#it's gotten grating for some reason I think it might be the pitch??? shrug

[cuddlepilefics]

Migraine

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Mark

Caregiver: Jackson & Jinyoung

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Being the quietest member certainly had its perks, Mark realized when he woke up feeling off. He didn’t know what exactly was wrong, so he didn’t want to worry his friends. Throughout breakfast, the oldest had been quiet but nobody thought much of it, as he was always quiet. What Mark didn’t know was that his roommate had noticed. Jackson knew the older very well, as you do after living together for years. He could tell his hyung wasn’t feeling himself, though he couldn’t tell exactly what was wrong or what had given it away. It was more like a gut-feeling, that something wasn’t right. Jackson was relieved that they’d spend the entire day at the studio because he couldn’t imagine Mark would be up for dancing today. They’d have a lot of recording to do, which wasn’t too stressful and consisted mainly of revising lyrics and waiting for their turn to record. Maybe the oldest could take a nap until he had to record and would be fine with just a little more rest. Going back to their room to get ready to head out, Jackson got only more worried. It was his hyung’s clothing choice that stuck out to Jackson like a red flag. Mark had that extremely old and washed-out hoodie, which he had brought from the US when he first came to Korea to train. By now, it was far from fashionable and served more as a comfort item, which the rapper usually wore when he didn’t feel well or was home-sick. Him putting it on now, confirmed the younger’s suspicions.

“Hyung, are you feeling alright?”, Jackson asked, barely stopping the older from leaving their shared room. Mark turned around and looked at him confused, muttering: “Sure, why?” – "You’re wearing that hoodie. You always wear it when you don’t feel good”, Jackson pointed out. Glancing down his outfit, the oldest realized that his dongsaeng was right. He just hadn’t expected anyone to pick up on it. Shrugging, he replied: “I feel a bit off, maybe didn’t sleep enough.” Jackson nodded, not fully buying it but following his hyung to the living room anyway. They waited for everyone else to finish up and then headed out together. During their drive to the studio, Mark started to question himself. Jackson’s comment had sparked his worry. He hadn’t put on that hoodie deliberately, it had just happened on top of already feeling weird. What was going on with him? Being so deep in thought, he didn’t even notice how they pulled up in front of the company building. “Are you coming, hyung?”, Jaebeom’s voice startled him from his thoughts and Mark nodded quickly, wincing when the fast movement caused his head to ache. He quickly climbed out of the vehicle, stumbling a bit before he was able to get his footing. Watching him stumble, Jackson linked their arms and walked him up to their studio. The older couldn’t help but be flustered. He felt fine, right? He didn’t need help to walk.

Jackson was the first one to record with Jaebeom as the producer, so Mark sat with the rest of the members, revising his lyrics and warming up his voice. The headache he had gotten from nodding his head to fast earlier was still lingering, so he decided his voice was warmed up enough and quietly sat there, reading over his lyrics. Or rather, pretending to read over his lyrics as they were blurring together in front of his eyes. The rapper winced, massaging his temples. Maybe that was why he had been feeling off. He carefully reached for his water bottle and took a few sips before going back to revising. The headache only increased the longer he looked at the small-print, so he closed his eyes for a few seconds, quickly opening them again as he felt the room spinning. It took Mark a while to put the pieces together. Every now and again, he suffered from migraines and this felt like the beginning of one. The odd feeling this morning, the ache from moving too fast and the dizziness. It all made sense now. From this point on, Mark knew it would only get worse as the day progressed but what could he do about it? They had deadlines for their new album and he didn’t want to hold them back. He had to record now because they had a too tight schedule to postpone his recording. Anxiously glancing towards the recording booth, the rapper made up his mind. As soon as Jackson would be done, he’d convince the others to let him record next. He should get it over with as soon as possible before getting too useless and miserable later.

Mark tried to speak up when Jackson exited the recording booth but for some reason, he felt frozen in his spot. Jinyoung went in to record next as the oldest sat motionlessly in his seat. “You okay?”, Jackson mouthed, sitting down next to him and nudging his shoulder to get his attention. The older nodded before realizing his mistake and scrunching his face up in pain at the movement. Jackson obviously didn’t believe him after that, pulling out his phone to text Mark that he looked awful and was acting far from okay. Knowing he couldn’t look at his bright phone screen, Mark leaned closer to his dongsaeng and whispered barely audible: “’m developing a migraine.” He could see shock and understanding flash across the younger’s face within a split second before Jackson replied as quietly: “How bad is it yet and when did it start?” – “Started when I got out of the car and it’s not too bad yet. My head hurts but it’s bearable and my stomach’s starting to churn a bit”, Mark answered truthfully, aware that the younger would immediately assume the worst if he didn’t. "Do you want some water and do you have your medicine with you?”, Jackson worried. Closing his eyes, the oldest hummed: “Already had lots of water, my meds are at home.” He knew that he was supposed to take his medication with him for situations like this but somehow, he had forgotten and didn’t find the energy to scold himself for it now. He kept his eyes closed, as Jackson wordlessly started to massage his neck, helping him to relax.

When Jinyoung exited the recording booth, Jackson was quick to speak up, announcing that Mark was going next. He had taken care of the older on similar occasions before and was well aware that his hyung would only be getting worse from, especially without his migraine medication. Mark shot him a grateful smile before forcing himself up from the couch. He swayed dangerously for a moment before making his way into the recording booth on wobbly legs. His vision blurred as the rapper stood behind the mic. Just standing on his own two feet had made the pain a lot worse, the pounding being all Mark could focus on. He knew he couldn’t put anymore pressure on his head if he didn’t want it to explode but reached for the headphones anyway. His hands shook as he put them on painfully slow. He had torn them off again in barely half the time he had needed to put them on, crying in pain as he fell to his knees. His head spun and his stomach churned. At first, he didn’t even notice the hand on his back, which later turned out to belong to Jackson, who had barged into the booth the second Mark had cried out. He had kept a closer eye on his hyung ever since he admitted to suffering from another migraine.

The members felt helpless as their oldest cried in pain on the floor of the recording booth. Jackson held him, soothingly rubbing his back, but was unable to provide enough comfort. By the way Mark clutched his head, they knew he had a migraine, having witnessed it a couple of times over the course of their career, so Jinyoung turned off the lights and quietly approached the pair with a bottle of water. “Hyung, do you think you can stomach some water?”, he asked carefully. The older replied tensely: “I-I need to be sick.” Quickly scooping him up, Jackson tried to get to the bathroom as fast as possible without jostling his sick hyung too much. Mark had already turned a few shades paler by the time they made it there and relied on the younger’s support to keep himself upright in front of the toilet. His stomach lurched, causing him to pitch forward, and he was grateful for Jackson’s strong arm steadying him. The younger couldn’t help but feel his heart break at his hyung’s pained groans in between the heaves. It didn’t help that Mark had barely eaten anything during breakfast, so after all the water was out, he struggled to bring anything up. He was surprised his head was still in one piece as it felt like exploding over and over again from the strain. After what felt like an eternity, the heaves slowly tapered and Mark weakly slumped back against Jackson’s chest, who tightened his hold on the older. The younger gently brushed his hyung’s sweaty hair out of his eyes before reaching for some toilet paper to clean him up.

“Are you ready to go home now?”, Jackson asked quietly. He only knew that Mark was still awake because his face was contorted in pain. Tearing up, the older whimpered: “I-I can’t go home. We have deadlines.” – “Hyung, you won’t be able to record like this anyway. You look like a corpse and I’m afraid you might become one if you don’t rest soon”, Jackson retorted, “I finished already, I can take you home. Doesn’t your bed sound really tempting, right now?” – “It does”, Mark had to admit hoarsely. Still shaky on his legs, he allowed his dongsaeng to pull him to his feet and onto his back. Trying to keep his steps light, Jackson carried him back to the studio, so they could inform the others about leaving. “I’ll come with you, I’m done already too”, Jinyoung announced, collecting their belongings while Jaebeom called them a driver. Mark kept his eyes closed through all of it, reminding himself that gritting his teeth would only make the pain worse. Suddenly there was a gently hand on his head, stroking his hair, and he heard Jaebeom’s voice close to his ear. “Get some rest and don’t worry about our deadlines, I’ll reschedule the recording for you”, the leader hummed softly. Mark replied with a sleepy: “Thanks.” Then he felt Jackson move and Jinyoung instructed: “Keep your eyes closed, we’re almost outside and it’s rather sunny.” It wasn’t like Mark had any motivation to open his eyes anyway, so he let his dongsaeng’s take him to the car. Jinyoung got in first and helped Mark find his seat too. While he buckled the oldest’s seatbelt, Jackson got in on the other side, buckling himself up too before adjusting the air conditioning.

They spent the ride in silence with Mark resting on Jinyoung’s shoulder and Jackson holding his hand for emotional support. The older was so out of it that he didn’t pay any attention to the other two distributing tasks as they pulled up in front of their dorm building. Jinyoung unbuckled their seatbelts before going ahead to the dorm to let the other two in and Jackson helped the dizzy Mark out of the vehicle and onto his back again. They made their way to the dorm much slower than their dongsaeng, who took off Mark’s shoes while Jackson struggled out of his. He then carried the oldest straight to their room and lowered him on his bed. “Shorts or sweatpants?”, he hummed, opening his hyung’s closet. Peeling himself out of his jeans, Mark muttered: “Shorts please.” He changed with some difficulties before laying down and pulling his pillow over his head. While Jackson closed the blinds, Jinyoung came in with a bucket, some water and his hyung’s migraine medication. “Hyung, can you sit up for a moment? I’ve got your meds”, the vocalist whispered, gently removing the pillow. Before even trying to sit up, the older warned: “I-I might need to be sick again.” – “That’s okay, I brought a bucket but try to keep the pills in as long as possible”, Jinyoung assured, helping his hyung to sit up. Mark downed the pills with only a few small sips of water, afraid they’d come right back up. Jackson had ventured into the kitchen and collected two icepacks, while his dongsaeng helped Mark get under the blanket properly. “Wait”, he hummed lowly, returning to their room, “Lay your head on my lap.” Sitting down against the wall close to the headboard, Jackson settled the older’s head on his thigh and gently slipped one icepack under his neck before placing the other on his forehead. “Alright, you can go to sleep now, hyung”, the younger rapper smiled, playing with Mark’s hair. Jinyoung sat down on Jackson’s bed, whispering: “I hope you feel better when you wake up.”

#got7 #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #sicktember2021 #fluff #comfort #markson

[aphroditewritings]

Yandere Bokuto

Sometimes she truly wonder how he managed to convince her to come here every time.

As soon as her and Bokuto started dating during the middle of their second years, he had outright begged for her to be there for all of his practices and games. Him staring up at her with those big beautiful yellow puppy dog eyes when she would tell him she might not be able to make his practice that night and spend an hour or two laying or sitting up in the bleachers waiting for Bokuto to finish with his team and take her home, that sometimes she just wants to go home first and rest.

“B-but I’ve been working on a new spike I want to show you! You can’t just leave me!” he would pout big beefy arms draping over her smaller form and causing a scene wherever they were. It wasn’t like she was genuinely uncomfortable when she went which she was grateful for. Bokuto made sure she always had food to eat, something to drink, stuff to keep her occupied for a long time including the DS and Tablet he had gotten her a few Christmas’s ago always at use and her fluffy blanket and pillow stuffed into her separate little duffel bag he had for her in his locker with the rest of her stuff that she used when laying out on the matt the coach always gave her not wanting to let the girl suffer on the uncomfortable bleachers every time she was there. Which was in fact every practice and/or game they had. He figured it was the least he could do for her knowing that on the rare days where under no circumstance she could show up, Bokuto missed balls like he was downright getting paid to make himself look like a fool. So he usually laid out one of the thick rubber matts in the corner of the gym or against the bleachers letting her be more comfortable and using her pillow and blanket than laying on the floor or sitting in the cold medal seats.

It had baffled most of the team at first, seeing the girl trudge through the gym doors every Tuesday and Thursday and game, even showing up for most of the extra practice days they had in the town gym on Sunday’s. Despite being homeschooled herself, being able to spend the day away and in peace from her growing more and more clingy boyfriend gave her a chance to breath. But the day would eventually roll around where Bokuto had a practice or god forbid a game where he expected her to show up with signs and cheering for him louder than anybody, when his mother would pull into her driveway and honk the horn her being just as rambunctious and hyper as her son excitedly driving the girl to said practice or game on the days when her own mother couldn’t drop her off.

Both of their mothers like the true sappy romantics they were always talked about how happy and cute the couple seemed. Bokuto hardly ever went into his “emo phase” as it was called when she was around, his own mom gushing about how much happier she made her son and how grateful she was that Bokuto had met her and how bright and loving her son was when he got to see her.

Hugging her plaid sweater closer to her body she watched as the city passed by her view, tall buildings and skyscrapers becoming fewer and fewer as the minutes passed until Bokuto’s moms car came to a stop in the parking lot outside of the gym. “They should be just starting, see you both in a little bit, sweetie” the woman beamed at her knowing she was coming over to their house to stay for the weekend, something Bokuto suprisingly talked her own mom into letting her do.

Giving the kind woman a small smile she grabbed her small backpack and the bag of fast food his mom had gotten her and Bokuto, hopping out of the car and dusting off her shorts before waving and prying open the gym doors the squeaking and rustic sounds making everyone in the gym turn to look at her.

“Baby!” she heard an exasperated voice yelp before feeling strong arms wrap around her the strong sent of faint sweat and the expensive calonge she had gotten him for his birthday her boyfriend always had on invading her senses. “Hey” she whispered quietly trying to not notice the entire team snickering to themselves as Bokuto planted little kisses everywhere on her face like she had been gone for months. In reality it had only been a few nights, Fukurodani cancelling their Tuesday practice that week because of bad weather and not wanting any students to get hurt walking home.

“Bokuto stop” she whined when he nuzzled his face into her neck breathing in her perfume he always told her he was obsessed with. She was beginning to think that her perfume wasn’t the only thing he was utterly obsessed with. “People are watching” she added finally shoving him back and little and getting a big pout from him. He still held onto her waist eyeing her hungrily and merely shrugged when he heard somebody let out a whistle behind them.

He cupper her jaw in his hand giving her lips a deep passionate kiss and swirling their tongues together before finally stepping back when he heard his coach telling him to quit fooling around and focus now that she was here. “I’ll be over here ok?” she said gesturing her head to the matt in the corner of the gym getting an eager nod from him and watched him run off back to the court. Taking out her blanket and pillow and popped down onto the matt and after eating some of her food fell asleep into a small nap.

Twirling the keys in his hand Bokuto watched as the last of the team piled out of the gym doors the coach giving him instructions to lock up the building for the night. A simple task they knew he could do despite him being...him. It was only putting some stuff away and locking the doors for the night, nothing anybody on the team hadn’t done a million times in the past before them all believeing it was only fair if everybody took turns in locking up instead of placing it all on one person all the time.

Giving one last wave to Kuroo who exited the gym Bokuto quickly put away the racks of volleyballs and mock scoreboards before slowly walking over to Y/N who slept peacefully on the gym matt. Getting on his knees Botuto brushed some hair back from her eyes before placing a light kiss on her lips. He hesitantly lifted the blanket off of her body his breath hitching a bit seeing her shorts had rode up on her body a bit in her slumber. Nervously he crouched in front of her pealing her legs open and beginning to unbutton her shorts lightly enough where she wouldn’t wake up.

He had woken her up like this before. Face buried deep and practically inhaling her, his talented and eager tounge bringing her to a wake up call in the form of an orgasm. He had just never done it like this in a place like this is all but he knew you wouldn’t mind. Lifting up ur hips a tad he helped pull your short and panties down tossing them to the side on the gym floor and licking his lips knowing the real treat was to come. Lowering himself down he parted your tighs and used his thumbs to spread your folds apart, his finger lightly rubbing your clit while he practically drooled at the sight.

“Your so pretty baby” he cooed gather spit in his mouth and letting it drop onto your clit dripping down your cunt. Your hips bucked up at the feeling of the cold air your whimers indicating you were going to wake up soon if he continued. Wanting to waste no time he kissed up and down your pussy lips, tongue darting out to lick over your clit. A small gasp came from your mouth you stirring in your sleep making him smirk. “Stay still gorgeous, I got you” he whispered before cracking his neck then diving in.

His lips immediately wrapped around your clit, sucking on it and twirling it around with his tongue in fast motions making your eyes snap open and gasp louder at the feeling. Your eyes darted around trying to access your sourroundings but the feeling of Bokuto’s mouth made your moan and try to arch your back of the matt as he greedily sucked your clit in his mouth. One hand reached up and pushed down on your pelvis making your back fall flat again and more intensely feel what he was doing.

“N-not here Bok—AH!” she exclaimed feeling his fingers entering her and his tounge increasing its pace. Pumping in and out of her and sighing contently into her pussy the vibration going straight to her clit at hearing the squelching sounds coming from her. “Please” she pleaded trying to buck her hips away in embarrassment at the feeling of everything happened echoing loudly off the walls of the gym and in their ears. He continued to lap at her sucking everything up he could and burying his face as deep as it would go, quiet groans and hums of approval and delight coming from him at the sounds she was making for him.

“We’re gonna get caught” she tried to reason only to let out a moan at the end as his thumbs pealed back her clit hood even more and his tounge swirling across the swollen puffy bead. “Don’t worry, the cameras won’t see us I’ve already turned off the lights” he said before sucking her clit back into her mouth and starting to sissor inside of her when he found her sensitive spot. Eyes widening Y/N looked around happy to find that Bokuto meant it when he said that no one but him would ever look at her like that and that he still respected her privacy.

It was pitch black in the gym, the small corner they were in having none of the school cameras in it and only a single few strands of moonlight peaking in over the window above the gym doors shining right down on her pussy and where Bokuto was continueing his brutal and fast pace. “Just let go baby I’m here” he coaxed giving a few kitten licks to her clit before sucking on it again and playing around with it with his tounge before she squealed, finally feeling the coil on her stomach release and snap into white eyed pleasure.

But he didn’t stop at that.

Fucking her through it with his fingers still he ckuckled before bringing his mouth back down and continuing to devour her making her squirm in overstimulation. “Bo I can’t, p-please I need a break” she gasped watching and biting her lip at him slyly looking up at her but continueing to lap at her hungrily. “No breaks” he said giving a loud smack to her butt making her shriek and curl her toes knowing she was in for a night of not being able to walk the next day.

Minutes continued and seemed to drag on and on, the slurping sounds of her boyfriend still lapping at her cunt in the gym until she had came a good 4 times, or maybe 5. She wasn’t really counting and instead wailing and sobbing, tears falling down her face in sheer pleasure as an unfamiliar sensation boiled in her stomach. “B-b-bo I feel like I need to pee” she confessed bashfully knowing she could tell him anything. He chuckled a little continueing to finger fuck her, “You just have to come baby, maybe squirt but it’s ok, it’s all ok I’m with you” he said making her moan even louder and clench down harder when he returned back to sucking her clit again. He cares so much.

“Ah, ah, ah I’m—“ her breath got caught in her throat, a loud wail coming from her as she squirted out liquid onto Bokuto’s chin and mouth him sucking and eating it up like a dog continueing to stimulate her through her orgasam. Finally letting up and allowing her to close her thighs when she began convulsing at the feeling of him still down there he all but jumped up placing a kiss onto her mouth and letting her taste herself as he assisted it getting her clothes back on.

“Mmm” you moaned deeply feeling him give your panty and shorts covered pussy a light tap, the small feeling enough to make you jump. “Let’s get you going” he said excitedly grabbing her things in his arms and picking her up bridal style bringing her outside and carrying her to his home.

#anime #yandere #haikyu x reader #yandere haikyuu

[duelistkingdom]

you’d come back to me

chapter fifteen: romance

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Summary: Seto Kaiba has been presumed dead for four years after the events of Dark Side of Dimensions. His return causes both unresolved feelings of grief to be brought to the surface and the past to be dragged right back up. In hopes of helping Seto move on and reintegrate back into society at large, Mokuba asks Yugi to work on Spherium II with Seto. Never one to leave a friend hanging, Yugi agrees. Over the course of the project, Seto and Yugi both come to terms with their mutual grief and grow towards a better understanding of each other.

Rating: T

Ships: Yugi Mutou/Seto Kaiba, Mokuba Kaiba/Rebecca Hopkins, Katusya Jonouchi/Mai Kujaku

Warnings: aged up characters, grief, references to suicide

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Seto had never really had time for romance before. He’d always had some sort of project and some reason to put it off. It had been easier to avoid dating when no one ever really appealed as someone to have around Mokuba. Between his duty to Kaiba Corp and Mokuba, Seto had dozens of reasons to not date. Now he had none of those reasons. He was starting to find that he actually liked going on dates with Yugi. Most of the time Yugi would take him to dinner. This time, Yugi had asked him to go to a concert with him. Seto had been tempted to turn down the offer simply because the idea of being near people in a standing only capacity gave him hives. Yugi, however, had predicted this and said they had seats.

On the day of the concert, however, Yugi had abruptly said that he needed to get his camera from his childhood bedroom. “Why didn’t you get it before?”

“Forgot about it til now,” Yugi said with a shrug as they entered the Kame Game Shop. Instead of Suguroko, a woman was there with an apron on. “Hi, mom. This is my boyfriend, Seto. Seto, my mom, Yui Mutou. Mom, I thought grandpa was supposed to be working today?”

Seto would have expected that this was a ruse to introduce him to his mother if it wasn’t for that last sentence. Regardless, Seto stiffened as Yui’s eyes went wide. “He was,” she said as she stepped out from behind the counter. It struck Seto how almost everyone in the Mutou family was short. This woman could not have been more than 5’5”. “I wish I’d known you boys were coming over! I would’ve had snacks!”

“There’s no need,” Seto said as Yugi bound up the stairs, leaving Seto behind to fumble with Yui on his own. “We are merely here to pick up a camera from Yugi’s room.”

“Oh,” Yui exclaimed, looking a little embarrassed. “You should probably go tell Yugi that his grandfather took it for repairs. I’ll find another camera for him to use. Oh, also, you two absolutely have to come over again tomorrow. I’ll make dinner and we can get to know each other! I’ll make sure Shogi is here so he can meet you as well.”

Seo was grateful for the excuse to follow Yugi up the stairs, not bothering to wonder who Shogi might be. He supposed in addition to telling Yugi about the camera, he should tell Yugi that his mother wanted the two of them over for dinner. Following Yugi up the stairs of the Kame Game shop felt strange. Partly because he’d never been this far in the shop and partly because it was so much smaller than he’d expected. His head almost grazed the top of the staircase. It was as if he was unwelcome in this home.

It was hitting Kaiba that he’d never actually been in this room. He was too tall for this room designed for someone who was under six foot. The bed looked as if it could barely contain Yugi now that he’d gotten taller than 5’5” and it was neatly made. Yugi turned to him, a raised brow and a look that Kaiba could finally read: vulnerability. “Sorry it’s not much,” Yugi said as he shrugged. “We only need to be here for a moment, anyway. I just… needed to get my camera before we go to the concert.”

Kaiba noted the photos of his friends on the pinboard. Anzu was the most prominent featured across all the photos and the second most prominent was Jonouchi. He noted that the youngest photo of Yugi featured Anzu and Yugi at some sort of playground that Kaiba was certain no longer existed. The photos where Anzu appeared to be about thirteen had Yugi starting to blush around her and Kaiba felt a stab of jealousy. He knew that Yugi had a crush on Anzu at one point but it was strange to see the proof in the photos. Jonouchi did not show up until Anzu appeared to be sixteen while Yugi still looked rather young.

In fact, the only way to date the photos was by how old Anzu was until the year the Pharaoh had left. “I didn’t realize you’d have so many photos in your room.”

Yugi shrugged as he looked around. “I guess I do have a lot of photos,” Yugi remarked, frowning as he stared at one that was clearly taken before the Pharaoh left. “It’s nice to hold memories to your chest, I guess.”

A stabbing ache entered his chest as he thought of the memories he had. Very few of them he’d considered worth preserving on a bedroom wall like this. “Interesting.” Then he remembered what he was here for. “Your mother said your grandfather took your camera for repairs. She’s getting you another camera to borrow.”

Yugi stopped looking through the draw and slammed it shut. “Wish she’d told me that before I started looking for that,” Yugi remarked. “Alright, then let’s go downstairs. Anything else I should know?”

Seto shifted awkwardly. “She also wants us to come over for dinner tomorrow.”

 Yugi had explained that Shogi was the name of his father. Seto supposed he should have known that. Yugi had scoffed when Seto showed up to his apartment in pressed slacks and a button down shirt, remarking that he looked like a dork. Seto would have been more annoyed if it hadn’t led to Yugi reaching out to unbutton his shirt. “You’re just meeting my parents, not pitching a new Duel Disk,” Yugi said and it took everything Seto had to focus on what Yugi was saying. “You don’t need to dress for a board meeting.”

The shirt came off and Yugi handed Seto one of his black turtlenecks that he’d left here. “Isn’t this dirty?”

