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#porridge plate
culinaryplating · 6 months
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Maple Blueberry Oatmeal Porridge
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tarynandre · 2 years
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Made green plantain porridge.
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mayday396 · 1 year
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Anyone... just DON'T like Fine dining?Like no I just want my food to taste nice that's all, I don't need Jelly shaped like Goldfish or a piece of meat with a Splatter of Sauce as decoration.
You eat food to satisfy your Cravings and fill your Stomach, I have been to enough Western Fine Dining to the point that it just doesn't, like why?
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clockwayswrites · 2 months
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Like Betta Fish Do- Final Part
WC: 3359, Masterpost
“The response to the article has been great— better even than we had predicted,” Tim informed the various family members as he joined them at the breakfast table, tablet in hand.
Jason glanced up from his porridge to look his little brother over. The eye bags were a little dark, but not to the point of concerning yet, at least not on Tim. Still… “You weren’t up all night running numbers, were you?”
“I slept, I just woke up early.” Tim said defensively. “Besides, it’s best to get data like this when it’s new. It allows me to compare the first reaction to the long term response and see if there are any shifts.”
“Good data gathering is important,” Jazz agreed, “but so is taking care of yourself.”
She set the bowl of porridge that she had just finished adding toppings to in front of Tim and blatantly stuck a spoon in his hand. Tim blinked down at the food for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite. Cass, smiling in amusement, handed Jazz a fresh bowl.
“Best news is,” Tim continued after he had swallowed, “that everyone thinks Danny is, and I quote, a ‘Beautiful Cinnamon Roll Too Good For This World, Too Pure’. I mean, that’s not really a new opinion, but the new article really cemented it.”
“I don’t know how to take that,” Danny said after a pause.
“I mean, I’d just be glad to not be a poor little meow meow,” Duke said as he leaned over to look at Tim’s screen.
“The big change,” Tim continued and tilted his screen for Duke to see better, “is that public opinion of Jason has recovered. It was always solid in Gotham, we get it here, but outside of Gotham people were really having some issues with how quickly Jason pressed the button. Danny going on record to say that he asked Jason to press it— that he knew that’s what he was saying— has made a real difference.”
That was good news, but something about the way that Tim was presenting it made Jason tense and he had to purposefully relax his grip around his spoon. “What’s the bad news?”
Tim glanced over at Jason for a moment before looking back down at his tablet. The way he chewed on his lip pretty much assured there was bad news.
“Tim,” Jason pleaded. He got they were all trying to protect them while Danny was still recovering, but he needed to know, “just tell me. I’d rather hear it here from you than out there on the street.”
“There’s a small, and I mean really small, group that claims we made Danny say those things,” Tim explained with a grimace. “It got dug up that Danny’s on a Wayne Inventors’ Scholarship. They’re saying that we threatened to pull the scholarship if he didn’t clear Jason.”
Maybe it was best just to set the spoon down before he bent it in half.
“We don’t publish those names,” Bruce commented, a heavy frown in place as he joined the breakfast table, own tablet in hand.
Tim nodded. “I know.”
“I’ll look into who at the school may have leaked that information.”
“I mean, it could have just been a classmate?” Danny pointed out. “It’s not like I’ve gone around shouting it to the heavens or anything, but, like, I haven’t kept it a secret how I ended up suddenly mid degree in the program.”
“It could have been,” Bruce acquiesced, “but it still bears looking into. Even if nothing comes of it, reminding the school of how they’re bound by FERPA hardly hurts, not with you returning to classes in a week.”
“Yeah that’s going to be… yeah,” Danny said with a sigh.
Jason leaned over to wrap his arm around Danny’s shoulder and brush a kiss against his temple.
“I’ve got to leave in a few days too,” Jazz said apologetically.
Danny nodded and leaned further into Jason. “You’ll be careful?”
“I will.”
“She will also have assistance in that matter,” Alfred said. The clink of the fresh plate of hot cross buns was a firm period on his declaration.
“That’s a sweet thought,” Jazz managed after a moment, “but I do live in a different state.”
“That is hardly an issue, Miss Jasmine. Master Richard will accompany you for the first week to simply make sure that everything is both secure and calm. When he is certain you will be well, he can make his way back easily enough,” Alfred explained. When Jazz opened her mouth to protest, Alfred held up a staying hand. “Miss Jasmine, I assure you it is not a hardship. You are family now and we very much look after our family. It would do all of us well to know that you are safe and sound.”
“Yes, family now,” Cass agreed as she made a grabbing motion at the plate until Tim passed her one of the buns.
“I, well…” A faint blush spread across Jazz’s cheeks. “I guess if it wouldn’t be a problem? And if you’re okay sleeping on the couch, Dick? We’ve only got one actual bedroom in the place, we use the other as an office for us both.”
“Hey, a couch isn’t the worst place I’ve slept by a long run,” Dick chirped. “But if you’re feeling guilty, I’ll taking getting to pick the tunes on the drive.”
“Don’t do it,” Jason said, an attempt to save Jazz that hell. “Seriously, not worth giving him that power. His music tastes are atrocious.”
Dick pouted. “They’re fabulous.”
“No, Jason’s right on this one,” Tim said.
“If Drake is agreeing with Todd, I am afraid that one has to accept there is some truth in the statement,” Damian interjected.
“Baby bat, no,” Dick whined.
From the look he aimed Dick, Damian was unmoved by the plea. “While you have a great many skills, Grayson—”
“Thank you.”
“—your taste in music, fashion, and other matters of culture is not one of those skills.”
“I’m wounded. You wounded me Damian, my baby bat, so cruel… so callous,” Dick said as he basically melted down into his chair.
“Keep up such antics and you will have a true wound to worry about, Grayson,” Damian said with a sniff.
Jason chuckled. “Ah, it’s not breakfast at the Manor without a threat of violence.”
Duke leaned around Tim to look at Jazz. “You still have time to run, Jazz, you don’t have to be part of this family. You can still get out.”
“Hum, I don’t know. Give me a Creep Stick—”
Multiple people looked at Danny and mouthed ‘creep stick?’.
“—and I think I can manage. Besides, none of the food has come back to life yet so it’s a better breakfast than I had most of my childhood.”
In the following silence, Bruce very carefully set his tablet down and folded his hands on top of it. “Food that came back to life?”
“Lab safety was just sort of an ignored suggestion in our childhood home,” Danny said.
“They kept samples in the fridge,” Jazz continued. “It sometimes had… unexpected results.”
“I don’t know, I think after the tenth time the hotdogs come ‘alive’ it’s an expected result,” Danny argued dryly.
“Good heavens,” Alfred declared softly. “And… the Dr. Fentons did nothing?”
Danny just shrugged. “I ate at school or out with my friends a lot.”
“No wonder you’re so pint sized,” Dick cooed.
“Hey!”
“You are, fish. Just a little guppy,” Jason teased. When Danny grumbled, Jason only pulled him closer.
“It really was just the way things were,” Jazz said, apparently still trying to soothe the table. “We know it’s not normal now, but that was just life at the time. It almost made more sense when there were actual ghosts around haunting Amity Park— and I don’t just mean Danny.”
“Boo.”
“Oh, yeah! You still haven’t shown us your ghost form,” Steph pointed out.
“But only if you’re up for it, dude, like… physically and emotionally,” Duke cut in quickly. “You don’t have to show us if you don’t want to.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I mean, it was strange showing Jason the first time— showing someone who knew me as Danny first,” Danny said, “but, like, there are times when I want to be in that form. I even get restless if I go too long without changing over.”
“Or sometimes he just needs something off the top shel-oof,” Jason winced as Danny elbowed him hard. “Hey, I’m just speaking the truth here.”
“You’re the one who used me instead of a step stool to hang cameras,” Danny said with a perfectly sweet smile. “But anyways, yeah, it’s no issue to show you all! You might want to cover your eyes though, it’s a bit bright.”
“Bright?” Dick asked, right as Danny transformed.
It served him right if he was left blinking away spots.
“Oh wow, your lights are totally different like this,” Duke said, leaning forward to peer at Danny.
Danny peered back. “Lights?”
“Oh, sorry, I’m a meta, I see… like, after images of stuff, kinda You’re all sorts of wild like this,” Duke said, waving a hand at Danny.
“And inverted,” Tim pointed out.
“Oh, yeah, it seems to be a thing with halfas? Like, I was wearing a white with black hazmat suit when I died and the inverted version was what my ghost form was in for ages. I’ve learned to make changes to it since, but it’s easier to stay close to that original form.”
“Easier, how?” Bruce asked. He was clearly brimming with questions now that Danny was talking about ghostly matters, but he was obviously trying not to ask everything at once.
Tim didn’t seem much better in his eagerness.
“Oh, hum, there’s this resistance? Think of it like trying to pull apart two things that have been glued together. If you have the right solvent or heat or tools you can do it, but you have to have that and you still risk damage if you don’t go carefully. So small changes are easier. Also what um, role I’m in changes things.”
“Fascinating,” Bruce murmured.
“Wait, hold up,” Dick interrupted before Bruce could ask a follow up. “If you’re a halfa and Jason is a halfa, does this mean that Jason has a ghost form too?”
Jason had to resist pushing his chair back as all eyes spun to him. Sure this was his family, but that single minded Bat focus was still intimidating.
Cass tilted her head. “Like Duke said, only if up for it.”
“It’s just, I haven’t… transformed yet,” Jason said. He tried for a casual shrug and felt like he had missed by a mile. “We had to wait for my core and everything to form first.”
“But you could transform now?” Tim asked curiously.
Jason glanced at Danny.
“I think you could,” Danny said. He was floating a little above his chair now. Casually, as if it was odd, he crossed his legs and leaned forward onto them. “Your core is strong. You aren’t having the power issues I did, but you aren’t trying to go through this when a teen either. Question mostly is if you’re ready to try.”
Did he want to try?
Jason didn’t know. Part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted to be able to experience this aspect of being that Danny experienced— to experience it with Danny. Another part of Jason was still afraid. It still felt like the final period on everything that had happened with the Joker all of those years ago.
But maybe it was time to put that period on it.
Maybe it was time to let go.
Maybe it was time to live.
“I’d… I’d like to try.” At least if the worst happened he’d have his family here with him. One of them would be able to talk him down from a panic if he came back as Robin.
“After breakfast, Master Jason,” Alfred said firmly.
“Yes Alfie.”
-
“So… how does this work?” Dick asked.
They were gathered in the gym— originally a room converted for Dick’s gymnastics and since expanded to have various workout gear— on the bright blue mats. Danny was still in his ghost form and drifted in a lazy circle around the group. Jason and Jazz paid him no mind, but Duke and Steph kept glancing at the ghost.
“Well, I mean, when I was a teen I had to say a catchphrase and everything, but I was a lot more in flux at that age so it was all harder. Now it’s much more like just… taking a breath and jumping.”
“Yeah, fish, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific than that,” Jason drawled, his attitude a thin veil over his nerves.
Danny stopped, hovered in front of Jason, and gave him a chaste kiss. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered.
Jason gave a terse little nod.
“Really,” Danny continued, “you’ll be okay. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.”
Breathing slowly through his nose, Jason focused on the feeling of Danny’s cold fingers against his cheeks.
“Now feel for your core. Think of what we saw with Frostbite— the fire, the ash, the movement of it. The light of it. Think about how warm it is there under your sternum. Even in this form, it’s part of you.”
Jason let out a breath slowly, feeling his chest fall with it. He focused on that warmth that nestled itself just under skin and bone. He thought about how it had looked in his hands, destructive but full of the promise of life.
“Keep a focus on your core, but think about how it feels to fly through the air as Red Hood. Think about that moment when you’re at the height of a swing and gravity doesn’t seem to matter. Now let go of all of that and fall. Your core will catch you. I’ll catch you.”
Jason gasped. His knees went out under him. He couldn’t breathe.
No…
He didn’t need to breathe. There simply wasn’t that demand on his body. Everything was just… calm. Static. Still. And he felt so warm. He hadn’t been this warm since before he had died only to wake up cold and alone in his own grave.
Jason looked down at his own hands. They were a dark ashen grey and when he flexed them, soot flaked off and scattered. The bat symbol— his bat symbol— glowed molten orange on his chest. He wasn’t in his Robin costume.
His knees felt weak for a second time, but he still didn’t fall. He looked up into Danny’s fanged grin. The other was holding him up by the elbows. Danny had caught him, just like he promised.
Danny's slow grin only uncurled further. “Hey there, hot stuff.”
Jason let his head fall back as he groaned at the joke.
“Nope, you’ve gotta deal with my puns because wow you really took the whole lava core thing to heart, didn’t you?” Danny said, looking Jason over. “Not that you aren’t totally rocking the look.”
“Really?” Jason asked. It was odd to hear his own voice come out modified from the black mask, deep but without the mechanical edge his Red Hood mask did. Steam escaped from the mask at the filters, swirling up into the still air.
“Payback for months of fish jokes,” Danny said and met the glowing red eyes without an ounce of shame. He drew his hands back along Jason’s arms from where he was holding onto his elbows. Jason could feel cold run along his arms and he held back a shiver. “You good to stand?”
Jason nodded. He felt fine now, weird, but fine. “Yeah, I am. Just… this is a lot different.”
“I know,” Danny said easily and a little sadly. He squeezed Jason’s wrists before letting go and drifting back. Without warning, he plunged his hand into his chest to find his Tucker™ phone.
“What the fuck,” Steph whispered from the sidelines.
“Hey, it’s an easy way not to lose things,” Danny said, “and you need a special phone to be able to handle stuff in the ghost zone so I just keep it on me.”
“In you.”
“Same diff,” Danny said with a shrug. He floated back enough to get all of Jason in the frame and snap a photo.
Jason took the phone carefully as it was passed over to him. That was him. He didn’t know what to think of it all yet, but that was him— as much him as Jason or Red Hood were him. This form certainly drew from his current Red Hood uniform, there was no question of that, not with the face mask and hood, but the coat was longer. The end of the coat ended mid thigh in drips and drops of bright red lava that turned to rick black ash and drifted away. The drips gave a clue to the make up of the rest of the coat, an oddly, roughly iridescent black that glowed bright on edges and seems. Inside the hood was almost blindingly bright.
“It’s definitely a look,” Tim said.
“I like it,” Steph interrupted. “You’re going to make the bad guys shit themselves.”
“Miss Stephenie,” Alfred sighed.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it!” Tim grumbled. “I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so… otherworldly after Danny’s form.”
Danny shrugged and tucked himself into Jason’s side. The coat sizzled where Danny touched it. “I’m really the odd ghost out. Most of them are much more dramatic and themed to their obsession or core.”
“I think it is impractical. There will be no ambushing anyone when you glow in such a manner,” Damian sniffed.
“Jason’s ghost form isn’t for taking on criminals, Damian,” Bruce said. Jason knew B was thinking it through though from the slightly constipated look on his face.
“I guess with that coat you could totally say that look is dripping,” Duke said and then reached over to high five Dick as Cass signed ‘fire’ dramatically.
“This is your fault,” Jason let Danny know, “the puns.”
“They were like this when I got here,” Danny said, repentantly. “Come on though, open up.”
“Open up?”
“Your mask,” Danny said, tapping on the hard black surface. “I bet you can retract it. Just think about it pulling back and tucking away.”
Jason frowned under the mask but Danny was right before, so he took a breath and tried to picture the mask collapsing on itself and pulling back behind his neck.
The air of the room felt cold on his face.
“Oh, wow, your hair’s inverted,” Dick said, “just like Danny thought it would be. That’s almost more wild than the outfit.”
Jason reached up self consciously to tug at what must now be a black lock only for Danny to catch his hand and kiss it lightly.
“There you are. It took me a long time, but I finally found you,” Danny said.
“Found me?”
Danny gave a little hum. “Yep. Found that ghost whose haunt I crashed into all that time ago. Who would have thought I’d go from being worried about how angry your haunt felt to actually getting to know you like this— getting to know all of you. Getting to see you.”
Danny drifted up just a little more, just enough to press their lips together into a kiss. Icy cold met magma hot and Jason closed his eyes to sounds of cat calls and ‘steamy’. His siblings might be damn annoying, but they weren’t wrong, the kiss was literally steaming.
“Careful or you’ll be smoked salmon before you know it, fish.”
“I don’t know, I think I’d put up with it for you. You know why? Because I lava you,” Danny said with a cackle of laughter.
Jason rolled his eyes, but pulled Danny into another kiss. He had better get used to the puns, he supposed, but somehow he thought he would manage. He thought he would manage because he was no longer just a dead boy, because he had his family around him supporting him, because he also loved Danny. They had not only their afterlives, but their whole lives ahead of them.
And Jason… Jason was determined to live.
---
AN: And here we are... done! I hope you all enjoyed every moment of this fish's adventure, the love he found, and the life he helped give back! It was a journey for sure, and it took me longer than I expected, but I am ever so grateful for you all being along for it! I'll update ao3 tomorrow!
Stay delightful, darlings!
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losergirl555 · 24 days
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my last post had a completely different tone but also..
i love this.
i love being hungry, being nauseous, being dizzy. i love fasting, i love feeling empty feeling lighter feeling euphoric. i love wearing big clothes i love body checking… i love eating half a portion and still feeling full and feeling satisfied… i love the dream of hitting my GW bc i know ill get there and when i do i’ll still be eating like skinny girls do. i love appreciating foods i used to think were gross like porridge, frozen veggies, even just apples. when i eat an apple i literally feel so full and happy. i can’t believe i used to eat entire sandwiches or burgers or plates of pasta and not even feel that happy. i love eating out of small bowls, i love drinking black coffee, i love when i plan to eat at 6 but wait until 8 and then feel too full to eat anything else. i love feeling super human. i love faking that im not sick, i love the compliments. i love looking sick but still pretty, i love being sallow and broken with bruises and raccoon eyes and never being seen eating because i only do it alone. i love that people hate me because i lost weight. i love that people love me for it.
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seoliee · 2 months
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Married with the LaD Men
Yeah I can't think of a title for this one.
