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midnightstar-90 · 9 months

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Nothing Like The Present

(Not My Art. This belongs to @shuploc)

Miguel O'Hara x GN! Spider-Person! Reader

Taglist | Requests | Wattpad Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

Summary: Miguel and his Spider-girlfriend or boyfriend (However you get down) taking a nice little jog around the neighborhood. A woman jogs past with her baby in its stroller, and Miguel can't help but admire his significant other admiring the baby, making plans, in his head, for the future.

Warnings: FLUFF, Soft! Miguel, Small Mentions of Sex (Nothing too crazy) Slight angst

A/N: Wow! So, I wrote this as soon as I found the inspiration from @shuploc's Miguel O'Hara Fanart just so it wouldn't leave me. You should really check them out. Anyways, it's short, but I promise it's very fluffy, Soft! Miguel fic.

Words: 2.8K Words

Getting Miguel O'Hara to leave the Spider Society, for just a few hours, was a challenge. You admired his dedication to wanting to save literal universes, but with that came stress. And when Miguel was stressed, you were stressed.

You walked into Miguel's office, ready to give him the status report that he had requested. But as soon as you opened the door, you felt a small buzz from your spidey senses. Not even a second later, a book came flying at your head, in which you caught it by the spine of the book.

"It's just me, Miguel," You said, continuing your walk up to the man. This obviously wasn't your first go around with a quick-tempered and annoyingly stressed Miguel. In fact, most of the spider people would ask you to be the one to take things to the man, as he seemed to always be like this.

As you approached the man, you noticed the screens surrounding him. Some screens showed clips of Peter Parker Varients doing different things, while others showed other individuals who just happened to become a spider person. But the closer you got to the man, the more you saw what he was really staring at.

One screen that stuck out the most from the others was the screen of you laying limp in an alleyway puddle. You glanced at it with a sad look before leaning over to turn off the screen.

"Hey, I-"

Miguel quickly turned around to face you with a mean glare. The look didn't last long before his eyes met yours. His eyebrows unfurrowed, and his lips shifted from an angry sneer to a soft frown. you look up at the man with a sad smile.

"I think you need a break," you said, sincerely.

Miguel had been watching all the spider verses, looking for any anomalies that may alter the multiverse, but every time he did that, he would always come across some variant of me dying. And every time, I had to force him away from it. He would watch the clip for hours, studying it, hoping to find some sort of loophole. But Miguel knew that he couldn't alter a canon event. It's what made it a canon event.

Miguel looked down at you and sighed. He shook his head as he said, "Y/N, you know I can't. What if another anomaly-"

"Appears?" You cut him off with a knowing tone. Miguel's frown is replaced with a glare, almost as if he were annoyed, which he most likely was. It was the same exact situation every time. He would get too absorbed in trying to find anomalies, and when you told him to take a step back, he would give you an excuse as to why taking a step back wasn't a good idea. But you knew the man better than he knew himself, so you knew the signs of a cranky Miguel.

"Lyla is perfectly capable of watching over the spider verse for a couple of hours. Come on. It's not like I'm telling you to give up on the spider society, I'm just telling you to take a break and relax. You're overworking yourself, my love."

Your hands grip the man's forearms as you give the man a pleading look. He looks away, attempting to not give in to your alluring tactics. But as soon as he goes to see if you've stopped, he's instantly trapped, forcing himself not to give it. He felt like a fly in a spiderweb, begging to get out before losing everything to the hungry spider.

"Fine," he sighed, giving in to your powerful gaze. You laugh, clapping your hands, like a kid who just got what they wanted, before dragging the man out of the office and out of the Spider Society.

You and Miguel left for your apartment, after telling Jessica to look after the Spider Society and the Spider people within it. Jessica was the only one that both you and Miguel trusted with something so sacred to the large, intimidating man.

As you opened the apartment door, Miguel stood behind you with a pout. His posture stood slightly hunched with his head facing the ceiling. With a loud groan, Miguel said, "Why are we here. I'm not even tired."

You rolled your eyes at Miguel's childish behavior before responding with, "We're not here to nap. I was thinking we get all that stress out with a bit of exercise. Maybe a run. And then maybe we can get lunch before coming back here."

Miguel whined once more, following you into the small apartment. The two of you stood in the living room, in front of the door, looking at each other. Miguel clearly had the looks of someone who didn't want to be here, but you didn't care.

Instead, you left the man in the living room, to get to your room. You walked over to your dresser, pulling out the top left drawer, revealing some clothes that Miguel had left at yours, over time. Quickly shutting the drawer, you walk back to the living room. You found Miguel just standing there, staring into space, and without warning, you chucked the clothes at the man, causing him to stumble, and almost drop them.

As soon as Miguel went to open his mouth, you were quick to cut him off. "No questions. Just put those on," You barked closing your bedroom door.

Miguel looked down at the clothes in his hand, catching a whiff of something strangely familiar. A sly smirk appeared on his face as he began to calmly approach your door. He slowly opened the door. His eyes came in contact with your shirtless figure. Your body was well toned from being a part of the spider society. You weren't as bulky as Miguel, but you could tell that the muscles in your upper body were very strong.

You feel Miguel's presence behind you, and you quickly turn around with a loud "Hey!", covering your upper body (This can go both ways, can't it?). Miguel let out a soft laugh, "Nothing I haven't seen before, mi corazón." You scoff making the man laugh harder.

There was a slight pause between the two of you. Miguel's stare never left you, and neither did yours on him. He slowly approached you while lifting his sweatshirt up to his nose. He smelled it, closing his eyes as if he was smelling the most beautiful thing on earth. He let out a blissful sigh before opening his eyes once more. His eyes landed on your eyes, which shared a confused, weirded-out expression from watching the strange interaction in front of you.

The sly smirk was still on his face as he asked seductively, "Have you been wearing my clothes?" You look away from the man in front of you with blood rushing to your cheeks. Miguel saw the red tint, and smiled, knowing he got to you.

With his finger, he guided your head to face his once more. You wore a shy smile, as you hesitantly looked into his eyes. "Don't be embarrassed. I think you'd look adorable in my clothes." His voice was low, and suddenly you felt your knees start to buckle under you. Miguel's arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against his chest. His face was only centimeters away from yours, and it seemed like he was leaning closer to kiss you, but you were proven wrong when he pulled his face away from yours with a mischievous grin.

Miguel laughed, making you angrily glare at the man. You smacked his chest hard, mumbling a small, "You're such a tease," under your breath. "Just get ready," you order. Miguel does as you say, but not without giving you the occasional glance as you dressed away from him.

'I refuse to let anything happen to them,' Miguel thinks to himself, slipping on his running shorts. He watches you pull on a pair of your black jogger sweatpants, doing a slight bounce to help pull them around your waist. The joggers are baggy around your legs, but the waist area perfectly shows off your curves. Miguel just wanted to walk up behind you, so he could hold you and never let go. But he was quickly pulled out of his trans as you turned around, with everything already on.

You were now dressed in a heather grey thermal hoodie with neon mesh along the sleeve. You were looking down at your fitness band that you had gladly replaced your dimensional watch with. You looked up at Miguel, seeing that he was staring at you, and you gave him a smile. Miguel smiled back.

"It's a little breezy today. If you want to run shirtless, be my guess, but don't come crying when you catch a cold," You say smugly. Miguel scoffs, still carrying that smile that you loved to see before slipping on the hoodie that you gave him.

You grab his hand. "Come on. Let's go," You say, pulling the man out of your apartment.

Down the street from your apartment, there was a community park that everyone in your neighborhood loved to visit. It had something for everyone. Parks and water pads for the children, three different trails around the park, and even a small dog park that hosted both small and large dogs.

"This place is beautiful," Miguel spoke, almost speechless. His mouth opened, only slightly agape. He looked around at the park and marveled at the sight. "Life is much different when you extract yourself from those screens you surround yourself with."

Miguel looks down at you with a scoff. "You think you're so funny," he glares, making you laugh. Your smile beaming brighter than the sun. "Okay," he nods, looking away with a hurt frown.

Your smile flattens out into a straight line as you look at him with a heightened eyebrow. "Come on. Miguel O'Hara is hurt by a little joke?" You say in a teasing tone. Miguel doesn't move.

"Come on, baby. You know I was joking."

You hug Miguel, tightening your hold around his arms. You stay there for a few seconds, not getting any type of response from the larger man before pulling out of the hug. You look up at Miguel seeing the playful glint in his eyes as a smile slowly appears. "Race ya," Miguel shouted. Before you could even reply, Miguel darted off, leaving you confused.

By the time you realized what was happening, Miguel was already on one of the many trails surrounding the park. You let out a loud groan, calling his name as you run after him.

You eventually caught up with the man. Miguel turned to look at you as you ran beside him, slightly out of breath, and chuckled. “Glad you could make it,” he joked, matching his speed to yours.

You gave Miguel a fake laugh, flipping him off in the process. “I can't believe you left me,” you said, trying to focus on your breathing as you talked.

“You wanted me to get away from the spider society. Away from all those screens. It’s not my fault that you chose something I’m clearly better than you at,” he laughed.

You gave Miguel an “Oh, really?” look and said, “Okay, Mr. Big Man. Let’s race. First one to that pole, up there, wins. If you win, you can go back to your dark office and wait for an anomaly to appear, with no human interactions or interruptions. If I win, you have to stay here with me, all night,” you bet, extending the ‘L’ in “all”.

“Okay. You’re on,” Miguel agreed.

“On 3. 1… 2. 3,” You said quickly before running off, just as Miguel had done to you earlier. Miguel heard the sound of your laugh from where you left him. He laughed himself before chasing after you.

In all honesty, Miguel was enjoying himself. He didn't want to go back to the Spider Society, not at this current moment. He wanted to stay here and have fun for just a little longer. Just seeing the smile on your face as you two ran freely through a park made Miguel feel something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Happiness.

The stress from the job of being Spiderman 2099 had left Miguel entirely as he sped up his movement, getting closer to you. You looked behind you, seeing Miguel catching up to you. A scream left your lips, causing the people around you to turn their heads toward you.

Your legs ran faster, hoping to get away from your boyfriend, but when you turned around, you realized that you were on the verge of running into a woman with a stroller. Your eyes went wide as you came to a screeching halt, almost tripping in the process.

The woman looked over at you confused. Your face was beaming red from all the running you had just experienced, and your heart was racing, leaving you with heavy breathing. The woman stopped walking, asking you if you were okay, to which you responded with, "No. No. I'm... good. I was just... racing my boyfriend. I was winning until... I accidentally almost bumped into you. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I was in the middle of the walkway. I should have known better, especially with this little one," the woman spoke, giving you a smile. You looked down at the baby in the stroller. It was a baby boy, and from the looks of it, he got most of his mother's features, which wasn't a bad thing. His mother was beautiful.

It made you wonder what it would be like if you and Miguel were to have a baby. Would they look like you or Miguel? Who's personality would they share? Would Miguel's obsession with the Spider Society, and keeping the universe safe, still be, or would he take more time to be a part of his family? Those and a hundred more questions ran through your head, all at once as you looked at the woman's baby.

Miguel saw the interaction between you and the woman. He saw you almost run into her, and he saw how you looked at the woman's baby. He's seen that look many times when Peter brought Mayday around, and that usually ended with you and him watching the Parker child.

Before, it made him sad that he couldn't give you what you wanted until his mission was complete. He couldn't risk losing you or the child that you both decided to have from something that he could have prevented. But being with you today made him realize that he was missing out on so much.

He realized that being spider people wasn't the only thing that made the two of you happy. There were plenty of things that Miguel was still learning, that made you happy. And now, he was fully prepared to give that to you. He was still going to fight hard to protect you, but spending time with you felt as if the today had awakened him to a bright future.

You and the woman finished up your conversation, sending each other quick goodbyes, before the woman started walking once more. She pushed the stroller to the side of the walkway, giving joggers or people moving quicker than her, space to go around her.

Miguel watched you as your head shifted from the woman to Miguel. You caught sight of the cheesy grin that he was wearing, replicating it, and moving closer to the man. Pulling yourself into the man, you let out a sigh and said, "Oh, I love babies."

Miguel laughed, adding a small "I know" as he held you in his arms.

"I hope one day we can start a family."

"Yeah? I could see a future with me, you, and a whole bunch of little spiders roaming around the place," Miguel spoke.

You looked up at the man, eyes beaming with happiness. "Really?" You asked him. He nodded, making your smile any bigger.

The two of you stayed in the hug for a few seconds before you removed your head from his chest, and his arms retracted from your waist. Giving your head a light scratch, your smile shifted to a frown. "I know you want to get back to the office. You a can go if you want. I'll probably head back to mine and take a shower and a nap before I go back."

Miguel's eyebrow lifted as he looked at you in confusion. "No," he shook his head. "I don't want to go back. I'll do anything you want to do, as long as I am with you," Miguel told the girl, as she looked up at him with admiring eyes.

"Okay," you beamed.

"Shall we head home, or would you like to finish our race?" You asked, earning a small "whatever you want."

"No. No. You definitely won that one, mi corazón."

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atinylittlepain · 2 months

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Part One

climbing expeditionist!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Past, present, and future dance and daunt in the shadows of Mount Everest. He just wants to get home. She just wants him home.

chapter warnings | 18+ angst, pregnancy, commentary on eco-tourism, steve is a little depresso at 17,000 feet

word count | 3.4K

a/n | this fic is pure self-indulgence, as a climber who thought they'd one day summit everest, and then realized it's been ruined by eco-tourism! anyways, parts of this fic closely follow the 1996 everest climbing disaster, with many key changes. thanks for reading, there's a fun little treat at the end too.

..............................................................

March 1996 - Colorado

“You’re gonna be late if you stick around any longer.”

“Don’t worry about that, honey. I’ll run if I have to, just give me a few more minutes with you.” He doesn’t get nervous, she knows, not about these things. He gets charming, all slanted smiles and soft touches, sneaking kisses as he rocks in the soles of his boots, plane ticket tucked between index and middle finger.

But she gets nervous. Even when they do these things together, let alone now with her staying behind and sending him off. Like watching her heart slip from her ribcage and tiptoe out onto a highwire with no net. With no net. So she gets nervous, and she tries to hide it from him, though she can feel her smile starting to slip the longer she stands here in the airport, throngs of people passing by in cloistered chaos.

“Did Robin make it out there alright?”

“Yeah, got a fax from her this morning, she’s already at basecamp getting stuff set up with the local guides. Hey, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Jo.”

“Steve.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and his hands curling over her forearms, leaning in, and in, and in, until his forehead is pressed against hers and she can no longer see the arrivals board, the people rushing by with suitcases and backpacks. Just him, and his smile that is everything, long hair like a curtain around them. She takes two deep breaths, smelling him, the badger balm he rubs into his hands and good clean soap from the shower he took that morning. And she wills herself to hold onto that scent, to tuck it somewhere safe in her mind, and this too, the soft warble of his voice when he asks her can I get one more kiss, please? Never saying no to that, a sweet simple one, followed by another with a little more want, little more ache behind it. He’ll have a beard the next time she sees him, she knows, but for now there’s just the slightest scratch of stubble when she presses her lips against his.

“Please don’t worry too much about me.” And that makes her laugh, though it tightens and changes into something bordering on a sob, a high, clipped sound, shake of her head, her forehead still against his, and she has to, she has to take the step back, create that space, has to let go for now. He doesn’t abide by that, hands curling around her biceps, come back, come back, one more minute. He’s wearing his wedding ring on a chain around his neck, too many close calls losing it in the snow, in pulling off a mitten, in the chaos of what he does, what they do. She hooks her finger through it and pulls, a young part of her wishing that’d be enough magic to make him stay.

“I don’t care what time it is there or here, you call me when you get to Kathmandu, and to Lukla, and to base, okay?”

“Of course I will, and you have the fax number. Gonna send me the scans?” His hand coming to rest over the slight swell of her stomach, still new, the small, hard curve of it, but there, but there. She feels like she might be sick, though she’s not sure why, not sure if it’s the pregnancy, or something else.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll send them over. But seriously, you better go.” They both sigh, both say love to each other, quiet and close, and then it’s catch and release, him walking toward security, beautiful boy, beautiful world of a person in his corduroy pants rolled at the ankles and a new fleece that she stitched a stupidly sweet heart into the tag of, a little thread of luck, and his pack that he prides himself on keeping so light. She snuck a few extra clif bars into one of the side pockets, a different kind of nesting, preparing for a departure instead of an arrival. He looks over his shoulder at her one more time, wire rimmed glasses glinting, one more smile, and then he’s gone in the push and pull of the crowd.

She knows the trip he’s about to take well, after all, she has done it five times herself. This will be his sixth. He’ll spend a night and a day in Kathmandu, gathering up the group of people who have enough money to pay him to be their guide. Eddie will be there too, his usual self, aviators and absurdly underdressed, and if there’s a woman in this season’s group, she'll swoon and yes, recognize him from the cover of Outside Magazine, climbing’s resident bad boy, according to the journalist that wrote the piece. They’ll be brilliant together, Steve and Eddie, capable, holding court over a shared dinner before their flight to Lukla the next morning, the group listening in quiet reverence as Steve talks about the death zone, and Eddie’s favorite line, when we hit 26 thou, we will literally be dying, so remember how much you paid to be here.

He calls her that night, a day ahead now, catches her mid-afternoon and tells her that he has a good feeling about this group. No bullshitters, no brass either as far as I can tell. Brass, the big talkers, usually Americans that have decided this trip, this thing, is their self-given right. Brass, usually the first to turn around. She tells him that the crib was delivered, and he asks her if she’ll wait to put it together, he’d like to help when he gets back. Of course, she says, of course she’ll wait for him.

A week and a half goes by before she hears from him again. She doesn’t know whether to be pissed or utterly paralyzed with fear. Robin faxes her, tells her he’s bringing the group to base, and that he asked her to tell her he’s sorry he didn’t call. And later, when the phone rings in the middle of the night, the petty part of her briefly considers letting it go to voicemail. She picks up and the first thing he offers her is an apology.

“I couldn’t find a fucking phone where we were staying.”

“I didn’t know what was happening, Steve, I can’t– you promised me.” The sentence fizzles out, she feels small saying it. What did he promise her? What can be promised in an environment, in a place that stands upon uncertainty? But still, he promised her a few things before he left, promised communication, promised coming home, and promised never doing it again, shutting down the outfit, no more of this. And she’s not sure he knew what it meant to make those promises, ones that can be so easily broken.

“It’s not gonna happen again, Josie, I promise. We made it to base, by the way, all good, all safe.” As if on cue, she hears Robin first, hey, Jo! Followed by Eddie’s not the same without you, Joey! Tinny voices made small by all the distance, and she realizes that while part of her misses the place, the process of it all, it’s the people she aches for, good people, good friends, a little crazy, but in the same way she is, and the same way Steve is. But he doesn’t seem too interested in sharing her with them, and she can’t blame him when every minute of this phone call costs twenty-five dollars.

“I’m glad you made it, how does it look this year?”

“Crowded, I swear there’s more outfits every year. It’s gonna be a cluster summiting with all these bodies.”

“Hmm, you’re always good at getting the jump though.”

“I try. How– how are you feeling? Doctor next Friday, right?”

“My Friday, your Saturday, yeah. We’re doing alright, they’ve been kicking actually.”

“Really?” Pure wonder crackling over the phone, his voice lifting and breathless, making tight heat curl up in her throat, behind her eyes. Of course, she wishes he were here, and of course, she thinks of the stories every year of wives leaving their husbands because they won’t stop chasing mountains.

When she told her friends, her family, that he was still heading out to lead another group, they had looked horrified at the idea. But she also knows it’s a particular situation they’re in. Unplanned, unexpected, but decidedly wanted, by the time they found out she was pregnant, payments had already been made, plane tickets booked, nonrefundable. Clients that know how to throw all of their weight around, very important people with very important wallets giving him their very important money to take them on this very important trip. And so they had to decide some things. Decided that two months out of nine wasn’t all that bad, that five successes couldn’t have just been luck, and that a sixth couldn’t be asking too much more. Thinking these things is different than feeling them, she is now realizing, listening to his voice get caught in static and wind as he tells her how much he loves her and that he’ll talk to her again soon, get some sleep, honey, I love you.

Yes, different to think about it, plan for it, than to feel it. The bedroom is dark, perfectly silent, perfectly still. She begins to cry with the catch of the phone in the receiver.

…

March, 1990 - base camp

“Who’s that?”

“Who?”

“That chick with Art’s group.”

“Don’t point, Steven, we’re all friends here. And that’s Jo Taylor, I met her at the airport, real nice, real cool. Also, requisite reminder that fucking at altitude is contraindicated.”

“Thanks, Rob, yeah, thank you for that reminder.” Robin’s already off as he grumbles, already introducing herself to other strangers weaving in between brightly colored tents and packs. It’s not lost on him that she and Jo are the only two women at base camp, and he’s having a hard time not staring at this woman he’s never met before. Close-cropped hair and flickering hands, sharp, and she seems to have no trouble holding court with her crew, checking over gear, tanks of oxygen, things he should be doing right now, though he’s still stuck staring at her.

Up here, it’s somehow both bitingly cold and quick to heat with the sun bouncing and bending over the snow, prayer flags pulled taut on lines in the thin air. Everyone has stripped down to base layers, faces whipped raw by the wind, Eddie walking around in a bright orange pair of Patagonia baggies and little else, steaming thermos in hand. And this girl, woman, person, Jo, in a Talking Heads t-shirt and an unzipped shell and leggings, and even with her reflective sunglasses on he can tell the exact moment when she catches him staring at her, her head tilting to the side, slight pull of her brow. He’s walking toward her, crunching over rocks and snow before he can think too hard about how she doesn’t really look interested in making friends with him.