“Don’t worry, I made sure the clothes you left here got dry cleaned,” Yugi said as he tossed Seto a pair of pants that he’d left behind. “The ones that survived, anyway.”

A blush crept across his cheeks at the mere mention of what tended to happen to his clothes whenever he came over to Yugi’s place. Rather than comment, he instead shuffled off to change as Yugi called out that Seto could’ve changed in the living room. Absolutely not. It gave Seto a chance to think over what he was going to say and do when he met Yugi’s parents. How much of their past did they know? What did they know of the Millennium Puzzle and who had occupied it? He supposed the only way to know those answers would be to ask Yugi directly about it. He exited the bedroom, feeling rather dressed down to meet his boyfriend’s parents. “What do they know about the Puzzle, anyway?”

“Not much,” Yugi said with a shrug as he grabbed his wallet and keys. “They know that you’re why grandpa doesn’t have his Blue Eyes card anymore and they know that I did tournament circuits in high school. They also know grandpa and I went to Cairo in my senior year but they never asked why. I think they think that grandpa was just sharing his love of Egypt with me.”

“They don’t know anything about the Pharaoh?”

Yugi shook his head. “Never bothered to tell them,” he admitted as he led Seto back to his car. Despite everything, Yugi still insisted on driving himself instead of letting Isono drive. “I think they suspected that something was up… after Atem left but they’re under the impression it was simply a break up.”

A break up. Seto supposed it made sense that on top of what little he knew about Yugi that of course his relationship with the Pharaoh had been different from what he thought. He’d assumed Yugi had been irrelevant in the equation, that Yugi had merely been a vessel for the Pharaoh. The more Yugi talked about the Pharaoh, the more Seto realized that Yugi had been more involved than he’d previously thought. “I see.”

“I doubt it’ll come up,” Yugi said with a shrug as the car started. “You don’t have to worry about anything with my parents, I promise.”

Regardless, Seto remained nervous as they arrived at the Kame Game Shop. Instead of going in through the game shop part of the home, Yugi led him through a backdoor that opened into a tiled entryway. The two of them took off their shoes and Seto noted that none of the house slippers would fit him. The pair that apparently were used by Jonouchi was still just a bit too small, leaving his feet still hanging off. Once again, the home’s size was rather small and felt like it was trying to reject him.

The walls were constantly too close and he found himself bumping his elbows against a lot of things. It shouldn’t have been surprising to discover that Shogi Mutou was also short. In fact, Yugi was taller than his father. Shogi, for his part, seemed surprised to see Seto standing in front of him. “I see,” Shogi remarked. “When you said Seto, Yui, I wasn’t expecting it to be Seto Kaiba.”

Yui nudged Shogi with a roll of her eyes as the group sat down at the table. Seto didn’t bother to comment that he wasn’t bothered by Shogi’s reaction. It was entirely possible that most people did not expect a formerly dead CEO to be their son’s date. “Dad, please,” Yugi said and it struck Seto how much Yugi sounded as if he was still a teenager whenever he was around his parents. Was this the impact of parents? Did they make someone act younger? “Don’t embarrass me in front of my boyfriend.”

“Fine,” Shogi said with a grin and Seto saw exactly where Yugi got his smile from. “So you’re still working for Kaiba Corp, right? I heard your brother wouldn’t give you back the CEO position when you came back.”

Seto wasn’t expecting an immediate question on his line of work. “Mokuba felt that I was not yet prepared to return to work at full capacity,” Seto responded, figuring it would be better to not lie to Yugi’s parents. “Instead, he asked me to work with Yugi on Spherium II. I suppose it was to see how I could handle any level of workload.”

“You say that as if you didn’t attempt to stay late several days to work on Spherium II,” Yugi remarked and Seto noted the food in front of them. As Yui promised, it was clearly home cooked and Seto realized that Yugi must have learned to cook from her. He took an experimental bite. It was delicious. “And before you ask, dad, it’s in the beta phase. We’re hoping it’ll be ready for general public release next year. Mokuba and I have been talking about making sure that the Kame Game Shop gets exclusive first launch rights.”

“I’m sure our franchisers will be grateful to have access to such an exclusive launch,” Shogi remarked. “Have you talked to your grandfather about the display?”

“How many times do I have to tell you and Yugi no shop talk at dinner,” Yui said, sounding rather fond instead of truly angry. “Where’s Mokuba, by the way? I was hoping to see him again.”

“He’s having a date night with Rebecca,” Yugi remarked. “I’ll invite him and Rebbeca next time.”

Next time? As in, Yugi expected Seto to come to dinner with his parents again at some point in the future? Seto didn’t understand why Yugi would just assume that this was going to end well. Seto still wasn’t sure that this dinner wouldn’t go south. “Oh, good,” Yui said, looking rather pleased. “I’m glad Rebecca and Mokuba are still together. How is Rebecca’s studies going?”

“She’s hit a wall in her dissertation and has been talking it over with her postgrad supervisor,” Seto answered before Yugi could. “I don’t know why she’s so concerned about the contents of it, however. She’s concerned that the discussion of the AI that Duel Links runs might have been a topic someone else sniped. As if anyone else could understand it the way Rebecca and I do. Aside from that, she’s doing fine.”

If this was news to Yugi, he didn’t show it. “You’ve been helping her, then,” Yui asked. “That’s nice.”

Yugi rolled his eyes in response to that. “Well, Seto did build the entire AI for Duel Links,” Yugi remarked and for a minute, Seto thought he might bring up the AI version of the Pharaoh. Instead, Yugi had a grin on his face. “Makes sense that he’d be able to help Rebecca write a paper on the subject.”

It was strange how this conversation seemed on surface level to be rather low stakes. Nothing either Shogi nor Yui asked ever felt like it was out to get him. Despite this, Seto felt like he was being tested on something he had not prepared for. If Yugi’s parents didn’t like him, would Yugi break up with him? He had to impress Yugi’s parents, if not for the sake of his relationship with Yugi. His entire future with Yugi was at stake. Everything seemed to be going well until Suguroku showed up halfway through. “Sorry about being late,” he remarked, looking rather jovial. “You know how I get caught up with the slots at the casino.”

“Dad, you know how I feel about that joke,” Yui responded, her exasperated sounding voice not pairing right with the fond expression in her wide, soft eyes. “You should know better than to go to the casino.”

“Ah, it’s not gambling if I win,” Suguroku said, eyeing Seto with a twinkle in his eyes. Seto instantly thought back to how Suguroku had wiped the floor with Seto when playing poker. If there was anyone that could win at a casino, Seto would imagine it would have to be Suguroku. “Isn’t that right, Seto?”

Yugi looked embarrassed. “Grandpa, don’t tell me you swindled Seto out of his money.”

“Dad,” Yui said, looking shocked. “Did you play poker with Seto?”

“He’s a fantastic poker player,” Seto said, figuring that there was no point in hiding that Suguroku had indeed pulled one over on him. “I wasn’t expecting him to be that much of a challenge.”

“If you want another challenge, you know where to find me,” Suguroku said, looking rather gleeful. Seto was surprised to find that he did, in fact, want to try to beat Sugoroku again at his own game. “Don’t worry, Yui. I won’t ruin dinner by schooling Seto in the art of poker.”

“And yet no one seems to ever learn,” Shogi remarked. “You know, Seto, when I first met Suguroku, he immediately took all the money I was planning on using for my date with Yui in a game of poker. Instead of taking her to the movies as I planned, I wound up taking her to the park for a walk.”

Suguroku laughed as if this was a funny story. “Well, at least it proves you were good at thinking on your feet,” he added on. “Besides, Yui thought it was sweet!”

“I thought it was charming and unique,” Yui said, a fond look in her eyes. “I wouldn’t trade that first date for anything. Besides, you made up for it with the next date. He took me to this wonderful restaurant that served the best crab legs you’ll ever have.”

“See,” Suguroku said with a wink at Seto. “Always a second chance to make a better impression.”

There was something buried in that and Seto couldn’t understand it. Was Suguroku still angry with him for what had happened? No, that couldn’t be it. It was very clear that Suguroku was well past everything that had happened all those years ago. “This is true,” Shogi said. “Not only that, you might find that it’s for the best that things happened the way they did.”

“Though I do have to ask,” Suguroku said, looking mischievous. “When are you planning on making an honest man out of my grandson?”

“Dad,” Yui exclaimed, looking mortified. “Sorry, he did that to Shogi too,” she said, sounding as if she was trying to smooth things over. Despite Yui and Yugi’s mortified expression, Seto couldn’t relax. The concept was overwhelming and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Yugi said in a rush, a bright red flush appearing across his cheeks. “Seriously, grandpa, there’s no need to pressure anyone here.”

Despite the assurances from Yugi and his parents, Seto started to wonder when that would be expected of him. Was he ready for that? Seto did want a future with Yugi. That was all he knew. He didn’t know what marriage would mean here, nor did he know what that would feel like. What he knew as of right now was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Yugi. What was marriage if not a promise of that? Still, it was not something he wanted to discuss with Yugi’s parents as of yet. Not until he knew for sure that he was ready.

In fact, he was certain that if he wanted to be worthy of marrying Yugi, there were still a few more things he needed to do before he could reach that point. Seto could only hope that Yugi would be willing to wait for Seto to be certain that he could provide a stable future for the two of them. And as the night went on, Seto started to realize that perhaps he could settle into having a family again. It was strange to feel so welcome.

At the end of the night, Yui grabbed him by the cheeks, pulling him down so she could press a kiss to his forehead. She shoved leftovers in his hands, fretting about how he was simply too skinny. No matter how much he stammered that he was fine, she insisted on trying to take care of him. Was this what a mother was? She told him that he could come over any time if he needed more food. For some reason, he thought that he might actually take her up on the offer if only because dinner had been fantastic.

Shogi had given Seto a polite bow, telling him that he was often out of the city for work and gave Seto his cell phone number. This came with a demand that Seto use it if he needed to talk to anyone. Seto wasn’t sure what use that would be to him. Shogi had pulled Seto aside after Yui finished fretting over Seto. “I know that you don’t have a father in your life,” Shogi said, sounding concerned. Seto had no idea what this had to do with anything. He hadn’t had a father for years. It was the one thing that he knew for sure about this new world he’d come back to. “But if you’re dating my son, that makes you my son too. That means I’m going to be here for you, Seto.”

Despite the temptation to state that he had no need for a father, he couldn’t bring himself to say that. It was strange how it felt like he wanted to both shove Shogi away and start crying in gratitude for the approval. Instead of doing either of those things, he merely nodded. “I’m glad to have your approval of my relationship with your son,” Seto said softly. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

#rivalshipping #rivalshipping fanfic #myfanfic #fanfic: you'd come back to me #fic: you'd come back to me

[vercopaanir]

Somewhere Safe

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 17

Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: After a conversation with Venka and suffering nightmares, you confide in the Mandalorian and Kuiil your worries to keep the children safe. The bounty hunter forms a plan.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings/Rating: T, I think? Romantic themes with a little bit of heat!

Notes: I have gotten a few messages asking if this story will be going a certain route. This chapter, specifically the end, will answer those questions!

AO3

It takes nearly two weeks for the fathier to regain its health fully, and it is a tumultuous time. There are several days when Kuiil isn’t sure the creature would make it through the night, and oftentimes, both Venka and Corde ask to stay up with him while he nurses the sick animal. You worry for the aftermath of the beast, knowing the two children hold soft feelings for it. They are alike, abused and forgotten, sold and branded. Their unspoken bond brings mist to your vision that you fight to keep back.

You whisper your fears to the Mandalorian one night as you sit up in the bed that the Ugnaught continued to insist you sleep in, brushing your hair out and staring up towards the mesh window of the tent.

The Mandalorian sits on the edge of the bed, removing each piece of his armor with diligence. He finally gets down to his helmet and his thick layers beneath, shucking his boots with a grateful sigh. There are no qualms for him to flop back on the bed beside you, his visor trained on the way your hair falls in waves down to your waist. 

“You worry for them.”

“They have been through something that no child should ever have to endure,” you mutter, letting the brush drop in your lap. You wish you could throw it across the room instead. “More loss, more fear can break your spirit after the things they’ve seen.”

You feel warm, bare hands encircle your arms above your elbows, gently pulling you back to lay down. You go without resistance, glancing to the side, only able to see some of the visor that’s now obscured by waves of your hair. Unbothered, the Mandalorian intones, “We will protect them.”

“Not from everything. Not from everyone,” you murmur, turning to look up at the ceiling, only partially aware of his fingers picking your hair from his helmet. “You have so much already to worry about, and I...I can’t even-”

“Stop it.” His tone is harsh, and it makes you flinch from how demanding he is when his hand squeezes your arm tight. “If it weren’t for you, they’d still be in that hole on Cantonica.”

“If it weren’t for you, all three of us would still be there.”

“I’m not arguing about this,” the Mandalorian huffs, letting you go and leaving you cold. “You know how I feel about what you bring to us, what you do for us. Nothing changes that.” 

Us.

You bite your lip, your hand moving across the covers to lace your fingers through his. “I just think sometimes I can do more. I can be more for them,” you whisper, turning your face to look at the outline of his profile in the darkness. His helmet gleams beneath the moonlight. “More for you.”

Suddenly, he turns onto his side, bringing your hand with him so you hug his middle, your body pressed up against his back. You rest your cheek against the curve between his shoulders, listening to him breathe raggedly, and you squeeze him tight.

“You are everything to me.”

The next day, Corde asks if she can try to ride a blurrg. The Mandalorian immediately tells Kuiil he doesn’t like the idea, citing her small stature in comparison to the beat’s giant maw. You listen to them argue back and forth, your interest perking when the bounty hunter mentions how sore he’d been when he was thrown so many times from the foal he had learned with.

You sit in the shade of the stables, a few yards off, practicing Basic Galactic Sign with Venka as the child toddles happily between you and the Mandalorian’s boot. He finally gives in to Kuiil’s reasoning, a sound argument that riding animals will give her an advantage now when she grows older. He marches off to finish binding the dried vegetation that the blurrgs consume for their meal, determined to earn board and bed for all of you by loaning himself as a farmhand to the Ugnaught. You shake your head towards Venka, signing.

He cares for you and your sister very much. We both do.

Venka holds your hand and signs against your palm, since you can’t make out his fingers with your impaired vision, and you feel the motions. His small hands are a bit clumsy, but you incline your head to see what you can.

Corde says he is the best warrior in the galaxy. Is she right?

You smile, your fingers fluttering.

I think so. What do you think?

Venka grins up at you and nods fervently. You reach over and ruffle his hair with no small amount of affection, but you see when his eyes look down at your hands very seriously, slipping deep into thought. You grow concerned when he doesn’t say anything, cupping his chin with your other hand to tilt his face up.

I don’t want to leave you.

Your heart squeezes, eyes widening, and your hands shake as you reply, Who said you are leaving us?

He sighs softly, shrugging his shoulder. I dreamed it.

You open your mouth, wanting to ask more, to allay his fears, but a sudden, high pitched scream is followed by a loud thud. Both of you whirl around just as you see one of the blurrgs running to the other side of the pen, away from Corde who is sprawled in the dirt. It’s completely silent, but even you, without full use of your vision, see her entire body wracking with cries.

Before you can even get to your feet, the Mandalorian is sprinting across the yard, his armor doing nothing to slow him when he hops fluidly over the fence and stumbles toward the little girl. The blurrg has turned back to them both as he picks her up, its hind legs digging in the dirt as if to charge. Kuiil climbs through the fence, though, calling to it with wary hands outstretched to calm its energy.

“Stay here,” you murmur, both to Venka and the child, who holds onto the little boy’s arm with a worried expression, ears drooped in fear.

You follow the Mandalorian into the tent, finding him sitting the little girl down on a cushion and murmuring soothingly to her, “It’s alright. Let me see.” You sit beside her, petting her hair from her tear stained face as she leans into you instinctively. She’s sniffling, trying to swallow hiccups that choke her.

“What happened?” you ask, pressing your lips to the crown of her hair as she allows the bounty hunter to inspect her arm.

“A l-lizard spooked it,” she coughs wetly, her nose leaking. You coo, grabbing a cloth napkin from the table and returning to clean her face.

“Not broken, maybe a sprain,” mutters the bounty hunter, moving away to gather the bag you’d brought with you. You repress a sigh, knowing his tone is one of anger, though certainly not at the child. 

“Most people fall when they learn to ride,” you tell her softly, and when she looks up at you with hopeful, teary eyes, you know it's her pride that hurts more than her arm. You had worn that same expression once, when you’d fallen and tripped as a child unable to see. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t want to learn anymore,” Corde whimpers, pressing her face back into your side.

The Mandalorian returns with a bottle, a clean cloth, and a syringe. His gloves have been removed, tucked into his belt, and the golden skin of his hands seem foreign. His tone is uncharacteristically rough, making you frown when he asks, “Why?”

“Because!” she fidgets as he pours some of the solution onto the cloth, cleaning the scrapes where the gravel had torn the delicate skin of her arm. She sniffles, “It’s scary.” 

You nudge the toe of your boot against his calf, earning a tilt of his visor toward you. Inclining your head toward the little girl, you give him a pleading look, and he seems to understand, glancing between you and the child before drawing himself up a little higher. He resumes the rhythmic strokes with the antiseptic solution against her arm.

“I got thrown trying to learn, too.”

Corde peeks up from your side, blinking doubtfully in his direction.

He focuses on his task, pressing the cold numbing agent against every scrape and scratch, sloughing the dirt away. “More times than I can count, but Kuiil helped me. And he can help you too.” He pauses, setting the cloth aside and taking up the needle. He works the syringe into a small bottle and fills it. She watches with contempt, curling into your side when he flicks the barrel to let out air. Leaning his arm against his knee, he looks up at her with a thoughtful air. His voice is much softer now, and you feel your eyes go misty again. “And we are not people who don’t do something just because we’re afraid. Are we?”

Corde stares at him, her eyes moving between his visor and the needle. She takes a deep breath before shaking her head, and she gives him her arm. He makes it quick, inserting the needle and pressing the plunger with a practiced air before wrapping her tiny bicep with gauze to keep it protected. “You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” he murmurs, turning away to clean up the few medical articles. 

You take the sleeve of your dress and gently wipe her salty cheeks again, smiling. “I told you that you are very brave. See how I was right?”

She gives you a smile, sniffling and nodding bashfully. “I want to be brave like you. Like a Mandalorian.” 

The bounty hunter’s hands pause over the medical supplies, glancing towards you as if to gauge your reaction. You are not sure what he expects to see, or what he fears he might, but your heart lifts when the girl smiles up at you.

“I think you are.” 

Corde holds her arm gingerly, standing up. “I’m going to try again,” she declares, her voice still edged with tears but determination setting her chin high.

“Give it a few minutes!” you laugh, watching as she marches out of the tent. You turn to help clean up the mess, but you frown when the Mandalorian swipes it all up, turning and stalking off. You frown, watching his back as he packs the items away, and when he turns, he finds you staring at him.

“What?”

You stand up slow, touching his arm lightly and inclining your head. “She’s fine, you know. Little girls are resilient that way.”

He grunts, stepping around you to rinse his hands at the faucet. “No thanks to Kuiil. Or you, for that matter.” 

Shock radiates through your entire body, and you think you would feel less stunned if he had struck you across the face. When he turns around, drying his hands on a towel, your arms are folded and you’ve schooled your expression into something more serene.

“What are you talking about?”

He throws the towel down, tugging his gloves from his belt with more force than necessary. “You could have said something. He listens to you more than me.”

“Are you...actually blaming me for her getting hurt?”

At his stony silence, your eyes flash, heat prickling beneath your skin in a brilliant flush. “Either you do, and you need someone to blame because of how scared it left you, or you’re angry and wanting to fight someone,” you breathe, your heart beginning to pick up speed in the face of conflict. Your hands flex against your sides when you let them drop, standing your ground. “I won’t be a whipping post, and certainly not because you didn’t like not having control.”

You can see the catch of light on the beskar covering his chest when his breathing begins to pick up, and the two of you stare each other down. In another life, you think he may have intimidated you into a forlorn, misplaced apology, but not now. Not with your heart so full, with everything you have tried so hard to preserve. 

“Fine,” you whisper, turning your face away, only marginally catching the tilt of his visor. You start towards the mouth of the hut. “If you want someone to blame, stay in here and blame yourself.” 

You don’t get far.

A grip of iron latches onto your elbow, tugging you back before you even see him move. You suck in a breath, stumbling as he drags you back behind the partition of the sleeping quarters, and you yelp when your boot catches on one of the rugs. “W-What are you do-”

His fingers grab the lip of his helmet, tearing it off, and in the same movement, his other arm hauls you against the front of his body, and he covers your lips with his own. You lose all the breath in your lungs, your hands hopelessly trying to grab onto something for balance as he seems intent on consuming you whole. It is nothing like the kiss you shared on the Razor Crest, nothing like the stolen kisses around the moisture farm with a touch of tenderness and desperation.

This is hungry, and it is violent.

You aren’t given a moment to see his face, not a chance to adjust to the tight space between him and the wall of the hut as he backs you flush against it, opening your mouth with his lips as if your body is under siege. His helmet hangs from one hand, and he presses it against the curve of your hip, his other cupping the back of your neck. You can’t keep up with the movements, the onslaught of his presence leaving you reeling with vertigo. You settle your hands on either side of his face that is shadowed in the corner of the hut, finding an anchor there, and you gasp when he tears his mouth from yours to bite at your jaw.

“W-What are you do-doing!” you whisper, the scratch of facial hair prickling your skin. The muscles in your legs begin to shake, and there is a fluttering dizziness in your belly that makes you want to pull him closer. Stars, you don’t know if you could handle more of this.

His mouth is hotter than a furnace, his kisses open mouthed and lascivious against your neck, and he stumbles into you, dropping his helmet with a loud thunk against the floor. His shoulders are tighter than a bow string, and you bring shaking fingers up to bury in the fluffy, misshapen curls that are usually hidden. 

“Why are you so soft?” he growls, sounding truly angry at this revelation as he keeps you pinned between his body and the wall. You drink in the humid air between you, eyes closing tight against the throbbing ache building brighter within you. “S-Soft and-and sweet and p-pretty,” he whimpers, teeth sinking harder into the warm flesh of your neck beneath your ear.

You tug his hair, wriggling against him for something. You don’t know what you want, what you need in that moment, but you don’t want him to stop. The raw, strangled tone he rasps with, a mixture of fear and joy that heats your blood is buried in your hair when he smothers his lips against the long tresses falling over your shoulder.

“I-It’s alright-” you pant, one hand falling to the back of his neck, and you feel his entire body shudder against you. Your own heart beats hard enough to reverberate against the chest plate pressing against your front, but you know his beats on the other side, too. “It’s alright-”

A scream pierces the otherwise quiet desert air, and suddenly the Mandalorian is gone, swiping his helmet up from the floor and donning it before tearing through the hut to get outside. There’s only a moment’s hesitation on your part before you fall forward after him, running into his back when he stops suddenly in the yard.

Corde screams again, giggling wildly as the blurrg practically hops around the pen with her on its back. The Mandalorian groans so loud his entire helmet seems to vibrate, dropping his head backward. You snort, belly laughs working their way out of you as you lean your temple against his pauldron. You’re dizzy with passion, with relief, with joy, and you’re thankful he’s so solid that you can sink against him and not worry he won’t be the mountain against the sea inside you.

Kuiil ambles his way toward you both, hands folded behind his back and bowing his head. “I will give you my apology. I did not think she would get hurt. She should not have,” he adds, and you can hear the subtle catch in his voice.

“It was an accident,” the Mandalorian says, beating you to the punch and drawing a smile from you. As if his biting words before simply needed to be expelled, to clean his mind from the ugliness a hurt child can bring. He seems to sway forward, as if he feels inclined to touch the Ugnaught on the shoulder in companionable understanding. He chooses not to, letting your gentle touch anchor him to his spot. He swallows hard, his voice hoarse when he adds, “It was no one’s fault.”

It is not an apology to you, but that night when you’re dozing beneath starlight, your back pressed against his, you feel his hand drift to brush over your hip. He whispers his remorse to you, his voice a crack that betrays the desperation you feel in his hand that holds your own. You fall asleep with your fingers entangled with his, but it doesn’t keep a nightmare from plaguing your sleep that night.

Or every night after.

One evening, after the children are put to bed and you and the two men are sitting around the table, you find your eyes growing heavy. You’re working on a second pair of shoes for each of the children, made from the leather that Kuiil had gifted you. The hide of the mudhorn he’d scavenged after the Mandalorian had left his first time on Arvala-7 had provided a good amount of resources. When your needle pierces the skin of your finger for the second time, the bounty hunter heaves a sigh and reaches over to confiscate your work. You shoot him a look of betrayal, scowling, but it is Kuiil who points out, “You aren’t sleeping.”

You ignore both of them as you cross the living space to the faucet, rinsing the blood from your hands. “No, I suppose not.”

“Any reason?” Kuiil asks sagely, glowering suspiciously at the Mandalorian who sits across from his table. The bounty hunter remains stoic and silent, and you clear your throat, hoping it’s dark enough that neither of them notice the bright flush in your cheeks.

