#I’ve used up two samples so far and now I’ve got the whole bottle

[monstersandmaw]

Male moss leshen x gn reader - Part One (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

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Content: our two main characters meet first as children when the reader gets separated from their group on a school science trip to Wistman’s Woods, only to be rescued by a mysterious young forest spirit with a mask. Years later, the reader returns and wonders if it had been real after all... Wordcount: 6166

Surprise? I’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a while (Discord folks, this is the one I mentioned a while ago after I got back from Orkney, hence the mythology dump halfway through!) and I figured I’d share the first part.

Hope you like it :)

You hadn’t meant to get left behind.

One minute you’d been watching the slow, inexorable stretch of a snail across a small rivulet that led down into a mossy gully below, transfixed by its alabaster body and swirling brown shell, and the next, the group had moved on and you were completely alone in the tangle of twisting oaks and mossy boulders of Wistman’s Wood.

“Oh no.”

You’d spent the morning with your class on the nearby moorland, studying the heather and the soil and taking samples to bring back to the little science laboratory at school, but now the colour green pressed in on all sides — thick on the boulders and roots, and slick on the steam-bed — only to be cut through in a spiderweb of darker, twisting lines of trees like veins in the fog. That fog had rolled in earlier after you’d all eaten your packed lunches on the boulders along the path up to Wistman’s Wood amid flowering gorse and jewelled, silver spiderwebs, but that felt like a long time ago now, and the daylight was fading.

Moss dripped down in draping folds from gnarled and coiled branches, shrouding the oaks that were so old they’d watched the druids dance among them, and clumps of bracken waved their beckoning fingers at you as you stared around and realised you could hardly find the path any more.

Panic clutched your throat and locked your knees. Your little backpack, blue with yellow roses embroidered on the back, was devoid of food and your water bottle was almost empty. Spying an odd, looping branch in a tree that looked like it had been made to let the weary body of an eight year old rest there a moment, you scuttled over to it on shaking legs and sat. If you went back in the direction you’d come — over the moor — it would take hours and you weren’t sure you knew the whole circuit anyway. If you went on, you would most likely find the party soon. It couldn’t be that far.

After taking a puff of the wet, green air for courage, you hopped off the branch, squeezing the twisted form in grateful thanks for the calming pause, and then scrambled up the path. Your foot slipped on a scummy, green-slimed rock and you pitched forwards, landing on your palms with a grunt of surprise. Hands smarting, you pushed on, scrambling up the incline out of the rock-strewn gully and emerging at the top into fog so thick you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of you.

“Hello!” you yelled but the sound was muffled, dampened by the weight of the air, and your voice sounded pathetically small. “Hello?! Help! Where is everyone?”

Ferns and lichen hung down from the trees like the hair of a great tree monster, and branches snagged at your clothes like the reaching fingers of a fairytale monster as you crashed in panic up the incline. You had to get out. They were going to leave without you. You’d catch a cold if you stayed there all night, and the stories Miss. Tremayne had told you all on the bus that morning, about the faerie folk and the blood-eyed ‘Wisht Hounds’ and the old spirit of Crockern that walked the hills at night, all crowded in on you until you let out a strangled scream and crashed to your knees in a small, leaf-strewn clearing.

With snatched and rapid breaths, you tried to get a hold of yourself, but it was no good. Tears sprang hot to your eyes and rolled down your cheeks to spill onto the copper carpet of fallen leaves beneath your scuffed and dirty hands.

A twig snapped nearby and a magpie gave a hoarse, rattling laugh.

You looked up, sniffing back tears and scrubbed your hand across your face to leave a muddy trail across your cheeks. “Hello?” you sobbed. “Miss Tremayne? Mr. Lee?”

In the drifting fog, you started to recognise a pattern to the boulders around you and froze. You were kneeling at the heart of a small circle of standing stones, each one only a foot or so high. In the moss of the nearest one, you could just make out a spiral of bare rock intertwining with the vibrant green of the moss, and on the next one over, you found a different pattern. Beyond the clear bubble of air inside the circle, the fog pressed in, close and silent, and all you could hear was your own, tight breathing.

Someone would come for you soon. Someone had to notice you were missing soon. It didn’t matter that you were the weird kid who played with frogspawn and thought snails were neat and knew how to identify all three kinds of newt native to the UK. Someone would notice that you weren’t with the rest of the school trip.

All you had to do was wait where you were. The first rule of bushcraft when you realised you were lost was to stay put and not panic. One of those two you could do.

Wistman’s Wood really wasn’t that big, and they’d count everyone in on the bus, so you wouldn’t be left behind.

You sat down and waited.

And waited.

You were shivering by the time evening was properly closing in, and the fog was still drifting all around, and beyond the circle of stones, the noises of the night were starting up in a faltering chorus. A vixen’s screaming bark far away on the moor above made your blood run cold, and an owl’s soft, wavering call from the trees nearby drew an answering whimper from your own throat.

Leaves rustled everywhere as if the trees themselves were breathing, though there was no breeze that you could feel. The moss beneath your hands felt warm, as though the sun had been on it all day. You spread your dirty fingers through it and tried to draw some comfort from the warmth, imagining it was the thick coat of a friendly animal, but it was no good.

After what felt like hours, you curled up into a ball on your side and wept.

The ghost dogs would get you and tear you to pieces or the wild hunt would take you away.

Footsteps light as pattering rain over the autumn leaves jerked you awake some time later and you sat up to see a soft, golden glow on the edge of the ring of stones. Silhouetted in the fog just behind the lantern was a dark outline that looked a little too thin to be human and too short to be an adult.

Your scream of surprise and horror filled the clearing and was immediately answered with a gasp and a quiet, “No, it’s alright. I won’t hurt you,” from the other side of the stones. The voice was strange, like two rocks scraping together or the creak of a tree in a high wind, but it seemed kind.

“Who are you?” you hissed.

“I… I’m a friend. Why are you out here?” Whoever it was, the small glow wasn’t enough to illuminate them properly in the fog, and while they seemed young — perhaps about your own age — you didn’t recognise them as anyone from your class.

“I got lost,” you said, and fought off tears again. “Do you know the way back to the road?”

“Which road?”

“The… the one where we got off the bus,” you said. “There was a white building nearby. I think it was a pub.”

“Oh,” the unusual, reedy voice said. “You mean the human road to the south.”

Your heart iced over with wild fear. “You’re… You’re not human?”

“No. You can’t see in the dark, can you?”

“Of course not,” you said. “I’m not an owl. What are you? Are you part of the Wild Hunt? One of the ghosts? A druid?”

The creature laughed, and the sound was like a small brook rushing over loose stones. “No. You’re cold,” they added. “Here, I’ll come and warm you, but you mustn’t be afraid of me. I might look… scary… but I won’t hurt you.”

The light bobbed nearer, and you saw long, root-like fingers holding a lantern made of the lacy remains of old leaves and glowing from within. The arm that held it looked like it was made of dry, cracked wood, interspersed with patches of moss and little rocks that glittered in the light. When the creature knelt beside you, you sucked in a breath as the bare skull of a badger loomed down out of the mist. You knew it was a badger because you’d looked at them that week with Mr. Lee in science class.

Shaking, you waited to see the rest of the creature.

“I won’t hurt you,” they said again. “Please don’t be scared of me.”

“Ok,” you breathed, not sure what else to say. You hugged your knees in close and fought off the urge to close your eyes, pretending none of this was happening. “What about the Wisht Hounds and the ghosts?”

“They won’t hurt you,” they said cheerily, kneeling down beside you and setting the lantern on the mossy grass. “They guard the wood with me but they won’t hurt you if you don’t mean the place any harm.”

“Oh.” You looked up them and tried not to stare at the creature. “Ok.”

If they’d been human, you guessed they were around your own age and height — small, skinny and two legged — but their whole body seemed to have been made of wood and stone and bits of moss, and they had an animal pelt wrapped around their hips and the badger skull over their face. Glimpses of dark, almost-human skin showed here and there though, especially around the neck and collarbones and down the right side of their chest and arm, though the arm holding the lantern was like an old tree branch.

“Come on, you’re getting cold,” they said, and went down onto all fours. “Lie down.”

Not knowing what else to do, you obeyed, using your rucksack as a pillow, and they reached out and simply pulled the forest floor up around you like a blanket. The warm scent of moss enveloped you, and the comforting weight and heat of it took you by surprise.

“There,” they said as they tucked it up around your shoulder before curling up behind you and wrapping their arm around your middle. “Try to sleep. They’ll come looking for you soon, but if they don’t, I’ll show you to the edge of the woods in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Rest now.”

You closed your eyes and found yourself drifting off almost immediately, as comfortable and warm as if you were tucked up in your own bed.

The shrill of a distant whistle jolted you awake and you found a pressure on your shoulder joint, shaking you gently before it moved up to touch your neck with a shy, tender caress. “Wake up,” the creature hissed and you sat upright with a jolt. The blanket of moss and grass simply tumbled away from your body and became seamless forest floor again, as though it had never been disturbed.

You jerked around to stare at your new friend. It was still pitch dark, and your rapid exhales fogged in the air around you, making twisting, ghostly shapes in the small light of the creature’s lantern that had never gone out.

“Told you they’d come looking for you,” they said with a playful laugh.

You heard the baying of dogs in the distance and tensed.

“Not my hounds,” they said, drawing back and looking around twitchily. “I have to go. Please… Please don’t tell them about me? They probably won’t believe you anyway, but… please?”

You nodded. “I won’t tell anyone. And thank you for helping me.”

The creature tipped their head to one side in something you thought was a smile, though the bone mask that covered their face made it impossible to tell.

“I won’t forget you,” you croaked.

At that, the strange creature leaned forwards and hugged you. They were warm, and although the parts of their body that touched you were hard and unyielding, they slotted perfectly against you where you sat in the dead centre of the stone circle. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” they croaked. The cold press of those root-like fingertips against the warm skin of your neck made you gasp suddenly, but as a torch beam glanced off the trees, they rose and sprang away like a deer, vanishing into the shadows of the gnarled trees in the blink of an eye.

Someone shouted your name and you staggered to your feet. “Here!” you croaked. “I’m here!”

The yells went up, more dogs barked, and in a few minutes, you were being wrapped up in a blanket and seen to by the rescue team.

The half mile walk back to the road passed in a blur as everyone fussed over you and the events of the night rushed through your mind.

What kind of creature had that been?

You kept your promise though, and never told a soul about them, and when you woke the next morning, you found a small, leaf-shaped mark on your neck where their cold finger had touched you. No more than an inch long, it was the colour of a coppery autumn oak leaf, and whenever you brushed your fingertips over it, you shivered. The creature had marked you somehow, but you never minded. You loved the mark, and it made you feel special, cherished, and protected.

‘Badger’, as you came to think of them because of the skull, lived on in your imagination all throughout your childhood, and sometimes you even dreamed of them, running through the small woods with their ghostly black hounds barking and playing at their heels.

Whenever things got too much, you would pile up blankets atop you in bed for the weight and warmth, and curl up on your side, and remember the way they had pulled the forest floor up over you to keep you warm. Your fingertips would trace the small leaf mark on your neck, and you would feel grounded and calm again. Your parents had thought you would be traumatised by the event, frightened of foggy nights and of the woods, but you had never felt safer than you had on that lonely night with your strange friend among the twisted oak trees and the mossy standing stones.

Your career inevitably led you into wildlife conservation and the protection of rare landscapes just like Wistman’s Wood, though considerably further north.

“You should be going somewhere hot and dry for your holiday,” your colleague grinned at you as you both shrugged into your heavy coats and prepared to lock up the field office. The weather for the past week had been truly awful, even by Scottish standards, and your cramped, barely-insulated, converted shipping container office in the heart of the Highlands — affectionately nicknamed the ‘bothy’ after the more traditional shelters dotted across Scotland and Wales — had taken an absolute battering. Still, you’d somehow got a lot of work done together, and it was time to head back to the centre with the data.

With a laugh, you shook your head and adjusted the jacket around your shoulders with a shrug. “I know, but I’ve been wanting to go back to Devon for years and I’ve finally got enough leave stored up to make it worthwhile.”

Ben’s brown eyes twinkled and he shook his head at you. In his lilting, Orcadian burr, you best friend and fellow ranger chided you affectionately. “Ah well, I always said you were daft, didn’t I? At least it’s nareaboots stopped for the day anyway,” he added, cocking his head to listen to the last lashings of wind and rain on the roof and tiny perspex window. “Come on, I’ll buy you a pint at The Selkie tonight. What time are you off tomorrow?”

“I’m getting the 8.25 train to Inverness from Golspie, then the bus to the airport. My flight’s not til late afternoon.”

You chatted as you locked up your very basic field office and battled the last throes of the autumn storm to get your stuff into the Landrover. With the windscreen wipers on maximum, you jolted down the rough, winding forestry track through patches of forest and open heath, ignoring Ben’s comments on your driving — “Like you’d do any better!” you retorted. You both let out a grunt of relief though when you got back onto the tarmac that would eventually take you to the small, seaside town just before sunset. Not that there was a visible sun to see setting behind the perpetual, pewter-grey clouds.

That night, Ben got more than usually tipsy, and you found yourself listening to his beguiling accent as he talked of the folklore of his native Orkney Islands, prompted by the name of the pub in which you were drinking — The Selkie — and his insistence, again, that the mark on your neck was a mark of the fairfolk. What choice did you have but to refute it and claim it was a birthmark? Even if you could have told him without breaking your promise to Badger, he probably wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

Although…

His large brown eyes glittered as he talked of the selkie-folk and the finfolk, and his expression grew almost dreamy as he told you of their island summer-home of Hildaland, and the safety of the city beneath the waves that was their winter refuge, Finfolkaheem. Ben had always been a good storyteller, filling nights around the stove in the bothy with evocative tales of Scottish folklore, but he talked of it now as vividly as though he’d been to these fantasy places and seen them for himself. His accent got stronger and stronger, and his tone more yearning until finally he realised what time it was, blinked, and sighed. “Ah, but it’s late, and I’ve made myself homesick.”

Ben was tall and strong, though not in the lean, chiselled, way of runway models and gym-goers. Stocky, with a stout layer of fat around his gut, he looked made to weather whatever the elements had for him, and his wild, brown hair was already turning very silver though he couldn’t have been a day over thirty.

“You’ll have to call Mag when you get home tonight and make yourself feel better,” you said, standing up and patting him on the shoulder. “Though I doubt he’ll thank me for letting you get so tipsy.” You’d never met Magnus, but Ben talked of him often enough that you felt you knew him just a little.

His handsome, weathered face took on a softer look, and he smiled at the sound of his boyfriend’s name and pushed himself to his feet as well. “Aye, he always knows how to cheer me up, that’s for sure, despite being the grumpiest, most miserable-looking son of the sea I ever met.”

Ben's stories of the hidden folk of his island heritage haunted you all the journey south for some reason. Images of the tall, stern, shapeshifting and sorcerous finmen, and the soft and kindly selkies, mermaids, and mischievous trows who dwelled in the barrows and the secret places in the earth brought to mind your own childhood experience in the wood, and your thoughts turned yet again to the creature you had come to call Badger.

The following day, as the tyres of your hire car finally crunched over the gravelly tarmac outside the lime-washed, 18th century roadside inn that you recognised from all those years ago, you bit back a yawn. It was just after half four in the afternoon, and the light was still pretty good, so after checking in, dumping your bags in your room, and changing into walking clothes, you set off up the trail towards Wistman’s Woods to stretch your legs after a long day of travelling.

The air was clear, and no mist hung between the trees that evening, but otherwise, nothing felt like it had changed. The woods slept on like King Arthur’s knights, and you stepped reverently over the rocks, placing your palms carefully so as not to crush any snails or other creatures lurking in the spongy, verdant plant life. Tourists and social media had done irrevocable damage to ecologically sacred places like this the country over, but so far it seemed to have escaped the worst of it. Slowly and without haste, you wove your way into the heart of the small oak copse that clung to the line of the little river below.

Small birds flitted here and there among the branches, and the air smelled thick and wet with the coming autumn. You expected to find mushrooms popping their bonnets up from the grass as you passed, and out of the corner of your eye you almost imagined the tiny forms of fairies flying around, but when you turned more than once to look, it was only the dancing clouds of gnats that caught the last rays of sunlight.

Eventually, after rambling around for a while, you found the circle of stones and came to a halt outside it. In the interceding years between that night and the present, you had immersed yourself in folklore as much as you had wildlife conservation, and you stared at the stones in wonder. If the fairytales were to be believed, you had been lucky to have survived your encounter at all, let alone with the freely-given help of a supernatural creature.

The golden light of the dying day flashed along the dewy moss that adorned the spiral stone and your breath caught.

“Were you even real?” you breathed into the silence. “Would you even remember that one lost child all these years later?”

You sat down cross-legged — outside the stone circle this time — and rested your weight back on your hands behind you, face tilted to the twisting canopy of vibrant, shivering oak leaves overhead. It was chilly, but not unpleasantly so, and the moss beneath you was once again as warm as a summer’s afternoon.

After only a few minutes, all the birdsong fell quiet, the sun dipped below the hill, and twilight descended on the woods in the blink of an eye.

With the new chill came a tangible stillness to the woods, like everything was holding its breath until morning, and you felt the back of your neck prickle. Freezing in place for a moment, you strained your ears until finally you heard the faintest shifting in the ferns behind you.

Twitching around, you found a tall, gangling creature standing perhaps three or four yards away, no longer with a badger’s skull, but adorned with what looked like the ancient skull of a red deer stag.

Its large, forking antlers stretched up and away from the head in perfect symmetry, and across the darkly-stained bone of the old skull itself were engraved tiny runes. The creature looked emaciated and it hunched over at the shoulders in order to fit into the space between the twisted branches of the oaks on either side, and its lanky arms dangled down well past its hips. Its left arm seemed entirely made up of interconnected sections of wood and bark, adorned at the shoulder like a pauldron with moss and at the elbow with small rocks like ball bearings, and the limb ended in three long, pale, root-like talons like a thumb and two fingers.

The right arm though had a much more human-like quality to it, with a human hand covered in that dark, tannin-stained skin, and the bark coverings seemed more like armour than anything else. Their collarbones seemed to show human skin beneath the patches of bark and wood and moss on their torso, though the colour and texture was like that of skin from ancient bog bodies — dark and leathery looking — and the muscles of their neck were sinuous and withered until it vanished behind the deer mask.

From their shoulders hung a great, woven cloak with moss and lichen and spiderwebs blending seamlessly into soft, dark green wool, and it was held in place by carved and engraved, triangular brooches that seemed to have been made from deer scapulae. Their long, mossy, tree-like legs ended in roots instead of toes. Around their narrow hips, they wore an animal skin loincloth, and at their side hung a carved wooden cup or bowl on a twisted vine cord.

You stared a long time before swallowing thickly. “Is it you?” you whispered at last. “Are you the one who saved me all those years ago?”

Slowly, the creature inclined their head. “You… remembered me?” Their voice was much deeper now, but just as rough and scraping, and they sounded astonished.

“How could I forget you?” you laughed, all apprehension draining away as you scrabbled to your feet.

In a sudden rush of wild elation, you ran towards them and without hesitation flung your arms around that skinny, bony waist and squeezed.

A low, earthy laugh rumbled from the creature and they enveloped you in those strange arms, hoisting you right up off the ground and hugging you tightly to their chest. “I felt sure you’d forget about me,” they mumbled.

“I made you a promise,” you said, wheezing as their grip got somehow even tighter. “Oof, you got bigger!”

The strange creature laughed a little harder and set you down carefully. “So did you,” they said. “Why did you come back now?”

Their voice had an otherworldly note to it, like a high harmonic in a cathedral, and it made your whole body reverberate with the sound of it.

Clearing your throat, you said, “I had some holiday time to use up and… it’s been too long. My friend from work, Ben, he’s been talking a lot lately about selkies and the fae-folk from where he lives, and it made me think of you. I had to see if you really were… real.” You looked up into their face and tilted your head a little. “You outgrew the badger skull, I see.”

A snort of laughter sounded from behind the deer skull, which made you more certain than ever that it was a mask and not a part of them, and they nodded. “A long time ago. This one belonged to my mother.”

“Your mother was a deer?”

Again, the creature laughed delightedly and it sounded like a small rockfall tumbling down a cliff side. “No, my mother was a spirit of these lands. A creature with the face and heart of a beautiful woman, and a hollow, rotting back and the tail of an ox from behind.”

You tried not to grimace at the strange imagery.

“She loved my father, who was a mortal man and who loved her all his life. They were mated, and when he died, she…” they shook their head. “She stopped wanting to live and… returned to the forest, leaving only her memory and her mask behind for me. It had been her father’s before it was hers.” They looked to one side and brought their root-like left hand up to touch the twisting trunk of a nearby oak. “She is still here, in a way. In the way that all who have gone before are remembered here by the forest.” They paused and added ruefully, “As I shall be, one day, I suppose.”

They sighed, a sound like the wind through the leaves above, and looked down at you.

“What… are you then?” you asked.

For a moment, the creature’s chest rose and fell without words. Eventually, they said in their harsh, broken-boulder voice, “I am… a guardian, I suppose. My kind are known by many names across the world: leshy, green men, dryads and hamadryads, lares, Sylvanus, woodwose…” they shrugged. “But I am only a half-breed,” they added with a wry chuckle.

Completely fascinated, you asked, “Do you have a name?”

That again gave the creature pause. “Yes,” they said after a while. “But not as you would understand it.”

You frowned.

“I am named the way a river gully is named, or a wild animal, or one of the high tors is named. Not… Not like a human with a single word.”

“You’re right… I don’t understand,” you breathed, still frowning.

“Here, let me show you,” they said, and they reached out that dendroidal left hand towards your temple. You shrank away instinctively but they shook their head. “I did not hurt you before and I will not hurt you now.”

“Sorry.”

With a slow incline of their head, they tried again. This time when their fingertips touched your temple, you did not flinch, and an image filled your mind. After only a second, it became apparent that it was not an image but an experience.

It centred on the stones of the circle behind you, illuminated as they had been only a few minutes earlier at sunset. Pure, radiant, golden light streamed down and, like stained glass, lit up the moss and lichen that rose a few inches from the stone’s surface. Midges danced in the air above the stone and a drop of dew beaded at the tip of one of the fronds, sparkling for just a second before it rolled down and soaked into the moss. You tasted fresh-fallen rain on your tongue and smelled the earthy, green scent of moss, and the last rays of the day warmed your skin. This was who this creature was. He, you realised. The creature was male.

He let go of you and you gasped, swaying on the spot as the colour and warmth of the vision receded into the grey-blue of dusk.

You blinked. “All that in one name?” you croaked, and he laughed. “And here I’ve been calling you Badger all these years.”

“Badger,” he repeated. “For the mask?”

“Mmm.”

“I like it,” he said. “They’re cheeky and resourceful creatures. It’s quite the compliment.”

You twitched your eyebrows upwards. “Well, at least it’s not been an insult. One more question?”

“Doesn’t have to be your last,” he said, clearly amused. “Ask away.”

“Are you responsible for this mark?”

You turned and exposed your neck to him, and he hummed softly. It sounded like a tree stretching.

Again he reached for you, towering from his seven foot height, but to your surprise, he eased himself down onto one knee as he traced the soft, warm fingertip of his human hand over the mark. “Yes,” he said in a tiny voice. “I didn’t mean to mark you, but I’m glad I did.”

“What do you mean?”

He looked down sharply, almost catching you with one of the prongs of his antlers, and a little, bitter laugh escaped him. “I wanted to keep you safe, but I was only a child too when we met. I didn’t know how to control the magic in me — the magic of these woods — and I didn't know what I was doing. That symbol will mark you out to all the supernatural as someone… loved.”

You smiled and pitched forwards to hug him again. “Thank you. My whole life, whenever I’ve felt lonely or afraid, I’ve touched it and it’s like…” you sighed, unsure how to describe it. Brushing your fingers over it again, you went on, “It feels like it did when you covered me with moss and kept me warm.”

He shivered. “With you so close, I can feel when you touch it,” he said.

His arms encircled you slowly and he drew you close. He smelled like autumn — like misty sunrises with dewy grass and glittering spider webs — and you nuzzled your cheek against the side of his head. The mask moved a little by accident and he tensed.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“Do not be,” he said, leaning back a little way without fully letting go of you. He did readjust the mask though. “How long are you here for?”

“Two weeks,” you said as you stepped back to look at him properly. “I planned to go walking on the moors, as well as visiting here again to see if you really were real.”

Before he could answer, a shadow moved behind him and your eyes went wide at the sight of a colossal dog with blood red eyes. You took an uncertain half-step back and Badger turned to look over his shoulder.

The animal — spirit? — stepped carefully over the mossy stones and made its way down to sit silently beside the two of you, regarding you curiously.

“This is… Whisper,” he said, reaching his hand out as the massive dog butted its head up into his palm. “She is the leader of my pack of Wisht Hounds. She’s curious about you.”

“Hi. She’s… beautiful,” you said, realising it was true. The way the shadows rippled through her long, smoky black coat was mesmerising. She looked like a large, pitch-black German Shepherd, though she was slightly rangier and longer legged, and her swishing tail seemed to end in a wisp of smoke. She was also the size of a small pony.

Whisper seemed to like being called beautiful because she rose and padded close, sniffing at your hand and then barging her cold nose into it for some strokes. Her red eyes burned like embers, but she didn’t seem in the least bit frightening now. Her fur was softer than anything you’d ever touched, and the animal made small, happy little noises in her throat as her ears and chin were showered with attention.

“I bet you can be really scary when you need to be,” you said carefully, “But you’re also incredibly sweet…”

Badger laughed and stood up, creaking and cracking like an old tree in a high wind.

“That sounded… painful?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, not really. My body is a little… dramatic, that’s all,” he said, curling his left hand up for emphasis. As the talons of his hand closed, they made a soft creaking noise.

You shivered as a breeze cold snuck in down the back of your jacket and you straightened up, much to Whisper’s disgruntlement. The spectral hound turned away, nosed a farewell into Badger’s hand too, and then trotted off, melting into the gathering night like a fading memory.

“She’s going to patrol the wood,” he said. “I’m glad you met her. I remember that you were afraid of the idea of them first time we met.”

“Well, I didn’t have anything other than the ghost stories our teacher told us on the bus back then,” you snorted. Your stomach rumbled audibly and you pulled a face. “I’m exhausted. I came down from Scotland today, and I haven’t eaten since this morning. I should get going, but can I come back tomorrow?”

He nodded. “I would love that. The woods have seen more people than usual of late,” he sighed. “People trampling it and breaking off moss and branches and taking acorns away, but it gets quiet in the afternoons. I can remain hidden if necessary though.”

You nodded and sighed as you looked up into the empty eye sockets of the deer’s skull mask. “I’m so glad I met you again,” you said. “After all this time.”

“So am I,” he said with a slight bow. “I will walk you to the edge of the woods, if I may?”

“Sure, thank you.”

The only sounds when he moved were the gentle breathing of the woods themselves and the slight creak of bark and the whisper of wind through the leaves. You felt loud and clumsy and out of place in comparison.

At the edge of the trees, Badger stopped and looked out at the moorland beyond. Bracken whispered in the breezes that didn’t really seem to touch the small oak copse behind you, and the air seemed colder and fresher and somehow thinner out there.

You turned and looked up at him. “See you tomorrow,” you said, and touched the oak leaf on your neck.

He shuddered, and then whickered a low laugh. “Tomorrow.”

He watched you go, and as you rounded a turn in the path, you glanced back to find him still standing there, just barely visible between the gnarled trees. He almost looked like one of them, with his bark-and-moss body and his antlers, but you could see him distinctly enough. Around the edge of the copse, further up the rolling, stony hillside, three black shapes careered over the fieldstones and crumbling remains of a wall: Wisht Hounds.

Raising your arm in a final wave, you laughed when he did the same and then turned to melt into the shadows of his oak wood once again.

___

Hope you enjoyed badger! Any guesses about Ben and Magnus? Want to see part two? Lemme know as always with reblogs to show your interest.

If you do happen to have a couple of bucks spare, you could always drop a tip on my Ko-fi, but reblogs are just as welcome and just as helpful! As always, I look forward to your reactions to this one. Take care of yourselves.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#leshen #leshy #forest spirit #male forest spirit #forest guardian #male monster x reader #gender neutral reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #childhood friends to lovers #much? #haha

[love-change-machines]

Part 8 of Love, Change, and Machines

Burn Out (August 15, 2055)

Gustave’s POV

I let the two Russians sleep in the infirmary for the night; I would kick most out as there is no need for them to be there, but nothing like this has ever happened before now. My teammates have called me a workaholic as if it’s a bad thing, but right now I feel like I’m going to pull my hair out. I’ve been working for 2 months straight trying to find out what went wrong with the neural port but so far there’s nothing. Well except for the large amount of data interaction between the headset and an unknown, but secure, source. I know it was from Xenith but I have no evidence as all the data was encrypted. It was their god damn headsets and yet they refused to help! I feel like a crazy person! Not to mention Maxim’s mystery stroke; all of the blood samples I took say everything is working normally, he should be healthy as a bull, yet here we are. C’est impossible. I need a good drink and some rest; everything else can come tomorrow.

Third Person POV

Maxim and Alexsandr were still glued to each other; Maxim woke first and realized they were still in the infirmary,

“Sasha, Sasha! Wake up!” Maxim whispered this while slightly shaking Alex,

“Another nightmare” Alexsandr managed to mumble out from his deep slumber,

“No, we’re still in the infirmary Doc probably wants us out” Maxim answered, but he was slightly flustered that Alexsandr was first concerned with his health,

“I’m sure its fin-” Alexsandr couldn’t finish his sentence as they heard a crashing sound and Alexsandr shot up and slightly moved Maxim behind him,

“What was that” Maxim asked with his face slightly reddened by Alexsandr’s instinct to protect him,

“I think it came from the mess hall”  Alexsandr answered while Maxim slowly got up to get dressed, but this time he didn’t ask Alexsandr to look away and the older russian didn’t fear to look while Maxim changed.

“Just stay behind me” Alexsandr asked while they made their way out of the infirmary,

“Please we’d be safer with me leading,” Maxim teased. 

They made their way to the mess hall, tension rising as they approached and the banging got louder,

“Hey you two lovebirds are finally up, come have a drink with me!” Doc slurred out extending his arms in welcoming,

“Holy shit have you ever seen Doc this drunk” Alexsandr chuckled at Maxim,

“Unbelievable” Maxim had never seen Doc this drunk and already knew something was up, but Tachanka was more interested in drinking with Gustave,

“You French don’t know how to drink” Alexsandr teased while reaching for a bottle of vodka. They both made their way to Gustave’s table and sat with him and Tachanka poured himself a drink; offering Maxim a glass,

“As much as I enjoy some good vodka I can’t” Maxim said pushing the empty cup away,

“Oh yeah sorry about that, more for me!” Alexsandr laughed,

“Oh yeah! Maxim’s brain is melting. No more work talk!” Doc replied slightly annoyed while saying the last sentence. Maxim was slightly concerned by this sentence but assumed it was the alcohol talking.