“Hey, I don’t think we’ve met.” He gives her his name with a hand extended, and she takes it, if not a bit stiff, skeptical, offering him her name in return with her hip popped to the side. He watches his own nervous smile in the reflection of her sunglasses.

“You’re here with Art’s team, right?”

“I am, yeah. And you’re here with Robin?”

“And Ed, he’s, well, you’ve probably met him.”

“Oh yeah, we all know Munson. No oxygen on Mont Blanc is pretty impressive, or maybe stupid.”

“I’d say both.” Her smile glints in the sun, a little stunner of a thing and he knows he’d like to see it again.

“Both is probably accurate. I knew who you were too, by the way, you didn’t have to introduce yourself like that.”

“You did?”

“Of course, men’s speed record for El Cap. That’s just impressive if you ask me.”

“Men’s? As opposed to–”

“Women’s.”

“I didn’t know there was a women’s speed record for El Cap.” Her smile slants and she pushes her sunglasses up into her hair, eyes crinkling and squinting in the wind and the sun.

“There is, I hold it.”

“Oh, oh, I didn’t– you– I didn’t mean to–” Foot in his mouth and it might as well be down his throat with the way he’s stumbling over his words. She grins, gives his shoulder a squeeze and a shake.

“You’re fine, man, really, just teasing you a little. Is this your first time on Everest?”

“Yeah, you?” He’s not even standing that close to her, but he still notices a freckle somewhere between the round of her cheek and her eye, watches it jump with her smile. She nods, a glance over his shoulder to what awaits them in these next few weeks. A slog, a perfectly graceless suffering. A climb, a brilliant, beautiful thing.

“I’ll see you out on the Icefall, Harrington. It’s nice to meet you.”

…

March 1996 - base camp

“That reporter packed out a fucking espresso maker, can you believe this shit? It’s like goddamn Disney world up here.” Eddie says it just loud enough to garner him a few turned heads as he slumps down in his chair next to Steve, making quick work out of a mug full of instant ramen.

“I wouldn’t worry about her, Art will get her sorted out before they make it to camp two. I’m just worried there’s gonna be a jam up there. You ever think you’d see the day there’s a line to summit? Because right now, it’s looking like that’s exactly what we’re gonna have on our hands.”

“Any thoughts on how to avoid that?” He hums, pinching off another bite of his clif bar and working his jaw around it, looking out on what seems to be a veritable sea of tents. At least fifteen outfits this year, and all the ragtag debris they entail, lost-looking group members that probably have no business being up here, already hacking into the elbows of their expensive-looking jackets, camping chairs getting knocked over in the wind, boots tucked outside of tents, the sound and smells of human intervention in an otherwise silent landscape.

“I do, Rob’s not gonna like it though.”

“What am I not gonna like?” A hand on his shoulder, and then a face leaning upside-down over his, almost alien in her round, mirrored sunglasses.

“Do you know if the other outfits are planning for May tenth?”

“Yeah, as far as I know, same as us. Why?” Easy, all of them easy together, Robin sits down between their chairs, carabiner hooked full of keys jangling at her belt loop. She takes a bite of Eddie’s ramen when he offers her the fork and Eddie grins over the top of her head at Steve, cheshire bright in his thermal and leggings, and suddenly, he thinks, they’re sixteen again, driving cross country to go climb in Yellowstone with a few months worth of part-time job savings split between them.

“Stevie here wants to be first in line on the Everest Express.”

“It’s not about being first, it’s about not wanting people stuck up there longer than they need to be. If we could just get a couple days–”

“No.”

“Rob–”

“No, Steve. Everybody wants May tenth for a reason. The weather is looking good–”

“The weather is unpredictable and you know it.”

“And, these people need those days to get ready. You start shaving off days and that’s less time they’ll have been at altitude for the last push. This is just the way it is this year, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, and it’s getting worse every year. I really think we’re getting out at the right time, you know, picked the right year to have our last season.” Robin huffs, unfolding her legs and standing back up, shading them from the sun for a moment as she brushes off her cargo pants and runs a hand back through her hair.

“Look, I’ll take another pass at the weather. Maybe, and that’s a big maybe, we could swing May eighth. But I make no promises.” And then she’s off, wielding her walkie-talkie like a scepter, already rearranging plans in her mind as she ducks back into their comms tent.

He knows he’s frustrating her, bitching about everything, scowling about everything. Eddie had said as much during the first night at base, why are you being such a downer? We’re on a fucking mountain, at least sell it to the customers, man. And he’s right, they’re on a fucking mountain, and it’s beautiful, and it’s brutal, and it’s all the things he’s loved since he started backpacking as a kid. And there are good moments, there are, moments of looking out onto the landscape, the steep tumbling snow and gray slate crags, witchery in the dance and daunt of ice, the near painfully blue sky that can turn dark and mean in a breath. Moments of true awe, and still, still, he knows that he shouldn’t be here, not really.

Last year, there was a man in their outfit from Texas, brass. Steve can’t remember his name now, but what he can remember is what he admitted to the night before they headed out from base. Everyone had laughed except for Jo and the one other woman who was in their group, when the man confessed that he had forgotten to tell his wife he’d be gone for two months in the spring. And it had been Jo who had plainly asked him if he had any kids, her chin jutted, arms crossed over her chest, her usual all-smiles-all-jokes-but-all-business-lead-guide facade slipping away into something steely, something cold and unamused. Yes, the man had said, two, a boy and a girl. He doesn’t remember much more of that conversation, just that Jo excused herself early from dinner, and when he returned to their tent a little while later, she was already asleep with her back turned to him.

“You alright?”

“I don’t know, Ed. I’ll be good to lead though, that’s not a problem.”

“I didn’t ask if you’ll be good to lead, I asked if you’re alright.” Something tight turns in his chest, he keeps his eyes down on his hands, folding and unfolding the empty clif bar wrapper.

“Yes, no, I knew it was gonna be hard, but this is fucking– something else.” Eddie leans forward, elbows on his knees, brow furrowed, and he’s nodding, and it’s a look of concern. Steve hates it, never the one needing concern, never the one to be concerned about. The leader, right, level-headed, right, no need for concern.

“You talk to Jo today?”

“Last night, she asked if you packed out sticks of butter again this year.”

“Pfft, of course, a little American comfort at seventeen thousand feet goes a long way. How is she?”

“Doing alright, I think. Had the twenty-week scan on Friday.” He can’t help but smile thinking about it, and Eddie mirrors him, grin spreading and brows raising, oh yeah?

“She found out if it’s a boy or a girl, but she said she’s not gonna tell me until I get home.”

“Well, how about that for a little motivation, huh? I have to admit though, I miss her this year, not the same without her.” Eddie’s smile softens, slighter, sadder, a hand on Steve’s shoulder, and he feels his own face slacken, the ache returning.

“No, it’s not.” Not letting him fall for long, Eddie gracelessly shrugs his chair closer, arm hooking around Steve’s shoulders, cheek to cheek as he starts pointing out their clients.

“But, think of it this way–” He points to one man, him, another, him, one more, and him.

“Add those three up and you got yourself a nice little college fund.” At the very least, it feels good to laugh, resting his temple on Eddie’s shoulder, letting the sun be the sun, and the moment be the moment.

“Can’t argue with that.”

“We’re gonna climb that fucking thing on the eighth, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I think we are.”

“I’m with you all the way, man.” He holds his hand out for Steve, and it’s a relief, he finds, to clasp his hand, to hold onto something. And Eddie’s one last send? His smile turning young and slanted, a little wild. Steve nods. One last send.

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au #steve harrington imagine #honey baby love you be home soon

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boombrothersasks · 3 months

Note

Shadow! Eclipse needs you! You need to get back to normal and help your baby brother! Tikal, help him

"Oh! Did something go wrong?!" Tikal asked worriedly, and Shadow looked just as worried.

"Wa?" The hoglet then pointed back towards where everyone else was, signaling that was where he wanted to go. "That way!"

"Good idea!"

She quickly ran past, still holding baby Shadow, and rushed into the home where Eclipse and Tails were. She gained a few stares as this happened.

"What was that all about?" Rouge asked.

"I dunno...maybe he just wanted to see Clip?" Sonic replied.

"Or maybe they found the monster."

Sticks was now the center of attention.

"...What. Monster...?"

"You don't know...the legend of the gooslesnoop?"

"What is she talking about." The bat could only wonder.

"Don't worry, this is normal." Sonic answered simply. Rouge was left in silence.

"STOP SAYING SCARY STUFF!" Knuckles shouted. "It's not even spooky season!"

"I'LL CATCH IT ONE DAY!!"

"...Right. Anyway, how are you boy's doing with the...thing."

Rouge was left silent again.

"IT IS NOW ON FIRE."

"Yeah, I can see that, Omega...that's not good! WHAT IF THAT WAS THE REGULAR SIZE-INATOR THINGY?!"

"...It served its purpose, and now it's a cozy campfire."

"SONIC."

Screaming was heard from inside Sonic's shack.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Tails screamed, seeing a strange orange person holding baby Shadow, who looked somewhat afraid.

"HEY! YOU'D BETTER LET GO OF MY BROTHER!" Eclipse lifted his head to shout. "I MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO DO MUCH RIGHT NOW, BUT YOU CAN BET I'LL FIND A WAY TO IF THAT'S WHAT I NEED TO DO!"

"No no no! You misunderstand, I promise I don't mean any harm!" The girl said. "My name is Tikal! I was a ghost, but then I ate a cookie, and now I'm alive again, so I was playing with the little one here, but then we heard that his brother was in trouble and came back as fast as we could to make sure you were alright! And then-"

"A GHOST COME BACK TO LIFE?!" Tails interrupted. "FASCINATING!! I'D LOVE TO KNOW MORE!"

The echidna beamed. "Of course! Lemme tell you EVERYTHING!"

She set the hoglet down beside his Darkling brother, and Shadow looked at him with much sadness in his expression.

"Hey, Shadow. Sorry I haven't been paying a lot of attention to you...didn't mean it. Nothing's been going right! I wanted to be the best big brother to you, and I really thought I could be!"

Baby Shadow continued to frown, but curled up next to his brother in an attempt to make him feel better.

"This is gonna pain me to admit...but I'm already in pain, so who cares," he hesitated before grumbling. "Yeah, you were strict as the older brother, real strict, and you were annoying, and angry all the time, and obnoxious, and...I shouldn't be saying this to a BABY! Where am I even going with it?! I suck at this, don't I? I suck at everything. Just a big ol' suckish LOSER. Father would be just as ashamed...if he saw me now as the failure I am, it'd probably make sense, why he decided I wasn't good enough to keep..."

That?

That hurt the both of them.

For some reason, that was enough to make Shadow...angry.

Enough for him to rage.

Enough for him to...

"Don't you DARE SAY THAT NONSENSE!!"

Eclipse felt himself being swiftly lifted up and off the ground, only to meet face-to-face with someone else.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST SAY THAT AND LET IT PASS?! UTTER SUCH WORDS AND BELIEVE THEY WOULDN'T BE HEARD?! NO! I'M DONE! YOU ARE NOT USELESS, YOU DO NOT 'SUCK,' YOU ARE NOT A LOSER! GET THAT IN YOUR THICK SKULL OR ELSE WHEN WE GET BACK TO THE CAVE, I'M MAKING YOU TAKE A NAP!"

Shadow looked up, and found many eyes staring at him, Tails and some orange person next to him from inside this house he was for some reason in, and when he looked around, he saw team Sonic, watching from the door way.

"What are you idiots looking at?"

"I mean, besides the fact you're somehow not a baby anymore, did you...hear what you just said?" Sonic held in a laugh.

"What? What do you mean? What did I say?!"

"Aw, do you care about me, Shadow?"

It was then that Shadow became fully aware that he had grabbed his younger nuisance of a brother, only to drop him seconds after.

"OW! You know what actually sucks? You not being a bitty baby anymore! Now I can't teach you the ways of the Black Arms! You were a lot nicer, too...MY ANKLE IS BROKEN!!"

Shadow's usual look of rage only grew, immediately looking over at Sonic.

"...DUDE!" Sonic exclaimed, offended at the thing Shadow must've been trying to accuse him of.

"Don't you 'dude' me, you blue fake. I know what happened. You and Eclipse must've been out doing something stupid, as usual-"

"HEY!"

"When you dragged him into something that got him injured! Just as usual, getting him into even more danger than he already puts himself in. A bad influence..."

"I mean...we did race, Soni-"

"THAT WAS YOUR IDEA!!"

"NUH-UH!"

"I'm...intrigued." Tails said.

"As am I." Tikal nodded.

#we stan protective big bro shadow here #this ended up being LONG lmao #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #sth #sonic boom #boom!brothers au #sonic boom au #sonic au #boom!shadow #boom!tikal #boom!eclipse #boom!tails #boom!sonic #boom!rouge #boom!omega #boom!knuckles #sticks the badger #TIKAL REAL???? Count : 3/12

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nojey · 3 years

Text

impostor

quackity x streamer!reader

genre: fluff, crack

word count: 2,312 (my most so far 😳)

warning(s): (y/s/n) = your streamer name, (n/n) = nickname, cursing

synopsis: having a flirty personality was your nature, but when you use that to make a certain boy in your among us lobby blush, where does that leave you?

today was the day you were going to play among us with some of your friends, and new people you haven’t met yet. you were beyond excited to meet new people because that meant new friends, and new friends means new people to stream with. you hadn’t been able to make new friends recently because people always thought your flirty personality was too much to deal with and gave them mixed signals whether you wanted something more than just being friends. you genuinely didn’t have those intentions and it was something you were lowkey insecure about. your friends had assured you that it wasn’t your fault and it was just your personality but the new people you wanted to be friends with told you otherwise.

you had been streaming for the past 30 minutes waiting for someone to send the code in discord. talking to your chat about the lobby and who would be in it, “um the only people i know for sure are gonna be in it is poki, rae, sykkuno, corpse, and bretman. but rae did tell me that there would be some minecraft streamers,” you said lifting your eyebrows in a suggestive manner. your chat knew about you simping for minecraft streamers and they were excited for you, some of them warning you not to fall for one because they’ll just break your heart and flirt with each other.

you heard the notification from discord coming from rae, sending the among us code and you immediately started up the game. waiting a few seconds, you put in the code and saw you were one of the last people to join. you entered the vc and heard them talking. “hi everyone!” you said in a cheery voice, smiling as they all replied with a greeting. “i’m (y/s/n), but you guys can call me (n/n)” you said. waiting for everyone else you weren’t familiar with to introduce themselves. everyone did and you figured out that you were playing with not only poki, rae, sykkuno, corpse, and bretman but also dream, george, and karl. “who else are we waiting for?” you asked, noticing the 9/10 on the bottom of the among us screen. as you asked that you heard a very loud scream coming from your headphones. you winced at the sound but soon heard a “i have arrived!” coming from the same voice that did that very loud screech. “nice of you to finally join us quackity,” karl said. you recognized the voice as soon as you heard him say ‘i have arrived’ and your eyes went big. you muted yourself in the discord call and talked to your chat. “holy shit chat, it’s quackity. like quackity the guy i’ve been SIMPING over for the past few months, holy shit.” you said, very surprised to see your favorite minecraft streamer in the same among us lobby as you.

you unmuted and heard rae say, “surprise shawty!” and you immediately knew that she planned this. “who are we surprising?” george asked. “(y/n) is a very big fan of one of you guys.” poki said in a teasing voice. “oh who is it?” dream asked, sounding very curious. “it’s actuall-” you cut sykkuno off. “ah ha ha, *cough* *cough* *cough*, you guys, let’s start the game. ah ha my chat has been waiting for like an hour now.” “(y/n) bitch, you trying to change the subject?” bretman asked you. “oo now i’m curious too.” quackity said. you started blushing and your chat started teasing you. “mm i have no idea what you’re talking about bret, i just don’t want my lovely chat to keep waiting for this game. they’ve been looking forward to it as soon as they knew you would be in it. you know? bretman rock? singer, songwriter, actor, actress, athlete, activist, a scientist on the motherfucking side, the star of crystal of the day, and a coconut connoisseur. the baddest bitch out.” you said, hopefully distracting him from the previous topic. “okay bitch, just because you know i’m the baddest in this lobby; you’re off the hook.” everyone started laughing and as soon as it died down, dream screamed, “let’s get this game started!” rae then started the game and your adventure began.

the screen in front of you displayed “crewmate” and you were off to do your first task. you met up with sykkuno at the swipe card task and said “hey sykkuno!” he got startled and said, “oh! hey (y/n), swiping your card too?” “yessir! you know sykkuno, my chat always tells me to tell you that you should stop covering your smile whenever you laugh or smile in general and i agree with them. you have a very nice smile and you should show the world your pretty face.” you smiled. he laughed awkwardly, “oh thanks, (y/n)! i’ll- i’ll think about that. well. i’m off to my next task, bye (y/n)!” you bid goodbye to him as well and made your way toward electrical to find dream there alone. “oo dream, did you just hop out of that vent?” you asked, very much joking because he was on the 1 2 3 task, quite far away from the vent. “(y/n). are you serious? i am so far away from the vent! and you’re gonna sus me?” he said, faking offence. “well i don’t know. you do look sus just standing there for so long.” you said, putting up with the bit you guys were doing. “well what if you’re the one that hopped out of the vent? i had my task open and didn’t see you come in, why don’t you just kill me huh, (y/n)? kill me (y/n)!” you guys both started laughing and while you were in your fit of laughter, a body was called.

“oo what are you guys laughing about?” george asked. “oh nothing. dream was just peer pressuring me to kill him.” he laughed even harder and said, “i was not peer pressuring you! you were sussing me and i was just sussing you just as much!” you laughed a little more and commented, “you know dream, you have a really pretty voice, it’s very comforting.” “oh my god! is dream the guy you’re a big fan of?” karl asked, thinking he made the biggest discovery on earth. “it actually isn’t” poki said, making karl quiet down.

“anyways. who the fuck killed bretman?!” you asked, lowering your voice to sound more intimidating and finally looking at the screen to see bretman dead. your friends started laughing and corpse said, “i last saw him in o2 with quackity.” which made you a little embarrassed but you kept up with your act. “quackity, i swear to god if you killed the baddest bitch in this lobby you’re dead first whenever i’m imposter.” faking the same deep voice. quackity had started staggering his breath into his mic but finally let out, “i left him there and went to comms, it wasn’t me i swear!” and started to fake cry which made you let out a rambunctious laugh. “okay, okay. i believe it.” you said, still giggling a bit. “the thing is, i found his body in o2 and you were the last to see him, quackity.” rae said, still sussing quackity. “well, where was everyone?” you asked, hoping to get some sus off of him. “i know dream was with me in electrical.” sykkuno was in cafeteria, george and karl were in reactor, rae was obviously in o2 where she found bretman’s body, corpse was in lower engine, quackity in comms and poki was in admin. none of you really had any other susses other than quackity but you all decided to skip since it was only one kill and someone definitely could’ve vented into nav or something.

you started humming the tune to jesus in la by alec benjamin while on your way to electrical to finish your download. you then ran into corpse and started a conversation with him. “hi hi corpse!” and he responded with his signature, “what up baby” you giggled and replied, “my chat goes crazy every time you say that,” he laughed and asked, “if i say it more often do you think they’ll donate?” you laughed very loudly and said, “if they do, i’ll give you half of the donos” you guys both laughed and walked out of electrical to admin together and stayed together majority of the round till the lights got called. “corpse we have to stick together and don’t get gotted.” you said. but somehow along the way to electrical you lost him and just went straight to fix the lights. once you got there, sykkuno was already standing at the light panel but not fixing the lights. “sykkuno, why aren’t you fixing the lights?” you asked him. “oh i was, i just got here, haha.” he said, playing it off. as soon as you hit the last light switch, a body was called and it was dream. you looked to see that corpse and george also died.

“you guys kill bretman then you kill corpse?! who is the one to come face my wrath!” you said with an angry face that chat would probably screenshot or clip. everyone in the lobby started laughing and you held your serious face. “i’m not joking. i was with corpse until the lights got called then we got separated in storage. once i find out which one of you killed them, you better sleep with one eye open.” everyone started laughing even harder and even you cracked a small smile hearing all of them. “well i hate to say it but, i did see sykkuno last with dream.” poki said. “wha-what do you mean? i was in electrical fixing the lights right (y/n)? and i left dream near the beginning of the round” sykkuno replied. “i only saw you once i got there and you were taking a long time to fix them.” you said, hoping that you caught one of the killers. “but i told you that i just got there a few seconds before you.” he said in disbelief, thinking telling you that would help him. “you could’ve lied, sy,” you said, pulling out the nickname you had for him. “what?! me lie to you? i would never.” he said. “mm, he’s lying! he raises his voice a bit when he lies.” rae said, pointing out one of his tales. “that is true.” poki said, agreeing with what rae pointed out. “i can’t believe you would lie to me, sy!” you said. “just for that, i’m voting you.” you continued. “but we’re on 7! we don’t vote on 7,” rae said. “oops.” you said.

karl, and poki all voted with you on voting sykkuno out, leaving rae and quackity voting to skip but he ended up getting sent out of the airlock because sykkuno voted himself, thinking everyone would skip. you had hoped you really did get one of the impostors.

by this time you ended up just going by yourself and finishing your tasks. you haven’t seen anyone so you decided to go to security to spy on cams. no one was passing through until you saw quackity and he entered security and you both started talking. “hi quackity!” you said, very enthusiastic to be talking to your favorite mc streamer. “hi (y/n). how’s it going?” he asked. “well i can’t find anyone, no one has passed by the cameras other than you.” you said with your voice dripping in disappointment. “do you think we should go out and look for someone?” you asked. “no, we should just stay here and talk! we haven’t talked at all the whole game.” he said. “mm that’s true. so did you finish all your tasks?” you asked him. “no, BUT i do have a question for you ms. (y/n).” he said. you heart started beating faster, very anxious to hear what he had to ask. you hummed for him to continue and he asked, “who’s the guy you’re simping for?” you felt like your heart stopped but what you didn’t see was that he was blushing and reading his chat. “chat! i’m not simping! (y/n) is just very attractive, okay? there’s nothing i can do about that!” he said making a ‘>:(’ face, thinking he was muted. “you think i’m attractive?” you asked very shyly. “i- uh- what do you mea- i have no- what?” he stuttered and immediately killed you out of embarrassment. your screen then showed “defeat” and you gasped very loudly.