“Venka told me something days ago that I cannot put from my mind,” you murmur, wandering back to your seat. You fall into it, rubbing your sore hands together in your lap and blinking hard against the pull of exhaustion. “He is still afraid of being abandoned. I...I don’t know how to assure them that they are safe,” you murmur, the growing ache between your temples making you wince.

Kuiil hums thoughtfully, his hands working a knife over a figure of wood. He told you he was making a toy for the child, and that it would be a surprise to all. “That may not be something you can take from him, my girl.” 

“Surely he can feel safe with us?” you ask weakly, gesturing between you and the silent warrior beside you. “It...it took me some time myself, but I grew more comfortable and secure.”

“It did?” The Mandalorian’s voice is surprised, and you shrug in his direction.

“Perhaps if he could see others like him, he would know it is possible to allow himself happiness,” Kuiil intones, looking down at the wooden figure in his palm. He turns it several times before beginning the process once more.

You lean your face into your hands, feeling just as helpless as the moment the child spoke his fears to you. It’s on your shoulders even as you lay down that evening, Kuiil once again deferring the cot to you by insisting he was to watch over the fathier. If the creature could survive the night, it would be out of danger.

The Mandalorian moves around the small sleeping quarters, and you don’t pay any attention until you notice he’s taking an awfully longer time removing his armor and boots than usual. He’s busy shoving something in his bag, and you can see the hesitation in his frame before he seems to think better of it and remove whatever it is, stuffing it in another pocket.

When he turns around to find you staring, he tenses, moving slowly toward the bed as if you might strike him. You smile his way, and he seems to relax, sitting on the edge of the bed to look at you.

“Do you think the fathier will survive?” you ask softly, your eyes becoming harder and harder to keep open.

His hand, bare and smooth, lays over your own, atop your stomach. “I don’t know.”

You sigh deeply, letting your eyes fall shut. “I hope so. It did not deserve its fate in that place,” you whisper, feeling your eyes begin to sting. “And the children will be heartbroken.” The Mandalorian traces his thumb back and forth over your hand before squeezing your fingers. He says your name, and when you’re too close to sleeping, he gently shakes your hand and repeats it. “Mm?”

“I need to...ask you something.”

His other hand trails tenderly over the outline of your face, picking a stray strand of hair and moving it from your eyes. You open them once again, fighting a yawn. “What is it?”

His helmet is tilted towards you, and you can see just where the moonlight cuts his visor in half, as if he wears another mask of darkness over it. He lays his hand against the side of your neck, warm and comforting. “I want to take the children somewhere...somewhere they will be safe.”

Your eyes float open and closed, watching him as he seems to brave through the words. “I want that, too.”

He nods once, and you imagine he must be licking his lips. His fingers flex atop your hand, and he inhales deeply. “I want to take them to my covert. You and them. To the tribe.”

“W-What?” Your eyes widen when you realize you did, in fact, hear him and are not dreaming. Your other hand cups the wrist that holds your neck, and you slowly sit up in bed, clumsily pawing for him in the shadows. “B-But-can you...do that?”

The Mandalorian takes a measured look at your face, and you wonder what he sees, what he looks for. Or perhaps, what he hopes not to see. His thumb presses just against the pulse point beneath your ear, where he bit you, and you swallow hard at the possessive touch. 

“You are my clan. It is your place, your people, too.”

Your lips tremble, but you don’t feel the threat of tears. No, in fact, you feel electricity flooding your veins, sparking in your fingertips and toes, and you clutch at his wrist and his hand with earnest need, tugging him into the bed beside you. 

“Tell me everything.”

When you finally fall asleep, it’s closer to dawn, and your head is pillowed against the Mandalorian’s chest, soothed by the gentle breathing and heartbeat of his form beneath your cheek. It is the first night in more than a week you do not have a nightmare, and you’re a hair more than annoyed when Corde bursts through the curtained partition, falling on top of you both to declare, excitedly, that the fathier not only survived the night but is nearly recovered completely.

The Mandalorian rolls over, shoving his helmet beneath the shared pillow when the little girl leaves, and growls through the vocoder, “Perhaps we should leave them here.” You slap his back playfully, smirking, before laying back down.

Once fully awake, the idea settles in your mind with no small amount of anxiety. One Mandalorian is intimidating on his own. An entire tribe of them is another beast itself, and you catch yourself wringing your hands. When the bounty hunter tells the children of his intentions, you think, perhaps, they share your feelings.

Venka signs to the Mandalorian, his little face stern and serious.

Will they like us?

He draws the child close, cupping the back of his head to gently bump the brow of his helmet to his. “There is no way they could not.” 

It doubles as a chance for him to turn his bounties in, as well. Nevarro is the seat of Greef Karga, he explains, and though he cannot truly accept guild work, Karga has agreed to smuggle his bounties and pay him for the work under the table. You worry that there will be hunters nearby looking for the child, but the Mandalorian seems confident that will not be the case.

“Many of them were taken out when we left,” he explains, changing the wiggling infant’s clothes upon the cot. The green eared baby giggles and grabs his feet proudly, making the task into a chore for the bounty hunter. “To go back wouldn’t be on their radar for a move we would make.” 

“And you trust Greef Karga not to sell you out?” you ask softly, full of doubt. You’re brushing out Corde’s hair, which is a feat in itself from how tangled it’s been by the desert wind. Braids keep it tamed well enough, but the small child isn’t the most disciplined when it comes to sitting still. You and the Mandalorian have a shared patience, feeding off of one another when it comes to bearing the endearing nuisances.

“He won’t sacrifice his chance at fattening his wallet,” he mutters, looking for the clean outfit you’d sewn for the child. When he turns back, the baby has crawled half way across the bed and is reaching for the mesh window of the hut. He grabs him with a huff. “And as long as we keep our heads down, no one will have a reason to think we are even there.” 

The way he makes it sound so possible is enough to quell some of your fears, but you still find yourself playing with the cuff of your dress, too preoccupied with your thoughts even when you part ways with Kuiil. You kiss his brow, forcing a smile over the curdling in your stomach, and fuss over the child in his pram. You don’t hear what the Ugnaught says to the Mandalorian before you begin your short trek back to the Razor Crest, and that alone is enough for the bounty hunter to see how worried you are.

You busy yourself with the list of pre-flight checks, the motions familiar and comforting to you. Keeping your hands busy is something that comes naturally, and you’re only dimly aware of the noises in the hull where the Mandalorian is busy ensuring all three children have a proper meal before they sleep. When you’re sure that everything is ready for take off, adjusting the coordinate settings to Nevarro (for he’d shown you, after all, how to locate the pre-programmed destinations), you sit back in the pilot’s chair and close your eyes.

It isn’t the bounty hunters that worry you. It isn’t the threat of the Empire, either.

No, your fears are much simpler: you are to meet his tribe.

And you want to be good enough.

-

Tag List: @lavenderl3mons @itzagoodthing​ @letaliabane​ @kateb013​ @yodaswrinkles​ @catsnkooks​ @notawhitegirlblog​ @ihaveashield​ @sinnamon-bunn @just-a-dreammm @tiffdawg @lackofhonor @btillys  @collectivefandom @kylolover96 @little-ms-fandom @earthtokace @blondecity @gaybroadwayloser @forever-rogue @lizajane3 @rzrcrst @themandjalorian @netflixandsnuggle @mrsparknuts @lonelystarship @adikaofmandalore @avoreahspromise @emilykjhgsj @fioccodineveautunnale @lokilover-39 @shesthelastjedi @yes-music-is-my-religion @rnlaing @peachdameron @theocatkov @mando-and-the-child @multifandom-fiasco @paryl @golden-mando @katialvi @toppaazzz @dragongirl642 @themilkface @menedraws @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @reallyfuckingangrylatina @literallytrashhhhhh @plipaya @kass-daily @ntlmundy @sikenurse @honestlystop @lukesrighthand @layla1974 @luosymekawa

#Din Djarin is a stressed dad and husband #The Mandalorian fanfiction #Din Djarin x You #Din Djarin x Reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #The Lovely Moons #my writing #my fic

[reachfolk]

For the writing prompt, let's go with ruin.

request: alexandria silver-blood + "ruins" (elder scrolls writing prompts — OPEN)

summary: Alexandria's teaching methods may not be conventional nor are they always pleasant, but Lucien can't deny their effectiveness.

tags: fluff, lucien flavius, canon-typical violence, alex and lucien are still pretty new as companions so he's still Baby, lexi is an arguably good teacher, not proofread bc it turned out so long lol

warnings: none

word count: 2.3k

ao3 link: [tough love]

author's notes: for those that don't know, lucien is a modded follower who starts as a wimpy little imperial scholar and you train him to get better at combat. this was SO much fun to write, i feel like it really shows some of my fav things about lexi and her dynamic with lucien! thank u so much for the request dearie <3

The door to the old nordic tomb was jammed after what must have been centuries without being opened, but with a heavy shove, Alexandria was able to force them to give. As soon as they swung open, the smell of decay and rot overwhelmed Lucien's senses, and he found himself struggling to hold down that morning's breakfast.

Alexandria, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Instead, she took a deep breath and smiled at the smell. "Ah, I love these old tombs. You can just feel Lady Namira's influence in the air. Makes the eyes water though, doesn't it? Or maybe that's just the dust." She fanned her face, letting her eyes dry out for a moment before readying her sword in one hand and a simple Firebolt spell in the other. "You ready?"

"Uhh," Lucien hesitated. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" With that, she pushed him through the doors, and he nearly toppled over. "You'll be taking the lead this time, alright?"

"What?! Me?!" He sputtered. "Are you sure that's a good idea? No, don't answer that. It isn't a good idea whatsoever."

Alexandria didn't seem to share a single one of his concerns as she placed a hand on his back and pushed him deeper into the old ruins. "It's a chance to practice sneaking and to test out that Turn Undead spell. Two birds with one stone, as they say."

"I only learned that spell last night. Who's to say it'll even work? Don't you think the stakes are a little too high?"

"Of course they are," she said in her usual, all too cheery tone of voice. "You're not going to learn anything by staying firmly in your comfort zone. Besides, don't you trust me to keep you safe?"

It was certainly a good question. In spite of how she presented herself, Alexandria was a difficult person to read. While he often did appreciate her optimistic attitude (it was certainly an improvement over the glum nature of most of Skyrim's citizens), there were more than a few moments where it almost felt like she enjoyed tormenting him. This wouldn't be the first time she pushed him beyond his limits; ever since she started training him, she seemed to make a game of torturing him and justifying it with reasons such as, "You need to learn to take a hit," or "You've got to get out of your own head." And, well... he wanted to trust her methods, but she make it quite difficult.

"If you take any longer to answer, it's going to hurt my feelings, you know."

"N-no, I don't mean to imply anything bad!" Lucien sputtered. "I'm just nervous, is all. You've been a wonderful guard and I don't mean to offend you in any—"

His ramblings were interrupted by her bursting into laughter, and the sound echoed throughout the chamber. He felt a brief panic, but it seems the sound didn't reverberate far enough into the ruins to alarm any draugr. Alexi, it seems, didn't share his worries at all.

"Calm down, will you? I was joking!" She chuckled. "Believe me, no one understands anxiety better than I do. But that doesn't mean I'll allow you to let it control your life."

Lucien had a hard time believing she of all people, in all her confidence and self-assuredness, could relate, but her words were a comfort nonetheless. "Right," he replied, letting her words sink in. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then firmly regretted it as the stench of death filled his lungs.

Alexi chuckled again at him and patted his arm. "You'll get used to it."

"I really don't want to," he said, but readied his spells nonetheless.

*

The pair made their way through the old ruin, crouched low and sticking to the shadows, just as Alexandria taught him. The muffle spell she cast helped them stay quiet and made it easy to make out the sound of draugr footsteps farther into the depths of the tomb.

Lucien stopped in the middle of the hallway they were crouched in and leaned his head around the bend, leading into a larger chasm. Two draugr patrolled the area, moving in circles around the perimeter.

Alexi leaned back on her haunches and whispered, "So, what's the plan, boss?"

It was strange, the way their roles were swapped. "Uhm," Lucien thought back to what Alexandria did the last time they were in this kind of situation. "Wait until they wander to opposite sides of the room, out of each other's sight, and shoot them down one at a time."

"Okay," Alexandria said simply, but the minimal response was enough to send Lucien doubting himself.

"Is that not a good plan?" He asked, unsure.

"Huh? I never said that. I told you, you're the boss here! I'm just following your lead."

"Right," Lucien muttered. "Right. Uh, I just... need to be more sure of myself."

Alexi didn't respond beyond glancing around the corner, watching the draugr.

"Right?" Lucien asked.

This time, she simply chuckled. "Dearie, how are you not realizing the irony? You're still asking for my approval. It's a good plan. Now go ahead before you start getting in your head again."

Unfortunately, his doubts already took root and refused to budge. Even as he drew his bow and had it aimed at the target, he found himself frozen in place.

After the second opening he missed due to his own hesitation, Alexandria leaned over his shoulder and whispered, "Can I give you some advice?"

"Please do."

"Great!"

She grabbed him by the neck not unlike one would grab a housecat, dragged him up from where he was crouched, and tossed him into the open chamber with the two draugr. As he yelped in surprise, the two draugr turned at the sound and drew their weapons.

The rational response was for Lucien to be angry at her for being so cruel, but in the moment, it was all he could do to bash his bow against the draugr that rushed at him with a greatsword. The attack staggered the enemy and interrupted her mid-swing, giving Lucien enough time to switch out his longbow for a sword and spell.

Just as the zombie had regained balance, Lucien took a swing, putting all his might behind it. It wasn't enough to bring her down, but as the sword connected with her shoulder, the two-handed sword she carried fell from her grasp. He used the chance to shoot a Firebolt spell at her, which sent her flying backwards, unmoving.

Before he could celebrate his victory, an arrow whooshed past his face, just barely grazing his skin and taking a few of his hairs with it. It would've sent his heart racing if the poor muscle wasn't already working at full capacity.

He turned his head to the archer, who already had nocked another arrow and shot it in his direction. He just barely managed to dodge by side stepping behind a column. There was no way he could rush at the archer with his sword, and he was clearly outmatched with a bow. Should he just try to pelt it with Firebolts, or—

Suddenly, he remembered the new spell he'd just learned the night before. It was a risk trying it now of all times, but the adrenaline rushing in his veins made it difficult to rationalize it too much. He charged the spell, then ducked out from behind the other side of the column and cast it before the draugr could even release the arrow it had readied.

The second the spell hit, the draugr immediately pulled its arrow back and turned it's back, running in the opposite direction in the signature awkward steps that all draugr take. Now that the threat of being pelted with arrows was gone, Lucien rushed at the creature and grabbed it by the back of its thin, wiry hair. He stabbed his sword through its back with enough force that it jutted out of its chest. When the creature stopped moving, he released his grip on it and let its limp body fall to the ground.

It took him several seconds to catch his breath. When his heart rate finally returned to normal, a high-pitched squeal broke through the calmness and spiked it once again. Thankfully, he realized quickly enough, it was only Alexandria excitedly cheering for him.

"Good job, Lucien!" She applauded, rushing towards him from where she watched. "Oh, I knew you could handle it!"

"I... I did! Didn't I?" It was still hard to believe he could manage in a battle with her support, so to win two-against-one was inconceivable to him.

"Obviously," she laughed, giving him a playful shove. "See what you can do when you stop freaking out? When you don't have time to doubt yourself, your real skill shows."

He couldn't help but join her in the laughter as the reality of his accomplishment dawned on him. "Does this mean I'm now a proper adventurer? I never thought I had it in me!" He puffed out his chest proudly, beaming at his companion.

"I'm well aware of that. That's always been your biggest problem," she said. "Lucien, you've gotten so used to thinking of yourself as some weak little milk-drinker that no matter how much I trained you, you refused to recognize your own progress. I needed to do something to get it through your head."

"Not to imply that I'm not grateful, because I truly am," he replied, "but was throwing me to the draugr really the only thing you could think of?"

She gave a shrug. "It's how I was taught. Well, for me it was sabre cats. And fire. Oh, and also flowers, but that one's less exciting. And plenty of harsh lessons, really. How do you think I got these scars?" To prove her point, she lifted up both arms, showcasing a large array of scars, burns, and calluses that she'd acquired over the years. They moved down throughout her body, displayed for all to see under her Forsworn armor. The injuries had accumulated so much that it was hard to tell one from the other, let alone deduce what had caused them.

Lucien was curious about it since the day they'd met, but it felt rude to ask. But seeing as she brought up the matter herself, and she didn't seem to have any discomfort talking about it, he found himself asking, "What actually happened?"

"Oh, what didn't happen?" She chuckled. Pointing at the rough shape of a bite mark on her right arm, she explained, "I got this one when Auntie Ursula wanted me to get sabre cat teeth because I'd used up her entire supply when making potions. She wanted to teach me a lesson about recognizing alchemy as more than just mixing things together. Respecting the ingredients the land blesses us with, and honoring the Hunt as a crucial part of the life of an alchemist."

She then pointed to the burn marks along her palms and fingers. "I got these when Mother Helle was training me in Destruction magic. A lot of mages hesitate to progress their knowledge of the arcane arts, so she often pushed us to lean into the pain rather than fear it. Learning advanced fire-based spells results in plenty of injuries, but I couldn't have learned them if I didn't stop being scared of getting burned. After getting lit on fire a few times, it stops being so scary. And, more importantly, you learn to control it better."

"What about the flowers?" he asked.

She held up her fingers and wiggled them a bit. They were rough and calloused, and the state of them made him wonder how she could even comfortably hold a weapon. "These were the first scars I ever got. When I first started working as Auntie Bothela's assistant—I think it was shortly after my tenth winter, she made me dethorn every single flower that was in stock at the store until my hands bled. Then she made me use those same flowers to make a health potion to cure the cuts, and then I'd start over. I wasn't so good at it in the beginning, so my skin didn't end up healing very well. But once most of the skin was scarred, it stops hurting, and it helps when working with more advanced recipes."

"That sounds... quite harsh," Lucien observed. It was odd how she described such unpleasant experiences with a bright smile, as though they were treasured memories.

"All my teachers were Reachfolk, and usually followers of Lord Hircine," she explained. "It's part of his teachings—to suffer is to learn and all that. It's not exactly the nicest way to teach, but I always found it... kind, in its own way. They were with me through every step of the way. There was never a moment of my training that I felt alone or lost."

Then, her voice grew softer, a kind of uncertainty he hadn't seen in her before. "I hope I've been that kind of teacher to you. It may not always be easy, but I wouldn't put you in any situation that I don't trust you to handle, even if you may not always trust yourself as much. And, well... I know you're still making up your mind, but I do consider you a friend. I want the best for you."

The confession made Lucien's heart swell, and he wondered how on Nirn he ever doubted her intentions. And, after today, he couldn't doubt her results. "You have been," he said. "I'm glad to have you by my side, friend."

Her eyes lit up at his words, and the sight was reminiscent of that of an excited puppy. "Me too!" she said, her voice back to its cheery tone.

With that, Lucien drew his sword again and gestured to the path leading deeper into the ruins. "So, are you ready to press on?"

She gave a salute and followed his lead, drawing her own sword. "Sure thing, boss!"

#lucien flavius #tes #tesblr #skyrim #skyrim oc #elder scrolls #cozy writes #oc: alexandria silver blood #alexi is a daedra worshipper and it Shows lol #cozy answers #moots #thanks again for the request!! it was so much fun to write #this is 100% meant to be platonic but lexi would absolutely have a puppy crush on lucien and i wonder if u can tell lmao #she has crushes on everyone tho so this is her default slkjflksj #ship: alexandria x lucien

[whumphoarder]

Death by Waffles

Summary: When Tony decides to adopt a cat for Morgan, Peter is almost more excited about it than the six-year-old. He just failed to mention one minor issue before coming to visit at the lake house for the weekend.

Or, in which Peter is horrifically allergic to cats but JUST LOVES THEM SO MUCH.

Word count: 1,638

Genre: Fluff, slight whump, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx & @sallyidss for beta reading and giving me ideas! 

Link to read on Ao3

“I still think we should have called him Winston Furrchill,” Tony says with a shrug, watching Peter, who’s sitting cross legged on the living room floor, grinning ear-to-ear, stroking the long-haired cat’s fur.

“That’s so boorrring, Daddy,” Morgan complains. She grabs the little feather teaser and dangles it in front of the cat’s face. He lifts a paw lazily to bat at it. “All your ideas were so boring.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony balks at her, eliciting giggles from Peter and a dramatic groan from the six-year-old. “My ideas were gold. Mr. Meowgi. Bill Clawsby. Genghis Khat.”

Peter snaps once and shoots a finger gun Tony’s direction. “Luke Skywhisker!” he throws in, causing Morgan to groan. “Ooh! Call him Nick Furr-y!”

“No! His name is Waffles!” Morgan exclaims, throwing up her hands in exasperation and causing the kitty in question to dart across the room and dive into his favorite hiding place—the cardboard box that his brand new, untouched, three-hundred-dollar cat tree came in. Tony just rolls his eyes; it’s behavior like this that makes him almost regret spending the last four days in the workshop designing that damn feline an elaborate catwalk and perch system spanning every room of the lake house.

(Almost.)

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout.

“Aw, Mo, we were just teasing,” Peter says, patting her arm with a kind smile. “Waffles is a great name—I love it.”

That seems to console her. She grins back at him. “It’s ‘cus when we brought him home, he was really scared the first day and he just wanted to hide under my bed. So Daddy said I could eat breakfast in my room with him so he’d feel safer, but then I had to go to the bathroom and when I was gone he stole my waffle,” she rambles.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “Your cat ate a waffle?”

Morgan nods. “Uh-huh, and then he puked it up again on the carpet!” she explains cheerfully.

“Ah yes, fond memories…” Tony mutters.

“So I named him Waffles,” Morgan concludes. “But I almost called him Syrup, ‘cus he got that on his paws when he walked on the plate, and then he ran around everywhere and it was all sticky. Mommy says that’s why we got ants after.”

While Peter snorts out a laugh, Tony just runs a hand over his face and sighs. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Peter laughs, rubbing a hand at his eyes. He uncrosses his legs and gets to his feet to walk over to the box where Morgan is trying to lure Waffles out again. “I always wanted a cat, but May never let me get one—said they were too much hassle.”

“They are,” Tony says emphatically.

“Are not,” Morgan disagrees. As Peter sits down by the box, she picks up the bag of kitty treats and starts shaking it, causing Waffles to poke his head out. She pours out three little treats onto her open palm. He sniffs them suspiciously, then turns his nose up and buries himself back in the box.

Morgan turns to Tony and shrugs. “I don’t think he likes chicken flavor anymore. You gotta get him the salmon ones, Daddy.”

“But you told me this morning that he doesn’t like salmon,” Tony argues. “He only eats the premium chicken with gravy.”

Morgan shakes her head. “No, no that’s his wet food. He only eats dry salmon, and wet chicken. And sometimes tuna, but only that one in the blue bag.”

“And waffles,” Peter throws in with a wry smile, sitting down to start stroking the cat inside the box. “Don’t forget the waffles, Mr. Stark.”

“At this rate, I’m thinking it’d be better to just install a cat flap and let him find his own mice for dinner,” Tony grumbles.

As if on cue, Waffles meows irritably and leaps out of the cardboard box, straight onto Peter’s lap. However in doing so, the cat’s fluffy tail tickles the kid’s nose. Peter sneezes twice—rather violently—startling the cat to the point that it shoots across the room and climbs halfway up the drapes.

“Waffles!” Morgan cries and races after him.

Sniffling a bit, Peter gives a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

Tony rolls his eyes and extends a hand to help lever the kid up again. Peter rubs at his eyes again—which Tony notices are redder than usual. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously. “Are you sure ‘too much hassle’ was the only reason May was against you having cats?”

Something flashes across Peter’s face, but it’s gone just as soon as it appears. “Yeah, yeah of course. Well, that and she’s more of a dog person, really, but they’re not allowed in the apartment.”

“Hm.” Tony glances at his watch. “Alright, well it’s almost His Royal Highness’ dinner time.” He gestures to the kitchen. “Let’s go see if we can get him to choke down some caviar and truffles or something…”

X

Three hours later, Tony can’t ignore the signs any longer. After witnessing Peter’s third sneezing fit since dinner, he privately pulls the kid out into the kitchen. “Pete, c’mon,” he sighs. “Just admit it already.”

Taking a tissue from the box Tony holds out to him, Peter shrugs innocently. “Alright, you got me. Guess I’m coming down with a cold.” He wipes his nose.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “A cold that began ten minutes after entering our home and has only gotten progressively worse since?”

Peter chuckles a bit. “Yeah, go figure, right? Perfect timing for my weekend off. What does Doctor Banner call that again?” He tilts his head to the side in thought. “Starts with an L…”

“Pete…”

“Leisure sickness!” he recalls, his face lighting up. “That’s the word. Think I’ve got that.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony starts ticking each symptom off on his fingers. “Your nose is running, your eyes are watery, you’re sneezing—”

“Which is all from the cold,” Peter cuts him off. He coughs twice into his elbow. “See? Sick.”