“When are you two going to get together?!” Doc asked. This was bizarre for Doc to be acting this way, Kapkan and Tachanka had never seen Doc behave this way. Before replying they both looked at each other, and Maxim gave a small nod to Alexasndr,

“Too late Doc, Maxim’s already mine” Alexsandr announced with a glowing smile while Maxim knew he was blushing furiously

“No way! I bet it's from me, I'm a matchmaker!” Doc was way too proud of this,

“I guess you did, nice work” Alexsandr replied, patting Doc on the back; Maxim just glared at them. Tonight was going to be great dealing with a drunk Tachanka,

“Y’know this whole health thing is so annoying, I’m supposed to know everything about health but your little weird brain just decided to do this” Doc was slurring his speech while pointing to Maxim’s head and Maxim could barely understand it, Alexsandr looked at Kapkan with a confused face and he mouthed, “I’ll explain later”

“Doc, how much have you had to drink?” Kapkan asked,

“Only like, i don't know, 3-4. .. 5 glasses of wine” Doc slurred out,

“Okay first we are going to set this down” Kapkan explained while he pried the glass of wine out of Doc’s hands

“Aw c’mon” Doc complained

“Maxim you’re no fun” Tachanka added only getting a glare from Kapkan.

“Why don’t we go to sleep?” Kapkan knew he was basically mothering Doc, but right now he didn’t care. He’d never seen Doc drink like this, sure a beer or glass or wine here and there, but never like this; this was full on shitfaced drinking. As they got up Doc had to lean on his shoulder to stand. Tachanka kept claiming he wasn’t drunk, but Kapkan knew he would be at least tipsy by the time they got to their room.

Kapkan’s POV

“I can’t believe he was that drunk” I told Tachanka on our way to our room,

“He was so drunk I didn't even know what he was saying. Classic French, can’t handle liquor”

Tachanka laughed,

“Yeah good thing I got him to sleep or you two would be seeing who could drink more” I replied,

“Obviously me,” Tachanka laughed before we made it to our room. I signaled for Tachanka to be quiet,

“No one is awake how would they-” I quickly covered the buffoons mouth, and then Tachanka realized what he said,

“You’re drunk” I told him, “I’m tipsy there’s a difference, trust me” Tachanka laughed. He wasn’t wrong. Once he and Glaz had a drinking competition, Tachanka won, but they were so drunk I had to put both of them to sleep and Tachanka tried to hit on me, all in Russian. At the time I assumed it was just the alcohol, but I blushed thinking about how clueless I was then,

“Can we sleep in your bed, you have that fancy blanket” Tachanka asked. Technically it wasn’t a blanket, it was a bear pelt, but I’m not in the mood to wake up my roommates with that discussion,

“Yes if it will keep you quiet” I hissed trying to quiet the excitement in my voice, he instinctively wanted to sleep with me,

“I think the bigger problem is keeping you quiet” Tachanka gave me a suggestive look that I could barely see in the darkness,

“Alex our first time is not going to be while you’re drunk and our teammates, our friends, are in the same room” I sighed at the Russian,

“Fine then i guess you’re just going to have to keep yourself off me all night” Alexsandr laughed while he sat on the bed making it creak,

“Just go to sleep old man” I teased,

“Fine, come here” Alexander conceded, extending his hand to me, which I took, and pulled me into the bed. I grabbed and pulled the pelt over us, and we laid there in the silence for some time,

“You smell like vodka” I teased

“That's how you know it's me, my signature scent” Alexsandr chuckled,

“You’re not the only person that drinks” I retorted,

“Well I just smell better than them”

“You just smell old” I teased, but I did know Tachanka by his scent. It was indescribable but I loved it, it made me feel safe.

Tachanka laughed at this comment and we returned to laying there, looking each other in the eyes. His eyes were bright even in the darkness, he was like a burning sun wherever he went; I love that about him. I had to kiss him at that moment, it was just a peck, but it just helped remind me he’s mine.

“Told you you’d have a hard time keeping to yourself princess” Alexsandr mumbled while laughing. I couldn’t care to respond and before long I could hear him slightly snoring and that was all I needed to finally fall asleep.

(August 16, 2055)

“I was right! I called this months ago!” Jäger barged into our room

“Marius stop” Bandit quickly followed behind, trying to stop his companion

“What the-” was all I could mumble out before Marius filled my field of view,

“When were you going to tell us you two are together” Marius beckoned,

“What time is it?” I asked, still trying to figure out what was going on

“Stop deflecting and just answer my question” Marius tried to slap my shoulder but stopped; then I remembered the position I was in. I looked to my side and saw Alexsandr, very close up, I was basically crawling into him. So close Marious couldn’t even slap my shoulder,

“We’ve been together since two days ago get in the loop” Alexsandr tried to boom, bu sleep tugged the power down, “Now shut up I have a headache”

“Are you hungover? Oh my god. Did you two?” Marius had a mischievous look in his eyes and excitement tugged at his lips; Dominic started to look interested and stopped trying to stop Jager as much,

“Oh my god! No! I didn’t drink, I can’t drink!” I exclaimed

“You can’t drink!” Dominic and Marius were both shocked,

“Are you sure you won't die, isn’t 50% of Russian blood pure alcohol” Dominic laughed making Marius chuckle,

“It's actually 60% now leave” Alexsandr mumbled putting his hands on his eyes,

“Fine we’ll leave you lovebirds to yourselves, just make sure you see Doc later” Dominic said while laughing, Marius looked slightly annoyed, but he followed his friend out of the room. 

“I knew he wouldn’t let it go” I chuckled at Alexsandr while I rubbed circles on his forearm,

“Don’t make me laugh, it hurts” Alexsandr responded, “can we just lay in bed forever”

“Marius said Doc wants to see us, probably to apologize” I responded, but I wanted to stay in bed just as much as Alexsandr,

“He should,” Alexsandr mumbled. I laughed at the old man. He finally opened his eyes, slightly straining them as he did so. He looked at me and kissed me, “good morning princess”

“So now you’re okay with waking up” I said this just loud enough to make Alexsandr wince slightly,

“Asshole” He laughed and I felt like I was in heaven, how could this bundle of drunk joy be mine? I think he noticed my admiration and he moved his hand to cup my cheek and I closed my eyes, feeling his large callused fingers feel my face. My hands were callused as well but Sasha’s were different, more tender. He was everything I wasn’t, his smile beamed, his laugh boomed, he was tender and emotional. I was so lost in my thoughts I barely noticed that his hand had moved to my chin and pulled me into a kiss, when he pulled away I could only say one thing,

“I love you”

“me too”

“Sasha”

“yeah”

“Promise to never leave”

At hearing this Alexsandr moved my head so his eyes met mine, “I’d have to be crazy to leave someone like you, я люблю тебя навсегда максим (I love you forever, Maxim)”

“I’d probably hunt you down if you did” I teased and Alex’s laugh filled the silence,

“You wish you could hunt me down princess”

“You’re too old and slow to outrun me” Maxim teased, I was going to use this to finally get us out of bed to see Doc. I began to try and get up but Alex just held me tighter, this was a game and I knew Alexsandr would win,

“Sasha-” was all I could manage as he squeezed me,

“But I don’t want to get up” he was not afraid to whine

“Doc wants to see us, what if it's important?” I remembered everything that had been going on and worry flashed in my eyes for a second. But of course Alexsandr noticed this, he noticed every small detail about me, he slightly lightened his grip

“Hey, if it's important to you I’ll get up” Alex suddenly became serious and he started to get up. As soon he was up I felt the cold air against me, Damn he really is a space heater

“I know how to play you” I teased looking at Alex,

“Whatever you want to say princess” After this I got in the shower. I would shower with Alex, and I would be comfortable doing it, I just don’t know if I could stop myself from doing anything.

After we had both taken our showers we began to make our way to Doc’s office,

“It feels so nice to finally be clean, I haven’t showered in two days I think” I told Alexsandr

“You basically slept for both of them. And I for one am glad you showered because you were starting to smell” Alexsandr teased

“Oh please-” 

“At least now I don’t have to carry your heavy ass” 

“I’m not that heavy!” I yelled and all Alexsandr gave me was a glare. We walked the rest of the way there in silence, but I was okay with this as long as I was with Alexsandr.

“Doc? You asked for us?” Alexsandr beckoned into the infirmary, “I'm with Kapkan” they heard the shuffling of someone,

“I'll be there in a second, come on in!” Doc yelled. We both made our way and sat in the seats Doc motioned us to sit in some chairs, “ah never mind Maxim please sit in the bed and Alexsandr you can sit here” This made me slightly worried,

“First off I’d like to apologize for my behavior last night-” I cut him off

“Gustave, you’re fine we all have our moments” 

“Thank you, and thank you for getting me to sleep. Anyways I have good news and bad news” I was worried by what he said,

“Can we get the bad news first?” I asked looking at Alexsandr and he gave me a reassuring look,

“Well depending on your viewpoint it could be considered good news, but Alexsandr you’ve been put on indefinite medical leave-”

“But I’m not sick!” Alxsandr defended,

“I understand but this is just what I’ve been told. And for the good news, we have a way to prevent Kapkan’s brain from melting”

“What? How? I’m so confused” I said this with the most confusion ever, “How do we do this?”

“Well we just need to reestablish a connection to a neural headset” Doc hesitated to say this,

“Excuse me?! If you think you’re going to put one of those headsets on Maxim you are insane! You know what happened the last time! It nearly killed him!” Alexsandr was furious

“Alex, let Doc explain himself” I tried to reason with him,

“No! I’m not going to risk the lif-”

“Sasha!” My hands were on his face now, “I’m not getting any better as is”

“But-”

“Please, let Gustave speak” I was nearly pleading now

“Okay,” Alex finally conceded

“Well that's the thing, I’m not sure why this would work; this is what I’ve been told. But I have no other options” Doc was worried,

“What the fuck!” Alexsandr was standing now, “I’m not letting you play with your life like this Maxim”

I pulled on Sasha’s arm and was staring him in the eyes, “I need this to work, what other options do we have” Alex’s face was filled with worry,

“Maxim I promised I would never leave you” I’ve never seen Alexsandr like this,

“You’re not leaving me and you’re not changing my mind” I’ve never begged like this but I didn’t care, “Please if you want to support me; you’ll support this”

“I- i can’t lose you” I’ve never seen Alexsandr like this; this emotional, his eyes were wild and tears were tugging at the edges of his eyes,

“You won’t. I promise.” “Doc I’m going through with this, how long will it take to prepare?”

“It shouldn’t take long, but I will give you as long as you need to prepare” Doc explained

“Can I hold him, or can I atleast stay here with Maxim” Alexsandr asked, nearly pleading

“Do you know CPR, or what to do in case of a seizure” Doc asked

“Yeah, I was trained in both”

“Then yes if it makes the process easier” Doc answered, “Now I’ll give you two some time while I prepare the headset.” He walked away and immediately Alexsandr scooped me up and got into the bed with me, his breath shaking slightly,

“Sasha I’m going to be okay” my voice was slightly muffled my Alexsandr’s shirt,

“You don’t know that”

“I don’t but you’ll be here. Alex sometimes a hunter has to face the unknown” Even I was surprised at how calm I was, but in reality I was just as worried as Alexsandr, and I bet he could tell.

“Okay” He mumbled. I needed something else to think of, so I thought of me and Alex’s future

“After this, since we’re both off, we should visit your kids”

“What?”

“Y’know since we’ll always be together” “That would be nice” Alex smiled slightly and starting tracing invisible lines on my back,

“When did you know you loved me?” I asked,

“I don’t know, I guess it just happened”

“I still remember the moment when I realized I felt something. It was Christmas 2 years ago, when you and Fuze got drunk and started caroling. Shuhrat was a much better singer but I just couldn’t take my eyes off you, you had this goofy drunk smile on your face and whenever you looked at me it seemed even brighter. All I could think about was you, like the rest of the world didn’t matter and you were singing exclusively for me” I was chuckling a little at the end, that was a good Christmas,

“If I’d known you liked my caroling I would have done some last year” Alexsandr laughed, instantly helping me relax,

“No I think that's fine” I was only partly sarcastic,

“You’ll just have to wait until December to hear me carol” Alexsandr was fully laughing now. I kissed him, shutting him up instantly, I wanted this moment to last forever. It was passionate but careful until we unfortunately had to come up for air.

“We should probably tell Doc we’re ready” I reminded Alex

“Okay” Alex conceded

“Doc, we’re ready,” I announced. Doc walked in with the headset and I gulped, I pushed off Alex slightly to make room for Doc to apply the headset. He put it on my head and I was nervous and I gripped Alex’s hand,

“Sasha-”

“Everything will be okay” and he gave me a reassuring smile. I could feel his arm under my back wrapped around to my side,

“Initiating connection” Doc announced. I was staring into Sasha’s eyes as the world slowly went to black, Sasha, Sasha . . S- sa. . .

I woke up in a white room, “Rehoboam” I whispered under my breath.

“Yes?”

I was startled by the quick response “What the- ” This time I’m the predator. I won’t be this thing’s prey “I have some questions for you”

“Then I will endeavor to have some answers”

“What is this?”

“This is the bridge between your mind and mine”

“Why are you doing this? Why me?”

“Your mind is peculiar, Maxim, although all of the minds in Rainbow are useful to me. You are all some of the many primeovers this strategy relies on”

“What does that mean?”

“A primeover is an event, place, or person that will drastically affect the future. Maxim you and your associate, Alexsandr Senaviev are more important than you realize”

As soon as the machine mentioned Alexsandr I remembered our talk before I entered this place, but once I did a black flare appeared in the distance, “What is that?”

“A divergence of 1.18 Arc Degrees, please avoid it”

I didn’t give a damn what this machine wanted me to do, I am going to see what that is. The walk to it was surprisingly long. How big is this place? Once I arrived I saw it was an entrance, so naturally I entered watching where I stepped. I was entering enemy territory,

“Maxim, entering this space could harm yo-” The machine was cut off as soon as I entered and I was greeted by the same glowing black sphere, although now it was larger. More interestingly there was a console below it, and when I approached there was one thing displayed on its screen. View variants of strategy 47.136.X. I tapped on it and saw thousands of different scenes playing out. So many dead people. My jaw slowly dropped but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next. Tachanka holding me, except, we’re both dead still in our gear

“T- tell me about his variant” I mumbled and the machine complied,

“Variant U.91.354-D, Subject DR-32606, Maxim Basuda, and subject DR-45712, Alexsandr Senaviev, are no longer viable”

“What the fuck happened?!”

“Diverging event in Albuquerque, New Mexico on January 13, 2056. Subject DR-32606 contracts a biological pathogen, in an unguided attempt to save his life DR-45712 contracts it as well. Before they turn they both terminate their continued existence”

“2056? Is this me and Tachanka’s future? Do I die in less than a year?”

“No, I see many futures. There are still variables, however, some are more desirable than others”

I was trying to stand my ground, not become prey again, but I wasn’t expecting this,

“What is the most desirable variant?” I asked, if I was going to be here, I was going to get answers

“Before you entered, variant T.607.34-Q was selected. Although your presence has changed the variables. Calculating . . . Variant P.519.01-C” After it said this a list of interventions was shown,

Consolidation of power in Xenith Crop.- 64.1%

Elimination of the White Group (“White Masks”) - April 13, 2061

Initiation of Outlier Program - 100%

Reinstatement of subjects DR-32606 and DR-45712 in Team Rainbow - November 17, 2055

Removal of subject UI-21354, Padamatti, Agastya - August 14, 2055

“What does this shit mean? Who are these people and what is an outlier?” I asked although I didn’t know if I wanted to know the answer,

“An Outlier is a subject who doesn’t follow my predictions. They are unpredictable or undesirable. The Outlier Program solves this by removing these people from the equation; even better is their genes are removed from the gene pool, removing the trait” Rehoboam answered

“W- what do you do with them?” I can’t believe I was hearing this

“They are put into cryosleep until the world fits them”

“Those are people you can’t just throw them away! That’s eugenics!” I yelled,

“Would you rather they die? This fate is a blessing compared to many.”

“But-” The machine cut me off

“Maxim, you are a man who when pushed reacts with extreme violence. A killer. Of all people you should understand predation”

The machine was only partly right,

“I suggest you leave this place before they remove your headset, after all I don't think you want to stay here, with me, forever.”

I completely forgot about them, and I didn’t want to be here forever. I started running back to where I came from and as soon as I exited the flare subsided and I was left alone in the white room.

Migraine, searing white pain.

“Maxim! Can you hear us?!”

“Doc what's happening?”

“I don’t know he should be awake!”

I gasped for breath and I nearly slammed my head into Doc’s concerned face, I looked around and saw Doc and Alexsandr both looking at each other then me, with worry and concern filling their faces

“Maxim! Can you hear me” Alexsandr yelled, I know he was only concerned for my health but right now I wanted to kill him for being that loud

“Holy shit” I covered my eyes “Turn the lights off and shut up” Doc turned off some of the brighter lights and I turned to bury my face into Tachanka. He reacted by gripping me tight,

“Maxim, can you hear me?” Doc asked in almost a whisper, but it felt like a knife

“Yes please stop talking or my brain might still melt” I replied, muffled by Alexsandr’s chest

Alex whispered for a moment alone with Maxim and he reluctantly agreed and we both just laid there for some time.

“What did you see?” Alex asked. My head finally hurt less. I partially didn’t want to answer, I didn’t want to scare him with what I saw because I know how he is.

“I was back in the white room and Rehoboam spoke to me. When I thought about you a black flare door opened and Rehoboam called it a divergence. I went in and saw Rehoboam’s plans” I paused,

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, picking up on my pause

“Sasha-” I paused again, “Are you sure?”

“Whatever you have to go through, I will go through with you” Why did he always know exactly what to say?

“I saw a variant of the future where we both die in battle. We killed ourselves to not become one of those creatures in New Mexico”

“W- what?” “Is that going to happen?” Alex tensed up

“Rehoboam said its an undesirable variant but that there are some variables”

“Maxim, don't think for a second that that machine can see the future, you hear me? I’m not going to let you become one of those things.” Alexsandr was very serious now and his voice thick with his accent, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes” I pulled up and kissed him and he cupped my cheek

“So when do you want to visit your kids?” I asked changing the topic,

“As soon as Doc releases you” Alex said with a smile.

#rainbow six siege #rehoboam #r6s #r6s kapkan #r6s tachanka #long reads #lgbtq #fanfic #alexsandr senaviev #maxim basuda #tachanka

[foxymoxynoona]

A Beautiful Beyond

NOTE: This is a short story sequel to A Sea of Indigo, which you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25881670/chapters/62890984

Summary: Years have passed since Jungkook came to Marigold, years since you kissed beneath the stars and confessed your love and bound yourself together. But now a new challenger has entered the ring, one which threatens to unbalance everything: your first baby! Good luck, kids.

Pitbull Hybrid Jeon Jungkook x Human Reader(Y/N) Words: 14,339

CW: not much, childbirth, domestic fluff, pregnancy, new parents, reference to prior miscarriage

Read on ao3 or below cut: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33741412

Jungkook sat in a scratchy chair in the far corner of the ballroom, next to a wide round table with his things on it. Correction, your things. Your conference bag, packed to the brim with pamphlets, samples of lotions and special shampoos and bandages and protein snacks, branded pens and water bottles and lollipops. Your messenger bag which he had carried all day, overstuffed with your own journals, loose notes, two books, phone charger, ginger candies, comfier flat shoes, socks, and enough snacks to constitute two meals, with a water bottle dangling from the strap by a carabiner. A stack of magazines and trade journals and news articles you’d collected from booths introducing health treatments, medical technologies, or new mental health services formed a stack beside the bags.  

Jungkook stretched in his chair and scratched his scalp and blinked around the room as if he’d just woken from a nap. He hadn’t, he would never fall asleep while you were wandering a crowded place like this and might need his help at any moment. But it was boring. So fucking boring. Though not the first conference he had traveled with you for, this particular time, his patience for a three days full of lectures and networking and chatty lunches was thin.

He watched you lean against a tall table, talking with two other women, both nurses who worked at other hybrid sanctuaries in Asia. So many people you knew had descended on Tokyo for this international conference. You had begged and pleaded to go after Jungkook said he didn’t think it was a good idea. You had sighed and fluttered your eyelashes and draped yourself around him and knit your fingers together and then kissed along his jaw and sucked on his ears. He flushed now, letting out an impatient huff at how impossible it was to say no to you when you did that. 

But he had his reasons! You turned and laughed at something one of the nurses said, your hand resting on top of the large round swell of your belly. He noticed the way you alternated leaning against the table and swaying, meaning either your hips or your feet were hurting. Your lower back must be too from standing all day; he saw your back arch outwards for a moment as you tried to stretch. You had cried just the other day because you couldn’t actually stretch your back the way you wanted, but if he pressed his knuckles along your spine it felt good. You needed that right now, he sensed it. He was always trying to sense the things you needed, watching you closely, trying to take care of you because he’d done this to you after all. He thought you still hadn’t been quite sure about a baby but you were doing this for him. 

And also for a nurse you were remarkably bad at taking care of yourself.

He decided without seeing them that you ankles were swollen enough and he needed to drag you out of there, so he gathered all your things and marched over, only to shy away from the pairs of eyes that all immediately shifted to him.

“Y/N, let’s go rest,” he mumbled at your shoulder.

“Just a few more minutes.”

“You said that two hours ago…”

“I know,” you said, turning and pressing your hand to his chest. “I’m sorry, I know you’re bored. Just a few more minutes, I swear.”

He sighed. But you smiled at him. And from here your ankles didn’t look too bad yet.

“Drink more water,” he said, handing you the water bottle you’d set on the table. He hauled your things back to the round table and dumped them down but didn’t sit this time. Instead he remained standing, so you could have the reminder that you had said you would go soon. 

He crossed his arms.

He paced. 

He leaned against the back of a chair when a few minutes bled into more. Two more people had joined you. And now he was getting hungry too, which he knew meant you were probably hungry too and too busy talking work stuff to realize it. Time to use his own powers of persuasion.

Once again he grabbed your bags up and approached, this time pressing up close against you back. You mindlessly lifted your fingers over your shoulder to touch his neck, a soft gesture that meant hi, I see you. He loved that gesture. He loved you, his infuriating woman who didn’t pay attention to your own limits.

“Y/N,” he whined quietly at the back of your head. The impatient huffs and whimpers were quiet, though probably not so quiet your colleagues couldn’t hear. He didn’t care right now. They’d think your whiny pup was dragging you away and though he hated that, it was the price he’d pay to get you upstairs to your room so you could put your feet up.

“Ok ok,” you said. To you colleagues, you explained, “My husband is telling me it’s time to go. I’ve dragged him around for three days now and I think we’ve hit the limit.”

“You need to rest,” he defended. My husband. The label flustered him as five pairs of eyes looked at him. He could read the surprise and curiosity on their faces. Husband? A hybrid? Nurse Y/N actually married a hybrid?

No, not actually. It wasn’t legal in Korea --or in most places, for that matter. But you had still had a ceremony last year when your grandparents had visited Marigold in the spring, donning traditional Korean clothing and standing underneath an arch on the dock Jungkook had built years ago. It was small and simple. His parents had come up for it too, to finally meet your grandparents. You had actually been calling him your husband to people for at least a year by that point, making a point of it after several unsurprising and hurtful assumptions about the nature of your relationship from outsiders. So you’d had your meaningful little ceremony, and he’d been more affected by it than he anticipated; he had not expected to be so touched when you legally changed your last name as your application for Korean citizenship was accepted, just one more way to connect you in a country that wouldn’t legally allow it.

You turned towards him, your belly pressing into his side as the others around the circle shook his hand and tried to hide any shock from their faces. Not only were you “married” to a hybrid, but of course they’d now wonder about that baby in your belly.

“Yes, it’s mine,” he said, though no one had asked. He knew they were wondering and he wanted them to know.

You immediately laughed and patted his chest, “Yes, it is, and you’re trying to make me take it easy, I know. So we’d better go. It’s been nice seeing you all; you’ve got my contact info. We fly home tomorrow but let’s keep in touch!” Your pat embarrassed him, or rather made him embarrassed by his own possessiveness of your. Human husbands probably didn’t announce that the baby in their (not legally) wife was theirs. But people didn’t doubt a human husband the way they would a hybrid not-real husband.

Your room was on a higher floor in the hotel. The silence of the elevator turned the noise of the conference into a tingly buzz still lingering in Jungkook’s ears, but by the time he closed the door of the hotel room, he could relax into the comfort of silence. Years ago, it had been the shift from a crowded arena during a fight to the quieter victor’s suite, where he’d get patched up, maybe given a girl to fuck, and then tossed into the kennels to collapse with the other exhausted survivors. Words couldn’t describe how much he preferred this routine: lining up your shoes by the door, listening to you putter around in the bathroom, then dragging you down onto the bed and pulling you feet into his lap. They were damp.

“You-- you don’t have to… do that,” you tried to protest, despite obviously just rinsing them off, either hopeful or accepting he was going to do this. Also part of the ritual. All it took was one good press of thumbs up the arch of your feet to make you moan and give up the fight. What you liked the most though was just the squeezing of your heels. He squeezed so hard he expected it to hurt but you just whined and sighed. The noises always went right to his dick. It didn’t take much from you to get him going and seeing you laid back against the pillows, belly rounded with his pup, feet twitching in his grip… well, it was enough. 

He wanted to rub your feet longer, but now his gaze kept sliding up to your belly until he couldn’t resist any longer. His hands followed, one flattening and tracing the curve.

“Baby is good,” you told him, answering his unasked question. He grinned as he stretched out beside you but a little lower, so his hand could continue to press. “Here,” you took his hand and pressed it low, where he could feel it, the irregular thump against his hand.

“Foot?” he asked.

“I sure hope so,” you snickered, “Or that baby is coming out with biceps as big as yours.” You squeezed his arm and he let you, amused at the way you so casually caressed each other's bodies. He kept his hand there, letting his son kick his palm.

“He’s strong,” he mused, only to flinch and quickly cover, “Do you think the baby will sleep now?”

“No, it slept the whole conference. I felt like I was stroking its head while we were down there,” you said, a contented smile on your face. He let out a sigh of relief that you hadn’t noticed his slip. 

Jungkook was certain you were carrying his son. It wasn’t that he preferred a son, but that was certainly going to be easier, seeing as he was a boy. He didn’t necessarily hope the baby was much like himself but he knew what it was like to be a little boy, and that had soothed some of his worries about fatherhood. Bitna was the only girl he’d grown up with and she wasn’t a very normal girl, so he’d be lost with a daughter. But he’d just sensed early on that the baby was a boy, and so hadn’t minded when you suggested not learning the baby’s sex until it was born because what did it matter?

It didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t, Jungkook had assured you when he’d first started insisting it was a boy and you had broken down in tears. He’d never forget you sobbing with disappointment in him, “Are you really one of those traditionalist men who only cares about a son?” No! No, he wasn’t! He just happened to think a son would be easier and happened to believe this baby was a son! To soothe you, he’d enthusiastically agreed not to find out the baby’s sex, agreeing it didn’t matter, secretly knowing he was going to be right.

And it didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. It didn’t, Jungkook had reminded himself when the technicians didn’t disclose the baby’s sex. It wasn’t that he’d maybe wanted to know to reassure himself he wasn’t having a daughter, (moot, since his gut said it was a boy) but because he was just desperate to know anything at all. 

He stroked the spot on your belly the baby had been kicking. There was another hard kick that made you grunt, followed by a louder grunt.

“Oof, it’s moving.”

Jungkook dragged your flowy shirt up, watching the ridge of the baby’s back he could see as it shuffled and twisted inside. You could always feel when the baby moved like that. You could feel when the baby got hiccups or was sleeping. You could feel when the baby got startled by a loud sound around you or when it grew still listening to the soothing music Jungkook played at home every day while he painted. He knew you also had the aches and pains and cramps and heartburn and swollen ankles and back aches. 

But you got to experience this, the baby was already so real to you that he’d catch you mumbling to it sometimes, or tapping your fingers against your belly when the baby’s head or butt pressed against it in silent communication, or rocking in the glider you bought on recommendation from Taehyung and Yejin --who had just had their third and, according to Yejin, absolute final. 

Jungkook was on the outside of it. He went to almost every doctor’s appointment, trading shifts at the restaurant where he still worked to clear his schedule. He painted the nursery, he built the furniture, he took the best damn care of you he could. But he still had to wait to meet the baby in a way you didn’t, and he just wanted to know something about this baby, who was going to change your lives “in ways you can’t even imagine yet,” according to his mother. All he had to go on so far was that he thought the baby was a boy.

But he kept that to himself, tracing his finger over the bulge of a head or a butt pressed just above your belly button. Your fingers wound into his hair, scratching his scalp, sending goosebumps shooting across his arms. When he glanced at your face though, your eyes were closed, your expression peaceful for a brief moment.

“You’re tired, jagi,” he murmured and kissed your belly. 

“I won’t admit it.”

“Admit it,” he teased.

“Never.”

You didn’t even complain enough to him, he didn’t think. He wouldn’t have minded. Listening to you narrate every minor ache and pain could have given him a greater window into your experience. Listening was the part he could do.

“You don’t stop for anything,” he said. “But now you have to. We came to the conference. Now we’ll go home and you promised.”

“I know, I promised. We’ll go home and I’ll take it easy.”

He heard the extra something in your voice and knew not to push further. The sadness crept in, like it sometimes still did, even though this baby was healthy and growing well. The timing of the wedding and name change had also been an emotional reset. After two years of trying before you actually got pregnant, only for the first pregnancy to end in an early miscarriage, you’d both whispered doubts to each other in the dark whether a child could actually be in your future. Now you had a healthy growing baby in your belly but still there had been minor disagreements when you thought he coddled or he thought you pushed yourself too far. Would he have packed you up in bubble wrap for the whole pregnancy if he could, like you’d accused him of? Well… maybe.

But this you had agreed on. This conference was the last thing you would leave Marigold for. Now you would go home and be gentle with yourself and let him pamper you until the time came that Jungkook could finally meet his son.

You were still scratching his scalp as he murmured, “I love you.” It still felt bold to say it sometimes, but he was determined to say it every day. This baby would take being loved for granted, it would hear about it so much. No matter what happened, this baby would always know it had a father who loved him.

“I love you too,” you returned, rolling onto your side towards him.

“Yes, and I love you too,” Jungkook conceded.

“You didn’t mean me?” you pouted, a smile in your voice.

“I love you both,” Jungkook said and kissed you before settling on the pillows, your belly cradled between you.

Damn, he was ready to go home. This conference had been really fucking boring.

                                            -------------------------------

You sat on the living room sofa in the main house, staring at the ground, sulking. They’d called Jungkook. They might as well have called your dad, for all the gravity the call was made with and for all the pleading not to and for all the dread you had about the consequences. Jungkook was going to be unhappy with you. 

Sure enough, you could recognize his steps as the front door swung open, and his serious stare met you a moment later. You tried to return his stare, but then closed your eyes and slumped backwards on the couch, clasping your hands on top of your stomach. He sat beside you on the couch.

“She completely fainted,” Jimin tattled, appearing with a second cool cloth to drape across your forehead. The one Dale had given you was already around you neck, making you shirt uncomfortably wet. Eunju had lifted your feet onto the coffee table and brought you juice and crackers. 

“Hit the ground?” Jungkook asked, eyes wide with concern but brow somehow still lowered. 

You were the one to quickly say, “No, I barely fainted and Namjoon caught me--”

“I caught her,” Namjoon agreed, striding in. He set a glass of ice water on the table as well. “She smelled a little strange--”

“Probably just a sugar crash,” you quickly clarified. “Nothing more serious. You always smell people when they sugar crash. I just went a little too long before lunch. I was just about to stop and eat--”

“You said that like an hour ago, babe,” Maya called. Everyone was circling, bustling in and out of the room. You hated the coddling. You hated the attention. You hated that they had called Jungkook for something this trivial --you were a nurse! You knew it was just a small dizzy spell! 