“quackity! what the fuck? i fucking knew it was you sykkuno!” everyone started laughing and you heard a ding coming from discord. you saw it was a private message to you from quackity.

quackity: yeah, i do think you’re really attractive ;)

“quackity, you simp! i can’t believe you killed me because of that. you could’ve just told me. i think you’re really attractive too and i’d like to get to know you off stream.” you said, giving a big smile only your chat could see. “awe! (y/n)’s smiling really big! look at their stream!” rae cooed. you covered your face and heard a dono for $50 from quackity, how about we go on a date ;). “i’d like that quackity.” you said in the vc call. “you can call me alex.” he said, smiling and blushing, and his chat teasing him.

-------

after hearing you and dream flirt in the meeting, quackity was determined to kill dream out of jealousy. once he did he heard you and corpse in electrical, staying a distance away and following you both but close enough to hear you and see you with his impostor vision. he called lights and made sure you wouldn’t be able to see him once he killed corpse.

#quackity #quackityhq #quackity x reader #quackity x streamer!reader #quackity imagine #quackity fluff #quackity crack #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fluff #mcyt crack #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp fluff #dream smp crack #impostor quackity

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cedricslover · 3 years

Note

can you write a oneshot with wolfstars daughter dating george

Here you go bestie<33 thank u for requesting!!

As a wolfstar shipper and a George girl myself😌, I hope you like this bestie<33

Pairings: Sirius x Remus, George x Fem! Reader

Warnings: some homophobia at the beginning, teasing Sirius Black lmaooo

Word Count: 2.4k

“You want a future with me?”

“Hello dear” you turned around and saw one of your fathers, “Dad!” you jumped and hugged him, you just got off the Hogwarts express, this would be your last summer break since you’re going to be seventh year the next time you step at Hogwarts.

“How’s my baby girl?” He looked at you as you broke the hug, you smiled at the sight of him “Doing great, where’s dad?” you looked around while he picked up your trunk, “Here!” you heard the voice of your other father and your heart jumped out of joy when you saw him, you ran to him and hugged him too.

“Here’s a chocolate for our princess” he handed you a bar of chocolate, “Remus! You ruined my moment with her, you should show up at the exit, not here, you’re ruining my quality time with our daughter!” suddenly Sirius was having a tantrum, not likely a tantrum actually, he was just whining.

“No” Remus answered and looked away while he bit into his own chocolate bar. You laughed at them, “Stop acting like kids” you said and linked your arms to theirs.

“Excuse us?” They both said in unison and looked at you, their forehead creasing that made you laugh even more.

“You may” you nodded while closing your eyes and your parents just looked at each other, and it seemed like they were blaming the other one as to why you are so sarcastic.

“Let’s just go home” you dragged them by the arms since theirs are still linked to yours. You giggled as you saw Sirius not even struggling while carrying your trunk and at the same time being dragged by his daughter, and giggled even more when you saw your other dad who was just eating his chocolate quietly while observing the surroundings.

You three were just like a happy family, parents picking up their child that came from a boarding school, if it weren’t just the ugly looks the people gave you.

It seems like Sirius was also bothered by how people looked at the three of you, seriously? Can’t they just manage their own business.

Remus on the other hand was like used to it, he didn’t show any bothered expression, he didn't want to feed their satisfaction. That is something you got from him, that’s why you just let the people be, but of course, Sirius being Sirius.

He removed his arms from your link and grabbed Remus' face and took a bite from the chocolate that was centimeters away from his lips-being that he was eating it, your eyes widened registering how did that happen so fast, your jaw dropped, and a smile slowly formed in your lips as you saw Remus turning scarlet.

“Gross” you removed your arm that was around Remus’ and walked past them, your smile didn’t left your lips as you see mixed reactions from the crowd at the station, some were smiling, some were confused, some were probably uncomfortable, and of course, the people who were obvious to be insulted or disgusted.

Needless to say, Sirius is your father, so you flicked those people who looked openly disgusted by them, they were sneering, frowning, and rolling their eyes.

“Fuck off git” you mouthed as you walk, turning to them while your middle fingers were greeting them.

“Good job princess” Sirius laughed and high fived you as you three arrived at the front of number 12 Grimmauld Place, you weren’t sure what was the good job for, is it for flicking those people off or for successfully apparating, you decided to shrug it off and just viewed the house, it was your father’s ancestral home, it was filled by terrible memories of his childhood but with you three living there, it was all buried deep down.

You unconsciously stared at the beautiful house that was concealed in the muggles eyes. You felt nostalgic seeing your dads walking towards the door, memories from your childhood appeared in front of you.

A girl in a yellow flowy dress, around the age of four, was running towards two men with their arms open wide, expecting that the little girl would run to them instead of the other, but what they didn’t expect was the little girl would run straight to the space between them and both hug them from the necks.

The little girl was giggling while her dads were teary eyed, that’s when they realized, she never had favorites, if she had the choice to not choose, she wouldn’t.

“Y/N?” Remus called you from the doorstep, his head was cocking from the door. “Oh!” you ran to the door “call me before dinner yeah?” you told Remus as you removed your shoes. You raised your gaze to him with flashing eyes and maintained eye contact, waiting for his answer.

“Alright” he replied to you, you felt sudden joy not even sure why but it did make you kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks!, Love you dad!” you shouted as you ran towards the stairs,

“HOW ABOUT ME?!” you heard Sirius who was probably at the kitchen doing Merlin knows what, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” you yelled while you ran the stairway.

“YOU BETTER BE NOT PREGNANT WITH THAT WEASLEY BOY’S CHILD Y/N!” Remus’ voice echoed and you laughed and stopped from entering your room and peeked down while holding at the stair rails.

“DON’T WORRY, I’M NOT PREGNANT!” you shouted back and you heard his sigh of relief, “YET!” you added and sprinted to your room and closed the door.

You heard both of their voices shouting your name. You cackle while heading to your study table, your room was cozy, it was filled with different drawings you made when you were a child, there was your very first black leather jacket that Sirius gave you before he bought you a bicycle, it was hanging from a corner, properly displayed, he was expecting you to like motorbikes like he did, and you did, you like riding motorbikes.

There was also your very first hair accessories that Remus bought for you, hair pins, hair clips, headbands, and many more. He was the one who likes to tidy you up, even before you make yourself dirty by running and riding the bike. Of course Remus struggled but thankfully, Lily did teach him a few hairstyles when they were teenagers, and the rest of his knowledge came from going to different hair salons just to ask how to style his daughter’s hair.

An owl bumped on your window that made your brows raise and shift your head to that direction.

“Errol?” you said the name of the owl and he dropped a letter to your hand before he headed to your table and lay down, acting very exhausted, of course to your utter panic you immediately got water and placed it in front of him. You sighed as he drank through the container, enough for him to drink.

While he relaxed you opened the letter.

Hello beautiful,

I’ll arrive there at six, see you.

Your husband,

George

You bit your lower lip and smiled, then you forgot, you haven’t told your dads yet. Without wasting any time, you apparated to the kitchen.

“Hey” you voice lingered behind their backs and they jumped, they turned their heads to you with wide eyes, “You don’t do that here” Sirius said while holding his chest, “I almost had a heart attack” he glared at you while you just tried to not laugh,

“You’re just getting old dad” you stated that made him glare at you more, Remus smiled very very sweetly at you, trying to bribe you to not say it “and you too” you smiled back, looking at their sour faces.

“Enough” Remus raised both of his hands and shaked it, trying to shoo you. “I was about to say that George’s arriving at si-” you didn’t have the chance to finish your sentence when someone knocked at the door.

“I’ll get it” you announced, you three were quite tensed as to who might be at the door, you weren’t expecting visitors this early, it wasn't 6 o'clock yet.

You opened the door, ready to run back to the kitchen if something goes wrong, but what greeted who was something-or someone, who had a mischievous smile, his red hair shining because of the sun, and his brown eyes gleaming at you.

“Hello dove” his smile became wider as he caught the perfect view of his girlfriend, her Y/H/C hair complimenting her skin, the eyes that were obviously shocked to see him, and the smile that slowly formed on her soft lips.

“George!” you mentioned his name when you processed who was standing in front of you, he gave you a peck on the lips before he grabbed your waist and pushed you carefully to the side so he can walk, “hello Sirs” he cleared his throat and rubbed both of his hand on his pants before giving your fathers a hand shake.

This would probably be their very first ‘formal’ meeting, they already met each other at Hogwarts, during the Triwizard tournament, but that wasn’t formal enough, unlike now.

George was scratching the back of his neck and was being really nervous, you just surveyed them, and when you noticed something it was too late because your mouth opened before you can even think twice

“Dad, you’re the smallest” you told Sirius that made the three of them look at you, firstly George was shaking his head slightly, trying to tell you that it was not the right time, then Remus was also looking at you, he was trying his best to cross his brows but you can see the ghost of smile that was in his face, on the other hand, Sirius was there shooting daggers at you with his eyes like you’re not his child, then he slowly looked at Remus and George.

George was obviously the tallest, but only an inch taller than Remus, while Sirius, he’s just not a six footer.

“I-uh come George let’s prepare the table” even though it was still early, you reached for George’s hand, still feeling the stares of your father, you wanted to laugh, so hard, but he might not buy you your favorite cereal, so you chose to suck it up.

“Why’d you do that?” George started talking as you fetched his wand and used it to prepare the table using magic, “it was my mouth’s fault, anyway, you told me you're arriving at six, it's not six yet” you answered and watched the floating plates and utensils.

“I was trying my best not to laugh dove, please don’t do that again in front of your parents, I might lose goodie points, and I meant six minutes not six o'clock” he chuckled as he hugged you from the back, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his chin on the top of your head.

“Even if you lose goodie points, I’ll still love you don’t worry” you faced him and cupped his face, his face that was always as perfect, those freckles that can make a constellation, his eyes that you would prefer to look at rather than the stars, and his hair that would always stand out.

It was like a magnetic pull, your faces was slowly getting nearer and nearer, almost there, the finish line, his lips onto yours, inches turned to an inch, heartbeats getting fast, and you can feel his breath, then his soft lips was supposed to be next

Not until someone cleared their throat that made you push George out of reflex.

“No snogging in this house, you understand that angel?” Sirius crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, “Yes dad” you replied, slightly embarrassed so you chose to continue to prepare the table while George can’t maintain eye contact with you or anyone in the room.

“Sorry dad” you walked to Sirius who was still in the entrance of the kitchen, surprisingly he smiled at you, “Yeah that’s for bullying me” he wrapped his arms over your shoulder “But about that almost kiss? I’m not mad don’t worry, we all kiss someone at some time” he added like it was just common sense for him to not get mad.

“I love you” you said out of the blue while you two watched Remus and George laughing at the dinner table, you rested your head on his chest, “I love you more princess” you felt him kiss the top of your head.

“Just walk with the boy outside while we clean here alright?” Remus looked at you and George, he tapped George’s shoulder before he turned his back to the both of you and be with Sirius who was still drinking wine at the table.

“Come on” George called you and touched your back to guide you, your eyes were still looking at your parents, mesmerized by their strong bond.

“Georgie?” you tried to get his attention while you two walked the dim lighted streets, only the flickering lamp posts and the moon were the sources of light.

“Hmm?” he was busy playing your hand, touching every bit of it, and even comparing it to his. “You think we would be like them?” you stopped on your tracks, feeling the night summer breeze brushing your skin, "Like who love?" He stared at you, now holding your hand firmly, "Sirius and Remus" you answered and tucked the few strands of hair that was bothering your face because of the wind, you looked at his eyes and saw amusement and adoration all over it.

“You’re asking me that?” a lopsided smile appeared on his face, you nodded slightly as an answer, “You’re thinking of marrying me?” he asked you again, now giving a full smile, you nodded again, “You," he pointed to you "want a future with me?” he pointed to himself, his eyes smiling the same as his lips, you nodded again, oblivious of how that made George’s inner monologues that was doubting what would happen with the both of you disappear, because who wouldn’t, you’re Y/N, raised by two amazing people, you’re beautiful, intelligent, bold, and many more that he would even consider you as perfect.

And you’re here, saying that you wanted a future with him.

Now, with the moon smiling at the both of you, the stars being your cheerleaders, your lips met, you hooked your arms around his neck while he cups your face with one hand and the other holding your waist.

At this night, two teenagers shared a kiss under a lamp post, during the summer of 1995.

#george weasley #george fabian weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley x reader #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #weasley twins #remus x sirius #dad Sirius #dad remus #wolfstar #lgbtq #harry potter boys

565 notes · View notes

gaiuswrites · 3 years

Text

Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

#yoga!din #I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL #modern!din #modern au #din djarin smut #din djarin x female oc #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #smut #mando x fem!reader #mando x you #mando x female oc #hurt/comfort #fanfic #one shot #star wars fanfic #pedro pascal #din djarin au

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writteninkat · 3 years

Text

Forever and Always | Bakugou x Reader

summary: "And I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called. And then I feel so low I can't feel nothing at all. And I flashback to when he said forever and always."

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: angst

a/n: i cried while writing this.

navigation

Eijirou's body is amazing; scultped abs, hard chest, chiseled arms and such broad shoulders. You watched as he did pull ups in front of you, with his back facing towards you. He lets go of the bars, turning around, smiling as he extends his hand. "Babe, can you pass me my towel please?"

"Babe, can you pass me my towel please?" Katsuki asks, sweat dripping down the side of his head, trailing down his neck, collar and chest before getting absorbed in his black tank top.

You throw him his towel, standing up from the bench. You lean forward, standing on your tippy toes to press your lips against his. The blond chuckles breathily, pouting a little, pressing his lips against yours.

Butterflies swarmed your tummy and you feel your heart skip a beat. This always happened whenever you kissed Katsuki. No matter how many times you've kissed him and no matter how long the both of you had been dating, he never failed to give you butterflies.

You feel someone step in front of you, snapping you out of your daze. You blink, looking up at the red head who's now taking his towel on his own.

"Ah, sorry babe. What were you saying?" You ask to which Eijirou shakes his head at. "It's okay, I got it." He wipes the sweat off his face, smiling brightly at you.

"Anyway, do you wanna go to that old ice cream parlor beside here? They don't have new flavors since like five years ago but I thought you might like a cone."

"I wanna go to that ice cream place beside the here." You pout, disregarding just how sweaty your boyfriend was as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "That's a bad habit, idiot. Stop pigging out right after hitting the gym." He laughs, flicking your forehead to which you knit your eyebrows at.

"Oh come on! They have a new flavor called 'blueberry cheesecake'! We should totally try it!" You whine, watching as your boyfriend packs his things in his gym bag. "You've eaten a blueberry cheesecake before, haven't you? Just imagine that but colder."

Despite what he said, he opens the door to the ice cream parlor for you. Sweat gone, the both of you had showered and changed your clothes before entering the cozy ice cream parlor.

The both of you sit by the window, looking out and enjoying the beautiful scenery of the mountains right behind the store.

You look back at your boyfriend who's sitting right in front of you, supposedly to tell him about the pretty bird you just saw, but stop once you saw how pretty he looked when he wasn't frowning or yelling.

Calm, softly smiling Katsuki Bakugou looking out and appreciating the beauty of nature. Your heart throbbed at the thought of how lucky you are to have him. Despite his harsh and loud nature towards others, he always gave off a different vibe when it came to you. He was much gentler, more careful with his choice of words and his actions.

His eyes flick towards you and he raises a brow. "Take a picture, it will last longer."

You smile, opening up your gallery to show off the many, many pictures you have of him stored in a secret album. You smile cheekily at him, "Already have a ton, thank you very much."

Katsuki smiles, chuckling as he shakes his head. "Idiot."

"Babe? You okay? You've been out of it since I asked you to hand me my towel, did I say something wrong?" You snap out of your daze once again, cursing at yourself. You look up at your boyfriend, smiling as you shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I think I need to head home and sleep. You have a meeting an hour from now, right? You should go." You press a kiss against Eijirou's cheek, smiling at him. "I'll wait for you at home."

You walk out of the gym, bag on your shoulder as you take a deep breath of fresh air in. You look up at the sky, frowning to see them all gray and cloudy. You begin walking down the road, looking around you.

The stores from before hadn't change at all. Especially-

"Ah! If it isn't my dear Y/n! Will you buy your usual caramel ice cream today too?" The old lady who runs the ice cream shop chirps at you, hands shaking as she grabs onto her cane to prevent herself from falling over.

"Granny! You know you can't be walking around, the doc said so!" Her granddaughter's voice is filled with concern as she places a hand below granny's elbow and on her back. She looks up at you, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry, I guess Alzheimer's also makes her forget she can't walk properly now?" She jokes, chuckling awkwardly. You smile, bowing your head.

You walk right past the ice cream parlor, oblivious to granny's pout to your declination of her invite. You stuff your hands in your pocket, looking up at the sky as you sigh. Before you know it, your gaze falls upon the top of your apartment building.

"I'm home! And guess what I got you!" You chirp, entering your apartment as you hold the white plastic bag full of food in your hand. The sound of quick padded footsteps make you giggle as you set the bag oncthe counter.

Katsuki appears right in front the kitchen, excited eyes and a wide grin across his face making you laugh. He quickly rummages through the contents of the bag, yelling in excitement as he pulls out a red ramen cup.

"Hell yeah, extra spicy!" He cheers, running over to you to pull you into a tight hug. "Thanks babe!" He presses multiple kisses on the top of your head before pulling away to start boiling his water.

"Hey! It's not even dinner time yet!" You jokingly frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You loved Seeing Katsuki like this; all bubbly and cheery and excited. Such a sweet and bright soul, you come to a conclusion that yes, you are definitely going to love this boy forever.

You walk right past the kitchen, body feeling heavy as you make your way inside your shared bedroom. You drop your bag onto the carpeted floors and find your legs leading you towards your walk-in closet.

You bend down, pulling out a locked box from underneath your hung clothes. You sit on the floor, pressing on the code to unlcok the box before pulling the lif open.

The contents inside caused your heart to clench.

Butterfly pins.

"Idiot, what are you doing?" Katsuki frowns, tilting his head up to look at you. Your brows knit together as you push his head back, forcing him to face front. "I'm making your hair pretty!" You huff, clipping on the butterfly pins onto his hair.

"My hair's already damn pretty even without the stupid hairpins!" He argues.

"Then I'm making it prettier so sit still!"

"Tsk," Katsuki rolls his eyes, "Then you better do an amazing job. Don't mess up, idiot."

"That'll be pretty hard to accomplish if you keep moving your darn head like that!"

"Hah?! What did you just say to me?!"

Sumigadawa Fireworks Festival Polaroid

"Quit tugging, idiot!" Katsuki yells but remains ignored as you push through the crowd. The fireworks display was going to start soon but you wanted to enjoy a Taiyaki as you watched the display.

You jump excitedly in place, still tugging at your boyfriend's sleeve as you pointed as the sweet snack. Katsuki sighs, pulling out his wallet. The both of you end up buying two pieces, one for each of you.

As you move to start going back to where the field was, Katsuki pulls you back. You lift a brow at him and he begin pulling you to the opposite direction, now it was him dragging you.

"Suki, where are we going? The fireworks display will start soon!" You yell through the loud crowd of people. "Tsk. I know, idiot. Just trust me!" He yells, as he continues pulling you towards a place with a bunch of trees. The two of you walk up a hil for quite some time and as you reached the top, you're panting and you can feel your back dampening at the sudden work out.

"What the heck are we-" The sound of fireworks cut you off. You immediately turn to your right, following the direction of the sound. Your eyes widen as a clear view of the fireworks explode in front of you.

As you stare up at the brightly colored night sky in awe, Katsuki smiles at your dumb face. The colors of the fireworks lit your face ever so beautifully. How did he get so lucky to have you?

Your hand grabs onto his arm as your other one points up at the sky, "Look! Look! That one's pretty!" You point at a pink one slowly disappearing into the night sky.

"Hah! Bet I can create better ones." Katsuki shows off.

"Oh really? Prove it."

And just like that, he opens his palm in front of you a small explosions are created, just like the fireworks. You smile, watching it was similar to watch a snow globe after shaking it.

As your eyes continue to watch Katsuki's mini fireworks, he oulls you out of your daze by cupping your cheek. You look up at him, raising your brows before smiling, leaning in.

His lips are soft, sweet and warm. You never want to part from them.

A Promise Ring.