Tony scoffs. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never once admitted to being sick unprompted.” He pauses a beat. “Including that time you were actively vomiting.”

Peter rubs a hand at the back of his neck and gives a sheepish grin. “So I'm really demonstrating growth, then, huh?”

Tony ignores him and soldiers on. “You’re itching,” he says, gesturing to the red welts emerging on Peter’s forearms and neck. “You’re getting a rash—”

Peter tugs his hoodie sleeves down to cover them. “I think that’s the new laundry soap I’ve been using...”

Tony blinks at him. “Your eyes are bright red, kid.”

Peter opens his mouth to retort something, but then closes it again. He drops his gaze to the floor and lets out a hard sigh. “Okay… okay you’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t wanna say it around Morgan.” He looks up and, with a totally straight expression, whispers, “I’ve been smoking weed, Mr. Stark. I’m actually tripping balls right now.”

“Peter, just admit that you’re allergic to cats!”

“Huh?” Morgan cries from the living room where she has her kitty on her lap while she watches Curious George. “Peter’s allergic to Waffles?!” The cat dives off her lap and out into the kitchen, hiding behind Peter’s leg.

Peter winces. Then his nose wrinkles up and he sneezes four times into his wad of tissues. When he draws in his next breath, it’s more of a wheeze.

Tony heaves out a sigh. “Alright, we’re done here.” He bends down and scoops the cat up. “Waffles is staying in Pep’s office for the remainder of this weekend.”

“What?” Morgan blurts.

“Yeah, what?” Peter echos, snatching the cat back from Tony’s arms. “You can’t do that!”

“Pete, he’s making you sick,” Tony points out as Peter sneezes yet again. “If you’re already this bad in three hours, how do you expect to breathe in a couple more days?”

Peter looks stricken. “But… But you don’t understand.” He hugs the cat a little tighter and Tony swears he can see fresh hives emerging on Peter’s neck. “I just love him so much, Mr. Stark,” he says earnestly. “I would honestly die for this cat.”

Tony sighs and pats his shoulder consolingly. “Yeah, and that’s looking more and more like it might become reality, kiddo...”

X

It takes some convincing—and a bit of bribery—but eventually he gets the kids to agree to his plan. In the end, Morgan and Peter settle for a six-foot-tall ‘Royal Castle Kitty Condo’ (complete with a litter moat) in exchange for Waffles’ temporary banishment. He then sends Peter to the guest room while he and Morgan transfer the cat’s most essential supplies into the office, grateful for once that Pepper’s staying downtown this weekend.

Waffles promptly makes himself at home on the very top of her bookshelf—after first knocking over two glass figurines and a meticulously ordered stack of papers, sending legal documents flying around the room.

(Tony wonders just what kind of royal castle equivalent he’s going to have to bribe Pepper with when she gets back.)

X

It’s 12:16 a.m. when Tony remembers that they forgot to give Waffles his anti-hairball paste that evening and comes grumbling out of bed to do so.

It’s 12:19 a.m. when Tony opens the office door to see Peter, sitting on the floor with that damn cat curled up in his lap, wheezing out a high-pitched chant of, “Who’s a good kitty? Who’s a good boy?” between puffs of his inhaler as he strokes Waffles’ fur.

It’s 12:21 a.m. when Tony just gives up trying to reason with the kid and goes raiding the bathroom cabinets for Benadryl.

X

Link to all my fics

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Beanimia

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#fluff #domestic fluff #irondad #irondad fic #morgan stark #Peter Parker & tony stark #cats #allergies #sick peter parker #peter parker whump #my fic #tony stark has a heart #peter parker is a little shit

[aces-to-apples]

Written for Day 5: Fluff of Codywan Week 2020 @codywanweek

Here on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Multi Relationship: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Background Padmé Amidala/CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker, Implied/Referenced Future Rexsoka, GFY

For best results please look at this Rex and this Cody before reading.

“tribute”

Another one of the local little chompers marched towards the dais with all the solemnity and determination of a verd’ika plucking their first set of whites off the assembly line. Cody met Rex’s eye and they both very carefully avoided grinning at the sight. Not only could it be bad for their relationship with said locals, it wouldn’t do to let their Jedi think they were, in fact, having a good time up there.

When the kid came to a halt a ‘respectful’ distance away, Cody nodded for them to approach and bent his head to receive the kid’s blessing and subsequent gift. He watched Rex do the same.

The celebration had been going for hours, by that point, and they’d amassed a pile of shiny little wearable trinkets to give any sovereign of Naboo a run for their credits and enough blessings to make them holier than most deities. It’d been a relief, at the start of the night, to hear that—aside from the ceremonial outfits they’d been bullied into wearing—he and Rex were free to redistribute the gifts as they saw fit. Something about sharing luck, or good vibes, or what have you.

Said ceremonial outfits, on the other hand, they were obliged to keep and maintain with honor.

Obi-Wan had smoothed over any offense they’d given with their lacklustre reaction to the news but Rex’s general had been less than subtle in his delight at their new possessions. Tano, at least, had just told them they looked nice and kept her own mocking to a bare minimum.

And it wasn’t that they were grateful, Cody had reflected at the start of the celebration, when he and Rex had stepped out under the light of the moons to deafening cheers, but. It wasn’t quite their style, no matter how well the two of them pulled off the intricate, and admittedly beautiful, get-ups.

Rex, by dint of his Torrent paintjob, had been immediately deemed the locals’ Goddess of War come again and draped accordingly in layers of blue fabric. Some of it was dark and blaster-resistant and some of it pale and so sheer as to be almost nonexistent. Bands of silver, often studded with precious blue stones, were wrapped around his wrists, forearms, biceps, and throat, and a silver cap affixed with yet more jewels and a pale blue veil had been placed on his head with much reverence.

After a great deal of muttered debate, they determined that Cody must be their war deity’s twin, the Goddess of Beauty. Not an insult by any means…

The traditional garb he’d been presented with, by contrast, was deep red with a long flowing cape and headdress of heavy twisted fabric. It came with its own set of jewelry, as well, shining gold and polished red stones, bulky and eye-catching around his wrists and throat and slim and delicate around his forearms and biceps. Something about the placement was culturally significant, but hells if Cody was going to ask what.

They’d already lost the battle against: 1) staying for several days to rest and recuperate, 2) accepting the titles of living incarnations of their local deities and all the celebration that entailed, and 3) keeping both the get-ups and the gifts for themselves.

No way was Cody going to invite more conversation about their cultural practices. He could win against droids and bounty-hunters and half-baked Sith, but apparently, he couldn’t convince a bunch of over-awed, Mid Rim locals that he and Rex weren’t tools of War and Beauty.

Tools of the Republic, sure, but nothing divine.

The leader of the city they’d liberated had just smiled gently and reassured them that belief on their part was not necessary, only acceptance of their gratitude. Which came with lots of shiny metal, sparkly rocks, and a pair of gowns that they had to either accept or throw into a sacrificial fire and publicly reject.

Obi-Wan had stepped in at that point.

He’d assured everyone that they had no interest in disrespecting their culture and asked for a debrief about the ceremony.

Wear the outfits, sit on the thrones, and let people fawn over them at least a little bit, had basically been the long and short of it. But, hey, they were comfortably cushioned, well-fed, and kept hydrated throughout the whole thing, so it could have been worse. Sharp-toothed little ankle-biters shyly kissing their foreheads and handing them shiny bits and bobs before scampering off weren’t much of a hardship.

“How’re you fellas doing?” Skywalker asked, strolling up to the dais with a grin that had yet to falter all night. “Getting into the spirit of the thing? Really feeling the divinity flow through you?”

Plenty vode had wandered over to check on them over the course of the night, mostly to heckle, but the Jedi had visited just as frequently. And for similar reasons, too.

The way Rex’s general had been eyeing him all night, Cody was almost worried for Rex’s safety. He’d heard plenty of complaints from Obi-Wan about Skywalker’s willingness to eat damn near anything; who was to say that he hadn’t acquired a taste for Mandalorian-adjacent flesh and wouldn’t gobble poor Rex up in just a few bites.

He was pretty sure Commander Tano was having some kind of intermittent crisis over at their table as well.

It was his responsibility, as both Marshal Commander and ori’vod, to bring his concerns to his superior officer and then ruthlessly mock all three of them. After Skywalker eventually got tired of making Rex blush and wandered away whistling a jaunty tune to a very raunchy cantina song, that was.

“So does that ‘angel’ of his know the two of you have started sharing blankets since your last stop-over on Coruscant or should I start planning your funeral now?” Cody said archly, watching his vod’ika visibly consider punching him. “I’ll be sure to wear this and lie about how smart and good-looking you are, like a proper vod.”

Rex pressed a hand over his eyes and groaned. “Angel knows,” he admitted, darting an unsubtle glance at his general’s shebs. “What I am afraid of, though, is that next time we stop over on Coruscant she’s gonna have a whole new wardrobe just like this one and it will just happen to be in my size.”

“Well, hey, get a full-coverage veil and you’re probably good to step out with them,” Cody said with false sympathy, gleefully imagining the uproar that would cause. “Just make sure they’re made out of that fabric that’s designed to ruin holos. Pakod.”

The ol’ boy made a sound like a malfunctioning mouse-droid.

“Is it too much to believe that I’d like to spend whatever leave I get wearing as few clothes as possible?” he wailed, quietly, with a desperation that made Cody think this was an argument he and the senator had gotten into before. With this revelation in mind, he snapped a few holos of his own while Rex was distracted and vowed to get them to the senator if Skywalker’s brain cell was too lonely to manage it. “Isn’t it enough that I have this already?”

“Oh, dear me,” a low voice said from behind Cody’s left ear, “I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to have two attractive, attentive lovers who wish to shower you with tokens of their affection. Truly, Captain, your misery must be exquisite.”

Cody turned his head to press a sloppy kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek in gratitude for the pitiful sound his words had drawn out of his favorite brother.

“General,” Rex whined pathetically, “they keep getting me plants. Alive ones, dead ones, prickly ones, poisonous ones. My quarters are being taken over by non-sentient invaders.”

Obi-Wan made a little noise of patently fake sympathy. “My old master’s quarters were like that as well,” he commiserated, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin behind Cody’s ear. The noise of the locals around them changed in pitch, but Cody’d had enough to drink over the course of the evening to not feel worried by the change. If he was lucky, Obi-Wan would be shoved into a pretty outfit like this next. “It drove me mad that he never formally answered, let alone turned down, any of the suits. Just let the poor, smitten beings keep sending him gifts. So uncivilized.”

“Speaking of uncivilized,” Cody said, wondering if he could get away with pulling Obi-Wan down onto his lap.

Rex rolled his eyes. “If I don’t get to canoodle in public with my Jedi then you don’t get to with yours,” he huffed, leaning over to push Obi-Wan a few inches away. “Leave room for the Force, sirs.”

“‘Leave room for the Force’?” Obi-Wan repeated, nonplussed, while Cody found himself hung up on, “Canoodle?”

No longer quite so flustered, Rex shrugged. “Skywalker talks like a scandalized opera singer, sometimes, and Ahsoka says that when she catches the lads giving each other a tune-up. How’s the kid doing, by the way?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said ruefully, “she’s seventeen and in the middle of a war and puberty. Thus far, I believe she’s coped by placing you all in the ‘dear friends and family whom deserve her utmost respect’ category of her mind, rather than allowing herself to see you as attractive young men. Tonight seems to be causing some kind of breakdown in that line of thinking.”

Cody turned to give Rex his full attention and clapped him on the shoulder. “Cheers, vod’ika, keep it up and you might have a full set soon!”

In response, Rex covered his face with both hands and groaned again.

“Remind me to send the good captain some appropriate literature about age of consent laws, would you, dear?” Obi-Wan murmured into his ear. He most assuredly was not leaving room for the Force between them. “Until then, I believe you mentioned being uncivilized?”

Cody made a mental note to remind him as requested before standing up, bowing at the local assembly, and following Obi-Wan wherever he led.

#star wars #the clone wars #sw fic #by apples #codywanweek2020 #codywanweek #commander cody #captain rex #Obi-Wan Kenobi #anakin skywalker #padmé/rex/anakin #rexsoka #codywan #skyberrex #vod in a dress

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.15

At around two-thirty in the morning, Nairi’s phone rang. The caller ID said it was Linden and Nairi stared at it blankly, trying to think of a non-bad reason to be getting a call this late before answering.

“Linden?”

“Nairi!” said Linden, sounding relieved. “Oh thank god, you’re awake—I mean, that’s why I called you, you’re like the only person I know who wouldbe—”

“Linden, is everything okay?” said Nairi, toying with the cuff of her shirt. There was something in her voice that was setting off an urge in Nairi’s bones to go back upstairs and get her shoes.

“Uh, no,” said Linden, and an edge of panic broke through her tone. “It’s Simon, I think he’s uh, taken something? Like, I mean, too much of something.”

Nairi shut her eyes and counted to five. “Taken too much as in you think he’s overdosed?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s out cold, I don’t know—”

“What did he take?” said Nairi, chewing on the inside of her cheek and staring at the wilting greens in the vase in front of her.

“I don’t know!” said Linden, her pitch shifting upwards and breath hitching. “He just, you know, went to the bathroom before bed only he was taking a really long time so I went to check on him and I know he injected something ‘cause he nicked some of the needles from my cabinet—”

“Have you called an ambulance?” asked Nairi, climbing to her feet and skipping the stepladder, dropping to the mats on the floor before making a beeline for the stairs to her apartment.

“No, he’s only a student, neither of us can afford that—”

“Hang up on me and call an ambulance,” said Nairi, locking the door behind her and casting about for where she’d left her shoes. “Text me when you know which hospital and I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Dial tone sounded in her ears, and Nairi found her shoes.

*

The good thing about Nicholas being close to seven feet tall was that he was an easy to find landmark in any given room.

Nairi had spent the entire drive over bracing herself for walking into the hospital; for the bright lights, and the noise, and the smell, the bustle, but the waiting room was mostly fine. She supposed that she’d never really spent much time in waiting rooms, and when she had she’d usually been unconscious, or too out of it to take anything in, so really, this was entirely different.

It helped that no one in scrubs was looking at her.

Nicholas was talking in a low voice at Linden, who was wrapped in a thick-knit cardigan and perched on the edge of her seat, ignoring him in favour of staring at the bay doors leading into the treatment section of the emergency department. She tensed every time they opened and the loud buzzer above them sounded as a result, sagging again as people went in and out without looking their way. Her leg was bouncing and her eyes were red-rimmed, Nairi realised as she approached, her mouth set in a way that indicated she wasn’t paying much attention to any of her other surroundings. And Nicholas was apparently trying to change that. “—Linden? Linden, are you listening?”

“Hey,” said Nairi as she drew to a halt in front of them, getting both of their attention at once. “Any news?”

Linden’s gaze snapped up to her immediately and her face collapsed into an expression of relief even as she shook her head. “No,” she said, climbing to her feet and stepping into Nairi, resting her forehead on Nairi’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming.”

Nairi awkwardly hugged her, patting the back of her head.

“They found a substance on him which they believe is what he took,” said Nicholas in the same, quiet tone. “They think it may be some kind of stimulant, but that’s all the information we were able to get before they took him in and neither of us are in a position to ask for his medical details.”

From the way he spoke Nairi got the distinct impression that this wasn’t his first rodeo. He was wearing what looked like pyjamas under his jacket, but he’d taken the time to change into jeans and find appropriate footwear. He had the overall look of someone who’d rolled out of bed and gotten ready on the way to the car, but he was calm and measured in spite of the situation.

Linden sniffled into Nairi’s shoulder then abruptly pulled away, arms wrapped around herself as she chewed on her lip, gaze returning back to the treatment bay doors. The lines around her eyes were back with a vengeance, and she stayed standing, her fingers tapping on the opposite elbow. “Fuck, I just—what am I even supposed to do here?” she said, tone miserable.

She was probably being rhetorical, but Nairi answered her anyway. “This,” she said, shrugging. “You called for help, and you got him medical attention, that’s pretty much exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

Nicholas reached out and rubbed Linden’s back gently, giving Nairi an appraising look. “You did the right thing. And in the future, if you do decide to stay with him, then there are other ways you can help him as well. There are a lot of resources out there for supporting partners through addictions.”

He looked rather desperately like he was hoping she wouldn’t do so, even as he said it. Nairi tried not to linger on that thought, or if it was something he might change his mind on. He already didn’t like her though, there was no point in worrying about it. “It’s hard work,” she said eventually. “Do you know if he’s thinking about stopping?”

Linden teased her tongue between her teeth and her lips, her eyes sliding towards Nicholas, though she snapped them back to Nairi’s face before he could notice. “We haven’t really talked about that,” she said, fidgeting with the wool of her cardigan, too stressed out and tense to lie very well.

“It’s a difficult conversation,” said Nicholas, his tone careful and reassuring. “I’m here if you need help figuring out how to have it, and if you know any of his friends who are aware or—”

“Linden Alix?” said a harried looking tech in scrubs, interrupting them.

“Yeah,” said Linden, turning on the spot, all her attention on him as she straightened. “Has Simon woken up? Is he okay?”

“He’d like to talk to you,” said the tech, nodding at her. “Can you come with me?”

Linden was already nodding, and she followed him across the room, through the bay doors, around a corner, and out of sight.

It took Nairi about fifteen seconds to realise that this left her alone with Nicholas, and from the looks of things, he noticed about the same time she did. He was watching her, with a certain alertness to his eyes, that same degree of ‘used to this shit’ she’d noticed about him earlier. “Found it rough to get up at this hour?” he asked her wryly.

Nairi paused, then abruptly realised that she’d been pinching the inside of her elbow every time the buzzer over the door sounded. She forced her hand away from her arm, trying to make the movement casual, and shook her head, taking the seat next to him. “I hadn’t made it to bed yet, kind of a night owl. You?”

“Dead to the world until my phone rang,” said Nicholas, nodding as she sat. “It’s been a while since my last three o’clock wake up—I got more of them when Linden was a teenager. Though thankfully not quite so many for emergency room visits.”

“Mhmm.” Nairi’s gaze kept dragging back to the doors where Linden had disappeared. “I’m not really used to waiting rooms.”

“More familiar with the other side of things?” asked Nicholas, his tone carefully neutral.

There were a thousand ways she could respond to that. She glanced back at him but couldn’t read anything in his expression. “Yeah,” she said eventually, leaning back in her seat and trying to get comfortable.

That…worked. Nicholas watched her for a moment but didn’t push the issue. “Would you like some water?” he asked, climbing to his feet.

“Yeah, please,” said Nairi, blinking up at him, and he nodded, crossing the room and giving her a moment to herself.

When he sat down again Nairi realised that even with the cramped, hard plastic chairs he was doing his best to maintain her personal space. The plastic cup was cool in her fingers, an anchor point she hadn’t quite realised she needed, and she murmured a thanks.

“How goes the teaching?” asked Nicholas, and Nairi let the cup dangle loosely in her fingers as she talked to him about the lessons she’d taught that week.

She wasn’t sure if he could tell how uncomfortable she was and was trying to ground her in the mundane small talk of daily life, or if he was simply trying to keep both of them awake. She supposed there was no reason it couldn’t be both. There was a kind of static ebb and flow to a waiting room at four in the morning, and she wasn’t entirely certain she’d have processed much without him engaging her.

The general noise of the room was grating, but Nairi did her best to put that out of her mind, paying the barest attention to the volume of the people talking and flat out ignoring the buzzer over the bay doors. Nicholas noticed when Linden’s voice spoke up first; although, given the brightness, he might actually have noticed her hair.

Either way he stood first, Nairi not far behind him as they crossed to the desk she was standing at. Simon was leaning against the counter as Linden hovered by him looking anxious. He seemed extremely lopsided as they approached, signing the forms for his own release.

Judging by the highly sceptical expressions on the nurse and administrator behind the counter even as they explained to Linden that they couldn’t make him stay in their care, Nairi wasn’t the only one to notice this.

“For Chrissakes Lindy, it’s not like I can afford this anyway,” he was saying.

Linden’s arms were crossed again, hands clenched tight, her expression mulish. “Jesus fuck, Si, what was I supposed to do? Notpanic? You were passed out—”

“That happens sometimes, honestly, I was fine,” said Simon, digging in his wallet and passing several cards through the plexiglass to the administrator on the other side. Her face was carefully neutral, though the nurse’s eyebrows flew all the way to her hairline. “We didn’t need to have all this fuss, dragging people out of bed.”

“We’re just glad to see you’re okay,” said Nicholas, standing a little closer to Linden.

Simon glanced up at them and flashed a wide, false smile, forcing good cheer through gritted teeth. “All correct and accounted for. Sorry to waste your time.”

He took his cards back with a copy of the papers from the counter and the nurse’s cheeks puffed slightly before she stepped away. Simon leaned in and kissed Linden’s cheek, clapping her on the back roughly. “Look, I’m sorry I worried you honey,” he said, stepping back. “We can figure out the money later, okay? I’m gonna go home and get some sleep.”

He walked away from them with a wave, not looking back as he made for the exit. Linden moved to go after him automatically, but Nicholas caught her shoulder with a gentle touch and she stopped, looking up at him. “It might be easier to talk to him after you’ve both rested,” he said, not quite able to hide the disapproval.

Linden slumped, rubbing at her face with both hands. “Yeah. Christ, I’m sorry guys.”

“It’s okay,” said Nairi.

“You did the right thing,” said Nicholas firmly. Then, after a moment: “Please do not take responsibility for his medical bills.”

Nairi swallowed the uncharitable snort swelling in the back of her throat and stepped forward as Linden straightened. “Do you want a ride back?”

Linden nodded, rubbing at her face again. “Yeah, please,” she said, glancing between the two of them. “I’m sorry for making you both come out.”

“It’s okay,” said Nicholas, hugging her around the shoulders. “Get some rest.”

Linden nodded. “I will. Night, Nick.”

“Goodnight,” said Nicholas to the both of them.

In the parking lot as Nairi unlocked her car she hesitated, then carefully hugged Linden herself. Linden leant into it eagerly, pressing her face into Nairi’s neck and clinging tight. “Do you want to stay at mine tonight?” asked Nairi quietly.

Linden took a few breaths before she answered, her voice small. “Yeah. Please.”

#series honey tree #book muay thai #serial fiction #book 1 #115 #lgbt fiction

[beelsnack]

yo like,,, the bro’s with an anxious MC. (it doesn’t have to be like, a panic attack, but like an MC whose always anxious but hides it well except for the occasional leg bounce, nail biting/picking, overall fidgeting. like what would they do to help calm them and point out “you’re doing it again”. would they not like it to the point of being annoyed or would the just be concerned? dhddh sorry)

Y’all ‘bout to find out every one of my nervous tics. 

Also, shush, no apologizing, you could literally send me an ask that is entirely keyboard smash and I would still answer it with as much enthusiasm as any other prompt. And my DMs are open if you need to talk about anything, Nonnie.

Lucifer: He had forgotten how difficult speaking during student council meetings could be.

Lucifer himself wasn’t feeling nervous, but watching the way the human twisted the same strand of a hair around their index finger over and over again made his heart clench in sympathy. For all his smiles and warm welcomes, Diavolo was quite an imposing man.

If they were so anxious, they could have simply refused. The prince hadn’t ordered them to give this report, merely suggested it. But, as with everything they did, they dove headfirst into the project. Honestly, if Lucifer hadn’t picked up on their little nervous habit, he wouldn’t have been able to tell they were uncomfortable.

A sense of pride washed over him as he watched the human power through despite their fear and anxiety. Of course his human would be able to overcome this obstacle.

When, after what Lucifer imagined was the longest five minutes of their life, they concluded their report and the Student Council meeting, he met them outside the chamber.

“You did well.” he placed a hand on their shoulder. He could feel the slight tremors wracking their body, but you would never know that from looking at them. They smiled up at him, laughing sheepishly.

“You think so? I was worried I would forget everything with how nervous I was.”

“Hm...” he used his grip on their shoulder to spin them around. The little “oof” noise they made when he embraced them was just too precious. “Next time, just focus on me and pretend there’s no one else in the room.”

“I don’t think that will make me less nervous, but okay.”

Mammon: They really had no reason to worry. Mammon had watched them recite their notes verbatim the night before, they were going to ace this test.

Lucifer’s threats must have gotten to them.They were laser-focused on the test sheet in front of them, scribbling away like a good little student. (Mammon knew he should be focusing on his own work instead of staring at the human, shut up.) To everyone else, they looked perfectly fine. But Mammon knew their tells.

They had this one necklace that they wore all the time. Nothing fancy, just a simple chain with a charm on it. It was long enough that, when they were particularly worked up, they tended to put the charm in their mouth. Honestly, Mammon was surprised the thing didn’t look like a chewed piece of gum with how often they worried at it.

The last time he got busted for talking in class, Lucifer’s punishment had him wishing he could die. So he did the next best thing.

He nudged them under the desk with his knee. The human nearly hit the ceiling, and he felt a little guilty as he slip the scrap of notebook paper over to them.

Relax, you’ve got this. And you’ve got the Great Mammon here if you need me.