Jungkook just studied your face for a moment, taking in all the information from these fucking snitches, before touching your shoulder and asking, “You want to rest here? Or should I take you home?”

“Take me home,” you quickly answered. “These mother hens are driving me crazy. I’m fine!”

“Well when our nurse is still working at thirty-eight weeks pregnant and faints, we get a little antsy,” Jimin scoffed. “Complain all you want!”

“How do you even remember the weeks? Do you have my due date penciled in--”

“We all do! It’s right on the calendar in the kitchen! When that baby comes and you stay home to recover, we can all finally let out a sigh of relief,” Maya teased. She stopped behind the couch and pressed her hands to your shoulders. 

“I’m pregnant, not made of rice paper. Women run marathons pregnant.”

“Not this woman,” Dale beamed at you. “So sorry you aren’t Superwoman this time, must be hard for your ego. Now Let Jungkook take you home, get some rest. And Y/N… You don’t have to wait until you’re literally pushing a baby out of your body. Take time off as soon as you need it.”

“I don’t. I just went a little too hard, that’s all,” you grumbled. You held your hand out for Jungkook to take, not amused when he adjusted the damp towels so they would come along for the ride. He helped you to the front door, and held you steady while you stepped into your flats --the big comfortable ugly ones that were the only thing that fit your larger feet right now. Once you were on the porch, he considered asking to carry you down, you could see the thought on his face. But apparently the scowl on your face worked, and he just helped you down and into the car.

It was a quiet ride home, though fortunately not a long one. You could smell the paint from the nursery, making it obvious how he’d spent his afternoon; as soon as you were deposited on the sofa, he ran to open the nursery windows and shut the door so it could air out without letting all the heat out of the house. He disappeared into the kitchen next, returning with an assortment of snacks to display before you on the coffee table a moment later. He brought you a blanket and a pillow and then pulled you feet onto his lap to roll the compression socks down.

“Don’t,” you complained because it felt like too much right now. He was being too sweet and he hadn’t scolded you yet, but you knew it was coming. you could see it on his face, held down by his furrowed eyebrows. “Just… say it and get it over with.”

“If you aren’t going to take care for your own sake, at least do it for the baby.”

You closed your eyes and looked away. That hurt more than you had expected. You felt a painful bubble in your chest at the words.

“I’m not endangering the baby,” you mumbled, gaze shifting to your hands in your lap. “I hate that you think that. You already think I’m a bad mother.”

“Huh?” The shift in his voice was immediate. “I don’t think that. I just meant…” He trailed off; you could feel his careful study. But the painful lump in your throat lingered and you knew if you looked at him you might cry.

“I’m not being reckless. My health is good. I’m taking breaks. I’m just not ready to stop working yet and sit around twiddling my thumbs--”

“You have to slow down.”

“If I slow down any more I’ll just be a potted plant!” you argued. “I didn’t forget to eat, I just wasn’t hungry yet because the heartburn has ruined my appetite. That’s normal! There’s no space for my stomach with the baby in there and it hasn’t dropped yet so--”

“So little meals, you said. You need snacks. You need to stop and rest.”

“I eat snacks but it just happened. I was just dizzy; I probably stood up too fast but everything is fine and I need you to stop acting like I’m just being selfish.”

“You should stop working and stay home and rest.”

“These are my last weeks to get to be Nurse Y/N before I’m just Mom,” you snapped. “Don’t take that away from me. I’m fine. Please trust that I love this baby too and I am not doing anything to endanger it. I knew you’d overreact; they shouldn’t have bothered calling you--”

“Y/N.”

You both lapsed into silence, staring in opposite directions. You were trying not to cry but the exhaustion and the frustration were building. 

“The only thing I can do to help the baby right now is take care of you,” he finally said. “You have to let me do that.”

“I am. But you have to trust me when I say I’m fine.”

“Fainting isn’t fine.”

“They exaggerated because they’re worried.” His sigh revealed what he thought of that answer. “I’m fine. I’ll eat more frequent small snacks and be fine. Please, just… please.” You didn’t know specifically what you were asking for. More trust. Less scolding. More compassion. Less guilt. 

Less guilt was really the thing you needed most. You had been prepared for the physical changes --more or less, anyway. As a nurse, you had taken care of plenty of pregnant women. Sure, going through them was a step beyond but still, you could identify symptoms and normal changes and causes for concern like a textbook. That was comforting.

What you had not been prepared for was the guilt. The fears. The mental and emotional worries that plagued your dreams and your waking both. The bigger you got, the more the world revolved around the baby growing in your belly, but you couldn’t help the small voice in your head crying but what about me? Don’t I still matter? You had made plenty of adjustments and sacrifices as needed to make sure the baby was happy and healthy and growing in there --you’d eliminated certain foods and coffees, just to be safe; you went to bed on time; you napped; you didn’t go visit your grandparents because of the risk of Zika; and so on and so on. Yes, you felt sad about those sacrifices sometimes. Wasn’t that allowed? Or did that mean you were already a terrible mother? You had plenty of people ask why you were still working this late in your pregnancy but it was because you could! You were healthy! The pregnancy was going well this time! And soon you would be home with the new baby for at least six months, maybe longer, and what would that even look like for you? You had been miserable when not working before. Who would you be when you were nothing but this baby’s mother for a while, possibly a long while? Could you be happy like that? Were you already failing for being worried about such selfish things, for still thinking about a career and a life that didn’t revolve solely around your child? Was it because Jungkook had wanted to have a baby more than you had? Were you doomed to be an unloving, terrible mother from the start because he was the one who’d wanted this first, and this was just proof of that? But you did want this baby! You had agreed to this, to the heartbreak of trying again after that first loss, because you wanted this too! Couldn’t you want both?

“Y/N,” he said, hand sliding across your back. You turned into his shoulder and finally couldn’t withhold the tears any longer. They streamed onto his shirt, soaking the fabric as you sobbed. He held you, but the position was awkward with your belly taking up so much space in between. He wound up dragging you onto his lap, tangling your bodies together the way puppies did, piling on each other to comfort or be comforted.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry. I know everything is harder for you right now. I can’t make anything easier. I’m just trying to take care of you. You work so hard all the time and I just want you to know that it’s ok for growing a baby to be enough.”

It wasn’t like him to stream out words like that; he must feel really bad and that soothed you too, reminding you that he didn’t know what the fuck they were doing either. 

“I don’t think I’m very good at being pregnant,” you admitted, pressing your face to his neck. 

“You are growing a healthy baby so you are very good at being pregnant. You are just not good at slowing down.”

“I don’t want to slow down,” you argued. “I listen to my body; I stop when I have to. But when I feel fine… Everything is changing and I’m trying not to complain or fuss but--”

“Complain to me, jagi! I’m your mate!”

“Yeah, but…”

He pressed his nose to your temple, rubbing, then nipped your nose and said gently, “I want to hear. I want to know. I don’t know anything. I can learn from you.”

“I don’t know anything either, Jungkook. I mean, I know about gestation and healthy baby size and pregnancy food needs. But I don’t know how to… how to become a mother, at least not a good one.”

“You’re a good mother already.”

“I’m not. I can’t be. I love this baby and I want this baby but everyone is saying I need to stop working, stop going places, stop doing things. Everything needs to be about the baby. So am I supposed to just stop existing except as a mother? I don’t know how to blend those things! And I want to work, I need to work, because I’m good at it but I’m not good at a having a baby like this and then at least if I fail as a mother, maybe I can make the baby proud as a nurse.”

This said, you leaned heavily against his shoulder again, a hollow ache where the words were no longer bricked up inside you.

After a while, Jungkook sighed, “I don’t know anything about it either. You know a lot about babies and I don’t know anything. But I think we’re going to be a happy family. I know it. We’ll do our best and love each other and I think that’s enough. All I ever wanted was to know my parents loved me.”

“I don’t know if my parents loved me,” you admitted, “I guess they did. But I don’t think they liked me very much.”

“I think we’ll like our baby.”

“I think so too,” you readily agreed. “It’s just that… everything is about to change. I’m so excited to meet this baby but I’m so fucking scared of getting this baby out,” you admitted with a small laugh. “And then… then what?”

He let out a deep breath and admitted, “I didn’t know you were scared about it too.”

“Of course I’m scared about it. You are?”

“Yeah.”

“You just act so… confident about everything. You take such good care of me and you remember everything and you’ve worked so hard on the nursery. You wanted this baby so bad, you were ready. I mean, I want it too! It’s just that the closer we get, the more I worry, am I really ready? What if I lose myself? I just become someone’s mom, nothing more… what if that’s not enough for me?”

“You will always be more than that,” he corrected. “Our baby has a busy mother. That’s ok. We said that. When you want to go back to work, if we need someone home with the baby still, I can do it. Why does it have to be the mom who stays home?” You had said that, as you’d imagined the many different ways your future could look. You didn’t know if Jungkook had been serious about that, about his willingness to stay home. You didn’t think you could bear the guilt of leaving your baby home, failing as a mother like that --you were supposed to want to stay home, weren’t you? And maybe you would want that! And maybe he wouldn’t want to! You couldn’t say because you just didn’t know what to expect!

“How can you say you’re scared when you sound so certain about everything?” you sighed enviously.

“I know we will figure it out. I can do anything with you in my corner and I’m in your corner so… we’ll be good.”

“Really? A boxing reference?”

You felt his smile as he kissed your jaw and shifted on the couch so he could drag the blanket over you both.

“Yes,” he said. “I know more about boxing than about babies but I will work harder at this than anything in my life. Together we’ll make it work. Not everything will change.”

“Are you going to say we’ll still have each other?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. His fingers were softly stroking your jaw. “I worry about things too. You’ll love the baby and forget about me…”

“I won’t,” you gasped, leaning away and staring into his face. “You’re my love, my mate, my partner. The baby won’t replace you!” He did not actually look too worried about it though.

“A little bit in the beginning. Taehyung talks to me about it. But I know you love me and you need me and it’s like that for me and we are two strong people, we can handle a baby,” he grinned. “A baby is little. We can win.” It made you smile, even laugh a little.

“Yeah, what’s one small baby against us, huh?” You leaned back against his shoulder and clung to his faith in you as a mother, his confidence you could figure this out. You wanted to be as certain, but you were still scared. What if you were wildly inept? What if the baby didn’t like you, or you struggled to love it, or you grew bitter about the career sacrifices that would have to happen to make sure the child came first as it deserved? What if you didn’t like being home with it? What if --as you had once feared-- mothering just wasn’t a thing that came naturally to you? Anytime you had hinted at that fear with Yejin or Helene or your grandmother, they’d laughed: you are full of love; you don’t have to be exactly like any other mother, but you are going to be a wonderful mother to your own wonderful baby because you have been a healing mother to so many people already. 

“You’re going to be such a wonderful father, Jungkook. You are strong and soft and wonderful in all the right ways.”

“Everything I know I learned from you,” he prodded. 

“That’s not true, but thank you.” You kissed the warm side of his neck. “Now what can you tell me to make me feel better about the pain of childbirth?”

“You are the strongest woman I know--”

“No no, that doesn’t work.”

“Drugs,” he said. “Lots of drugs. Epidural, yeah? Yeah.”

“We’ll see, I don’t know… I just don’t know anything, Jungkook.”

“You know a lot, Y/N. You just care a lot too.”

“I do care a lot.”

“I know. So it’s ok.” He rubbed his nose against yours and nipped again, kissed down your cheek and nipped your jaw. It was crazy how used to this form of comfort you had become over the years; you craved it when you were stressed or upset. You let your head fall back so he could nip along your neck. The mental image came again, of Jungkook nuzzling and cuddling your baby like this, you draped around them. It was the thought that had finally changed your mind on having a baby, too, the certainty that Jungkook was going to be a very, very good father, and that you would do your best to keep up. 

You sighed, going limp in his arms, until he finally ran his nose up to your ear.

“Sleepy jagiya,” he murmured. 

“Mm-hm.”

“I’ll carry you to bed?”

“Mm-hm, ok,” you conceded, knowing he took great pride in still lifting you with the additional weight. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you to the bedroom. “Wait, are you almost finished with the nursery? I want to see.”

“Later. Rest first. The nursery will still be there.”

“But you’re working so hard on it--”

“You are working even harder,” he argued. “Now you need to rest.”

“Do you think that tone will work with our child?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Me too,” you laughed, and let it work with you now, especially since he let you pull him down to the bed to nap with him. Tangled in his arms and legs, you felt better. Almost like you could do this, at least if you had him by your side, and all your friends who had overreacted today because they cared. Maybe, if you tried really hard, this could all be enough for the baby.

“Everyone just wants to be loved,” you whispered to yourself.

“You overflow with love,” Jungkook whispered back. “It’s not a concern.” He sounded so serious about it, so certain. It was the last reassurance you needed to curl up on your side, pillow stuffed between your knees to cushion your joints, and fall asleep.

                                     -----------------------------------

Damn. Damn he had been an idiot. Jungkook sat in the chair beside your  hospital bed, the plastic tub with your baby inside boxing him in, and stared at the wall. 

Damn, he had gotten everything so very wrong.

He was in shock. He knew that. He remembered the feeling of getting dragged from a fire and tossed into a cold pool, the way your skin tingled and your lungs burned and your eyes ached to close for a while, the way you were sweaty and cold at the same time. 

Had it all really happened? Really?

He glanced at the bassinet and couldn’t believe it was a real baby inside. He ought to be holding it but it was asleep and he didn’t want to disturb it, even though you had begged him to hold it while you slept, afraid it would feel cold and lonely. Your faith in him had been astonishing; seeing how much strength you took from him was incredible and he felt completely insufficient for it. What good had he been? No good, not good for a single fucking thing!

Sure, he’d held your arm as you paced through your contractions. He’d held your hips and pushed into your lower back as you had used the baby crib he’d built to help you sway through the worst of the pain. It had made him sick to see you in pain but he’d bitten that back and done his best to walk you through every survival method he knew.

Sure, he’d maintained his calm as he drove you to the hospital, and held your hand through checking in, and only snapped a little when the nurses were taking too long getting you into a room. He’d been calm and thorough about attending to your every need, desperate to do anything when it seemed like his options to help you were limited. This is normal, the nurse had assured you. Just a few hours and then you’ll have your baby.

But the hours dragged on. And on. And on. Your pain broke him, froze him, re-animated him. The nurses didn’t like him, he knew that, because he didn’t have any patience for their glacial pace when you needed something. He didn’t like how they could be chatting and laughing and happy while checking your’s and the baby’s vitals, not when you would curl forward, trying to escape the contractions. Pain was inescapable, and having to watch you go through it… it was too much. He had not been prepared for how terrible it would be. He’d been so focused on the baby and taking care of you throughout your pregnancy that he hadn’t worried enough about this part. He’d trusted too much the idea that women did this all the time. It had left him unprepared for the gut-wrenching agony of watching you suffer.

And then things got worse. The baby wasn’t moving. Your water had broken too long ago and you were starting to get a fever and the baby was being stubborn. Oh no, he’s going to be like me, Jungkook had fretted, long past rational thought at this point. He’d stood dumbly by as the nurses and doctor and you had discussed, as they’d tried to ask him his opinion, as he’d only nodded and motioned to whatever you said without understanding what was happening because internally he was panicking and this time you couldn’t soothe him through it.

Sure, he’d walked behind the gurney as they’d carted you down to surgery. He’d put on the gown and mask and papery hat and stood by your head, where the nurses nudged him. He’d held your hand, unable to look away from the exhaustion and fear on your face as they raised a curtain to perform the surgery out of your view. Surgery. Real surgery. He’d seen into your body as the doctors lifted a baby out of you.  You had cried as the baby screamed and he just stared, too slow and unresponsive to even cut the cord. He had expected to immediately recognize the baby’s scream, but it was just a noise, not even a very concerning one at the moment. He’d watched you nuzzle the baby under your chin, a swollen, red, angry baby that looked nothing like he’d imagined other than the dark hair like his own. He’d even touched your face to reassure you, pulled your gown back into place where it had been knocked around in the chaos; but even that had been wrong, you’d been trying to unsnap it so you could hold the baby against the warm skin of your chest. You already knew what to do with your upset child. The baby had drawn his attention less than the long line of stitches being sewn into your lower belly; you would have a big scar, a reminder of what he’d watched you endure.

Things were blurry after that. You were drugged in a way that scared him, but your attention was so focused on the baby that his fear didn’t matter right now much anyway. You were taken to a recovery room, the baby was looked at, everyone was said to be healthy and fine. Jungkook had called some people, his parents, your grandparents, Jimin. He hadn’t been able to tell them much except that everything was apparently fine, confused when they asked if he was all right and if you had named the baby yet.

The baby twitched in its cubby. He peeked down, but the baby settled back to sleep so he didn’t touch it. When he leaned back in his chair, he read the card on the side again: Baby Girl Jeon, DOB 2-24.

A girl! Even the baby had turned out different than his expectations for what “becoming parents” would go like. A girl…

He stared at the wall and wished he could fall asleep but knew it wouldn’t come. He felt like he’d been through the worst fight of his career. He felt like he’d been through a war. In reality, he felt nothing, just sat there shocked about it all and wondering how he could be so useless and how his expectations had been so fucking wrong.

                                          ---------------------------------

He must have drifted off again without realizing it, because noise in the room woke him. He was embarrassed to find he’d failed even as a guard; two nurses were helping you sit up while a third finished changing the baby’s tiny diaper. This kept happening. He was trying his best to stay awake, so he could be on hand to get anything you needed --ice, water, applejuice, more blankets, more pillows, move the pillows, turn on the TV, turn off the TV. The pain from your incision definitely was worse the next day, and they took your catheter out but you needed help walking to the bathroom. You were slow and fragile-seeming and it terrified him, and so he wanted to be always on hand to help you.

But once again he’d fallen asleep in that uncomfortable chair, tricked into it by his own tired brain. 

Quickly he sat up, leaning close on the edge of the bed, but you didn’t seem upset with him about sleeping. You scratched his jaw and smiled at him, then held your arms out as the nurse lowered the baby into them. Whatever pain or lingering trauma you must have from giving birth in that manner, you seemed utterly distracted from it whenever the baby was near.

“Isn’t she perfect?” you whispered. He watched you stroke the baby’s downy black ears, still paperthin and folded up, just barely poking out of the shock of dark hair. The baby looked up at you with dark eyes beneath a heavy brow; very much like the baby pictures Jungkook’s mother had texted you to compare earlier this morning. He worried the baby might have his nose too, and how would that look on a little girl? 

“Well I think she is,” you cooed, making him realize he hadn’t answered yet.

“She’s small,” he said. No, that wasn’t good enough. “She…”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Huh?”

“I know you wanted a boy,” you said. He didn’t have to see your face to hear the threat of tears.

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not disappointed. I’m just… surprised.” He leaned down on the bed beside you, watching the baby, trying to feel that connection he had hoped would come immediately. Even seeing his own image reflected back at him in tiny ways didn’t make him look at this infant and know anything more about it than he had when it was still tucked away in your stomach. Logically he knew the baby would grow and get more personality and someday be walking and talking like Taehyung’s kids but… He realized you were watching him stare at the baby, so he added, “I don’t know anything about little girls.”

“You don’t know what a little boy would have been like either,” you argued, the same argument you’d had while pregnant. “A girl could still like cars and fighting and--”

“I don’t want anyone to like fighting.”

“--And a boy might have liked dolls and tea parties.”

“I know that,” he insisted. “It’s not important, Y/N. I’m not disappointed.”

“You can’t be disappointed. She’s perfect.” You hooked your finger into a tiny fist. The baby smacked its lips and wriggled in its blanket, curling closer to your chest and nodding off. Apparently eating and a diaper change had been too much excitement and worn it out. 

“I’m not disappointed,” he insisted again. “Are you?”

“No. What? Why would I be disappointed?”

“Ears. Tail.”

“Yes, my daughter is a hybrid, so? So is my mate”

Jungkook nodded but secretly didn’t believe you. You were drugged and tired and not thinking about it because you couldn’t actually be that oblivious. With a human mother, the baby would qualify for human citizenship, but with hybrid features, it would face the same barriers Jungkook did. Even though you had spent your life working with hybrids, you could still move fluidly between the worlds. You didn’t understand. He had hoped his child would be spared this; some mixed children didn’t even have the ears of their hybrid parent, apparently the most dominant of hybrid features. He had hoped his child would just be a boy copy of you. That would have been the best, easiest future. This child… he just didn’t know how he was possibly supposed to protect it. He’d barely managed to protect you for the last nine months.

“I know I don’t know what it’s like to be a hybrid,” you said, once again making Jungkook suspect you had secret mind-reading abilities. “And I wouldn’t wish any struggles on my own child. But I’ve spent my life trying to make this world a better place for hybrids, and now I’ll keep fighting that fight to make it a better place for our daughter. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and happy and healthy. She’s beautiful and I wouldn’t change a thing about her, certainly not to make her look less like my handsome mate.”

He pressed his face to your arm, only to be stunned when you added, “Please don’t scent me though until you’re willing to scent her too.”

“What?”

“You haven’t yet.”

“She’s so small,” he defended.

“Ok. But usually hybrids scent their babies right away--”

“You aren’t a hybrid, don’t lecture me.”

You went silent. He cringed. You nodded and he could feel the weight of your swallow, the way you bit back tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to your arm. But you had said not to scent you, so he didn’t. He should scent the baby instead but he’d said the truth. It was so small. A boy baby would have been bigger, right? Sturdier? The boy baby he’d seen in his head was bigger.

He wasn’t soothed by your answer, “I know.” It felt like there was a but in there. But… you aren’t being the partner I need. But… you aren’t being a good father. But… you don’t belong here in this human hospital. But… it’s your fault I had to go through all this pain. But… it’s your fault our baby has dog ears and a dog tail and will never look just like every other little girl. 

“Can I get you anything?” he asked. It was lame, a lame attempt to still be useful to you.

“My stitches are hurting pretty bad,” you admitted. “Can you ask the nurse when I can have more pain medicine?” 

That he could do. He rose swiftly and headed for the door, but paused and looked back. He watched you stroke the little head one more time and kiss it, then gently tug a yellow hat down over the tiny head. He heard your sniffle from the door. You thought he hated the baby. He didn’t hate it! He just didn’t know it!

Fuck. He was failing. He’d been a father for less than forty-eight hours and already he was failing.

In his panic, he forgot about the medication. He blanked on it completely, he got distracted by his own frustrations, and he left the hospital to go for a jog to clear his mind. He’d come back a new man, he would! He psyched himself up about all the things he’d do better when he got back from his jog. He’d change diapers! He’d have the nurse show him again how to swaddle! He’d start writing down your medication times so he could keep it up when you went home and there wasn’t another nurse there doing it for you-- fuck, your medication!

He turned and jogged back to the hospital, determined for a better round two.

                                    -----------------------------------

The hospital had not let you stay long. Three days didn’t feel like long enough, and Jungkook had tried to argue with the doctor about it, but you already knew the lines the doctor responded with. You were healthy and your sutures were healing nicely. The baby was healthy and even eating nicely. You were a nurse, living in a sanctuary with other medical staff nearby. Jungkook was even suddenly being more helpful! He hadn’t scented you daughter yet, but he was changing diapers now, doing his best to swaddle the baby in a blanket, and even watched over her closely when you slept. You would wake that final day and night to see him staring down at the baby, or even reaching out a finger to touch her little cheek, and while it wasn’t scenting, it looked more like acceptance.

So there was no reason to stay longer in the hospital other than your own fear over the reality that you and Jungkook were actually parents now, parents with a baby to take care of, with the added complication that you were recovering from more of a surgery than you had expected. Of course you had known there was a risk of Cesarean. You had wanted to avoid it, to avoid the additional healing process. But by the time the doctor decided it was time, you’d had no fight left in you and had known it was the right call, for your baby’s safety and your own. 

But it didn’t mean you were ready to look at the steri-strips and long scar any more than you had to right now. Your saggy tummy, your painfully swollen breasts and aching nipples and the constant sense you were peeing yourself, none of mattered right now because your body had worked hard and deserved some love and patience. The birth already felt like a dream, except for that damn incision. Besides, you had a beautiful baby who needed you right now.

All of you. Mi-Cha never didn’t need you. If Mi-cha wasn’t on you in some way, she was screaming. Awake? Needs to be held against your heart or tucked under your chin. Asleep? Needs to be held against your heart or tucked under your chin. She might allow you to lay down in bed with her and sleep with Mi-Cha curled up in your armpit, but you were terrified of rolling over and crushing her, which meant Jungkook had to sit there and supervise. 

Poor Jungkook. Poor yourself too, sure, you were exhausted beyond all exhaustion, but at least there was something sweet about the baby clinging so desperately to you. Jungkook tried to be present and helpful and give you a break and it only ever led to screaming, and those little newborn shrieks inevitably led to you bursting into your own frantic tears. Every time he offered to take the baby so you could try to sleep, you could see him bracing himself for the unfailing shrieks. You certainly couldn’t fall asleep like that, but you could shower or quickly eat something or at least change your clothes. Maybe your hygiene wasn’t the best but hey, newborn babies loved the scent of their mama, right?

It was no way to live though. It couldn’t last. After only three days of this, you were nearing a breakdown and you knew it and couldn’t see an end in sight. Jungkook’s parents wouldn’t be here until the end of the following week and they wouldn’t be wizards with a baby. Maya and Ana had both come by, called by you to check the baby and make sure you weren’t missing something wrong because you felt incompetent over how much your daughter cried. It wasn’t like Mi-Cha always just stopped immediately crying as soon as you held her, once she got going about your betrayal for setting her down, or because you failed to anticipate whatever she wanted but couldn’t communicate yet. She was fussy and demanding and beautiful but you felt like your little family was already failing. 

So on day three, it was back to the pediatrician for a second visit for another verification that nothing was wrong. Nope. Mi-Cha was gaining weight at a good clip. She responded properly to stimuli and didn’t react to any presses on her tummy or head or tail. Gas was suggested and you were given drops to coax into her and told to keep trying, sometimes babies just took time to settle into a routine. 

But at home it continued. Jungkook offered to help less, knowing it didn’t do any good, and probably because he was exhausted having his own child scream at him and reject him. It was particularly problematic since you were more convinced by the day that Jungkook hated the baby anyway. It wasn’t a boy. It looked like him. It had puppy ears and a tail and just wasn’t what he meant when he said he wanted a baby. Frankly, his rejection hurt you too, after you worked so long and hard to make this baby. It drove a wedge between you. It had only been four days but it felt like a week had passed and you couldn’t help but feel like your lives had been ruined.

                                    -----------------------------------

“Mi-Cha,” you sang, badly because you were exhausted and had no energy or mental stamina to carry a tune. “Mi-cha, Mi-cha, sweetest lovely Mi-Cha, take a little nap so your mommy can do it too.” You cradled the baby in the crook of your elbow as you tried to unwrap a granola bar because heaven forbid you put Mi-Cha down for a moment. Your hands were shaking at your daughter’s angry shouts regardless, but you thought if you could just eat something you would get a second wind. Or, well, a fiftieth wind. A hundredth wind?

Jungkook watched you from the doorway, reading all of these things, but not sure how to help. His feelings of helplessness had only grown since coming home, watching you get dragged further under the demands of a newborn. You were both exhausted, but he knew you were carrying more of the weight right now and he didn’t know what to do. Belatedly, he realized he could at least open the fucking granola bar for you and dove forward. But Mi-Cha was already angry she’d been held wrong for too long, so by the time he handed the granola bar over, you were crying quietly beneath Mi-Cha’s wail. He held the granola bar up, trying to give you an encouraging smile and knowing he failed.

At that moment, your phone buzzed itself off the kitchen counter and landed perfectly on his foot. He cursed and grabbed it. His mother. Well, he could at least take care of that. He showed you the caller ID and wasn’t surprised by the way your expression sank. But he quickly grabbed the phone away and left the room, answering, making clear to you he would deal with it. His mother had been calling daily, trying to be helpful but adding stress already, even though she and Appa weren’t coming to visit until the end of next week.

“Eomeoni, hello,” he greeted, making sure she could hear the baby in the background before he closed himself into the bedroom. 

“Mi-Cha has strong lungs,” she mused.

“She has strong everything,” he sighed. “Strong lungs, strong demands, strong complaints.”

He could hear the amusement in her voice as she said, “Yes, yes, a new baby is difficult. You were hard for us, too, so hard. It takes me back. You sounded just like that. Do all babies sound like it? I don’t think so, I think I know she’s mine by her cry.” He slumped on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes. It was sweet that his parents were so excited about Mi-Cha. While he felt like there would always be a pebble in the shoe of their relationship, their instant love and adoration for the granddaughter they hadn’t even met yet had felt like a new layer of healing over old wounds. But right now, his mother’s sympathy didn’t solve the problem and he was so tired he could barely follow her.

“... so every day after lunch your father would come home from work early and take you so I could sleep for a few hours, and then he’d do it again at midnight. It was odd hours but you just wouldn’t accept anything else; even as a new baby, you had an idea of how the house was going to go!” It was interesting to hear that, seeing as his own memories of childhood didn’t recall his parents being pushovers to his whims. 

But something else caught him, and he asked, “Did Appa have any special tricks? Mi-Cha won’t let go of Y/N. She wants nothing to do with me. I know a mother is the most important but--”

“Appa!” she called, her voice loud through the phone as she forgot to pull away. Jungkook flinched. “Appa! Talk to your son, he wants to know a father thing. I don’t know what you did to Gukka so he’d be quiet with you when he was a-- yes, talk to him.”

The phone changed hands and Jungkook rubbed his forehead as Appa greeted him, asked about the baby, asked about you, and only then said, “Yes, ok, what is the question?”

“Eomeoni says when I was baby, you would take me so she could sleep. Y/N needs to sleep but Mi-Cha just screams all the time. How did you do it?”

“Oh, well, I… I didn’t do anything remarkable,” he said, sounding confused by it. “You were a good baby. We’d just do our thing, father and son.” Jungkook physically cringed, it hurt his stomach; he realized he hadn’t eaten in a while either. He needed to make something better for you both to eat than granola bars and cold noodles. 

“I don’t have a son,” he said, sharper than he would have meant on a normal day.

“Yeah, we didn’t use our dongles!” Appa laughed, loud and easy and relaxed. “What’s different? You can tell me. I kept you and your eomma scented well enough. I’d bundle you up in a little sash against my chest, and off we’d go!”

“Go where?” Jungkook asked, brow lowering. 

“Oh, we just walked. We walked and walked, it was nice,” Appa said. “We watched the leaves change and we’d walk to get fresh bread or rice cakes from the shops. You’d cook with me or sometimes we’d watch TV together if it rained…”

That was the thing. That was the thing Jungkook hadn’t tried yet. He’d been waiting until things felt better, until he felt a connection with Mi-Cha, until he felt like she wanted him to be near her, but now Appa had him wondering if he’d gotten the most obvious thing wrong. 

“I have to go, Appa,” he abruptly said. “Thank you. Tell Eomma thank you.” He hung up before anything else could delay and hoped his parents would understand.

He hurried to the nursery, where he could hear you mumbling to Mi-Cha through the closed door. You looked over from the window where you swayed with Mi-Cha under your chin when he flung the door open, and it struck him again how tired his poor love looked. 