/"Why won't you fucking listen to me?!" You yell from the top of your lungs, feeling them burn as your tears scortched your cheeks.

"There are already enough heroes out there! You don't need to go-"

"I need to, Y/n! God fucking dammit I need to! Because I'm a hero! Because it's my job, it's my duty to keep people safe. To risk my life keeping you all safe!" Katsuki yells back, slamming his suit case close as you stand there in front of him, weak and helpless.

"Izuku said your chances of surviving the war would be-"

"Baby, baby, look at me." Katsuki shushes, cupping your cheeks. He wipes your tears away as he looks into your eyes, red orbs looking back at you. Soft, gentle and hurt red orbs look back at you. "I'll be fine." He whispers.

You place your hands on top of his, closing your eyes as you let your tears fall, your lower lip shaking as you let out an unever breath. Katsuki presses his lips on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you.

"Take off your ring." He says, pulling away from the hug. You do as told, face still flushed as you haven't finished crying yet. With shaky hands, you take off your ring.

"Look inside it." Katsuki mutters.

You do as told, feeling your heart clench in your chest.

"What does it say?" He asks.

"Forever and always."

You sob on the floor, bringing your legs up to your chest as you recall the feeling of your world crushing the second you heard the news from Izuku.

Your body grew heavy as you fell to your knees, your tears streaming down your chest at his pained expression. He crouches down, placing a hand on your shoulder. You sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed, so loud your throat hurt.

Katsuki was your world. He meant everything to you. Now that he was gone, what do you have left to lose?

"He promised me!" You yell from the top of your lungs, "He promised to call me as soon as he was done! Why didn't he call?! Why hasn't he called yet?!" Your head throbbed as Izuku's geip on your shoulder tightened.

It wasn't just you who had lost a loved one, him and all your other friends, too. You banged your fist against your chest as you sobbed heavily, finding it difficult to breath, to take in the information that Katsuki was gone.

"I told him! I told him not to go!" You yelled right at Izuku, holding onto his shoulders. "Katsuki! My Katsuki! He's gone!" The pain you felt is unbearable, it's something you can't understand, it's something you never want to experience again.

"You promised me, forever and always!" You yell from the top of your lungs. "Where are you now? Why aren't you beside me? Where's my forever with you?" You sobbed, your tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably.

As you cry out your frustrations and anguish in one room, Eijirou sits in another room, face wet with his tears as he blubbered in the memory of his best friend.

It's times like these that you agree to David Jones; life went on, but it was never the same again.

#i cried like a lil b!tch so what #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #mha bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bakugou angst #mha imagines #mha angst #bnha angst #my hero angst #my hero academia angst #boku no hero angst

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beauvibaby · 3 years

Text

become a family – a.beauvillier

You hadn’t meant to keep Gia a secret from your childhood friend, really honestly, you two had just lost touch, and by the time you found out you were pregnant and her dad left, it felt wrong to reach out simply to tell him that. So you didn’t.

But when you found out you were relocating to New York, Long Island specifically. You knew you had no choice but to reach out, it only made sense, it felt wrong not too. “Mommy.” Gia whined, “play!” She demanded with a tilt of her chubby face, motioning to the Minnie Mouse tea set she had sprawled across your tiny unpacked apartment floor. “Just a second baby.” You assured her with a soft laugh, you read the message you had typed out, you let out a deep breath and pushed send before moving to join your daughter on the floor, forcing the thought of checking your phone to the back of your mind.

“Hey, Tito. I know we haven’t spoken in forever, but I’m moving to Long Island, with my daughter, I thought it’d be nice to meet up sometime. Hope all is well!”

When he got the notification from Instagram, both of you long having lost each other’s phone numbers, his heart stopped briefly, he scrambled to unlock his phone, Mat eyeing him suspiciously. Tito read the message at least five times before what you said had processed with him, he clicked on your profile, he hadn’t really paid much attention to your posts, and they were so far and few between, he scrolled to the first one that was baby related.

A picture of your sonogram in front of your crossed legs, your ready to pop stomach on display, “just me and you against the world baby girl.”

Tito’s heart clenched in his chest, guilt, curiosity and sadness running through him, he scrolled to the next, a simple black and white photo of Gia when she was born, the caption only being her date of birth. The next wasn’t for another six months or so, the two of you in a small apartment back home. “Gia and mommy’s first place!”

He went through them all quickly, up to the most recent, from just before you sent the message, you with Gia on your hip, the two and a half year old hanging on tightly to you with a giggle as you grinned at the camera, your keys hanging off your finger. “New beginnings…”

“Tito? Dude, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Mat finally spoke up, Tito nodded, “you remember, Y/N? Right?” He questioned his friend, Mat nodded, curiously. “She’s here.” Tito whispered, Mat raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean she's here?” “She moved to Long Island.”

***

You truthfully had forgotten to check your phone that night, you ended up putting Gia to bed late and you simply passed out right after. So when you woke, the memories came flooding back, you rushed to grab your phone, seeing a response on your Instagram.

“Long Island? A kid??? We definitely need to meet up, I’m dying to know everything. Missed you.”

Your heart returned to normal at his response, thankful that he was accepting and not shutting you out.

“Missed you too, you became a big shot! I’m taking Gia to a park down the street from my apartment today, I’ll send you the address if you want to come.”

That’s how you ended up here, pushing your daughter in the swing as she shrieked excitedly. Your laughter echoed through the remotely empty park, your attention solely on her as she had a nervous look on her face as the swing went a little higher, you slowed her down and she resumed her happy shouts. “Y/N.” Tito called, your head snapping in his direction, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets as he looked over at you with a grin, his eyes flickering between you and Gia. “Hi.” You grinned right back at him as he walked over to you, he wrapped his arms around you in a hug as he reached you, Gia slowly coming to a stop in the child swing. “Oh god, it’s been too long.” You spoke, voice muffled by his jacket. “Definitely.” He agreed easily, pulling away as Gia began to fuss. You pulled her out of the swing and she clung to you, eyeing him suspiciously, she was always particularly wary about men. “Hello.” He spoke softly to her, giving her a soft wave. She smiled weakly, hiding her face in your neck. “Say hi, Gia.” You whispered to her, she lifted her head, looking over at Tito who was still smiling fondly at her, “hi, Gia.” She spoke, sending you both into a fit of laughter. “We’re working on it.” You assured him through your giggles, your daughter dramatically hiding again. “That’s ok.” Tito assured you, noticing all the ways Gia resembled you.

“Lunch?” She whispered to you, wiggling to get down, “yes, let’s go.” You led her over to the covered portion of the park, where you had left your things, Tito followed behind you, holding in a chuckle at the way Gia happily ran towards the table, swinging her arms for exaggeration. You sat her up on the bench, sitting beside her and Tito sat across from the two of you, watching you silently, “how have you been?” You started speaking, feeling your skin warm up under his gaze. “Good, yeah, I’ve been good.” He answered, “what about you? Been busy I see.” He joked, Gia glanced up at him as she took a bite of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Yeah, she keeps me on my toes, in the best possible way.” You smiled at your daughter, she happily minded her own business, clueless to half the stuff you two spoke about. You told him about her dad, only using his name so she wouldn’t be confused, already learning that she didn’t have the two parents that some of her other friends have.

Jesse, you never expected him to work out long term, but you never expected to get pregnant either. Long story short, you told him and you gave him the option to not be involved, but he had to be committed to being a co parent or nothing at all. He chose the latter, and never looked back.

“That’s-“ “it’s good, I think, he wouldn’t have been able to stay committed.” You cut Tito off, not needing the apology speech again. He nodded, moving past the subject, a large grin started etching across his face as Gia tugged on your sleeve. You leaned down and smiled as she whispered to the best of her ability, “share?” She asked you, Tito cocked his head to the side as you nodded and leaned away. Gia grabbed one of her fruit gummies and held it out to Tito. “Share.” She mumbled cutely, smiling shyly with her head tilted down a little, just like you do. Tito gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart, “thank you!” He took it from her and popped it in his mouth, earning a genuine laugh from her that made his heart sore. Already so in love with your daughter and wanting nothing but the best for both of you. She tried to offer him more but he sweetly told her no, and that she should eat her lunch, she listened and continued snacking away. “Has she been to a game?” Tito asked you with a wicked grin, “no, actually, I haven’t been to a game since I had her.” You admitted, cringing as he gaped at you, muttering in French under his breath.

“I’m getting you tickets.” He spoke, already pulling his phone out, “what? No, Tito.” You rushed feeling guilty,

“Yes.” He stuck his tongue out at you, typing away on his phone before asking for your phone number to send you the info. You gave it to him, knowing he would just be stubborn anyways. “Thank you. Really. She’ll have a blast, I’m sure.” You spoke as you opened your phone to look at what he sent you, “Anthony!” You scolded, Gia jumping in her spot next to you, “Y/N!” He mimicked, giggling at your daughter who glared at him. “That’s too much, those seats are–“ “Those seats are necessary.” He cut you off, “it’s final. No take backs.” He teased, much like he did when the two of you were younger. You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile, “fine, you better win, for her.” You told him, motioning to Gia who was getting sleepier by the second. “I should take her home.” You added as she yawned, her head resting against her arms on the table. He smiled at her eyes fluttering shut, “yeah, but I’ll see you at the game, right?” He raised an eyebrow as he stood up, you nodded, moving to give him a hug goodbye.

You watched with a bursting heart as he pushed some of Gia’s hair back, leaving a feathery light kiss to her full cheek, “bye, sweetheart.” He whispered, she whined, nestling further into herself. You wiped at your eyes once he was no longer facing you, the sight before you simply pulling on your heart strings.

***

You adjusted the jerseys on yours and Gia’s bodies, the both of you wearing jeans with them. She smiled at the excitement on your face, “do you remember mommy’s friend we met yesterday, Tito?” You questioned her as you walked hand in hand to the elevator, she looked up at you curiously, “we’re going to see him do his job, you get to watch them play hockey.” You explained to her, she simply smiled, all oblivious to what you meant, but she got excited because you were excited. “Teo.” She spoke, an attempt at his name, not very good but adorable nonetheless. You whipped your phone out, squatting down in the elevator, you started recording her, “who are we going to see?” You asked her, she shook her head happily, her pigtails bouncing around, “teo!” She said proudly, clapping for herself. “Tito, good job.” You praised her before ending the clip, you sent it to him with a thumbs up before continuing to acknowledge Gia’s babbling.

He responded quicker than you thought he would, “I guess I’ve grown on her.” He sent a heart afterwards, presumably putting his phone away for the night to prepare for the game.

Gia whined as she clung to you, terrified of all the people surrounding the both of you, “it’s alright honey.” You shushed her as you slowly inched forward in the line, she nodded against you, arms wrapped around your neck and legs trying to wrap around your waist. You thanked the person as they scanned your tickets, letting you two begin the journey to your overpriced glass side seats. You were relieved to see they had already begun warm ups so she would be distracted by them, once she adjusted to her surroundings you knew she’d be fine. “Look baby, see how fast they go.” You held her up, pointing out to the ice, she instantly became mesmerized by them whizzing by. You sighed in relief as you tried to spot the oh so familiar number 18. The two of you wearing jerseys with his name, something you knew he would get a charge out of, as long as you could remember, you would wear his number to his games. And now would be no different.

You spotted him at the same time he spotted you, a bright smile coming over his face as he flicked a puck up and caught it in his hand, skating over to you. He waved at you and Gia and she grinned, recognizing him and suddenly no longer being shy as she tapped on the glass with an amused smile. “Hi!” She shrieked, earning a laugh from him. He motioned the puck in his hand and you nodded, easily catching it as he tossed it over, handing it to Gia who stared at it in amazement, “good luck.” You mouthed, fist bumping the glass like you did as a teenager, he grinned and did the same before skating off, some of his friends nudging him and asking questions as you settled into your seat for the night.

Gia enjoyed the game and the loud sounds more than you thought she would, she adjusted quickly to the slamming of the boards, if anything, you think that may have been her favorite part.

Once the game was over, you were directed by Tito to tell one of the arena employees your name and they’d bring you down to see him. Much to your surprise, it worked, Gia was antsy to be let down to run around, and thankfully the person leading you through the huge building was a sweet young girl, probably your age, who was just absolutely loving Gia. “Just go to the right, and stop at the double doors.” She explained to you as the elevator came to a stop, “thank you.” You smiled, ushering Gia onto the concrete floor, her laughter echoing as she had some room to run around and burn up some of her energy. You were speed walking behind her just to keep up with her little legs, “baby, hang on!” You called, sighing as you rushed to grab her, just in time too as the doors opened and a couple of guys walked out, thankfully Tito was one of them. “Hey.” You breathed out, Gia looked over, “teo!” She ran over to him, putting her arms up, he looked at you for approval, “oh, of course.” You gave him a look, as if you wouldn’t trust him with your daughter. He easily lifted her up, smile widening when she wrapped her little arms around him. A stark difference to her greeting yesterday. “You must be, Y/N.” One of them spoke to you as Gia began babbling to Tito who nodded along enthusiastically. “I am.” You responded, shaking his hand, “Mat.” He grinned, you nodded knowingly, “I know, I follow the sport.” You teased him, earning a snicker from Tito as he walked over to you. “Hey.” He mumbled, giving you a one armed hug as Gia refused to leave his hold. You lightly tickled your daughter as she hid in his neck from all the other guys. “You played good.” You assured him, he smiled softly in return before introducing you to some of his teammates, laughing when you became all shy, staying close to him and your daughter. You answered all the questions they threw at you, not noticing Gia was drifting off on Tito’s shoulder until she was already out like a light.

***

It’s been about 6 weeks since that game, the season kicking into full gear, Tito traveling very often but still coming over to see you guys when he wasn’t on the road, and today, he was coming over for the first time in two weeks, and Gia had no idea. The relationship between them was more than you could ever ask for, even yours and Tito’s relationship had changed, it wasn’t even spoken, it just happened, one night as he was leaving after you put Gia down. You leaned up to kiss his cheek but he turned, not knowing what you were doing. You both jumped back, muttering apologies, but you kept your hands on his chest, slowly you inched back together, your lips coming together softly.

Then it became more often, sneaking in kisses here or there, I miss you texts, phone calls. And now, now you were bouncing with excitement just to see him.

Tito knocked on the door with a wide smile, excited to see his two favorite girls, that thought running through his head the whole trip back, in his mind, he wanted to call you his, but he knew he hadn't even spoken to you about what this was.

You rushed over to open the door, Gia only just waking from her nap, “hi.” You whispered immediately being engulfed in his arms, yours going to wrap around his neck. “I missed you.” He admitted into your hair, kissing the side of your head, “I missed you too.” You assured him, leaning away to meet his eyes, something went unspoken between you two as he pulled you in for a kiss. This one was different though, more powerful than the rest had been. You sighed against him, melting into his hold as you kissed him back slowly, not wanting to rush the moment. “Tito.” You went to speak after you pulled back to breathe, “yeah, I know.” He murmured, pecking your lips again before finally stepping all the way inside. “Is she sleeping?” He frowned, wanting to see her, “she’s starting to wake up, I heard her fussing.” You explained, neither of you making any effort to untangle yourselves. “Would you want to go out with me sometime? Like a date.” Tito asked, you nodded instantly, “can’t we just count all the times you’ve stayed over here late as dates?” You teased, instantly making him relax. “Well, then I think it’s fine if I do this, as much as I want.” He joked, kissing you again, squeezing your hips.

“I think so too.” You agreed, pulling away once you heard Gia climbing out of her bed. “Gia, I have a surprise!” You called, hearing her giggle and run down the hall, she saw you and then she saw Tito standing beside you. What neither of you expected was the word about to come out of her mouth, “daddy!” You nearly passed out right there, literally swaying and having to grip Tito for stability. She hugged his legs, looking up at him with a grin. “Tito.” He corrected her gently, lifting her up once you regained your composure. “Hi, sweet girl.” He tickled her sides as he hugged her tightly, her laughter filling the room, you smiled at the sight, hoping that one day this would become a reality.

****

“Rough day?” You questioned Gia as she dramatically huffed and sat at the kitchen counter beside her sister. “Yes.” Gia spoke with a sigh, you held back your laughter, knowing that 1st grade could just be oh so difficult, Tito walked in a moment after with her backpack and lunch box, smiling at you as you held the two month old to your chest. He walked over to the girls, laughing at the bored expression on Gia’s face as she watched her two year old sister munch away on her fruit, “hi princess.” Tito greeted Sadie with a kiss to the head, before making his way over to you, kissing your lips and whispering a hello before taking the baby from you. He smiled as Cade gripped his finger tightly, looking up at his dad with the bright blue eyes that they shared. “Daddy, can we go for ice cream tonight?” Gia pouted at him, using the look she got from you that made him cave immediately. He glanced at you, who nodded, “only because it’s friday.” He pointed an accusing finger at her, watching as her annoyed expression broke into a smile. “Thank you!” She sang happily bounding to her room upstairs. You laughed at the sigh he let out, “Aw, did you have a rough day too, honey?” You teased, resting your head on his chest as he wrapped his free arm around you, Sadie coughing for attention and succeeding as you both looked over to make sure she wasn’t choking. She only smiled, Tito’s smile as she continued to eat her blueberries slowly, you glared lightly at her as she giggled. “I did have a rough day, thanks for asking.” He mused.

“My wife didn’t text me once all day.” He pouted at you, “I’m so sorry, I assumed you would be busy working and all.” You laughed at him, cupping his stubbled jaw, “how ever did you survive?” You asked with fake concern. “I’m not really sure. But I did, and I lived long enough to pick her up from school, I’ve earned my ice cream.” He quipped.

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo

#anthony beauvillier imagine #anthony beauvillier #Anthony Beauvillier fic #tito beauvillier imagine #Tito Beauvillier

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a-jynx · 3 years

Text

:0 uh more Dream smp stuff?? cause y’all liked the other one??? (Georgenotfound edition & kinda long)

being Dream’s sister was rough already so imagine how tough life gets when you start dating one of his besties???

you met george through dream - obviously - and well.. putting it kindly, you hated each other. I mean, HATED each other! It always became a rivalry between you two, shooting down one another’s video ideas and never compromising until Sap or Dream stepped in.

“why do you hate him?” dream groaned as he watched you dislike ANOTHER Georgenotfound video. you glanced up at your freakishly tall brother before scoffing

“because he’s a spoilt brat and.. and he shouldn’t expect everyone to grovel like you do.” you scoffed, as Dream groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“y/n,”

“nope, nuh-uh you green tellatubby i’m not befriending him.”

“you’ve been hanging out with techno and tommy on discord too much.. Anyway, just.. please TRY and get along with him? at least pretend for a little bit - the fans get all protective and will baby him before they defend you..” dream’s voice trailed as he sat next to you, making you huff.

“ofc they’d baby him.. and it’ll be fine - I’ll be fine, Clay! I’m a big kid, some trolls on the internet won’t upset me.” you grinned, wrapping an arm around your little brother’s shoulders. he rolled his eyes before poking his index into your ribs, causing you to yelp.

“okay, but i warned you and i’ll try and help if stuff gets too much, okay? remember you’re my sister.. i still worry about you.”

“okay, don’t get sappy you waking tree! we have a stream to start,”

which lead to now.. A Geoguesser and Jack Box stream with the Dream Team ft. y/nwasnttaken - it started out awesome! The chat was having a blast having their boys stream, the guys were happy to be streaming, and you were having a great time.. until George came after you for guessing the wrong country..

“seriously, y/n?? you were, like, a million miles away!” george snorted as sap and dream joined in the laughter, you sighed before faking a short laugh.

“please, you usually suck at this game and it was one bad guess while you’ve been guessing wrong foe the past five minutes.” you couldn’t hold back the slight venom in your voice as the discord grew an awkward silence as chat began to grumble about the sudden change in atmosphere.

“chill, y/n/n, i don’t think George had an real issue, right Gogy?” sap nervously chuckled, he knew just as well as dream that for some reason you and george were always at one another’s throat.

“yeah, i had to ill intent, it’s called playful banter, y/n lighten up, honey,”

“is this just go after y/n day or what? i don’t mean to be an asshole but you’ve been after me the entire stream! and maybe the fans and you guys don’t care, but it’s hard to act like im not affected by you constantly bashing me and then laughing when dream or sap - or even yourself - get it wrong!” you grew quiet once your piece was out in the air, your heart was pounding against your ribs and you felt like you were going to be sick. “i..”

“y/n/n,”

“no! no, it’s… im just going to go, you guys have a good stream.” you quickly exited the discord call, closing out of all your tabs and leaving yourself to stare at your shrunk form.. oh shit..

you grabbed your phone and opened Twitter, a mistake honestly, it was already trending.. clips, screenshots, and the #nightmareofasibling in the US. you gawked at the screen - tapping the hashtag, you should’ve listened to Dream..

‘i knew they were lousy but my god it’s a game..’

‘they always act like they’re better when they aren’t, poor gogy 💔😔’

‘i feel bad for dream and sapnap - they have to live with that 😳’

‘@y/nwasnttaken you disgust me and i can’t believe they even tolerate you. rot’

each @, each tweet was one wishing for your demise or saying that the dream team deserves better. maybe they’re right but you had a right to stand up for yourself! sure.. it was a over a geoguesser game but dealing with that for an hour in a half, anyone would be tired of it.

tears were already starting to drip as you hastily wiped at your cheeks, attempting to keep the water works at bay. it got harder when a ping went off from your phone, indicting another tweet was made at you. even with your blurred vision you frowned as @GeorgeNotFound popped up.