These are just my headcanons on what they would be like as a partner for life. Enjoy!
Oh and no Caleb in this one. Sorry :<
Have you ever wondered what it's like being married to them?
Word Count: 1.5k words
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— XAVIER : Adorably Clumsy
• Xavier just got back from a 3 day mission when he was stopped by Captain Jenna herself. At first he thought that perhaps she's about to give him another mission and was ready to decline it, but the thought was quickly demolished when she informed him that you had gotten sick and ordered to stay at home since a day ago.
• Xavier who accidentally slams the bedroom door open and woken you up from your peaceful slumber. You wanted to smack him, but was unable to do so as your body was still far too weak.
• Xavier who gazed down at you with worry, placing a kiss on your forehead and head out of the room.
• Xavier came back holding a tray in his hands. "I made you something." His words were more than enough to send a chill down your spine and force you awake once again.
• Xavier who helped you sit up and sets down a steaming bowl of porridge with chopped chives on top. You looked down on the seemingly normal looking food then went up to look at his innocent and angelic face that waits for you to take a bite. It almost felt like a criminal offense to decline his goodwill.
• Xavier who's face turns into worry as your face almost went stone like after taking one spoonful of the porridge he made. "It's not good... isn't it?" He asks, almost deflated. You on the other hand, shook your head for a 'no' as you felt guilty seeing that he went through the effort of cooking despite not even being out of his hunter uniform yet. So you tried your best to swallow it down despite the salty taste. You were about to take another bite when he took the spoon and bowl away from you. "You don't have to force yourself, Love. You might get even more sick."
• Xavier sets down a plate with four no crusts sandwiches, replacing the salty concoction he made. "I made custard cream sandwiches. Hope you like them more." He sees the twinkle in your eyes upon seeing the sandwiches and watched with great adoration as you gobbled up one piece in no time. It's great to know you have an appetite.
• Xavier who's face becomes mildly pale when you asked about the state of the kitchen. "I'll.. clean it afterwards..." That was all the answer you needed to know. Confirming your hunches that the kitchen is in ruins.
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— ZAYNE : Signs
• Zayne although, not an expert in the field, have seen certain signs that peaked his attention. Recently, you've been asking him to buy certain types of sour and sweet treats. You, having a sweet tooth is not new to him, but having a particular taste for sour treats is one.
• Zayne who watches you combine a kiwi fruit with a slab of peanut butter on top and ate it with a delightful expression. He continues to watch as you repeat the process and practically devour half of the kiwi pack and empty the peanut butter jar in half. You finally noticed him, and offer one which he merely shook his head for a no and continues to read his book, still giving you side glances from time to time.
• Zayne who noticed you were beginning to become quite sluggish. Often, refusing to get up from the bed to declining his proposals of going out on a date during his time off. It was all too strange to him as you would usually be always on your feet and is the one who always bugs him to go out despite his busy work schedule.
• Zayne while even at work, his thoughts were filled of you and your strange behavior. A nurse came in to deliver the documents of his patients for the day, and did some small talk with him while gathering the results he have finished to make. He doesn't usually entertain such things in a workspace, but the topic of a fellow nurse's pregnancy caught his attention.
• Zayne asked the nurse about certain signs, but not disclosing it was from you. A flicker of emotion appears in his eyes before returning back to normal as the nurse confirmed that it might be a sign of pregnancy, but added that it would be wiser to take a test.
• Zayne admits to himself that he has hunches that your strange behaviors might be exhibiting signs that you are indeed pregnant. Considering that after being married, the two of you were rather active. He merely needed one more confirmation from a second party about the signs before proceeding to visit a pharmacy on the way back from his lunch break to buy a test.
• Zayne who had come home after a busy day of work. He sees you slouched down on the couch, eating a tub of ice cream. You looked up at him, holding a spoon on your mouth and greeted him with a smile. "Welcome home, honey~"
• Zayne sets down the paper bag with a thud on top of the coffee table and sat down beside her. He places a hand on the exposed part of your thigh and looks at you with the most serious face he ever shown you. You were confused and already forgotten about the ice cream, asking him if something is wrong. After quite some time, he finally told you. "I think you're pregnant." He hands you a pregnancy test box, you took it despite being dumbfounded.
• Zayne who's eyes were slightly wide open upon hearing your next words. "But.. I just got my period..." His lips were parted, now the one who looks so puzzled. He brings up your strange behaviors in which you replied with a laugh. "Oh I see. Sometimes I become like that whenever my period is near."
• Zayne who somewhat felt down and didn't noticed that you reached out to the paper bag and took out its contents. Your eyes softened upon seeing books about pregnancy, taking care of a baby, and parenting. The books were then snatched from you, switching your attention back to him who tried his best to hide his flustered expression with a cough. You thought that he must've felt excited about you being pregnant and had bought these despite not being confirmed yet. You felt bad, and leaned closer to him. "You know that we have all the time in world to try again, right?" Your voice and words was enough to soothe his initial disappointment as a smile finally curls up to his lips. "You're right."
"You know! I heard that doing it while on period has the highest ch—"
"Don't even continue it."
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— RAFAYEL : Serene Canvas
• Rafayel who proposed the idea of them spending their valuable time off in doing some painting. Saying that being productive is better than lounging around. You, on the other hand, had no qualms about painting, but not exactly confident with it either.
• Rafayel who already painted a beautiful scenery as the background of his painting while you, have just finished painting the sky and a little bit of nick nacks on the bottom.
• Rafayel who peaked at your painting, and proceeds to say. "Amazing, Amore. Those clouds look like soft marshmallows and the trees are.. um.. uniquely abstract." You, looked at him with the most blank face you could muster and say. "Those trees are supposed to be people..."
• Rafayel who's face goes blank, looking back at the painting, analyzing the 'trees' once more. He could've sworn those looked more like what he described. He looked back at you, taking in the way your hair cascaded your face and looking upset despite trying hard not to.
• Rafayel comes up with a solution and says. "Anyways.. you're doing an amazing job, Amore. Who knew you'd have an artistic side." You, only scowled at him, and out of spite points the red dipped bristles of the paintbrush on his cheek and made a one clean stroke.
• Rafayel blinks in bewilderment, feeling the wet bristles brush against his skin and the red paint trickling down. Soon, you snorted, soon a wholehearted laugh came. The initial annoyance you felt dissipated.
• Rafayel who cannot help, but share a warm chuckle as he gazes down at you with the most softened eyes ever. Though, the little bit of mischief in them is visible. He dipped his paintbrush, and then proceeds to make a clean stroke of blue on your cheek, making you yelp in surprise at the cold sensation. His thin lips curled into a mischievous smirk. "Now, we're even."
• Rafayel who laughs wholeheartedly as both of you take playful jabs of paintbrush towards each other, and practically covering yourselves in paint. While you were trying to reach your paintbrush at him, the stool you've been sitting on went out balance and knock yourself off of it, dragging him with you down on the floor.
• Rafayel who still laughs despite the mess that both of you made on his study. His tall and broad frame hovers above you, gazing at you with love filled eyes. He intertwines his hand with yours, a teasing smirk curls up to his lips. "I think that's enough painting for now..."
"I'd like to explore the canvas underneath me more."
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Salome!
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"La Belle Dame sans Mercy" ("The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy") - A ballad by John Keats
"The poem is about a fairy who condemns a knight to an unpleasant fate after she seduces him with her eyes and singing." please
This screams Knight!König x Fairy!Reader to me.
I just know König would gladly die by the hand of such an ethereal being.
"She looked at me as she did love, and made a sweet moan."
"And sure in language strange she said—'I love thee true.'"
That’s it. Thank you.
I swear this artwork kills me everytime I see it....
Ok this became the silliest fairytale ever 🩷✨️
CW: Historical AU blending with mythical/supernatural AU. König being a dreamy mess of a knight who doesn't fit in "normal" society. Reader is part of faefolk. Heavy Arthurian Romance vibes.
König returns to the castle one day. The son of a great liege lord, a warrior through and through, but some people say he should’ve been a poet: so dreamily he looks beyond the battlements at times, sighs after drinking too much wine, stares off into dark corners of the room while tending to his sword and armour as if he can see little pixies dancing there.
His siblings sometimes hit him on the back of his head, or wave a hand over his eyes when he’s about to slip into the fairy world, a forgotten plane that is not supposed to reach the castle. But the castle stones were taken from the moors and the woods, the old land not bending to the priest’s will no matter how many crosses they brought here. Fragile souls are wanton prey for the elves and the fairies who would take them to their land the moment they drop down their guard, and only prayer and fasting hold them at bay. In the fairylands, there is no toil or sorrow; the food is golden honey and wine, the dance and love everlasting, and the fae girls more beautiful than any human maid.
It sounded too good to be true, and it was: God had created men to work and women to give birth, and all the land was theirs to use and cultivate, it was not made to simply run and frolic upon. Some say that these were just old tales and that Christ would banish these creatures away, turn the land to yielding crops and tame firewood.
But some still believed.
When he was a child, the mighty son of the feared lord took porridge and almonds to the woods. “For the fairy people,” he said with bright, trusting eyes. Stole food from under the mistress’s nose, and no one ever dared to say anything about it.
But when this nonsense carried on to adulthood, people had to intervene. There was work to be done, war, harvest and building, and no matter how many coins this man paid to the visiting bards, it would never turn their stories true.
His arm was strong and his strike was true, but his head seemed to be filled with dandelion wine, even when he hadn’t been drinking. Sighed after this maiden or that, wished to travel to foreign lands, courted every nobleman’s daughter who visited the castle, but no one ever took him seriously.
This man had to watch how lady after lady chose some other valiant knight as their husband, some men whose heads were not filled with fairytales and dreams. They did flirt with him, for who could’ve resisted the temptation of making this giant a little sweaty under all that armor? Armor that demanded plate for two people, and a smith who had the talent to forge such a beastly thing.
Nevertheless, he was always left without a warm embrace, and so he was usually found outside, looking at the full moon or spending time in taverns, choosing the company of thieves and rascals over his serious kin.
And now he has returned from the woods, having been gone for months.
People thought he had finally left to fight for some other lord, posing as a simple footsoldier, a disguise that would relieve him of his tedious duties as a knight. Or to court some “lovely peasant girl” he always talked about – such talks were usually crushed by his father, demanding him to be sensible for once in his life.
But he doesn’t prattle about peasant girls now, nor does he ramble about screaming ships at the bottom of the sea. He doesn’t hold a speech about forgotten stone circles in the forest, the ones that already grow moss. No, he has finally lost it completely.
His eyes are wild, as is his hair; his armour is nowhere to be seen, and his sword is without its sheath. He doesn’t talk about what he saw in that forest to anyone, nor is he willing to tell where he has even been these past few moons.
He seems very shaken when he’s told they were worried he wouldn’t make it to the May Day feast, and asks for how long he was gone, drives a hand through dishevelled hair when he hears that he was away for three full months.
“Three months…” he mutters to himself, then leaves to his room, the huge sword dragging against the stone floor as he goes. He has always, always made sure it wouldn’t dull, but now he’s treating it like it’s become a part of him, confused and lost.
He doesn’t eat, hardly speaks after that.
The food tastes like ash, he says, and the ale tastes like bile. But the following evening, when his mother orders someone to pour her poor son some more wine, he looks up helplessly like a child.
“I have to go back,” he says.
A clamour arises, huffed exclaims of “What on earth is he on about” and “Sir, you only just got back!” His father rises from his chair and orders him to stop this nonsense at once. But this time, there is no embarrassed sweep of hand through hair, no red colour that rises on this peculiar knight’s cheeks. His lips only make a thin line before he rises as well and leaves the hall with a weight on his shoulders and dark determination in his stare.
At the stables, a stout Moorland pony and poor stable boy get to witness the drunken bawls of a forlorn knight. The wine sack almost slips from his hands to the dirt as he slumps against the timber of the stall, distorted face coming to rest against a wide, shaky palm.
Luckily, a friend of his knows where to look, and the stable boy sneaks into the shadows, slightly scared of the sorrow of such a big, intimidating man.
But even the companion who always listened to every enthusiastic story since they were kids and ran across the moors, throwing little rocks at his father’s soldiers and laughing when their helmets made a funny clinky sound, can not understand the drunken babble that comes out of König’s mouth this time.
He starts from the middle, which is highly unusual, and talks in strings of sentences that don’t make sense. “She was real, I just know it,” he repeats, over and over again in the middle of confessions about how beautiful she was, how her hair was like the softest spun yarn, her body incredible, naked and wild when she came to him. That her laugh was like the chime of little bells or the sound of the loveliest harp, a song on its own when she walked to him.
She was fascinated with his sword, especially the pommel and the handle interested her, and the curve in the middle of the blade she brushed with her fingers as if it was an entire vale.
He had never seen a woman touch his sword like that… They were never interested in such things, but she was, and she asked him so many questions.
Had he ever felled a tree?
Did he like squirrels?
Were his thighs as hairy as his chest?
She took him down the river, or he followed her; he can’t remember. Her step was so light it didn’t make a sound, and the moss seemed to turn brighter every time her little foot stepped on it. Her hands were tiny too when she wrapped them around his neck, pressed her body against his, and kissed him until there was nothing left of him: no helmet, no sword, nothing but sun and her, her hands and her lips.
Her mouth was still on his when she whispered she didn’t like his armour because it was so hard and rigid and cold, oh, she wondered if there was a man inside there at all.
So of course he showed her.
She giggled at the sight of him, especially his thighs, knelt down on the moss to see how hairy they were.
And would you believe the way she touched him then? It makes him heady even now…
Yes, he took her. But not the way a man takes a woman. She came to straddle him and laughed again, and the things they did together… He can’t even speak about them, but he knows the sun always shined when they rolled on the grass. Her giggles and moans surrounded him, her soft little thighs were stronger than they looked, her breasts so round and soft, so perfect he swore he had gone to heaven.
He bathed in her, with her, all day long. And the nights… You wouldn’t believe the nights: there was song and dance and more giggling women, and also a man dressed all in leaves, so big and thick he first thought he was a tree. An old king, she said, nothing he should worry about. And the wine tasted like summer and honey and gold; it was red, perhaps, but also like sea amber and sun…
She fed him flowers and laughed, caressed his face and said he’s the biggest and hairiest human she had ever seen. She let him lick honey from her fingertips and caressed him with heather and ivy, opened her mouth before feeding him a soft, sweet piece of cake, showing him how he needed to open his mouth as well if he wanted it on his tongue.
She kissed the crumbs from his lips and trailed a finger down his chest, all the way down, until…
Oh, he can’t talk about it.
It was better than he ever even imagined: better than the stories they tell in the taverns. It was like his wedding night, over and over again, it was like he was Lancelot, and she was his Guinevere.
No, no, she was not an enchantress, although everything about her was enchanting... All the stories came alive with her, even the moon was bigger than anywhere he’d ever seen, the deers ran past them while they made love, and the birds sang even at night.
He told her he loved her, but she didn’t know what it meant. When he explained it to her, she looked at him gently, so gently…
He cried from joy then, but she never mocked him. She only said it’s a sign that he’s hers. That he will never forget her. She said he’ll always find her, even when he’s old: she will make him young again. He’s welcome here if he wants: she has so many places to show him.
He thanked all the saints for having found her, Saint George and Saint Mary first, but stopped when her little brows furrowed with sorrow. Her eyes, filled with starlight and love, turned so sad that his heart couldn’t bear it, not for one beat.
The sea is far wilder here: he should come and see the ocean as it was at the dawn of time. The ivy is so strong you can use it to climb the trees and see the whole world from atop the tree, the whole land, covered in forest, such as it was before humans came. There’s no smoke or fire or war: just green everywhere, wild rippling streams and honey bees and berries and fish for everyone who ever feels hungry... They can make love day and night, and she’ll teach him all the songs of old. Humans only remember bits and pieces, but she knows how things really happened, she can tell him everything about heroes, kings and queens.
She said she wanted to sleep, and so he took her from the feast and laid her on the grass… She might’ve sung to him, he can’t remember, but it was like an angel’s caress all over him, somber and sweet before the dreams took him, a dream within a dream.
He slept for ages, it seemed, saw so many dreams, each more beautiful than the last until he woke up and saw that the forest had turned grey.
There was no maiden in his lap, no dance and song in the distance, no scent of flowers and dreams and springs to be found. The sun was up in the sky, but it didn’t paint all the colours with gold or fill the streams with light. The forest was half dead to him, just old, thick trees around him, a green-grey forest floor and a shaggy squirrel who chirped and squeaked at him as if it was his fault that the fae folk were gone.
He searched for her, called for her, but she didn’t answer, and how could she have? He didn’t even know her name. He only knew how lovely she felt, how soft her hair was when it fell to cover him like a veil, how adorable her sighs and tiny little gasps were when he filled her, over and over again.
His armour was nowhere to be found, and his sword was somewhere downstream, half covered with leaves and dirt, rusty and beaten by the wind. It was early spring when he came here; the land was still barren and grey, but now, everything was green. Still, it was not the green he wanted. It was not the green that filled his vision entirely, bright, blooming green that pulsed with lush joy. It was just… earth and grass and dirt.
So you see, he has to go back. He has to find her, whatever it takes. She promised he could always come back… She promised…
He cries once more, head bowed and mighty shoulders trembling from the force of his sorrow, and it is no use to tell him that the fae folk are evil. That they’re from the Devil and only want to make good, decent men like them forget. Forget their duty, their laws, their Christ.
It’s no use to tell him that it is not natural, the place he has seen. No doubt he has been somewhere, but it cannot be anything good… No man can survive on flowers and spring water for three months; they cannot frolic with the faeries for days on end without losing their mind and soul.
And König is already lost; he was lost since he was a child, rambling about how he received flowers, sticks and stones as tokens of the faefolk’s gratitude because he brought them food.