“Go sleep, jagiya,” he said, striding forward. You gave him a crooked smile, certain he was joking. But he was determined to give it a solid effort and pressed his face to your neck.

“Gukka--”

“Shh, jagiya, I’ll scent her in a moment. Let her smell me on you first,” he murmured, nipping his way along your neck, rubbing his nose and chin. Even just that eased the tension in his shoulders he’d started to grow used to again; touching you so closely soothed him, like he too was a needy little baby unwillingly separated from warm, soft, wonderful you. Maybe you felt the same; you sighed and lifted your chin, the saddest little whimper coming from you he’d ever heard. He wrapped his arms around you, embracing Mi-Cha in between, something that usually made her cry but right now she stayed silent.

Because he could, he kissed your chin and your nose and your mouth, a real kiss, the first real one since Mi-Cha had been born. 

“We’ll try this,” he murmured. “Maybe it will work.”

“What will work?”

“I’ll take better care of my girls,” he said. Vague, but you didn’t protest as he dragged his mouth down the other side of your neck, and along your shoulders, and then lower, to the soft little head cradled against your chest. 

“You too, Mi-Cha,” he said gently, brushing his nose as carefully as could be against the back of her head. She smelled like fresh laundry and newness and warmth and some extra thing that was uniquely her, though tied to himself and you. He could recognize this baby anywhere already, he knew that; he could pick her clothing out of a pile, no problem; he could find her no matter how far she wandered once she was mobile.

But now he added his scent directly to her, strong, so there’d be no question about the slight thread of relation. He pressed it to the back of her head and her little shoulder and her arm and leg and her back. You twisted her the other way and he worked his way back up, even peppered little kisses against her face and hair because she wasn’t crying about him being so close. He felt affection blossom in his chest. She wasn’t asleep, but she just lay there quietly under this, as if it was something she wasn’t sure of but understood had to happen. Her wispy hair stuck out funny around her little ears, which had already gained some shape but now looked more like little cat ears. They’d grow fast, he knew, and soon flop like his had in his baby pictures. And probably someday, maybe after puberty, they’d grow a little more, get some more shape to them, and no one would ever cut or tear them. No one would ever touch her little tail, which suddenly brushed against his hand.

“Was that a wag?!” you gasped, noticing it too. “It can’t be! That milestone isn’t until like a month.”

“I don’t know if it was that,” he admitted, but grinned because he’d instantly thought so too, just a little tap like that. “Still, it means she’s strong… Let me try…” Your eyes went wide. You both held your breaths as Jungkook lifted Mi-Cha out of your hold and instead tucked her under his own chin. 

“Shhhh. Hello, Mi-Cha,” he said quietly. He froze, worried the rumble of his voice in his chest would set her off, but she didn’t make a peep.

“She’s still awake,” you said. “But…”

“But she’s not crying.”

“It worked!” you squealed. You pressed your hand to Mi-Cha’s back, adding your own soothing, “There you go, sweet girl. Appa has you now. See? You’re safe and happy with Appa.”

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Go.”

“What?”

“Go sleep! I’ve got her.”

“Oh my god.” You stared at him, like this hadn’t even occurred to you. “Oh my god!” You pressed your hand to your mouth, then kissed them each on the cheek, then fled the room, shuffling as quickly as you could so recently after giving birth. It was almost enough to make him laugh; he could hear the weight with which you hit the bed in their bedroom, like you’d jumped onto it so nothing could pull you back. He hoped you hadn’t actually done that; your incision was still healing!

Mi-Cha stayed quiet beneath his chin. He could feel the tiniest flutter of her breath against his collarbone. But she was only wearing a diaper, freshly changed; you hadn’t dressed her yet and he worried Mi-Cha would be cold in these final days of February, even though the house was warm.

“Ok, princess pup,” he murmured, “You need clothes. Let’s see… let’s see…” He heard the tiniest chirp and bounced over to the small mirror so he could see her reflection. Her eyes were open, looking curiously around, like she was surprised by her own acceptance of this new situation. 

“Damn, you’re cute when you aren’t screaming,” he grinned because damn, he looked pretty cool holding a baby like this. 

It was tricky picking out new clothes for her without risking his grip on her. He wound up sliding her down to nestle in the crook of his arm, and while she refused to let you hold her like this, she deemed it acceptable with Jungkook. The drawers in the closet were full of baby things in all soft hues, though a few fun outfits in darker colors, mostly his friends poking fun of his own fashion style. He picked a cozy green knit sleeper and talked to her as he dressed her, since he had to put her down. She fussed about it, so he moved quickly, tucking in her little feet and little hands, careful that her tail curled comfortably up the back. Eomma had already said she was looking forward to doing all the clothing alterations when she arrived, so Mi-Cha could proudly show off her little tail. 

“You look like a little green bean,” he admitted, lifting her quickly so he could shuffle a swaddle sack into place and tuck her into it. He started to pull a hat on but she fussed enough he left it off. But he still worried her head would get cold, so he found a bigger hat, one that dwarfed her little head when he pulled it down, but she accepted that. “So cozy, so cute,” he narrated, snuggling her back down into his arms. “We won’t go far today for our first adventure. Just to the kitchen to get some food and then back here. We can sit in the comfy chair and watch the flowers grow,” he suggested. “Eomma isn’t far, she’s just sleeping…”

Even after he had eaten carefully around her and returned to ease into the nursery chair, Mi-Cha still hadn’t cried. He worried she’d be getting hungry, but instead her eyelids started to droop as he settled down with her, draping a blanket over them both. She curled up against his chest, little mouth opening and closing a few times in the tiniest yawn. His heart briefly stopped when her little covered hand pressed against his chest and she closed her eyes and dozed right off.

“I see,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, Mi-Cha. You surprised me in every way. But I made you wait while I sorted my shit out and that’s not right. I’m your appa, it’s my job to make sure you are loved and safe even when you surprise me.” He hunched over to kiss her little nose and stroked her cheek. She looked asleep, her breathing a bit heavier, but he still assured her, “You are loved and safe and I don’t know anything about you yet other than that you’re mine, and that’s enough for now.” He hesitated, then grinned, “And I think you are maybe stubborn too.”

Jungkook had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do that was more important than rocking his daughter, holding her close while she slept, and letting his mate finally get some sleep before you murdered someone.

                                    ------------------------------------

You woke slowly from you nap and stretched, mindful of the C-section scar out of habit though several months after surgery you were feeling pretty good. Your shirt had hiked up while you slept and you glanced down at the smile on your lower belly --that was how Jungkook had described it between kisses along the curve of it a week or so ago and the comparison had lingered. Not that you’d had any doubt, but a new scar was nothing unattractive to Jungkook, once he’d had a few good visits with his therapist to work through the trauma of childbirth. You had not realized ahead of time how upsetting that would be for him, but it explained too the first rough few days in which he’d kept his distance from the small baby whose birth had caused your pain, blinding him briefly to the much greater joy Mi-Cha brought.

You felt bad not to have anticipated that. But how could you have predicted the pain, the fear, the exhilaration, the euphoric joy of holding your fresh little newborn against your chest? Even thinking about it now, as you often did, made your fingers itch to grab those little thighs, brush back the little fluff of hair, or stroke along your daughter’s tail like you’d formed a habit of. Tail! You had known of course that your daughter could have some level of hybrid chimera. You hadn’t expected it to be strange to you after how much time you’d spent with hybrids and that was the only thing you’d predicted correctly: it didn’t seem unusual to you at all. Every centimeter of that baby was beloved and precious and perfect. You spent hours going over every bit of your baby, relishing in every dimple, every downy patch of hair, every little blink and hiccup and murmur. 

Fears that you would have a baby and not know what to do with it? Absolutely the truth, you still couldn’t believe you had a baby, and it still felt like you were living hour to hour trying to keep Mi-Cha fed, bathed, and entertained.

Fear that you would have a baby and not love it? Absolutely unfounded. Even once the baby was an impossible being in your arms, no longer a series of flickers and thuds within your belly, you’d loved her. Even when that tiny baby had pushed you to the brink of collapse, when you and Jungkook had cried together in shared frustration, even when Mi-Cha had ruined not one but two of your shirts with diaper explosions, even then your love had been unshakeable. Maybe not your nerves or patience, but your love.

Now the quiet house was disorienting, even though you knew it was nothing to be worried about. Jungkook took her out for a walk just about every day at this time, so you could have a rest before Jungkook would head out to the restaurant for his evening shift if he had one. You didn’t know how long he’d be gone or when he’d return so you sent him a quick text letting him know you were awake. 

[JK<3]: on my way how’s mi-cha doing? I miss her [Y/N]: very funny

You cut up an apple and wandered outside so you could watch Jungkook arrive. Sometimes they biked and sometimes they drove in a cart if you were going along but today he’d walked. With your apple slices cupped in your hand, you stood on the wooden front porch and watched him come down the road, a flowery sunbrella shielding himself and the baby from the spring sunshine. He was flushed and sweaty from the walk by the time he stepped up and Mi-Cha’s head turned side to side from where Jungkook had her wedged in the front carrier; she could obviously sense you.

“My sweet baby,” you cooed, leaning down into view and stroking her hair where the headband with the big black bow didn’t cover it. The bow matched the little romper she had on, black and red polka dots with an all-black diaper cover. She looked like a little ladybug and it was definitely not what you had put her in but Jungkook, you had learned, found a lot of enjoyment in carefully choosing Mi-Cha’s outfits for their walks. He liked her in matchy-sets, whereas you really just put on whatever was clean and within reach --because it usually didn’t stay clean for long. She’d developed pretty bad acid reflux, which meant she spit up a lot and preferred to be upright and held, none of which her daddy minded at all. He’d proclaim “Time for a wardrobe change” every time he hauled her off to clean her up.

“Where were you too off to today?” you asked as Jungkook brushed past you to toss the diaper bag down just inside the door. You always smiled to see it, because Seokjin had tried to buy him a sleek black leather “dad-bag” that even you had expected him to love, and Jungkook had gone off about how dads didn’t need separate bags and who cared if this one had yellow and green pastel polka dots, and if anyone had a problem with it they could fucking fight him. 

“Mr. Moon,” he answered. You helped him untie and unbutton and untwist to pull Mi-Cha out of the carrier and took a moment to cradle Mi-Cha to your chest and kiss and nuzzle her face. Even though no scent really got applied, Mi-Cha loved it, and Jungkook had assured you there was a little of your smell that transferred. Mi-Cha gurgled and kneaded her fingers against your shirt, her little tail thump-thumping against your arm. 

“How’s he doing?” you finally answered. Jungkook gave you a look that said enough. His health had continued to deteriorate; Alya had earned her nursing license just in time to become his full-time caretaker. You knew the end was going to be incredibly difficult for Jungkook, who’d taken to Mr. Moon like a long-lost grandson so long ago. You were glad he still spent his afternoons there with Mi-Cha so often. 

The sudden kiss surprised you from the sad thought, and you leaned into it, smiling as his fingers brushed your arm.

“Hm,” you hummed. “Hello.” His bashful smile melted your heart as he made to turn away, but you leaned forward for one more kiss. You had been working on this lately, making a point of physical affection with each other. Mi-Cha had dominated both of your attentions for almost three months now and that wasn’t going to stop any time soon, but you both had admitted that you missed each other. So you had agreed to kiss more, touch more, without reason or explanation.  “I love you,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his jaw.

“I love you too,” came the reply, still music to your ears. Mi-Cha chirped and squeaked, and immediately both parents looked down at her. 

“It was a good walk,” Jungkook said, brushing Mi-Cha’s ear with his finger. “She smiles a lot at other people. I think she’ll be bright like you.”

“Bright,” you repeated. “Such a cute way to say that. But you’re forgetting how moody she gets when she doesn’t get what she wants, or if there’s too much noise, or--”

“Her ears are sensitive.”

“Ya, I know about her ears,” you teased. “Come on, you should drink some water. She’s probably about ready to eat too, unless she had a bottle.”

“She had a bottle,” he confirmed. 

“Ah, what a good girl you were for daddy today,” you cooed, swaying and bouncing her as you walked inside. “Are you going to be so good for mommy tonight?”

“I’m not working tonight.”

“Oh. I forgot--”

“That’s ok. I wrote it down.”

“I’m sure you did. The days sort of run together right now…”

He gave you a sympathetic touch on the shoulder, knowing how doubly exhausting that was, and assured you, “It’s ok. We’ll have a nice night in… unless you want to go out?” You had gone to dinner at Hoseok’s and his fiance’s place the night before though, and eaten an early dinner at the main house the night before that. It turned out, maternity leave was only as lonely and isolating as you let it be here. You had feared your social support would evaporate once Jungkook’s parents went home after two weeks but you only had to lift your phone or step out your door to find a Sanctuary’s worth of family eager to help.

Mi-Cha’s little mouth pressed against your collarbone, little tongue lapping at your skin. For most babies, that meant hunger, a rooting response meant as a gentle, early threat. But Mi-Cha liked to make things a little complicated by having a second behavior that was similar but not identical to rooting. Her little mouth latching onto something that was very clearly not a nipple for this adorable and maybe odd child meant she was sleepy. 

“Ah, she’s worn out,” Jungkook sighed, stepping close and touching her back as well as yours. “She was very busy at Mr. Moon’s…”

“Doing what? Is she finally painting?”

He snickered and corrected, “Looking, listening, fussing, holding onto pencils and paintbrushes we put in her hand.”

“Trying to make her a little protegee?” 

He looked serious as he answered, “No, no. We’ll see if she likes painting. She doesn’t have to like painting.” Mi-Cha sucked a little harder, then pulled off and let out a warning fuss.

“All right, sweet one,” you apologized. “Let’s check your diaper and then to sleep.”

“I just changed her, I think she’s fine,” Jungkook insisted, leaning down to sniff her diaper. It was more a gesture than anything though; he could always tell the second she was wet or poopy, even from across the house. At first you had envied him this immediate recognition, but there had been enough really bad diapers that had left Jungkook looking pretty green that now you thought your human sense of smell was maybe not such a bad thing. 

Together you went to the nursery. Despite Jungkook just spending the whole afternoon with Mi-Cha, you could sense his eagerness to still hold her. You felt the same way, desperate to keep that soft, warm little body close after your arms had been empty for that same time; you’d felt the emptiness even in sleep. Even now when you napped, you would sometimes startle awake, reaching for a baby you had dreamed was falling, only to realize no baby was there, and you wouldn’t have left Mi-Cha in a dangerous place to begin with.

So you motioned Jungkook to the glider, then curled up on his lap with Mi-Cha tucked in with you. The deep sigh from Jungkook left no secret how happy he was to have both his girls close. Both his girls. You melted every time you heard him say that. How silly of him to have doubted he could figure out a baby girl, as he’d admitted to you. Those fears hadn’t completely left him, but you knew and he tried to believe you that he’d figure out any other “daughter demands” just like he had changing a daughter’s diaper. He even had a little song he sang to Mi-Cha when he did it! Front to back, just like that; wipe wipe wipe, hush don’t gripe; clean the way, tummy to tail, and then put-a-new-diaper-on-quick-before-you-pee-on-me-again. 

Jungkook was right about one thing regarding Mi-Cha: her emotions were bright and loud and she didn’t hide them. She felt safe and comfortable and loved, you were certain that was why she was so forthright with her happiness, her impatience, and her tiny baby rage that sometimes poked out. Mostly though she was happy, and it showed in the steady little flick of that tail and the curve of her mouth into a sleepy smile as she chomped down on the pacifier Jungkook had finally been convinced would not doom her teeth for life before they’d even grown in. 

“She’s so perfect,” you sighed, an infinite refrain. “I think she’s even prettier now that we get to sleep sometimes.” Jungkook rocked you slowly and brushed his finger against Mi-Cha’s thigh, making her twitch and kick and curl closer to your chest, as if seeking protection. “Let her sleep,” you jokingly scolded.

“Ah, it’s boring when she sleeps, I think…”

“I know,” you admitted. “At least you got to see her all afternoon, I was just asleep and now she’s going to sleep.” Your low voices didn’t seem to bother your daughter at all; she was used to this, after all, being cradled by both her parents as she dozed off. Jungkook’s mother thought they were crazy to let the bedtime routine be so long and drawn out and maybe you’d regret it eventually, but right now, just holding her as she fell asleep was so perfect.

“You were up with her at four-thirty in the morning,” Jungkook pointed out. “After she was already up at one.”

“Yeah… someday when she’s all grown up, we should wake her up as much as she wakes us up.”

“She won’t think we’re as cute as we think she is,” Jungkook pointed out.

“That’s sort of the point of revenge.”

He chuckled and turned the glider slowly so you could see out the window, angled so Mi-Cha’s face stayed in the shadows. Sitting in this glider, watching the flowers erupt from their winter slumber during the early weeks home with Mi-Cha had been magical and surreal. You would never think of early spring the same way again. It would now always remind you of those early days of parenthood with Jungkook by your side. 

“I hope the flowers are still beautiful for her 100 Day celebration,” you mused. Jungkook’s parents would be back again next week and your grandparents were flying in to meet her for the very first time --later than they had hoped, after you grandfather had been too sick to travel after contracting some disease at the site of their latest sanctuary project. He’d pulled through fine but it had scared you; the party would be emotional for many reasons.

“Shhhh.”

“Huh?”

“You are stressed about it,” Jungkook observed. “I know. But it doesn’t matter. No one will notice the flowers because they will just notice Mi-Cha. And no one will care if the party isn’t perfect because it will be just because we’re together.”

“When did you get so wise?” you teased.

“I’m a father now, I’m supposed to be wise.” At your glare, he grinned, “I know you. I know you want to do things to show you care but she knows. I know. Everyone knows.”

“That’s rich coming from the man who gets her dressed for the runway just for a walk down the street,” you teased.

“She likes it,” he defended, carefully reaching around to gently pull the bow off their sleeping baby’s head so she could rest more comfortably. “I don’t like this one as much, I think it’s scratchy, but I think that’s why she likes it.”

“Do you think her ears are still dry?” you frowned, leaning in to look.

“I put the lotion on.”

“I know you did… maybe we should try an oil instead… they look good though. Maybe she just likes the bow,” you conceded. It amused you, thinking about Jungkook trying on different bows and hats and headbands for your infant daughter who couldn’t even sit up on her own. And then nodding as if she’d made her preference known. And then building an outfit around her choice. “You’re so cute, Jungkook.”

“I’m… whatever. I’m just-- it’s just whatever. I don’t mind bows, if that’s what she likes. Or whatever else she likes.”

“You’re not worried she’s going to be into fighting anymore?”

Jungkook tossed the bow over to the basket and answered, “Someday when the time is right, I’ll teach her just enough to make sure she never has to actually fight. Just enough to make someone stop if they’re bothering her. Just in case she’s like you and attracts trouble.”

“I don’t!” you defended. He grinned and kissed you breathless. “Unless you mean that you’re trouble. I sure attracted you.”

“It’s not a very good joke…”

“You’re a turd.”

“Don’t let our daughter hear that,” he playfully growled. “She has sensitive ears.”

You laughed and pressed your nose to his, your arms full of your daughter who’d melted into a warm little pile of mush when she’d fallen asleep, your heart full of love for both of these people.

“Is it as good as you dreamed after all?” you asked.

Jungkook’s furrowed brow could be felt against yours as he insisted, “You’re the dreamer, not me. I never can dream as good as things with you will be. I can’t dream good enough. Everything in our lives is… beyond.”

“Yeah,” you agreed before stealing one more kiss. “Everything in our lives is beyond.”

#jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook ff #hybrid!jungkook #seaofindigo

[illogicalpunkwrites]

What Water Gave Me

Hello everyone! This one is...interesting. I dunno, have fun! Thank you for reading and please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Pairings: Leonard McCoy x Kirk!Reader

Rating: M (18+)

Warning: Sex pollen, smut, ABO dynamics, cursing, angst

Words: 4.4K

Tags: @bloodangelballerina @theweepingvulcan91

None of you found out about it until it was too late. Visiting a new planet was always exciting, especially when it was far different from Earth. None of the biologists knew what would happen when the crew drank the water until the first person started showing symptoms. That first person was none other than

your brother and the captain, Jim Kirk. He started behaving erratically, nearly pushing over other people to make sure Carol wasn’t messed with. She started to sweat and you hurried over to pull them away from each other. While you and Jim used to rough house in your younger days, you weren’t used to him actually trying to fight you. He got a couple of hits in, some of them really hurting you before you were able to gather yourself.

“Jim!” You yelped as he swung at you again, ducking just in time. You swept your leg out from under him, sending him to the ground so some members of your security team could hurriedly incapacitate him.

“No! Let him go!” Carol sobbed.

“Get Jim to his quarters and lock him in using the override!” You barked. You made a hysterical Carol sit down in the Captain’s chair and wiped her forehead. She started squirming in the seat and you kept trying to ask her questions, but she only called for Jim. Calling him…alpha?

“Uhura, call Bones and tell him what’s going on. Tell the same thing to Science Division.” You didn’t hear a response and looked over the top of the chair. “Nyota?” She was fanning herself, looking at Spock whose knuckles were blanched white as he gripped the console. “Sulu, can you leave your station for a minute and get Spock to his quarters? He might try to fight you but he seems okay right now.” He was the right person to ask. With what information you gathered, anyone who had any sort of partner was susceptible to what was going on. Luckily, his was back on Earth.

“What do you think’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, I’ll get those two back to their quarters and call medbay-”

“Sciences to Bridge.” The console beeped in and you sighed.

“This is Commander Kirk, report.” You demanded, already overwhelmed with what little you had dealt with in such a short amount of time.

“We’ve tested some samples from the planet and found something interesting. The water contains some sort of hormone that-“

“Drives people insane?”

“It establishes A/B/O dynamics within the population.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You asked incredulously.

“Alpha, Beta, and Omega dynamics, Commander.” Spock explained, his voice strained as Sulu led him to the elevator.

“No don’t take him!” Nyota got up to head towards the elevator but you jumped over to grab the back of her dress. “No! Alpha!” The doors closed and you let her go to nearly paw at them. Her dress was soaked through with sweat and a puddle of…something was forming underneath her.

“Medbay to bridge!” Leonard’s voice came through, sounding frustrated and tired.

“Bones, it’s (Y/N)! What’s going on?”

“I’ve got people trying to kill me down here on one side of the room and people crying on the other.”

“Are they all couples?”

“Most of them, their partners came and found them. I don’t think they liked me being near ‘em”

“We need to get everyone affected in their quarters, apparently the water establishes A/B/O dynamics.”

“My god.” He groaned. Normally, you would’ve laughed but you were highly stressed.

“I’ll send a security team down there to help out. Kirk out.” You explained before switching over to the ship wide intercom. “This is Security Commander Kirk, I need all personnel that drank water from Ni-bu to go to their private quarters immediately. If you do not follow orders you will be forcibly moved by security. I repeat, leave your stations and return to your quarters immediately.” You ended the call and grabbed Nyota and Carol. You got into the elevator and pulled out your communicator. “Kirk to Sciences division, please tell me there’s a cure for this thing.”

“We’ll have to go to K-7 for that, good thing is we’re not the only ones that have dealt with this. There was another planet like the one we were at that The Pegasus had to deal with.”

“Alright, I’ll tell Chek-“ You stopped and shook your head, knowing how flirtatious the Russian was. “I’ll get back up there and set the coordinates.” Pulling your friends along was like pulling two feisty Chihuahuas: they kept pulling away from you, kept yelping for their alphas, and at one point Carol actually bit you. Once that chore was done, you sprinted back up to the bridge to put in the coordinates and called for Sulu.

“Hikaru, you alright?”

“A little scraped up but I’m fine. Security’s doing a good job down here, some of your workers are affected by it though.”

“You think you can stay down there and help them out? I’m working on getting Bridge settled down.”

“You got it, but you owe me big time.”

“Next round’s on me when we get to K-7.” You chuckled before calling out. “Alright Chekov, let’s-“

“ENGINEERING TO BRIGE!” Jaylah screeched and your blood left your body. You had nearly forgotten about engineering. A large section of them went to Ni-bu to help fix some of the infrastructure and technology.

“Jaylah, are you alright?”

“Everyone down here is going crazy! Security is here but there is not nearly enough of them! I need help!”

“Where’s Scotty?”

“He went to go find Lieutenant Mira!” You groaned and grabbed Chekov by the back of his shirt while some other people from security grabbed most of the bridge.

“I’ll be down there as soon as I can, keep doing what you’re doing!”

XXXXXX

Hours later, the whole situation was defused with everyone who was affected locked in their rooms. Those who didn’t seem affected, the Betas, roamed around the halls like dead men walking. Sanitation swept and mopped the halls where puddles of “slick” had been left. You dragged your feet and nearly your entire body ached by the amount of times you had either been rammed into, hit, or bit by your crew mates. You saw Sulu and you gave each other a congratulatory hug.

“You owe me so much more than a round of drinks. This is not in my job description.” He mumbled, making you laugh.

“Thank you so much.” While most of your team had been okay, it had dwindled down severely by the time engineering was wrangled off. Scotty surprised you with how wily he was, giving you a run for your money. Thankfully, Jaylah helped you out and you threw him into his office.

Sulu pulled away and looked up and down at you, you had some cuts here and there and were bruised up. While it wasn’t the worst your body had faced, you’d still seen better days.

“Go to Medbay, Kirk. Your job is done for now and I’m sure McCoy could see a friendly face.” You smiled weakly and made your way down. When you came to the door it didn’t slide open so you knocked instead.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me! Lemme in!” After a few beeps on the PADD, the door slid open and you hurried in before it locked back behind you. You saw Leonard at his desk with a bottle of whiskey. His shirt was torn in some places and you could see the beginnings of a black eye. “Well, Doc, you look like you had an eventful day.” He snorted in response and poured you a glass.

“Please tell me we’ll get to K-7 soon.”

“We should be there by tomorrow morning. Sulu’s gonna get some rest before so he can get us in. I think the plan is for medbay to come to us to give us the hypospray.” You explained and took a large gulp, feeling the burn go down your throat. Leonard looked at the bruise on your jaw and you shrugged.

“It was Jim, nothing I can’t handle.”

“And the bites?”

“Carol, Scotty, and some others I can’t even remember.”

“Scotty bit you?”

“I had him in a choke hold.” You couldn’t help but laugh. “The female Alphas gave me a run for my money.”

“I think I can add this to the list of reasons why I hate space.” He finished up his drink and went to go grab a med kit to sterilize the wounds. You’d have to wait a couple of days to get the scars removed.

“Because it makes people unbelievably horny?” He laughed at that one, making you smile. “I’m glad that it wasn’t a free for all though, people were focused on either their partners or the people they’ve had a crush on.”

“My god I don’t even want to imagine what it would’ve been like if it’d been a free for all.”

“But I’m surprised, Len. You struck me as an Alpha.” You joked.

“I thought you’d be an Alpha.” He retorted. “You’re the one the one that fights everything.”

“I do not! I only fight when it’s needed!”

“Which is why you’re in here so often.” You finished off the whiskey and held out your left arm where one of the bites was. “You need to be more careful.”

“Hey, I didn’t know Carol would bite me!” You replied with a smile.

“I wonder why though? No one tried to bite me.”

“I’m the hotter one of the Kirk siblings?”

“Okay, I’m with you there.”

“I have to say, I like you a little roughed up. You look like an action hero.” He chuckled and knelt on the ground in front of you, antiseptic in hand.

You felt something when he touched you, something stirring within you. You tried to shake it off but you couldn’t as it grew. As he cleaned your wounds you could feel your body temperature rising and you became incredibly uncomfortable. As you looked at him you could see him tense up with his brows furrowing even more than they usually did and his grip on you tightening. You started squirming in your seat, your inner thighs becoming coated with something as you looked at Leonard. Oh god, was that slick? Once he was done with all of the open wounds he put his kit to the side shakily. You realized, even in your foggy state, he was trying to maintain composure. Your slick dripped down to the floor, making it hard for both of you to ignore. Now you realized what you both were and why neither of you had experienced symptoms all day. He was an Alpha, and you were his Omega.

“Leonard.” You whispered, nearly whined. He looked back at you and then to the bruise on your jaw. He brought his fingers to it and pressed on it gently, making you wince.

“You’re burning up.” He stated softly, his breathing picking up and voice gravelly. “You need to leave.”

When he said that, everything in your system freaked out. You leapt on him from the chair, wrapping your arms around his neck and straddling him. He caught you with his fingers against your ribs.

“Leonard, please.” You started kissing his neck, making his fingertips dig into you. He smelled so good, like something homey and warm with a splash of whiskey,  and you couldn’t help but grind yourself against his hard cock. He let out a stuttered moan, his composure melting away as he felt your unbelievably wet pussy against him. “Alpha!” You cried softly.

That’s when it snapped away, Leonard picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him. He hurried over to his private office and you two fell onto his little cot, his lips smashing into yours. You moaned and arched your body into his, wanting as much contact as possible. His tongue slid into your mouth as you kicked your boots off and worked on his shirt.

“Off.” You whimpered. He sat back away from you and pulled down the zipper on your dress before sliding it off of you. You pulled his shirt off and pulled him back to you as he worked on the clasp of your bra.

“Such a pretty little ‘mega.” He slurred before laving his tongue down your bruised jaw, pain not even resonating with you at this point. He dropped your bra to the side, kissing and nipping down your neck and collarbone. His tongue circled around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, kneading the other one with his hand. He was rougher than you thought he would be, teething at your pebbled nipple. You wondered if he was like this all the time. You rocked your hips up against him, wanting more than just that.

“Alpha, please!” You whined, making him chuckle. His hands drifted down the sides of your body to grip the elastic of your panties and pull them down your legs. He started pressing wet kisses down your stomach as his hands spread your legs to slot himself between them. You felt his breath against your pussy and you squirmed towards him, thighs enclosing around his head.

“God, you look-“ He didn’t even finish his sentence before burying his head in between your legs, his tongue circling your clit and tasting your slick. You arched your back and wove your fingers into his hair as an unruly moan escaped you. You felt your pussy growing even wetter and he groaned against you, the vibrations sending ripples through you. He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it.

“Fuck! Alpha!” He looked up at you as you pulled his hair. “Please, need your cock, need your cock!”

You’d never begged like this before and you were sure you wouldn’t have if you weren’t in this state. He crawled back up your body and you pulled his head down to yours to kiss him, tasting yourself. Your hands shot down to his work pants and you palmed his straining cock, making him gasp into your mouth. You shakily undid the button and zipper before pulling them down and seeing his erection bob against his stomach. Your breathing got even heavier as he helped pull his pants off the rest of the way, his shoes thudding as they hit the ground. You leaned up to kiss and nip at his neck as you stroked his cock, trying to lead him to your pussy.

“Shit darlin’, Omega-“ He cut himself off with a grown and pulled your hand away, taking his cock in his hand and rubbing it against your pussy to coat it in slick. You needed more. You locked your legs around his waist and pulled him as close to you as you possibly could. “You ready, my Omega?”

“Please, Alpha.” You whispered as he kissed your forehead. Then you felt his cock enter you slowly, stretching you perfectly and making you keen against him. He breathed out loudly and slowly as he seated himself fully inside of you, your fingernails digging into his back. The both of you stayed just like that for a moment or two, foreheads against each other and breathing heavily. He leaned down to kiss you and you swore you had never felt so loved and protected. You started rocking your hips against his and he took the hint, rolling his hips back so that he was almost completely out of you before rutting back in. “Yes!”