The grateful smile they shot him was more precious than any gemstone, and was entirely worth the scolding he got from the teacher for passing notes.

Leviathan: They had been so excited to go to this concert that they had almost forgotten how much they hated crowds.

Almost.

It was an open air venue, so they weren’t too claustrophobic. But they got anxious in crowds of humans, forget about a crowd of demons. 

Honestly, they loved Sucre Frenzy, and they wanted to dance and sing along with the rest of the crowd, but they were well aware that if they got separated from Levi, they might as well just serve their soul on a silver platter to the nearest demon.

There were already a few who were eyeing them up, just waiting for them to get jostled away. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Levi asked over the roar of the crowd. “This is your favorite song, isn’t it?”

They blinked up at him, subconscious biting at their thumbnail. “It’s just...a bit crowded, you know?” their eyes flicked back to the group of demons that had been inching closer. Levi, surprisingly perceptive, followed their gaze and scowled.

He may have been painfully awkward sometimes, but he was still a ruler of Hell, and when he straightened up from his perpetual slouch and bared his fangs, you could see why.

The other demons slunk off with their tails literally between their legs, and the human breathed out a sigh of relief.

Levi reached out and took their hand, even though they literally were just biting on their nails. “Y-you need to stay close, okay?” it was hard to tell because of the colorful lights flashing from the stage, but they knew Levi well enough to guess that he was probably blushing. “Not like I want to h-h-hold your hand or anything, normie! Lucifer will make me into sushi if something happens to you, is all!”

Satan: Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. 

Satan felt his eyebrow twitch as he looked up from his homework. “Is there a particular reason you’re doing that?”

They jumped, looking away from their own homework. “Huh?”

The demon, instead of responding, took his own pen and clicked the top down and up again.

“Oh!” the human grinned sheepishly, a light blush dusting over the tops of their cheeks. “Sorry. Nervous habit.”

“What are you nervous about?” Satan raised an eyebrow. “We’re just sitting here doing homework.”

They sighed. “I’m so worried I’m going to fail! I wasn’t the best student up in the Human Realm, but down here I don’t know jack shit! And I can’t even bullshit my way through it like I did in my literature classes!”

“Hey, easy.” Satan reached across the small library table they had commandeered for themselves and took hold of their hands. “You won’t fail. You’re smart, and you’ve been working hard since you got here. You’ll be fine. Now please, for the love of everything good in the Three Realms, stop clicking that pen.”

Asmo: “Darling, the straw isn’t edible.”

The two of them had been out for the majority of the day. Asmo had insisted that it was impossible for them to survive the Devildom with just their uniform and a few pairs of lounge clothes, so he had whisked them off to Majolish for an impromptu fashion show. Now, as the sky was turning from the lavender color that was the closest it got to “light” to the thick inky color of nighttime, they had made themselves comfortable in an adorable little cafe where all Asmo had to do was wink at the barista and she gave them a discount.

“Ugh, sorry. That’s definitely not my cutest habit.” they sighed. The tip of their straw was littered in teeth marks.

“Something on your mind? You were staring off into the distance.” Asmo leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. “Come on, you know you can tell me anything.”

They fought to urge to stick the straw back in their mouth. “Majolish didn’t do anything for my self-image, I guess.”

“Eh? Why not? You looked absolutely stunning in anything you tried on.”

“Not compared to the other people in there.” they muttered.

“Darling, they should be comparing themselves to you. Actually, I think some of them were.” Asmo grinned. “We were definitely the cutest couple in there, for sure. So, no more self doubt, okay? Besides,” Asmo’s voice dropped in pitch. “I can think of something else for you to put in your mouth.”

“Are you telling me that you want me to chew on your dick?”

“You wouldn’t be the first one to use a little teeth, darling.”

Beelzebub: “Why do you have Band-Aids on your fingers?”

It wasn’t the first time Beel had noticed it. Periodically, they would should up with most of their fingers bandaged. They always insisted they were fine, but it becoming a more frequent occurrence. 

They had brushed of Lucifer’s concerned, but Beel hoped they had a bit more trust in him. Apparently, he was right.

“It’s a preventative measure.” they sighed. “I always pick at my nails when I’m nervous. Like, to the point where they start bleeding. So, if I keep them bandaged, I can’t pick at them. It’s not like I do it all the time, but I really don’t want my blood being an ingredient.”

“I’ll bet your blood would taste good, though.”

“Not the point, Beel.” they laughed, hip checking him out of the way as they reached for the spice cabinet. “Should I use the yellow spice or the purple?”

“Purple. The yellow one is ground sulfur.”

“See, this is why I keep you around.”

Beel chuckled before a thoughtful look passed over his face. “You said it’s a nervous habit. Are you nervous?”

“Literally all the time.” their tone was light, but Beel heard the soft undertone of exhaustion.

“Why?”

The human shrugged, not turning around to look at him as they stirred the soup. “Every human gets anxious, but some of us are anxious all the time. Like, in a mental health way. I was like this before I got here, it isn’t your fault.”

“Can I help?”

That made the human pause. Finally, they turned around and smiled softly at him. “Trust me, Beel, you already do.”

Belphegor: They were practically vibrating with nervous energy.

The only reason Belphie could tell was because he had made himself comfy on their shoulder while his brother’s tried to decide on what movie to watch.

Well, that, and they were continuously bouncing their leg while rubbing their hand against the material of their jeans.

“Are you always this restless?” he asked, peering up at them through one eye.

“Not usually, no.”

Belphie hummed. “So why are you now, then?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

As their hand made another pass down their leg, Belphie caught it. “If you need something to fidget with, play with my hair.”

“Huh?”

Belphie tugged their hand up to his hair. “Lilith used to do it when she was nervous. It calmed her down for some reason, so you should do it to. Plus, I like having my hair played with.”

They hesitated, and for a moment Belphie worried he might have made a wrong move, but eventually, their hand settled on top of his head. Their fingers idly twisted the strands and scratched lightly at his scalp. Little by little, they settled.

“Thanks Belphie.”

His only response was a yawn, but the human noticed the soft smile on his face.

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

[heart-of-gold-outlaw]

Welcome Home | Chapter Four: Bulletproof Heart

Ao3 Wattpad

All things considered, you think you're fairly well-equipped to handle yourself. You may not be the best at fighting (never really had the occasion), and you're certainly no gunslinger, but you have balance and enough adrenaline rushes to deal with things as they come. O'Driscoll's or bears, as long as you have friends to back you up, you'll be alright.

Well... that's the idea, anyway. In theory. In practice? Only time and experience will tell.

You haven't gotten much better with horses since your last encounter. You still think they're beautiful animals. From afar. And maybe one day, if whatever sent you back in time decides to keep you there, you'll get one of your own. But for now, you'll settle for what you can get.

As Arthur, Bill, John, and Kieran get ready to hunt down Colm O'Driscoll, you find yourself shifting nervously in front of Taima. You don't trust yourself enough to ride without problems. This, to make matters worse, sounds like a job you don't want to mess up. From what you've gathered over the last few weeks (months?), Colm O'Driscoll is bad news. Not that you're traveling with people who are much better, but they, at least, seem to treat people right when it boils down to it.

Arthur notices you standing there and glances at Taima. Looking back to you, he motions for you to walk toward his horse. He named it Florence, if you remember right. It's fitting. The beast looks like something out of a Renaissance painting, anyways.

"We'll let Taima have a rest," Arthur says as he gets in the saddle. He then lifts you up so you're sitting behind him. "And maybe save Charles some trouble."

You nod, trying your best to ignore how warm he is. "Uh-huh. Trouble. Right."

Bill and John ride up next to you, Kieran on the back of Old Boy. He looks nervous. You can't blame him. After the lies you spun, you're surprised he's not terrified. Well... that you can see, anyways.

"We'll have to move quick," Arthur says once you're all on the trail. He's letting John take point, and you grip him tightly, not wanting to face-plant on the ground. "Colm ain't getting away this time."

"Damn right!" Bill agrees from atop his horse. The thing's a beast and easily fitting for a man like him.

Kieran leads you all a little ways away from the Heartlands and into the forest. He sounds better, once he gets his bearings. You can't imagine life in camp has been easy for him. Getting tied to a tree doesn't sound fun in most scenarios. Still, he's not dead. Honestly, that's a step up from what it was looking like in the Grizzlies.

The forest eventually gives way into a small clearing, and Kieran tells everybody to stop. You find yourself holding on to Arthur just a bit tighter when Florence shifts underneath you. He glances back at you. You don't need to look very hard to see the amusement in his eyes. Embarrassingly, your face flushes an unflattering shade of red.

"It's just on the other side of this clearing," Kieran says, thankfully distracting Arthur enough for you to get back in control of yourself. "I would leave your horses here, if I were you."

After Arthur dismounts, you manage to do the same without falling flat on your face. It's a small achievement, but you'll take what you can get.

The five of you start heading for the cabin, Arthur and John taking the lead while dragging Kieran along. You trail behind with Bill. It doesn't take too long for a dilapidated structure to appear, and you're not surprised to see it's absolutely swarming with O'Driscoll's. Thankfully, they haven't noticed a damn thing yet.

"Well, this is gonna be a clusterfuck," you mutter.

Bill's head swivels your way. "What?"

"I said," you repeat, looking him dead in the eye, "this is gonna be a clusterfuck."

He stares at you for a moment, mouth slightly agape. You shrug. He should be used to that kind of language, considering he runs with a gang of outlaws.

Thankfully, Arthur interrupts the exchange before it can go any further. "We gotta keep this quiet," he says. "We can take 'em by surprise, maybe get the jump on Colm." He glances toward three people who are walking your way. "Starting with these bastards."

"You got those throwing knives?" Bill asks.

Arthur gives him a look. "The ones you so kindly forgot to tell me about?"

There's an eye-roll from Bill, followed by his snide retort: "Last goddamn favor I do you."

You watch the O'Driscoll pissing by a tree, lips curling in contempt. You've heard about them, about what they did to Dutch's sweetheart, and about what a nasty gang they are. Not to mention how they made Mrs. Adler a widow. Sadie still won't talk to you—or to anybody, for that matter. If anything, this hit might give her a little peace of mind.

"Alright," Arthur says as he motions for Bill and John to get into position. "We take care of the pisser, then move up on 'em." He turns and hands you a revolver, one you recognize as looted from an O'Driscoll back in the Grizzlies. "Y/N, you keep an eye on ol' Kieran here."

You sigh. "So I'm babysitting now? That's some bull."

"He tries anything," Arthur continues, ignoring your complaint, "and I mean anything, you shoot him dead." He glares at Kieran. "Got that?"

"Yeah." You look at the revolver. You've seen enough movies to know a little about how they work. Still, you don't think watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid is a great safety lesson. "Got it."

Arthur, Bill, and John head out to ambush the O'Driscoll's, leaving you with Kieran. For a few minutes, the two of you just stare at each other. He's still terrified. That much is pretty clear. You roll your eyes and settle against a tree with a huff.

"You do know I'm not gonna shoot you, right?" You ask him.

"Y-You're..." He looks astounded by the revelation. "You're not?"

With another eye-roll, you slowly sink to the forest floor. "Nope. Far as I'm concerned, you're an okay guy."

He watches you warily. You can see him thinking rapidly, can see him wondering if you're telling the truth, and you give him a small smile.

"Listen," you say, just as gunshots start echoing throughout the clearing. You look over to make sure Arthur, Bill, and John are okay, then go back to Kieran. "You and me? We're kinda in a similar boat. We're both new to the gang... well, for different reasons." You shrug again. "Guess I just want a friend who kinda understands."

It takes him a few moments, but eventually, he returns your smile. "Thanks, Y/N... For not killing me."

"Yeah, well," you settle back against the tree again. "I can't make any promises for everybody else."

Kieran laughs a little at that, but then immediately sobers when he glances toward the cabin. "Y/N—look!"

You follow his stare in time to see Arthur heading that way. Through the windows of the structure, you can just barely make out a figure getting ready for an ambush. And Arthur's none the wiser.

Without thinking, you're suddenly on your feet and sprinting toward him. You grip the revolver tightly in your hand. You've never hurt anybody before, never had reason to do so. You've also never shot a gun. But when the door to the cabin bursts open, knocking Arthur to the ground and momentarily stunning him, all hesitation flees from your mind.

A giant of a man steps out into the open. He stands over Arthur, aiming a gun directly at him before he can even react. It takes less than a second, but you fire your revolver and hit Arthur's assailant square in the chest. There's a flare of pain on your hand, but you scarcely notice it. The man drops to the ground, choking and sputtering, and then goes still.

"You okay?" You frantically ask Arthur. You let go of the revolver and run to stand over him as he gets to his feet.

"Sure," he says. "Thank you."

He checks the cabin. You, meanwhile, take a look at your hand. There's an angry burn mark splayed out across your palm, and it's throbbing like all hell. But none of it comes close to the pounding in your head as you slowly move to stand over the dead man on the ground... the man you just killed.

You stare at him. His eyes, sightless and glassy, stare up at the sky. Painfully loud, a high-pitched ringing fills your ears and deafens you to whatever else is happening. Distantly, you're aware of Arthur storming out of the cabin. You don't hear what he says to Bill and John. You don't hear much of anything.

Then—he notices you standing there, still watching the dead man. You see something in his expression soften as he steps closer to you. Still, everything's ringing and ringing and ringing. When Arthur's mouth moves, no sound comes out.

He finally reaches you and gently grips both of your shoulders. With a light shake and some persuasion, you find yourself looking at him. There's something in his eyes you can't quite place. But it sure does look like worry.

Eventually, you come back to the real world. It's startling, to say the least.

"I..." You somehow manage around a rapidly tightening throat. "I killed him."

Arthur nods and carefully pats your back a few times. "You did." He gives you a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

A quick glance around reveals that the entire camp of O'Driscoll's is absolutely demolished. Arthur notices this, then sighs.

"We need to get outta here," he says as he carefully steers you back toward the horses. "We didn't get Colm, but this hit'll hurt him pretty bad." His expression darkens. "And I need to have a few words with Kieran."

You look up at him. "You know," you say, voice sounding distant to your own ears. "He was the one who noticed you were in trouble. I wouldn't have seen it, otherwise."

For a moment, you expect Arthur to ignore everything you just said. When he's on the warpath, you've come to realize, it's not easy to drag him away from it. But, much to your surprise, he looks like he's considering everything. And then, eventually, he nods his head.

"Alright." He keeps a steady hand on your shoulder all the way back to the horses. "Maybe Kieran ain't worth killin'... Yet."

A/N: And here’s the next update! Sorry it’s a little late y’all!

Next Chapter: Alone Together

Previous Chapter: Dirty Rotten Bastards

Inspired Playlist Track: My Chemical Romance - “Bulletproof Heart”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x modern!reader #modern!reader #fic #rdr2 fic #rdr2 fanfic #my fic #my writing #welcome home

[starlightsearches]

Something to Live For Pt. 2

Here’s the second part of the Hux soulmate AU. I’m pretty proud of what I’ve written for this one, and I hope you guys like it. Here’s the first part if you missed it, and there will be a third part coming 💖

Requests are open ✨

Armitage Hux x Resistance Pilot! Reader Soulmate AU Pt. 2

Warnings: ANGST🔥ANGST🔥ANGST🔥ANGST🔥 (and some language)

The general’s hand is heavy on your shoulder as he escorts you through the halls of the Steadfast, and you are keenly aware that this is the first time he’s touched you since you’ve met him, which, by your best estimates, was almost 4 days ago. The pressure is pleasant, firm, but not pushy, and if you turn your head slightly to the side and glance out of the corner of your eye, you can see a small sliver of skin peek out from between the general’s glove and jacket sleeve. You find yourself chewing on your lip, lost in thought, before forcing yourself to snap out of it. Maker, spending all this time alone had addled your brain. You should not be getting this excited about a damn wrist.

“I don’t like this,” his voice sounds off quietly behind you, unaware of your wandering mind, “we should have created a contingency plan in case we run into someone.”

“Don’t worry, General, we’re not going to get caught.” You know he’s skeptical without seeing his face. Does the man ever relax?

“How can you be so sure?” It’s been a running theme the past few days—this specific brand of doubt—in every conversation you’ve had with him, but there’s also a curiosity; he’s always trying to discern what you think of him, and unfortunately, you’ve spent plenty of time worrying about the same. 

“Because if you really thought we might be in danger, we wouldn’t be here.” He’s silent, and you know he’s feeling something, but you’re not sure what it is exactly. You’ve gotten pretty good at recognizing most of his other emotions: anxiety, doubt, exasperation, but this one is new.

“Why do you say that?” His voice is quiet, a soothing murmur that hums through the air, and you wish you could close your eyes and relish the sound. 

“I’d like to believe that you wouldn’t risk my safety, or yours. I trust your judgement.” Was that the right thing to say? He doesn’t respond, but there’s a softening in his grip, a slight tremble in his thumb as he traces its way to the place where your neck meets your shoulder, the pad of his gloved thumb resting on your bare skin. The contact is unprecedented—intimate and gone too soon. You’ve reached your destination.

“You have five minutes,” he says, and as soon as you’re uncuffed you go to work, unzipping the top of your flight suit and shrugging it down to your hips and then to your ankles, stepping out of the legs with a little shake and leaving it in a pile behind you. The barrack refresher is dark, with rows of nozzles down one side and no separation between them. You pick one at random, pulling off your compression top and underwear, shivering in the cold air and reaching for the handle.

You pause, frozen with embarrassment as you remember that you’re not alone, and you turn to see how the general has handled your abrupt undressing. He’s in the room still, but facing the opposite wall, his posture impeccable and his hands resting behind his back. Nothing about him hints that he caught you half-naked, but you flush, wondering how much he saw before he assumed this position. You yank the handle, irritated with yourself; now is not the time for modesty.

A little gasp escapes your parted lips when the water first hits your skin, blissfully warm already and you turn up the heat, letting it burn away any evidence the past few days. It had been hard to convince the general to let you do this, and he’d made a few adjustments to your initial plan, but it all feels worth it now that you can rinse the grime and blood from your face, scrub your hands over your skin. It’s a small victory, and you’re still no closer to an escape, but this makes you feel human again.

There’s a steamy haze in the air, and General Hux can feel himself start to grow damp, droplets of moisture clinging to his cheeks and burrowing into the fabric of his uniform. There’s an anxious hum—deep in his chest—and he tries to convince himself that it’s preparatory, in case the two of you are discovered, but he’s unable to assure himself of the lie. He knows that the real reason he feels this way is because he’s hardwired into your presence, the sound of the water tumbling to the floor like a siren call, another reminder that you're here with him. But for how much longer?

He should be planning for your escape. He should be putting it into motion. It’s difficult, though, to create any kind of plan when the only place on the whole damn ship he feels okay anymore was in your fucking cell. With you. He had tried to keep his distance, but sneaking food had turned to sneaking bits of your time, of your presence. He isn’t ready to be without it. His own weakness vexes him.

The sound of the water stops and a quiet rustling fills the space now as you put your clothes back on, thank the Maker. “I’m decent,” you say and Hux turns back to face you again. Decent is quite the stretch, and his breath catches at the sight of so much skin, the planes of your stomach bare, rising up from the waist of your flight suit before meeting the dark fabric of your compression top.

“Here,” he hands you the protective vest, making concentrated eye contact with the wall behind you, “it’s treated, to deflect blaster fire.” You take it from his hands, shrugging it over your torso and arranging it beneath your flight suit.

“Smart, I never would have thought of it,” you say, fully dressed once again. It takes a moment for Hux to understand that you are sincere in your praise and he’s filled with a warmth, as well as an ache. He’s not well-adjusted to kindness.

“Don’t you normally wear protective gear, as a pilot?” he asks, and you laugh, a low, melodic sound.

“I guess I tend to play things a little too close to the chest. Are you wearing one?”

“Of course.” That was a lie. He only had the one, and was unwilling to take chances of trying to find another. He had given you his. The cuffs are reattached to your wrists, and you exit with him following close behind, a guiding hand on your shoulder once again.

Allowing you to get this close to him had been a mistake, and it would only lead to sorrow. Hux is sure about that, but it’s hard to think about the future now when the present holds such pleasantries, like a word of praise from your lips, or the feeling of his hand resting on your shoulder, only a few thin layers of fabric separating him from bare skin. He’ll have to make the best of the little time he has left.

Suddenly, there are voices, quiet but recognizable, approaching from the other end of the corridor, and Hux pulls you to the nearest doorway, furiously typing in his access code before shoving you in the entrance. A surprised cry escapes your lips, but he smothers it, placing a hand over your mouth and following you inside. The door closes in the nick of time—he can hear Pryde’s shoes as he turns the corner.

“Who was that?” you whisper, and Hux lets go of you immediately, peering through the darkness, trying to take in his surroundings. The room is pitch black but there’s an overpowering smell of disinfectant that makes its way into his lungs and stings his eyes; you must be in a sanitation storage room.

“The allegiant general, and Admiral Griss, I believe. We’ll have to stay here for a moment, until we can be sure that they’re gone.” Hux’s eyes don’t adjust to the darkness, but he can feel you there with him, only inches away, the closest he’s allowed himself to get to you. Minutes pass, Hux is unsure how many, before the silence is broken by the sound of your whisper.

“Can I ask you a question, General?” Should he say no? There’s only silence coming from the hallway, but that doesn’t mean that the two of you are safe.

“I suppose.”

“Why did you do it?” There are small puffs of air brushing his face, and Hux can’t tell whether or not it’s your breath, unsure exactly how close you are to him in this confined space. Every fiber of him is focused on staying still, afraid to brush up against you in the dark. Afraid of what he would feel if he did. Afraid that he would want more. “What made you spy for the Resistance?”

“The Order,” he starts, pausing in an attempt to arrange his thoughts. How could he communicate a lifetime of dissatisfaction and disappointment into words? “is not what I thought it was. I’ve been immersed in this world since I was young, and recently I learned that much of what I had been taught was a lie.”

“Why didn’t you leave, though, when you found out the truth?” You shift closer to him in the dark, shrinking the space between you; the little room is beginning to feel more dangerous than the corridor. Hux is glad that it’s dark—grateful that you can’t see him, because your questions make him feel like he’s without skin. Raw, unprotected, vulnerable. Everything he hates.

“Where would I go?” It’s not even a whisper, he asks the question so quietly, and he knows that he’s told you everything. It’s the worst part of himself laid out in front of you, ugly and desperate and malignant. There’s silence again; you don’t have an answer for him, and Hux is glad for it. He’ll save this feeling; it will make everything much easier when you eventually leave him.

“I wasn’t always a pilot,” you say, brushing against his arm with your own, maybe as a gesture of comfort, “Before I joined the Resistance, I was a negotiator-” there’s a pregnant pause, and Hux can imagine what you look like without being able to see you: the anxious way that you bite your lip, your hands curling into fists at your sides,” -for the Guavian Death Gang.” You swallow, loudly, before moving away, separating yourself from him in shame.

“Oh my god,” there’s not much else Hux can say in response. He knows about the gang: they’re cruel, exacting, violent. Nothing like you.

“I hurt a lot of people,” you continue, and your voice is thick with tears, “Some of them might have deserved it, but most of them . . . didn’t, and I didn’t even choose to leave. They turned on me and I ran. Poe found me when I had nowhere else to go.” There’s a lot for Hux to process here, and he’s not sure if he’s capable of it in his current state. His initial impression of you has been completely shattered, and he’s surprised to find that it only serves to draw him closer to you, when he sees what you’ve become.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get off of this ship,” you say, “and I’m not saying that saving me, or helping the Resistance, or anything like that is going to make up for what you’ve done. But I want to give you a chance, General. I believe that you could be a good man.” Hux barely heard anything you said, he’s feeling lost and lightheaded; all he knows is that now feels like a good time to kiss you, when everything is quiet, in a place that is dark. Hidden here, out of sight, he feels like he could do something reckless. 

“We should be safe to leave now,” he says instead. His voice is hoarse and he swallows, hoping to clear any evidence of sentiment before returning to the light of the corridor. He leaves first and checks to make sure that the hallway is empty before ushering you out as well. He does not place his hand on your shoulder this time, instead walking back to your cell and allowing you to follow.

The rest of the journey is uneventful, and Hux opens the door, following behind you reluctantly as you enter, removing your cuffs with a detached air.

“I have a plan for your escape,” he says without looking at you, “tomorrow night. Be ready.” This will be good, Hux tells himself. Better to get it over with.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, General,” there’s a small smile on your face, but it doesn’t reach your eyes; you can sense that something is wrong. He hopes that you know this isn’t your fault.

“Yes, tomorrow. Good night.” He leaves without looking back, and for the first time Hux can remember, tears threaten to spill from his eyes. If the Maker exists, he thinks, they must be cruel. Only a vengeful god would bring someone like you into his life, just to take you away.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux #soulmate au #my writing #star wars fanfic #general hux x reader #general hux x you #long post

[haikyuuscreaming]

omg hi! you started off your blog greatly, im so proud of you! do you think you can write an angsty scenario for akaashi? where his crush likes this guy and wants help from him and he feels all sad :( but she ends up confessing to him! i love your writing so far, keep it up!