‘Regarding the stream, I do not hate y/n. Nor do I want hate sent to them. I will not tolerate any of my fans hating on one of my friends, it was partly my fault for antagonize them.

I care for them deeply and I hope they know how sorry I actually feel and the guilt rushing through me while I write this. I hope you can forgive me, sweets.. @y/nwasnttaken’

you hiccuped a laugh, a small smile breaking across your lips. you liked the tweet before heading to discord to find your messages had been blown up - Niki, Wilbur, and George had sent you multiple messages asking how you were. Selecting George’s messages, you grinned..

‘y/n?? hey come back to the stream’

‘i was kidding, come on, this is how we work..’

‘okay, i’m starting to get freaked out cause you’re not answering and twitter is spamming- shit i need to fix’

the messages had stopped for a few minute before a small video was sent, showing george in his recording room.

“y/n i’m honestly really sorry, it was dumb of me to keep poking at you when you looked and sounded like you didn’t like it - it’s just.. that’s how we’ve always been! i just.. please message me when you can? i know dream’s already pissed at me, and sap won’t stop threatening me to fix this now - even though they laughed too - BESIDES the point… just message me soon?” he sheepishly sent the camera a small smile, his cheeks and nose a slight red. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes before quickly typing him.

‘y’know i have half a mind to be pissed at you, but.. i’m sorry too. i should’ve have blown up at you or the others, especially on stream.. can - can we hop on call and sort this out?’

Gogster is typing… Popped up instantly, making a smile flash across your face. Suddenly a call chimed in, making you jump slightly before clearing your throat and answering the video call.

“Y/N!! Oh my god, you answered- ah, i’m so sorry I just, teasing each other and acting like we hate each other was always our act and I know i pushed it too far on stream,” George continued to ramble as you shook your head.

“George, Gogy you’re rambling..” you mumbled as he looked back at the camera, clearing his throat with a sheep smile on his face.

“uh, sorry.. look, can we just.. try again?” he muttered as you broke into a dazzling smile.

“we can, but I still get to call you Gogster..”

George broke into a loud laugh, you joining in with his contagious giggle. He nodded, clearing his throat again as he sighed gently.

“That’s all i ask, y/n.. but can i tell you something? dream and sap have been nagging me for the last couple of months to mention this..” His voice trailed as you nodded, rolling your shoulders and sinking further into your chair.

“i may not get along with you, British brat.. but you can always talk to me,” you smirk as George coughs out a laugh, shaking his head as you broke into a grin.

“you’re jealous that I have a hot accent, but seriously.. i.. Y/N I’ve liked you for a while and I’d like for us to try,” his voice trailed out as you blinked, staring at the dark brunette before giggling.

“i.. i actually have a trip coming up, to come see Niki and Wilbur.. I wouldn’t mind adding another person.” You trailed, sheepishly glancing at George as a large smile broke across his face, making you giggle as he quickly nods and laughs.

“Wait, really?! But- But we always- We.. Oh my gosh!” safe to say.. George was at a lost for words and you couldn’t help but be excited for these next two weeks to fly by..

and ofc dream and drista and sap made bets - dream bet you guys would date because of drama, drista just bet that you’d go on a date but would want to kill each other, and sapnap bet you guys would want to instantly date - some were more right than others, but in the end,.. Y/nistaken & Georgewasfound became trending and knocked the harmful trends down

#georgenotfound #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound x reader #gnf imagine #gnf #dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp #dsmp x y/n #dsmp #georgenotfound dsmp #mcyt gnf #hc???

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chiliiscereal · 3 years

Text

Rottmnt headcanon:

The boys with an S/o that’s terrible at basketball

Raphael:

-sweetest boi when he finds out you’re terrible at basketball

-surprised you hadn’t even mentioned it before

-“did you think I’d make fun of you? Raph doesn’t make fun of people for not knowin’ how to do somethin’!”

-offers to teach you one on one

-denied every time

-basketball isn’t something you felt you could learn!

-“please let me teach you!”

-“no.”

-“pleaaaaaaseeee?”

-“no.”

-after weeks of bugging and bugging he finally gets you to say yes

-Definitely invested in making sure you learn how to play right

-this guy will pull up YouTube videos and NBA clips just so you can become an expert on the game

-will take you to the basketball court at night

-brings water for the both of you to every practice

-is the type of guy to stand behind you and correct how you’re holding the ball before you try to take your shot

-does whatever it takes to make sure Leo isn’t there while you’re learning and progressing

-will even hide that he’s teaching you in the first place

-trust him, Leo can sniff out amateur basketball players

-“Leo’s just gonna rub his skills in your face! Trust me, you don’t want him to know.”

-loves how far you’ve come and will celebrate every little victory you make

-will go easy on you when you have your first 1 v 1

-he’s the biggest cheerleader whenever you score, even if it’s against him

-never once makes fun of you for tripping over your feet or for your lousy aiming

-after a few more games against him, you finally won

-sure it was by one point but that’s okay!

-this boy lifts you off your feet in a huge bear hug to celebrate your victory

-finally, you’re ready to be involved in a turtle family game

-Raph will make sure you’re on his team so he can pass you the ball and let you show off how good you’ve gotten

-feels a sense of pride whenever you get a basket

-especially when it’s YOU dancing in Leo’s face once the game has been won

Leonardo:

-oh boy you’re really in for it

-you knew from the start of your relationship that Leo was amazing at basketball

-you ALSO knew he was a huge gloater and loved teasing people

-you didn’t need to be Einstein to figure that out

-you didn’t want him to know that you were terrible at it!

-“wanna play with us? You can be on myyyyyy teaaaaaam~”

-“Sorry can’t play! I twisted my ankle earlier!”

-“hey we need another player!”

-“I just remembered I have to be at a birthday party in like, two minutes.”

“Donnie quit wanna take his place?”

-“I think Splinter needs help organizing his ‘do not touch’ shelf. You guys go ahead!”

-it never bothered Leo

-well... not at first

-you would stay and watch their games only to jet once he invited you onto the court!

-he began to pressure you to play

-that includes begging, dragging you to the court, and even picking you up and physically placing you there himself

-it was easier just to give in

-you decided you’d just play a game and get it over with

-maybe even just sticking to passing it to other people

-...until Leo picked up on it and started passing you the ball more often

-especially when you were close to hoop

-“you got this babe!”

-he realized moments after you took the shot that you very much did NOT

-the ball fell short of the hoop by about three feet

-oh you never heard the end of it from there

-at the next game you guys played, he made sure to be on the other team

-“ready to smoke y/n, Donnie?”

-“you mean ‘am I ready for you to bounce the ball off my face again?’

-“yeah!”

-“then no.”

-“that’s EXACTLY what I wanna hear!”

-Leo made sure you were involved in the game the whole time

-it didn’t help your pride when he assigned himself the position of guarding you

-lots and lots of showing off

-even jumping over you to slam dunk it

-you, Mikey, and Raph didn’t stand a chance

-you had enough when Leo won and started dancing

-“I’m just... I’m just gonna head home. It’s getting late anyway.”

-he ran after you right away

-“hey what’s wrong? You didn’t have fun?”

-“kind of hard to have fun when you’re constantly shoving how bad I am in my face!”

-“it’s just how I play the game!”

-“Leo, I love you, but when you act like that then I don’t enjoy playing the game.”

-trying to walk away from him after that proved an impossible task

-“look, I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean for you to feel that way! I just wanted you to see how good I was. That’s all.”

-turns out it’s very hard to stay mad at Leo

-especially when he’s got your hand in his and giant sad puppy eyes

-“alright, I forgive you.”

Donatello:

-initially thought you were just being humble when you said you were terrible

-you were probably just trying to make him feel better about himself

-you saw how he played!

-but...he was very very wrong

-he first found out how bad you really were when Leo invited you to play a game with them at the court that night

-you really were terrible

-he watched you shoot the ball only for it to go about five feet off course

-torn between feeling bad for you when Leo gloats and feeling happy that he’s not the only one that sucks at the game

-pulls you away from Leo before you can deck him in the face

-“hey hey hey there’s time to punch him later.”

-doesn’t bring up how much you suck at basketball

-he knows it’s not fun

-“oh I didn’t even notice! No, not even when you accidentally passed the ball to Leo. Nope.”

-instead, will try to draw the attention away from you

-everyone already knows he’s terrible at the game, and since they’re brothers, he’ll be an easier and more desirable target for teasing

-won’t even bother trying to aim when you’re around

-shouts “transfer it!” Even if he’s being guarded

-you know what he’s doing though

-“are you doing that on purpose?”

-“why would I do such a thing? I would never!”

-“you totally are!”

-“I’m offended you would suggest such a thing.”

-becomes a silent competition to see who can be the worst at basketball

-knowing Donnie, he’s not gonna go down without a fight

-but neither are you

-everyone feels bad for Mikey for always being stuck on a team with you two

-well, sucks to be him

-maybe Mikey should actually figure out how to play Rock Paper Scissors when you’re all deciding teams

-all that matters to your two though is that you’re both having fun being terrible together

Mikey:

-didn’t even realize you were bad at it to be honest

-sure, you missed the hoop by like a mile every game, but he never said anything about it!

-only realized your terrible when you actually bring it up

-“did you see the way Donnie practically tripped over his own two feet last night? It was INSANE, baby!”

-“I didn’t, I was kind of too busy tripping on my shoelaces.”

“Oh I didn’t see that. Are you okay?”

-“yeah I’m fine.”

-“how’d you trip over your shoelaces anyway? Weren’t they tied?”

-“they were... but I somehow found a way to trip over them. I’m terrible at the game, babe.”

“What? Psh, no way!”

-loves being on your team anyway

-it’s bonding!

-he’d never miss out on an opportunity to bond

-adores being on the opposite team and purposely dropping the ball for you to grab

-he’s just giving you an opportunity to get better!

-but, what he loves more, is working with you on the same team

-you’re both shorter than the rest of the turtle family, so naturally you both decided to create a technique

-he gets to crouch down, you jump on his back, and he launches you toward the hoop for you to slam dunk!

-it works most of the time

-key word: most

-the rest of the time in ends in a couple bruises and a lot of laughter

-this boy won’t let Leo even get a word out about you being terrible

-and Leo knows better

-he’s had too many run ins with doctor delicate touch in past experiences

-Mikeys always there to listen to you complaining about Leo as well

-even makes ‘after game snacks’ for the two of you while you rage about Leo’s dancing

-looks like Leo has another appointment booked with doctor delicate touch

#rottmnt mikey #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt raph #rottmnt oneshots #rottmnt leo #rottmnt imagine #rottmnt headcannons #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #wattpad #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt

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grayintogreen · 2 years

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[gently pushes pause on “this is a Critical Role blog” except bold of anyone to assume that I won’t change gears once a week, depending on what’s airing.]

Okay, so DAMN this episode had everything and I’ve usually been waiting for the dub and just reading summaries and watching clips for Yashahime but I plan on writing a few fics in this fandom for Februwhump (whaaaat), so I need to catch up and what better way to do so than watching the latest because BOY DID IT HAVE EVERYTHING.

What’s that, Chris? You like your stoic badass characters who care for like five people total who spent an entire series being the most selfish fuck known to god and man and then came into the sequel swinging that character development to get FUCKED UP because they were PROTECTING their loved ones?? Oh okay, here you go. Like GODDAMN.

(Also I love how Kirinmaru called back to that Inu-Papa “women and children shouldn’t be on a battlefield” thing while Sesshoumaru is literally standing behind him, taking a fucking breather and not yelling at the girls for tagging in, like damn way to drink the respect women and children juice there, Sess. He was like “oh my GOD Moroha why didn’t you RUN it’s like dealing with Mini-Inuyasha over here” but still let her do her shit and only stepped in when Kirinmaru was about to nuke his family and called them brats.

CAPTAIN BLOOD PRIVILEGE OVER HERE LIKE “HEY HERE’S AN ACTUAL EMOTION BECAUSE YOU CALLED MY DAUGHTERS AND NIECE A NAME.”)

Points were deducted from this episode because while my mama-loving heart did break down into sobbing bitch baby tears about Moroha and Kagome, I am still tapping my GODDAMN WATCH over Rin not getting to see her daughters, like come on man. The girl just got out of a tree and now her babies are in the Netherworld and her husband is literally engaged in a callback to the Night They Met what with the unconscious sprawl in the woods thing.

(I don’t know what a haku is in this context, but can it be solved by dumping water on his head? Because Rin can do that. She can do that good.)

Incidentally, loving Rin in the preview just standing in her shift and bare feet in front of Jaken, Takechiyo (who she has NEVER MET), and probably Sesshoumaru’s creepily glowing comatose body so Kirinmaru can’t get past her like this girl. THIS ABSOLUTE FIVE FOOT NOTHING OF A QUEEN.

I feel like given the opening, we’re about to head into a “pretend to be the villain of the piece, get a corruption arc” thing with Sesshoumaru, which... YES. YES, I AM EXCITED ABOUT. As long as he doesn’t die. If Sess dies of this and the end result is not every member of the Doggo Clan tackling his dumb ass into the ground and loving him back into whatever his definition of sense is, then what was the point. He’s the only member of the Sesshomaru Clan besides Towa that still has a Get Out of Death Card Free card, and I STAND by my “Sess is gonna get revived by the Tenseiga” theory and you can pry it from my cold fingers. I wrote the fic. I spoke it into existence, which, uh, given how fucking bad I am at theorizing (like seriously I am the opposite of Apollo’s gift of prophecy- no matter how well thought out my theories are THEY ARE NEVER TRUE, BUT GIVE ME THIS ONE.)

Anyway. LOVE THAT SHIPPO IS FINALLY GONNA SHOW AT LONG LAST... and has not aged a day. I mean it’s been 18 years, but Teen Shippo was everyone’s theory for awhile. But I mean the HUMANS have barely aged in 18 years, even the ones NOT stuck in time displacement, so keeping Shippo still Baby makes sense.

Also BOY did this season (mostly the new opening though let’s be real) come for my entire life with the Riku/Towa. I was pretty content to just ship the Old Hotness and leave the kiddos to being cute and sibling-y and GOD way to hit a dozen of my tropes. I’m hoping “Riku dies if Kirinmaru dies” (which oh my god YASHAHIME THAT TROPE IS GETTIN REAL OLD) is gonna be the new Kohaku Will Die Without the Jewel Shard and that’ll get resolved somehow. Like come on, let Towa and Riku be the GNC as fuck ship of dreams.

Anyway, looking forward to at least ONE adorable family reunion next week... and also finding out why the fuck Sesshoumaru is how he is right now and what’s that gonna do.

#yashahime spoilers #yashahime #antis don't interact #honestly if you have any negative opinions at all don't interact #just let me goddamn enjoy my cheesy next gen anime in peace for christ's sake #scroll bar your beloved

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randomhl-vraifam · 3 years

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So if you haven't seen @gryphsdeadbones and his incredible Gordon Cubed AU... go check it out, please. It's literally so fucking good, and you can read the comic @gordoncubed.

I asked if I could write something for this AU, and got the go ahead, so here we are! It was inspired by this ask and this ask, just in case anyone needs context for what's happening.

Anyway, uh... yeah. Here's a thing.

If you had told Gordon Freeman that, somewhere in the universe, there existed multiple versions of himself, each from very different dimensions, he might have actually believed you. He was a theoretical physicist, after all. The unknown and hypothetical was kind of his area of expertise.

However, if you had told him that his alternates were… like this? That he might have had a hard time believing. He was absolutely blown away by how much those two could talk. They did it constantly! Freeman wasn’t sure if they knew how to not talk. He considered, more than once, finding tape in one of the abandoned offices and sealing both their mouths shut.

He thought he’d be relieved if either of them decided to shut up.

Until one of them did.

Feetman (he still didn’t know what was up with that name) had been dangerously close to dying. Not that any of them were exactly safe from dying, but Feetman had ended up being a little closer to death than Freeman wanted to think about. He found himself wishing Feetman would talk more. If only to ensure that he was still conscious.

And he found himself wishing Freemind would talk less. A lot less.

It was almost as though the man felt the need to talk through the silence Feetman wasn’t filling. And he did so. Very obnoxiously. Normally, Freeman would tell him to knock off his shit, but he had a feeling that Freemind was just as nervous as he was, and the only outlet he had was talking. Freeman let it slide.

If you asked Freemind, he’d tell you that he gave absolutely no fucks about Feetman. He didn’t give a fuck about either of these idiots, aside from the fact that they were somewhat useful in getting through this hellhole. Except one of them was now considerably less useful.

Not only was Feetman less useful, he was a hindrance. Freemind didn’t like slow progress. He liked efficiency. He liked getting shit done. Dragging Feetman’s dumb ass around was not effecient and it wasn’t getting shit done. The guy seemed like he was almost always on the verge of collapsing.

So if he suggested that Feetman sit the fuck down, it was for the sake of making sure the idiot didn’t pass out and further impede their progress. Not because it bothered him to see the guy struggling to stand up straight. Because he didn’t give a fuck.

It’d gotten better after a couple of days, but only by a narrow margin. They weren’t having to stop as often, but Freeman was still adamant that Feetman not take any shifts on night watch, which Freemind found annoying as hell. He kept that opinion to himself, though. The silent member of the trio didn’t seem willing to compromise on the matter, and Freemind wasn’t willing to try and make him.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed off about it. Freeman could see Freemind getting more and more agitated. He snapped more often, and in more hurtful ways. There were only so many times Freeman could tell him to shut up, eventually Freemind got around to talking again.

Freeman didn’t mind stopping for Feetman when he needed it. More often than not, Freeman would have to put a hand on his left shoulder to stop him, to make him take a break. Every time, Feetman would say that he could keep going, even if he was on the verge of falling over. He hadn’t needed to stop during his first run, he’d insist, he didn’t need to stop now.

So when Feetman hesitantly grabbed his arm, Freeman stopped, immediately worried that his counterpart needed him for balance.

“Hey, uh…” Feetman looked at him blearily behind bent frames. Freeman was sure all of their glasses were damaged at this point. His own lenses were cracked. “Can we- I hate to ask, but…” He trailed off, seeming to lose his train of thought.

Freeman steadied Gordon with one hand, then quickly signed, “Do you need to stop?”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah, I think- should probably… yeah. Gordon, uh, hurt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you serious?” Freemind groaned, clearly in one of his more irritable moods. “We’re never gonna get anywhere like this!”

Deciding to ignore Freemind, Freeman ushered their limbless counterpart to a nearby room. This wasn’t a part of Black Mesa he’d frequented, so he wasn’t exactly sure what the room was for. Peeking inside, it looked like a lab of sorts. The broken bunsen burners were a pretty good indication that this particular lab had worked with chemicals.

The room looked safe enough to hunker down for a few minutes, and he needed to check on Feetman’s arm. Probably wouldn’t hurt to check under Freemind’s eyepatch, too. He was fairly certain no one had been in there aside from a couple of aliens, considering none of the lights were on, and the cabinets that might have contained anything useful were closed.

Downside, there was probably gonna be a lot of chemical spills. Upside, there was probably a medical kit.

Feetman stopped before going in. “Why are the lights out in there?”

Freeman heard Freemind scoff behind him, but he flicked the light switch, and Feetman relaxed considerably. Freemind grew increasingly agitated as Freeman searched the room for a medical kit. “Why the fuck are you babying him? We need to move!”

Freeman pulled the lab’s medkit off the wall, tempted to throw it at Freemind, but restrained himself. “Let me see your eye.”

“Nah,” Freemind said. “I’m all good. Not gonna bitch about a stupid injury like some people.”

“Fuck you, man,” Feetman muttered. He winced as Freeman started pulling off his bandages, and waved off the signed apology.

Freemind snorted. “Yeah, no thanks.” He kicked at a pile of broken glass that had most likely been a beaker at some point. “If he’s gonna be fucking useless or whatever, then the two of us should scope the area. Make sure there’s nothing around.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, exactly, but Feetman immediately froze at the suggestion. “Uh- I don’t…” Freeman raised an eyebrow, but continued to change the bandages on what was left of his arm. He had a feeling that Feetman didn’t want to be by himself for any extended period of time. Couldn’t blame him, really.

“What?” Freemind snapped, “Gonna bitch about being alone, too?” Feetman averted his gaze, which was all the confirmation Freemind needed to know that he was right. “What are you, six? Man up.”

Freeman shot him a glare. “Go by yourself.”

Freemind scowled. “Are you stupid? I’m missing an eye! Can’t see shit coming from my left.”

“Then stay in here and stop complaining,” Freeman signed. Freemind wasn’t sure how he managed such a clipped, irritated tone with his hands, but the mute managed. He might have been something close to impressed if he wasn’t so pissed off.

“Fine,” Freemind spat. “Whatever. Don’t listen to the smartest person on the team.”

Feetman’s face scrunched in thought. “Aren’t we… like, the same person?”

“No. Because I’m better.” Freemind leaned against the wall. “Honestly, you guys are so lucky to have me around. You’d probably both be dead if I wasn’t here.” Freeman had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Something to say?”

Freeman, of course, said nothing. Freemind couldn’t decide if he could take the silence as a win or not. He couldn’t argue with someone that wouldn’t--or couldn’t--talk back, and he couldn’t win an argument they weren’t having. How was he supposed to prove he was better if Freeman wasn’t even giving him the option?

So Freemind, bored and irritated, did the only thing he could think to do: push every button until something happened. “How long are you gonna play nursemaid? I’ve got better things to do than waste away in this hellhole.”