“Feel so good, ‘mega” He slurred against you, starting a slow rhythm. But still you needed more. Your head lolled to the side, exposing your neck to him and he leaned down to suck your pulse point into his mouth. He started thrusting faster into you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you let out high pitched noises into his ear. His pubic bone rubbed against your clit deliciously and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You felt like you couldn’t even speak anymore as your pussy started tightening even more around him, making him quiver a little. He looked down at you and you brought your hands to his face and neck to caress him more as your body bounced with his thrusts.

“Close, Alpha.” You warned and he leaned down to kiss you. The coil in your lower belly tightened even more and one more perfectly angled thrust did you in, a puddle of slick soaking into the sheets as you felt tingling flood your body. You cried out into Leonard’s mouth as your entire body stiffened with the intensity of your orgasm. Leonard’s thrusts started becoming sloppy and his grip on your body tightened. As you rode your high, something in the back of your mind still wanted more.

“Cum inside me” His eyes widened before gripping your thighs to put your legs over his shoulder, leaning towards you so you were folded. You shrieked out and threw your head back at him suddenly being so unbelievably deep. His arms wrapped around you as you bit his tanned shoulder, making him gasp into your ear and his hips stuttered against yours. With one final deep thrust, you felt his hot cum coat your walls. You whimpered at your oversensitivity but finally felt satiated, almost complete in a way. His body went limp against yours but you didn’t loosen your grip, neither did he. Your fever went away and the slick seemed to have stopped, but you wanting him didn’t.

“Stay.”

XXXXXX

You knew it was early when you woke up, but you weren’t sure how much longer you had before you docked at K-7. You felt sore all over, sticky, and still beyond tired. However, your head was fairly clear and you weren’t feeling feverish. You looked behind you and saw Leonard still asleep with his arm around you. You felt your heart drop as you realized that the night before really did happen, it wasn’t some hormone ridden dream.

You’d always been attracted to Leonard, even if he was a bit neurotic (something you still adored about him). However, you wanted to respect Leonard as a friend, coworker, and best friend of Jim’s. You couldn’t imagine how Jim would feel if you and Leonard started dating. There was also always the dreaded what ifs. What if you two broke up? How would your friends and Jim deal with that? You were also in a high stakes job. What if you seriously got injured, or worse? What if he never even felt the same way?

Also, being completely overrun by foreign hormones was not how you want you two to get together anyway.

So, as you Kirks do, you decided to get out before more awkwardness could come or having to face the difficult consequences of your actions. Luckily, Leonard seemed to be a heavy sleeper but you could feel a fever beginning to creep on you again as his arm tried to tighten on you. You felt your heart ache as even the non-Omega part of you wanted to stay. But if you did, what happened wouldn’t be just between the two of you. Someone would walk in and know what had happened. You didn’t even bother putting on your underwear or shoes, just your red dress before unlocking the doors with his PADD and sneaking back to your quarters to lock yourself in. You were breathing harshly, the fever hitting you pretty hard, and you slid down your door to the ground.

“Computer, air conditioning at full capacity.” The fans whirred around you as you tried not to think of Leonard.

XXXXXX

Leonard woke up with a groan and stretched against his cot. He felt around his bed for you, but shot up when he didn’t find you. He looked around the room and saw that your underwear and boots were still in his room. He kind of wanted to laugh, thinking about how you probably bolted out of there. He thought you were probably embarrassed about the whole thing. A nagging part of his brain said it was probably because you regretted it entirely. He had always liked you, but for the sake of Jim he kept it more friendly and professional. Perhaps it was best to just forget about it. Better that than a repeat of another failed relationship.

“Dr. McCoy? This is Nurse Chapel from the K-7 research lab. We’re here to give you the hypospray.” He hurriedly put on his clothes and kicked your things under the cot before letting the nurse in.

XXXXXX

A couple of days later, you hurried to the bridge to return some reports of the events to Jim. You had avoided medbay like the plague and unbeknownst to you, a couple of friends took notice. As you handed the PADD to Jim, he looked at your healing jaw and cringed once again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, asshole, you say it every time you see me.” You chided playfully. He looked at the rest of the scars left on your body from the others and raised an eyebrow at you.

“You can probably get those taken care of, y’know?”

“I know, I just haven’t found the time with writing this shit up.” You replied and he chuckled, waving you away. You smoothed out your skirt and went to the elevator, but Sulu slid in before the doors closed.

“Oh hey! What’s up?”

“What’s up with you? You always get your scars fixed up and Uhura knows for a fact that you’ve had enough time.”

“Are you two gossiping behind my back?” You replied and he crossed his arms at his chest. “Maybe I want to keep the scars.”

“You want to keep scars in the shape of bite marks?” He replied flatly and you shrugged. The doors opened again and He grabbed your arm. “That’s it, I’m taking you to medbay.”

“No!” You panicked and pulled away from him.

“What in the world’s going on?” He asked incredulously, and you looked around. “Did something happen the day we went to Ni-bu?” You opened your mouth but quickly shut it.

“I’ll tell you what happened, just not here.”

“C’mon!” He pulled you into a nearby closet and locked the door behind him. You paced what little you could in the space and he sighed. “Would you just tell me?”

“I thought I was okay. I didn’t have any of the symptoms so I thought I was a Beta. After everything settled down I went to medbay like you told me to get my cuts cleaned up.” Sulu quickly put two and two together, especially after days of suspicion.

“You weren’t a Beta and neither was he.” You shook your head. “And, lemme guess, you left in the morning?”

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You nearly whispered. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did. Kirk, you gotta fix this. You have to talk to him. You can’t avoid medbay forever.”

“I can try.”

“Kirk.”

“I know you’re right! I just don’t know what to do.” He wrapped an arm around you and you leaned into him.

“Just go in there.”

XXXXXX

Leonard was reading from his PADD in his quarters when he heard a knock on the door. He put it down on his bedside table before letting it open and saw you. His black eye was healing nicely, but he winced when he widened them in surprise.

“Uh, hey.” You started, already wanting to punch yourself.

“Hey.”

Fuck, this was awkward.

“Can I come in?” He stood to the side and you stepped in, the door closing behind you.

“If you’re here for your clothes and boots there under my cot in my office.”

Ouch.

“Thanks but that’s not why I’m here.” You stood there, trying to keep from fidgeting. “I wanted to talk about what happened, and before you say anything I know I shoulda stayed. I wanted to stay but-“ You broke off and sat down in his arm chair. You felt like if you kept standing then you’d pass out.

“But what? I’ve been wonderin’ why you didn’t stay, myself.” He said and you nodded.

“And I shouldn’t have done that to you.” You looked down at your clasped hands and tried to swallow the nervousness radiating in your body. “Leonard, I’ve always liked you. I’ve always been attracted to you.” You didn’t see the surprised look that crossed his face. “But I was always afraid of what would happen. I mean, you know me and Jim: we’re both terrified of relationships and I know that you’re wary of them after how things went in your marriage. I’ve always wanted to respect that.” You didn’t realize you had started to ramble. “And Jim is another thing! That ass is always so protective over me and you’re his best friend! That’s a conundrum just for him! Does he kick your ass or lock me in my cabin or both?! Not to mention we’re in space and it’s probably one of the most dangerous places ever!” You finally looked at him and saw him chuckling, hiding his face behind his hand. “Why the hell are you laughing? I’m pouring my heart out here!”

“Because you sound like me, dammit!” He smiled and you stared at him incredulously. “Go on, finish up. I gotta talk some time.” You shook your head at him and stood up.

“Fine, you want me to finish? I didn’t want to wake up and hear you talk about how it was a mistake because just thinking about that fucking kills me. I wanted it to happen, maybe not like that but I wanted…something like that to happen. There, I’m done.” You stood there and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. “Well you said you had to talk.” You looked back up at him expectantly and his eyes had softened, he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I didn’t know you felt that way and...as much as I didn’t think that this is the way things would happen, I don’t regret that it did. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long but everything’s complicated. But I wanna give it a shot because I can’t imagine not being with you.” Tears welled in your eyes at his confession and you threw yourself at him, taking in his warmth.

“I want to be with you, Len.” 

“As long as you promise you won’t run away again, darlin’.” You smiled up at him and kissed him softly.

“I promise…Alpha.” He stiffened against you and you laughed. He smiled and captured your lips in his, holding you tightly against him. “You think you could get rid of my scars first?” You squealed as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him.

You two would just have to deal with everything else later.

#leonard mccoy x reader #Leonard McCoy #star trek #Star Trek Fanfiction #star trek aos #star trek TOS

[rubykgrant]

(Y’all want a tiny sample of Grif and Simmons being all domestic for the first time once they start to actually be boyfriends? Sure you do~)

“I should have just done what I always do and changed into something else before coming back here… and YOU should have taken all your armor off in one place. Now you’ll have to carry those pieces back with you when you have to wear it again,” Simmons teased him as he started to take off his undersuit.

“Dammit, you’re right… but I REALLY wanted to get back here first, and you change so fast!” Grif told him. He undid the little clasps so the armor fell off him, bit by bit, section by section, then kicked it under his bed.

“Pff, WHY?”

“Oh, I was gonna wait for you on your bed with a rose in my teeth, and-”

“You were NOT!”

“Yeah, no, I wasn’t…” Grif admitted. Now that they were both changing and talking casually, he felt himself relax. “My actual plan was to get under my covers and pretend to be asleep, then jump up and surprise you,”

“You probably would have fallen asleep for REAL if you did that, and then what?”

He heard Simmons chuckle, and Grif glanced over in that direction. Simmons had already gotten his sweatpants on, and was now pulling on a t-shirt. Grif had almost the same sweatpants, but his were bigger and more worn-out (Simmons’ were still a dark black, while Grif’s were faded to a dingy gray… showing a few stains from where he had once spilled some chili in his lap). Grif pulled a tank-top from his clean-clothes-pile, slipping it over his head, unable to stop looking at Simmons. Sensing Grif was watching him, Simmons looked over and smiled at him. Grif smiled back, and he didn’t have to look away, or pretend he was just spacing-out, or make some joke, or insult Simmons as a distraction; this was his boyfriend now. He could look at him. Actually, he could do a lot more.

Grif walked back to him, and Simmons opened his arms to embrace Grif. For a moment they stood like that, holding each other, feeling the way they both breathed in and out.

“If I DID fall asleep before you got back… you could just, y’know, come over and… get into bed with me,” Grif told him, pressing his face into the crook of Simmons’ neck (this was quickly becoming his favorite place to nuzzle; he could feel Simmons’ pulse, the muscles twitch when Simmons swallowed or talked, and it was so warm right here).

“Yeah?” Simmons asked.

“Yeah… not like it’s the first time we’ve ever slept together. Now we can actually cuddle, though. Um, we could just go do that… right now… if you want,” Grif didn’t want to sound too much like he just wanted to sleep… true, that was one of his favorite things to do, and he was tired from racing through the ship, but his actual motivations revolved around being able to keep holding Simmons as long as possible.

“Well, I don’t know… your bed is all the way over THERE. That’s WAY too far. My bed is right HERE, though. How about we just crash at my place?” Simmons laughed at his own lame joke before letting go of Grif, leaning over so he could pull back the blankets. “You get in and get comfy, I’m gonna go get something…”

Grif hopped into the small bed; they would pretty much have to sleep right on top of each other… Grif felt overwhelmed by several different emotions. One, his natural laziness was indignant over the running incident, and now very content to simply pass-out. Two, he was incredibly endeared by the fact that Simmons was not only willing but looking forward to sharing a bed with him (and even appealing to his laziness by offering the closer bed). Three, he was just ever-so-slightly aroused… because Simmons was being far too cute, and all this casual intimacy was deceptively hot. Four, he was still a bit awkward and unsure about what to do, because he didn’t want this to somehow go wrong, he wanted this to be GOOD, he wanted them both to be happy together (and whole thing about being in the closet on Chorus was in the back of his mind. That had been too fast and too blurry… whatever they did next, Grif wanted it to be slower and sweeter).

The laziness and the awkwardness were drowning out the arousal, but the endearment was making up for it all; Grif was happy to do this, sleep and snuggle with Simmons. Maybe they could do this every night…

Simmons returned, sitting down on the side of the bed. He had a few small objects in his hands.

“Here, disposable tooth-brushes. They have this coating of tooth paste, so they get foamy while you use them. Oh, and see? I’ve got a bottle of water right there on the nightstand. Here’s a little paper cup you can spit in to rinse when you’re done,” Simmons explained as he handed Grif one of the tiny tooth-brushes.

“Haha, dude, seriously? I was just gonna skip it tonight…”

“NO, you need to brush every night, Grif! Ugh, how can you sleep with plaque on your teeth? I can’t stand it,” Simmons shook his head in mock-disdain. “And I have more of these, too… I know you don’t have your own tooth-brush here,”

Grif had to smile at that; Simmons was still sore about all the times Grif had used his tooth-brush in the past, but clearly not genuinely mad. Grif did as he was told, grateful at least that Simmons had brought all this to him instead of making Grif get up and walk outside to one of the bathrooms in the hall (no personal bathrooms on this ship… not even for important space heroes). Once they were both finished, Simmons threw the used tooth-brushes and cup away. Finally, he turned off the light, and slipped into the bed with Grif.

“You good, dude?” Grif asked as he settled.

“Yeah… you’re even softer than the bed, so this works out just fine for me!” Simmons had practically draped himself over Grif. “What about you, OK?”

“I am way beyond OK…” Grif sighed, enjoying that was once again able to press his face into Simmons’ neck. Oh yeah, he was great… this was perfect…

“Oh, I just remembered something I wanted to tell you!” Simmons said. “I figured out how to access the satellite signals for this place without disrupting any of the important information messages,”

“Mmm… yes, that sounds very impressive… good nerd, smart nerd…” Grif patted his head.

“That means I can get us Spaceflicks on my helmet,”  

“Oh, what? For real?” that got his attention.

“Yep. We can do a movie marathon when we both have the time. Now, say it like you MEAN it!” Simmons smiled smugly in the dark.

“Good nerd, smart nerd!” Grif repeated with more emphasis, running his hands through Simmons’ hair. “Clever nerd, cute nerd, funny nerd, sweet nerd, MY nerd…”

Simmons damn near purred at all the praise.

#writing #red vs blue #dexter grif #dick simmons #grimmons

[purplelurkinghini]

Narcissus by the Pond

0. PROLOGUE 

Under the cut is the prologue to yet another multi-chapter mess I am planning to write. What is different about this one is the narrator: Edward Nygma himself. Another aspect of this piece that sets it apart from the rest of my writing is its epistolary form. That’s right, baby! First-person POV!

If you’ve seen >> this << post floating around, this is indeed me actually putting that second prompt to use. 

Enjoy!

Dear ▚▛▙▙

I found a cat toy while cleaning out my closet today. It was that ashy plush mouse stuffed with dried nepeta cataria which you spent money on instead of saving up for your student loans. If he were still here, he’d be rolling around on the floor in some vivid dream in which he was a lion and it was a gazelle. And, if you were still here, I would’ve asked you to stay.

The day you got that tabby’s claws into me was the day you checked into work late. Frank, our project manager and your internship supervisor, had to drop his showman act and instill in you the fear all WayneTech employees are motivated by. After you offered your excuses and exchanged glances with the floor, you were free to enter the kitchen to heat up the coffees that you went out of your way to fetch for us each morning.  

My daily routine, which you’ve played no small role in forming during your short stay with us, was disrupted by the absence of caffeine in my bloodstream. I remember my Rubik’s cube and how I crammed a corner into my palm, squeezing down on the still unscrambled sides. I would call it an ‘absentminded’ action, but we both know that would be an incorrect assessment. My mind is never not present, even as it wanders. For this reason, when you finally came out of the kitchen, I couldn’t not wonder what happened to your sweatshirt. It must’ve been soaked in rainwater, I concluded, and that was the reason you removed it. Or, rather, that was the excuse you used as you removed it. After all, your sneakers were soggy, but you couldn't exactly walk barefoot all over a corporate. Even so, there you were, in a far too small t-shirt which was too tight around your torso and too short to cover your stomach, walking around the office with your brewed bribes. 

“Here you go, Jim” you placed the foam cup right in front of his face to get him to notice you. I’d argue that that slip of skin that was eye level to him was enough to get that scatterbrain's attention. He must’ve made a joke, or attempted to, because you laughed louder than anyone should around him. 

“Cory,” you sauntered over to him. “I asked the barista for two tablespoons and a half this time.” Sure, he might’ve taken his glasses off before taste-testing it, but his lenses were fogged-up before the lid came off. You felt the most confidence around Cory, the least confident one in our team. While no line of code was too complex for him, women were a mystery he had yet to solve. You see, I haven’t failed to notice you making the most physical contact with him, brushing your hand against his as a means of disarming him. 

After he served you a stuttered smile, you moved on to Paul who was pretending to be preoccupied with his screen. He’d been watching you since you walked out of the kitchen, yet still acted surprised when you showed up next to him. You didn’t mean to disturb him, of course, so you tip-toed around his desk, silently setting the cup on a coaster. He thanked you without taking his eyes off of his work, but took the time to watch you walk away as soon as you turned away from him. 

"I'm sorry, Ed," you pouted as you placed the coffee on top of a stack of papers. "I know like to have your coffee before 8, but the storm hit while I was in the shop and the whole street took cover in there-"

"Slow down," I released the Rubik’s cube, flexing my fingers. "I'm not your supervisor. It’s not my forgiveness you need."

"Well, no, but I actually want your forgiveness," you covered your mouth in a coquettish display. "I mean-"

“Like I said,” I brush off the blush creeping up on my cheeks. "There's no use for that." Fetching the foam cup, I take a sip of the scolding beverage and brave through it. “There's no use to ask the barista to write our full names either. This calligraphy exercise cost you a scolding from Frank.”

“Actually,” you pulled the hem of your shirt down which only uncovered more of your cleavage instead of hiding your stomach. “I wrote your name myself.”

I stroked the surface of the cup right across the script. Again, I can’t call this action ‘absentminded’ either, but my mind had wandered off again. That lovely lettering was yours and so was the green marker, so you must’ve scavenged your backpack for it on a crowded morning train. You also must’ve taken your time steadying your hand for each stroke, each dot. E. Nygma. You also must’ve cleaned up the cup as it inevitably spilled and steadied your tongue for each stroke, each lick. Maybe you ever sampled the coffee yourself, the taste of cherry Chapstick staining the rim.

“Well,” you interrupted my intrusive thoughts. “Jim’s showing me the new user interface, so-”

“Of course,” I dismissed you and my daydreams.

“Talk to you later.”

Yes, that was the day the cat got his claws into me. It was after I’d drained the drink, and found myself restless still, that I made my way into the kitchen for another one. That is when I spotted you in the corner, cradling the sweatshirt you discarded earlier. At the sound of my steps, you straightened your back, but you didn’t turn your torso towards me. 

“Hey, Ed,” you smiled and it was a painful sight because I couldn’t ignore the panic I ignited in your eyes. “Lunchtime already?”

“What are you doing?”

“Umm, trying to dry my shirt?”

The closer I got, the more gregarious you grew. You asked about what I’d like to eat, what the guys would like to eat, if I’d like to order out. You didn’t stop until I asked it of you. 

“What are you hiding from me?”

Before you could bellow out something long enough to cover the sound, I heard it.

“Did your hoodie just meow?”

It was only then that you turned, facing me fully. “Please don’t tell Frank, but this is the reason I was running late.” Two pairs of eyes were pleading with me. One belonged to you and they were begging. The other belonged to an orange ball of fur and they were unblinking. 

You were holding a bottle cap filled with water up to its meowing maw, so you must’ve been attempting to keep the animal hydrated, even after rescuing it from the streets in the middle of a storm. You bought kitten kibbles on your way to WayneTech and that had eaten ten minutes of your time and cost you a scolding from Frank.

“I couldn’t just leave Eddie to drown in a ditch somewhere.”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah,” you let it sink its little teeth into your skin as it held a single finger close with two whole paws. They feel like needles, I should know, but you carried on cooing the pincushion. “He reminds me of another green-eyed ginger. Maybe you know him.”

Yes, you remember now, don’t you? That was the moment Eddie sunk his claws into me, and I do mean it literally. He released your finger only to get his paws trapped into my button-up. I also mean it figuratively, as I swore to keep your secret the very next second. And, once you were by my side, shadowing me as I was coding like you wanted to since your first day of internship, you made me swear to keep him. How could I not? Your dorm had a ‘no pets’ policy and you had named him after me. 

The two of us had time to get acquainted after you left for your evening classes. I fed him the kibbles and was careful not to get caught. And, because I wouldn't be using it that day anyway, I replaced your sweatshirt with my gym towel. While it smelled like a sad, soaked kitten, whatever fruity fragrance you were using had yet to fade from the fabric. That evening I drove straight home as soon as I left WayneTech, skipping my daily workout. My daily routine, as I’ve mentioned, had been modified by you. 

“We don't even need to potty train him,” you giggled when you saw Eddie digging through the brand new litter box I had ordered. It had been waiting for me by the front entrance along with the delivery guy and yourself.

You got into a cab before even texting me, asking for an address only after the driver started the clock. I expected that stupid stunt from the likes of Jim, not you. 

“He's a clever boy,” I smiled when I saw you were still wearing the green button-up shirt I asked you to exchange that shrunken t-shirt of yours with. “Like his namesake.”

You kneeled before the kitten and produced the plush mouse I'd only seen Eddie play with once. “Did the shampoo arrive? He should be high enough to not scratch our eyes out now.”

After rolling around on the rug with a bag full of catnip, he seemed blissed out enough for a bath. And, after only scratching you twice as you held him for me to scrub his ginger fur ever so gently, we got him all dried and drained. Those green eyes were barely opened as he looked up at us from the cat bed he was supposed to grow into and the sweatshirt he had grown fond of. 

“Now we know he hates all water,” you said through gritted teeth as I sanitized your shaking hands. Your fingers were as fidgety as Cory's, yet I doubt his skin was ever that soft. “Not just the rain.”

“I bet he'd hate flees more,” I caressed your knuckles after bandaging the bloody bits.

“I hate the rain, too,” your eyes were downcast, much like earlier that morning, seemingly searching my sheets for something. “I never knew Frank could be so-”

“Terrifying?”

“Mean,” your giggle wasn't as gleeful as I'd grown used to. “I thought he was going to fire me right then and there.”

“He wouldn't,” I squeezed down on the shadows of your hands as they were snatched away from me. Then, I leaned in close and almost brushed your love with my lips as they moved: “He will let the anxiety that comes with that uncertainty eat you alive first.”

“See, now you're being mean,” you laughed, finally looking up at me. 

“Me? Never,” I said, satisfied with myself. You were laughing - actually laughing - because of me. 

When the dryer dinged, I was confident in leaving you in my bedroom with a smile on your face. After all, I was the one who brought you in there and I was the one who brought that out of you. Once I've collected your clothes, I returned to find you had already removed my button-up and was drying up the rest of your skin with one of my towels. You were turned only half the way, so you must've perceived me in your periphery. Paul pulled the same thing earlier today. Still, you sounded surprised as you covered the side of your breasts I bet you wanted me to see. 

"Forgive me,” I turned around, but, unlike you, I did it all the way. “Here you are,” I stretched my arm behind me to hand you the bra and t-shirt. 

“Thank you.” It was only after your bomber jacket was zipped to your chin that I dared to look at you directly. Your sweatshirt was Eddie's now, so you covered up with what you had. “For everything.”

“Let me drive you to your dorm.”

"You've already done enough," you pulled out your phone as I walked you to the door. “I'll just call another cab. Eddie needs you here. You need to wear him out, or he'll wear you out tonight.”

“Cats are crepuscular creatures,” I assure you. “Not nocturnal. I'm sure he'll fall asleep before I even turn in for the night.”

Yes, I was sure he'd fall. However, Eddie was so convinced. And, sure enough, there he was, meowing in my face at midnight. 

My mistake was letting him get his claws into me. You see, I couldn't bear waking that little bastard up. Not when he looked so small in the middle of your sweatshirt, in the middle of his bed. He finally had a dry place to dream in and I couldn't take that away from him, so I let him sink his claws into me that much deeper. 

And yours, as well.

After chasing him with my hand atop of my covers and letting him swat at the finger-spider, he was ready for bed. My bed. Yes, his green eyes were drooping when he surrendered to sleep. It just so happened that he did it on the left side of my bed. And I, not willing to risk another rude awakening, placed him atop of the pillow. Then, ever so silently, I slipped out of bed and into the bathroom. It was on my way back that I stumbled upon it: your sweatshirt. 

I recall calling it off the floor and taking it with me to bed. For Eddie, of course. He loved that sweatshirt, as I'm sure you know. However, as I placed it on his pillow, I caught a whiff of it. It smelled like rainwater, pet shampoo, Eddie, and you. It was your sweat and deodorant, sweet and soapy, just as I had smelled it on my shirt before tossing it in the laundry basket and I couldn't smell it on the left side of my bed. 

As I closed my eyes, I saw you. You were walking around the office, their wandering eyes watching you. You pass my desk and I am drenched in your scent. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Your sweatshirt is drenched, so you discard it. Your t-shirt is too tight, so I can see the dip of your belly button and the swell of your breasts. Though I am convinced you had a bra to cover them, my mind wanders. It wanders about the color of your nipples and it paints a picture of them peeking through the flimsy fabric. 

And, as my mind wanders further, that flimsy fabric is pulled down, your hands wriggling at the hem of it. That's when those peeks pop out along with the rest. All of a sudden, you're soaking. Sweet. Soapy. You even try to hide this from me, crossing your arms over your chest. I capture your hands, soft skin, and fidgeting fingers, and wrestle with them. Oh, how easily you surrendered to me, sighing in defeat. I lock your arms behind your back with one hand and squeeze your tit like a stress toy. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I had to taste it. 

When my tongue touched the tip, you pushed against it, filling my mouth with your flesh. You wanted this. That nipple is as sharp as a needle, but it melts in the heat of my mouth. You wanted this. After your tit is slick with my saliva and the peak is all puffy, I gather the other one in my grip and repeat. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

You wanted this and you told me as much. You said it loud enough for the others to hear. You wanted this. You wanted me. And, as if I haven't done enough, as if I haven't given you enough, I gave you all of me. Clearing the desk, cube, keypad, computer, and all, I slam you atop the surface. I had to pull down your pants for you, but your legs part all on their own. As for your panties, well, they all but dissolved under the duress. You attempt to hide from me again, tightening your thighs together. And, again, you surrender to me all too easily. After all, you want me. Your pussy? As I parted your legs and pushed your knees up to your chest, I saw how much she wanted me. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking.

However, I was not in a hurry. No matter how hot were your insides and how cold the chills were down my spine, I still took my sweet, soapy, soaking time. I set myself loose, my length slapping against your ass once it sprang free. You shivered, your back arching like a bow and your hands treading through your tangled hair. You wanted me. I took my time, sandwiching my shaft between your pussy lips, sliding across the slick and even wearing your labia as a hood atop its head for a maddening moment. It was only when you began begging, mewling to be mated that I gave myself to you. I crammed my cock inside of your cunt and went in so deep, I felt your heartbeat as your inner walls collapsed around me. 

Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. I fucked you into a fever, your skin as slick as your insides and your mouth leaking as much saliva as your pussy was spilling precum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. Soon, it would've been spilling cum. Sweet. Soapy. Soaking. When I did come, however, it was in my fist and not between your lips. 

As I opened my eyes, you disappeared. There was nothing there to greet me but the strike of the street lights slashing the darkness across the ceiling. Your sweetness had been replaced with my saltiness. It was indeed soapy and soaking, but it wasn’t you. Then, for the second time that night, I slipped out of bed and snuck into the bathroom.

The day you got cat’s claws into my shirt was the day you sunk your own under my skin. After that day, we shared a secret. I never told Frank about Eddie, but Eddie never told you about what I did in the dark. His glowing green eyes didn’t judge me, but they never let me forget. After you left without a notice, ginning up your internship, changing your phone number and never surrendering your real name, I couldn’t face them anymore. His eyes never let me forget, so I rehomed him.

I found your Gotham U sweatshirt while cleaning out my closet today. The name you gave WayneTech is nowhere to be found in their student records. Your name can’t be found in any police records either. Your real name, however, I am sure will uncover quite the mystery.

Yours,

E. NYGMA 

#Edward Nygma #Riddler #Edward Nygma x Reader #Riddler x Reader #It is Not Safe For Work #Riddler x You #Edward Nygma x You

[angryhausfrau-writes]

Still Living With Your Ghost

Hawkeye shows up on BJ's front porch one year, two months, three days, and seven hours after the Korean war ends. And he looks - Jesus, he looks rough. Tired and pale and wearing army boots and his blue Hawaiian shirt. He looks like a ghost.

BJ can't not invite him in, even though it's the middle of the night and Hawkeye can't really seem to explain what he's doing in California beyond something about wanting to see palm trees. So BJ gets him tucked into bed in his and Peg's unused guest room – still mostly empty even though the house has been finished for a while now. But it doesn't appear to matter much to Hawkeye, he passes out pretty much the minute his head hits the pillow.

BJ wakes up the next morning, sure that all of this had been a particularly vivid dream. But there Hawkeye sits, in BJ's living room, flipping and flipping and flipping through the television channels at whatever ungodly hour Erin has decided is morning.

BJ rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning, Hawk. Sleep well?”

“Morning, BJ.” Hawkeye springs up from the sofa, like he used to spring out of his army cot. Like he's just been sitting there, waiting for BJ to wake up so he can drag him into whatever mischief he's dreamed up.

But this isn't Korea. BJ doesn't play those kind of pranks anymore.

And it doesn't look like Hawkeye is going to answer BJ's question. So BJ just works on getting the coffee percolating and making sure Erin doesn't throw cream of wheat all over the kitchen.

Peg drifts out of their bedroom a little later, takes a piece of toast from the table, kisses BJ on the cheek, collects Erin out of her high chair, and breezes out the door. Off to meet with a client, probably. Which means that BJ's stuck staring at a fidgeting Hawkeye from across the table, silence stretching awkward and molasses thick between them.

“So, uh, how you been, Hawk?” BJ thumbs at a chip in the Formica of the table top.

“Oh, you know. Busy. Doctoring.” Hawkeye is looking wildly around the kitchen and he hasn't touched any of the food on his plate. “Looks like you've really been living the high life here, Beej. Look at this place! Nice, real nice, BJ. You're a lucky guy.”

“Yeah, yeah I sure am.”

“And you're still a surgeon? Working at a hospital and everything?” Hawkeye's now looking intently at a point just slightly to the left of BJ's eyes, expression fixed in something that could be described as a smile, maybe.

“Yep. Nothing as exciting as Korea, though. I took out a gallstone two days ago, and that's been the highlight of my week.”

Hawkeye laughs, too loud and too sharp. And he's back to looking wildly around the kitchen, peering into the living room, rocking sideways in his chair far enough to almost overbalance. “That's nice. Not exciting is nice. Boring. Quiet.”

“Yep.”

Hawkeye is now tearing his paper napkin to little shreds that he's sprinkling over his eggs like snow.

“Look, Hawk. Not that it's not great to see you and all. But what are you doing here?”

Hawkeye goes back to staring at the point just slightly to the side of BJ's face. “Oh, you know. Thought I'd drop in on my good buddy. And see some sun, some sandy beaches – you're a little lacking on both fronts here, Beej. I confess myself disappointed. This isn't the California all those travel brochures promised me. Swimsuits and suntans. Palm trees.” Hawkeye waves his arms wide, gaze rocketing around the kitchen. “Where are they, BJ? Where are the palm trees?”