UMM so i accidentally got really invested in this so it’s WAYY longer than a drabble and i often write long stuff bc of ao3 so this might sound a little more like that kinda fanfic style instead of a tumblr scenario? mainly cos im really a sucker for this stuff hehehe love you anon

also ! the request made it sound sort of akaashi-centric so i hope you dont mind? there will still be a lot of reader-chan here though! please dont leave yet and i hope u enjoy

again ALSO i wrote this half on my laptop half on my phone so please dont mind if it seems a lil clunky in some areas 

3092 words jesus ok here you go

-

Crushes weren’t necessarily a new sensation for Akaashi. Just an uncommon one. In fact, the last time he remembers even being attracted to someone was in first grade when everyone had a crush on this popular girl. He’s not even sure if he really liked her, or just found the idea of it interesting.

Now, second year of high school, Akaashi finds himself in trouble. Because for once, he really, really, really likes this girl. You. 

He can’t even fake himself out of this, because every damn time he looks at you, he feels all warm and tingly and his stomach feels less calm and he can hear his heart bump against his ribcage and god, his face even flushes a little bit.

(A little bit inconvenient when he accidentally finds himself staring at you and daydreaming.)

Akaashi doesn’t like this feeling.

I mean, yeah, Akaashi has somewhat of a sense of confidence in his looks, manners, and ability to make friends. He’s not exactly the top in each subject he thinks, but it lets him pass through high school without too much of a depressingly lonely life. He could easily befriend you and steal your heart, his inner ego-brat says.

But.. but what if you reject him?

He should become closer to you.

(For the record, he doesn’t not like the feeling. He kind of likes the serotonin boost you give him. But he definitely, more than kind of likes you.

A lot more.)

And one day, in the spring, he finds himself paired up with a special biology partner. With familiar, sparkling eyes and the cutest, most gorgeous voice he’s ever heard that always makes his heart fucking backflip.

Akaashi doesn’t think he can survive this.

His teacher blares, “Start brainstorming ideas for your science fair project! It’s due in a month, you know!”, but Akaashi blocks out the noise because all he can focus on is you, goddamn it. He can only focus on the way you push your hair out of your face, the way your lips upturn into the most stunning smile he’s ever had the fate of encountering, and he really hopes he doesn’t get h-

“Akaashi-kun?”

(Fuck you and your completely gorgeous voice that drives him up the wall and makes him want to kiss you.)

“Oh– sorry, yeah?” He kind of hates himself for how his voice lilted a pitch higher.

You laugh, sounding like a goddess. He hopes that it means you don’t hate him. “Ahaha, I was just wondering if you have any ideas for the science fair? It’s a pretty big chunk of our grade, and I am… not the smartest when it comes to AP Bio..”

Akaashi thinks quite the opposite, but he isn’t currently in the position to contradict you.

“Um…” He pauses and thinks furiously. He comes up with some borderline generic idea that has enough room for a unique twist. And your eyes brighten.

“Waaaoo, Akaashi-kun’s a genius, hm?”

(God, he thinks he might have a little more than a crush on that teasing grin and glittering pair of eyes.)

He musters the courage to smile without looking stupid. “Of course.”

Two weeks later, he wants to sink into a hole.

Yes, it might have been his request that you two meet up to work on the project, but that was because he knew you were a procrastinator! You would start the project the night before if he’d let you!

But it was not his idea to do it at his house.

Now he has to live with the fact that you’re lying on HIS bed, spread-eagled in your sweater and shorts, complaining about how lazy you are.

(He wonders how you’re so comfortable about wearing shorts to a male classmate’s house. You two aren’t even that close, although you claim otherwise.)

“Come on, get up,” he rolls his eyes. “We have work to do.”

“But I’m so tiiiiiredddd… and lazyyyy…. wouldn’t it be such a gentlemanly act of Akaashi-kun to do the project for me?” You flash him a sweet smile while stretching out even more on the bed.

Snorting, he watches you sink into his mattress and roll around idly. “Hey, don’t you need the grade? You can’t pass if you make me do your work.”

Sighing, you hum in defeated content. “Well, it was worth a try.” You reach out your hand and tousle his wavy hair, and he almost flinches at the touch. He hates to say it but he loves it so much that you’re so affection with him, and Akaashi knows he would give anything to keep you teasing him with all this attention.

“Yeah.. yeah, it was,” he murmurs to himself before letting himself sit down next to you. He notices how you scrunch your body from a spread-eagle to a cute, curled up position to make room for him.

“Mm, so how are we gonna do this?” you ask, with a subtle mixture of bored and curious seeping into your tone. Then, he watches your features melt into a warm, mischievous smile as you hum, “Unless you just wanna nap and cuddle or something.”

(Holy fuck.)

Akaashi forces himself to scowl playfully and he shakes his head, sighing loudly in mock disappointment. “I don’t know what to do with you.” And equally as teasing, he adds, “I should just kick you out and not treat you to lunch if you’re going to be like this.”

“Noooooo!!!” you whine in this adorably frustrated and threatening voice. “Don’t you dare starve me or I’m feeding you to the rats.”

He chuckles. “See, that’s what I thought.”

But of course, your face wraps into a devilish grin as you say in a singsong voice and throw your arms around him (which makes him flush and makes his heart go WABAM), “It doesn’t matter though, ‘cause I got this whole-ass meal right here~”

“Shut up.”

(But you both know he never means it.)

Thanks to Akaashi (and your obliging albeit lazy participation), you two blow the science fair out of the way and get an A. He’s never seen you so delighted about a grade.

“I’m so happy~” you never shut up about how grateful you are for him, not that he’s complaining. “This is probably the highest mark I’ve ever gotten in this class.”

“Don’t over exaggerate. You’re not too bad at Bio,” Akaashi remarks. “You just need a tutor, probably, if you’re struggling.”

(By the way, he is ecstatic that you two are ACTUALLY FRIENDS!!! He’s even met your dog!!)

“Hmmmm…” You eye him warily before shrugging. “Whatever you say, Akaashi-kun.” Your eyes flit around before returning on him, and you start rambling about the newest anime you’ve gotten into and how it’s practically on-par with the manga, and how hot one of their characters are-

(For some reason Akaashi really zeroes in on that part.)

He really feels like he has to contribute something to the conversation, so he puts in, “Wow, [Name]-san, you’re such a fangirl.”

You snort loudly and put two peace-signs to your face like some kawaii anime girl, doing this mock-sweet smile. “Waaaooo, you’re rightttt. I’m Akaashi-kun’s number one fan!! He’s so cute when he’s yelling at me to do my work and super hot when he helps me with homew-”

He swears to god his face is radiating an inhuman amount of heat and he rolls his eyes before shaking his head and jabbing your side lightly. “Didn’t I tell you not to say that?”

“Ummm, maybe.” Your ‘innocent’ grin tells him otherwise. “But you know, you’re right, Akaashi-kun,” you cross your arms and give your cute little smirk again. “I am a genius, and I’m suuuper good at Bio. I just need someone to channel it.” And you lean forward until both your noses are touching, and Akaashi thinks he’s about to explode. “So maybe you could help me out?”

The subtle pleading undercurrent in your voice compels Akaashi to straighten up a little bit without flushing even redder. Keep cool, keep cool.

(He prays that his skill of keeping a poker face will hide the blood rushing around in his dick.)

“Well, what time?”

This time around, he finds himself at your house instead. You both are sitting at your desk, ‘working’ on your math and Bio homework. In other words, just talking.

He’s confident now in that the two of you are close friends. He’s learned that from afar, you were a sweet and confident yet perfectly kind girl. That was the girl he based his feelings off of. During your Bio project, he found the cheeky, sly and vibrant yet chill girl who always teased him but was still nonetheless sweet.

And now, under that facade, you were an anxious mess with a shit-ton of insecurities.

(He thinks it’s funny how you boast that you’re just like Shrek. You have layers.)

Akaashi glances at you, groaning with your head down onto the table. “I hate math..” he hears you grumble.

“Hey, you’re not too bad. You just have to be careful when plugging in your equations,” he counters.

“But what if I can’t remember my equations??”

“We both know you’re fine at remembering them.”

“I’m gonna fail.”

“Have faith in yourself, because I do.” And Akaashi is being completely honest. His confidence in you being just fine and being able to pass all your classes is strong because he’s seen you work (after procrastinating). “You just have to work on not putting things off until the last minute.”

You make a frustrated noise before resting your chin on your propped hand. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just.. destined to be set back, y’know? Like, everything I do is gonna somehow backfire on me.”

He knows the feeling, especially late at night in bed, stressing over what tomorrow might bring him.

“And like… I have this whole thing set up for me. When people know me as a classmate, I’m an average student, right? Then when we’re like… ‘friends’, I’m all weird and tease-y.” You let out a loud sigh. “And to the unlucky people who get to this stage, I’m a mess.”

“Stop.” Akaashi’s surprised at how firm he is. “I’m grateful to have met you and to have become your friend, [Name]. You’re going to be fine, you need to trust yourself more. Because I trust you more than anything.”

(Yes, he is on first-name basis with you!! Yes, he trusts you even more than he might even trust Bokuto!!)

Your lips twitch into a small smile, one that he’s grown to love and adore. He’s confident that he’s so fucking deep in love and he doesn’t know how to move on. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.” He flicks some crumpled-up post-it at you. “Since we’re not doing any homework anytime soon, what else do you want to talk about?”

Your gaze becomes a little more shy and nervous. “Umm… Weeell, I need help.”

“I mean, why else would I be here?”

“No, seriously, Keiji-kun. Seriously!!” You throw mock-fit, despite obviously looking anxious.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m listening. Sorry.”

“Uh. Um, so…” You blink and pretend to look focused on doodling on the corner of your math paper. “There’s this dude I like. Like, I reaaally like him, which is surprising even for me.” You laugh a little bit, and as Akaashi feels his heart start to tear in half, he forces out a chuckle to match. “He’s suuuper pretty– I think that’s the word for it? Pretty. And he’s kinda funny in his own way, and he’s really sweet and listens to me all the time even when I don’t deserve his time. And I dunno, I think he might like me back? Also, I really really really like him. But I don’t really know how to confess…

“Because you know, I’m kinda wack like that, haha. I’ll probably screw up the confession and make things worse, and, well, I need help.” You finish your ramble with a loud breath and you collapse your head onto the table, groaning.

“Uh–” Fuck, oh fuck him, fuck his life. “I mean… I think just a heartfelt confession would do? Something simple and sweet that says you really like him, in case somehow your words don’t work.” Akaashi feels like he’s sweating, a lot, and he feels even more frustrated than ever. His heart is crashing against his ribcage, and his mind is a fucking mess.

You frown a little bit, and suddenly a gush of words fly out of your mouth like a stream bursting from a dam. “Oh my god, what if I’m reading the signs all wrong and he doesn’t at all like me back? I mean, I wouldn’t blame him because I’m kinda ugly and have this weird personality thing going on and I’m shit at math and Bio-”

“Stop.” Akaashi forces himself to intervene, mainly because 1) you’re literally the light of his life and 2) he feels like he has to leave really soon after dealing with the news. “Shut up, [Name]. You aren’t ugly at all, and I, for one, enjoy your weird personality. And I already told you, you’re fine with academics.” He makes himself make eye contact with you, peering up from your arm covering your face, and says, “If he rejects you, he isn’t worth your time at all and you should move on.”

(Preferably with me.)

He watches you exhale, like he just unwound a tight spring from inside of you, and your shoulders relax and you melt from your anxious state, just a little bit. “You’re right. If.. if he doesn’t feel the same, I’ll just forget about him.”

“Because you’re a genius.” Akaashi tries to hype you up, but he still feels like crumbling. Falsely checking his phone, he stretches and stands up. “I have to go now, sorry. My mom asked me to pick up my little sister from tutoring.”

“Huh, already?” Confusion flits across your face, and it hurts him even more to just leave you after you confided in him, but he knows he has to leave before he says something he might regret. “Oh, okaayy.. see you tomorrow then. Thanks for helping me out.” You yawn before standing up to hug him goodbye.

“No problem.” He says it casually, but Akaashi feels his mood drop faster and lower than ever. He hugs you back, but he breaks away fast.

After leaving your house and collapsing onto his bed in his locked bedroom (with his 11-year-old sister knocking on the door and curiously asking what’s wrong), he can’t help but feel hurt that you couldn’t even tell him who your mystery crush’s name was.

A week passes by, and neither of you mention the conversation at your house. It doesn’t matter either way, since you two are still so casually best friends. At the same time, he desperately wants to push the matter just to find out who it is.

Otherwise, Akaashi has noticeably been more quiet and moody to the point that he doesn’t know how to control it. Sure, he keeps up the same as he would before your conversation, but he can’t help but feel his heart sink everytime he sees you. His mind is ecstatic every time he talks to you, while simultaneously wanting to tear itself apart.

He’s tried getting rid of feelings for you, in literally every way possible. From avoiding thinking about you (which backfired horribly because he ended up thinking more about you) to focusing on other girls (ew, none of them were even capable of creating the same effect on him as you do), he’s tried it all and it’s all failed.

Akaashi realizes his silent slump has gotten so bad to the point that Bokuto made him sit out a few practice matches in the gym just because Akaashi was nowhere near the spot that any of the team expected him to be at.

After school, he meets with you near the vending machine as always. You buy two cans of coffee, one for you and one for him.

As soon as he takes the can gratefully, you clear your throat.

“Yeah, [Name]?”

Glancing around before staring him in the eye, you start, “Keiji-kun, before you run away, I just…. I just wanted to let you know I really really really like you. Like, a lot.” You start speaking kind of fast, so Akaashi can’t process what you’re saying.

“And I mean it. Ever since the Bio project, you’ve been so nice to me and you’ve been such a great friend even though I made it hard sometimes, and along the way I just caught feelings. You honestly mean everything to me, and I appreciate you so much for everything we’ve been through. I- I think, I love you, Keiji. And I hope you accept my feelings.” You smile, almost nervously but nonetheless sincere, and Akaashi thinks he’s about to explode.

“I- I,” Fuck, oh my fucking god, he thinks to himself. He’s shaking a little bit– that’s how happy he is. “[Name], I..” God fucking damn it, he can’t even express how happy he is. He feels his cheeks blossom and he feels his lips quirk into this goofy smile.

But then he watches you shy away a little bit as you hurriedly say, “I- I mean, sorry. It’s okay if you just wanna be friends-”

“No.” Finally, Akaashi can use his mouth and then he gently takes your cheeks in his hands and closes the gap between you two, lips connecting in a display of pining and affection.

He practically melts into the kiss, he’s never been so happy. He thinks he’s actually about to implode; he’s been dreaming about kissing you like this, against your soft, plush lips. And finally he’s able to call you his, to call you the one. When the two of you finally break away for air, he’s breathing hard and his mind is a mess, which is rare considering his usual stoic state.

Akaashi has also never seen you so flustered and blushy. He murmurs into your ear as he takes your hand, “Feelings are 100% reciprocated.”

“I can tell,” you laugh breathily, and he’s so happy to hear that some of your anxiety has dissolved in that sweet kiss. He’s absolutely infatuated with you in every aspect. He leans in for a soft, quicker kiss on the lips and savors the feeling of warmth he gets. “Dork.”, he whispers.

“Only for you.”

#akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu scenarios #holy shit this is long #this wasnt supposed to happen

[werewolfdays]

Touch prompt #8 please!

8. to protect:

“Why use trail cams?” I asked as I tightened the straps of one on a tree, “I mean, it’s not like Ivan can’t afford some fancy security. He’s definitely invested a lot into the Lodge itself.” 

Jayde always moaned and complained whenever she had to replace the trail cameras around the Lodge’s property, so I figured I would join her this time around. No one liked doing this particular job. I suppose it was pretty tedious. Jayde and I have spent the majority of the day replacing two dozen trail cameras scattered around certain points along the perimeter that were considered blind spots for patrols. 

We used an off road jeep to make things go faster, but the process became a little mind numbing. Drive, park, set up cameras, go back to the jeep, drive, park, set up cameras… I didn’t even notice evening was approaching until it was getting more difficult for me to see. 

“Well,” Jayde started to answer patiently, half distracted by activating another camera, “For more than a few reasons, actually. These cameras are built to be out in the elements and they last a long time without any maintenance. They’re camouflaged. It’s cheaper and less conspicuous to be buying them. They’re motion activated so we don’t have to comb through hours and hours of footage if we need to. And these ones in particular give us alerts when they’ve caught something.” 

“Those are all pretty solid reasons.” I said and accepted the newly activated camera she handed me. 

She shrugged, “Sometimes you don’t need fancy equipment. Just functional.”

The two of us trudged quite a distance away from the last one, making sure that the cameras were all evenly spaced out. Now that I was aware of the approaching darkness, it seemed to consume the dense forest a lot quicker, the clusters of branches soaking up the blackness of night. It was noticeably darker once we arrived at the next point. I fished into my pack for a handheld flashlight, glancing at Jayde enviously as she went to work on activating a camera without any difficulty seeing the mechanics. 

“This isn’t the worst date night.” I remarked while I waited for her to finish with the camera and hand it to me. 

Jayde snorted, “I suppose. Could definitely be a bit more romantic though.” 

I leaned my shoulder against the trunk of a tree and sported a smirk, “What isn’t romantic about setting up trail cameras with your werewolf girlfriend in the middle of the woods?” 

Her amused grin drifted up towards me for a moment, “There is a nice ambience.” 

“And we’re doing an activity together.” 

“Sure. Even if it’s not exactly the activity I’d prefer doing on a date night.” Jayde’s eyes flashed up again to shoot me a wink. 

My cheeks grew hot at the hidden meaning she was hinting at. “I’m sure you can wait a little longer for that. We’re almost done.” 

The forest grew pitch black by the time we headed to our last tree. The flashlight in my hand was the only thing that allowed me to see at all, and even then I would get slightly tripped up by the occasional root or rock. Jayde remained close and alert for me, her gaze shifting over our surroundings with meticulous focus. I really had no clue how she could sense anything in that seemingly endless darkness, but I was grateful for it. The woods can be kind of creepy at night sometimes. Especially this close to the property line where Jayde would patrol for threats. 

I struggled a little more than necessary when attaching the last trail cam to the tree, trying to juggle the flashlight in my hand while connecting the straps. It took me a little too long to realize I had an extra pair of hands with Jayde here. I rolled my eyes at myself, holding the camera in place with one hand and holding the flashlight out towards Jayde with the other. 

“Can you hold this for me?” I asked with a brief glance over my shoulder. My grip on the camera wasn’t as secure as I intended, it started to slip out of place and I brought my other hand back to catch it, but that just made everything jumbled up in my arms. “Crap. Jay, I could really use a hand here.” 

“Nadya.” Jayde said. 

My name came out of her mouth in an extremely tense whisper. A warning exhaled under her breath. I didn’t even need to see her for that to put me on high alert in just under a second flat. My head turned towards her and the first thing I saw were her glittering amber wolf eyes staring out into the darkness. She was looking outwards from the property line, her entire body still, every muscle coiled and ready. 

“Come here.” Jayde commanded quietly, “Turn your light off.” 

I obviously couldn’t sense whatever she was sensing, I couldn’t even hear anything out there in the night. Nevertheless I did what I was told, knowing without any doubt that if Jayde was certain something was out there, then something was out there. Turning off the flashlight would get rid of one of the only senses I had that would help me in this situation, but I felt confident with Jayde having my back. Once darkness engulfed us, I slowly lowered the trail camera down on the ground and took careful steps towards the shape in the dark I knew was Jayde. 

As soon as I got to her, Jayde held out an arm in front of me like a shield. Her hand rested on my hip, the protective touch easing my nerves, and she slowly pushed me behind her while her gaze remained firmly locked on whatever she sensed lurking in the cover of trees and night. I held onto her arm, peering over her shoulder to try and find any glimpse of movement at all, but there was nothing my human senses could pick up on, which was frustrating. 

“What’s out there?” I whispered, only loud enough for Jayde to hear. 

She didn’t answer me, only stood as still as a sentinel and waited. Her muscles were so rigid that it felt like the hand gripping her upper arm was holding on to stone. I couldn’t see her face, so I focused once more on the curtain of black before us. The longer I stared, the more I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, swirls of shadow swaying back and forth while my eyes desperately searched for anything. I even thought I could see vague pinpricks of light. 

Then I started to think that it wasn’t an illusion of night. Two pinpricks seemed to be getting closer, traveling low to the ground. A snap of a twig confirmed this was no figment of my imagination. With its cover now blown, the strange wolf released a low rumbling growl that raised all the hairs on the back of my neck as it continued to stalk closer. 

The wolf got within twenty feet before Jayde finally let out her own menacing warning, “Not a step closer.”  

They halted at her words, but didn’t stop their challenging grumble. My eyes had adjusted enough to make out the shape of the predator, to see that this wolf was not on the small side. Apart from the glowing yellow eyes and the flash of white teeth, I couldn’t make out the color of their coat, but it had to be dark to blend in so well with their surroundings. 

“Leave. You want in, then I suggest you come back with a better attitude.” Jayde stated with slow and commanding words. 

The wolf didn’t seem impressed by Jayde’s display of authority. In fact, their growls seemed to become deeper and more threatening and they started to pace back and forth like an animal trapped in a cage. They didn’t advance just yet, but this behavior made me think they were looking for an opening. My heart started to race. 

“When I tell you to go to the jeep, you run.” Jayde ordered under her breath at me. 

I gripped her tighter in an unwillingness to leave her side, but I wasn’t sure how I could match a massive werewolf, in their wolf form, in the middle of the night. There were even doubts bouncing around in my head at Jayde’s chances. She was a strong and capable fighter in both of her forms, but this beast had fangs and claws, whereas she was stuck without hers right now. We stupidly left the only gun we had in the jeep. The long day of work made us careless. Maybe this wolf had been stalking us all day, waiting for this exact opportunity. 

There was no time to ponder a defensive plan because the wolf decided to strike. The black mass of snarling teeth and fur sprang forward so fast that their glowing yellow eyes became a blur. 

“Go!” Jayde shouted at me, shoving me away from her and preparing to meet the hostile beast. 

I scrambled away on instinct, but the image of Jayde getting torn apart by this rogue wolf popped into my mind and the terror of it made my limbs turn into lead. Then I realized I wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway, because when I turned around, I saw the large werewolf gunning straight for me. 

It felt like my heart completely stopped. Jayde couldn’t get to the wolf before it got to me, I didn’t even have the time to cry out. The massive beast slammed into my body, taking me down and knocking all of the wind out of my lungs once my back impacted with earth. I was nearly crushed under their weight. 

Was this it? I thought. At the very least, a bite was guaranteed. There was nothing to stop the wolf from tearing into me. All they would need is a second to do it and I would be totally helpless for exactly that long while Jayde rushed to get to me. 

All I saw was a snarling mess of razor sharp teeth baring down towards my throat. I shut my eyes, bracing for the moment they clamped down. But I didn’t feel any pain. Only heard the loud clack of snapping jaws next to my ear with a short rush of wind. My eyes suddenly opened in confusion, thinking that they somehow missed their mark, but then I saw the satisfied expression on the werewolf. They weren’t trying to kill me or turn me. They were trying to scare me. 

That’s when Jayde got to us. She used all of her strength to tackle the giant wolf off of me and engage in a vicious attack. While she might not be in her wolf form, she still delivered a bone breaking right hook straight into the wolf’s face. They yelped and flinched away from her, trying to shake off the blow. Her own furious snarls echoed into the woods as she went for another devastating attack. The element of surprise was her advantage, but only for a few moments. I could see that the enemy werewolf was about to gain the upper hand. They managed to strike with a swipe of their claws, ripping through Jayde’s jacket and knocking her off balance. The opportunity was used to pin her down.  

“Jay!” I called out hoarsely, still struggling to regain even basic breath. 

I couldn’t just lie here and do nothing. There had to be something around that could help me. Somehow the flashlight was still in my grasp, but that was too small to be a useful weapon. After oxygen finally returned to my lungs, I turned it on to desperately look around. Maybe a rock or a big enough stick would help. Then my beam shone over the backpack we left by the tree and I remembered the hunting knife we had. It wasn’t as ideal as a gun, but it was certainly better than nothing.  

I shakily got to my feet and rushed toward it, hoping that Jayde would be able to hold out for a few more seconds. My hands scrambled inside the pack until my fingers finally wrapped around the handle of the blade. I pulled it out, discarding the sheath, and directed my flashlight over to the battling tangle a few yards away from me. It was impossible to tell if Jayde had been hurt, but the dark brown wolf was big enough that I wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally stabbing her. 

I ran at them, wasting no time in raising my arm and bringing the knife down on the back of the werewolf that had my girlfriend pinned. The blade sunk more than halfway in and the wolf let out a high pitched whine, recoiling away from us. I pulled the knife free and firmly placed myself between Jayde and our assailant once they made their retreat. 

“Stay back!” I yelled, glaring at them. 

They glared right back at me in both contempt and surprise, clearly not expecting me to injure them at all. 