He tries to tell the boy who never grew up, the mightiest man in this kingdom, the dreamiest knight there ever was, that he needs to return to the real world. No fae woman would have him as a husband, they are only after his soul. But surely some human lady would take him into her bed, think about it, for God’s sake, please... He has duties here, people who love him, his father would make him a lord if he only put himself together. What kind of knight would abandon his sword, helmet and armour for the sake of an elf who despises the saints...?
But in the morn, König is gone.
His rusty sword is on the floor, the wooden cross taken off the wall. There lies a honeycomb and a flower on his window, a blossom so sweet it cannot be plucked from any field around here. Too exotic and bright, especially when placed atop the rough, grey stones, it looks like it could never wither from how beautifully it blooms.
The peasants now tell a tale of a man that haunts the woods: a huge giant dressed all in green, donning a leaf cloak of some sort and a beard that grows ivy. But they say he is not evil: he only shows himself to hunters who are about to fall a deer, or children who remember the land with little gifts.
Old men say they saw a green man when they were kids and brought bread and milk to the faeries, they swear to this day they saw a man who greeted them with a smile. And when they looked again, there was nothing but a tree where this giant stook, a young oak, sighing with the wind...
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skyeslittlecorner · 5 days
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Can we have some family's moments plsssss 🥺 Like how the kings take care of the baby after birth (the skin-to-skin contact with the dads is so precious) and maybe some scenerio where they introduce their kids to the nobles pls 😭💕
I hesitated with this request for a long time (sorry! And thank you for your patience!), but I wanted to include everyone here. I needed some time. It's finally ready!
Satan
The pregnancy was as much fun (for Satan) as it was exhausting (for you). Of course, he supported you. Especially when you were screaming during labor that you hated him, and it was all his fault, and he almost cum feeling your anger. But to the point.
He is a truly excellent father and knows how to deal with children, because he has attended births many times. When he lies down next to you and holds your twins in his arms, the look on his face will be one of pure happiness (from tonight onwards there will be not one, but three pairs of headlights staring at you). He will gently support their heads and stroke them between the nubs that will later become horns. You've never seen him so calm before. So caring. As if suddenly, for a brief moment, all his wrath and depression disappeared.
As for the nobles - Satan needs to enjoy the kids, so when Leraye and Paimon come cooing at you and the baby, they'll get their ass kicked. There should be silence! You are tired, twins also need to get used to their parents. Although, Paimon and Leraye will be great guardians, just keep an eye on them all, because when they are having fun, they are really messy. Poor stuffed animals.
Sitri will be the first to have the honor of holding them (and changing their diapers). I think he will be most confused when he has to take care of children for the first time, because they are small, dependent and illogical. He'll learn quickly, especially with your help. Show him how to take care of little ones, and he will do well on the first try.
The best nanny will of course be Astaroth, he is perfect for children. After all, he was the one who started the legend of Santa Claus. (And I still headcanon him to be so old that he was little Satan's guardian). Zagan will be a little more shy, he will consider twins two little treasures, and slowly he will have to learn that they will not shatter like glass when he touches them (the demonstration will be a loving father who will lift the kid by the foot). Belial is also a great nanny, although Jiyu is forbidden from staying with the child for long periods of time.
Satan, of course, is the perfect father. He sometimes has stupid ideas, but he knows perfectly well how to do everything with children, and he would love to stay with you all the time if it weren't for the war and responsibilities.
Mammon
Every contact with Mammon is skin to skin contact. He will be exceptionally delicate. The baby is not so little (and labor wasn't easy), but in his hands it looks even smaller than usual.
He will let you enjoy your child as much as you want and will wait patiently for you to give them to him. During this time, his greed will only increase, but it feels good. After all, as his Master, no, as someone more - as his Wife, you have priority over everything. Especially the baby you gave him. He loves you even more for this, because you yourself are his treasure and you have given him something he never had before.
Bimet will be torn between hiring a nanny and keeping money, but greed will win. Even if he has to take care of the child. Although he will try to avoid his responsibilities as much as possible so that he can only be present while having fun. The kind of uncle who can play with a toddler until he or they start crying.
Valefor will be a much better guardian. He won't be afraid to change clothes and feed the baby, even if they throw gold-plated porridge. Strangely enough, while it won't always be cute, Eligos will take care of them the best of all. Mainly because good care means more attention and headpats for him. I don't know why, but I have the impression that Eligos will be the greatest help for you in raising, because he will be the least likely to spoil this already heavily spoiled child.
Beelzebub
As you expected, Beelzebub will appear very late, but for completely different reasons than you think. This date was etched in his memory like a stone. Except he doesn't know if it's safe, because the moment he sits next to you on the bed, looks at your tired smile, touches your baby… all his desire to wander will disappear. He will have a dangerous urge to give it all up and stay with you. See your child grow up. To look after you. Cursed angels and cursed war, he will destroy the entire Heaven, but he wants to stay with you. When he hugs the baby to his chest, his face shows genuine emotion… and pain. You don't need further assurances of how much he loves you.
There is a running joke that the kids will treat Bael as their father, but neither him nor Beel won't allow it. Bael don't like to be confused with him if he don't have to, after all. Also, even Nabe can tell them apart without glasses, and their children will be able to tell them even more. In everyday life he will actually be a good uncle. Like Sitri, he will need time (and energy) to get used to it, but... he has too much other work to do instead of raising a child.
Naberius won't really know what to do with the children. His greatest contribution would be to play with them, especially if he changed into his dog form. It's not that he doesn't want to help, but his brain freezes when you tell him to heat up the milk. You think it's cute and tell him to mainly keep an eye on them. Stolas is a little better help, but he's loud and energetic. While he can prepare a meal, he's not very good at changing diapers.
The royal nanny in this case will be Amon, if you can convince him to do so. The fact that these are Beelzebub's children should help. We know that if he wants, he can handle any situation very well, and besides, he is mainly our guard when we are at Avisos. This way, you will solve Bael's problem with the always sleeping Amon, and Amon himself will be happy, feeling part of your family.
Leviathan
It's not easy to read the emotions on Leviathan's face, but the way he holds your child, seemingly holding his breath so as not to harm them, made you feel warmer. Always perfect, now he looks like the most lost man in Hades. You will help him, position his hands to hold the baby properly, allow him to get used to the baby's gentleness, and tell him that babies need close contact to maintain body warmth and a steady heartbeat. When Leviathan hears this, he won't want to put the baby down for even a second. The only exception is when you are holding them. In fact, he's torn because when he gives you the baby back, he's jealous that he doesn't hold it, and when he holds it, he's jealous that he just had a beautiful sight of you holding them in your arms… Life is so hard.
I see him as the only king who is not a perfect father. Why should he be if he was no example? He didn't even have a childhood. Neither of you will mention it, but you will learn together how to take care of your baby. This will only bring you much closer. Especially since there is a lot of chaos and very little perfection in parents' lives. He will try as hard as he can, on his own, willingly, but sometimes kiss him and tell him that you will take care of the baby at night. He will be grateful to you for this. Especially since Leviathan will do everything to give your child a real childhood.
Unlike other countries, Hades has no official best nanny. Foras is great at taking care of mundane things like feeding, changing, and bathing, but he's not very affectionate. Barbatos is even too affectionate and playful, he can take care of the child in any way, but keep an eye on him because he considers clothes to be an unnecessary accessory. The best nanny would be Glasyalabolas, if it weren't for the fact that from the very beginning he tries to convince the little prince or princess to dethrone their daddy. Coup d'état, that's just good fun!
As for Orias, in this case Leviathan is much more cautious, but when he sees that his noble still prefers him to the child, then (his ego will be tickled) he will have no problem with him.
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ancient-and-gauntly · 2 months
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Owl Post
Sebastian Sallow x Reader Warnings: None Summary: Sebastian notices you are upset about not getting post, so decides to write you a small love letter to brighten your morning
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You sat at the your house table in the Great Hall, a slight frown marring your usually cheerful face. You absentmindedly stirred your porridge, glancing around at the students who were receiving letters and packages from their families and friends. The owls soared gracefully through the enchanted ceiling, delivering messages to eager recipients.
Sebastian, your new long term flame, was sitting a few seats down and couldn't help but notice your disappointed expression. He had overheard you complaining to Poppy about never receiving owl mail, finding the mornings in the Great Hall a bit less exciting compared to others. A mischievous smile played on his lips as an idea sparked in his mind. He decided that he would be the one to change that.
Late that night, Sebastian sat in the common room with parchment and a quill, carefully crafting a heartfelt letter to you. He poured his feelings onto the page, expressing the warmth and admiration he felt for you. He sealed the envelope with a dash of wax and pressed it so it was nice and tightly closed, grinning at the surprise waiting to happen. The next morning, before breakfast, Sebastian carefully made his way to the Owlery to choose and owl to deliver the special letter. He whispered his instructions to the her and watched as it soared off into the early morning sky, disappearing among the clouds.
As you entered the Great Hall that morning, you noticed the familiar fluttering of wings above you. A brown, pleasant looking owl descended gracefully, landing in front of you with a small note attached to its leg. Surprised, you took the letter and untied it from the owl's leg. You could hardly contain her excitement as you recognized Sebestians distinctive handwriting. You look over to him, giving him a questioning look but all he did was shrug and smile, going back to the food on his plate
Curiosity and delight danced in your eyes as you slowly unfolded the parchment and began to read:
My Dearest Y/N,
I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits, and that the sight of this owl bearing my words brings a smile to your face. I've noticed the lack of owl posts in your life, and I couldn't stand the thought of your mornings being any less delightful than they should be.
There's something magical about the way your eyes light up when you're excited or passionate about something. It's a sight I've come to cherish, and it never fails to brighten my day. I've been meaning to tell you how much I love the way you look when you're lost in thought, a thousand galaxies swirling in your eyes.
Some of my fondest memories involve sneaking on to late night walks with you after curfew on those clear nights when the rest of the world was asleep and finding a nice quiet place to just look at the stars while in each others arms. Stargazing with you is like being transported to another realm, where time stands still, and it's just us against the vastness of the universe. Those stolen moments are etched into my heart, and I find myself yearning for more every day.
And I can't help but mention the small glances we share across the common room. It's as if our eyes have a language of their own, speaking volumes in silence. Those stolen glances, the unspoken connection, they make me fall more and more in love with you with each passing day. It's a love that grows stronger, deeper, and more profound.
For the first time in a long time, I feel at home. Not just within the stone walls of Hogwarts, but within the warmth of your laughter, the gentleness of your touch, and the genuine connection we share. You've become an important part of who I am becoming, and I can't imagine it any other way.
I know we've just started this journey together, and I want you to know that I meant every word I said that first night we spent together. I am planning on spending my life with you. Thank you for believing in me and seeing the potential that no one has seen before. 
Forever and Always yours,
Sebastian Sallow
As you reached the end of the letter, face hurting from the smiling it caused you couldn't help but look over at Sebastian once more, who was watching you with an expectant grin. You eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. You mouthed a heartfelt "thank you" to Sebastian, your eyes sparkling with gratitude.
Sebastian just winks, a mixture of mischief and genuine affection in his gaze.
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growingstories · 3 months
Text
Prison
When army sergeant Danny heard that his team was kidnapped by a local gang in a country where the were stationed, he tried to save them by turning himself in in return for his team to be released. Danny is a vain 40 years old with a beautiful body and had been on missions non-stop. He had no family, the army was family.
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The plan worked and Danny was taken in a car with a blindfold and his team was released. They drove for hours and he was taken to a dark room. He heard the voice of Kami, his caregiver. After being awake of more then 30 hours they took of his blindfold and saw a few guards and Kami. He tried to fight them but the brutally fought back and left him in pain. They left the room and told him to get some sleep. Next morning danny brutally woken up by guards, wash time. Danny was brought to a room in house with big bath. Water was warm, he was feeling comfortable. He was feeling frail and his body was aching.
Was brought back to prison room, bed was kind of large, had toilet in room. Danny slept in worse places he thought.
Kami came in with tray food, big bowl of creamy porridge like, tea and fruit. The tea was very sugary. If he would finish quick enough there would be time for fresh air Kami told him in bad English.
He ate the thick porridge fast, he was used to eat fast in army. It was thick and sweet. He ate it all, he got pain in stomach, but unsure when to eat again.
Guards brought Danny outside, the sun was burning, happy to be outside. Danny saw a nice lush garden, seemed luxury villa, big walls, impossible to climb over.
Had questions, why, Kami didnt understand. He was brought back in room. Asked guards why, no reply. Day was long and boring. Got hungry but was only given water, no lunch.
Dinner Kami brought in big tajine. And big bowl of rice cream, he ate till his stomach was painfully full again. Fell asleep right after. Next morning wash, breakfast, fresh air and dinner. Danny counted 10 of these days but was already uncertain. Everytime he saw Kami or the guards he asked for answers but never got any reply. The just started beating him again if he fought or questioned.
On another morning after during washing a big guy came in washing room. Shave he yelled. Dani sit on chair in washroom, big guy starts shaving him. Felt confused, good to be pampered but he still felt lonely and scared. After shaving guards brought him to another room, only towel around waist. He noticed he was kept in big house. Must be a rich person. Beautiful room, in room was man waiting. The man asked how Kami and guards treated him, Danny replied with very friendly. He started asking questions but was cut off. Man said, for $100.000.000 we release you, till that time you are our guest. Kami came in with Tea and cookies and something that looked like Turkish delight. Man said, now you eat and drink with Kami.
Guards waited in room. Kami took bite of cookie and poured tea. Sweet tea again. Danny took bit of turkish delight, it tasted rich but also alcohol. Sort of cherry flavoured. He took another and another. When he stopped Kami said, eat more. Danny denied and guards grabbed arms, you eat when Kami says eat. Danny took another bite. And another. He started to feel full, sick and drunk. Kami came closer to feed him. He saw that Kami had beautiful body. Nice sweet eyes and smelled very good. He got hard. Kami saw and smiled. Eat more cookies. When the plate was finished he poured tea. Cup after cup. Danny’s belly expanded, and was hards and round.
Guards brought him back and he fell asleep again. A few hours later Kami came in with big bowl of porridge, lunch he said. It tasted sweeter and more creamy then before. He ate it but he was still full from the sweets from that morning. He wanted to through up but Kami pushed porridge in his mouth. He started to get a hard on again. Kami smiled and started stroking Danny. He never felt this way. When bowl was gone Danny layed down, painful belly, still tipsy and horny. When Kami left he jerked himself off. The evening came and Kami came in with Tajine and rice cream. After that some of that Turkish delight, he was filled but Kami pushed some more in his mouth. He got horny again and Kami stroked him. He orgazemed like he never had. The next morning he noticed that his abs were covered by fat. But he couldnt do anything. Just hope that the army would pay for him soon.
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At least another week past and he noticed portions growing but also appitite. He was able to eat more and even got hungry at some point again. He was extremely bored in bed. Kami came by more often. It became a ritual, he started to become full, Kami pushed food inside him and he got horny and Kami made him come. He felt his body growing. Losing muscles and feeling lazy. His belly growing fatter by the day.
One morning, it must have been 6 weeks Kami came in, said, no money from boss. You sad? I hug you. Kami hugged him, it felt good. He felt that Kami had a good ripped body. They started kissing, kissing turned into sex. After while Kami left and brought in huge amount of food. Danny ate for hours. Kami was so sweet.
Another few days went by and Danny noticed stretchmarks on body. He felt fat all over body, he was sluggish and only wanted to lay down.
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Kami’s food became more and more rich. The Turkish delights made his drunk all the time. He had sex with Kami twice a day.
It must have been 3 months when the man came in, told him army was willing to pay $5.000.000 now. It would take time but they will pay. You our guest.
Danny was panicking. He was being fed all the time but was also in love. Kami came it with food and Danny refused, he asked to let him go. No more food. Kami walked out, guards came in. They pushed funnel in him and started force feeding him the rich porridge. He tried to fight but he was too weak. Guards filled him up completely. Kami didnt come in for few days, instead guards kept feeding him. He noticed his body growing very fast from that point. Must been 10.000 calories in one sitting.
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After few days Kami came in again and said, never say no to me. Danny knotted. Kami came in three times a day with the porridge and a big container of the tea. At night was tajine, the Turkish delight and the rice cream. At night kami came in for another bowl of rice cream and jerk off session. It was better then the force feeding but still uncomfortable.
Another month went by and Danny was still growing. It was out of control. His uniform was uncomfortable tight now. His fat bulged over. Kami saw struggling. Came back with new uniform, much bigger, two or three sizes up. Much better. The food portions where still getting larger and Kami was in room longer and much often. The feeding sessions were longer and the sex just practical. The man came in and said they are now willing to pay €10.000.000
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Danny accepted his faith and just went with the flow. He got bigger ander bigger and the only movement he made was his daily strol through the garden. The 10 minutes he was outside already made him sweat. The weight started to feel uncomfortable. Out of breath very fast. He didnt want to think about the shame of being this fat when returned. But also wanted to be free.
Danny thought that he had been prisoner now for about 1 year and a half. He became huge, it was hard to sit up and walk around now. Sex with Kami was his only real activity which he only did laying down. The man came in the room, told him he was about to be released, they were accepting a deal of $50.000.000. He wanted to go home but also not in the state he was. It would be an embarrassment. He asked for the man, the man came in, Danny said not to accept the $50.000.000. Go for the €100.000.000 and in return Danny also wanted $50.000.000. The man said, accepted. And Danny got more freedom. He wasnt kept in his room anymore and was free to use the garden and washing room whenever he needed. There still was a constant flow of rich fattening food, brought by Kami. There were still guards but they werent 24/7 on his game. He just wasnt able to see the rest of the house.
Another six months went by and Danny was huge. Blown up and morbidly obese. Kami and him were together all the time, Danny became a eating machine. The man came in a said that they accepted the $100.000.000. The man handed over an envelop to Danny which contained the codes and information of an offshore bank account. Nobody would be able to trace it. Next step was his freedom. He was put a blindfold and in a car. The drive took about two hours.