BJ laughs. “You're a little far north for that kind of thing. We mostly have rain and fog.”

Hawkeye nods. Grimaces. “I hate the rain. We spent years and years and years in the rain. Or the snow. So many years.” Hawkeye's staring again. “You know how cold it gets in northern Maine? I want. I wanted some sun, you know? A change of scenery.”

“Well, since you're in California already, you could drive south, you know. It's a ways, but you could go find a beach and some palm trees, like you said.”

Privately, BJ thinks a little sun would do Hawkeye a world of good. He's looking even paler than usual. Wan. Tired. Like he hasn't been sleeping.

“Yeah? You think so?” And Hawkeye looks up at BJ with such hope in his eyes. It's blinding. Terrifying.

So that's how BJ finds himself in the family station wagon with Hawkeye lounging practically sideways on the front seat, staring out the rainy window at San Francisco as they head south on Route 5 towards warmer climes.

“You know, I've never been to San Francisco,” Hawkeye says conversationally. They're driving through down town, and the tall edifices bear down on them like giants. Hawkeye has to keep his neck craned up, up, up to get even a glimpse of the gunmetal sky. “I've been to San Diego. Spent a whole weekend there when I was in med school. But I never quite made it to San Francisco, somehow. Surprising, I know...” Hawkeye trails off with a vague gesture.

“It's a nice city,” BJ says, inanely. But he's not quite sure what's happening here. And small talk is about all that's left to him.

Hawkeye smiles, sharp as a knife. And there's something lurking there behind his eyes that BJ can't identify. “I'm sure it is.”

They drive in silence for a while.

Suddenly, Hawkeye's head snaps down and to a street that runs towards the bay. “What's down there, Beej?” He asks it almost desperately.

“Uh, the docks I think.”

Hawkeye nods. Tips his head towards the ocean like he's listening to something far away. His eyes skitter over the dashboard desperate and wild.

“Lotta kids shipped out of those docks the last two wars,” Hawkeye says, apropos of nothing that BJ can understand. “Lotta kids who never got to come back home.”

“Uh, yeah. Though I guess they were hard up enough for doctors that they sent me over on a plane instead.”

Hawkeye nods distractedly, knee jostling against the passenger door. He's staring out the window again.

“Hey, Beej, pull over will ya? I really need a drink.” He gestures at a bar that BJ probably wouldn't have even noticed if Hawkeye hadn't pointed it out. BJ pulls over. He could use a drink himself. He'd forgotten how – how strange and alluring and difficult Hawkeye could be.

The bar is dead this time of day. Empty except for a few older men who look like they've probably been sitting on those same bar stools for the past decade or so.

Sitting at a shadowed corner table with a bottle of bottom shelf gin and BJ can almost believe he's back in the Swamp. That no time at all has passed since Korea. Hawkeye is certainly drinking like that's true. It's almost nice, the nostalgia that's carried on gin fumes.

And Hawkeye has calmed down a little as he sits there, no longer looking like he's going to crawl out of his skin. In fact, he looks almost wistful as BJ chatters on about Peg and Erin and his life in Mill Valley. Though what part of all that it is he longs for, BJ doesn't know. He'd never expressed much interest in marriage or kids before. But maybe he's finally looking to settle down.

BJ muses on the impossibility of a settled Hawkeye while the real one heads off to the bathroom. The bar has filled up in the intervening hours and it's hard for BJ to keep track of his skinny frame and dark hair, even as tall as he is. Though Hawkeye's usual slouch has gotten even more pronounced than it was in Korea and that doesn't help matters any.

BJ wonders what exactly happened to him to change him so much. To wear Hawkeye down like he's been.

But before he can think too long on it – before he can become maudlin – Hawkeye's back at their table and putting a wad of crumpled bills down on the scarred surface. Clearly a sign that he's ready to leave.

They troop a little unsteadily out to the car.

“So, how'd you find our fair city?” BJ asks as they pull out into rush hour traffic. The had really slipped away from him in the warm dark of the bar. He'd had no idea it was so late.

“Well, I can now say I've sampled all of the bountiful pleasures that San Francisco has to offer.” Hawkeye grins bright and sharp even through the alcohol. “So what's say we blow this joint and go find some nice sandy beach somewhere? Preferably a nude one.”

BJ grins at him and turns onto the highway.

They drive past rocky coastlines and pine covered mountains. BJ thinks Hawkeye falls asleep about an hour or so in, his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window, eyes closed and face marginally more peaceful. But it's hard to tell.

At some point, though, Hawkeye jerks upright, looking around frantically, as if trying to figure out where he is.

Where they are is the vast empty farmland west of Mendota. Hawkeye spends a few miles staring out at the fields as they blur past the window. BJ leaves him to it.

In all honesty, BJ is starting to wonder if this was the best idea. Hawkeye seems scattered and distracted and manic like he was at the end of the war. Like he'd been after the bus and before he'd been committed.

Maybe BJ should have kept him in San Francisco. Called Sidney. Gotten Hawkeye some help instead of driving hundreds of miles to some unknown destination for some unknown agenda.

But they've already come this far. It would be dumb to turn around now.

“Did you know,” Hawkeye says in a voice that can barely be heard above the radio and the incessant thrum of the tires on asphalt. He clears his throat and tries again. “Did you know that during the Great Depression they used to gather all the unsold fruit and pour gasoline on it so that the starving people fleeing the Dust Bowl couldn't eat it?”

Hawkeye's staring intently at the side of BJ's face, more than wide awake. And maybe BJ spoke too soon.

“Uh, no. I had no idea.”

Hawkeye goes back to looking out the window. “I always thought that would be a terrible way to go,” he whispers so quietly, BJ isn't even sure he's talking to him.

A few miles later, they hit a town big enough to have a diner. Hawkeye's still quiet and staring, and it's past seven anyway. They may as well stop and get some dinner. Hawk hasn't really eaten anything but a handful of pretzels all day.

They both order cups of coffee and BJ watches Hawkeye add something out of a hip flask into his mug. Hawkeye obviously catches BJ looking and waggles the flask in his direction, offering. BJ holds out his own cup. This is feeling... This is feeling a little too close to Korea, all of a sudden, even though they're smack dab in the middle of California. And the liquor burns harsh and familiar down BJ's throat.

He coughs. “You make this yourself, Hawk?”

Hawkeye grins. “A guy's gotta have a hobby. And most of mine dried up after the war.”

BJ assumes he's referring to chasing nurses. He sure spent enough time at it – even if he was never all that successful.

Before BJ can get too far into asking Hawkeye about his triumphs or trials in the pursuit of the fairer sex – always sure to elicit an amusing (or steamy) anecdote – the waitress returns to take their order.

Hawkeye gets a hamburger and french fries. BJ orders a chicken sandwich and Hawkeye flinches so he orders a hamburger instead. And when the food gets there, Hawkeye devours his meal ravenously while BJ chats about Erin's recent trials with attending daycare since Peg is out of the house some days for her real estate career.

Hawkeye's obviously not one for conversation tonight, so BJ just keeps talking about his wife and his life and his beautiful, perfect, wonderful daughter. And Hawkeye sits in the booth, leg jittering against the tabletop and he tears his napkin into shreds and lets them snow down onto his empty plate. And when the waitress stops by again to top up their coffees, Hawkeye drinks about half the cup all in one go and then refills it with moonshine.

He's so alike and unlike the Hawkeye from Korea. The Hawkeye BJ knows more intimately than pretty much anyone other than his wife. And BJ can catch glimpses of that man in Hawkeye's gestures or his terrible honking laugh. But in a lot of ways he's a complete stranger. And it's difficult to sit there in the diner – in the real world – with this man that's half myth and half ghost and from a part of BJ's life that he'd honestly rather forget.

It's almost a relief to settle up and get back in the car. Hawkeye isn't asleep, BJ doesn't think. But he is quiet and still and content to just stare out the window into the empty dark.

In the car, in the dark, nothing is real. It's not like the harsh light of the diner where he can see Hawkeye. Here, BJ can pretend that nothing about what's happening is strange. He can pretend everything is normal.

But eventually it gets late enough that he's got to stop driving or he's going to fall asleep at the wheel and run them both into a ditch. BJ pulls into the first motel he comes across. And it's shabby and rundown, but a far sight better than a tent in Korea, which is where he half expects to collapse tonight, stuck as he is between past and present, waking and dreaming.

The only problem is that there's only the one bed.

BJ offers to sleep on the floor. But Hawkeye says he's being stupid and that it's not like they haven't slept together before. Which, that's stretching the truth a little. But BJ doesn't really want to sleep on the floor.

So that's how he finds himself laying in bed with Hawkeye - who's obviously still awake, BJ can see the gleam of his eyes in the dark – and feeling intensely awkward about it. It's a double bed, but they're both tall. BJ could probably fill up the bed all on his own. It's difficult to keep from touching Hawkeye - especially because if this were him and Peg, BJ would be spooning his wife, curling around her back, holding her in his arms. And BJ hasn't really slept with anyone other than her for a long time. Which is why he has to fight himself not to do the same with Hawkeye. A Hawkeye who's whispering a soft goodnight into the darkness between them.

BJ turns to face away from him and tries to go to sleep.

He wakes up to Hawkeye sitting bolt upright in bed, tears streaming down his face, absolutely dead silent as he cries.

BJ reaches a tentative hand out, lays it whisper light on Hawkeye's shoulder. “You ok, Hawk?”

Hawkeye turns his unseeing eyes to BJ, tear tracks gleaming in the moonlight filtering through the motel curtains. Blinks a few times, as if he's surprised to find BJ really there. Reaches out with a trembling hand to brush the tips of his fingers butterfly gentle against BJ's cheek.

“Beej?”

“Yeah, Hawk. I'm here.”

Hawkeye crumples forward into BJ's chest. And BJ holds him in his arms. Feels the silent sobs that wrack his skinny back.

“I dreamed that this was all a dream,” Hawkeye whispers into the join of BJ's neck. “That I'd lost you and I couldn't find you – no matter how much I looked and looked and looked.”

BJ gathers Hawkeye closer. “I'm right here, Hawkeye. And I'm not going anywhere.”

Hawkeye pulls away from BJ's arms. Looks up at him – and he looks, he looks sad and understanding and gentle. “Everyone leaves sometime, Beej. I won't hold it against you.”

And then Hawkeye's getting out of bed to go take a shower.

BJ feels strangely bereft without Hawkeye in his arms, so he busies himself getting ready to leave. It's still disgustingly early – the eastern sky just barely starting to turn pink – but it's not far to Los Angeles now. And BJ doesn't really want to spend any more time in this dingy, claustrophobic hotel room than he has to.

When they descend into Santa Monica, Hawkeye perks up from where he'd been sitting listless in the passenger seat. He practically has his head sticking out the window like Waggles does, staring out at the silvery gleam of sunlight on the ocean. Practically vibrating in his seat at the knowledge that they're getting close to the sandy beaches his heart desires.

BJ exits off of Route 5 and takes them through the wide boulevards and down to the beach.

Hawkeye grabs his arm on the steering wheel. “Look, Beej! Palm trees!”

“Yeah, Hawk. Just as advertised.” BJ smiles at Hawkeye fondly. His excitement is infectious. Buoying.

So different from his mood just a few hours earlier.

When they get to the actual beach, BJ has barely parked the car before Hawkeye's flinging himself out of it and down onto the sand. A cacophony of seagulls spirals into the sky, squawking at being disturbed by a six-foot plus lunatic sprinting towards the water.

BJ watches, amused and perplexed as Hawkeye starts throwing his clothes off with wild abandon, stripping until he's down to his skivvies, barely halting his headlong scramble towards the water. And he switches to genuine incredulity when the now mostly naked Hawkeye flings himself into the surf, struggling out past the breakers, until he's genuinely swimming in the marginally calmer water of the Pacific Ocean.

“Jesus Christ, Hawk,” BJ calls out to him from the beach. “Come back up here, you loon. You're going to get hypothermia.”

Hawkeye grins back at BJ as he floats serenely on his back, waves bobbing him gently up and down, hiding and revealing him from BJ's view. “Good thing I know a doctor then, huh Beej?”

But Hawkeye does eventually emerge from the water, shaking himself kind of dry – and splashing freezing water all over BJ's shirt. He's smiling big and genuine, and BJ thinks this whole trip was worth it just for this moment. Just to see Hawkeye look happy and unburdened and mischievous like he used to look. Like he looks in all of BJ's best memories of Korea.

BJ thinks he could stand to stick around Santa Monica a while longer. So they get Hawkeye dried off and bundled up in dry clothes and they head for a little cafe just off the beach so they can eat breakfast. By which BJ means he eats breakfast and Hawkeye drinks five cups of coffee and steals one piece of BJ's toast. But it's an improvement on yesterday morning.

And then they bum around the waterfront, stopping in at the little tourist traps, showing each other dumb knickknacks. Hawkeye discovers an especially hideous Hawaiian shirt at one of the stores - and almost talks BJ into buying it before common sense (and the thought of Peg's reaction) prevail. Hawkeye pouts, but grudgingly admits that a shirt covered in scantily clad hula girls might not be the best thing to bring home to one's wife. Though it's not like he knows what wives do or don't like, Beej, honestly. And BJ supposes that's true enough.

Eventually, it gets to be late enough in the day that other, far more sane people start gathering on the beach to swim or sunbathe or whatever. And Hawkeye takes this as his cue to drag BJ back to the sun and sand and palm trees he's so obsessed with. BJ goes willingly enough, truth be told – Hawkeye's led him far more terrible places than the Santa Monica public beach.

And it's nice to laze around in the sunshine with Hawkeye reading next to him, shaded by the parasol he'd brought along in his ratty army duffel. Honestly, BJ's heartened by the fact that Hawkeye planned this trip out well enough to bring things like swim trunks and sun block and a truly terrible pair of Groucho glasses instead of sunglasses. It makes all of this feel more like a prank and less like Hawkeye's unraveling again.

It makes BJ almost happy to remember all the trouble they used to get up to. Makes him able to tell stories back and forth with Hawkeye, able to quibble about the details when one of them insists the other had been responsible for whatever part of their prank had gone wrong. Hell, they even reminisce about Charles, and that's someone BJ had been more than happy to never think about again.

Anyway, it's all really nice. A nice vacation from the real world.

But that's all it is. All it can ever be. Because he's got a wife and a kid and a life waiting back for him in San Francisco. And Hawkeye's probably got a half dozen girls waiting by the phone for him to call.

“C'mon, Hawk.” BJ claps his hands brusquely and stands. “We should probably start heading home if we want to get in by dinner time.”

Hawkeye looks up at him from behind those stupid, stupid glasses. And it's hard to tell, but he might just look as conflicted about leaving as BJ feels.

“Yeah, ok, Beej.” Hawkeye stands and brushes sand off of his trunks. Starts putting away his beach towel and umbrella. Knocks against BJ's shoulder, a friendly little nudge. “This sure was fun while it lasted, though. Kinda wish we could've stayed here forever.”

BJ nudges him back. Gets him moving in the direction of the car. “You can always come back again.”

Hawkeye smiles sadly. “It wouldn't be the same.”

And then they pile into the car to head back to San Francisco. Hawkeye stares out the window again, curled up against the passenger door. Obviously not feeling like talking any more. So BJ just concentrates on navigating the way home.

The drive goes much faster this time, probably because they don't stop anywhere. And because BJ's a little lost in thought. Seeing Hawkeye again has brought up a lot of memories he'd done his best to bury when he went home to Peg and Erin and real life. The station wagon's bench seats feel full of ghosts.

None more haunting than Hawkeye Pierce – famed in song and story – a half buried memory of the worst parts of BJ's life. And currently curled up in the front seat of BJ's car like the remnant of a terrible, wonderful dream. So he's got a lot to think about.

It's no wonder BJ startles when Hawkeye brings a gentle hand to his shoulder. They're home. And they've apparently been sitting in the driveway for a while if Hawkeye's teasing, “Nice of you to join us, Beej,” is any indication.

“Sorry, Hawk. Lost in thought.”

“Well, don't hurt yourself.” Hawkeye smiles bright and warm. Like the sun.

And then they're both turning sideways to face one another. Hawkeye's hand is still on BJ's shoulder, light but so, so heavy.

And then Hawkeye kisses him. Sweet and chaste and far too brief.

And BJ wants to cry at how right it feels. How much of a culmination of their entire tumultuous friendship it feels.

At how much it feels like goodbye.

“C'mon, Beej. Let's get you home.”

Hawkeye claps BJ with the hand on his shoulder, brusque and friendly. And Peg's standing on the front porch, waiting for him. And Hawkeye's got a Greyhound ticket back to Maine in his pocket.

They leave the car and head into the house.

#mash #hunnihawk #this isn't particularly happy #hawkeye has some serious issues #and bj's repressed #sort of unrequited feelings #kinda a road trip fic if you squint

[shirophantomvox]

A Night on the Town- Hisoka x Illumi (Hisoillu)

What’s up y’all? Per an anon request, here is a Hisoillu story. Hisoka and Illumi go to dinner at a fancy restaurant to talk about a business contract when a single phrase or word causes them to change the subject. This story will see how they stand on their relationship. Are they only meant to be “friends” or more than? “A night on the town” is a British phrase that simply means someone going to a club or hanging out all night long. Boujee is an abbreviation of the French "bourgeois." A critical term used to describe people, things, and places that are definitively high-class. I am going to try my best to keep this in character. They feel comfortable to joke around each other only. I use places like Earth, Mars, and the US because I assume Yorknew is another name for New York. Yes, I mentioned some Voltron elements too. I love crossovers! Enjoy! Feel free to inbox me. FYI, there’s nothing wrong with eating chicken fingers as an adult. I hate steak and haven’t eaten it in over 15 years. Onto the story!

Rain fell from the sky hard as ever. The sound of the raindrops hitting multiple surfaces sounded like quarters hitting metal. Thunder clapped what seemed like every 60 seconds followed by an alarming amount of lightning. The white and red LED lights lit up the sidewalk in front, casting heavenly shadows on just about everyone that made their way in. “La Lune” is a 5 star restaurant located in the heart of Yorknew City. Tons of celebrities have had dinner there! Madonna, Rihanna, Beyonce, and so many more had taken funny photos with the chef and his wife, creating a memorable moment for everyone involved. Many take the atmosphere of this restaurant as something romantic. The lights were dimmed and the tables were lit by candle light. It seemed like everyone was being serenaded by their lover, except for these two of course. Their occasion was something far from being romantic. Both gentlemen agreed to talk about a mission that would require both of their efforts because if one did not agree, the other would parish. This mission drove them mad. Hisoka lost a few days of sleep just thinking about it!

You see, one of the country’s best space explorers has been running rampant through the streets. These students attended the Galaxy Garrison, a space college and were launched into space. While trying to bring back samples from Kerberos, they were attacked by aliens (known as the Galra), kept in another dimension, and once they returned they began to inflict pain on Earthlings just like how the Galra did to them. These students must have been experimented on because they possessed power that no Nen user could defeat.

Both gentlemen walked to the hostess desk and waited for their attention. Hisoka’s hair was covering part of his eyes. Many people found him attractive; so attractive that people would nudge him on the arm and mimic a “call me” motion with their fingers. What was it about him that people would just swoon over? Illumi stood behind Hisoka with his hands in his pants pocket, impatiently waiting to be seated. You can’t discuss aliens and brats on an empty stomach.

“How may I help you?’” The hostess smiled big as she cupped her hands waiting for his response. Her teeth were pearly white, almost appearing to be fake. But one thing was off about this woman. She stared mighty hard at his face and continued to smile. She seemed robotic. A smile appeared on his face as well; he swore she was undressing him with her eyes.

“Reservation for Gittarackur~♠?” Hisoka nearly said Illumi’s name instead.

“Right this way.”

She led them through a series of staircases and made her way to the rooftop. This building wasn’t too tall, but it was high enough. The roof was decorated with red table umbrellas, glass tables, candles, and hanging LED lights.

This is a little too romantic, Illumi. What gives?

She handed them the menu and walked away. Illumi looked to his right and left to ensure no one was close enough to hear what he was going to say. But before he could say anything, Hisoka opened his mouth and began to make unnecessary comments that got under Illumi’s skin.

“You tend to pick the restaurants with a noticeable romantic atmosphere. Care to tell~♥.?”

Illumi pressed his lips together.

“I do not pay attention to the atmosphere. I pay attention to good ratings and decent prices.”

“Oh! So, you’re a cheap date~♠!”

“This isn’t a date, Hisoka. We are talking about a mission that if it gets out of control, the whole human race will cease to exist as we know it.”

A waitress came over, introduced herself, and offered them a bottle of wine.

Did you plan this, Illumi?

Of course they accepted! Rosé was Hisoka’s go-to. The wine mellowed him out, made him more relaxed and bearable. He placed his thin fingers and sharp nails around the wide-mouth glass and sipped his drink. He smiled as Illumi disclosed more details of the mission.

“What are you saying, Illumi? I’m afraid I do not understand~♠.”

“Listen carefully. These groups of young adults have been experimented on by the Galra. Since their return, they've been stealing, beating, and even killing innocent people. Their excuse for this is by saying that “those people were bad people” based on rumors they’ve heard. They’re a menace to society, not to mention extremely dangerous. For the first time in 22 years, I’m a little worried.”

The waitress came back to take their order. Hisoka had never tried a streak before, so that is what he ordered. Illumi, the picky eater on the other hand, ordered an adult size of chicken fingers and fries. Hisoka gave him the shittiest look of the century. He placed his large hand over his face as he humiliatingly closed his eyes. Illumi squinted trying to ignore Hisoka’s stupid reactions.

“What’s the matter?”

“You embarrass me, Illumi~♠.”

“How?! What did I do?”

“We’re at a nice, romantic restaurant and all you order is chicken fingers, fries, and ranch?! Ma’am could you give us a moment~♠?”

“Absolutely.” Poor girl. Why did she have to witness that?

“What’s your problem, Hisoka?”

“You could have at least ordered the steak, salad, or both! Look around you! You’re going to be the laughing stock of this town! Try strawberry vinaigrette~♠!”

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Boujee! Chicken fingers are delicious and anyone can order them! Why would I order salad when I have lettuce at home?”

“Because it’s good for you~♠!”

“Salad doesn’t fill me up and neither does strawberry vinaigrette!”

They began to talk about the mission again. Illumi hid his fear behind his resting bitch face, but he didn’t know if he truly wanted to go through with this mission or not.

“I’m feeling cautious.”

“What for? I’m sure you can handle it~♣.”

“I can’t. I don't even think my grandfather can beat them.”

“Why so?” Hisoka drank from his glass again. Illumi did not disclose much info because he knew how Hisoka becomes when he’s tipsy. He begins to laugh and talk too much.

“They have an ability that can wipe out a Nen user within seconds.”

“Oh~♥?”

“Yes. They can disappear in the blink of an eye, they have this purple electricity shooting from their hands, and these specific men I see with gray masks that remind me of a plague doctor. They have no faces and they’re purple. Once that electricity hits you, it’s game over. They have the ability to determine if it's fatal or not.”

“Ouch. What’s the plan~♣?”

“Someone that I used to know will infiltrate the base that they’re hiding in. It will be difficult because they guard it but that is when my needles will come in handy.”

“But you didn’t have to cut me off…~♣” Hisoka sang.

“What? What was that, that you did just then?” Illumi was serious. This was no time to be joking around.

“What? I just finished what you started~♣.”

“What did I start?”

“You said ‘someone that I used to know’ and I responded ‘but you didn’t have to cut me off’. Don’t tell me you’re not aware of that song~♣.”

Hisoka smiled something softer than usual and laughed at Illumi’s clueless look. This was something he adored about him; the carelessness made him laugh so hard that he forgot about his troubles...if he had any.

“I understand why you brought me here to talk about stopping the Galra, but let’s enjoy this moment. Just you and I~♥.”

“Why? They are dangerous. They could be planning on destroying us as we speak.”

“You worry too much. Besides, everyone knows of your talent and even if they seem more powerful, I’m sure they’re keeping their distance from you.”

“I thought you’d be overjoyed at this opportunity. You can finally put those chrome cards to play.”

“Who said I wasn’t? I am but I’ve learned to hide my arousal rather well~♥.”

“You didn’t hide it well just a few seconds ago.”

“Touché’. But I was not talking about fighting then, I was talking about you~♥.”

“Hmm.” Illumi didn’t know what to say but one thing is for sure. Many, many feelings and thoughts clouded his mind and body but he didn’t know how to respond to them. He has known Hisoka for some time now and he knew of his ways; if he would just tell him how he felt, he might be surprised by his reaction. Hisoka has flirted and with him several times but for some reason he felt like if he responded he may not get a desired response.

Hisoka began to chuckle, more of a tipsy chuckle. He couldn’t hold back his laughter as he noticed how Illumi’s attitude began to change. Illumi immediately placed his wine glass on the table and squinted in confusion.

“What’s so funny, now?” He sounded a bit irritated but deep inside he was happy he asked.

“You’re blushing~♥.”

“What?”

Damn.

Was it that noticeable?

Sure was.

“I’m good! I never thought that I could make the oldest son of the Zoldyck family blush from my passes. That’s an achievement for me. So tell me Illu, do you dream about me too~♥?”

“Be quiet, would you?”

The magician couldn’t help but to release a hearty laugh so loud that people began to glance in their direction. Illumi frowned and crouched low towards the table.

“Stop it. People are staring.”

“What? I love it when people stare. That means I look good~♥.”

Hisoka continued to laugh. To add to Illumi’s social demise, he stood up from his chair, took a photo on his phone and captioned it: “Best date ever♦”.

“Don’t send that!”

“Oops. Sorry not sorry,” Hisoka gloated covering his mouth. “Guess you’ll have to catch me~♥.”

He continued to laugh but his laughter slowly began to come to a halt and wired down. Now he laid his head on the table, slightly drooling. Illumi decided that he had enough excitement for the night, so he threw three pins in his right leg, which was conveniently under the table. Hisoka had hinted earlier that he would be fine if Illumi ever made that decision. Following behind him for his entire life would be to die for. Illumi smiled as he looked at the man before him, finally silent.

“This might actually work,” he whispered to himself.

The moonlight casted a shadow on him as he admired the star on the sleeping magician’s face.

#hisoillu #hisoka x illumi #hisoka morrow #illumi zoldyck #hunter x reader #hunter x meme #hunter x hunter #hunter x 2011 #hunter x 1999 #date night #anime #hisoka #illumi #hxh #chrollo #feitan #somebody that i used to know #but you didn't have to cut me off #tiktok #my writing #fancy #romantic #fluff #hxh illumi #illumi x reader #illumi x y/n #hisoka fluff #hisoka hunter x hunter #hisoka morrow x reader #chicken fingers

[hex6rcist]

I would like to second your sentiment about the confession bit for Kenpachi's fluff alphabet needing it's own fic~ it's so cute 💞💞💞 Consider it requested in whatever capacity you'd like to write it! The thought of Ukitake and Shunsui helping him parse out his feelings is so delightful!

Wow this was super fun to write but it got pretty long so I threw in a read more. I hope you like it! I used fem pronouns because I noticed that's your preference. I hope that's okay.

Kenpachi Love Confession

She was feisty that one. It was exactly why she’d caught his eye. It was rare to find firecrackers like y/n in the 2nd division. Sui-Feng expected her inferiors to be the pinnacle of grace and restraint. That’s what brought her around to the 11th so frequently. For a short amount of time Kenpachi had considered trying to snake her away from the 2nd and bring her under his command. However he scrapped the idea. He wanted something more than a captain/subordinate dynamic. It would feel a bit creepy to him his he got her to join his division and then tried to pursue her. So he let himself be happy with her just hanging around for training sessions.

Watching y/n take down his men was a thrill to him. But it couldn’t compare to the feeling of when they went toe to toe. She fought like she was dancing, lithe and graceful, no doubt due to her training under Sui-Feng. It was in staggering opposition to his own brash fighting style. She’d cavort out of the way of his blade with a gleeful laugh that lit his skin on fire. She always threw him off his game just a little. Kenpachi was pretty sure she’d landed more hits on him than any of his men ever had. Every little graze she left on his body he’d admire later. Firm, large fingers would trace over the feint scar as he laid in bed. Sometimes he’d find his eyes drifting shut and in a brief moment he’d imagine it was y/n’s fingers insteaed. Kenpachi’s eyes snapped open and he stared up at the ceiling. He was hit pretty hard and he knew it. The feared Kenpachi Zaraki fawning over a beautiful girl. It was almost laughable. He had to do something about this.

He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to pull this off. He’s not a big romantic gestures kind of guy. But would y/n even want that? Would she even want him? Sure he was muscular and tough but was he... Attractive? Kenpachi had never even considered the thought. His life in the Rukongai was harsh, leaving was no time for courting or romance. as embarrassing as it was he was kind of inexperienced in this matter. That’s when he finally got an idea. Though he’d really have to swallow his pride on this one. This was how he found himself sitting on Shunsui Kyoraku’s veranda next to Jushiro Ukitake.

The two men sipped on their tea while Kenpachi looked down at his with mild distaste. He still took small samples from his cup as to not be rude. He had learned some manners after all and he was here for help. Jushrio’s smile was genuine and soft, he was pleasantly surprised by Kenpachi’s request for advice. Shunsui however had a big shit eating grin. “So y/n huh?” He chuckled softly. “She is something.” Jushiro odded in agreement, “A lovely young lady.” “Very lovely.” Shunsui swooned playfully. Kenpachi was beginning to worry he might of made a mistake, but before he can back out Jushiro fixed him with a serious look. “We’re more than happy to help you out in this matter and we’re glad you came to us for advice.” “You know I think This is a conversation that calls for sake.” Shunsui stood up and moved to retrieve a bottle. Finally one of them was speaking his language. Kepachi set his tea aside. “So Kenpachi, did you have any ideas on how to approach y/n with your feelings?” The large man pinched the bridge of his nose. _‘Don’t be rude. They’re trying to help.’ _“Can’t say I do. I’m not even sure how she’d react. I’m not the most,” he cleared his throat “eligible guy around.” Shunsui returned with 2 cups of sake and some more tea for Jushiro. “Nonsense, don’t be hard on yourself. Y/n Isn’t the average lady who’d be intimidated by you. She’s tough and already comfortable around you. I don’t think you have to worry about intimidating her.” He handed a cup to Kenpachi and he gladly accepted it, drinking deeply. “I guess that’s true...” Jushiro held up a finger, signaling that he’d thought of an idea. “The Sakura Festival is coming up next week, perhaps you can invite y/n to come with you. It’s a relaxed event so you won’t feel uncomfortable and y/n won’t think anything of you asking her to go because everyone attends.” Shunsui hummed mulling over his friend’s suggestion. “That might be a little too, uh, what’s the word...” “Flowery.” Kenpachi interjected. The 1st Division captain nodded in agreement. “Yeah, flowery.” A small silence fell amongst the men as they pondered other options. “Well what do you and y/n usually do in the time you spent together?” Shunsui inquired. “Fight. Drink. Talk.” The men nodded. “Talk about what exactly?” Jushiro chimed in. “Stuff...” The elder captains sighed in unison. He wasn’t making this easy was he? Kenpachi took another long drink to gather up the nerve to elaborate. He really wasn’t too good with this whole sharing his feelings thing. But if he wanted to pursue a relationship he had to get used to it. “We swap stories... Some about her time in academy or my time in Rukongai**.” **They were finally getting somewhere. “Well then maybe that’s what you should do then.” The Sotaicho smiled at Kenpachi. “It might not be the most romantic thing in the world but it would be the most genuine.” He held up his cup of sake. “A nice drink and when  you’re sharing stories just tell her how you feel.” Jushiro nodded in agreement a smile blooming on his face as well. It sounded simple enough. Kenpachi downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “Just tell her huh? Yeah. I can do that.”