“You’re not the only one who wants to go home, man,” Feetman said. “You’re just the only one complaining about it all the time.”

Freeman suppressed a laugh as he finished wrapping Feetman’s arm. He could see Freemind getting huffy in his peripheral, but paid it no mind. The guy had largely been all bark and no bite during this whole ordeal, although Freeman didn’t doubt the guy had started a few fights in his time. He’d probably start one now if it weren’t for the fact that they needed each other for survival.

Freemind wasn’t all bad (it was pretty damn close to all, though). Freeman had seen the softer side of him, hidden under about a million layers of a complex superiority/inferiority complex. He’d tried toughing it out the first day after he’d lost his left eye, but by the second day he was hovering closer to Freeman and Feetman.

He had called it a strategic advantage. They could see, he could not. If he had one of them on his left, they’d be his lookout, or a sufficient meat-shield. Whichever the situation called for.

Neither of them missed the way he’d occasionally reach out to tap an arm. Or the way he’d intentionally bump a shoulder and then angrily insist that they had been in the way. They didn’t say anything about it, though. Freemind would only be an even bigger pain in the ass if they pointed it out.

Freeman was less pissed that Freemind was protecting his dignity, and more pissed that he wasn’t offering Feetman the same courtesy of not mentioning his weakness. Then again, Freemind was probably too insecure to admit he cared.

“Well, at least I’m not scared of the fucking dark,” Freemind said triumphantly. “I’ve seen you clingin’ to Freeman over there whenever the lights get dim.”

Feetman rolled his eyes, “Oh, yeah. Like you haven’t been clinging to both of us the past couple of days.”

Freemind’s face reddened. In embarrassment or anger, Freeman couldn’t be sure. “Are you calling me a coward?”

“No, but…” Feetman chuckled under his breath, quietly singing, “You are a pirate.”

“Bold words coming from the cripple of the group,” Freemind seethed. “Are we ready to go or not? I’m tired of waiting around for you fucking idiots.”

Freeman snapped the medkit closed and signed, “Then go.” Freemind glared, but didn’t move. A testament to how much he actually relied on their presence.

It was a liability. One that Freemind hated himself for having. Being dependent on people wasn’t exactly his style. Yet here he was, unable to leave this stupid room because he couldn’t leave without these two idiots. Well, he could, but he wasn’t going to.

After a few more minutes of Freeman fussing over Feetman’s missing arm, Feetman claimed that he was ready to go. Freemind thought it was about fucking time, but Freeman didn’t seem so sure.

Freemind couldn’t figure out why Freeman was being such a mother hen about all this. Usually it was Feetman doing that, which made sense, considering they guy had a kid. Freemind thought he’d be glad to have Feetman off his back about his eye and everything else, but Freeman was almost worse. At least Feetman listened somewhat, even if it was just to bicker with him. Freeman would just tell him to shut up.

He ducked out of the room while Freeman and Feetman continued a mostly one-way conversation. Ironically enough, it was Freeman doing most of the talking. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“We can stay a few more minutes, if you need to.”

“I said I’m fine, man,” Feetman said. “Or- well… as ‘fine’ as I’m gonna get.” He glanced out to the hallway. “Think his eye is okay?”

Freeman shrugged. “He’ll start complaining when he wants someone to look at it.”

Feetman nodded. “Yeah… alright. Guess we better get moving before he-”

“Will you two hurry the fuck up!” Freemind shouted from the hallway. “You morons are slower than my dead grandmother!”

A cheerful smile overtook Feetman’s face, taking Freeman by surprise. “Gordon,” he said happily, “I crave violence!”

The moment was gone before Freeman could question it. He’d learned to stop asking about Feetman’s little outbursts. They were his friends, supposedly. Something about his first run? Freeman didn’t know. And there was no telling what might trigger it, so Freeman mostly relied on context.

Like now, for instance. Even if the smile was cheerful, the words suggested Feetman was about two seconds from strangling Freemind with his remaining hand. So Freeman decided it’d probably be best to keep the two separate. At least until they both calmed down a little.

Freemind noticed Freeman’s efforts to keep them separated. He decided against pushing any more buttons, since Feetman seemed capable of talking back, despite his injury. And, honestly, how dare he talk back to a god like Freemind?

Really, he didn’t understand why Feetman was getting so worked up about everything damn thing. Freemind himself hated being a liability, so why was Feetman so insistent on being one all the fucking time? It was infuriating. Feetman should be just as on guard as he was, not overreacting about a dark room. They didn’t have time for him to be scared of every damn thing.

None of them liked the dark. So why was Feetman being such a bitch about it?

Freeman suddenly waved a hand to get his attention. “Storage area.”

Freemind grinned. “Nice! Might find some guns in there.”

“Or supplies,” Feetman added.

“Whatever,” Freemind dismissed, already shoving past him to take a look around the storage room.

Unfortunately, it looked pretty ransacked already, but the three men spread out to search through the splintered crates. Well, Freemind and Freeman did anyway. Feetman just seemed to be smashing them, for some reason. He stopped after a couple of minutes and frowned. “Why am I smashing crates?”

Freemind’s face twisted in confusion. This guy might actually be losing it. “Are you brain dead or something?” Feetman blinked at him. “Know what? Fuck it. Never mind.” Freeman was better at dealing with whatever that issue was. Apparently, Feetman’s… ‘friends’... really liked smashing crates.

The dude was seriously fucked up. Not just his arm, either.

He wasn’t finding anything useful, and was about to see if Freeman had found anything, when the lights suddenly flickered. “What the-” ‘fuck’ didn’t get a chance to leave his mouth before the room went completely dark.

For a moment, he thought he’d lost his other eye. A spike of panic tore through him at the thought of being totally blind during an alien invasion, but then remembered that he’d seen the lights flicker. It was just a power outage. His eye was fine.

“Um… guys?” Feetman called out. “Where- you guys still in here?”

Freemind started to answer back, ‘Yes, dumbass, of course we’re still here,’ but he stopped himself. Feetman needed to stop being a bitch about the dark, and here was the perfect opportunity for some exposure therapy. And if Freemind didn’t say anything, then Feetman would have to get over his thing about being alone, too.

It was two birds with one stone. If Feetman could handle being alone, in the dark, until the backup generator for this area kicked on, then everything else would be a cakewalk by comparison. Without Feetman bitching all the time, they could get out faster.

Genius plan. Foolproof. God, he was so fucking smart. And the best part was, Freeman couldn’t even ruin it. The guy didn’t talk, and his sign language was useless in the dark.

“Freeman?” Feetman tried again. “Did- did you guys leave?” Perfect. Feetman thought he was alone. Now all he had to do was stay calm and- “This isn’t funny, guys!”

Freemind raised an eyebrow, kind of a useless gesture in the dark, but it felt necessary. This wasn’t supposed to be funny. It was supposed to be productive. It was a solution to a problem. Freemind was fixing the problem. All Feetman had to do was stay calm. How difficult could it be?

He bit back a curse as he heard footsteps to his left. Freeman was trying to find Feetman! That would ruin this whole thing! Did Freeman not understand what he was trying to do here? No, of course he didn’t. Why would he? He was an idiot, just like everyone else.

“Who is that?” Feetman asked in a wavering voice. “What are you doing?!” The footsteps stopped. Freemind smiled, glad that his plan was back on track, but frowned again when he heard the unmistakable sound of the HEV suit hitting something. The wall? The floor? Did Feetman trip over something? What a goddamn moron.

Feetman had indeed hit the floor, tripping over a demolished crate in his attempt to back away from whoever was moving towards him.

Freemind wasn’t answering him. He couldn’t see Freeman. Did something happen to them? Were they okay? Was this another ambush? Did the other two set this up? They couldn’t have. Could they? Would they? He’d been betrayed by people he trusted before...

The darkness closed in on him more and more with every terrified thought that ran through his head. His arm throbbed in time with his heartbeat, which was entirely too fast and he couldn’t make it stop. He wanted to call out again, for Freeman or Freemind or anyone, but his throat closed up with panic before he could. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. It felt like he was dying. Maybe he was dying.

Freeman heard Feetman’s choked off gasp, and started moving again. He knew the approaching footsteps were going to freak Feetman out, but he needed to make sure his counterpart wasn’t injured. His eyes were starting to adjust a bit, letting him make out the barest outline of the boxes closest to him so he could move around them, but finding Feetman was an entirely different challenge.

Finally, he could see the vague shape of Feetman, on his knees and curled in on himself. He hoped the lights came back on soon. Because once he helped Feetman, he had a universal sign for Freemind that relied heavily on his middle finger. Was this his idea of a joke?

Feetman was hyperventilating, mumbling incoherently as Freeman slowly knelt down next to him. He tapped the floor lightly in hopes that Feetman would understand that this was a friend. Not an alien or a soldier, not a threat. But Feetman didn’t seem to register it, if anything, he only seemed to panic more.

After a few seconds of Freeman trying desperately to come up with a solution, the fluorescent lights whirred back to life. Freemind was standing on the other side of the room, looking almost annoyed at the situation. Then he saw Feetman collapsed on the ground, and his expression softened into something resembling concern.

“Whoa, the fuck?” He made his way over to his two alternates, wondering where the hell his plan went wrong. “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

Freeman sliced a hand across his throat, the unofficial sign for ‘cut that shit out’, then signed, “Help him.”

Freemind suddenly felt very out of his element. How the fuck was he supposed to help? “Hey, uh…” He cleared his throat nervously.

Nervously? Since when did he get nervous?

Maybe since he’d unintentionally plunged someone into a panic attack.

Shut up, he scolded himself. He was Gordon ‘Freemind’ Freeman. He didn’t make mistakes. He just… miscalculated. A little. Not enough to count as a failure.

“Listen, just- just calm down, it’s… the lights are back on, okay? You can stop freaking out.” There. Facts. Feetman hated the dark, and now there was no more dark.

“Shut up,” Feetman said in a strangled voice. “Sh-shut the fuck up.”

Hm. Okay. That was bad, Freemind was pretty sure. “Okay, well, I don’t know what the fuck you want me to do here, so I’m just gonna keep talking.” Feetman shook his head. “Yeah, I am. Because you’re so stuck in your own stupid brain that-” Freeman nudged him. “What?”

“Just talk,” Freeman signed angrily. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Freemind huffed. “Listen, I didn’t… I didn’t know the dark was gonna fuck with you that bad. I thought you’d, like, get over it. Which you didn’t. And that’s bullshit, but whatever. Next time I won’t do that.”

Feetman tensed. “Next time?” He asked frantically, “What- there’s gonna be a next time? I can’t-”

“What? No!” Freemind exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant, you- fuck.” He looked to Freeman for help. “Any other great ideas?”

Freeman didn’t know. On reflex, he reached out to put a hand on Feetman’s arm. Of the three of them, Feetman was probably the most touch-oriented. He knew his mistake as soon as his hand grazed the HEV suit, Feetman immediately recoiling, eyes wide with fear .

“Get away from me!” Freeman started to pull back, realizing too late that this was the wrong arm to touch in the moment. But before he could apologize, pain exploded across the right side of his face. He could see Feetman scrambling backwards through the stars in his eyes. Feetman really packed a punch.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?!” Freemind yelled. “Why’d you do that, Freeman was trying to help, dumbass!”

He shook his head to get Freemind’s attention. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have scared him.” He should have known better. He should have made sure Feetman was okay first. He refused to blame Feetman for lashing out during such a vulnerable moment.

The panicked haze in Freeman’s eyes cleared a bit. “F- fuck, I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t-” Freeman shook his head, assuring Feetman that he was fine. “What happened? You… the lights went out and I couldn’t- you weren’t…”

Freeman glanced at Freemind, having more or less the same question. “Why didn’t you say anything when the lights went out?”

Freemind at least had the decency to look… guilty? The expression was so foreign on Freemind’s face that Freeman almost didn’t recognize it. “I was- I had this plan.” He stopped like he expected to be interrupted, then continued when he realized that Freeman and Feetman were still listening, “I thought you were kinda overreacting about the dark and shit. So I was trying to help you, like, get over yourself. And that didn’t, uh… that didn’t work.”

Feetman wheezed. “You- you’re an idiot.” He rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Why the fuck did you think that would work? That’s the stupidest-”

“Shut up.”

“-thing I have ever heard in my-”

“Feetman, so help me god, I will turn these lights back off.”

“-entire fucking life,” Feetman finished. Freemind grumbled, but otherwise held his tongue. Feetman then turned to Freeman and winced. “Jesus, man, your face. I’m real sorry about that.”

Freeman shrugged. “I’ve had worse. It was my fault, anyway.” Feetman didn’t look convinced, biting his lip and holding his right arm tight to his chest. He figured now was probably a better time to ask, “Do you want a hug?”

“No,” Feetman said. Then, after a moment, “Maybe… yeah.” He glanced at Freemind. “As long as the resident pirate isn’t gonna be a dick about it.”

Freemind narrowed his eye. “Shut up.” But despite the venom in his voice, he leaned against Feetman’s left side. “Don’t say another word.”

Freeman slung an arm around Feetman, giving him a reassuring squeeze that neither of them could feel, but it was the thought that counted. Feetman almost immediately relaxed into the embrace, quietly muttering a word Freeman didn’t recognize, “Pog.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Freemind asked. “No, actually, I don’t care. I hate it. Don’t ever say that again.”

Feetman laughed again, lightly bickering with Freemind until all three of them were ready to go. There wasn’t much they could salvage in the storage area, unfortunately, but hopefully they’d find something later.

Freemind didn’t make another comment about Feetman’s fear of being alone or in the dark. If you asked him, he’d say that Feetman bitching about the dark was marginally more productive than him being collapsed on the floor. Again, it was all just survival.

And if anyone said that they saw him quietly talking to Feetman at night, distracting him from the dark and the pain in his arm until he fell asleep, that person was a goddamn liar.

#hlvrai #hlvrai au #gordon cubed #gordon freemanverse #i'm so sorry if this story sucks #it was literally just supposed to be the scene in the storage area #but i'm a dumbass and now there's this #gryph i'm sorry about my dumb bitch disease i promise it's not contagious

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whimperwoods · 3 years

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Part 8 of Gozukk and Anna.

In this installment, many names? Family lore abounds. Anna is only mostly the center of attention, which is probably for the best. I am honestly only partially sure this chapter even counts as whump, but I just needed a nice breakfast and some nice new friends and for Anna to get some new Gozukk context before she has to do more scary things like go talk to a doctor.

The masterpost is here and includes a cheat sheet with all the new names/characters.

tw: slavery (past), tw: past rape/noncon (barely referenced), tw: past abuse,

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Tag list: @redwingedwhump, @nine-tailed-whump, @thehurtsandthecomfurts @kixngiggles, @bluebadgerwhump, @dragonheart905, @carolinethedragon, @whumpzone, @newbornwhumperfly, @cupcakes-and-pain, @much-ado-about-whumping

****

Gozukk left a note for the half-elf, pinned to the inside of the tent flap, and let her sleep. He hoped she would wake for breakfast while others were still there for her to meet, but he also knew enough about her wounds, inside and out, to know she needed the sleep if she could get it.

He was talking to Azzor when her head poked tentatively out of the tent flap, glanced uneasily toward him and the others and the fire, and vanished back inside. His heart fell a little, though he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t expected the fear.

Azzor had noticed him watching something, and probably his face falling while he wasn’t thinking about keeping a front up. When he turned his gaze back to his best friend’s face, the general was already rolling his eyes. “Go on, it’s fine. You’ve gotten the key things from my report. I assume you’re staying around camp today?”

Gozukk nodded, looking back over at the tent, and trying to decide how offended he should be that Azzor wasn’t bothering to pretend he couldn’t read him like a book..

“This is that baby hawk all over again,” Azzor said, “Don’t be surprised when you find yourself bleeding even though you’re stronger than her.”

Gozukk’s face slid into a sideways grin. “Which baby hawk?”

“Exactly. It was like you liked having beak-sized gashes all up your arms.”

Something in Azzor’s eyes said he wasn’t upset, just wary, and Goz could live with that. “Anyway,” he answered, “This time, her wings are clipped. You have to acknowledge that’s different.”

“Fear is fear. You can’t expect something that scared and with that many reasons not to trust anther creature to decide you’re the safe thing.”

Gozukk scowled. “She’s not a something. She’s a someone.”

Az sighed. “I know, Gozukk. But elves can be dangerous, too. You know that.”

He did. He did. His face warmed over his cheekbones, and he found he couldn’t meet his best friend’s eyes. “I know, Az. It’s just -”

“You’ve never seen a broken wing you didn’t want to splint.”

Azzor sounded resigned more than he did disappointed, something hiding in his tone that told Gozukk they were still alright. A wave of calm washed through him. It was clear, then. It was clear what he was doing, even if all the rest - wasn’t.

As Gozukk stepped away, toward his tent, Azzor reached out and gripped his forearm. “You know I’m only paranoid because someone has to be, right, Goz?”

Gozukk gripped Azzor’s forearm in return. “And you know it’s why I made you General.”

Azzor squeezed his arm before letting go. “Go on, Mama Bird.”

“Papa Bird.”

“You’re never winning that one.”

Gozukk made a vague, dismissive noise and tried to hold onto the hope of the morning. There was breakfast. People were well-rested. The humans from yesterday were still a problem, but nothing new was looming over today. It was going to be a good day. It was.

Anna was still just inside the tent flap when he opened it, and she immediately flinched away from him, hard, one hand moving instinctively upward as if she might need to protect herself from being hit.

He wanted to reach for her shoulder, but he shouldn’t, and his body stiffened as he resisted the impulse. She took a half-step backward, bobbing her head into a series of quick half-bows. “Oh, umm... I’m sorry Sir - Mr. Gozukk - I’m - I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “I knew you were here, just didn’t realize you were still at the door.” He reached forward and brushed her hair behind her ear, never quite touching her head, and was pleased to find the little bobs stopping, even if she didn’t seem much calmer.

He pushed the tent flap open farther and stepped inside, moving around her with a few extra inches space to spare.

As soon as the flap closed, blocking out the morning sun, it was harder to hold onto the hope that today would be better. But then, it didn’t have to be, did it? It just needed to not be worse.

He dropped down into a comfortable squat, rather than making her look up, and her eyebrows raised in surprised as he peered at her face from below.

Her hands fluttered anxiously in front of her. “Oh - I -”

He held his hands out, hoping she’d give him hers and stay standing, rather than collapsing again. It was worth a try, anyway, and if she did fall down to her knees, at least he was already close enough to make eye contact.

“Oh!” she said again, softer this time. She placed her hands tentatively into his, her cheeks brightening into a blush.

Her hands were so small in his, immediately swallowed up even by his loosest, gentlest grasp. The bandages around her palms did a little bit to camouflage the narrow palms, but couldn’t disguise the delicacy of the slender, shaking fingers resting against his palm.

He held her hands as gently as he could manage. “Anna,” he began seriously, “I need you to listen to me, and I need you to tell me the truth. We have time, and there is no rush. Are you ready to meet people, or would you like me to bring breakfast in here?”

Her breathing shallowed, and her eyes started darting around, frightened, but she didn’t have much of anywhere else to look, not with him squatting down to look at her from under her hair, and not when she couldn’t twist away without pulling her hands out of his (admittedly loose) grip.

She blushed harder. “I can do it, Mas-” she flinched, her eyes blinking closed for a second and then meeting his fully as she corrected herself, big and pleading. “Gozukk. I can do it . . . Gozukk.” Her voice trailed away to near silence, and he decided she’d been stressed out enough. He gave her fingers a gentle, reassuring squeeze and then stood back up.

“Excellent. We’ll get you some breakfast over by where Djaana’s sitting, so you’ll have a familiar face nearby. I’ll tell the kids not to bother you.”

“Th-Thank you . . . Gozukk.”

She still seemed to be struggling with his name, but allowed him to usher her out of the tent, holding the flap open for her.

The adults in the camp made a point of not staring, in spite of the curiosity in their passing glances, but the children gawped openly, and Anna shrank closer to his side, pulling in on herself.

It felt good for her to cringe closer rather than farther away, as much as he didn’t like watching her stay so afraid. Fear is fear, Azzor had said, and backed into a corner, he was right, but Anna was a person and not a bird, and he had to hope for better.

Djaana smiled at both of them as they approached, her youngest, still just a toddler, ducking behind her calves and peering out at Gozukk and the stranger.

“How’s your back feeling this morning?” Djaana asked, her tone casual, as though this were a normal morning chat. “Mukzod is back in camp if you’d like a healer to take a look. You can go with Dumul, when he goes to train.”

Gozukk’s oldest nephew raised a hand, waving in Anna’s direction. “That’s me.”

Anna dropped into a curtsy. “Pleased to meet you.”

Dumul bowed back without rising from his feet, a deep polite nod. Gozukk’s heart warmed. Dumul and his cousin had both been a handful lately, insisting on taking new responsibilities and getting away from home, both of them only recently grown into their limbs, so that Gozukk still imagined them as lanky adolescents and was surprised when they came into view and weren’t.

Beside Dumul, Enzah rose to her feet, moving carefully and slowly toward him and Anna to avoid startling the girl, apparently having been briefed on the girl’s terror even though she’d been gone with the scouts yesterday. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, well-carved wooden comb.

“Hey, Anna,” she said gently, “My aunt told me about you. I went with some scouts yesterday to find the campsites the caravan used before, and I thought this might be yours.”

Anna backed up slightly, almost bumping against Gozukk’s side. “Oh! Um, n-no ma’am. I’m - that was - part of the cargo.”