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He was dumped in the middle of a busy square. Not long after a few American soldiers came running and helped him up. They couldnt believe it was Danny, their old sergeant. They brought him over to the medical ward where he was discharged. He told the general that it was time for him to retire. The general accepted and Danny flew to a Caribbean island to rest. This is where he would spend the rest of his life. A beach house, good food, and lounging. The good life
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ravencincaide · 3 months
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Happy unhappy home!  
Summar: Soukou think you may be suffering from postpartum depression. Something you strongly disagree with. How dare they suggest you’re an incompetent mother and a threat to your children when they haven’t been around for months! Surely, they must have a different agenda behind their accusation? 
Pairing: New parents! Dazai x Chuuya x Fem! Reader!  (SKK x Fem! reader)
Inspired by Sweetober prompt 12: Chaste Kiss   
Warnings: Cursing, Postpartum depression, light hint at maternal filicide, angst and disappointment, angst
Author note: An independent part two for Desperate times call for Desperate measures. Check that fic out if you’d like more angst, new parents and see more of what happened before this scene! 
Enjoy  
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The alarm was ringing.  
It had been ringing for the past twenty minutes. A dull monotone sound that had reached its maximum amplitude sometime between minute five and eight, leaving the clock to just screech and nervously buzz closer and closer to the dresser's edge. Another loud ring followed by metallic duns as the clock jumped to its death off the bedside table, finally growing silent.  
Slowly you pulled yourself up into a sitting position, forcing your eyes open. You ran your hands over your face, heaving a heavy exhausted sigh. You were literally keeping your eyelids open with your fingers to prevent them from shutting and falling back asleep inside the hard spare bed in the shoesize room. You felt so-so drained and yet you had gotten a decent six hours of uninterrupted rest last night. Without Dazai or Chuuya craving your attention or bringing the twins to you when they became too much.  
Truly six hours of sleep was a miracle.  
Though now that morning came all you felt was a dull frustration. At that moment you did not know what was worse; the fact that you had to get up and face the day. Starting with preparing breakfast for the twins and your lovers, or the mild annoyance of having to go and buy yet another bloody alarm clock.   
At least the babies weren’t fussing. Yet.  
With great effort you dragged yourself out of bed and haphazardly put some day-old clothes on. Hair up in a bun while on the toilet and a quick wash of your face with cold water and you were ready to get started in the kitchen. You needed to put up coffee, blitz some fruit and think about a more adult-suitable breakfast. Porridge was hated by both Dazai and Chuuya but approved by the babies, while omelet was liked by no one but you. Yet another day of sandwiches was out of the option. That left you with pancakes. Glancing at the clock in the living room on your way to the kitchen, you hurriedly picked up your pace.  
Pancakes were doable- if you hurried up.   
Once you got to the kitchen you let out a low groan of frustration. The sink was full of bottles from the nightly feedings wedged between midnight snack dishes and crusty cups of coffee that had finally made their way out of your partner's room and into the kitchen sink. The espresso machine was demanding a new water filter, and you did not even want to think what the splotches and sticky mess on the counter and kitchen table were.  
For a second you didn’t know where to start- then as stress set in you felt your body come alive. You were practically tearing yourself between doing dishes, making the pancake batter and wiping the counter.  When the two non-stick pans on the stove were warming up, you ran the cleaning program on the espresso machine. Then as the pancakes fried, you wiped the table and blitzed fruit for the babies. You set up cups, cutlery and plates in between flipping the pancakes.  
Just as the first batch of pancakes were finished and the coffee machine was brewing the first cup, you heard the heavy shuffling of feet into the kitchen. You ignored them as you proceeded to whip up another batch of pancakes- realizing you made far too little to feed double black. Halfway through cracking the eggs, you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist.  
“You’re up early, Sweets” Chuuya yawned in your ear before placing a chase kiss on your shoulder.  
“Morning” you replied dryly, moving out of the embrace. You were fully focused on flipping the pancakes with one hand while mixing the batter with the second. “Coffee’s ready I think” you muttered, out of the corner of your eye watching a zombie looking Dazai reach for the hot cup, muttering a halfhearted morning and thanks in one breath.  
You heard Chuuya sigh heavily, disappointed, before going over to the coffee machine and brewing another cup. As the machine skimmed the milk and ground the beans, Chuuya got into a half bicker, half quiet discussion with Dazai about something. Not too long after, the two settled down at the table a few paces away continuing the hushed discussion.  
They didn’t even bother to ask- let alone step up to help you. Jerks.  
“Are you absolutely sure this is legit? And how the hell are we supposed to fill it in anyways” You heard Chuuya hiss at Dazai, making you turn your head in question towards them. You saw the two of them staring at what looked like a thick stack of papers between them- no doubt some kind of work-related report. Probably an evaluation of the new recruits or something. 
“ Of course it’s legit- I’m not an idiot like you.” Dazai stated matter of factly pointing something out on the sheets of paper with a half broken- half chewed on ink pen.  
“ Who the hell are you calling an idiot- you extra stuff that comes with bandages!” Chuuya snapped back but settled down the second he noticed your eyes on them.  
You felt your lips turn down in a frown as you flipped another bunch of pancakes: So, fucking typical. With them it was either work or the twins. While you were still just this ‘something’ that did everything around the house with little to no gratitude or help. Right then you felt like the extra stuff that comes with babies. A ghost- boggart- in your own home.   
You had just finished making pancakes when you heard a wail from upstairs. The babies had woken up. Instantly you turned off the stove: wiping your hands on a cloth you rushed upstairs to get the twins. After all, those picture-perfect fathers were not so perfect until after breakfast.  
You returned a few moments later, placing the babies in their highchairs. Then you put small bowls with mashed fruits in front of them in different cups. Yet another attempt at introducing solids into their diet. Then back to the kitchen, returning a few seconds later.  
“Here!” You dropped the two plates of pancakes in front of your so-called partners, not caring either about the loud clang the plates made against the wooden table, or the way the food slid off them. Or the way the twins clapped their hands in glee at the loud noise. You went back to the kitchen, moving things into the sink to make it easier to wash up later, while turning on the kettle for tea.  
A hot cup of chamomile or melissa tea sounded heavenly at that moment.  
Hearing the children's fuss, you abandoned both dishes and tea; rushing back towards the dining table, where Chuuya and Dazai mouths were stuffed with food. Their attention was divided between the stack of papers in front of them and the twins that were eagerly reaching for their fathers' pancakes. You felt another wave of irritation wash over you- a bitter kind of anger that you bit back before you said something you would regret. Instead, you fixed all of them with a warning look, making sure that neither Dazai nor Chuuya shared their breakfast with the twins. The last thing you needed that morning was to pull pancakes out of the children's noses.  
“Sweetheart, aren’t you going to eat anything?” Chuuya asked suddenly, sounding concerned as he watched you come closer to the table and take a seat beside the children.  
“I’m not hungry” you growled through squeezed teeth as you picked up the small plastic spoon and began trying to feed them mashed berries. After a few moments of screwed faces and the fruit going everywhere besides inside the children's mouth, you dropped the small spoon back into the colorful cup and looked up at the ceiling. You were blinking away tears of frustration. How fucking hard was this supposed to be? 
Not hard if you were to ask the pediatrician! 
“Here let me try Belladonna” Dazai gave you a small smile as he picked up the spoon you had carelessly dropped back into the mash.  With some exaggerated motions and airplane noises, the children ate the mash without any issue. As if Dazai was feeding them formulas from a spoon. Soon Chuuya joined him, wiping their mouths and then burping them once the twins were done.  
The sight warmed your heart, but it also made you feel self-conscious- a failure somehow. Why hadn’t you thought of doing that? Wasn’t it a mother's instinct to know what to do and how to care for her children?  To have an inseparable bond. And yet it seemed Dazai and Chuuya were somehow closer to the twins- despite the fact that you were the one who did the majority of the nurturing duties. Were you perhaps- not equipped to be a parent?  
The thought lingered in your head as they all finished breakfast. It lingered through the playtime with children and even as you put the twins down for their nap. When they'd wake up, you’d need to bathe them, then dress them and take them for a little time outside. And then–  
“-Belladona?” you snapped out of your thoughts when you noticed that Dazai had been talking and trying to get your attention for the past minute or so.  
“Oh sorry, what did you say?” You asked as you draped the covers over the snoozing twins and headed towards your partner who was lingering in the door of the nursery.  
Dazai flashed you a nervous smile, one of his hands in his hair, trying to make himself look less awkward. “A moment of your time dalin?” he repeated himself. You frowned, unsure why he’d suddenly ask for your time so formally. Then as you saw him shift under your gaze you felt your eyes widen with realization and nodded quickly, eagerly and followed him back to the living room.  
You sat down on the couch opposite your lovers, a hopeful feeling in your chest. They looked so nervous, bumping shoulders against each other, flickering eyes, silent motions for one or the other to start. To an outsider they would have looked like composed mafioso's- to you they looked like a bunch of nervous teenagers. You held back a giggle, the sight reminding you so much of when they first asked you to be with them- then once again when they asked you to start living together.  
You almost felt nervous yourself. And excited. And anxious. Were they really going to finally–?  
“Sweetheart there’s something we’d like to ask- no discuss with you” Chuuya started, clearly having lost whatever silent banter he and Dazai were having above your head. You felt the palms of your hands grow damp- sweaty. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Your mouth dry- your ears ringing. It was finally happening, wasn’t it? You could barely contain your grin: 
“ You both know I’d say YE–” “– we think you might have postpartum depression”  
Your heart dropped to your stomach. Ice cold dread washed over you; making dark dots play in your vision. The disappointment on your face was clear. It seemed to throw both of them off guard for a moment. Like they couldn’t understand what it was you were hoping for- what you were so eager to say yes to. It took a moment for your mind to register what Chuuya said- but you certainly regained your composure quicker than either of them.   
“What?!” You snapped, narrowing your eyes dangerously at the pair, daring them to repeat themselves. “What did you just say?” 
They didn’t answer directly: Instead, they made a motion towards the stack of papers that they had been fiddling with all morning. They were laid out on the small table between you. Postpartum Assessment sheet with a bunch of ticked off boxes. You didn’t know what made you feel more insulted- that they assumed you had postpartum depression or the fact that they assessed you behind your back instead of coming and talking to you.  
You scoffed in response  
“We think you might have postpartum depression– it’s not uncommon. Especially in young, first-time mothers and–” You flew up from your seat silencing Dazai’s voice instantly.  
“No you’re just saying that because You are not around. Either of you! so it's just fucking easier to blame all the shortcomings and inadequacy on me than look at your own failures!” You began pacing, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t believe it- that they could even think you were a threat to your own babies. To the children you birthed and raised and nurtured- stayed up nights and nights to care for. The ones you took to doctors and classes and sacrificed so much for. How fucking dare they even suggest that?! 
“ Sweetheart it isn’t..” Chuuya started. He had moved off the sofa and closer to you, hands reaching towards you, palms up. Something between an awkward attempt at a hug and reassuring you, he meant no harm.  
“No you’re right, it isn’t about that- is it? It’s cuz you want to take them away from me, right?! Want to take my babies away from me and start a partnership” Your eyes moved from Chuuya to Dazai who had remained awfully passive throughout your entire outburst. The fact that he was always absent with urgent work, then demanding Chuuya to come and help during missions suddenly made a lot more sense to you. 
Just like your bare ring finger.  
The thought stung. Instead of feeling anger however, you felt overwhelming sadness. A type of defeat that only came when you realized your own pitifulness- your own worthlessness. The naivety that those two would ever see you as their equal- a shared part of a whole. This realization left a bitter taste in your mouth; “You’ve gotten what you wanted- what you can’t create yourself- out of me and now you want to lock me up with a stamp of being incompetent? Forget it!”  
Chuuya gaped, his brain trying to come up with something that wouldn’t aggravate the situation further. He seemed to have an idea, a thought, but the words got stuck in his throat as your eyes went away from Dazai and back to him. 
Eyes full of icy fury.  
“I’m not giving them to you, not without a fight!” you snapped just as you heard the twins stirring. Their wails awakening a protective and possessive motherly instinct inside you. Without another word you brushed past Chuuya, bumping his shoulder purposefully on the way out of the living room.  
“That went brilliantly, simpleton” you heard Dazai’s voice but did not bother turning around as you headed upstairs to the twins. Out of the three of them you were the most competent to be a mother - a parent. If anyone was having ‘postpartum depression’ it was those two self-centered idiots.  
Going upstairs you picked the crying babies up and began pacing with them around the room, your mind still a jumbled mess as you pressed kisses to each of the twins' foreheads. God what were you supposed to do if they made you out to be so sick and incompetent, so you’d lose your parental rights and — and— you swallowed then shuddered as you heard your so-called partners yelling at each other downstairs. In panic you hurried to retreat to the safety of the bathroom.  
You made sure to lock the door, then barricade it.  
You took a step back from it, your heart in your throat. The children sensed your fear and wailed loudly in your arms. You shushed them quietly before going further into the bathroom. There you set the children down onto the floor only long enough to turn on the water in the bathtub in a feeble attempt to block out the bickering echoing from downstairs. You made sure the water was perfect temperature, then you hurried to pick the twins up and hugged them tightly to your chest, rocking backwards and forwards. The sound of your so-called partners' loud voices only fueled your fear and sadness. How dare they suggest you were incompetent. How dare they attempt to take these babies away from you. As if they’d be able to do a better job than you. To protect them from this cruel, cruel world! 
 No, you were not going to let Chuuya and Dazai take them away from you. Your twins- your joy. Your purpose in life.  But if they were truly serious about it– then you’d rather take yourself and your babies out of this world than risk putting them through the horrors of going even a day without their mother—.   _____________________________________________________ Update: Check out the next part A hit beyond rock bottom
All fics are unique works by ��ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!
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hamsterclaw · 3 months
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Bloom
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Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 2 - read the rest here.
In a post-nuclear war world, all you have is your son Jiwon. You'd do anything to keep him safe, including putting your trust in your new neighbour Kim Namjoon. You hope you haven't made the biggest mistake of your life.
Pairing: Namjoon x f! reader
Rating: 18+
Genre: Dystopian future AU, smut, single mother reader
Warnings: Sex, swearing, violence
Word count: 7.5k
With thanks to @vyduan for helping me work out the kinks (heh) in this story. Love you, Vy.
Author note: Written in response to an ask I got early in the year - a story I've kept chipping away at and now it's finally finished. Anon, I think about you often and I hope you and your kids are doing well. I hope you've had time to heal and no longer think of yourself as a heartbroken single mom, because you are and have always been more than that.
Your breath comes out in puffs of white as you carry an armful of logs to the furnace powering your greenhouse.
Inside, the air is humid, warm, perfect for the vegetables you’re carefully cultivating. Outside, the cold of a perennial winter’s seeped into your bones.
Nothing grows outside, not since the Great War. 
You wonder why they call it ‘great’ when everything is worse now than it was before the war.
You’re emerging from the greenhouse, wiping your hands on a soiled rag, when you hear your new neighbour singing softly.
He’s got a melodious voice with a gorgeous husky tone. You smile to yourself as he sings a tune you know.
Suddenly he stops. ‘Oh shit!’
There’s a clatter of metal against worksurface, the unmistakeable sound of breakage.
You walk up to the wire fence and call out. ‘Need a hand?’
There’s another clatter, then the door to the greenhouse opens and you meet your new neighbour face to face for the first time.
He’s tall, broad shouldered, with a face that makes you wish you’d bothered to comb your hair before you stepped outside this morning.
‘I — uh— heard the noises and just thought I’d check if you were ok,’ you explain.
He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. ‘Do you have a spare pot? I’ll get you a replacement today, but right now my chilli plant is all over my worktable.’
‘Oh,’ you say, quickly turning. You enter your own greenhouse and emerge with one of your own pots.
‘Here,’ you say, holding it out to him. Your fingertips brush as he takes the pot from you, and you hope you don’t look too flustered.
You say, waving a hand, ‘Don’t worry about a replacement.’
‘My chillies and I thank you,’ he says, so solemnly you laugh.
He smiles warmly at you, and dimples appear in his cheeks.
The juxtaposition of his large frame and his delicately pretty dimples is doing something odd to your fickle heart.
You clear your throat. ‘I’m Y/N,’ you say, suddenly feeling shy. 
‘Namjoon,’ he replies. 
You turn as your son Jiwon approaches, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
You pull off your coat and wrap it around him. 
‘Come on, let’s go inside before you get too cold, ok?’
Jiwon, wrapped in your coat, looks curiously at Namjoon.
‘This is my son, Jiwon. Jiwon, this is our new neighbour Namjoon,’ you say.
You put your arm around Jiwon and lead him back to the house.
‘It was nice to meet you,’ you call over your shoulder.
When you look back, Namjoon’s still standing by the fence, looking at you. 
He waves, once, then turns to go back inside.
***
Jiwon regards you over the porridge bowl you’ve made for his breakfast. 
His eyes are serious, too serious considering he’s barely eight. 
You wish there was a way to protect him from the world.
Instead you make sure he eats, and drinks, and wears his warm coat, because the world may be fucked up but your son isn’t going to go without, not on your watch anyway.
You wonder where Jiwon’s father is now but can’t muster up any emotion about it. The burning desire to watch him suffer faded long ago, leaving nothing in its place.
A blank where your perfect life used to be.
You clear away the plates and pull on your coat. 
‘Ready?’
You walk Jiwon to the single room, little more than a shed, where the makeshift school now is, and as you kiss him goodbye and promise him you’ll pick him up later, you wonder whether things will ever change.
It’s been five years since nuclear warfare destroyed the world, four since Jiwon’s father left, and you’re still waiting for life to get better.
Lost in your thoughts, you nearly bump into a uniformed guard.
You bow and apologise profusely.
You can’t see any of the guards’ faces, but you know they make liberal use of their steel batons. 
The pain of a physical beating, though, would pale in comparison to being detained by the intention readers.
You could recover from a beating, but not from being thoughtwiped.
You shiver and resolve to be more careful as you walk the rest of the way to the community gardenhouse to start your work.