The next day when Kenpachi woke up late into the afternoon and his head was pounding. He’d stayed at Shusui’s well into the night going drink for drink with him. He ran a large hand down his face before dressing and emerging from his quarters. He could already hear a ruckus going on in the direction of the training grounds. Walking out onto the engawa he saw y/n was already here. She was covers in a thin sheen of sweat, her shihakusho clung to her body and her jewel like eyes shoe with glee as her opponent fell. She gestured for him to be removed from her sight before her predatory gaze latched onto the 11th Division’s groggy captain. With the crook of her finger he was summoned before her to fight. The hairs on his neck were already standing on end. He really was a slave to her beck and call and he had a suspicion that she maybe knew.

Dusk had come before either of them knew it. They often lost track of time while locked in combat. Too caught up in the thrill of it all. By now the cool wind had dried the sweat on their skin leaving them cold and uncomfortable. Most of the division gave up on getting their training in and went about business as usual. Y/n and Kenpachi’s Zanpakuto were locked together in a stalemate. Their eyes burned into each other. Finally he used the last of his strength to push and y/n fell. She laughed giddily and stared up at the darkened sky, trying to catch her breath. The captain entered her line of sight and offered a hand to pull her to her feet. She gladly accepted and bowed to the winner who in turn bowed back. “You know you’re better than most of my men right?” She let out a loud laugh. “I’ve noticed.”

The two had settled on the engawa side by side. Kenpachi had brought out a bottle of sake to share. Y/n was leaning back on her banged up elbows, one knee bent and the other hanging lazily off the edge of the platform. Even caked in dirt and blood she was beautiful. Scratch that it was when she was the most beautiful. He handed her off a choko full of alcohol and she drank from it greedily. His eyes lingered on her neck, watching as she swallowed. He licked his lips and tore his gaze away. The night was moving far faster then Kenpachi would have liked. His Division was slowly falling quiet and soon it felt like they were the only two still up in the whole Seireitei. At some point she’d gotten cold and inched closer to his side. He could feel her warmth through his clothing and he was sure she could feel his as well. They talked, and laughed, and drank like they would any other night. Only Kenpachi knew this one would be different.  

“Y/n, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Clear eyes turned to look up at the captain but he couldn’t meet her gaze. “What have we been doing?.” He shook his head, eyes fixed in the sky above them. “About something specific.”  It was time to rip the bandaid off. He knew the worst she could say was no, but it was going to sting more than the slice of her blade. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” He peeked over to see her cheeks had flushed a light pink. He figured that had to be a good sign. Right? They finally locked eyes. “And what do you think of me?” She leaned in involuntarily. Here goes nothing. “That I like you... A lot.” He wanted to punch himself. Kenpachi felt like a child with a schoolyard crush saying it like that. He really should have- His train of thought was derailed by a quiet chuckle. Y/n got up on her knees and leaned into him. “I like you too.” A little smirk crossed her lips. She was going to say more but her words were cut off. A large hand had found the back of her head and pulled y/n into a deep kiss that made her head spin. Her hands clutched onto the front of his haori and his hands slowly found their way down to her hips, pulling the smaller girl into his lap. His kiss was full of passion and longing that she’d never known before. It made her let out a tiny moan. The sound shot a bolt of lightning though his whole body. When they parted they were both gasping for air. She licked her lips and smirked softly. “A lot.”  

#kenpachi zaraki #kenpachi #kenpachi x reader #bleach imagines #bleach scenarios

[wherethewordsare]

Fire Lizards and Flirting

I wrote some self indulgent fluffy nonsense cause i’ve had a shit week. This was supposed to be a drabble... tell me how I ended up with over 1400 words. 

I just wanted Geralt to do science... enjoy?

------

Geralt preferred the field work to the lab work. He hated sitting there, plugging numbers into the sheets, having to answer emails, and dealing with the office supervisors. So when the chance to do the ecological survey along a particular stretch of the Appalachian came up, he moved heaven and earth, and four reams worth of documents to get the assignment. 

He and Roach had pulled into the empty lot at the head of the trail, early that morning. Roach gave a soft “boof” as she knew what came next. 

“I know, I know. I’m moving as fast as I can.” Two giant paws pressed against his shoulder followed by another boof as Roach’s whole body seemed to vibrate. “You don’t think I’m excited too, huh?” Geralt rolled his eyes as he climbed out of his truck, moving just in time as Roach leapt the center console and bounded out the door. 

Geralt let the huge dog make her little circles around the truck, her whole back end wagging as she did. This. This was exactly why he preferred field work to being in the lab. He answered to no one but an overly affectionate great dane. 

The trail was easy enough, sloping down towards the river with lazy winding cut backs. He made note of the small rivulets that cut down the side of the hill and stopped a few times to check out the rot in logs, taking samples when he remembered to. He was nearly to the river, the sound of water over rocks steadily growing louder when he realized that it wasn’t the only sound. 

He called Roach to him, having her walk closer as they made their way down to the bank. Geralt had seen some pretty strange things in his years of ecological study, but the man standing in the center of the river with what Geralt would bet good money on was a lute, strumming softly was something he still wasn’t sure he was seeing. 

Roach saw him too though. Giving an excited bark, she took off, splashing into the water. The man that had been standing on a smooth rock turned quickly in surprise; too quickly. Geralt watched as he lost his footing, tumbling down into the water, Roach bounding after him happily.

“Shit, fuck, damn, fuck! ROACH!” Geralt was dropping his pack and peeling out of his over shirt as he ran in after the dog and the man who had fallen. He was sitting up now, the water shallow in this stretch,  pushing a soaking mop of hair out of his eyes, spluttering as Roach attempted to climb into his lap. 

“No no no… Oh no, I am so sorry. She is… harmless! But… very… Roach, down! Very friendly. Far too friendly.” Geralt tried to wrestle the dog away from the sopping musician who, in the struggle, slipped back into the water, coming up coughing.

Not coughing. Laughing. Hard, his head tilted back as he looked up at Geralt, striking blue eyes blinking away river water. “Sir… I believe you’ve lost control of your horse.” 

“Uh.. great dane, but close enough.” 

On cue, Roach gave a happy boof and sat on the rock that she had just knocked the man from. 

“Proud of yourself, are you?” Geralt grumbled affectionately. “Please excuse her. She was raised by wolves.” He offered down a hand and tried not to get completely lost in those eyes. 

The man took his hand and let himself be pulled up from the water, giving his head a shake. “That’s okay. No better cure for the blues than a lap horse in the middle of nowhere followed by a tall handsome stranger.” He flashed Geralt a smile that was competing with the sun to be the brightest thing lighting up the riverbed. “Did you call her Roach?” The man tilted his head as he shook water from his lute. 

“It’s a fish.” Geralt said flatly, scowling. 

“Jaskier.” The man, Jaskier, held out his hand chuckling softly. “That sweet girl is an absolute queen and you named her after a fish.” Jaskier was having a go at him but there wasn’t anything unkind about it. 

Taking his hand, Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Geralt. Well, she swims much better than some musicians I’ve seen. I think it’s apt.” He had to bite the inside of his lap to stop from grinning wide at Jaskier’s overly dramatic noises of shock. 

“I will have you know, I am a fine swimmer when I haven’t been snuck up on.” Jaskier puffed his chest up but the effect was immediately ruined when his teeth began to chatter. 

“Shit. Let’s get you dry.” 

Geralt helped Jaskier to shore, carrying his lute and reaching into his backpack for the absorbent towel he always carried for when Roach got into water. She would have to drip dry this time. There was a stretch of open grass along the bank and Geralt decided it was as good as any place to stop for lunch. 

“Why are you out in the middle of a river with an actual lute? I haven’t seen one of these since college.” He handed the towel and the lute to Jaskier who began to work the towel over the soundboard with practiced fingers. 

“Well if you must know,” he seemed to wince. “Getting over a bit of heartbreak.” Geralt’s face must have done something because Jaskier just shook his head, huffing. “Oh nothing like that. There was a competition and I was robbed, is all.” He scowled at nothing in particular before giving a put upon sigh. “Honestly, there is no accounting for tastes these days.”

Geralt bit down on the inside of his lip again, looking away to hide the amused raise of his eyebrows. “Well from what I heard before Roach took you out, you sounded great.” He looked down just in time to see the dark tail retreat under a flat rock by their feet. “Would you care to meet a Desmognathus ochrophaeus?” he reached down, one hand cupped as the other lifted the rock. 

“I… bless you?” Jaskier tilted his head, confused. 

“Or the Allegheny Mountain dusky salamander. It’s why I’m out here.” Geralt gave him a small smile as he opened his hand, revealing a sleek little body with beady little eyes. “I’m surveying indicator species in the area and picking up some water samples.” he held up the wriggling salamander gently between his fingers, turning it this way and that as he checked for signs of sickness while holding it up for Jaskier to see. 

As he held it up, it turned its head, biting down onto Geralt’s thumb. “Ah, shit.” Geralt laughed as he pulled a notebook out. “Got a fighter on our hands. That’s a good sign too.” He knew he was doing that thing Eskel was always getting on him about with the critters. Roach laid out next to him, her tail thumping heavily on the ground as she huffed. 

Jaskier was looking at him with his head tilted and his eyes soft. “And why is that?” Geralt was used to people mocking him for his enthusiasm for this job. There were very few things he found himself able to really talk about admittedly. But there was nothing but curiosity and a fondness that had Geralt suddenly a little self conscience. 

“Well most of these are common as crickets,” Geralt indicated the salamander with a tilt of his hand before releasing him back into the grass, “so they’re usually easy to find if you know where to look and if they’re healthy, then the river usually is too.” 

“So you just walk around the woods all day with your horse-dog, cooing at fire-lizards and knocking poor unexpecting gentlemen into rivers. For science?” Ah there was the teasing. Geralt found he didn’t mind it terribly.

“Amphibians. I’m not sure why they’re called fire-lizards. They’re neither made of fire nor are they lizards.” Geralt went digging into his pack, fishing out a couple of apples. He turned to find Jaskier pulling his shirt over his head and he nearly dropped them on the ground. 

There was something about the line of his shoulder that made Geralt want to throw himself into the river. 

“They sleep in logs.” Jaskier said, wringing out his shirt. He gave a small shiver and tilted himself so the sun fell across his back. 

“I… what?” Geralt knew he sounded distracted. He was distracted. 

“Back in the days before central heating, in the winter people would bring in firewood. The salamanders would be asleep in them and wake up from their winter naps to find their little hiding places on fire. What would you do?” Jaskier laid his shirt over the log between them, reaching down to tug off his sneakers. “So all they would see were these little lizards appearing from the flames and running around. It just kind of stuck, I guess.” He was twisting his socks up when he looked over at Geralt. “What?”

“I… who are you again? I find you, in the middle of nowhere, there’s no other car in the parking lot, in the river, with a lute…” In the back of his mind, Geralt remembered the old stories about Fae his father would tell him and his brothers. 

“Well, if you must know,” Jaskier turned to him fully, smiling. “My mother, and only my mother calls me Julian. My friends call me Jaskier, and my students call me Mr. Pankratz.” He squinted up the path that Geralt had come from and hummed. “You took A lot. There’s a second parking lot from over there,” he pointed down the bank on the other end to where Geralt could see the start of a cleared path. So, promise, not a witch or ghost or what have you.” The teasing was back and it went along with the kind of smile Geralt could get used to. 

Fuck. Might as well…

“And… What do your dates usually call you?” he was busying himself with rummaging for a water bottle. 

Jaskier laughed, his grin growing wide. “Why don’t you ask me and find out.”

@jaskierswolf @artistsfuneral @thetinymm

#geraskier #modern au #self indulgent fluff #meet cute #ecologist geralt #teacher jaskier #honestly yall idk #geralt of rivia #jaskier #roach is a big ass dog in this one #the witcher

[jlalafics]

“Lesson Learned”-Part 3 of 4

Yes, we’re almost to the end.

Also, we’re about to have some major changes in this next section.

It’s a little squicky on some subjects but nothing I don’t think you can’t handle.

Thank you if you’re still reading! Enjoy!

Summary: Sometimes Katniss asks too much of Peeta. This time she’s gone too far. College Everlark. Katniss and Peeta POV’s. Rated M.

Previous Parts:

Part One

Part Two

_______

Those words coming out of her mouth are like a shot of electricity.

Her stare is bold, though I do see a sliver of uncertainty.

“It’s not that difficult,” I tell her. “Your hand…my hand…orally…vaginally…I assure you that it will get hard.”

She meets my eyes, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. “Which one do you like?”

Blowjob!—my cock practically screams at me.

This isn’t about me, however. This is about her.

“What would you like to try?”

“Uh…hand, I guess,” Katniss tells me.

I nod and take her hand. “Should we do this in your room?”

She doesn’t reply; instead, she pulls me along to the open door of her bedroom and we walk in.

Katniss’ bedroom is softly lit by two tall paper lanterns that sit on each of her side tables. Her walls are painted a soft white except for the sage green accent wall behind her bed. Her bedding is a grey and white pattern with light green throw pillows.

She leads me over to the bed shyly. “Is it easier if you lay down?”

“I mean, that’s how I usually do it,” I offer, and she snorts. “Just trying to be honest.”

“Honest and gross are two different things,” Katniss informs me. “So…hop on that bed and let’s get to it.”

“Setting the mood, aren’t we?”

I sit on the bed and lay back as she follows, scooting next to me before going to her knees. We’ve laid on this bed millions of times to watch movies or listen to music. I’ve even slept here when I was too drunk to make it to my apartment. However, it is awkward to be here completely exposed as she kneels besides me and examines every inch of my skin.

“I don’t know what to do,” she finally tells me. “You have to guide me.”

I nod, taking her hand and bringing it to my cock.

“This is a penis.” Katniss rolls her eyes and I chuckle, covering her hand with my mine. “There are different parts.” I guide her hand along my length which has stiffen at the warmth of her touch. “This is the shaft. Most of the stimulation is along it—”

“Tell me more, professor,” she jokes though there is a distinct purr which cause a frisson of heat to travel through me.

My dick is definitely hard now.

“So you’re going to stroke…” I move her hand along with mine in a slow rub, letting her get a feel for the rhythm. Fuck, this feels amazing! My hips begin to move along with her caress. “Do you think you have the hang of it?”

I manage to push the question through clenched teeth.

The curiosity in her grey eyes is unbelievably sexy.

“I think I got it,” she tells me, her eyes on my hard-on. Katniss matches my movements, even following the amount of pressure I usually use to a T. The softness of her skin and the firmness of her strokes causes me to push up into her hand. “Am I doing this right?”

“So right…” I reply breathless.

“And, do I anything with the head?” Katniss asks. Her eyes peer as a pearl of pre-cum seeps out from the tip. Her thumb unconsciously reaches to smear the liquid along the head and as she sweeps on the underside of it, I suddenly feel it happen—

“Fuck!” My hips shoot up as I abruptly come, spunk covering her hand…my stomach…her sheets…I feel dizzy at the sensation.

Shit—I can’t believe I came so quickly.

It’s like a girl has never put a hand on me or something. As I come down, I realize the mess that I’ve made and look to a shell-shocked Katniss.

“I’m so sorry…I should’ve mentioned getting a towel or something—”

“No,” she blurts out. Katniss is flushed, her whole body taking on a rosy hue. “Um…it was actually amazing to watch.”

“But the sheets…” I croak out. “I’ll pay you back.”

“You better.” She looks at her hand, covered by my essence. “How does this taste?”

And without another thought, Katniss sticks her finger in her mouth—

“UGH!” She blanches and then looks to me aghast, her eyes almost bugging out. “In Johanna’s books, they all make jizz sound so good. This is…not. No offense.”

“I don’t exactly sample my semen,” I tell her as I sit up. “But how does it taste?”

Katniss smacks her lips. “Like nothing at first and then extremely bitter—” She gags. “And I feel like my mouth is going to be dry for the rest of the night…I need water…or a beer.”

“I’ll grab you one,” I tell her. “But first, I need a towel.”

+++++++

Peeta returns after taking a quick break from the bathroom and then the kitchen. He’s holding out a beer and a bottle of water for me.

“A peace offering for ruining a very nice duvet set,” Peeta says. “Which one?”

“I’ll take the water first.” The bitter taste hasn’t exactly disappeared from my tongue or my throat. “Out of curiosity, is there anyway to fix that taste?”

“I’ve heard that pineapple juice helps,” he replies. “I’m not sure how much the guy needs to drink but it doesn’t hurt to try, right?” Joining me on the bed—my sheets have now been pushed to the foot of the bed—Peeta turns to me. “Have you ever tasted yourself?”

“No. I don’t exactly think about sticking my fingers down there,” I say.

“You had boyfriends,” Peeta says, resting back on a pillow. “Have any of them ever kissed you after oral?”

I find myself scoffing.

“I had no idea how to give a handjob, you think that someone has gone down on me?”

My experience has consisted of some over-the-shirt action during a movie in high school and one rub over Marvel’s jeans which was quickly cut short because his mom had come home early from work.

And finally, this evening.

“We have to do something about that,” Peeta declares before taking the water from my grasp. “Lay back.”

“You really don’t have to,” I protest. “I’m learning how to seduce a man—”

“Listen, some guys are all for their own pleasure,” he tells me. “However, the right guys are going to reciprocate. If Cato doesn’t, he’s fucking trash.”

Oh, Cato. I forgot all about him.

The image of him has become a distant memory in comparison to watching Peeta come undone at just the stroke of my hand.

Makes a girl feel a little powerful, you know.

I nod in agreement as I lay flat on my back. “Do I ask him or should he just know?”

“The right guy is going to want to give you pleasure. Don’t sell yourself short, Katniss. You deserve someone who wants to give you what you need.” Peeta settles next to me, his lips going to my neck and I try to bite back a moan, but the feeling of his kiss goes straight to my pussy. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back.”

“Peeta, have you been with many women?”

He stops, pulling away, and looks to me…guiltily.

“We said honesty, right?” I nod and he lets out a sigh. “I’ve done stuff with girls. But I’ve never gone all the way.”

I’m intrigued. The campus is full of beautiful women and more than one woman has come to me asking for help in regard to catching Peeta. “Why?”

Peeta shrugs. “We get to that point and…it never pans out.”

“So, I would be your first?” I ask slowly. “If it pans out.”

He nods. “Are you mad?”

I shake my head immediately.

“No. I can’t really judge you on waiting when I’ve done the same thing. It just has to be the right person and we trust each other. We’re not afraid to be real—even if it hurts.”

“Right,” Peeta agrees quietly. He looks down at me. “You really are a queen, Katniss.”

That look in his eyes; it’s full and warm. I can’t breathe from the intensity of it all.

“Now, I demand that you touch me,” I say, hoping that my voice sounds light. I take the hand resting against his side and press it to one of breasts. His eyes go to his hand, cupping my breast, his thumb just hovering over my nipple. “You have touched a boob, right?”

That snaps him right out of his trance. “I have…lots of them!”

I laugh—hard—at the incredulous look on his face. “You just looked really in over your head for a moment!”

“You have a pair of gorgeous tits in your grasp, you’re going to be a little overwhelmed,” he protests with a grin. His thumb brushes over my nipple—finally!—and I’m immediately squirming at his touch. Peeta notices, his eyes go to me. “You like this.”

I love it.  I’ll never admit that it’s because the sight of my arousal causes his whole expression to go slack. I have a power over him, and I enjoy it.

“Obviously,” I choke out.

Then Peeta leans down, taking my nipple into his mouth.

Everything flips and I lose myself of the sensation of him teasing the peak to full height. He nips, not too hard and swirls around my areola gently.

However, when he suddenly sucks—

“Stop!” I yelp.

Peeta pulls back immediately. “What?”

“Too much, dude!” I push up on my elbows. “Honesty, right?” He nods, still silent. “You have to be a little gentler. No girl wants to feel like you’re trying to milk her like a cow.” Taking his hand, I bring my mouth to his index finger and suck gently at the tip of it. Peeta starts at the motion. I draw my lips away slowly, eyes on him, pulling out with a soft pop. “Like this.”

He lets out a ragged breath. “You’re amazing.”

I snort as I lay back down. “I just believe in a good education.”

Peeta moves down, mouth just over my breast and with the slightest of touches, takes my nipple into his mouth once more.

And it’s fucking amazing.

My lower half twists and I can feel the gush of wetness between my thighs as he sucks and savors. I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything more than feeling Peeta’s mouth on my tits.

Maybe there is one thing.

Our first kiss.

Peeta is moving downwards, his lips on my abdomen, gentle as he tastes my skin and it sends shivers through me.

This shouldn’t be happening; I shouldn’t be enjoying this…

This intimacy, those kisses.

I shouldn’t be having an epiphany about my feelings as Peeta kneels in front of me and parts my thighs. He lays on his stomach, resting my thighs onto his shoulders, and bringing his mouth over my netherlips.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pushing myself onto my elbows to look at him.

“I’m going to eat you out,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Didn’t we just have this talk about reciprocation? I swear sometimes I don’t think you really listen to me—”

“Stop with the melodrama.” I take a deep breath before speaking. “I feel a bit overwhelmed. Because I’m not going to come right away. Maybe I won’t even come.”

“This isn’t about an orgasm,” he argues. “It’s about learning to enjoy yourself. Any decent guy will enjoy the sound of his girl enjoying herself, okay?” Peeta looks at me in exasperation. “Now will you lay back like a good girl and just let me eat your pussy already?”

I huff and lay back.

The first swipe is not so bad, just a quick sweep from my lips to just above my clit, and I hum in contentment. He takes that as a good sign and continues, listening for whenever a hiss and groan escapes my lips.

I don’t make it very easy on him or myself. I’m stuck in my own head about whether or not, it’s okay down there…scent wise.

“Peeta?” I push back onto my elbows. He looks up, doe-eyed and his jaw covered in…me. “I smell okay, right?”

“You smell lovely,” he assures me with chuckle.

“Lovely?” I raise a brow. “Like what does that exactly smell like?”

“Kind of musky, but not too much,” he informs me. “And you taste just as nice.”

“How’s that?”

Peeta sits up for a moment, thinking on my question. “Faintly salty, but good.”

I tilt my head at his words. “Like a salt-water gargle?”

“No…” He pauses. “…more like chicken broth?”

I can’t help but laugh. “That’s about the realest answer I’ve heard.”

“Would you settle for bone broth then?” he retorts with a grin. “It’s much better for you.”

“Why am I friends with you?” I ask.

Peeta smirks—and he’s so damn handsome that I want nothing more than to just be near him.

“Because I’m the shit.”

I’m on my knees right in front of him. I can smell myself on his lips, it’s not bad—faintly musky.

“Shithead,” I retort.

Peeta wraps his arms around my back, pulling me close.

“Taste yourself on me,” he whispers.

I press forward, my mouth slanting over his, tasting that tang of myself. He responds ardently, his tongue rough inside my mouth, hungry and yearning for something that I desperately want to give him.

Love.

Did I just fucking fall in love with him?

He pulls away breathless, his blue eyes dark and full as he looks at me and only me.

“What did I tell you?” he says huskily. “Lovely.”

Yes.

Yes, I fucking did

#Lesson Learned #Part Three #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark #college!Everlark

[raijinswaifu]

Taste of Sake

A smite fanfic reintroducing Kushinada-Hime focusing on her friendship with Danzaburou and marriage to Susano’o. It is a wholesome fic don’t worry.

A lone goddess hummed to herself as she brewed a batch of sake. Taking a sample taste for herself, she gave the sake her approval before she started to pack the sake nice and neatly. Hearing the rattle of bottles behind her, Kushinada happily saw her tanuki friend. “Hello there, Danzaburou. I’m almost done with your order.” Kushinada told the tanuki as she checked off her list to make sure everything was in order before she gave her stamp of approval.

“Ah, Kushinada-Hime, you are too kind. I hope those kitsune aren’t causing you too much trouble.” Danzaburou mentioned. Kushinada softly laughed at his suggestion. She knew the ages long and possible fatal rivalry the two had against one another. Still she had established her brewery as a neutral place between the two.

Danzaburou and Kushinada specifically had a friendship that lasted as long as the rivalry did. He was a merchant at heart after all and he was more than eager to get sake from a goddess. Kushinada meanwhile decided to open this brewery to keep herself busy. She wasn’t some celestial goddess who spent all her time in her heavens. While her husband was fighting in wars, Kushinada would tend to her crops and brewing.

“Oh I’m not worried about those kitsune. They’re polite enough but I won’t expect you to make pleasantries.” Kushinada winked at Danzaburou as she gave her stamp of approval. It wasn’t any surprise that tanukis went through a lot of sake but Danzaburou was always a good customer to her so she was happy to provide. It’s not like she needed the money but still the work was nice.

“So how is the war?” Kushinada asked. The question laid dormant in the air. Everyone knew now of the war between gods and pantheons. Kushinada had hoped that Susano’o wouldn’t get involved but it was no surprise that when Amaterasu announced it that he soon joined. 

“Ah I wish I had good news to give Kushinada- Hime. Not long after I joined one of those ancient creator deities soon appeared. Some Babylonian deity, Tiamat. A dragon no less.”

“A dragon…” Kushinada trailed off in thought. She never looked fondly at the likes of dragons or serpents ever since her encounter with Orochi. Thankfully her husband was understanding and let her stay in Japan while he went to meet with other deities specifically the draconic deities.

“And my husband?” She mentioned to avoid the topic of dragons going any longer than it needed to.

“Him? He’s been raiding my sake supplies!” Danzaburous laughed merrily. “He said it was because he knew it was brewed by you. Several times I found him blacked out drunk on the stuff.” Kushinada laughed at the idea of Susano’o missing her so much that he drank himself silly over it.

Susano’o was a chaotic husband but a good one nonetheless. Behind his rough exterior he confided in her that he feared that their marriage would result like the others of his family. That wasn’t a surprise after all. Everyone in Japan knew of Izanami and Izanagi or Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi. 

But despite his fears, they had lasted. Albeit their marriage was a strange circumstance altogether. “Kushinada-Hime would you like to join me on a walk?” Danzaburou offered which surprised Kushinada out of her thoughts. 

“Of course, dear friend.”

As some tanukis took Danzaburou’s order of sake, the pair walked out of the brewery. The outside was fields of lush crops as far as the eye could see. It was a plentiful place, so much so that villages had sprung up around her brewery. Danzaburou led Kushinada through the pathways towards one of these villages. For the most part it seemed quiet and quaint until they got to the main plaza.

What looked to be a small festival was prepared. “Danzaburou did you do all of this for me?” Kushinada looked down to the smiling tanuki.

“Absolutely! After all the work you put in, you deserve a break and celebration. I’ve also invited some friends I made to meet you.” Kushinada smiled at the idea of what kind of friends Danzaburou was making.

Looking over to the strangers, Kushinada saw a large man with a beer belly. Maybe greek of roman by the look of him while the other was a giant made completely of ice. “Ymir, Bacchus, Meet Kushinada.” Danzaburou introduced her to his friends.

“A toast to the brewer of this fine alcohol!” Bacchus cheered as he lifted a whole bottle of sake and shamelessly downed it.

“Ymir likes the drink!” The frost giant known as Ymir said before he started to join in the drinking. Kushinada laughed as she saw how much Danzaburou’s friends liked to party just like him. It was always a pleasure of her’s to provide for the festivities of people.

Going over to join the fun, Kushinada happily went to find her own bottle of sake. However unlike her guests she kept to using a cup as she poured one for Danzaburou and one for herself. As the sun went down, Kushinada enjoyed and got relaxed as she drank and spent her time with the company before her.

Slowly getting up, Kushinada went for a walk to clear her head from the drink and for some fresh air. Even as a goddess associated with sake, she wasn’t immune to it. Leaning against one of the buildings, Kushinada sighed in thought. She was starting to miss Susano’o and even the brewing wasn’t enough to completely dismiss those thoughts from her anymore.

Kushinada had to keep herself balanced and her eyes focused on what was in front of her. Must have been her state but she swore she saw someone approaching. Steading herself, Kushinada looked again and her eyes widened. Pushing herself off the wall, Kushinada shamelessly stumbled as she sprinted to him.

Expecting his wife, Susano’o opened his arms wide as she landed in them. The pair felt good to be in each other’s embrace again. Looking down at his wife, Susano’o noticed the pink of her cheeks. “You’re drunk aren’t you?”

“Maaaaybe.” Kushinada trailed off in a bit of a drunken slur. Susano’o laughed at her antics but it was good to know she was in a well enough state to be celebratory. Swiftly picking her up, Susano’o smiled as he saw Kushinada get comfortable in his arms. With the ongoing war, it was nice for the married couple to reunite.

#smite #smite game #smite fanfic #kushinada

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary:  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 6: In Search of a Market

Tws: brief mention of panic, if there are others to tag please let me know!

WC: 2766

General taglist (ask to be added or removed): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi

Leaning his cane carefully against the outer wall of the building Hyden settled down on the ground slowly and began arranging the sticks he had been picking up into a pile. Logan followed not far behind, sighing in relief as he slid off the heavy pack and gently placed it beside him on even ground. The last thing he needed was for it to tip and have to rearrange everything if his samples shifted around.

Hyden looked up from his work to eye the pack in annoyance. “We’d go a lot faster if you hadn’t brought your entire barn with you.”

“We’d also go faster if-” Logan cut himself off from snapping something he’d regret, cranky and tired as he was throwing insults about something no one could change was not a line he would cross. 

Hyden, stubborn ass that he was, decided to dig. “If what Logan?”

“Don’t.” He reached forward to place his hand on the pile, moisture collecting around it that was ficked into a container before he placed a finger near the pile again. There was a muted snapping sound as a single spark crackled in front of the shriveled wood, immediately catching and spreading to make a small fire for the night. It was hardly even dark yet but it was always good to stop early if there was a good resting spot to be had, especially with how unpredictable things could be the farther from the forest they ventured.

“I’m not stupid, Logan. But-” He held his hand up to cut the other off from whatever he was to planning to retort with. “I understand. Even if it is still an ungodly amount you took the bare minimum to continue your research. I’m only concerned about being caught out here, either by guards or beasts.”

They were both tired and on edge, running away from both the forest and avoiding whatever mech beasts they could until they found a better way to carry Logan’s portable, hashed together lab. It had been a few days since they had left and they had done nothing but walk, taking as little breaks as possible to cover as much ground as quickly as they could and they were both starting to feel the effects of it, Janus because of his leg and Logan because he simply wasn’t used to travel. He had stayed in the farmhouse for so long, becoming complacent in its relative safety that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind to be ready to pick up and leave at any given moment. He only hoped he truly had grabbed everything he would need and wouldn’t be missing anything later when they needed it. Speaking of which-

“It isn’t what you're used to but this should hold you over until we can get somewhere that I can make more salve.” Passing a bottle of arthritic tylenol to the other he made a mental note to keep an eye out for the herbs he would need; he had been going to go on a trip soon to replenish his stock but they had left before he got a chance. Hopefully whatever he could scrounge up would be enough for now.