Jayde sprang up behind me. I almost turned around to check on her condition, but I knew I should never take my eyes off of an enemy. She carefully took the knife out of my hand and stepped in front of me once more, breathing hard and full of rage. 

“That all you got?” She challenged. 

A human chuckle sounded from within the trees and a man stepped into view, holding his hands up casually, “Okay, okay, we’ve had our fun.” 

It was hard to make out any details of his face, but he was a fairly tall man. Possibly not that much older than I was because his voice sounded mature, yet still somewhat young. He carried himself confidently, surprisingly laid back despite the tense scene. I frowned as his shoulders still shook with laughter, not understanding how any of this was funny. More puzzling was when he waved his hand and the wolf that just attacked us backed off. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jayde’s voice shook with fury at the revelation that this assault seemed to be a big joke of some kind.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. After what you pulled at Miranda’s gathering, you honestly didn’t think nobody would come and test the might of a new alpha.” He mocked and took a nonchalant step forward, “You’re lucky I didn’t tell Bruce to bite your little human. I only wanted to mess with you a bit.” 

Jayde held a protective hand out over me again, her palm resting flat against my abdomen to make sure I stayed where I was. I could tell she would not budge from her place in front of me this time. 

“Let me make something extremely clear to you.” She used the same tone with this man as she had when warning the wolf, and I actually saw his smile start to fade, “No one threatens her. I don’t give a shit if it’s just a joke. Anyone that hurts her or scares her, whatever the fuck, will answer to me.” 

The stranger’s laugh grew slightly nervous at her intensity. Bruce, the werewolf I stabbed, was lying down in the dirt and whimpering, trying to reach the wound on his back to nurse. I almost volunteered to look at it, but I couldn’t imagine Jayde would let me anywhere near these two. I wasn’t exactly eager to get close to the massive wolf that nearly tore my throat out either. 

“Look, maybe it was a bit… much... to toy with your mate like that. No hard feelings, alright? Why don’t I buy you two a drink at the Lodge and we’ll have a good laugh about it?”

Jayde didn’t seem swayed by that lackluster apology, “You’re not going to the Lodge. I won’t allow it.” 

The stranger scoffed and stood up straighter. I gathered this man was an alpha in his own right, though I didn’t recognize him at all. He had to be from a lesser known pack. “I have permission to enter from Ivan Cortez himself. You have no say.” 

“I do have a say.” Jayde growled, “Ivan gave me the authority to remove individuals who display violence on these grounds unprovoked. Which means I get to tell you to promptly fuck off.” 

He snarled quietly, pulling a phone out of his pocket and going to dial a number, “We’ll see about that.” 

“Go ahead. Call Ivan and tell him I say you’re not allowed in.” The alpha hesitated at her words, sensing more to them just like I did, “I don’t care if he clears you. You take one step over that line, it won’t end well for you.” 

After a long moment of pondering his chances, he lowered the phone and placed it back in his pocket. 

“Apologize to her.” Jayde added in a curt command. 

Even in the dark, I could see the stranger scowl, but I sensed his attention drift over to me, “I apologize for any offense or any injury I’ve caused. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again.” 

I gave an accepting nod, “Maybe you’ll find a better sense of humor in the future.” 

“Maybe. You two have a good night.” He said while backing away. The stranger motioned for his pack member to follow and the injured wolf hobbled along after his alpha. Jayde must have done more damage to him than I previously thought, there’s no way my stab wound alone was causing him to limp like that. 

Once they disappeared back into the woods, Jayde fully turned to face me. Her expression became one of concern as her hands ran over my body to assess any potential injuries on me. I doubted I would have anything more than some bruising later, but Jayde still looked frantic. 

“Are you okay?” Her golden eyes searched me as thoroughly as her hands did. 

“I’m fine, Jay, I’m okay.” I quickly reassured her, trying to use my flashlight for my own inspection. 

There was some blood splattered in her clothes where Bruce’s claws made contact, but not too much. Hopefully they were shallow cuts. Either way, I wanted to get her back home and to the clinic. 

“He didn’t bite you? He didn’t draw any blood?” She gently cupped my face and scanned my features. 

“No. I’m okay.” I repeated confidently. 

Jayde pulled me into such a fierce embrace, burying her face into the crook of my neck. She took in a deep breath to inhale my scent, and released through a long sigh that allowed her tense body to soften. I held her too, feeling just how terrifying it must have been for her to see that wolf take me down, and I let relief wash over me in the safety of her arms. 

“Are you okay?” 

She nodded against me, “Just some scratches, it’s nothing.” 

We pulled back enough to look at each other again. Jayde’s eyes no longer had the glow of her wolf and her hand came up to rest on the side of my neck, her warm palm against my pulse like she needed to feel the steady beat of my heart against her skin. Her thumb brushed my jawline and I was overcome with the comfort of her contact, tilting my head forward until our foreheads lightly bumped together. 

“That stupid motherfucker...” She cursed under her breath while shaking her head, “I’m so sorry.” 

“We were expecting something like this to happen. It definitely wasn’t okay, but it could have been worse.” I told her. She was still tense, so I leaned in. 

The kiss I pressed to her lips was gentle, yet reassuring, wanting to make sure she was positive that I was fine. She melted into me even more when she kissed back, causing me to smile a little against her mouth. I kept it brief, giving her one more peck before pulling away from her. 

 “Let’s set that last camera up and get out of here. I wanna go home.” 

“So do I.” She murmured. 

But Jayde wasn’t fully satiated yet. Her other hand came up to mirror the one cupping the side of my neck and she leaned in to give me a deeper kiss than I had given her. This one was more intimate than the last, pulling me in and anchoring me to her, banishing any lingering fear from both of us. A warm emotion replaced it, pooling in my chest like a sunrise, and making me feel completely safe again, even in the darkness that surrounded us.

Her lips made one more soft stroke against mine and then Jayde slowly broke away from me, walking back to the tree where the trail camera was left and strapping it on the trunk.

#asks #anon #ocs #original characters #werewolves #my ocs #my writing #by golly y’all this election is Stressing me out #so I haven’t been able to focus on writing much #but here’s a prompt for ya! #I’ll try to get to the others here soon and also work on plot things #but in the meantime pray for my garbage country #Jayde #Nadya #Nadya pov

[duelistkingdom]

12 days of christmas: day 9

day nine is encourageshipping with established peachshipping. this is a rather lengthy piece and fairly romcom esque. turns out, it is atem’s dearest wish to duel jolly old saint nick. more to the point, anzu’s having a hard time over how hot both yugi and atem are. as usual, thank you so much to @millenniumpuzzle for beta’ing!

you can read it on ao3 here!

the 12 days series will be here!

if you like my work, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Anzu and Yugi had been dating for some time now and this Christmas was just a little different than last Christmas. For one thing, Atem didn’t have a body of his own last Christmas and had been sharing Yugi’s. Due to that set up, Atem had very little concept of personal space when it came to Yugi. Before, when they were sharing a body, this had presented little issue, as Anzu could not see Atem hanging off Yugi all the time, nor did Atem crash Aznu and Yugi’s dates. However, things were different now. Atem was now showing up on their dates all the time, he was constantly pressed up against Yugi while Anzu was trying to hold hands with her boyfriend, and he was just... always around.

While Anzu knew she should mind, the truth was... she really didn’t. She’d always harbored a tiny bit of a crush on Atem, and him being around with Yugi was... well, it was more than she was willing to admit to, that was for sure. In fact, she tried to not focus on all the things that it did to her mind. If she allowed her mind to go there… then that wasn’t fair. She couldn’t let herself think those things. It was overwhelming enough when Atem decided to squish himself between her and Yugi when they were trying to cuddle on the couch. Didn’t he own a single shirt with sleeves? She found herself spending quite a bit of time at the dance studio trying to refocus herself and avoid overthinking every single aspect of this. She knew the reason she didn’t tell Atem to leave during Yugi and her dates was because some part of her wanted him to stick around. However, she couldn’t figure out why Yugi would do the same.

She wasn’t even sure how they’d managed to get time alone without Atem involved at this point. At least, until one date a week before Christmas, when Yugi finally looked her dead in the eyes and said, “Is it just me or is Atem… really hot?” Anzu didn’t have to reply at that point: she was certain her blush told Yugi everything he needed to know. She wasn’t expecting to be called out like this, especially on a date that was going relatively well. “Oh, good. It’s not just me that wants to kiss him then.”

That was perhaps the worst time for Anzu to start taking a sip of soda. She started choking on it, instantly picturing Yugi actually kissing Atem. Her cheeks felt on fire and she looked away from Yugi as she tried to clean the soda that she’d accidentally spilled everywhere up with her napkin, only to accidentally knock her silverware to the ground. Fantastic job, Anzu, she thought to herself, peeking up over the table at Yugi, who seemed rather nonplussed by this reaction. “Er, no,” she finally managed to say, well aware she couldn’t possibly embarrass herself any more than she’d already had. “Though uh… I… it’s not just that I want to kiss him it’s… more like… I want him included with us?”

It was a bold statement that hung in the air before Yugi grinned. “Okay, good, so it’s not just me then,” Yugi said, looking slightly relived. “I was worried you’d think I was weird for mentioning it. Or worse, get mad at me over bringing it up.”

“Why would I get mad at you for bringing up how you’re feeling?”

Yugi shrugged. “I dunno. I mean… I never tell him off when he interrupts our dates and I thought that… maybe you might’ve been bothered by that?”

Oh, so he did notice that Anzu had been wondering why Yugi hadn’t intervened and told Atem that they were on a date whenever Atem interrupted their dates. She wondered if that meant that he noticed her noticeable flustered state any time Atem had wrapped his arms around the both of them. Once again, she felt the flush return to her cheeks and she secretly hoped he hadn’t noticed the amount her thoughts tended to stray around the two of them. Or maybe he had already noticed and that was why he was bringing it up now. “Uh, maybe a little,” she admitted, “but… not for the reasons you might think?”

Yugi leaned in closer across the table, reaching to take her hand in his. “Anzu,” Yugi said, slowly and as if carefully considering his words. “You can go ahead and shoot this down if you’d like but… I was thinking… that maybe we should consider inviting Atem to be part of our relationship proper.”

She didn’t want to look too eager. After all, she’d been trying so hard to establish that Yugi was enough for her. And he was, really. If Atem wasn’t interested in the idea, she could be very happy with Yugi alone. However, this was a chance to have her cake and eat it too. Of course, she wasn’t about to shoot down the idea of having both of her favorite men be in a relationship with her. And if Yugi liked Atem too… wasn’t that just a win for both of them, then? They’d both get what they wanted. Anzu could think of several cons to this idea but for once, she ignored that. “I think if we both like him,” Anzu said, as steady as she could, “then we should… at least ask him, right? Especially if he’s already always around, right?”

It was one of those things that was easier said than done. Neither of them knew how to best approach Atem with the idea and neither of them wanted to be the one to approach Atem with the idea. Finally, Anzu decided the best approach was just to actively let him come on their Christmas date and try to subtly hint at the idea to Atem. Yugi agreed that it was the best idea they had, which led to both of them trying very awkwardly to invite Atem on the date without making it too obvious what they were angling at. For whatever reason, Atem didn’t seem to immediately pick up on what they were both suggesting.

“Hang out with both of you on Christmas,” Atem had said, rather brightly. “That sounds like a great idea! What are we doing?”

Hopefully making out, Anzu thought before realizing that wasn’t exactly the best thing to say. No, this was definitely something that required a delicate hand. After all, both her and Yugi agreed that they didn’t want to come off too strong right off the bat. “Uh, well, we were thinking dinner…maybe a movie,” Anzu said, cautiously reaching out to put her hand on his shoulder. Admittedly, part of that was because she just wanted to actually touch him. “A gift exchange, since it’s Christmas.”

“Christmas,” Atem asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “What’s that?”

“Ah, don’t worry too much about it,” Yugi said brightly. “It’s a holiday where the only thing that matters is people feel obligated to give you gifts regardless if you celebrate it or not.”

Anzu was about to argue when she decided it ultimately wasn’t worth it. Besides, did she really want to spend a lengthy conversation discussing the reasoning behind Christmas when the option to spend it with Yugi and Atem was what was up for discussion? She decided she didn’t want to risk it. “Do I have to get you guys a gift?”

You are the gift, Anzu thought before blushing. “Uh, no, don’t feel obligated to get us a gift. The fact you’re alive is enough of a gift.”

“Speak for yourself, Anzu,” Yugi exclaimed, a look of annoyance passing his face as he was reminded of the fact that it was assumed that Atem was going to die. Anzu supposed Yugi did have a good reason to be upset by that, considering the fact that the Ceremonial Duel was a toll on Yugi to begin with. It had been a bit of a toll on her too, but she supposed it wasn’t fair to frame it like that. “I absolutely demand you get me a gift, other me. It’s the only way to make up for making me think you were going to die.”

“Be fair, Yugi,” Anzu lightly teased, noticing Atem’s uneasy look. Perhaps Atem still felt a little guilty about how everything went down? Which was strange because as far as Anzu was concerned, it wasn’t Atem’s fault. “Besides, I’m sure he’ll get you something nice. Right, Atem?”

Atem nodded, a determined look in his eyes. “You guys are gonna be blown away by how great of a gift giver I am.”

Anzu wished she was half as confident as Atem was about getting a gift. Now she felt the need to make sure she had something good for Atem. But what did one get a previously dead Pharaoh brought back to life by the power of the Gods? A “congrats on beating death” card? Maybe a couple of booster packs, since it seemed those made him fairly happy? She was certain Yugi would enjoy the rare board game she’d spent the better half of a month hunting down, but for Atem, she was absolutely flummoxed. At least, until she walked past a custom shirt kiosk at the mall and an idea came directly to mind of exactly what Atem would want.

She was still nervous come Christmas Day. Yugi, for his part, seemed completely relaxed. For once, it wasn’t an issue that Atem lived at the same place Yugi did. It made it easier to swap gifts immediately. Yugi and Anzu decided that Atem should open his gifts first and Anzu grinned when she’d realized she’d gotten it right: he loved the “Yugi Mutou’s #1 Fan” custom shirt that she’d gotten him. Yugi, however, groaned. “Did you really have to get him that,” Yugi asked, red faced.

“Partner, it’s perfect,” Atem had said, eager to change into it to the point where he immediately shucked off the shirt he was wearing. Anzu pointedly tried to pretend she wasn’t checking out Atem’s rather well-toned chest as he changed into the new shirt. “It lets everyone know that you’re the best!”

“I thought he might like it,” Anzu said, her voice a pitch higher than it normally was. She was well aware there was no hiding the flame-red cheeks that she currently had. “Be grateful I didn’t get him the Yugi Funko. It would match the one on my shelf.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Yugi groaned. “He’s got more than enough merch related to me as it is. I didn’t even know half the stuff he has existed nor who would want it outside of Atem.”

“Who cares who else would buy it,” Atem said, already unwrapping the gift Yugi had gotten him. Anzu was surprised to realize it was a keychain with Atem’s name written on it in kanji with what appeared to be a key to the Kame Game Shop. Atem’s eyes went wide as he gently lifted the keychain out of the box. “Oh! Partner…”

“I wanted to make sure you’d never forget your name again,” Yugi said, looking a little embarrassed. “Do you like it?”

Anzu could tell from the look on Atem’s face that he didn’t just like it. It seemed to have deeply touched Atem and Anzu couldn’t help but smile despite herself. The one thing she’d always liked about Yugi was just how thoughtful and generous he could be, and here she got to see the purest form of that in action. “I think he likes it,” she said softly, stepping in when it seemed like Atem had been rendered speechless. “Perhaps we should see what he got you?”

Yugi nodded and went to open his own gift from Atem, looking a little surprised when he discovered a Kuriboh plushie the size of his head inside the box. He lifted it out of the box, a raised brow. “Atem,” he said slowly, holding the plushie up and Anzu stifled a laugh. There was no way that it would fit anywhere in their room, and there was a good chance Atem had purchased this with the intention of it being for himself, considering how much Atem liked Kuriboh. “Where do you expect me to put this?”

“I was thinking the bed,” Atem said, an innocent look on his face. “It’s neat, isn’t it? Plus, look, Anzu likes it too.”

Anzu’s eyes went wide as Yugi looked at her with a slight look of betrayal, and she shook her head. “No, I just thought that it’s funny that it’s two feet tall and almost half your height,” she said, smacking her hand to her mouth as she realized that was not much better of a statement. “You’re adorable! Perfect cuddle height! Oh God, I’m so sorry, it’s just so funny.”

“Must you mock my height,” Yugi said with a faux pout on his face that changed when Anzu winked at him, gesturing to where his eyeline met. Yugi’s cheeks turned pink and instantly he switched topics. “I imagine you’re going to get more mileage out of this plushie Kuriboh than I am, Atem.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Atem said, much quicker than he should have. “That reminds me… Anzu, did you avoid the creepy old man breaking into your home last night?”

Instantly, Anzu was flummoxed as to what Atem could possibly be talking about. Judging by the look on Yugi’s face, she should absolutely approach this with caution. It seemed to be vitally important to Atem as he looked deeply concerned. “Uh,” she said, rather awkwardly. “I wasn’t aware there was a creepy old man to be worried about, but no creepy old men broke into my house last night.”

Atem nodded rather sagely. “You boarded up your fireplace too?”

The entire plot was lost with that and Anzu had no clue what Atem was talking about. She tried to figure out what he could possibly be talking about before realization sunk in. No, he couldn’t possibly be referring to… “Atem,” she said, rather cautiously. “Are you concerned that Santa Claus left gifts at my house last night?”

“The song says you better watch out,” Atem said, looking alarmed. “What if his gifts are actually evil? Why else would you have to watch out for this man? And why would he have to break in at the dead of night while everyone is asleep if he’s leaving good gifts? This entire man’s deal is fishy.”

“Atem,” she said gently, trying to figure out how to best explain Santa to someone who did not grow up with the concept. “Er, he’s trustworthy. He has a clean record for at least a thousand years. Surely if he was evil, it would’ve come up.”

“Oy vey, Santa isn’t real,” Yugi exclaimed, looking more than frustrated. “I’ve tried explaining this to Atem already! Santa’s not real! Christians made him up to sell more Christmas!”

“Actually, I think Santa Claus is based on Saint Nicholas,” Anzu said, well aware that statement would not help matters. At this point, she was more amused by the idea that Atem actively distrusted Santa Claus and part of her wanted to see if he would try to duel Santa. “I think Kaiba would know more about Santa if that’s the case, considering he’s Catholic.”

Instantly, Yugi got what Anzu was getting at. “Yeah, you should definitely ask Kaiba all about Santa Claus,” Yugi said, perking up. “In fact, you should also ask him about the Easter Bunny while you’re at it.”

Atem looked confused but nodded. “If Kaiba knows about this Santa fellow then I should ask him,” he said, slowly, frowning. “Who’s the Easter Bunny?”

Anzu smirked. “Critically important to knowing more about Santa,” Anzu said, concealing a laugh behind her hand. “Don’t let him tell you that either aren’t real. He knows more than he’s letting on.”

Atem nodded with a determined look in his eyes and Anzu almost wished her gift from Atem was getting to see the look on Kaiba’s face when Atem asked him about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. Somehow, they managed to make it through opening the rest of the gifts with little incident (Yugi had, of course, loved the gift Anzu had spent weeks hunting down) and managed to make their way to the restaurant that Yugi had booked reservations for weeks ago. It seemed that he’d forgotten, however, to switch the reservation to three, leading to them being rather squished in a booth together. Not the worst situation to be in, Anzu decided. In fact, as the night went on, the conversation never seemed to truly stop.

“I can’t believe you boarded up the fireplace,” Yugi complained as both Atem and Yugi were yanking the boards off the fireplace. “I told you: even if Santa was real, he wouldn’t stop here. We’re Jewish.”

“Better safe than sorry, partner,” Atem said, rather conversational as Anzu looked through the movies for them to watch. She had to admit this was going rather smoothly. Still, the nerve-racking conversation was up ahead. The one where Yugi and her would approach Atem with the idea of him being part of an actual relationship with them. “Couldn’t risk a break in. Right, Anzu?”

Anzu jumped slightly at the sudden address. “Perhaps you’re being just a little paranoid, Atem,” she said gently as both Atem and Yugi managed to finish taking the boards off the fireplace. Yugi started tossing the wood into the fireplace and got to work on starting up a fire. “I don’t think anyone’s ever actually been hurt by Santa.” It was not a natural break in conversation but Anzu had finally struck up the nerve and it truly was now or never. “Uh, unrelated but… Atem. Um, what did you think of spending the day with Yugi and I?”

“It was great,” Atem said with a giant grin on his face. “Hanging out with you guys is one of my favorite things to do!”

“So… Would you like to do so more often,” Yugi said, jumping in rather awkwardly with a blush appearing across his cheeks. Perhaps he was more nervous about this than Anzu previously thought. “Cause Anzu and I were thinking…that we both like being around you and…”

Atem seemed confused and instantly Anzu realized where they had lost him: at no point had either of them mentioned anything about dating. “Oh, for God’s sake,” Anzu said, knowing that it really was now or never. “Yugi and I are dating, and we want to date you too! As in, we both think you’re hot! We both want to kiss you! Are you down for that?”

Instantly, Anzu wished she could cram the words back into her mouth. So much for delicate. To her great surprise, Atem’s eyes widened, and then he immediately pressed a kiss right on Yugi’s mouth. Before she could even process what just happened, Atem suddenly pressed a kiss right to her mouth next. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Atem exclaimed, looking excited. “You guys are both really okay with this?”

Anzu was just a little too dizzy to answer, so it was Yugi who responded, nodding. “Glad this works out, then,” Yugi said brightly, grabbing the film Anzu had selected out of her hands to put it on. Atem, for his part, had pulled Anzu into a tight cuddle and thrown a blanket over the two of them as the fire started. Anzu found that she had very little to think about now as Yugi joined them, and she thought that it was so very nice to have everything work out just fine.

Perhaps it would always be in Anzu’s nature to overthink, but right now, with her two favorite men near her and fireplace roaring, Anzu found it very hard to care about the future at all. And there was definitely the pro that whatever one-bedroom apartment she picked out in New York City, she now had two other people to split the rent with. Sure, there was so much to think about in regard to the future and how this would work out but for once, Anzu pushed it to the side. She could enjoy that in this moment, she was blissfully happy.

#encourageshipping #revolutionshipping #peachshipping #encourageshipping fanfic #encourageshipping fanfiction #ygo fanfic #ygo fanfiction #healthy polyships #myfanfic

[fairfowl]

Dress For the Weather (ch 2/2)

It wasn’t really a surprise, he hadn't slept well since Ben had--How could you say a person had died when they had been technically dead for two decades?--Since Ben had disappeared? Gone into the light?

Left Klaus alone.

+-+-+-+

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours Klaus allowed himself to be led upstairs by Diego. They abandoned their snacks on the desk before Klaus sat on the bed, saying nothing as Diego wrapped the comforter around his shoulders like the mother hen that he was.

As his brother marched off to find the thermometer Klaus allowed himself to roll his eyes, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest as he realized that Ben was no longer around to comment on his brattiness.

He hunched into himself, scooting back to where the bed met the wall and curled up.

Earlier—when it had still been afternoon—Klaus had noticed something off. He’d been tired, even more so than usual, and achy. It wasn’t really a surprise, he hadn't slept well since Ben had-

How could you say a person had died when they had been technically dead for two decades?

Since Ben had disappeared? Gone into the light?

Left Klaus alone.

He knew it wasn’t fair to blame Ben for that. He’d had no obligation to stay, and in leaving he’d saved them all.

The comforter fell from his shoulders and Klaus made no effort to pick it back up. Sweat beaded at his temples and although the blanket had lent a feeling of security it had also added an oppressive heat that he could do without. Klaus curled up tighter, and stayed like that until he heard the return of Diego’s footsteps against the hardwood.

His head hurt.

With a slow exhale he leaned back until the back of his head hit the bedroom wall with an audible klunk. Outside the door Diego’s footsteps paused for a moment before the door opened and Klaus heard his brother enter the room.

“You okay?” He asked, awkward concern lacing his voice. Klaus was suddenly reminded of all of the times that Diego had seen him in withdrawal, and the times that he’d let him into his apartment high as a kite to feed him and make sure that he had somewhere warm to sleep.

“You know how you said I look terrible Di?” As he spoke Klaus uncurled, wincing at the dull ache that seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of his bones.

“Yeah?” Diego didn’t really sound as though he was paying attention to Klaus’s words as he moved towards his brother and pulled the blanket up to cover his bony shoulders again.

“I feel terrible. Like, Diego, my skeleton hurts.” 

It’s a dramatic statement, theatrical, but not inaccurate, and if Klaus’s voice had a little bit of whine to it he was grateful to Diego for choosing not to mention it.

Yet.

He probably wouldn’t be able to push his luck too far before Diego got frustrated and kicked him out.

Because of this looming possibility Klaus didn’t resist the comforter’s hot heavy weight across his back, and he opened his mouth obediently to take the offered glass thermometer without complaint.

“Keep that there and don’t move for a while.” Diego instructed.

Klaus merely nodded in response, dropping his eyes to the floor and resting them of the knife-marked hardwood and settled in to wait.