***
You glance at your watch and pick up the pace. You’re late to pick up Jiwon. There had been a raid at the gardenhouse just before you were due to leave, and you and the other gardeners had been searched for contraband.
You arrive at the schoolhouse just in time to see Jiwon being questioned by a guard.
Your heart stops, and you hurry forward, already apologising to the three guards standing over your son.
He’s slight, small for his age, and he looks even smaller surrounded by guards.
You step in front of Jiwon, putting your arm out to keep him behind you.
‘I’m sorry,’ you say, bowing low.
The cold steel of a baton nudges under your chin, hard enough to lift your head.
Terror slices through you as the guard stares down at you, but you try your best to keep still.
The other guard says, ‘Hey, Jaebeom. The General wants us back. Let’s go.’
The baton stills, then the guard withdraws it and holsters it.
He turns away without another look at you.
You grasp Jiwon’s hand, and you don’t let go until you’re safely home.
***
The thin light of dawn’s cutting into the horizon when you emerge from your front door.
Snow’s been falling all night, is still falling now, piled up on your short garden path. You lift the shovel off the hook by your door and get to work clearing the path.
This early, the snow’s still icy and hard to shovel away.
You’re breathing hard by the time you get to the gate, arms aching, face damp with sweat.
Your neighbour Namjoon’s front gate swings open and he walks out, wrapped up warm.
He slows down when he sees you but doesn’t stop. 
You give a small smile which he returns before walking off.
You watch him go and wonder what he does to be leaving so early. 
You see Jiwon’s light come on and hurry inside to make breakfast.
***
There’s blood in the snow when you arrive back home with Jiwon at the end of the day, drops of red splattered in a trail to your neighbour’s door.
You herd Jiwon safely inside and your conscience gets the better of you.
You walk next door and knock.
It’s a while before Namjoon answers, but as soon as he does you know you’ve done the right thing coming over.
He looks terrible, pale and wincing in pain. There’s a wound in his shoulder, his chest is bare.
You say, ‘let me help,’ and then he’s stepping back, sitting heavily down on a chair. 
He’s so tall you barely have to lean down to look at his shoulder.
‘Can you stitch?’ he asks, voice tight, body taut.
‘I’ll patch you up,’ you tell him.
You worked in a field hospital during the War.
Namjoon grits his teeth, pale and tense, whilst you patch his wound.
By the time you’ve dressed it, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead.
You don’t like how pale he is.
‘I have to get back to Jiwon,’ you tell him.
He nods.
Something about the way he slumps back in his seat, quiet and exhausted, makes you say, ‘I can stay overnight to watch you, if you have a spare bed for Jiwon to sleep in?’
Namjoon stares at you for so long you make the decision for him.
‘Come on, let me get you to bed,’ you say.
He staggers as he stands, and automatically you slip an arm around his waist.
He leans heavily on you as you take him to his bedroom and help him onto the bed.
He lays down, eyes already closed. 
You wait until his breathing eases and then you go to get Jiwon.
By the time you get back, Jiwon in tow, Namjoon’s dead asleep.
You make Jiwon comfortable in the adjoining room, hoping Namjoon won’t mind, and set your alarm to check on him periodically.
He sleeps most of the night, waking up once to stumble to the bathroom.
You get up to check on him. ‘Are you all right, Namjoon?’
Thankfully your presence doesn’t seem to alarm him. 
‘I’m fine,’ he says, but you can see the sheen of sweat across his forehead.
You fetch a glass of water and some pain meds from his kitchen. He’s still awake when you knock on his door.
He gulps the water and swallows down the medicine gratefully and lays back. 
There’s something about the irregular rhythm of his breathing that makes you offer your hand.
‘The meds will kick in soon,’ you promise him. You squeeze his hand gently. 
He murmurs a thank you. When his breathing evens out and the grip of his hand eases, you pull the blanket over his chest and make your way back to the other room where Jiwon is.
It’s sometime just before dawn when you wake. Namjoon’s extra bedroom has a pretty view of his backyard, his greenhouse. The rolling hills in the distance are bare in the winter cold, starkly beautiful.
For the first time in a long time, you wonder where Jiwon’s father is, how he’s doing. If he ever thinks of Jiwon, or you. Beside you, Jiwon stirs. 
‘Mama?’ 
‘Yes, baby?’
‘I’m not a baby,’ Jiwon says indignantly.
‘Ssssh, you’ll wake Namjoon up. Are you hungry?’
Jiwon yawns a little. People have always said he doesn’t look like you or his dad, but in moments like this you can see yourself in him.
‘Come on. Let’s go home and I’ll make breakfast, ok?’
You check on Namjoon as you pass his room, only to find he’s already dressed.
He stands when he sees you, and you’re reminded of the height difference between you.
You step back. ‘Sorry, I just wanted to make sure —‘
As though he’s aware of how his height and size intimidate you, he stops where he is.
‘I want to thank you for looking after me last night,’ he says. ‘Will you have breakfast with me?’
Jiwon marvels so openly at the sugary cereal Namjoon produces from a cupboard you can’t help but smile.
Single parenthood in a post nuclear war world has been challenging, and you’re scared about how many E numbers it’s taken to produce a cereal this unnaturally bright, but Jiwon’s so excited it’s worth it. 
Namjoon offers you some, and you accept with a smile. He smiles back at you so warmly that you drop your eyes.
Even injured and tired, your neighbour is the kind of handsome man you don’t think would look twice at you normally.
You cover your skittishness by staring down into your cereal as if fascinated.
By the time you gather the courage to look up, Jiwon’s finished his food. 
You’re about to get up to take him home when Namjoon puts out a hand to stop you. ‘Finish your breakfast,’ he says quietly. 
He gets up. ‘Come on, Jiwon, I hurt my shoulder yesterday, can you help me in the greenhouse until your mum finishes her food?’
Jiwon falls into step beside Namjoon so naturally you have no qualms about letting them go together. There’s a funny lump in your throat as you watch them walking together through the kitchen window. 
You tell yourself sternly to keep it together and not to assign a romantic narrative to your handsome neighbour who’s clearly just repaying your kindness from yesterday. 
By the time Namjoon and Jiwon get back, you’ve finished your breakfast and washed up. The kitchen looks like you and Jiwon were never there.
‘Thank you,’ Namjoon says. ‘For looking after me yesterday.’
‘It was no bother at all,’ you tell him, sincerely. ‘Thank you for breakfast.’
You nod to his chest. ‘You should get the wound checked out at the clinic today.’
‘I will,’ Namjoon promises. He waves goodbye to Jiwon and you, standing on his doorstep until you’ve rounded the fence to your side.
***
You’re walking with Jiwon back from school when you realise there’s someone waiting at your door. You can’t see clearly in the evening light, and you tuck Jiwon closer into your side as you approach.
You call a greeting, and a moment later the person steps into the light and you realise it’s Namjoon.
‘Hi,’ you say, unable to hide your relief.
‘Hi,’ he replies, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just by the river and I passed a cart selling these and I thought Jiwon might like them.’
He holds out a paper wrapped bundle of bungeoppang, still warm despite the cold.
Jiwon’s reached out, already thanking him, and you look up at Namjoon.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you, they’re his favourite.’
‘There’s enough for both of you,’ Namjoon says.
He’s stepping away, halfway down your yard when he stops. 
‘Your gate lock’s broken,’ he says. ‘I can help you fix it if you want.’
‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ you say hastily. The lock’s been broken for a while, you’d meant to fix it but it’s been a busy month at the communal greenhouse.
‘It’s not safe,’ he says gently. ‘Not with both of you in the house.’
His words, though gently spoken, send a flush of shame through you.
He must think you’re such a mess, incapable of even keeping yourself and your son safe. 
He doesn’t give you time to answer. ‘I have tools. I’ll come over tomorrow and fix it, ok?’
‘Thank you,’ you say. There’s a quiver in your voice, you hope he doesn’t know you well enough to hear it. 
You open your door and usher Jiwon in from the cold.
***
You’re clearing your garden path the next morning, shovelling snow, when Namjoon comes to fix the gate. 
He nods politely at you, then gets to work. He doesn’t seem to want to chat, particularly, but that’s fine with you as you’re out of breath from clearing the path anyway. 
Namjoon disappears briefly once the lock’s fixed, comes back with a bag of grit over his shoulder. 
‘Let me grit your path,’ he offers, and you let him as he’s already brought the damn stuff over.
You invite him in as you prepare Jiwon’s breakfast.
He sits at your table, looking big in your small kitchen but not out of place.
There’s a picture on the wall of you and Jiwon’s father, from the Christmas that Jiwon turned two.
You can see him looking at it as you pass him a mug.
Namjoon asks, ‘Is that Jiwon’s father?’
You look at the photo. In it, you’re holding Jiwon up, and Hiro, Jiwon’s father, is laid on the floor, tickling his feet. There are the trappings of what Christmas was like before the war scattered all around you.
Luxuries that weren’t until everything else was taken away. 
‘Yes,’ you say. You lean against the kitchen sink, hold up your own mug. ‘He left after the war.’
‘I’m sorry.’ 
He looks like he means it. 
‘It’s ok,’ you tell him, honestly. ‘We’re doing ok, and Jiwon doesn’t remember much of him.’
There’s a moment of silence, then you hear Jiwon’s footsteps coming down the stairs. 
He greets Namjoon with a total lack of surprise at seeing him at the breakfast table. You’re amused at the nonchalant way Jiwon greets Namjoon, and then you realise it might be because of Namjoon’s calm, gentle manner.
For all his size, you find it difficult to envision Namjoon ever hurting anyone or anything. 
***
The guards come for you a few weeks later, late at night when Jiwon’s asleep. You’re putting away the washing up when there’s a knocking at the door.
Impatient, demanding.
You crack the door open only to have to step back quickly as the door is pushed inward, towards you.
The two guards who enter have epaulets on their shoulders signifying them as of a low rank. 
Any rank can detain a civilian for thoughtwiping, though.
The chill in your spine is only partially environmental.
‘Are you the wife of Hiro Kwon?’ 
You keep your tone calm, steady. ‘We’re estranged. I haven’t seen him in years.’
‘We have reason to believe he stole a very important pre-war relic from General Dei.’
You know where this is going.
‘My son is sleeping upstairs, can I take him into the greenhouse whilst you search my house?’
The guard closest to you gives you a hard stare. 
‘He has nightmares,’ you say, pleading. 
You fetch Jiwon, get him dressed and take him outside whilst the guards search your house. He leans against you, quiet. You hate that events like this are a part of his life.
Next door, Namjoon’s light is on. 
When the guards come out to tell you that you can re-enter your own house, you hear Namjoon’s door opening.
He walks up to the fence, and your heart stops.
He’s wearing full guard uniform, with epaulets that show he outranks the guards questioning you.
Sweet, gentle Namjoon from next door is a high-ranking official in the guard.
And you? You’re the biggest fool alive.
He’s looking at you and Jiwon, face impassive, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he takes you in.
Beside you, Jiwon’s shivering, and automatically, you slip your coat off to wrap around him.
You turn back to the guards. You’re still struggling with the weight of recent revelations but you need to get Jiwon back inside.
‘May we go?’ 
The guard stops you, drawing his baton, and you freeze.
‘He can go. We have more questions for you.’
You can’t look at Namjoon.
‘Of course. Let me take him up to bed and I’ll answer any questions you have.’
The walk back downstairs after you put Jiwon to bed feels like your feet are too heavy for your body.
You cast an eye at the mirror in your hallway. Your expression is a perfect blank, unreadable. You already know the lengths you’ll go to, to keep Jiwon safe.
The questions start innocently enough.
When did you last see your husband?
When did he last try to contact you?
You’re asked differently worded versions of the same questions repeatedly.
Your answers get shorter as the questioning goes on, and then the baton comes out even though you haven’t moved.
It raps on the table next to your hand, and you can’t help it, you startle badly at the sound.
There’s a knock at the door, then.
You look to the guards, and the younger one gets up to answer.
He returns with Namjoon. 
Namjoon’s face is impassive. He gives you a once over, then nods to the two guards. 
‘Leave us, I’ll handle this.’ 
The tension in the room ramps up as the guards leave, and by the time the door closes behind them, it’s taking all your strength to stay still. 
Namjoon, as though sensing your turmoil, takes a step back, away from you. 
His voice is low, quiet, but you have no difficulty hearing him. 
‘Did they hurt you?’ he asks. 
You look up at him, trying to read his expression. ‘No, they didn’t,’ you answer. 
He lets out a breath that sounds relieved.
‘Have you heard from your husband?’ he asks.
‘I told you, we’re estranged,’ you reply.
You can hear Jiwon moving upstairs. You turn back to Namjoon.
‘Can I go to him? I’ll come back down, I just want to make sure he’s ok —-‘
Namjoon’s expression changes. He looks stunned. 
‘Of course, I wouldn’t stop you.’
When you come back down Namjoon’s still standing where you left him.
‘It’s late, you should go to bed,’ he says. His eyes search yours.
You look back at him, at the epaulets adorning his broad shoulders.
He must have earned them somehow. 
The thought makes you avert your eyes, set your chin.
‘I will,’ you say, neutral, cool. 
Namjoon waits like he’s got more to say, but when you look up, he’s headed to your kitchen door, letting himself out.
You lock the door behind him and breathe out, fully, for the first time in hours.
***
You wake the next morning to sounds outside your window.
There’s a man in your garden, and you’d be alarmed if Jiwon didn’t have a similar profile.
It’s Hiro.
You open the back door and gesture him in.
He looks older, thinner, but he still has the spark in his eye that drew you to him. You’re surprised to find you don’t feel anything about his sudden appearance apart from the faintest pleasure of seeing someone who was once dear to you.
You moved on out of necessity, and there’s no going back.
‘The guards are looking for you,’ you say, once you’ve made him a drink.
‘I know,’ he says. ‘I need somewhere to stay. Do you have any money?’
‘Not much,’ you tell him. ‘I can spare some.’
Hiro touches your hand, on the table in between you, and you pull back, startled.
You get up, gather the banknotes you’ve saved, and give him what you can.
‘Can I see him?’ Hiro asks.
You don’t have it in your heart to say no. ‘Don’t wake him.’
You take him upstairs to Jiwon’s room, let him peer through the crack in the door.
When Hiro turns back to you, there are tears in his eyes.
You have nothing left to say.
***
The raid on the communal greenhouse today was unexpected, and you weren’t quite quick enough to get out of the way of a wayward baton strike.
Your wrist throbs dully, your fingers are swollen, and the painkillers you dry-swallowed are only just about taking the edge off. 
You’ve sent Jiwon to bed and are trying to dislodge the sack of fertiliser from the top shelf of your greenhouse one-handed, panting at the effort, when Namjoon’s porch light comes on.
Startled, you lose your balance and fall off the crate you’re balancing on, just about managing to protect your wrist as you land.
The noise you’ve made draws Namjoon to the fence.
Thankfully, he’s not wearing his guard uniform.
When he sees you on the ground he disappears, appearing a moment later on your side of the fence, breathing hard from rushing over.
‘Are you ok?’ he asks, helping you up.
You’re about to answer when his face darkens. ‘What happened to your hand?’
Your hiss of pain when he reaches for you makes him flinch.
‘Here,’ he says. 
He cups a hand under your elbow gently, helping you back into your kitchen.
He frowns even more when he sees how swollen your wrist is.
‘We need to get you to a clinic,’ he says.
‘I can’t leave Jiwon, I’ll go in the morning,’ you tell him.
‘You can’t leave this overnight,’ Namjoon insists. 
He runs a hand over his face. ‘I’ll call my friend.’
‘I’m fine —‘
‘You aren’t,’ Namjoon says, the shortest he’s ever been with you. ‘I have a friend who’s a nurse, I’ll call him.’
You sit quietly in your kitchen as he makes the call. 
‘Jimin will be here soon,’ he tells you when he returns.
You’re too on edge to ask about Jimin.
You want to tell him that you’re fine, but when you open your mouth, you say, ‘Hiro, my ex husband, came here yesterday asking for money.’
Namjoon considers this in silence.
‘If the guards find out —-‘
‘I’m sure as hell not going to tell them,’ Namjoon says, sharp. ‘And neither should you.’
‘You’re a guard,’ you point out. 
‘And you told me because you know I’m not like them,’ Namjoon says. His voice is neutral, without inflection. 
‘I told you because I don’t want you to get into trouble because of your association with me. Especially after they came looking for Hiro,’ you argue. 
You get up. ‘And yes, because you aren’t like them.’ 
As soon as you say the words you realise they’re true. 
On some level you know, from the sides of him he’s shown to you, that Namjoon isn’t like the guards you’ve seen. 
Namjoon rubs his eyes. He looks tired. 
‘My father was a commander in the first generation of guards,’ he tells you. There’s a note of bitterness in his voice. ‘That didn’t save me from being thoughtwiped.’ 
You stare at him in shock. 
‘I have all the right decorations,’ Namjoon continues, gesturing to his shoulders. 
He meets your gaze. ‘I can’t excuse the things I’ve done in the past to earn them. I was young, eager to please my father, eager to keep my mother safe, and there’s nothing safer than being a guard.’
There’s bitterness in his voice now.
‘I had my limit though, as warped as I was, and I protested against an order I was commanded to carry out.’ He pauses. ‘I couldn’t do it.’
‘Your past is a fog once you’ve been thoughtwiped, but it comes back slowly, in flashes. Like a puzzle that’s incomplete.’
You’re so caught up in Namjoon’s story you’ve forgotten about the pain in your wrist.
‘This isn’t about me but I told you this because I want you to trust me,’ Namjoon says. He touches your arm, gentle. ‘There’s no threat to you, from me.’
You believe him.
You’re about to say so when there’s a knock at your door.
Namjoon gets up and returns with a man with kind eyes who introduces himself as Jimin.
He tends to your wrist with a gentleness that almost brings you to tears, binding it and placing it in a brace that eases the pain a little.
‘It’s probably broken,’ Jimin tells you, ‘but this is the best I can do until you can get to the clinic.’