Her face had paled a little, and Gozukk could feel her shaking just inches from him.

“Thank you, Enzah, that was kind,” he said, “Why don’t you keep it as spoils?”

She grinned, something in the expression reminding him painfully of his late brother as she did, but he needed to stay in the here and now.

“I’m not a very good medic yet,” Dumul said, “But if you’d like me to look at your hand before you eat, I can try a small healing spell. Elder Mazogga says I should focus more on slow medicine before I learn the fast way, but a little magic can’t hurt.”

Anna’s hand closed into a fist as she pulled her hand closer to her chest, almost as if on instinct.

Dumul held his hands up, palms toward her, “Or if you’re not ready, that’s fine, too. I know Uncle’s had enough battle wounds to dress them well.”

“Better than you,” Djaana commented affectionately, “You should have listened to Mazogga.”

Dumul nodded deeply, conceding the point, but they all knew they couldn’t really regret him choosing to do healer’s training first, before medicine. Enzah stretched, letting her shirt ride up to reveal the messy scar across her stomach where she’d nearly been disemboweled a few months ago, and Gozukk felt a familiar small spike of fear as he thought about the fact that she’d been allowed to go scouting again with the rest of her training cohort, even to a place as safe as an abandoned camp.

Mel had been peering out from behind her mother’s legs with more and more confidence as they all stood still, and finally tugged on Djaana’s hand, “I go Uncle Gokukk?” she asked in a whisper that wasn’t really a whisper.

“Why don’t you go see if Uncle Gozukk wants to see you?” Djaana answered back.

The girl’s eyes brightened and she took off running on her chubby little legs, closing the distance between them so fast Gozukk barely had time to squat down and open his arms to catch her. She shrieked with giggles as he scooped her up and tossed her into the air, only to catch her again and hold her steady this time, plenty aware that baby cuddles didn’t last forever.

Mel buried her face against his shoulder and peered sideways at Anna, who seemed to have calmed down a little, too.

“Anna, this is my niece Mel. Mel, can you say hi to Anna?”

The toddler looked up and waved at the half-elf, but then buried her face back in his shoulder, suddenly shy. He laughed. “Good job, Mel. Do you want to let Anna say hi, too?”

Mel turned her head to the side to look at Anna and the half-elf spoke quickly, still clearly on edge. “Oh! Hi, Mel. I’m - I’m Anna.”

He introduced her to everyone around the circle, explaining that Jak was off with a friend, but she’d seen him yesterday, and his brother-in-law was away on a long hunt, back in a few days.

Finally, he settled her down in a spot by the fire next to Enzah. Usually, he’d have said Dumul was the less intimidating of the two, but he knew Anna was wary of men. It was reassuring when Enz immediately started talking to her in a calmer, softer voice than usual, offering her food and fussing over her a little bit, more like Djaana than like her late father. He smiled softly and relaxed. She’d always been a good girl, and he knew he could trust her to try her best, even if assuaging people’s fears wasn’t exactly her strongest skill.

He moved around the camp, talking briefly with various groups of people, but with half an eye on Anna the whole time, never straying too far to get back to her quickly if he needed to.

By the time Mel was wiggling to be let down and he had to return to his sister, it was clear both that his family was happy to accept Anna, and that it was a little overwhelming for her. She’d eaten, though he couldn’t imagine Enzah hadn’t been a little harsh about forcing the issue if Anna had been as reluctant as yesterday. Her arms were back around her middle, and something in her eyes looked half-dazed, her body hunched small next to his niece’s casual lanky sprawl.

Sending Mel toddling back to her mother, he crouched down beside Anna, whose brown-green eyes met his immediately this time, half desperate. He brushed her hair behind her ear again, a quick gesture of reassurance. “One more stop, and then I think you probably need more rest. Djaana’s not wrong. A visit to the healer or the midwife wouldn’t go amiss, now that you’re settled in a little bit.”

Anna’s eyes teared up and she started shaking again, eliciting a glare from Enzah he could feel burning into the side of his face, as if there were anything he could do about this.

He patted his niece casually on the shoulder as he rose to his feet, then offered a hand to Anna to help her up.

She took it immediately, quick enough this time to surprise him, though not unwelcomely. He guided her to Mukzod’s tent without quite touching her elbow, aware even without making contact that she was trembling again, but this time as she walked close to him, she at least seemed to be staying close, rather than trying to disappear into his side entirely, which seemed like a good sign.

“Before we go in to the tent,” he said gently, “I need you to tell me if you’re uncomfortable. Mukzod heals with help from the gods, and I can promise you he won’t call down any kind of magic to hurt you. But if you’re afraid, you don’t have to be healed at all. I just also want to make sure there’s no kind of tracking magic or curse on you. And if that’s all he does, that’s alright.”

Anna nodded, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes, looking down at the ground instead, and he didn’t know whether to believe her. Either way, it was best to remove the bandage quickly. He nodded back to her and called into the tent for Mukzod’s permission to enter.

#d&d whump #past abuse tw #past slavery tw #hurt/comfort #whump #fluff #might make a masterpost and a family tree/character list #bc at this point that seems useful #i knew he had 2 nieces and 2 nephews but i did not know djaana's oldest was gonna be a doctor #what a nice surprise #dumul is an extremely good boy #also the cousins are 3 days apart so people were calling them 'the twins' even before her parents died and haven't exactly stopped #no one will ever challenge gozukk to take over leadership because he is a force to be reckoned with in battle #but does he secretly just want to toss his sister's baby in the air and make her giggle forever? maybe #his niblings keep growing up on him and it's tragic

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shroomcult · 3 years

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Hey folks!

Here’s my Day 1 post for Soma Week 2021. Tooth-rotting fluff towards the end - please enjoy. ^-^

@soulxmakaweek

Maka awoke with an audible groan, first registering the lack of her weapon’s familiar soul wavelength in the room before anything else. Whether she was disappointed or grateful of his absence was difficult to determine in her hazy mindstate.

Soul had been fussing over her for the past day, and while his concern for her comfort was endearing - his mother hen routine got old fast.

His over-attentive behavior was at least understandable. He had little to do cooped up in their hotel room, and ended up alternating between watching cooking shows at a considerately low volume, pacing around what little square footage they had, and laying in his bed beside hers tapping out the rhythm to whatever was blaring from his headphones. He was sure to pester her about how she was feeling at least every 20 minutes and his restlessness had been grinding on her last nerve before she fell into a fitful sleep.

If she had to hear “you okay?” or “need anything?” one more time, she was liable to snap and throw the closest object to her directly at his dumb, fluffy head. Not that he actually deserved it.

If she were being honest with herself, she was mostly frustrated with the situation itself - not Soul.

Well, maybe she was a little frustrated with Soul.

He may have been outwardly kind towards her in her predicament, but she could feel something else beneath the surface of that. She was well-versed in the subtle language of Soul’s facial expressions after all.

He was dying to tease her, and while she commended him for keeping his mouth blessedly shut about the humor in her suffering - she knew it amused him at least a little bit.

Because despite the fact that they had been sent to the bustling beach-side city of Recife, Brazil to take down a particularly cunning and repulsive kishin - she was not stuck in bed over any kind of work-related injury inflicted during their battle with the corrupted beast.

There was no glory or dignity that could be gained from the current state of her weakness. She had not received her injuries from a tense and thrilling battle, but instead from being negligent in her application of sunscreen before falling asleep splayed out on a beach towel under the unforgiving afternoon sun.

Soul had even recommended that she apply sunscreen a second time for her “hella pasty” skin and she responded to his comment in kind by throwing the sunscreen bottle at him with impressive accuracy and force.

Now she was bedridden with what was likely sun poisoning and had a complexion comparable to a hot dog.

Perhaps she should have taken Soul’s advice after all.

She also may have reached her last straw with Soul’s smothering behavior earlier and said something along the lines of “please get the hell out of here and give me at least an hour of peace,” before taking her rather unsatisfying nap.

That certainly explained his absence.

She let out a heavy sigh before deciding she would deal with the pain of moving so that she could re-apply aloe vera for the twentieth time that day. Only this was the first time she would be doing it without Soul’s assistance.

It was difficult to reach most areas of her back without him. She was certainly flexible enough to do it on her own, but the pain that came with stretching her arms was something she would prefer to avoid experiencing if possible.

She started on lathering her arms and chest area first, grounding herself in the way it stung yet soothed at the same time.

She only got through a small portion of her back before the combination of fatigue, nausea, and pain convinced her to give it a rest.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just figure out where Soul was. She didn’t need him or anything. She was just checking in - making sure he didn’t get himself into any trouble while she was asleep.

She made an awkward hobble across the room to retrieve her phone, careful to avoid bending her scorched appendages on the way there.

It only took a ring and a half for Soul to pick up her call, and she cursed herself for the way her entire body relaxed a little at the sound of his voice.

“Hey. Everything alright?”

He had that pleasant gravelly quality to his voice that usually indicated he either just woke up or he had a few drinks.

“I’m fine, Soul. I just woke up, actually. What have you been up to?” she’d tried to sound casual, but the hitch in her voice when she tried to lower herself back on to the bed betrayed her. The soft cotton sheets felt like they may as well have been a brillo pad against her sensitive flesh.

“Just givin’ you space like you asked. Found a neat little place to drink just down the road from us. To be honest with you, I think it might be a swinger bar or somethin’ - everyone here is middle aged and horny as hell.”

Maka felt a twinge of irritation at that last comment. Was he really off flirting with a bunch of Brazillian cougars while she was stuck in bed?

“S’not like I’m interested, but they keep buyin’ me drinks anyway. I don’t speak very good Portuguese and they seem to think that’s pretty sexy of me,” he added with a throaty chuckle that raised goosebumps across her skin.

“Why don’t you just stay there all night then! I could care less what you do!!”

She felt a bit childish for her outburst, but blamed it on Soul’s innate ability to push every last button she has in very few words.

“If you don’t care, then why’d ya call me in the first place?” She could just tell that his lip was curling into a smirk by his voice alone. Oh, he is so lucky he’s not in book-throwing distance.

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere,” she murmured with only a little bit of edge left in her.

“Oh yeah? That all?”

“.... Also, I guess you can come back to the hotel room.”

“Sorry? Can you speak up a little?”

“I said you can come back to the hotel room! Don’t make me say it again or you can sleep on the streets!”

He responded with an amused snort, “Oh, that’s very gracious of you. What a loving and benevolent meister I have.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t fall in a ditch on your way here.”

“Love ya too, Maka. Be there in a few.”

With that the phone call cut off, and she was left staring at the ceiling and feeling an overwhelming warmth in her face.

She decided to blame that on the sunburn rather than her weapon’s comment.

It only took about 20 minutes before she heard the click of the hotel door as it swung open, her partner poking his head in first and flashing her a shark-toothed smile before he kicked the door open the rest of the way. He was carrying an entire pack of drinks under his arm and a plastic CVS bag in the other.

“Stopped by CVS round the corner. Dunno if you’ll like ‘em, but I got these weird electrolyte drinks. S’posed to help hydrate you better or something,” he said as he plopped down at the end of the bed, emptying the contents of the plastic bag.

“Also got you some ibuprofen, more aloe, and a couple snack things. I know you said you weren’t hungry, but you should really try and eat at least a little bit.”

Maka only nodded, slightly overwhelmed by how caring he was being despite her recently sour attitude.

He tilted his head to the side for a moment, regarding her with gentle eyes before he got up and sat closer to her on the bed, being especially careful not to let his legs touch hers.

He slowly placed the back of his hand against her forehead muttering something about a fever, but she was too focused on his close proximity to her to even register what he was saying. He smelled of beer and limes and sunscreen.

His skin was a perfect bronze color, and he was showing off a lot more of it than he usually did. He was clad only in swim trunks, slider sandals, and a loose-hanging tank top that the top of his scar peeked out of.

He had been out in the sun just as long as she had, napping right beside her even, and yet his skin only tanned; never burned. The lucky bastard.

He used the same hand he’d checked her forehead with to brush back a few stray hairs from her face. “Sleep okay?” he asked in a hushed tone, as if he were worried his voice would bother her.

“I slept okay, I guess. Not much else I can do right now anyways.”

He nodded and gave a sympathetic click of his tongue, running his hand through her hair a few times before reaching for the aloe on the nightstand.

“Need me to get your back?”

She ignored his question, opting to rub the short-cropped silver whiskers covering his jaw with her palm.

“You need to shave.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated huff, squeezing the tube of aloe into his palms and rubbing them together.

“I’ll just take that as a yes and pretend you think I’m roguishly handsome.”

That earned him a laugh from her that clipped short when he placed his hands softly on her back. It only hurt for the first brief moment of contact, but she soon hummed her approval as the stinging sensation in her back felt dulled and soothed wherever his hands caressed her.

He was talented with his hands - knew just the right amount of pressure to give and take at each moment. She really had needed this. Trying to reach that spot between her shoulder blades on her own had been a nightmare.

Minutes passed with only the sounds of their breath and Soul’s practiced hands over her skin. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. Everything was just easy with him.

“Hey, Soul?”

He acknowledged her with a noncommittal grunt.

“Thank you. I know I haven’t exactly been pleasant lately, but I really do appreciate all of your help.”

She wanted to say more, it felt as though she hadn’t really expressed to him how much he means to her, but Soul wasn’t one for flowery words and declarations of love. She knew that was enough of a thanks for him.

“You don’t gotta thank me for all that, Maka. We’re partners, this is what we do for each other.”

“Right,” she whispered, a faint smile gracing her lips.

“All done,” he announced, “you gonna hang tight and read for a bit?”

“No - I’d like to, but I just feel too tired and nauseous to focus on anything like that right now. Maybe I’ll just try to take another nap.”

Without a word, he sauntered over to the book she had brought - a period-piece romance novel that he would make fun of at the first given opportunity. After it was in his grasp, he collapsed on his back right next to her. He really did kind of reek of beer, but she didn’t have the heart to push him away.

Once he found her bookmarked spot, he started from the top of the page with a hardy clear of his throat, reading the lead male love interest’s lines in the most posh and ridiculous accent she could have imagined.

She immediately burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles and snorts, which only encouraged him to continue, smiling from ear to ear as he did.

She nearly ran out of breath when he began reading the female heroine’s dialogue in a shrill voice that sounded more like an old British nanny than a pretty young woman.

He continued this entertainment for an admirable hour and a half before he had to admit that his vocal cords were defeated from the strain of ‘fancy British lady voice.’

By the time he had put the book aside, she had a hand curled around his bicep and her face was buried in his neck.

He’d said he was watching TV, but he fell asleep within 10 minutes of setting her book down much like an old man.

Her skin felt dry and tight, a feeling she was easily able to ignore while Soul was reading for her. She was aware that she’d need to get up soon to re-apply aloe, or she’d regret it later. Yet, it was so difficult to move away from him.

He was breathing deeply, and he smelled less like a bar and more like a beach the closer she was to him. He always looked so peaceful when he slept too. He looked young, like he didn’t carry the exhaustion that he usually does.

Despite the calm, collected demeanor he always tried to hold around others - he carried a lot of weight on his shoulders from pretending to be the person that other people need him to be. From taking the load off other people’s backs, he only strained himself and she felt this tiredness from it all that seeped into the very cracks of his soul.

She wished he didn’t have to try so hard all the time. She wished he could let himself be taken care of for once.

“I know you told me before that I don’t need to thank you. That the things you do for me are what I should expect from a partner, but you really are more than that to me, Soul,” she’d only whispered this into the crook of his neck, but she lifted her head up just to check that he was still unconscious.

He appeared serene, his breathing steady and not a crinkle in his face to indicate her words had disturbed him from his slumber.

“You can always depend on me too. I’d love to take care of you the way you take care of me. You deserve that - you know that, right?”

Not even a twitch.

She sighed, not expecting him to respond in the first place, but a little disappointed she hadn’t had the courage to tell him this while he was awake. She assumed it safe that he was in a deep sleep and began threading her fingers through his thick tufts of hair sticking up from his forehead.

“I know that when you say you love me, you’re talking about as a partner, as a friend. Well, I love you too. I love you a lot, Soul. I’m always afraid to say it back ... because it would carry a different weight when I say it. It’s like I’m afraid you’d just know.”

His breath hitched for a moment and her heart nearly jumped into her throat.

He only readjusted slightly, pressing his cheek against the top of her head and making a small sound akin to a whimper before his breathing evened out again.

She let out the shaky breath she had been holding and turned her head ever so slightly to press a soft kiss to his throat, where she could feel the warmth of his pulse.

“I hope we stay partners for a really long time.”

#SoMaWeek2021 #SoulxMakaweek #soul evans #maka albarn #soul eater

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sabraeal · 3 years

Text

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @ruleofexception‘s birthday! I had a choice between this and the Buzzfeed AU, and I jumped at the opportunity to close out this arc-- and also give at least one fic the chance to update three months in a row 🤣 I hope you enjoy your special day, Beth!

Shirayuki knows all too well what it’s like to have a defining feature.

In her earliest memories, she toddles around the swing set in the yard-- a Sesame Street one, faded from decades outdoors; she’d been shocked, years later, when she saw how bright Big Bird used to be in her dad’s pictures, canary yellow beneath his dungarees-- and in the background she can hear a boarder whisper to Busha, her hair’s so red! I’ve never seen anything like it.

It runs in the family, Busha says, her tone not yet tired. It must be one of the first times, when her apple red curls were still a source of pride instead of worry. Before anyone’s started yanking them at circle time, before full-grown adults sunk their hands into it and told her, if only my girlfriend had hair like this. Before people started calling her a firecracker, or feisty, or a fighter; before someone took a pair of shears and clipped a whole hank of it off to keep.

It’s changed her. Not how everyone expects; shame doesn’t cling to every strand of her hair, begging to be hidden. Nor does she brush it to shining every night with a hundred strokes, whispering a women’s hair is her glory. Half the time she just...forgets that there’s anything special at all, until someone stares at her over the avocados.

It’s strangers that need to make something of it, that need to say something, and well, she tries to take their compliments in the spirit they are given. Most people don’t know what it’s like-- will never know what it’s like-- to catch attention without trying. They can’t imagine being stopped on the way to school, at the gas station, at the grocery store, just to be told your hair is so red. They can’t fathom how each interaction has to be weighed and measured; to most people she’s a delightful oddity, but to a select few she’s a delicacy, something to be plucked and collected, and she never knows until it’s time to run.

(Most people also don’t know at the ripe age of thirteen that the best answer to does the carpet match the drapes? is a very assured, hair color is a different set of alleles than eyebrows and body hair. Confusion often makes the best getaway)

But that’s all typical; a natural response to a frequent stimulus. No, the thing that changes is what she notices in other people.

On some level she must see what everyone else sees first; it’s the only way she can disregard it with such unerring accuracy. When she first meets Zen, she doesn’t notice the princely bearing, the idol pretty looks-- instead it’s his hands and the firm way they clasp hers, the calluses where he holds her pen. The places where they are streaked with the barest hint of color instead of the uniform porcelain paleness-- eczema scars, he tells her, from when he used to get it every winter. With Kiki, it’s not her traffic-arresting beauty, but the way her shoulders fill out her button-up, how her skin is striped over her scapula with the tan lines of sports bras past, the casual flex of her muscles as she moves. But with Mitsuhide, well...

Much to her everlasting shame, all she sees is his height. Though in her defense, she was sitting when she met him, and he did blot out the sun. And she was very quick to notice the earnestness of his smile and the warmth in his eyes right after. But still, Mitsuhide is...large.

And yet, as big as he is, he has a gift for turning up unexpected.

“You better give those dice of yours a kiss tonight.” Kiki’s chair groans under her as she stretches up to standing, the edge of her flannel flirting with the band of her jeans. “They saved your ass tonight.”

“Excuse me, princess.” Obi’s already on his feet, grin just as ready. “Luck had nothing to do with it. That was all skill.”

Kiki’s eyes roll to where Izana sits, scribing his meticulous notes. There’s no need to say a word; she just waits, and without even a stilling of his pen, he replies, “Luck had everything to do with it. If I didn’t ask you to keep your dice here, I’d suspect you’d put that d20 in the microwave.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that--”

“You rolled three natural twenties in a row.” That ice cold gaze flicks up toward him, grim. “You can thank that rock you just threw for keeping that die from early retirement.”

“But Master.” Obi’s voice drops into his chest, a distant rumble that flutters his too-pretty eyelashes. “Could you really believe that I would do something so despicable as ch--”

“Yes,” he replies, nearly drowned out by Kiki’s, “Absolutely.”

“Hey!” The thin cotton of Obi’s button-down stretches taut over his back, his crossed arms folded tight across his chest. “I built this baby for speed and sweet-talking, and--”

“You should really consider putting more CON on Beaumains.”

Shirayuki nearly jumps out of her skin. The last she’d seen, Mitsuhide had been at the end of the table, putting away the reference books at an unhurried pace. But now the gentle gravel of his voice crinkles right behind her, and it’s impossible that he could move that fast, that she wouldn’t see someone his size slip around the table--

But she twists in her chair, her eyes confirming what her ears suggest. He’s right at Obi’s shoulder, all six-foot-four plus of him, easy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t want to tell you to put an ability point toward it, but there’s plenty of ways to scramble an egg.”

“Ah...” Obi shuffles back a step, hip bumping into the table. “Scramble an egg, big guy...?”

“Well, ten CON is going to put you a little behind the curve for a character at your level,” Mitsuhide tells him gently. “And we’re probably not near a market that would have appropriately leveled magic gear, but we could look into investing in a Belt of Might Constitution for you.”