“Thank you.” They sat in silence, just staring into the dancing flames. Logan wanted to say something but really didn’t want to bring up another argument, content enough to wait for them to warm up before pulling anything out for dinner. They couldn’t cook anything for fear of the smell attracting anyone who might be close if they fire didn’t do it already, but preserved bread and some nuts were just as good...for now.

Hyden shifted into a more comfortable position, wincing slightly before settling his chin in his hand. “Either you start talking or I do and I’m willing to bet the last thing you want is news from the Court right now.”

Logan shuddered to think of the chaos it had most likely dissolved into by now, considering the state he had left it in. No, he definitely did not want to know what they had been doing all this time- for now at least. It was always best not to talk too openly about the affairs of the fae out in the open. “No, I was mostly wondering where we could go to stock up our supplies. We’ll need to soon depending on how far out we need to go before we’re safe.”

“Logan.” He looked up to see Hyden’s confused expression. “You do realize we’ll most likely never be able to stop right? Unless you want to go back and gain freedom somehow with brute force, but they aren’t going to stop looking just because you moved out of the forest. Your research isn’t exactly...encouraged.”

“It never was.” Logan mumbled, idly throwing a small stone into the fire to watch as the dirt it was covered in flared before soot began to coat it instead, pointedly ignoring the look he was getting.

“You don’t even know that you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“I know enough to suspect and with the way things- Hyden those things were dead. They were hastily constructed, poorly made machines that could barely imitate the wobble of a toddler if left to their own devices. And then all of the sudden they were up and running and attacking like it was instinctual! We hadn’t even programmed that in yet.” Logan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “It needs to make sense and my hypothesis is the only one I can think of-”

“You honestly think animals are running in little hamster wheels inside them to make them do things?’ Hyden smirked at the deadpan stare he received.

“That is not what I said and you know it.”

“Isn’t that why when they attack they still eat? To feed the animal inside?”

“Hyden-”

“I’ll stop.” He chuckled at the scientist's sour expression. “But honestly, animals being preserved inside for energy? I don’t think they’d be capable of such a thing in such a short time span.”

“At the level of desperation they were at before I left I wouldn’t put it past them. The beasts have the instinct to hunt and fight just like any other animal would- the only difference is they have specific targets in mind when they do it. I can’t fathom what else they could have done unless they were working on a secret program that I had no idea about- which is highly unlikely considering how high up in the project I was.” Sniffing indignantly Logan passed a few pieces of the crunchy bread to his companion, already missing his usual meals and wishing more than anything they were far enough out that they could catch and cook something.

“In answer to your earlier question,” Logan flushed with the realization he had forgotten what they had been originally talking about. “There’s a few settlements underground- some quite impressive- that we might be able to find to get more nonperishable items to have until we can get far enough away that trapping and cooking wouldn’t be an issue. We just need to find a river.”

“A river?”

Hyden nodded. “They’re used somehow to power the city. They’re humans, but they can be clever at times.”

“They’re just as smart as anyone else, we just beat them to the stupidity of ruining the planet.” Finishing his dinner Logan sighed. “The sooner we figure out how the beasts work, the sooner we can shut them off and lower the Court’s defenses. They weren’t relying on anything else when I was there.”

“That’s your plan? Shut down whatever gets in the way and just waltz your way back in?” Hyden snorted. “I’m sure they’ll all adore the scientist that abandoned his post coming back to give them a stern lecture on the importance of ethical science.”

“I’ll have you know I have a bit more tact now that I’ve spent some time away.”

“Oh honey, I love you so much but you blew holes straight through buildings and ran in a straight line through the forest to escape.”

Flushing, Logan looked away as the other laughed quietly. “It was a flight response and I didn’t think pulling the emergency evacuation switch had actually worked!”

“It was cute. Very subtle and very you. Though I do wish you would have waited for me, I would have loved to see you running through snap explosions like a dragon learning its magic for the first time.”

“It was a straight line!” 

“Logan a building fell over sideways because you blew through an entire support wall.” Hyden’s eyes crinkled with a fond smile. “That pout definitely helps your case.”

Hurrying to unfold his arms he took a few seconds to move oxygen away from the fire, letting Hyden rearrange the sticks so they’d stay as lit embers to keep them warm until they fell asleep. He yelped as his blanket was thrown in his face, taken out of god knows where just to spite him. Shooting the other a withering look he didn’t end up seeing he curled onto his side and sighed. Another night spent outside and another day spent walking in a random direction. Hopefully they’d come across a town soon.

He really hated the dry bread.

-----

“Wait Roman, is that it?” Virgil pointed to a spot in the middle of the river they had been following. The subtle line of foam could easily be missed if you weren’t looking hard enough but he and Roman had spent almost their whole lives learning to look for these subtle hints a town was nearby.

“Finally! Okay keep going this way, you circle back the way we came and look.” So saying Roman hurried over to where the line was and began walking out to the surrounding field while Virgil turned to look out from where they had already passed.

There wasn’t a clear agreement on what kind of settlement was better: one that was above ground with tall, thick walls to try and hold back the forest and mechs, or ones made underground that people hoped the forest would grow right over- and seeing how the mechs had never been seen digging into the ground there was little fear of it being destroyed. Underground settlements however, obviously didn’t see the sun like the ones above did, so they used water instead. The little line of foam signaled that water from the river was being redirected to a system of water wheels for hydroelectric power for the city. To keep it from flooding or corroding, the system was often just beside the river on the other side, where there would be a subtle exit for water to escape if the system failed. On the other side was the actual entrance, another hidden passage that would lead underground to the levels of the city beneath it. All they had to do was locate and identify the passageways and they’d be able to get in, get to the market to trade and get back out hopefully without too much hassle. It was a system that after years of traveling together they had perfected, however rocky their beginning had been.

He heard a shout from Roman as he was poking around in some grass, sighing in relief when he saw them waving him over. Readjusting the heavy pack he walked up to where there was a bump in the grass, almost like the ground had a pimple. Toeing around the edges however he could feel a thin seam that when lifted revealed a ladder about a foot away from the top.

“The entrance on the first try!” Roman declared triumphantly.

“Yeah now I won’t have to hear you complain about wet boots and pants the entire time we’re here.” Virgil teased. If they were unlucky enough to find the exit first, where there was just a straight drop to the water systems, they’d have to cross the river to find the entrance instead. The past few times had been like this with Roman complaining about being wet and both of them shivering miserably through the market the entire time. These trips weren’t fun to begin with but it added another layer when their clothes stuck fast and the cool air of the caves did nothing to dry them faster. Ignoring Roman’s pout he dropped down and began to descend.

The air immediately cooled as he surrounded himself with earth Roman shimmying down above him and shutting the entrance, encasing them in darkness. Taking a steadying breath he made his way down carefully, counting softly as he went so Roman would know when to step down. He was always very grateful the holes were wide enough to fit both them and their bags since dropping them down first wasn’t an option. The tunnel began to lighten the further down they went and Virgil let out a breath as his feet finally touched solid earth, reaching a hand out to steady Roman as they made it the rest of the way down as well. Gripping Roman’s hand tight to his so they wouldn’t get separated he squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes into the meanest glare he could muster, tugging up his hood and mask and stepping forward towards the light.

In most underground cities the main markets were on the first level. A seemingly endless amount of stalls and shacks set up advertising a variety of goods and services. Further to the sides had buildings for general maintenance where workers that handled the waterwheels and  power lived...as well as other services that required walls to pay for. The second level was mostly housing with buildings set in place for doctors offices and more formal stores if you had something to pay the price with. There were also the occasional restaurant and place of worship and even a school if the city had resources and time for it. If and when these kinds of settlements had a third level- most didn’t for the sake of time and integrity- it would be where more housing and the darker market was set up. Typically normal people wouldn’t be carrying around mech parts to sell, as being a Hunter wasn’t exactly the safest job to have. To make sure civilian numbers didn’t dwindle since they were low enough as it was, selling mech beast parts was typically banned, though no one would question you if you just happened to have them and weren’t trying to sell them. 

They had heard a while back about a settlement further out with a thriving black market that used the metal and gears from the mechs to make prosthetics and sometimes weapons. Since mass production of anything was a no-go with the way the world was, this person was absolutely flourishing in their business, even if it was kept on the down low so as to only attract the attention of people who would be buying and selling rather than investigating. This is where they were headed to sell the parts they had been able to gather, eager to finally get a good price for everything and get enough provisions to get back on the road. Weaving their way through a sea of people and following the shotty directions they had been given a few weeks back they finally stopped at a building tucked innocently in a far corner of the marketplace, a small sign out front advertising medical care. Virgil looked to Roman and nodded, moving behind them as they approached to keep an eye on the surrounding area. Being this deep in the city was dangerous; if they were recognized here they’d be hard pressed to get out in time before they were caught, the thought of which had Virgil’s heart hammering in his chest as Roman gave a few sharp raps to the door.

He shifted his pack as footsteps were heard banging up to the door that opened moments later to reveal a tall, rather lanky man with wild curly hair and a neatly kept mustache. The shop owner opened his mouth to speak but stopped before he let a word out, squinting his eyes and staring at Roman hard. Virgil felt his heart beginning to beat faster, muscles tense and ready to run as his eyes darted from the man to Roman back again, half tempted to punch him out and run regardless of what his intentions were. Blood rushed in his ears as the others’ eyes widened, Roman standing frozen in front of him as he finally spoke.

“Roman?”

This work is also available on AO3!

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I have a lot to expand upo in regards to how magic works in this worked, which we'll definitely be exploring in later chapters. For now if you have any questions about, feel free to ask either here or head over to @5-falsehoods-phonated on tumblr. Anon is always on and I'd be delighted to answer any and all questions provided the answer wouldn't be a spoiler. Thanks for reading ^-^

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#false writes #overgrown metal #fantasy au #sandrs sides fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil snaders #logan sanders #janus sanders #qpp lociet

[unichrome]

I’ve been wanting to write down as much as I can remember from the month at the hospital in April, and this tumblr blog is the only thing I have that even remotely resembles a journal. So here it is, feel free to read and comment if you’d like, but please don’t reblog.

I was living in Copenhagen when this happened.

A few weeks prior, I started a new medication, an antipsychotic so the usual side effect was to be expected: tiredness. But I’ve been in this carousel before, I know the worst is over after a week or so. I did indeed become extremely tired, and this was during working-from-home corona days so most shifts I ended up napping in the couch at any chance I got. Easily slept 12+ hours per night. It kept getting worse, I couldn’t stay awake during the days, became extremely lethargic. And it didn’t get better after a week, it just kept getting worse. So I called my psychiatrist and told her the medication wasn’t working and I felt so very bad and tired.

I got a new appointment with her, which I can’t even remember really. She got worried and sent me off to the psychiatric ward, where they did the standard blood test. Then sent me off to a room. Luckily I had anticipated for something like this to happen, so I had brought the work phone as well as chargers, so I could call in sick to work. A while later, three people suddenly entered and told me I had to go to the hospital right now, two of them were from the hospital transport. They took me to Amager hospital, I was so confused and not really present at all. I don’t know what they told me, but I needed a blood transfusion immediately. I stayed there for a night, the only thing I can remember is going to the bathroom once.

The Amager hospital apparently wasn’t capable of providing the care I needed, I was transported yet again, to Rigshospitalet. The memories from here on are very blurry and sporadic. Eventually I heard that both of my kidneys were failing, when I was admitted on April 22nd, my kidney functionality was around 18%. If it drops under 20% it becomes lethal. Kidneys are also responsible for the production of blood, which wasn’t happening anymore and I had a very dangerously low count of red blood cells.

I’m super difficult to get blood from if the first attempt isn’t successful, as the poor nurses became painfully aware of after failing on the first try. During one of the first days there, when the daily blood test was to be taken, they didn’t succeed. Three nurses tried, eventually they called for a narcosis doctor to try with a ultrasound machine to find my veins, but it didn’t work very well either. They stung me all around the body, down to my feet and it took at least an hour to get the sample and my body had pretty much gone into shock since medical procedures and needles of any kind are one of my worst fears. Because of this it was decided to install a port for draining blood so this wouldn’t have to be repeated every day.

A kidney biopsy was ordered as well as more detailed blood tests to figure out why this kidney failure was happening. I would also have to call my parents in Sweden and tell them what was happening, and the fact that they couldn’t come and visit me, at all. I was in a quarantined zone of the hospital where no visitors were allowed, not even family. But also Denmark had closed its borders at the time, so they couldn’t even enter the country in the first place.

My only contact with the outside world was my phone that I treated as the most precious thing in the entire world, it was also pretty much the only thing I had with me. I would have long calls with my family talking about the most mundane and boring things but it was such a blessing to hear about, I would drag out the subjects as much as I could and so would they. I’d often cry after having to stop the calls.

The biopsy and tests revealed that I had antibodies that shouldn’t be there. My immune system was attacking the body, pretty much. This autoimmune disease is very rare, Microscopic Polyangiitis, and will cause kidney failure (and other organ failures) if not discovered and treated in time. Since I barely had any prior symtoms, it wasn’t discovered in time. My lungs were also examined as the disease usually targets kidneys and/or lungs, but no significant damage was found there luckily.

I was put on steroids (prednisone 60 mg) that would support the kidneys and dampen the damage from the antibodies as well as chemotherapy (Sendoxan 100 mg) that would shut down the immune system almost completely. Synthetic hormone injections every week to stimulate the production of red blood cells.

Every morning a blood test was done a 6:00, as well as checking the temperature and blood pressure. I was forced to drink 3 liters of fluid every day (which I logged on a paper meticulously - every ml counted) and I could only pick between water, disgusting orange juice or disgusting apple juice. Except during lunch, when I got a small package of milk - this became pretty much the highlight of my day. One glass of milk. That was like pure joy, it tasted so divine. In just a few days your entire world shifts in such a way that this package of milk is what you look forward to the next day.

All day I was bedbound and in a haze, time was entirely dependent on medicine, meal and test times like a work schedule, from the 6:00 tests to the final 23:00 medications, that left 7 hours of rest that was robbed from me because prednisone makes you unable to sleep well, even with the sleep aids I got. Despite being in bed almost all day every day, I was constantly sleepy and tired but I would never get any rest. Couldn’t even pee normally either, had to collect everything in a bottle for them to log.

But of course it would get worse. After about 6 days, my doctor came in and told me that the treatment didn’t seem to be working fast enough. My kidney functionality kept dropping, now at 13%, creatinine levels above 400 (it should never be above 80 for women, around 200 is kidney failure). They had one more weapon to combat this - plasmapheresis. This would mean connecting me to a machine that would take out my blood, clean it from the harmful antibodies, and put it back in again. Hopefully this would buy me time for the treatment to win. To do this, they had to cut up my throat to insert two tubes that would take in and out the blood. I had to be awake during the whole procedure to control the breathing as instructed.

I wasn’t connected to the machine all the time. A few hours every other day. It was noisy, sounded like a miniature washing machine, and I hated it so much. The tubes in my throat, blood going in and out of me, it was just pure terror even if the procedure itself didn’t hurt. I got some mild sedatives but they were way too mild and didn’t do shit. The fact that I didn’t have to be connected to the machine every other day became yet another highlight like the milk. I’d talk about how today was such a good day because it was a no machine day, like a holiday.

Showering was horrible too. Because of the tubes I had to avoid getting them wet as much as possible while still somehow washing the hair. Then the tape around the tubes had to be changed and I hated anyone touching that area. I went for as long as I could between the showers, up to 9 days.

I was quickly becoming very weak, as the medications and chemo ate away at my bones and muscles. My legs have always been strong, I’ve had no problems doing squats with a grown man hanging on my back. But one day when I was in the bathroom, I spilled some toothpaste on the floor. I squat down to wipe it, but I couldn’t get back up again. My legs were way too weak. I ended up having to drag myself up via the toilet and sink, it felt so humiliating I refused to use the button to call for help. I bet it took several minutes to get back up standing.

It was still very unsure if I would make it, the plasmapheresis wasn’t a guaranteed help. One day a psychologist came to talk to me, but the only thing I remember is that he asked if I was afraid of death. I told him that my current biggest fear was the damn tubes in my neck, the constant needles, every day the touching and prodding of my body, but it didn’t seem like it got through to him. Maybe because my Danish was so damn shitty too, I could barely articulate myself and what I felt in Swedish, much less in English or Danish, I think I was mostly rambling incoherently.

In the meantime my parents had been writing the hospital for updates and visitation possibilities, and eventually the kind nurses and doctors there started fighting for getting my parents to visit. They got granted an exception by the hospital to visit my room once per day, but they still couldn’t get into the country. My parents contacted the Danish police asking if an exception could be made since it now was entirely possible that this could be the last time they’d see me. They were eventually granted permission and now the final hindrance remained - getting there. Since they live far up north, the transportation options are limited especially during corona. There were essentially no flights, so the second best option was train for about 2 days.

As luck would have it, the plasmapheresis did help, my kidneys were slowly recovering and once I got up to around 25% functionality, I was free from the damn machine and the medications now had the upper hand against my stupid immune system. In the final days at the hospital, my parents arrived. And we could actually be happy because it seemed like the danger was over. I begged the doctor to release me and let my parents help me at home instead. I knew how to take the medications by now and it wouldn’t be necessary for daily tests anymore. She agreed but I had to come to the hospital every few days for a checkup.

And that concluded my first chapter of this disease and kidney failure. Thank you for reading all the way to here, I appreciate it.

#njursvikt #sjukhus

[believerindaydreams]

Crossing at dawn, part eight

Manny

The new tent isn't, so to speak, a patch on the old one; inside it's a dirty orange like a rusted fire box, and the bedding is bits of cardboard with cloth draped across them. The floor squishes under your feet when you walk.

I'm kind of tempted to head back out and take a guard shift anyway, but Carla says Arcade needs the practice. So he'll get it, even if I'm keeping an ear out for trouble. Two ears, I don't like what's with him.

Boone's busy gulping down a box of mash like he figures it'll run away from him. I don't like that either. My chunky sniper isn't built for this much running amuck, so the sooner we can get some nice quiet guard duty the better.

I crack open a beer, down a respectable amount before offering to my partner; he hesitates, takes it in the end. "So...Rivet City in the morning? If Arcade's steady enough to be left alone."

"Take it in shifts. Two here, two to see if they have a doctor. Buy more ammo for you, if we can...Manny." He wraps his hands around the bottle, in a tight grip. "Maybe you'd better take Arcade. Whatever's wrong with him, that head wound can't be helping."

Something I want to know Arcade's clear of, before listening to his weird theories about mutation-by-sex. Wouldn't be the first time I watched an NCR boy come up with some truly wild theories to excuse which side of the line he'd ended up on- oh, hell, was Arcade a virgin before Boone shacked up with him? Unmarried idealist and all? Gonna be just our luck if we've got a case of bad conscience on our hands. "No problem, my man. I'll make sure they throw the sink at him- got something else to worry about, though."

"What is it?"

Damn it, that husky voice gets me every time. "Say we can get jobs at Rivet City. It's worth checking out, isn't it? I know Arcade had problems but face it, he'll have problems with anything a couple snipers can do to earn caps."

He finishes the mash, hands me the fork; I lick it clean and dig into a mac n' cheese. "They might not want us. You know...with whatever we have going on here."

Arcade can't lie for shucks, and Carla deserves having all of us around, what she went through when Boone and I let her down the first time. "Twelve feet of dirt by a train station isn't farmland enough to support us, this isn't the Mojave. I can't even fall back on old habits and mix chems without the raw material."

"How much do you have left?"

"Not a whole lot. One more big Super Mutant attack, maybe two, I'm saving it for us."

"There's something else," Boone says, finishing the beer. "I went walking, brought my binoculars along. There's a building to the west with catwalks in good shape, looks like it was being guarded...we could head that way and see if they need help. After that's the river."

"I think we avoid that. Crazy Wolfgang said you can die of rad poisoning just by falling in."

"Could be he's right. Carla's counter goes wild whenever she goes near the water."

I scrape up a few last bites of macaroni before continuing. "What if we just get you and Carla into Rivet City? I mean...she's getting pretty far along. Safer for her in a settlement with a doctor on hand- and you know she won't go for it without you there."

"Yeah. Guess you're right...I don't know I like it, though. We sort of need each other now." Boone's not what you call touchy-feely, at least not while dressed, so for him to grip my wrist isn't what you'd call usual. "Almost the last mistake I ever made was not trusting you. Don't want to repeat it."

"Sure, Boone, sure." I treat myself to some quality petting, hand on his collarbone and heading south. Promises are one thing, surviving is another. We'll do what we have to in order to live, and if a few hearts get broken along the way- so be it.

But I'd sooner let him leave than watch him hurting.

It's what I did the first time.

*****

Boone

Thought it was going too smooth.

We spent a few days cycling in and out of Rivet City, Arcade getting his head fixed and my addictions cleared up. Don't see why the Followers make such a fuss about that- costs caps, but they can do it easy. And I've seen a quick Med-X or Psycho make the difference often enough.

Manny stopped looking for reasons not to sign up when he met Cindy- she sells chems, they spent three hours talking shop first they met. He offered to take her walking, she treated him to a free sample. Don't think he expected any of this. Know I wasn't.

Can't stop him if he's in love, but-

Carla met someone at the clinic, a tough wasteland wanderer who told her that his mother died giving birth here; I'd like to wrap the bastard's pistol around his neck for scaring her. She doesn't want to stay. Arcade doesn't either; they have a science lab here, but he threw up when he came back on deck, said it gave him the creeps.

Maybe we didn't get him to a doctor in time; or maybe he's just falling apart after seeing too much.

Don't know what's gonna happen next. We were all pulling together, and then the moment we get our breath back it starts falling apart. Don't think I'll get through this without losing someone.

Whoever it is, this is gonna hurt.

[manjuhitorie]

HITORI-ESCAPE 2020 : Hitorie’s Free Concert Live Stream - December 7th 2020

In celebration of their newest single, curved edge, Hitorie streamed a full length concert! Setlist: Polaris Senseless Wonder Namid[A]me Garandou Mae Zero Banchi SLEEPWALK Loveless Gekijougai Talkie Dance Unknown Mother Goose Karanowaremono Ao curved edge In it they announced the release of a new album! Named... REAMP! Febuary 17th can’t come soon enough!!! It will even include songs written by not only Shinoda, but Yumao and ygarshy each as well! Concert report below:

Initial Impressions: ＊ SND’s shirt has Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe printed on it. ＊ He has a stageprompter to assist with lyrics as well. He struggles to hit the high notes but he nails the high octane power chords. wowaka used to wing when his would sing, so he would slip on his lyrics, and make silly faces, every other song live. I see SND is playing it safe, now that he’s the one in charge of the crazy lyrics!!! Prelude leading into... Polaris ＊SND gets riled up and turned thhe「誰も知らぬ明日へ行け　誰も止められやしないよ」lyric into a rowdy 「止められやしねえよ」 . Equivalent to “No one can stop us” being turned into “No once can fucking stop us” or so. Shinoda “We’re Hitorie, enjoy the show.” (This ‘Hitorie desu, yoroshiku douzo’ was always wowaka’s stock concert phase.) Senseless Wonder ＊”Woo-hoo”’s or unintelligible noises made in the riff music breaks. ＊Yumao sings the backup vocals.  ＊SND wiggles his foot on his Wah pedal to make the wonky sounds.

Intermissional MC

Shinoda “This marks the beginning of Hitori-Escape. We are called Hitorie. Everyone please stick with us.“Heavy breathing “Hold up. I jumping around too much right off the bat.. I jumped around too much... All I did was hip and hop around a little bit... Haah. I’m gonna drink some water, drink some water!” SND walks over to the amp where bottles lie atop then proceeds to take a big sip. Yumao also follows along with a drink. Yu and SND can be seen conversing, but only SND’s “You got that right.” can be heard. SND returns to the mic “Take a gander, everyone. Even Yumao-kun is already sweating as well. This sparkly sweat of ours.. We will try to deliver you guys our sweat at the highest quality we can offer, deliver it as much as possible.” While SND is talking Yumao makes signs, such as 2 fingers up, towards the staff. “Well then, let’s chug along. Enjoy the show everyone.” Namid[A]me ＊There’s bubble popping sound effects in the intro now! Yumao is in charge of this, see his MacBook + mixer (+ a handy setlist printout) setup on the table beside him. All with a music program open primed and ready... Right before the song you can even see Yumao click his computer as well! 

＊ Yumao sings backup vocals, the whole chorus has his deep voice echoing. The small amount of notes are so concise and moody live... ＊ SND tops the outro off with a “Wasshoi!” Garandou Mae Zero Banchi ＊ Melodramatic piano bit added before the intro. I wonder where this was sampled from... It sounds like SND uses his stereo chorus pedal for his part as well. Shinoda “Thank you.”

Intermissional MC

Shinoda “Uhm.. At the end of our previous live stream I had said ‘Next time we meet will be at the concert hall.’. Sorry, that was a lie... We’re meeting at a live stream yet again. We’re Hitorie, enjoy the show.” Yumao taps his cymbals gently to create the classic concert mood starter sound. SND “That, that’s good! That’s the stuff! That’s the stuff. Without that stuff I feel the silence responding to me.” He motions at the empty auditorium. “That stuff’s nice, nice. I guess ‘cause, y’know. ‘Cause you two have already been y’know. Performing in front of people.” Yumao, hits his cymbal, cue a “Bwaa~n” sound. SND “You can fool me with that shit. No ‘Bwaa~n’ will work on me. You had 2 whole opportunities in a row, yesterday and the day before.” (Referring to Yumao’s appearance in Touyama Nao’s anniversary concerts.) Yumao hits his cymbal yet again, cue a “Shwaaan” noise. SND scoffs “What a kind and swe~et reaction.” SND “I’m the only one. The only one here who hasn’t stood up in front of people. My only upcoming chance will be at ‘Countdown Japan’, at the end of the year. Then in January I’ll be doing our limited fan club concert at Shibuya WWX. Back to back. What the hell is up with this year? What the hell, huh? Huh!!!” SND playfully pounces in Yumao’s direction. Yumao hits his cymbal again. “You’re saving my butt with that. Thanks, truly. Alright. From here on I’m to bring you a few songs without a guitar, only a mic in my hands.” Yumao “1, 2, 3, 4” SLEEPWALK ＊ SND gets on his knees and wiggles to walk on the floor during music breaks, is he imitating a sleepwalker.. ＊ Ygarshy presses a pedal right after every song ends, presumably his tuner, to mute and prevent static. He strums and slaps with his fingers, no pick, for every song. SND “2020 is slowly nearing its end, but, what’s everyone’s opinion on love?” Loveless ＊BONK 

＊ Includes Shinoda flopping around on the floor, squatting like a yakuza, and an outro with SND and yg having a mini string instrument battle! They huddle together! Yumao pounds away! Gekijougai ＊ Additional nebulous intro.  ＊ Yumao is really worked to the bone in this banger! Featuring yet another more intense battle between yg and SND. SND “Alrighty! Ah. Where are y’all now? Where are y’all right now? It doesn’t matter where you are, just dance along to Talkie Dance!” Talkie Dance ＊ During the riff breaks SND chants  Soi! Yoisa! Soi! Hoisa!” Like wasshoi, these are traditional shouts primarily used by O-mikoshi carriers in JP festivals! SND really seems to enjoy using old-fashioned words in a stylish way. SND “Upon this ending year, this one is with love from wowaka!” Unknown Mother Goose “Sing along with me!” ＊ Per usual, Yumao and ygarshy both pitch in for the ‘Oh oh oh’ harmonies. “Sing, please!” ＊ The background vocals in the Unknown Mother Goose are also confirmed by the man himself to be “Give me love”. He had responded to someone with “Oh! You’re sharp!” when asked about it!

Intermissional MC

“Are y’all having fun? Me, I can’t stop sweating. Help me. I can’t stop sweaaating.” SND changes to a high tone voice, “Ah~ This is awesomeee. Methinks this is awesome but, but I gotta say, I’m the only one here who hasn’t had a chance to perform in front of people, no kap.” He returns to his normal tone. “I hold a grudge. I’m always the only one being fucking left outtt. I can't let go of my grudge.

At least look me in the eyes, guys. Ah, whatever. On New Year's Eve I’m gonna appear in Countdown Japan, I’m gonna! ...What does it feel like anyway, performing in front of people? What does it feel like, may I ask you fine young gentleman?” SND’s voice turns to demonic. “Oiiii. Don’t just fucking nod at me. Don’t make up some new common language. You’re over there using no words, bitch.” His voice returns to normal. “Well, whatever. Enough of that. It’s no use staying jealous forever.” Yumao taps his cymbals... “Don’t just fucking ‘clang clang’ either!” Yumao laughs. “You laughed, you laughed! You laugh: you lose, you!”, they all smile. “Uhm... On December 31st, New Year's Eve, we’ll be at Countdown Japan. Please come if you can, hope to see you there. Now then! Next year, I’m talking about next year, it will be the 7th year anniversary of our major debut. In celebration, and to kick off the new year, we have booked Roppongi’s EX Theater for two days, January 21st and 22nd,. This is all I can say for now. Details will be announced later. ...Now let me drink some water.” ygarshy is all done tuning and at attention. Yumao keeps making cymbal sounds to fill the empty space. “I... Today, here, is uhm, Yokohama’s Bay Hall. It’s the place where ‘Swallowtail’ was filmed. When we arrived this afternoon I saw the windows and practically screamed. It’s Yen Town Band! It’s where Glico sang ‘My Way’! I alone was freaking out. Noone was on board with me.. I’m all alone, yet again.... The camera zooms in on Yumao, “Don’t just smile! Don't just smile at me With that said. Our 7th anniversary hits next year! So, here is our very first song, which represents our beginning....” Karanowaremono Ao ＊ Many emotional spotlights.

Intermissional MC

SND “At long last, this time has come. Huh! Mister Yumao-san!” SND glares at him. “Perhaps I may revel in a sip of water as well. A sip of water!! ... By the way what time is it? Yumao, in reporter voice “It is currently eight thirty seven.” SND “I see, it’s eight thirty seven. That's crazy. So today, our new song released, as you folks may know. Our new song called curved edge was released. Did you give it a listen? If you haven’t then please do, but also, the music video for the song will be public today at 22 o’ clock, please enjoy it. That’s the immediate future. But let’s talk about the faaar future.... On February 17th will a new album be released. We made an album. curved edge is a song written by me, and naturally it will be included in the album as well but, that’s not all.” He wags his finger towards the others, “This wiggly windy head of brown-colored hair and, this other wiggly windy head of black-colored hair have even each written a song for it as well. The title is R-E-A-M-P, REAMP. To be released on February 17th. Keep your eyes peeled.” he tapped his temple as he said this, “Please!” Ygarshy bows. “Ahhh, we made it!” Shinoda starts coughing, “Excuse me. Coughing without covering my mouth is not good. I'll be careful. Ah, I’m so nervous. I’ve grown nervous this far in. Alright, this next one will be the final song. Thank you so much for bearing with us. We are Hitorie. As farewell, here is our new song. curved edge.

Text:

I have also written up the original Japanese quotes! Thank you Tamagotoji for the huge help! ORZ For those looking to follow along with the concert, or learn new words from them, or enjoy!! Please enjoy! 

https://www.evernote.com/l/AolVRKvLGRpFN6l0MApPe5xuRXQOI4kFeTg

Bonus tech lore

Disclaimer: Only old photos exist of their pedalboards exist, as the cameramen did a fine job of concealing them. Since there’s no new evidence of change, I’ll assume these old findings will serve as foundation for their current setups as well!

#hitorie #ヒトリエ