You thank him gratefully. 
‘Namjoon says you have a son. If you bring him to my clinic I’ll do a health check for free,’ Jimin offers.
You can’t thank him enough for his kindness.
After he leaves, Namjoon says, ‘Do you have a spare room? Or I can sleep on the couch.’
You stare at him, overwhelmed. ‘I don’t have a spare room —-‘
‘The couch it is,’ Namjoon says. 
‘You don’t have to —‘
‘You did it for me when I was injured,’ Namjoon points out. He dimples at you. ‘Don’t let me miss my chance to play nursemaid….’
You can’t imagine anyone who looks less like a nursemaid than your tall, broad, handsome neighbour.
‘You can take my bed,’ you offer.
There’s a beat of silence, and you realise how it must have sounded to him.
Oh no.
You splutter in your haste to explain. ‘Oh my god, I meant you can take my bed, for you, alone. I can take the couch.’
Namjoon looks like he’s holding back a smile.
‘I’ll take the couch,’ he says, very gently. ‘Now you should go to bed, you look very tired.’
You take yourself off to bed before your mouth betrays you again.
***
You wake to familiar scraping outside. You get up, hissing at the dull flare of pain in your injured wrist, and head for your bedroom window.
It’s Namjoon, clearing your garden path. He pauses to wipe a hand over his forehead, breath coming out in white puffs.
You pull on a robe and head down to the kitchen, open the back door.
‘Hey,’ you call.
He turns immediately, face creasing in concern. ‘How’s your wrist?’
‘Still broken,’ you say cheerfully.
A dimple flashes in his cheek.
‘Go sit down, I’ll finish this and make us breakfast.’
Despite Namjoon’s instructions, you start on breakfast anyway, you’re used to looking after you and Jiwon.
‘I’ll walk Jiwon to school so you can go straight to the clinic,’ Namjoon says.
You look at Jiwon.
Jiwon’s bright smile is all the answer you need.
***
You wake in the dead of night, heart thumping, blood rushing in your ears.
You’re up and out of bed before you’re fully awake, hand on Jiwon’s door, when you hear it again.
The same noise that woke you up.
The creak of your front gate.
You hear footsteps to your front door, then the knocking starts.
You wake Jiwon, wrap him in his coat, wishing you’d remembered your own.
‘Open the door, by the order of the guard,’ shouts a male voice, making you stumble in fear, making your adrenaline surge.
You glimpse the grandfather clock on your landing as you hurry through to the kitchen with Jiwon.
It’s 2am.
You doubt this is a routine interrogation.
It feels more like a raid.
You grab Jiwon’s face, make him look at you.
‘If we get separated, run through the gate and into Namjoon’s greenhouse. Don’t wait for me.’
Your voice is calm, your eyes serious, and Jiwon, with the wisdom of a much older child, nods.
You pull his coat closed, and take a breath, gathering your wits about you before you pull open the back door.
There’s no one there. The guards are still at the front of the house.
You hold Jiwon’s hand, tight, and step into the night.
***
You make it into Namjoon’s greenhouse just as your kitchen lights come on.
Your heart pounds like drums in your chest, insistent, so loud you’re worried anyone within a half mile could hear it.
You tuck Jiwon into a corner between sacks of fertiliser, stacked up, and listen intently.
There’s shouting, the sounds of doors slamming.
You hope it’s snowing hard enough to cover the tracks you and Jiwon made.
There’s nothing you can do about it now.
You wait, Jiwon tucked as far back as you could put him, hands gripping the shovel you grabbed from the back of the door. 
Beams of light bounce over the glass wall, freezing you into position. You close your eyes.
The door creaks open, and you stop breathing.
Steps, then in your terror it takes you a while to recognise Namjoon’s face.
Your eyes meet.
Namjoon holds up a hand, the barest of movements, then he shouts, loud and clear, ‘They’re not in here.’
Your heart pumps, and you start to breathe again. 
***
It’s hours before Namjoon returns to the greenhouse, face drawn and tired.
He says, ‘We need to go.’
‘Where?’ you ask, when you’re really thinking, ‘We?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way.’
Namjoon scoops Jiwon into his arms like he weighs nothing, and you follow.
Your limbs are stiff from the cold and the tension of waiting to be caught, but you make them bend to your will, keeping up with Namjoon’s longer strides.
‘I’ve got a car, a mile from here, can you walk?’ Namjoon asks, terse.
You notice the backpack he has slung onto his shoulders. 
‘I can carry something,’ you say, ‘Give me the pack.’
Namjoon’s tense expression softens, just enough to be perceived, as he glances at you.
‘Keep pace with me,’ he says.
It takes you a quarter of an hour to reach the car, parked alongside a warehouse. 
Namjoon places Jiwon in the backseat, tucks a blanket over him, unlocks the trunk to place the backpack inside.
You climb into the front passenger seat, watch as he starts the engine. His hand curls around the gear shaft, and you put your hand over his. 
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ you ask.
There’s no going back from this. It’s one thing to not report you to the Guard, it’s completely another to help you get away.
Namjoon looks at your hand on his for a moment.
‘I haven’t felt this strongly about anything in a while,’ he says.
He looks up at you. ‘This is the only right thing I’ve done in a long time.’
He puts his other hand on top of yours briefly, then pulls away to start the engine.
He drives.
***
Dawn’s breaking by the time you reach your destination, a cabin deep in the mountains that you access via a narrow road buffeted with snow drifts.
Namjoon cuts the engine, sits back, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks tired.
‘Are you ok?’ you ask, tentative. 
‘Better now,’ he says, some of the tension leaving his expression. ‘Better now that we’re here.’
Jiwon’s stirring now that you’ve stopped, looking at you and Namjoon with a quiet resignation.
You hate that he’s grown to accept his world constantly being turned upside down as his due.
Namjoon turns back to look at him, a dimple popping in his cheek as he smiles.
‘Hey, are you hungry, Jiwon? I have some cereal in the cabin.’
Your heart teeters at Namjoon’s easy kindness towards your son, about to fall.
You’re about to fall for this man who you owe so much to, fool that you are.
You put your hand on Namjoon’s arm, eyes alight with gratitude. ‘Thank you,’ you tell him.
Namjoon glances at you, hesitates. 
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ he tells you. ‘I — I wanted to help.’
You think about his words as you help Jiwon out of the car and you head for the cabin together.
***
Jiwon’s asleep, you make sure he’s tucked in warm before you go into the main part of the cabin. 
Namjoon’s standing by the window, his large frame taking up almost all of it, face tilted up, like he’s looking at the sky. 
He turns when he sees you. 
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I’ll get the generator working tomorrow.’ 
There’s a fire in the hearth, not quite enough to light up the whole cabin but it’s warm enough. 
‘Don’t apologise,’ you tell him. 
You can’t see all of his face in the shadows, so you step forward. 
‘Jiwon and I wouldn’t be safe, here, if it weren’t for you.’ 
‘It was a woman and her son,’ he says, a change of subject so abrupt he’s lost you for a second before he continues. 
‘They wanted me to thoughtwipe her because of something her son did. Something stupid, meaningless.’ 
He turns to look out the window again. ‘I refused.’ 
‘That’s when they thoughtwiped you,’ you say. It’s not a question. 
He laughs, short, harsh. ‘And then they thoughtwiped her anyway. Last I heard she and her son were separated, sent to different sectors.’ 
You step forward again, wanting to see his face. 
‘You’re a good man, Namjoon,’ you tell him. ‘You can’t be responsible for everything.’ 
‘I should have done more,’ he says, flat. 
‘You’ve done a lot for us,’ you point out. 
You still can’t see his face, but you can see the sadness in the line of his shoulders, poignant and beautiful. 
You take another step forward, cup his cheek. His skin’s warm, and there’s the faintest pressure against your palm as he leans into your touch. 
You shiver a little, more from the feel of him than from the cold, but he’s quick to react, slipping the fleece off his broad shoulders and placing it over yours. 
For a moment his arms are around you, and you’re within a breath of turning away, would have turned away if you hadn’t felt the shift in his weight.
He’s leaning on you.
You curl your hand around his neck, and he leans down with the faintest pressure from your fingertips.
A thrill races through you as his lips brush yours, blooming into a pulse, heady and throbbing as you tilt your head to kiss him again.
He’s slow, so gentle it takes you a while to realise that his kisses are robbing you of your breath.
The tip of his tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, a question you answer by parting them.
Letting him in.
His hand travels down your side to land on your hip, tentative.
Another question.
This time you slide your arms around his waist, under his top. The warm skin of his back is smooth under your hands.
He grunts softly as you pull him closer, comes willingly. 
He kisses you again, firmer this time, and you melt into him. 
Gradually, in stages, closer and closer until you’re so close you don’t know where he ends and you begin. 
He cups the back of your head, pulls away just enough to say, ‘The couch.’ 
You follow him to the couch, and he tilts his head for another kiss. 
You put a hand flat on his chest to steady yourself, and he puts his own hand over yours, covering it completely, anchoring you to him. 
‘I haven’t done this in a while,’ you tell him. 
‘Me either,’ he says. 
His dimple flashes. ‘We can remind each other.’ 
Namjoon’s a patient man, you knew this about him already. 
You hadn’t expected him to be quite this patient though, not pushing you even though you can feel how hard he is under you.
‘Do you want to keep going?’ you ask.
‘So badly,’ he tells you, huffing out a breath, tilting his head back. His throat bobs as he swallows, hard.
You lick a stripe along his neck, and he shivers, gripping your shoulder. 
‘Do it again,’ he says, voice dropped low. ‘Can I touch you?’
‘Please,’ you say, and to your delight, his hands drop to the front lapels of your (his) shirt.
‘You look good in my clothes,’ he murmurs. He kisses down your chest, slow, open-mouthed, and by the time he gets to your breasts you’re vibrating with need.
He takes the tip of your breast into his mouth, sucking delicately at first, then more strongly when you moan his name.
Every pull of his mouth makes you pulse and tighten, and you don’t realise you’re grinding against him until his big hand grips your hip.
‘Stop, or I’ll come,’ he warns, voice thick, gravelly now.
‘Take your clothes off,’ you say.
He undoes the fly of his jeans, and the damp patch you see where his cock’s tenting his boxer briefs makes your mouth water.
He stops you with your hands on your own sweatpants, says, ‘Let me.’
Before you realise quite what he’s doing, he’s slid onto his knees on the floor, has tugged your sweatpants down to reveal your thighs, the hot stickiness between your legs.
He hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties. Poises himself, open mouthed over your core.
Looks to you once, eyes hooded, and whatever he sees in your face makes him bend down and put his mouth to you.
You cry out, muffled behind your own hand, and he stops instantly. 
‘Is this ok?’ he asks.
‘Yes, yes, please,’ you tell him.
He watches you as he slides his tongue over your slit, eyes hooded and hot.
He’s good with his tongue, you realise dimly in the back of your mind as he laps at you. He swallows audibly, and your hips dance under his mouth.
‘Joon,’ you moan, and he hums, deep voice vibrating against your skin.
‘Joon,’ you moan again. His hand splays on the curve of your hip, fingers tightening on your flesh.
This time, he moans in response, and you cry out, throaty and hoarse, as he sucks at your clit with renewed fervour, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
‘Joon!’
He pushes a finger into you, and you come with a gush of wet, walls tightening around him, your entire body tensing for a glorious instant before giving way to waves of pleasure.
Namjoon groans, deep in his chest, and you reach out and grip his hips, guiding him between your legs.
‘Wait,’ he says, touching your face, gentle though you can feel him hard as steel at your entrance, the blunt fullness of his cockhead nudging, seeking. ‘Are you sure you want this?’
‘Yes,’ you say, ‘yes.’
Namjoon groans again, pressing into you, filling you so well your body arches like a bow against his.
‘Feel so good,’ he utters, jaw tight, voice raspy.
He moves strongly within you, taking control with a confidence that thrills you to your toes.
He says your name as he moves, guttural and wanting, the slide of him into you making sparks bloom behind your eyelids.
He grasps your hand, fingers knitting with yours, as you writhe and moan underneath him. 
‘Sound so pretty,’ Namjoon groans. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t —‘
You grip his shoulder. ‘I want you to come, Joon,’ you breathe, mouth by his ear.
He groans again then, circles his hips, and then thrusts deep, spilling his warmth inside you. 
He’s still for a moment, breathing hard against your ear. 
You turn your head to kiss him. 
You’re still holding his hand, and it’s a while before either of you let go. 
***
You pour out a mug of coffee from the pot Namjoon’s brewed, go out to where you can hear Namjoon chopping wood outside. 
He’s concentrating, splitting chunks of wood with a careful precision. 
He looks up as you approach, and his smile warms you. 
‘Hey,’ he says. 
You’d ended up sleeping tangled up with Namjoon. Some time during the night you’d woken to find him pushing your hair back from your face. 
You’d pulled him down on top of you, taken him in again, slow, languid, bodies moving together until you’d gasped and come, muffled against his chest. 
‘Hey,’ you reply. 
‘Jiwon still asleep?’ he asks. 
‘He’s exhausted,’ you say. 
‘Glad we didn’t wake him,’ Namjoon says. 
‘He’s a pretty good sleeper.’ 
Namjoon glances at you, and you flush. 
‘I didn’t mean —’ 
He laughs at how flustered you are. 
‘Good to know he sleeps well,’ Namjoon says. There’s a spark in his eyes now, dimples flashing in his cheeks. 
For all his size and height and seriousness, your handsome neighbour looks like a little boy trying to get a rise out of you when he’s like this. 
He watches, amusement in his face, as you sip the coffee to try to hide your discomfiture. 
When you look back at him, he’s gathering up an armful of wood. 
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘When Jiwon wakes up I need to talk to both of you.’ 
***
The sun’s high in the gloomy sky by the time Jiwon wakes, lured by the smells of breakfast and the warmth of the fire in the fireplace. 
After breakfast, Namjoon clears the table, and then sits you all down. 
‘We can’t stay here for long,’ he says, seriously. ‘The guards don’t know about this place, but it’s not safe, and they’ll still be looking for you.’ 
‘There’s a place close to the border where there’s a new community, away from the guarded sectors.’
You’re looking at Namjoon, carefully, and he’s looking right back at you.
‘We could go there. It’ll be hard, probably, at the beginning.’
You turn to Jiwon.
Hard? 
Harder than the life you have now? 
If there’s one thing you know, it’s that you need to find a better future, for Jiwon. 
Stability. 
You ask the question you asked in your head when you left home with Namjoon.
‘We?’
‘Yes,’ Namjoon says. ‘I’d like to go with you. If that’s ok.’
You’re looking at Jiwon again. 
The hopeful expression on his face makes the decision for you.
***
Ten years later
You’re waiting at the train station for Jiwon.
There’s a chill in the air still, it’s cold for spring but warmer than it has been in recent years.
A lot’s changed in the last ten years.
You, Namjoon and Jiwon had moved to the new community at just the right time.
It had been hard at first, but nothing compared to the constant fear of being detained by the guards.
The world’s been rebuilding itself after the War.
With your experience as a communal gardener, you’d been able to set up your own hydroponic greenhouse, and demand built up for your produce, to the point where you’ve been able to hire your own crew of gardeners and expand.
Jiwon had thrived in the new community, and when universities re-opened, he’d been accepted as part of the first few cohorts of students. 
His university was a few hours away, but the redevelopment of public transport meant there was a regular train linking his campus and your home.
The home you built with Namjoon.
In recent years, you’ve seen more and more of the light-hearted, humorous Namjoon and less of the troubled, serious Namjoon you first met.
Your love for him has only grown.
He approaches you now, a little older, but still as heartbreakingly handsome as the day you met him.
You think the best decision you ever made for you and Jiwon was to let him in. 
And now Jiwon’s on his way back for Christmas, and your heart is full.
Namjoon hands you the coffee he bought you from the cafe, and when you tilt your face up to his he leans down.
It’s a learned response from years of adjusting his height so you can reach to kiss him.
You press a kiss onto his cheek, over his dimple, and his arm slides around you to hold you tight to him.
The train pulls into the station, and Namjoon grasps your hand as it stops.
The carriage doors open, and your beautiful son steps out.
Physically, he looks like you, but the confidence in his bearing, the kindness in his face, the roguish twinkle in his eyes?
That’s you, and Namjoon.  
©hamsterclaw 2023
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merakiui · 2 months
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"You don't have to leave you know" with jade please? Love your writing
:D this is connected to tmdg. I couldn't resist writing another snippet with my favorite pair of fools: one who is lovesick and the other who is lovestruck. <3 (implied fem reader + pregnancy)
(fwb dialogues)
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When Jade sets a bowl of porridge topped with bananas and blueberries in front of you, you eye him suspiciously.
"What's this?"
"Breakfast. Specifically the overnight oats we prepared yesterday."
You deadpan, peering at the smiling face he managed to arrange with the fruit. "I know that. But why?"
He turns away to continue cutting an apple into rabbit-shaped slices. "Isn't breakfast the most important meal out of the three? You can't start your day on an empty stomach."
It's the weekend; you don't particularly care. Strangely, when he places the plate in front of you, there isn't a portion for himself. Everything's fixed for one person. You've known Jade and his monstrous appetite long enough to suspect something's amiss. More importantly, this is the third time this week he's insisted on spending the night to prepare, what he calls, "safe make-ahead meals." Why he felt the need to call them safe is beyond you... Even more strange is the fact that all of these meals have looked flowery and cute. Almost like something you'd find in a themed café. Either he's having way too much fun, or there's some deeper, underlying meaning behind the adorable image.
"I'm not really a breakfast person."
He pouts at you. It isn't very effective. "You're missing the joys of a good meal in the morning."
"I'm missing good sleep. I'm not even that hungry." But even as you say that, your stomach produces a betraying rumble.
Jade's lips split in an easy grin. He almost looks like Floyd. "You were saying?"
"Shut up." With a weak scowl, you swipe the spoon from the table and scoop a bite for yourself.