Mitsuhide turns toward the stairs, invitation clear in the way his body angles. Obi stares for a moment, his jaw just the slightest bit slack.

“N...nah.” His shoulders twitch, a shrug that folds him in on himself. “Beaumains isn’t really an accessories type guy...”

The smile still lingers on Mitsuhide’s lips, but it’s fainter now, reserved. “Oh, okay then. Just wanted to let you know some options.”

He ducks his head beneath the looming bit of ceiling above the first step, shoulder hunched to make himself small enough to fit. There’s nothing about him that’s particularly sullen, but there’s something in the way he holds himself that reminds her of a child’s hand slapped away from the cookie tray.

Obi stares at the space between them, growing by the second. “H-hey, big guy.” In a flash, he’s behind him, one boot fixed on a stair tread. “Do you think the belt looks cool? Beaumains could be down as long as it had, you know, a bitchin buckle or something.”

Shirayuki can’t see Mitsuhide’s face from her seat, but she can hear the laughter bubbling in his chest when he says, “I think you might have to take that up with Izana.”

Izana smothers a smile before it can take its first breath. “We can talk aesthetics when you manage to find an atelier that carries such an item out in the Welsh hinterlands.”

Obi scoffs. “Details, details.”

Kiki stands, voice pitched just loud enough so that even the boys on the stairs can hear, “The last time I checked, that was where devils live.”

If Shirayuki were to try to guess at the target of Kiki’s verbal riposte, she would have thought it was Obi-- he’s the one who rushes in to parry her witty one-liners. But instead she leans in as she passes Izana’s chair, and with more boldness than the rest of them combined, she gives his ponytail a tight, quick tug.

Izana’s nose wrinkles, but she sashays out of range from his halfhearted swipe. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hey!” Obi’s head ducks down, peeking around the corner. “That’s racist. I’ll have you know Beaumains has never seen a detail in his whole life.”

Kiki snorts. “I can believe it.”

“Obi, have you ever heard of a feat called Toughness?” Mitsuhide asks, his voice faint with distance. “I think that might bridge the gap while...”

The rest of his comment fades into an indistinct murmur, muffled by the angles and floor between them. By the time Obi answers, he’s the same, only a dancing sing-song above her. Shirayuki smiles, satisfaction warming her just as thoroughly as the cardigan she wraps around her shoulders. Despite all the, ah, hullabaloo tonight, Obi is already well on his way to making friends.

She drops the last emerald gem of her dice into her bag, setting it on the tray on the table. All she needs is to collect her notes, and--

“Shirayuki,” Izana murmurs, too soft. “If you have a moment.”

Her head jerks up, and she’s suddenly aware: there are only two people left in this room. Izana’s watching her with that steady, inscrutable gaze of his, as if he’s about to ask her to make a roll she has no skill points in, and she-- she--

Breathes. It doesn’t help with the stomach-knotting fear in her gut, or displell the knee-trembling sensation of being asked to stay after class. Not just by a teacher, but her favorite teacher; the one she studies for on weekends just so that she’s that extra toe ahead. Just that smidge more special, so that she can earn her gold-star praise.

And yet here she is, held after class still. She slumps into her seat, hands knitted in front of her. Where did Zen go, anyway? She hadn’t seen him--?

“He went up first,” Izana replies, even though she’s sure she hadn’t said a thing out loud. “Excuse me, it was obvious you were trying to find my brother. But he slunk up while Obi and Mitsuhide were talking about magic items, and I figured that you, well, hadn’t been keeping your eye on him...”

He lifts a too-knowing brow, and she squirms. “Is there a, um, problem? Did I do anything that--?”

“Oh, no no. You haven’t done anything.” Izana waves a hand, dissipating all her worries clouding the air. His mouth twists, curling into a rueful smile. “I merely wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” She wouldn’t have thought he was acquainted with the concept. At least, outside of statements penned by no less than three HR managers.

“Yes.” He shifts, and it dawns on her-- he’s uncomfortable. Not due to a lumpy cushion or a tingling limb, but because he means what he says. He’s going to apologize. “I recognize that some actions on my part caused you to be put into an...uncomfortable position tonight.”

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

His breath hisses through his teeth. “This is far from the first time I have run a session. I should have realized that introducing such a volatile plot element this early in your tenure might...put a strain on the group’s chemistry.” He hesitates, fingers stilling where he picks at the edge of his journal. “Even if it was an agreed upon element of your backstory, I put you in a position that I was not clear in communicating the breadth of for...personal reasons.”

As pretty as his words were, they cleared up precisely nothing. “I don’t think I understand...?”

“Ah, yes, of course not. How should I put this...?” He drums a swift, asynchronous beat on the table; not music, just nerves. “Whenever I work with someone to create their character, I make sure they hand me...leverage. Things I might use to spur them into motion, if need be, or draw them deeper into the story as it is woven.” His mouth quirks. “I’m sure you suspect just which elements those might be for Lynet.”

A red gauntlet flashes in her mind, spiked and grasping, and Shirayuki fails to bite back a grimace. She’s definitely given him more than enough rope to hang her, if it suited him.

“It’s my job to appropriately apply it. To wound you with exquisite precision, if you will.” His hands still, pressing flat against the glossy wood. “I was careless tonight. I should have anticipated that the reaction a former lover might garner would not be...mild.”

“Oh.” Her head tilts. “You mean Shuuka?”

Izana stares. “...Yes?”

Shirayuki twitches her shoulders, more of a shrug than she’s seen Obi give. “Lover is a bit strong, but I wasn’t...upset? It was fun to have Lynet’s story show up so early. I know they’re on her quest right now, but...now she feels less like an, um, escort mission, and more like a party member, if you know what I mean.”

“I...” His mouth works, and beneath his furrowed brow, she realizes she’s surprised him, somehow. “I do. But you enjoyed the session, even with my brother’s behavior?”

“Of course,” she assures him. “Everyone is invested in their characters, so it’s only natural that tensions would run high. Doesn’t this usually happen?”

Her first impression of Izana had been of his height, of the way he holds himself, like a whip coiled to strike-- or no, better yet, a sword angled to parry. But now it’s his eyes she notices, not the icy pale like she assumed, but the same rich indigo of his brother’s, so deep it reminds her of Antarctica, a blue so close to black it’s bottomless. But when he looks at her now, light scatters to make them warmer, a sea more pleasant than its usual frigid waters.

“Ah...” A hand delicately covers his face, long fingers splayed over the sharp rise of his cheekbones. His shoulders shake, and for a moment she’s concerned, but he-- he’s laughing. “My brother really wasn’t kidding about you, was he...?”

She doesn’t see what’s so funny. “Excuse me?”

He lifts his hand, dismissing his good humor with a wave. “Never mind, it’s nothing. I’m glad you were comfortable, but nonetheless, you have my gratitude. Plenty of other experienced players wouldn’t handle this with half as much aplomb as you, Shirayuki.”

“Well...” Her fingers knit in her lap, knotting together like her nerves. “If you feel like you need to apologize to someone, you should consider Obi.”

That draws him up short, his hooded eyes blinking wide. “I’m sorry?”

“I just...” She bites her lip, measuring out her words. The dose makes the poison, Busha says, and it works for words as well as wellness. “Maybe I’m more sensitive to this because I don’t have, um, siblings, but...it felt like Obi was always in the position to rile Zen up because you put him there. And that’s not really...nice. Especially since he’s a new player, just like me.”

Izana’s lips part, but he presses them tight again, curling into a too-knowing smirk. “I appreciate your concern for a fellow player,” he says mildly, even as his mouth stretches wider with every word. “But please believe me when I say, Obi knew full well what he was getting into when he took a seat at this table.”

What’s unfair is that Izana invited that guy for the specific purpose of scaring Shirayuki off, and no one seems to care. Zen doesn’t lose an ounce of his bitterness in memory, but it rings at a truer tone now, watching Izana lounge behind the table, confidence palpable.

“Still,” she insists, tearing her gaze away to trace wood grain instead. Something steadying, rather than the constant agitation she feels looking at him. “Even if he was prepared for it, it’s not like taking the brunt of Zen’s attitude was any more comfortable for him than you assumed it would be for me.”

It’s the weight of his attention that draws her back into it, the way his eyebrows sit so heavily over his gaze. “You have a point,” he admits slowly, finger picking up their asynchronous beat once again. “I’ll make sure to tender an appropriate apology to our resident demon for his service.”

“Devil,” she reminds him. “I was only in the splash zone their whole...conflict, and I can’t imagine it was fun on either side.”

“Oh, you were a little closer than that,” Izana hums, but before she can ask what he means, he rolls up to his feet, towering over her. “Come, I’ll walk you up.”

She frowns, scurrying out of her seat. “I can handle the stairs myself.”

“Of course you can,” he soothes, smile taking a more genuine tilt. “But it would be my pleasure.”

He holds out an arm, gesturing up the stairwell, standing there like some gentleman out of a period piece, and, well-- it’s hard to argue with that one. At least this is something she can tell Kihal later that she won’t turn into some Cute College Boy romance fodder.

(It’s doesn’t occur to her that it would, however, cause Hot For Teacher fodder; not until it is far too late)

Shirayuki crests the top of the stairs, Izana not far behind, and her first sight-- besides the immaculately maintained foyer and its ostentatious and assumed-real crystal chandelier-- is Obi looming over Zen, smirk firmly in place as they linger at the door. Blocking really, but since Mitsuhide and Kiki are nowhere to be seen, she assumes that they at least waited for them to leave before starting in on their next round of verbal fisticuffs.

It’s instinct to get between them; Shirayuki makes a habit of giving the benefit of the doubt, but the past four hours have only proven that these two get along like Mentos and seltzer. She takes one soft step, the soles of her ballet shoes slapping against the wood, before she realizes-- they’re talking. Nicely.

“--It’s worth asking,” Zen concludes, sweater shrugged casually around his shoulders. “Izana can be a hard ass, but I think you have plenty of ground to ask for a--”

Obi’s the first to look up; a slow lift of his eyes until they meet hers. Zen must catch the change, subtle as it is, since he whips around, eyes widening. “Shirayuki!”

He bounds over to her, hands coming to fit right around the caps of her shoulders. His eyes flick over her, searching, though she can’t imagine what for until he asks, “Are you all right?”

“Ah..?

He glances dubiously behind her, right to where Izana looms, smug satisfaction wafting off of him in waves. “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

That gets a huff. “I am right here,” Izana informs him, prim. “I can hear you.”

Casting aspersions, he doesn’t say, but he may as well have for how loud it’s not. Zen shrugs it off with all the ease of a sibling. “You know what you’re like.”

Izana’s laugh could make plants wither and die. “Do I...?”

“I’m fine!” Her hands wave, carving out space between them. “Izana just wanted to talk about, um--” your behavior was the exact way to make this worse, true as it is-- “Lynet’s backstory. Since I, ah, improvised some of it during the session tonight.”

She’s not sure what she did to deserve two Wisterias staring at her, but she’s starting to regret it.

“Really?” Zen doesn’t have to sound so incredulous when he says it. It’s not like she’s been in the habit of lying to him. “That’s all?”

“Yes,” Izana hums, too amused for comfort. “I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. After all, Lynet has provided me with so much...raw material.”

He smiles the way a poke feels, and every part of Zen bristles. “You better not be planning to--”

“It amuses me how you think you have any foot to stand on when it comes to--”

“Hey, milady.” Obi strolls up beside her, pitched just too loud to be natural. “You ready to bounce?”

She blinks, the interlocking hamster wheels that make up the innermost workings of her brain clunking together as she tries to parse what he’s saying. “Oh,” she murmurs, the stars aligning and gears meshing. “Yes, I’m ready to, um, leave.”

“Thank you.” Izana twists away from his brother’s glare, the very picture of a congenial host. “For coming. And your gift. I plan on enjoying them.” He cuts a superior glance over his shoulder. “Alone.”

“Ah...” She glances back at Zen, watching the way crimson creeps up his neck, curling over his ears. “You can share them, if you’d like.”

“Oh, I know,” he assures her, walking them to the door. “But I won’t. Have a nice evening.”

The door shuts, gently swooshing into place, and the moment the lock catches, Zen’s voice erupts wordlessly from behind it.

“Well.” Obi blinks at the frosted glass. “That makes me glad I’m an only child.”

She lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Me too.”

Shirayuki’s only known Obi a week, but already she knows one thing for sure: it’s easy to be quiet with him.

Not that she doesn’t want to talk-- she does, she’s dying to, but when the car’s already idling at the top of the portico, they slip in without much more than a here (for when he opens her door), a thank you (for when she take the invitation), and one sec (the last thing he murmurs before trotting over to the driver’s side). And now that they’re underway, rolling out between the loops of that wrought-iron W, she finds that she isn’t concerned about providing conversation.

She settles back into the seat, giggling when the plastic creaks beneath her. Plush leather interiors this isn’t, but the seat’s at just the right height to kick her heels up on the dash, toes tapping over the silvery ACCORD label in the corner.

“Hey,” he hums, nearly lost in the soft beat of his music, turned down so low all she can hear is the beat of drums and the faint warble of a singer. “Sorry if I interrupted anything. It just looked like you might need an assist.”

Shirayuki blinks. “You mean--? Just now?” She scoffs. “A rescue is more like it.”

“Nah.” He turns the wheel, shaking his head. “You have the both of them handled. I just thought you could use the break from the balancing act.” His teeth flash in the dim light of the dash. “And I’m a walking target to Wisterias.”

The correct thing to say would be, thank you. Simple, quick, to the point. If she really couldn’t leave well enough alone, there was always, good thing they were too busy with each other to bother with either of us.

But instead she chomps at the soft flesh of her cheek, desperate to keep her opinion locked behind her teeth. It’s no use; she manages a spiky, awkward silence before the lashings fly loose, and she says, “We all like you, you know.”

It’s a good thing they’re at a stop light, since Obi’s head whips toward her, eyes so wide she can see them shine gold. “Wha..?”

“I mean, you’re a great addition to the party,” she flounders, taking every ounce of self-control to keep her hands from snapping up to cover her face. “Beaumains’ skills are an asset.”

Obi’s mouth curls into a rueful grin. “Even if he’s lacking in the CON department.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she insists, too earnest as always. “The fact that he isn’t sworn to Arturius adds a lot of inter-party tension in a way that’s interesting. It forces our characters to examine their own motivations, and what the concept of the Round Table means, rather than just blindly following his lead.”

She should stop. That’s enough of a lecture, more than Obi probably wants to sit through from a girl who doesn’t even have her own license, but the words keep sloshing out of her, like a levee straining under a seven-years flood.

“If Zen made you feel like you’re not wanted, it’s not true.” Her hands rattle like leaves in her lap. “He doesn’t speak for all of us. I know I’d miss Beaumains if he stopped questing with us, so, um.” Her teeth pluck at her lip. “Don’t quit. If you were considering it. Being Lynet wouldn’t be as fun without you.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Long enough for her words to echo back in her ears, for her to realize that she practically begged him--

He laughs.

“Oh, don’t worry.” It’s a dark, rumbling sound that has her flushing from head to toe. “I wasn’t. It takes more than a little temper tantrum to drive me away when I’m having fun.”

“Oh,” she breathes, hands clapped to her cheeks. “Ah...”

“Besides,” he hums, softer. “Me and the Prince of the Britons and the Angles or whatever had a good chat before you and His Majesty arrived. We’re good now.”

“Good now?” She frowns darkly. “Zen better have apologized.”

“Well,” he wheedles, “as close as guys get to that sort of thing.”

“That would be an apology,” she informs him, “since ‘sorry’ isn’t gender specific.”

It’s hard to make out any details in the dark; even with the streetlights and the dash he’s more a shadow limned with light than human. But even still, she could swear she sees his shoulders tremble, hedging in his face.

“Is that so?” he hums, amused. “No worries, my lady, your devoted swain cannot be scared away, even by the whims of princes. Plus, I already agreed to let Big Guy help me out with my little CON problem. It’d be rude for me to bail now.”

“Oh.” She might burn alive from how hot her cheeks are. “So you were already...and I just...said all that for...?” She coughs. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“While you were saying such nice things about me? Milady.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I’d never. Besides, you get real cute when you’re fired up.”

His eyes slant toward her, mouth to match, and something in the vicinity of her stomach quivers. “O-oh.”

“Ah...” Obi coughs, gaze sliding back toward the road. “Anyway, it’s not like His Highness didn’t have a point.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Of course he didn’t,” she huffs. “You weren’t trying to ruin the game on purpose.”

His grin stretches into a grimace. “Ah, well, that’s what I mean, Red. That first session...” His breath hisses between his teeth. “Well, let’s just say, there’s a reason why Beaumains’ CON is so low.”

Every line of his silhouette tense as she asks, “What do you mean?”

One hand raises off the wheel, thumb digging into the meat of his shoulder. “I didn’t think I’d be playing him more than once.”

“But Izana said...”

“I owed Izana a favor,” he admits, every word a pulled tooth. “He asked me to help him scare away some gold digger that was sniffing around his precious little bro.”

Gold digger. Shirayuki blinks. She’d been under the impression that people like that provided activities a little more alluring than playing an off-brand wizard once a week. “And so you...?”

“Agreed, yeah.” His shoulders twitch up into a shrug. “I thought I’d be providing a public service. But it turned out that the only thing this girl was trying to dig up was fantasy plants. And by the end of it I was, uh, having fun, so...”

“You came back,” she murmurs, stunned. “Because you liked playing with--” me-- “us.”

“Yeah.” He lets out a weak laugh. “Turns out Beaumains’ type is girls who don’t scare easy.”

He turns down her street, car slowing to a crawl, only the soft hum of the radio between them, and she wonders why she’s so tempted to ask, but what about you?

“Hey, so,” he coughs, clearing both the air and his throat. “If you don’t want me to come back, it’s fine. I can tell Izana that it’s not--”

“What?” She twists in her seat, meeting his wide eyes. “When did I say that?”

“You...” He licks his lips, then turns back to the wheel, hands clenched at ten and two. “You didn’t. But considering how you know I was trying to ruin this for you, I thought it followed that you might be sick of my face.”

She blinks. “But you did a bad job of it.”

A laugh bursts out of him, a surprise to them both. “Wow, uh, thanks, kid.”

“No, I mean...” She shakes her head, trying to clear the slate of her thoughts. There’s too much on there for her to be able to put anything coherent in the air between them. “You weren’t trying very hard. And when you could have just ducked out entirely, you came back. Besides,” she offers him a shy smile, “you aren’t trying to get rid of me now, are you?”

“...No,” he breathes, the gold of his eyes intense where they meet hers. “I’m definitely not.”

His hand twists, killing the engine. In any other car, the music would keep playing, but Obi’s is from when grown adults wore sparkly butterfly clips in their hair and dressed in space-age metallic pleather, so it cuts out, sharp and obvious, leaving them in silence.

She glances at him from the corner of her eyes, tracing the hunched curl of his body over the steering wheel.

“So what was your plan, anyway?” she asks, conversational, planting her elbow on the center console and tucking a hand beneath her chin. “You were trying to make me uncomfortable, right? That’s why there was all that cloak and dagger.”

“Izana thought you might get the hint if someone made you feel seen,” he admits, settling back into the seat. His eyes narrow, gold tracing down to their corners. “So I just went with that.”

Her mouth twitches into a grin. “And you thought flirting might make me uncomfortable enough to go?”

“Ah...no.” He scratches the back of his head. “That was natural.”

Shirayuki’s read about spontaneous combustion before, and in this moment, she finally understands how it might happen. “Oh.”

He grunts, shifting in his seat. “I didn’t expect our characters to have so much, er...”

“Synergy?” she offers.

“No,” he breathes, peering down at her with molten eyes. “Chemistry.”

Her hands clench hard in her lap, unsure of what to do with themselves. Or rather, they’re certain, but whatever plans they have, they haven’t seen fit to tell the rest of her. Well, beyond suggesting that Obi’s thermal looks very soft beneath his button-down.

“Anyway.” It’s less a word and more an inhale, Obi vaulting himself upright to clutch the wheel. “You better get inside before your grandparents think we’re up to something.”

They’d probably love it if they were. Shirayuki bites her lips to keep from saying so.

His hands fly up between them, eyes wide. “Not that I would! That’d be, um...”

“Ah.” It’s silly to feel disappointed, not when she doesn’t even want to, um, hm--

“Not that there’s anything wrong with you,” he’s quick to add, mouth clenched to a grimace. “I just mean, you’re, ah--” his gaze swings toward her, and when it does--

It’s...a lot.

“Ah,” he hums, faint. “Never mind.”

“I should...” She licks her lips, suddenly aware of every nerve ending that terminates in her epidermis. “Go?”

“Yes, good.” He doesn’t sound relieved in the slightest as she slides out, just winded. “Great plan.”

Jaja and Busha are waiting when she steps inside.

“Did you have a good time?” Jaja asks archly, newspaper casually laid open on his lap. “You were out there a while.”

She sighs, eyes rolling. “Jaja...”

Busha bustles over to the window, peeking through the blinds. She can’t possibly see him-- she’d be hard pressed to find anyone more than a few feet in front of her in broad daylight, let alone across the courtyard in the middle of the night, but that won’t stop her from trying.

“More importantly,” she intones, dire. “Did you ask him to dinner?”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons and dragons au #my fic #ans #this is 2 out of 3 of the updates I have planned for this fic!#ch 10 should be coming late October #though that's....subject to change depending on how rough obiyukiweek prep gets #but expect a change of POV #>:3c

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