After a few moments of watching Klaus carefully Diego shrugged, pulling a cell phone from his pocket and fumbling a little before setting a timer. The phone was unfamiliar and Diego’s hands seemed too big for it. There was no case and the metal and glass glittered under the low light, marked by Diego’s fingerprints.

Klaus figured that he must have bought it sometime after their return. Most of them had stuck to the house, too shell shocked to do more than wander hollow-eyed around the academy, but none of them were locked in.

He and Allison had left that day for groceries, and Klaus assumed that Diego and Vanya had gone to their respective apartments at some point. Vanya’s room now held a duffle bag full of slacks and loose button-up shirts. Diego had a new cell phone.

Klaus couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take for Diego to get rid of it again.

As his brother lost himself to thought Diego produced an embroidery hoop from under the pillow and dropped into the desk chair a few feet away from the bed. Klaus watched as he crossed a leg and immediately set to work, untangling the thread that had become knotted to itself at some point in the project’s time hidden underneath the pillow.

The back of Klaus’s neck tickled as a bead of sweat ran down the heated skin. He twitched but didn’t move, didn’t open his mouth, didn’t push his luck. Diego had never been a cruel person—callous perhaps, no one in their family had ever had the chance to develop an appropriate view of the value of human life—but Klaus had exhausted his patience before, and tonight Klaus’s own bedroom was so very empty.

In the days since their return, nearly a week now, his room had remained so very empty.

Klaus had slept in fits and starts, on couches and armchairs throughout the academy, once curled up in his own wardrobe. He had left the door open, still too spooked by small spaces to tolerate the illusion of being locked in.

The most rest he’d gotten in a stretch had been when he had Vanya had settled into the sitting room and watched cartoons the night before. She’d sat with him for an entire afternoon and evening, only urging him up to his room well past midnight.

Klaus was grateful to her for the time she’d given him. Goodness knew that he hadn’t been the best company.

Three minutes passed over what felt like an eternity.

Diego cross-stitched, wordlessly pushing a thick needle through cotton cloth on his embroidery hoop. Klaus couldn’t tell what he was making, but the thread was a deep autumnal orange. It made him think of falling leaves and a particularly ugly sweatshirt he’d once owned.

Three minutes passed and Diego’s phone vibrated to remind them both of the reason for Klaus’s forced silence.

He grimaced as he drew the thermometer from Klaus’s mouth, reading the device before giving it a quick shake and laying it aside. Klaus closed his eyes, and listened to the clink of glass on the wood of Diego’s bedside table. It was the sort of sound that Vanya might have liked.

When they’d been children, Vanya had had a habit of listening to things and declaring whether or not she had liked the sound.

Klaus barely remembered their childhood.

A combination of trauma, substance abuse, and repeated head injury had all but erased everything but the starkest memories. There were a few things that stuck out in his mind, usually sounds and smells. Some emotions.

He remembered Reginald towering over him, gesturing violently with his cane as he yelled.

He remembered Vanya’s high pitched voice piping up after Luther had dropped a dumbbell on the hardwood floor, mentioning that she’d absolutely hated that noise. He remembered the smell of Ben’s books, and how he and Five had curled up together in the library to read together. He remembered trying and failing to hide behind Diego during training sessions, and Diego letting him.

“101.5” Diego interrupted, dragging his brother back into the present. “Not great bro.”

Klaus didn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes closed as he leaned back and klunked back against the wall.

“I’ve been worse.” He’d been much worse.

The final withdrawal, in his benefactor’s gorgeous private guest cottage, had been the worst. His heartbeat had skyrocketed and he’d locked himself in the bathroom as his familiar ghosts twisted and morphed in chemical induced delirium. Between the tachycardia and the sheer electrolyte imbalance he’d experienced Ben had told him that he was lucky his heart hadn’t given out.

Klaus wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t.

For all that he whined to Diego a run of the mill fever wasn’t really enough to shake him. If Ben had been with him they would have holed up in Klaus’s room and rode it out, only venturing out for water and the restroom.

But Ben wasn’t with him anymore.

Maybe Diego would let him stay. Klaus didn’t think he’d ever be ready to go back into his room and face the emptiness.

He wondered if he should go out and find someone to sleep with, either a partner or a one night stand to keep him company for however long they’d have him. He’d done so before, in order to keep a roof over his head, especially during the winter. Unfortunately partners usually found him grating and Klaus bored easily. He usually hadn’t stayed anywhere for more than a week or so.

Not until he met Dave. In all their time pressed in against each other in the thick humid jungle they hadn’t gotten tired of one another.

Klaus felt himself slide further down the wall, but made no move to push himself into a more comfortable position. He was too tired—and too inclined to be dramatic—to do anything but flop around pathetically.

Somewhere above him he heard Diego groan in exasperation.

That was all the warning that Klaus received before Diego grabbed him by the armpits and physically hoisted him into a more typical supine position. The movement hurt his shoulders but his neck felt better, if it hadn't been for the shock Klaus might have  called it a fair trade off. As it was he whined indignantly and pushed his face into the pillow.

“You’re so mean Diego.”

But he slept, and Diego stayed.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

It was light out when Klaus drifted back to consciousness, wrapped in Diego’s comforter and feeling like total garbage.

Everything ached, and he was cold . Colder than he should reasonably be, even after wandering around in the rain in early april.

He was withdrawal cold.

Midnight in January cold.

Skipping meals and failing to sleep for a week at a time after stopping the apocalypse cold.

And as if his body was adding insult to injury his throat hurt. The first thing that he did after sitting up in the bed was launch into a coughing fit that rocked his frame as he braced himself against the wall.

He wanted a hit.

A drink.

Something.

He’d already fallen head first off the wagon, flung into the metaphorical gutter by Dave’s fist. Throughout the entire apocalyptic disaster in the sixties he’d clung to a heavy flask, and even after getting through and getting back he’d poured himself back into a bottle.

The decision to just stop cold turkey had come when he’d been alone in his room the night after.

It had just been so empty. The ghosts had still been muted by the alcohol in his system and Ben was just gone.

As though he’d been dead since they were teenagers.

There wasn’t even a keepsake to hold onto to memorialize all those years they’d spent together. Klaus couldn’t clutch to his brother’s stupid black hoodie and cry it out, he had no dog tags from Ben.

Klaus wished that he did.

The only thing he had left from Ben was his memory, his brother’s voice constantly echoing in the back of his head; snarking, gossiping, urging him to stay clean.

Urging Klaus to be better.

And alone in his room—surrounded by hidden pills and razor blades and miniature bottles pushed into vents and stuffed animals, and the crevice beneath the boards of his wardrobe—Klaus had decided that he was going to be better.

For Ben.

But he didn’t feel better. Sleep had evaded him, food was incidental, he wandered the academy like a ghoul interacting with his siblings when they happened upon him. And now he was curled up on Diego’s bed as his body broke from being pushed too far. He wanted to be numb again.

He was coughing when Diego stomped into the room and immediately moved to steady Klaus, sitting beside him on the twin bed and wrapping an arm around his narrow shoulders. Klaus leaned into the touch, and slowed his breathing trying desperately not to irritate his throat.

Every cough made the burning sensation worse.

Klaus sat there, tensed against Diego’s chest until he felt something cold tap against his face. A bottle of water.

“Drink this.” Diego urged, handing him the bottle. It was freezing, and Klaus shivered, his fingers knocking beads of condensation loose to drip and sink into the duvet cover.

He drank anyway. The cool water felt good on his burning throat even as he shivered.

While he swallowed Klaus felt Diego cover him with the blanket yet again. Bless his brother’s stubborn heart.

“Thanks.” He said as he drew the comforter closer.

Diego nodded, looking awkward.

“What time is it?” Klaus asked, taking another draw from the bottle. Other than the daylight that streamed in through Diego’s open curtains Klaus had lost all sense of time. Exhaustion still pushed heavily upon him but it offered no real clue as to how long he had spelt.

“Around noon.” Diego replied. His expression concerned but otherwise impassive.

Klaus hummed into the bottle, pleased. It had been a long time since he’d slept for so long. If he’d dreamed he didn’t remember the nightmares, only the constant comfort of his brother’s presence.

A finished cross stitch lay flat on the bedside table. The deep orange thread had been pulled and poked until it formed an image of boxing gloves laying against the white cotton. Below the image Diego had stitched the words protect your own in blocky angular font.

It was fitting.

Diego had always been the first one to step up and defend his siblings.

“Thank you.” Klaus said. He was grateful to Diego, not only for taking care of him through the night, but for the years and years of dragging Klaus off of the streets into whatever safety Diego could provide. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever properly thanked his brother for that/

He doubted that a quick thanks while high off of his ass would count.

Diego looked at him expectantly and Klaus realized with a sinking feeling in his chest that he’d probably overstayed his welcome. Not even Diego could take care of him forever. He’d gotten through the night and that would have to be enough.

“Right.” Klaus said, capping the water bottle and standing shakily, holding to Diego’s shoulder as his brother rose with him. “Thanks”

Again.

“I’m gonna get out of your hair now, give you your room back etcetera.” Flippant mask firmly in place Klaus wobbled towards the door, feeling dizzy enough to have been drunk, and awful enough to be hungover. Diego looked like he wanted to argue but even unsteady as he was, Klaus was quick; he was out the door before his brother was able to stumble over his first syllable.

Internally Klaus winced, he hadn’t meant to upset Diego.

He barely made it back to his own bed before collapsing into the cold sheets. A few ghosts murmured in the shadows of the wardrobe, one stared at him from the window, pressing a hand to the glass as if she couldn’t pass right through it if she were so inclined.

With a groan Klaus rolled over and ignored them, content to accept their presence as long as they kept the noise to a minimum.

He shivered against the chilly bed linens and pulled the blanket up over his head, curling into the smallest ball he could manage. It was unlikely that he’d manage to go back to sleep, but Klaus wasn’t sure what else he could do. The long drafty halls of the academy carried his siblings voices from the common areas and he was sure that they all had better things to do than keep him company, he’d be no fun anyway.

As he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the chill and ache of his fever Klaus wondered what Ben would be saying to him now.

He’d probably call him self-destructive.

God he missed him.

A sudden sob shook his chest and Klaus was so stunned that it took a moment for him to realize that he was crying. He hadn’t cried since those first few hours after Ben had gone.

He’d sobbed through the car ride away from the CIA building as Vanya had explained what had happened from the passenger seat, and curled up in the dark of Elliot’s bedroom to bawl himself into exhaustion.

And then he’d stopped.

The world had been ending, the entirety of the Commission had shown up to exterminate his family, and Klaus hadn’t had time to lay around and cry.

But now Klaus was crying again.

He recalled his wish for a keepsake, for something to hold on to. Across the hallway from the bedroom where he currently laid was a room full of Ben’s possessions. A museum full of artifacts that had been left to gather dust for seventeen years.

He thought of sitting up, of standing and walking across the hall to Ben’s room, to find something, but his strength was gone.

Instead Klaus buried himself deeper into the blankets and allowed himself to weep.

#klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #ben hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #tua #tua fanfic #ouchie #klaus abuse #klaus whump #my fic #original #i contributed

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New On the Job

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Five: The Morning After

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n was job searching, looking for a new place to work as an escape to her, then, current job; she’d been denied every pitch she had, yet she worked her ass off with zero recognition. Writing was her passion and her dream job laid in the hands of a magazine company in the city. Will the combination of her sexual frustration and her competitive nature cause her to risk her biggest dream for a blue eyed coworker?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this was late compared to my daily uploading, I’ve been very busy these past few days!

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here!

I opened my eyes to my dark bedroom. The darkness of dawn leaked through my curtains, reminding me of the misery that was Monday. I hadn’t slept well that night, too many butterflies in my stomach disrupting my slumber. George’s head rested on my chest, his cheek in contact with my revealed skin. He’d been restless, switching into many positions that night, but as soon as his head hit my chest and his arms slung around me, he didn't move a single muscle. I brushed my fingers through his hair, twirling around some strands. I heard him release a deep breath, before cuddling his head further into my chest as if it were a pillow. He reminded me of a child cuddling their mother after a nightmare in this moment, and I was grateful I was able to see another side of him, an innocent and youthful side to him.

I felt his fingers drum against my sides, notifying me that he was awake. I smiled, removing my fingers from his scalp.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled against my chest, his voice soft and raspy.

My cheeks flushed as I brought my fingers back to his scalp, earning a delightful moan from him. My eyes widened at the noise, my mind immediately swimming in filthy thoughts, but I quickly forced them away, because it was certainly not the time for intimacy; he needed a friend to be there for him, and I was that friend.  

We laid there for a while in silence, my fingers tangling and untangling themselves in his locks, as I felt his warm breath against the skin of my chest. After these moments of bliss, my alarm on my phone went off, causing me to jump at the sudden interruption. I quickly grabbed my phone and turned the damned thing off, tossing it on the floor without a single worry. I quickly returned my fingers to his hair, as if nothing had interrupted our moment.

“As much as it hurts me to say this,” he spoke up, his raspy voice introducing itself to me again. “You need to go to work today, love.”

I groaned, watching as my fingers worked through the effortless blond waves.

“What if I just don’t go?” I suggested, my voice dry with exhaustion.

He lifted his head, turning it toward me as his chin rested on my chest, his eyes looking up at me. His lip had already started scabbing over, and his black eye looked more violet today, signifying that his face was beginning to heal. With his messy hair, his eyelids swollen with sleep, and his eyes looking up at me so innocently, my heart practically jumped out of my chest.

“Love,” he cautioned, his eyebrows knitting together.

My cheeks caught on fire at the way the word rolled off his lips so naturally, yet intimately. Love. I repeated it over and over in my head. I subconsciously pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I stared down at him, absorbing his features as long as I could. I sighed, ending the moment, and removing my fingers from his hair.

“I need to, uhm, get ready,” I stammered, looking down at him.

He rolled himself off of me, reminding me of what it felt like without the weight of a six foot tall man sprawled on top me. I stood up from the mattress, stretching my body–moaning a little too loudly while doing so–and walking toward my bedroom door. I turned around, watching as George stayed in my bed with his hands behind his head, observing me.

“Do you want coffee or breakfast?” I offered, as he stared back at me.

“Are you going to cook me breakfast?” he joked, cracking a grin.

I rolled my eyes at the man.

“Coffee, it is,” I called, exiting the bedroom, biting back the smile that threatened to make its way onto my lips.

I started the pot, leaning on the counter as I waited for the machine to spew the liquid. I heard footsteps, making me turn around. Bree yawned, her mouth mimicking a lion’s roar. I smiled at her blond hair sticking out in multiple directions, her morning frown greeting me as she got her favorite mug out of the cabinet.

“Can you get two mugs out for me?” I asked her mindlessly, my eyes focusing back on the coffee machine.

“Two? You mean, on–” she stopped herself, her head whipping to me with wide eyes.

I looked back at her expression, visibly trying to hide my smile, as her jaw dropped to the floor.

Is George in your bedroom? she mouthed to me, her hazel eyes as big as could be.

I nodded slowly, causing her to jump up and down, looking as happy as I’d ever seen her in the morning. She realized what she was doing, before pouring herself a mug of coffee and quietly slipping back into her bedroom, mouthing a sorry. I rolled my eyes playfully at the girl, pouring two mugs of my own.

“How do you take your coffee?” I called to the boy, as I opened the refrigerator to retrieve the creamer for myself.

“Black,” he answered, surprising me with the closeness of his voice.

I turned around, watching as he pulled a seat out for himself at the small kitchen table, before sitting himself down. I handed him the steaming mug, before adding cream and sugar to my own. Closing the refrigerator with my foot, I took a seat next to him and sipped on the hot morning bliss, ignoring how it burnt my tongue.

“Dean and I called out of work yesterday,” he spoke up. “We’re hoping to see if we can convince Andrew to go to rehab.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, worrying that his plan might cause a repeat of what’d happened the night before.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I proposed.

He nodded, taking another sip from his mug.

“Dean's there right now. He said that they’ve put him under some medications that’ll hold him off for a while.”

I reached my hand out, gently resting it on his shoulder as I looked at him with concern.

“I just want you to be okay,” I admitted, my eyes scanning over the bruised eye.

He put his hand over mine with a small smile, his eyes softening.

“Thank you, love. I mean it.”

The sounds of footsteps interrupted us, as Bree walked toward the refrigerator with a sheepish smile.

“I forgot cream,” she apologized.

I rolled my eyes at her, gesturing out toward the small blond girl.

“George, this is my roommate, Bree. Bree this is my, uhm...”

What was he? 

“Coworker,” George corrected, reaching his hand up to form a small wave to the girl. 

Was that all he thought he was to me? A coworker? My roommate and I exchanged anxious eyes, as if we were both thinking the same thing.

“I’m the guy that gave Y/n a place to crash that night at the bar,” he introduced, his tone sounding...almost, protective. 

Bree scratched the back of her neck, still feeling guilty.

“Yeah, thank you for that, by the way,” she looked at him sincerely. “I’m still upset with myself for doing that to her.”

I looked at her, shaking my head.

“It’s fine, I already told you,” I insisted, bringing my mug up to my lips and gulping the energizing liquid. I wrapped my hands around the mug before standing up from the chair. “I should probably go take a shower,” I announced.

“I should probably get going as well, I need to clean myself up and meet Dean at the hospital,” George informed me, standing up from his chair as well. 

“Do you need a ride?” I offered.

He shook his head.

“Nah, I drove here. Hopefully my car’s still outside, if it hasn't gotten towed yet,” he joked.

I nodded, making my way to my bedroom to grab the pool of clothes that sat on my floor, before he’d changed into the comfier fabrics. I returned back to the kitchen, holding them out with his shoes. 

“Don’t want to forget these,” I reminded him.

He nodded, taking the clothes and making his way to the door. I followed him quickly, catching his attention.

“Can I, uh, walk you to your car?” I asked sheepishly, chewing on my lip.

He cracked a small smile, nodding. We silently made our way down the stairs, just like we had when I led him to the apartment earlier; there were no sounds, except for the echoes of our footsteps. We walked outside, the cold air surprising my warm skin as I hissed. His car had been still parked against the sidewalk, a little further down from where I’d found him sitting the night before. Once we reached his car, he turned toward me.

“Thank you,” he told me sincerely. “You took very well care of me last night, when you had absolutely no reasoning to.”

I shrugged. “I owed you one.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, as he looked down at me with a concerned expression.

“Is that the only reason why you took care of me last night, no questions asked? Because you owed me a favor?” he interrogated.

I was shocked at his question, my cheeks heating up and my eyes widening in surprise. I looked up at him, chewing on the skin of my bottom lip before answering. What is the point of lying again, I asked myself. 

“I took care of you, because I wanted to,” I admitted. “When I saw the texts you sent me last night, I was so worried, I literally got my slippers on and ran out of the building as quickly as I could to find you.”

His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes softened, as he looked at me with admiration. 

“Y/n, I don’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing to me,” he confessed. 

I tilted my head in confusion, but he gave no further explanation. 

“Go knock ‘em dead at work. Text me at lunch?”

I blushed at his words of encouragement and the fact that he wanted me to text him on my lunch break. 

“Of course,” I promised him.

He reached for my hand, pressing his lips to the skin, before releasing it and entering the driver’s seat of his car. My body was frozen, completely paralyzed at the feeling of his lips against the back of my hand. He drove away, sending me a wink as he passed. And I stood there, on the pavement, looking like an idiot. I don’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing to me, what the hell did that mean?!

I was almost late to work, because of that man. But, I arrived just on time, staring across from me at the empty desk. I sighed, forcing my attention on the document of my pitch, memorizing what I’d say to Connie when the time came. I looked at the new articles that’d already come out that morning, reading for my own entertainment to pass the time before the meeting. 

Once the inevitable hour passed, I made my way toward the conference room, this time without my brunette pal as my guide. Luckily, I was able to find the room, and I sat myself down next to Faith. She greeted me with a small smile, as I reciprocated her action and stared at the entrance of the room with anticipation. As more workers piled in, Connie stifled in with her assistant, making the butterflies in my stomach much more existent. 

“Happy Monday everyone,” she greeted us, her voice monotone. 

Starting with the beauty and fashion editors like the last time, my anticipation was building more and more as she discussed along the tables of the writers and editors. As soon as her head turned towards me, my heart practically sank to my stomach, her emerald eyes intimidating me.

“Print journalists? How about we start with you, Y/n,” she announced.

I cleared my throat anxiously before speaking.

“I was thinking about conducting an experiment with CBD oil, since that’s such a trendy product right now in the media, and I could write about it,” I explained, trying to exude as much confidence as I could under her stare.

She nodded after I spoke.

“That’s a nice idea, I’m surprised no one��s come up with that yet,” she admitted. “Try to work with a sub-editor on this, come up with some deadlines, and email me after. Anyone else?”

I smiled proudly at how well that’d gone. I looked forward to telling George about my succession on lunch, as the meeting flew by. Once I’d gotten back to my desk, I emailed Dean as soon as my fingers hit the keyboard.

Dean, Hopefully you have your email on your phone, because if not, then I’ll have to find another sub-editor that I actually like. Anyway, I have this idea for an article and I need your help to discuss deadlines and all that. Email me back when you get this... or actually I’ll see you if you don’t see this until you’re back in the office.  Thanks. Y/n

I sent the email, keeping the tab open in case he’d respond. I began opening a document and writing an introduction/hypothesis to the experiment. I clicked back on the email tab, sighing in relief as I saw a notification from him.

Hi. Wifi’s shit where I am, so this might not send. What’s the experiment? What did Connie say about it? Also, you don’t need to be so proper sending emails to me. We sent memes to each other, remember?

I laughed, recalling the memory when he’d asked me for my email on my first day. I typed back immediately.

Message has been sent to me, though you’ve probably already figured that out by now. Experiment’s about trying CBD oil for the first time. Yes, I’m a millennial, how could you tell? Connie liked it, she said I should work closely with a sub-editor and email her all the details once we've finished coming up with deadlines. 

I waited for him to respond, going back to writing again. After a few minutes, I received the notification.

Lol. I'm glad everything went well with Connie. Do you think four days would be a realistic deadline? Maybe take two days to write and research while doing the experiment, then two days for me to edit it and work with the art team for designs for the article? We can come up with a word count later. I’ll be in the office tomorrow and we can discuss this further. Just email Connie the main things and try to pick up and try that cdb or whatever shit up today. Srry if this sounds rushed, I’m a little busy right now.

I felt bad for intruding on Dean, as he was probably taking care of his friend.

I’m sorry for intruding on your day, just do what you have to do and we’ll work on this tomorrow. Thank you for everything you were able to help me with.

I emailed Connie right away before starting my research. I took important notes, cited some quotes to important articles online, and included some of my own pre-knowledge as well. I, then, looked at some of the best CBD products on Amazon, before settling on a roll-on oil and ordering it to the apartment, paying extra for a one-day delivery. 

Once lunch had rolled around, I made a salad in the small cafeteria and ate at my desk, pulling my phone out while I ate.

Me: Had a pitch today, it went sooo well. How are things with you?

He responded almost instantly.

George: That’s fantastic, Y/n! We’re at a rehabilitation facility, staying here while Andrew gets checked in. After this, probably going to go out and buy some groceries for dinner, maybe get some more ingredients for a recipe I can teach you.

Me: I would love that! Would tonight work?

George: As long as it does for you x

George: I slept amazing last night, even in that tiny bed of yours. 

Me: You make it sound like I sleep on a twin mattress.

George: A full is almost like a twin, right?

George: Did you like my big bed better?

Me: Considering I don’t even remember sleeping in it, I’m not sure. Remember, I woke up in that bed with absolutely no recollection of that night whatsoever. 

George: You would love my mattress, it’d practically swallow you up.

You know what else I’d like to swallow me up... Stop it Y/n!

Me: Are you sure you’re okay? With the whole Andrew thing going on...

George: Being with you helps get my mind off of it, so I think tonight is a good idea. I can’t necessarily say I’m okay right now, but I will be. He realized that he has to get better, and he’s finally taking the step to do that, and that’s already much more progress.

Me: Okay... If I can at least take your mind off of things, then let’s make dinner a definite tonight. I’m here for you, George, however you need me.

Did that sound too vulnerable? I wasn’t sure, but the more time George and I spent together, the less I cared about taking risks. 

George: That means more to me than you’ll ever know, love. 

When I got home from work, I took a shower to freshen myself up–despite having already taken one in the morning–before dressing myself in a tight turtleneck top with high wasted jeans and a pair of my favorite heeled leather booties. I styled my hair in waves before leaving the house and, finally, receiving a text from George with his address. As I drove with anticipation, I wondered what he was wearing, and maybe I’d overdressed myself. As I approached the familiar apartment, I parked my car behind the building before letting him know I was there.

He welcomed me within minutes, leading me up to his apartment. He was dressed in jeans and a maroon sweater, the color going well with his skin tone and hair. I wondered what would happen that night, as we entered his cozy, yet luxurious apartment. 

But, I had no idea what that night had in store for me.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader fic #fanfic #fanfics #1917 cast #1917 #dean charles chapman