He chuckles and rolls his sleeves down, buttons his jacket up, and heads for the hall. You blink, even more confused.
"Where're you going?"
"Octavinelle."
"What? But you... Jade, you haven't even eaten either. Kinda makes your point meaningless if you're gonna skip breakfast after you just told me not to."
He peeks around the corner. "What are you implying?"
You open your mouth to say, Just get back in here and eat, you asshole. But that's only part of the truth. He knows this, which is precisely why he's now refusing to move from his spot in the doorway until you've admitted it.
"Nothing. I'm just saying..."
"Yes?" he offers, smiling placidly.
Your patience has grown especially thin as of late. The smallest of things set you off. Just yesterday you started openly bawling when Jade arrived at your doorstep with a tin of cookies—cookies you'd begged him to get over text after the recommendation from Ace. You think you may be falling apart. Jade thinks you've never looked prettier.
Huffing your defeat, you avert your gaze. "Y-You don't have to leave, you know... Stay a little longer."
You expect him to tease you for it, to really lay it on so thick that you'll have no choice but to get up and drag him over to the table by the ear. But instead he's lowering into the chair beside you. You'd chased him out the past few times he attempted to overstay his welcome, which he'd accepted without complaint. Now he just looks happy to be here. You'll never understand him.
You scoop a spoonful of porridge and, grabbing his chin, force it at him. "And eat! You're not getting any taller."
His hand wraps around yours, smoothly guiding it to his mouth. An appreciative hum proves he's proud of the result after he's sampled it. You have to agree. It's delicious.
"And you're not getting any more beautiful."
You stare at him, embarrassment clawing up your spine. While these pleasantries aren't unusual, they still manage to catch you by surprise. Not because of the sweetness, but because he genuinely means every one.
"Actually, I take it back. I hope you starve."
Jade leans in to nudge you. "I'll learn to photosynthesize just for you and then that problem will never come to pass."
"How it only nine and you're already being an ass?"
"It's my specialty."
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ageingfangirl2 · 6 months
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Cook For A Day! Luffy (OPLA)
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Sanji gets sick and leaves y/n in charge of cooking duties. y/n is new to the crew and worries no one will like their cooking, unaware that Luffy will eat just about anything put in front of him. Luffy x Reader (Fluff)
Y/N
'y/n come here for a moment,' Sanji croaks, voice hoarse as you pass by his cabin and open the door.
Sanji knew it had to be you walking around the ship this early because no one else bothered to get up before sunrise, and since joining the crew only a month ago you were an early bird and liked to help Sanji in the kitchen because he also got up early.
'You sound awful Sanji, are you okay?' you ask, concerned.
Sanji coughs and you realise the cook is ill, 'I think I'm going to stay in bed today. Can you take over cooking duties for me?'
Your eyes widen at the request, 'Err, are you sure? I don't want to mess up your kitchen.'
Sanji tries to laugh but fails, 'You've watched me so I trust you. Now go get breakfast ready.'
You nod, 'Okay, but if it goes wrong I'm blaming you.'
'Shoo, now let me sleep...' Sanji mutters and yawns.
You quietly shut his door and take a deep breath. What if no one on the crew liked your cooking. They had such high expectations because Sanji was amazing. You wanted to be fully accepted so you couldn't mess things up.
Entering the kitchen your mind goes blank on what to cook. Do you play it safe and prepare something Sanji would make or experiment a little? You had a couple of hours before anyone else woke up so you had some time on your hands.
LUFFY
I was awoken by a very strange smell, it wasn't a bad smell, it just wasn't a smell I'd come across before. My stomach rumbled either way, and I knew Sanji had to be up cooking, with our new crew mate y/n helping him.
I sniff the air as I leave my quarters, the smell was coming from the kitchen and it smelt kind of spicy and warm. I passed by Sanji's room and hear snoring coming from the other side, so he was still asleep, which meant it had to be y/n in the kitchen.
y/n came from a town that I remembered having very nice food. A lot of spices and seasonings were used to flavour what could have easily been regular bland food.
Pushing open the door to the kitchen the smell of spices hit me full on, and y/n who was holding a pot yelps at my sudden appearance, but before the pot can hit the floor I stretch and catch it.
'You're up early captain,' y/n says nervously, avoiding eye contact and going back to cooking after I'd placed the pot back down.
My eyes widen seeing a lot of food on the counter in front of me, and my mouth watered merely looking at it, 'the smell woke me up, why is Sanji sleeping?'
y/n answers with their back turned to me, 'he's sick so asked me to cook. But as you can see I didn't know what to cook and now I feel like an idiot.'
I sit down and pull the nearest bowl towards me, it looks like regular porridge but has a slightly red colour, 'why did you cook so much?'
y/n's shoulders slump, 'because Sanji is an amazing cook and I want you guys to think I'm good too. I need to be useful.'
I dig into the porridge and see there was some kind of seasoning that made it both sweet and a little spicy, it would wake you up in the morning. Either way, it was delicious and I quickly finished the whole bowl and looked around the counter for my next meal.
'You're useful y/n,' I say between mouthfuls, 'people like you, you're very good at getting us out of trouble with your words. You're also good at fighting, and making delicious food.'
y/n spins around eyes wide, 'you like my cooking?'
I nod and pull a plate of cooked fish towards me, 'I like the spices and seasonings, I could eat this all day.'
y/n leans on the counter opposite me watching me stuff my face with a smile on their face. Usually by now, Sanji would have scolded me for eating while he was still cooking but y/n looked proud. y/n needed to try less hard to be liked because they were already accepted by the whole crew, but that would take time.
'I have a couple other dishes prepared if you'd like to try them, captain,' y/n suggests.
I continue to devour the plate in front of me and smirk, 'Keep them coming.'
This was the most talkative y/n had been the whole month. They were very easy to get along with and promised to bring any new dishes to me first. If y/n cooked more I might just get up earlier in the morning.
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oftenlyshitposting · 6 months
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a wolf, a warrior, and a hotspring | wolfwren fic
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"meet me here again tomorrow. at noon."
sabine finds that slumber has been kinder to her. she awoke to the hazy peridean early sun, to the smell of cookings just outside of the fulcrum. the noti people must have been up for sometime now. with the scent of food entering the ship, that means ahsoka is, too.
oh, right. she hasn't told ahsoka.
sabine rises from her bunk with a soft grunt, already fabricating a plan to sneak out of camp. she glances at the clock she and huyang constructed; the time is indicating closer towards midday. sabine leans out of her bunk to search for ahsoka and huyang, not finding either at the common table or the practice floor. the door to the cockpit was also open, showing vacant seats. they're outside then, sabine concluded.
without wasting anymore time, sabine tiptoes to the refresher for a quick wash and to get dressed. her fingers were crossed that ahsoka stays occupied until she could sneak out, but luck betrayed her. by the time sabine got out of the refresher, ahsoka was at the common table, plating some bowls that looked like breakfast and a jug of what sabine assumes as the tea she usually drinks.
"morning," ahsoka calls, her tone sounding suspiciously humoured, "had a good sleep?"
sabine scratches her hair, avoiding eyes with ahsoka. "uh, yeah. slept alright."
"that's good."
sabine nods, quickly making her way to her bunk to pack up her blasters and to put on her beskar. her periphery catches ahsoka's eyes on her, but she tries her best to ignore her master. plan A of quietly sneaking out failed, so sabine decides to just play it coolly and find the right time to sneak out again. she casually walks to grab a cup from the storage, pouring herself the tea.
"what's all this?" sabine nods at the bowls and plates at the table, sipping her tea to calm her nerves.
ahsoka pushes a bowl at sabine's direction, "late breakfast. the noti found native fruits and berries, you should try some," and made a gesture sabine interprets as an instruction for her to sit and eat.
sabine shrugs. "alright." she began scooping the bowl; it consists of some kind of mushy grain-like porridge with various haphazardly chopped fruits. the texture initially puts her off, but the taste wasn't so bad. it reminded her of some kind of pudding. "hey, where's huyang?"
"he's outside. last i saw, he was helping a noti folk fix up their little pod," ahsoka replies easily, munching on a crunchier chopped fruit. sabine hums in response, mouth a little full. ahsoka then looks at sabine inquisitively as she asks, "where'd you run off yesterday? you were gone for a really long time."
"uh, i went out to hunt?" sabine cringes internally, not intending her answer to sound unconvincing, which she follows up with, "no luck, though. no game, or stuff. but, i did find a hotspring."
"did you?"
"yep."
ahsoka's brow quirked, and sabine can't really tell what her master is thinking. "you found someone, though. didn't you?"
well, shoot. sabine doesn't really know how to deny that question, so she decides to dance around the whole truth, "yeah. baylan's blonde padawan. i ran into her at the spring. surprisingly, she didn't try to kill me."
"i can see that," ahsoka chuckled. "did something happen?" when sabine tilts her head questioningly, ahsoka adds, "i felt something shifted, in the force."
double shoot. guess plan B of sneaking out and postponing the conversation failed too. sabine sighs. "i guess so...? i... i don't know. i can feel her, and she can feel me. through the force."
"that's not uncommon. you've finally tapped into the force, making your presence known within it and to anyone who can access the force." ahsoka gestures between them, explaining further, "like how i can sense you, and you can sense me."
ahsoka's explanation makes sense. though, sabine can't help but think that there's more to the connection between her and shin. she knows that ahsoka and her have a bond, as master to padawan. it doesn't quite make sense to her as to why she would share a connection with shin; the kind of bond that they have.
thinking about their bond might have subconsciously triggers it in sabine's mind, as she finds herself reaching for shin within the force. she sees shin, on the other end of their connection, hunting with a group of the red-armoured bandits. sabine can feel shin sensing her presence in their connection.
shin pauses atop her howler, turning her head to the side where sabine is sitting inside the fulcrum. sabine's breath choked in her throat when she hears shin's voice... inside her mind?
'you missed me already?'
sabine wants to scream out loud; shin sounded unbearably cocky, like she was teasing her. and the fact that shin's voice filled her whole mind like an echo in a chamber doesn't help her clear her mind. even in an odd psychic link, shin can be infuriating.
'you wish,' sabine replied in her mind, trying to put up a convincing annoyed act. 'this happened out of my control, okay?'
shin lets out a noise that sounded like a chuckle. 'you are a lousy liar, if you did not know already.' when sabine was about to protest her, shin interrupts, 'as much as i enjoy to watch you try to lie your way out, i am in the middle of hunting. you, are a distraction.'
sabine rolled her eyes, disconnecting herself from the freaky little mind connection thing. she almost choked on her tea when she finds ahsoka looking at her with such a knowing look. sabine finds it oddly infuriating and similar to shin. she hid her face behind her cup, shooting an unamused glare back.
"what?"
ahsoka smiles, and sabine has a bad feeling about it. "you were with her just know, weren't you?"
sabine chokes, "i- what are you–?" she sputters with flushing cheeks. she then manages, "how did you...?"
"well, you went quiet for a while," ahsoka points out the obvious with a smile, sipping her tea, "and i felt the presence of someone else briefly. someone you ran into rather frequently, on top of that."
"that's great," sabine grumbles. "so, the cost of using the force is no privacy for my mind, got it." perhaps she should learn the whole force mind-shield trick, if it's possible to learn it this early.
ahsoka laughs. "relax. i wasn't in your mind, ever." she then makes a move to stand, placing a hand on sabine's shoulder as she says, "i only felt something in the force, and i put two and two together."
sabine pouts, but didn't say anything to that. she opts to finish her bowl of food quickly, knowing ahsoka is going to prepare her for more training. when she finished eating, she quickly cleans the table and brought the dishes to get it cleaned.
ahsoka was preparing the practice floor by the time sabine finishes cleaning up, presumably for meditation training. not exactly sabine's most favourite part of training, but she really doesn't have much to say as a padawan. perhaps ahsoka might teach her how to not let other people look into her brain, that would be neat.
it was a few hours later when ahsoka concurred sabine's training for the day. her master had thrown in a little zatochi session post meditation, testing if her senses are more honed in than the first time sabine did it. to ahsoka's pleasure, sabine did improve when it comes to sensing ahsoka's intents. didn't entirely surprise ahsoka that sabine still falls victim to getting frustrated easily, resulting in ahsoka tripping her again.
"going to meet her again?" ahsoka called out as sabine was packing up a bag, smiling teasingly as she leans against the backrest of the common table.
sabine rolled her eyes. "oh, ha-ha."
"sabine, relax, it doesn't bother me what you do in your spare time." her togrutan master laughs, amused at sabine's defensiveness. ahsoka reaches over to a storage compartment, taking out the large fur coat that she doesn't wear, handing it to sabine. "take this. give it to her."
"what? why?" sabine frowns, looking down at the coat. she recalls that shin has her own cape thing that she wore to the hotspring yesterday.
ahsoka steps closer, her expression a little serious. "it's better used with her than it stays here, gathering dust. and sabine?" when sabine raised her brows expectantly, ahsoka continues, "ask her if she'd like to stay with us."
sabine eyes widened, unexpecting ahsoka's request. "wh– what do you mean 'stay with us'? why?"
"her master's abandoned her. she's alone."
"not as alone as you might think," sabine scoffs, petulant. "she's running with the bandits."
ahsoka shoots her a look, unimpressed. "you know that is not what i meant." she sighs patiently. "you can feel her, more than i do. you know what she feels, her emotions and her thoughts."
"yeah, i guess so..."
"and you of all people, knows best what it's like when your master walks away from you."
and there it is, the final strike home. sabine groans, "y'know, i hate it when you're right about things."
ahsoka laughs, deep and low in her torso. she pats sabine's shoulder and gave it an assuring squeeze. "i'm not always, and you know this. just try, sabine. she just needs someone at the moment."
"you think that someone is me?" sabine raises her brow, uncertain and expectant. ahsoka doesn't answer immediately, and sabine nods somewhat understandingly.
"you saw how she reacted when i offered my help the first time," ahsoka recounts to their last battle, where shin had looked so defeated and fled her and sabine. "i didn't believe she was ready then. but, like most things in life, we sometimes just needs to give it a little bit of time. i think she is more ready now, and with the right person," she nods at sabine, who pursed her lips in a tight-lipped smile, "she may accept our help."
sabine sighed, long and drawn. "alright, fine." the mandalorian grabs the fur coat, stuffing it in her bag. she huffs as she saddles the bag, walking towards the landing ramp. "i'll try to talk to her, but i can't promise anything. and if she kills me, you're responsible for murley!"
ahsoka merely laughs amusedly. "go!"
sabine waves at her master, before disappearing towards her howler and hops onto it's saddled back. her companion animal instantly takes off on it's strong legs, racing towards where it took her yesterday. sabine was tempted to search for shin again in their bond, but restrains herself and hopes that the blonde padawan will be there anyway.
her howler's speed began to decrease as the path to the hotspring becomes familiar to sabine's eyes. she scouts the surrounding, naturally out of instinct, for any bandits or nuisance that she'd have to fight off. the mandalorian sighs in relief when she saw nothing, and more importantly, sensed nothing dangerous in the force.
sabine hops off from her howler, keeping a gentle guiding hand on it's neck as they walk closer towards the spring. she finds a patch of thicker grass and softly commands 'tota' at her howler, unloading her bag and the sack of food for her howler. she scratches it's snout with a smile as it munches on the food sabine brought, whinying joyfully.
"you actually made it here again."
shin's voice filled sabine's surrounding and mind, and sabine wasn't even remotely surprised. she had sensed her arrival a few moments ago. and before she can say anything smart, shin had stolen the moment from her. sabine huffs amusedly.
"aw, were you expecting me to bail?" sabine teases with a smirk, turning from her howler to find shin. the blonde padawan is atop her white howler, head held high as always, and a ghost of a smirk on her lips. something felt a little off, though.
shin barely huffs out a laugh, sounding more like a restricted exhale. sabine watches closely; shin's arm is circled around her waist. like she's holding something in. sabine frowns, strutting closer towards shin, her skin breaking in sweat and her lips looking a little paler.
sabine then feels it; a pounding pain across her abdomen, the same area shin is clutching onto.
shin's tunic is leaking in red, sabine only now realises.
"shin!" sabine frantically approaches shin, wincing as she feels shin's pain on her body. the blonde padawan tries to get down from her howler, but could barely hold herself together. sabine commands the white howler 'tota' so she can help shin come down easier. "y-you're bleeding. what happened?"
shin grunts, pushing herself off of her howler. "i... we ran into a different group of bandits." her face contorts in pain as sabine lays her down on the ground, arm still clutching her bleeding abdomen. "they were not friendly." shin attempted at a joke, sabine assumes, but it came out as a whisper.
"i need you to remove your clothes." sabine hadn't realised what she blurted out, only registering what she said half a moment later, when shin looked at her with an incredulous and amused look. she tries composing herself as she says, "i brought a medkit, i'll wrap you up."
shin doesn't say anything, only nodding. sabine takes the sign to scramble back to her howler, grabbing her bag and searches for the medkit. she hopes it's sufficient enough to dress shin's wound, because if it's more serious, she'd need to take her to the fulcrum's medbay. that's about two dozens klicks from here, and sabine isn't sure shin can hold off that long of a journey back.
sabine returns to shin, laid on her back with the top part of tunic undressed. with it, reveals shin's wounded stomach. the injury is caked with a layer of crusted blood, mostly browned from oxidation, but still slightly leaking. sabine winces as she gauges the depth of shin's injury, but it's hard to conclude with the amount of blood covering the wound.
"i'm gonna start cleaning it up, okay?" sabine warns shin as she prepared a disinfecting kit, in which shin merely nodded weakly in response to. "it's gonna be a bit painful, so tell me if it's too much."
"do it," shin grunts, preparing herself. when the disinfectant grazes her injured skin, shin barked out a long and painful groan. sabine winces when shin grabs her arm, seemingly out of painful instinct. shin's body writhes as sabine continues wiping the bloodied wound, head thrown back whilst her eyes shut tightly in an agonizing manner. her eyes bolted open in a frenzy as she growled out, "fuck!"
sabine whispers calming phrases that she can remember in mando'a, working quickly and precisely on shin's injury. once cleaned, sabine can finally measure the depth of the gash on shin's stomach, and deduces it isn't as deep as she thought. it definitely requires stitching, and with limited kit, sabine had to resort to the quick-stitcher.
shin had gone quieter, huffing barely audible grunts. watching shin this awfully pale and unusually languid terrified sabine; she's always used to viewing shin as this indestructible force, that she's forgotten shin too, can bleed. her chest rises and falls in an arrhythmic pattern, lips pale and eyes sunken in.
"hey. shin?" sabine gently touches her shoulder, and shin sluggishly moves her head to face her. she smiles, tight-lipped and half apologetic. "i'm gonna stitch you up quickly, yeah?"
"alright." shin nods weakly, dropping her head back to the side again, facing away from sabine.
sabine sanitizes the quick-stitcher, a stapler-like device, and applies a topical numbing gel around the gash. shin hisses at the contact, but exhales softly afterwards. sabine works her way quickly, stitching shin's wound closed. the numbing gel works, sabine can tell from the way shin merely jumps at the first few stitches but didn't groan in pain.
when the last stitch was applied, sabine applies healing ointments before she props shin up to a raised position as she quickly wraps shin's wound with a sterile gauze neatly. sabine reaches to a boulder nearby through the force, placing it behind shin so the blonde padawan can lean her back against it to support her body.
"okay," sabine said in a relieved half-whisper, haphazardly storing her equipments back to the medkit box, "there. you're all good."
shin was quiet for a bit, huffing a long drawn-out breath. her eyes slowly opens, and sabine can guess she's slightly disoriented and hazy. shin's hand raised to hold her neatly bandaged torso, still partially naked as her tunic hangs open on her shoulder.
"this was not how i expected the day to go." shin winces as she tries sitting more upright, making a move to redo her tunic. the tone of her voice is indecipherable, but if sabine dared to guess, she sounds somewhat embarrassed of herself.
sabine's lips quirk to a half smile, sitting properly. "yeah, well. i don't think anyone ever really plans to get ambushed by a group of rogue bandits, huh?"
shin rolls her eyes weakly. "you are really not as funny as you think, did you know that?"
"you have a really funny way of saying thanks, did y'know that?" sabine returns with a cock of her brow. that earned her a faint disgusted look from shin, making her snort. she nudges shin, teasing but careful not to hurt the wound. "i did, just save you from bleeding out."
"you are infuriatingly confusing," shin sighs, leaning her head back against the rock behind her, but smiling at sabine nonetheless, "but i appreciate your help. you worked quick enough that it was not torturous for me."
this time, sabine rolled her eyes at shin's dry joke. "ha-ha. maybe i should have, if you wanted me to hurt you that much."
shin doesn't say anything, her faint smile shifts a little more somberly as her lidded eyes stays fixated on sabine's. the mandalorian sinks into shin's darkened greenish-blue eyes, couldn't tear her eyes away even if she wants to. not like she wants to, anyway. shin's pupils are slightly blown, but her gaze is strong. it reminded sabine when she stared at her at the shuttle ship, descending from morgan's golden hyperspace donut.
"what is in your head?" shin mutters with her usual tilt of her head, voice slightly scratched and accent heavy on her tongue. her evergrowing pale fringes are sticking to her forehead, edges poking her lids. sabine couldn't stop herself from brushing them away gently with the pads of her fingers.
sabine smiles. "aren't you usually in it? 'soka told me everyone can hop into my brain now, because i can access the force."
shin had this ghost of an unimpressed look on her face that sabine finds mildly hilarious. "just because we are intertwined in the force, doesn't mean i know what you are always thinking. your mind is always... a forest. a colourful and loud forest."
sabine typically doesn't blush this easily, but the things shin says or do makes it really hard for her to contain her flustered reactions. she had to actively fight her blush down so she wouldn't turn half as red as her hair when she was twenty six.
"uh, thanks?" sabine manages lamely, losing any remaining ounces of eloquency. when shin had this barely readable expression on her face, something that sabine tries to decipher as amusement, she tries to shift topic, "anyways. i was about to hop in for a relaxing dip before i had to stop you from spilling your whole guts out, literally."
shin rolled her eyes at sabine's joke, earning a satisfied smirk from the mandalorian. she then tries to get up, which immediately sprung sabine to help. "a soak in the hotspring does sound nice."
sabine tries to sit shin back down. "whoa, hey. what do you think you're doing?"
"going for a dip."
"uh, not with a big ass gash on your stomach, you won't?"
"you dressed it already." shin stubbornly retorted.
sabine groans, exasperated. "yeah, and it'll undress if you go for a soak, di'kut."
shin's brows dipped, contorting in a mild confusion and surprise. "what?"
"your bandage. it's gonna get ruined–"
"no, i know that," shin quickly interrupted sabine, inching closer in an unlikely speed towards the mandalorian's space, ultimately sending sabine backward out of reflex. shin's eyes narrowed. "you said something earlier. in an alien language."
"ali– huh?" sabine face contorts in confusion, before things began to click in her mind. "what, di'kut?" she repeated the word at shin, who nods in confirmation. sabine snorts. "that's a mando'a word. it means 'idiot'. because you were."
shin's brow furrowed, and sabine swears her bottom lip quirked up to a pouty frown. "i am not an idiot."
sabine shoots shin an unimpressed look, which the blonde padawan returns with an empty glare. "you literally wanted to soak in a hotspring after someone tore your whole stomach open."
"didn't you dress my wound with a waterproof gauze? it should keep dry for a few hours."
"i-" sabine tries to argue, but shin did have a point. the mandalorian sighed. even if she had better argument points, shin most likely would have ignored sabine and do as she wishes anyway. "alright, fine. but, if your bandage undressed and your wound reopens, you best believe i'll make it hurt when i have to restitch it."
shin quirked her brows in a manner sabine interprets as impressed. the blonde padawan smirks wolfishly. "is that a threat?"
sabine wants to wipe that infuriatingly attractive smirk on shin's face so badly. the mandalorian leans closer towards shin, closing the already small space between them, her eyes darting towards shin's now vanishing smirk. sabine's eyes finds shin's stellar blue eyes as she tilts the blonde padawan by her chin.
"it can be a promise."
sabine swears, for a miniscule split of seconds, shin's pupils dilated and she can hear the soft hitch of her breath; like it was caught in her throat.
shin huffs, amused. "i'll be waiting for it then."
sabine scoffs, but shin had ignored her. shin unclasps her armour and stacking them neatly beside her rock, struggling to lean forward to strip away the lower part of her clothes and armour. shin had kicked off her boots, and is now left with her tight fitting black tank and her matching underwear.
"are you gonna keep staring at me?"
shin's voice snaps sabine out of her blatant staring, turning away with the speed of light to hide her blush. to stop herself from thinking about shin undressing in front of her, sabine immediately began taking off her beskar, one plate at a time.
sabine heard shin rustling behind her, attempting to stand and walk on her own. she had to turn, and saw shin wobbling unsteadily on her feet, but after a few steps, she regained a somewhat more stable stride. when shin finally got into the water, sabine had just finished stripping out of her jumpsuit. she left her beskar pieces neatly next to shin's own armour.
the hotspring feels a lot warmer than yesterday, but it isn't like the heat is intolerable. shin had sat herself down closer towards the deeper parts, the clear water stopping just at her collarbones. her eyes are closed as she dips her head back into the water, and comes back up swiftly. she wipes away water and stray hair clinging to her face, and sighed.
"the water just fine for you?" sabine asks as she dives headfirst, feeling the warmth prickling her cold cheeks. she resurface with a gasp, brushing purple locks away from her face and swims towards shin.
shin hums, eyes still closed. sabine couldn't help but watch shin's throat bobs up and down, and nearly drowned herself after catching herself doing it. shin's voice is soft when she spoke: "the springwater feels nice. i find this place to be a sanctuary in the midst of this wasteland of a planet."
sabine swims closer, stopping herself only a few inches away from shin. "yeah?"
shin nodded, finally peeling her eyes open. her gaze finds sabine's, and sabine began to wonder why are shin's eyes so captivating that she couldn't look away even if she tries. her aquamarine eyes began to roam sabine's face, dancing all over to find whatever it is shin is trying to find, before settling on her lower lip for a few seconds.
sabine feels shin reaching out to her, spread out in thr force. she reached towards shin, trying to meet her in the middle. her eyes almost rolled shut when she finds shin within the force, feeling an intense wave of warmth washing over her whole body.
shin is pulling her closer.
sabine hadn't even realised that she was physically padding towards shin's body until she opens her eyes and finds herself in between shin's legs. her face was much too close to shin's face, but shin isn't showing signs of protest. the blonde padawan's skin has regained some colour from sitting in the hotspring that she lost from the injury, and sabine finds herself staring unashamedly at shin's lips.
it's safe to say that shin barely noticed anything from sabine, because she's also much too occupied eyeing sabine's own lips hungrily. their bond in began to pulse and pull each other in as they feel each other and the ever growing tension that seems amplified. shin had already engulfed sabine in the force with her own tendril-like connection, wrapping her in an intense wave of pleasure and warmth.
"shin…" sabine couldn't stop a breathy whine laced underneath as she says the other padawan's name, the sound escaped her lips straight into shin's mind.
shin winces when sabine wraps herself around shin through their bond, and for a fraction of seconds, the mandalorian was worried she might have hurt shin. alas, with the way shin is grabbing onto sabine's hips, sabine can easily concur that it isn't out of pain. shin's skin burns under her touch, and not because of the warmth of the water surrounding them.
sabine hadn't even realised her body was being yanked forward and found herself seated atop of shin, suddenly looking down into a pair of darkened blue-greenish eyes and drowning into her.
shin's eyes flickered from sabine's down to her lips again before coming back up to meet her again. there's raw and hungry need behind those eyes; sabine doesn't even need to look at shin's eyes to know. sabine ran the pad of her thumb against shin's lower lip, almost sighing when her lips nibbled against her thumb.
she can feel shin; everything that shin is feeling.
shin's lips tremble against sabine's thumb, leaving her lips parted expectantly, and sabine is actively fighting the urge to slip her thumb inside. instead, she drags her thumb down to shin's chin, tilting her up even further. a surprised whine escaped shin.
"sabine…"
sabine shuts her eyes again. she reels in the way shin had said her name in the exact same way as she did yesterday; the way it sends chills up her spine and warmth down her abdomen. shin's grip on her hips tightened, threatening to dip lower. sabine couldn't help but smirk when she opens her eyes again, finding a new and much more satisfying look on shin's eyes.
shin is desperate; oozing with so much want.
"tell me," sabine whispered just above shin's lips, pulling back when the blonde padawan chases after her lips; smiling so teasingly as she hovers above, "what do you want, shin? use your words, cyar'ika."
a soft grunt escaped shin's lips, going straight into sabine's mouth, incoherent, but sabine heard it fine. "i need to kiss you."
sabine smiles, satisfied. her hand finds the side of shin's head, fingers gripping her mane of blonde as she dives her lips into shin's hungry ones. she can feel shin instantaneously grabbing her by her ass and pulls her closer into the open mouthed kiss, moaning from her touch straight into shin's throat.
shin is impatient; jagged and hurried, as she devours sabine whole. her teeth found flesh so easily and efortlessly as sabine allows her to nip and bite on her bottom lip. sabine tasted shin's pure, unadulterated raw need and want bleeding into her tongue, gripping into shin's neck and hair like a lifeline.
everything felt explosive; within her, within shin, and the area around them. their bond heightened every single senses in their body and tuning them to each other and everything surrounding them. it's sending sabine to a huge overdrive.
sabine began to wince in a mix of pleasure and pain; everything pricks at her skin but it feels so good at the same time. her fingers slipped further into the back of shin's head, yanking her hard enough to pull shin out of their hungry kiss. shin, much like a hungry animal, instantly chased for skin when they separated from the kiss, her lips and teeth latching onto sabine's pulse.
"shin... it's–" sabine chokes a moan when shin sucks just right on her pulse point, "fuck… shin... we need–" a louder moan escaped her, unsure why, "shin, it's t-too much now… we need to stop… shin!"
sabine's words fell on deaf ears as shin ignores her and kept her mouth busy on her collarbones, hands roaming on her ass like it's the only thing keeping shin alive. sabine wishes she could give in to the pleasure, but the pain is getting unbearable. the hand on shin's neck pushed her down hard enough, eliciting a surprised choked moan from shin.
sabine had to pretend that the noise didn't arouse her so much more than shin already did.
"shin, we need to p-pull away..." sabine hisses sternly through pain and pleasure. when she felt the bond between them pulsing again, she had to fight back another moan. "shin, pull away. right now."
shin regained a little more coherency and restraint at the urgency in sabine's tone, nodding as she began to slowly detach herself from sabine, physically and through the force.
somehow, pulling away from each other has become more painful than when they were engulfed in each other. shin growled carnally while sabine is on the other end, clutching her whole body in her arms because of the pain.
sabine immediately shuts off the bridge between them the same time as shin did, and much like yesterday, they both laid on opposite ends with bated and uneven breaths. shin laid flat on her back against the edges of the spring, whereas sabine was on her stomach and propped on her arms weakly.
"shin," sabine breathlessly called, trying to crawl closer towards shin. she gargled on the water, choking out, "are you okay?"
shin grunts as she rises from the water. "i'm alright." she turns to find sabine beside her. "you do not look or sound as alright."
sabine shush her as she tries dragging her body upwards, flipping over wetly so she's on her back. "shut up. not everyone who just had what felt like force-sex on spice gets to walk away as easily as you do, okay? i think i fried a bunch of my nerves."
"i see you've found your eloquency back."
"fuck you."
shin kinked a brow, amused. "didn't you already?"
sabine shot her a glare, but with the flushed cheeks, it's really not putting much effect. "shin hati, i swear i'll shoot you with my blaster if you keep talking."
sabine swears she saw shin's cheeks and neck flush a faint red, but doesn't think much about it, blaming it on the heat of the hotspring. speaking of necks, sabine starts to feel the dull throb of where shin had latched on her skin, groaning loudly.
"please tell me you didn't leave any marks," sabine moans as she touches the tender spots.
shin eyes sabine's neck, a ghost of her infuriating smirk began to haunt over her lips. guiltlessly, shin says, "there are some red marks all over."
"oh, come on! i bruise easily, shin!"
"you are a lot more adorable than i thought, then."
sabine grumbled loudly, but can't really bring herself to be actually mad at shin. "i really am going to shoot you with my blaster one day."
shin tilts her head back. "i will be waiting on that." she then slowly starts to rise from the water, walking slightly bent forward while clutching her bandaged wound. sabine watches with narrowed eyes as shin struts towards their pile of clothes and armour.
sabine had suspected something, immediately rising from the water to chase shin. shin quirked her brows, expression confused, but her body is shifted away from sabine's eyes as shin fumbles over with her tunic and pants.
sabine crossed arms. "your wound opened, didn't it." when shin ignored her, sabine grabbed her by her hips to look for the injury. and sure enough, the now soaking bandage is seeping with red right where shin's wound is at. "i told you it'll reopen."
shin merely shrugs, putting on her pants and tunic over her wet clothes. she began clasping up her armour pieces, while sabine huffs and puts on her own jumpsuit, skipping her beskar pieces. she takes out the large fur coat in her bag to make room for her beskar, tossing the coat at shin.
"what is this for?" shin asks, puzzled.
sabine zips up her jumpsuit. "put it on. it's almost nightfall and it'll get cold. you're coming back with me to my camp."
shin frowns. "no. i will go back to my own."
"shin, for fuck's sake," sabine groaned, unamused, "your wound is open. you come back to your camp with a gaping wound like that, and i'll have to look for your cold body tomorrow. i doubt the bandit's camp is crawling around with medkits or droids." when shin is unmoving, sabine sighs, speaking softer, "come with me. just for the night. deal?"
shin was quiet for a few beats, before sighing curtly. "fine. just for tonight."
sabine nodded, helping shin get up on her howler. "stay slumped over so your stitches won't get any more loose."
shin nodded quietly, and sabine hops onto her howler, guiding the white howler behind her as they make their way back to the fulcrum and the noti camp. sabine made a couple turns to look back at shin, making sure she didn't fall off her howler, and was relieved each time shin stays slumped over. her white howler is swift, but is gentle with shin.
they made it back to the fulcrum in only a couple of minutes, and sabine quickly got down from her howler to help shin come down from hers. sabine saddles her bag on one shoulder, and props shin on her other shoulder as they walk into the fulcrum's landing ramp.
"huyang!!" sabine yells into the fulcrum and drops her bag haphazardly. "is the med droid online?"
huyang appeared from the lightsaber parts storage room, halted in his track as he finds an awkwardly standing sabine with shin on her shoulder, looking at him expectantly and impatiently.
"i believe it's rebooting. i'll go and check it."
sabine mutters a small 'thanks' as she drags shin towards the medbay, the sliding door hissing open and the whiff of sanitary disinfectant hits both of their nostrils. shin wrinkles her nose, disagreeing with the scent, but made no comments.
"c'mon, let's get you up on the bed."
sabine hurriedly unclasped the fur coat and diligently undoes shin's damp tunic. she turns to the shelf to grab a pair of scissors to rip open shin's bandage, tossing the damp and bloodied gauze away. she snips away at the quick-stitches and threw them. she was preparing a disinfecting wipe when the door slides open and revealed an inquisitive ahsoka.
"sabine?"
"oh, hey, 'soka." sabine nods at her master. she then began to dab the disinfectant wipe on shin's without warning or preparation.
shin instantly growled, "fuck, sabine!!" while yanking on the sleeves of sabine's jumpsuit. the blonde padawan threw her head back in pain, before shooting a rabid glare at sabine as she spits, "a warning would be nice."
sabine rolled her eyes, ignoring shin. "i told you. if your wound reopens, i'll make the restitching hurt. you wanted my promise, didn't you?"
"fuck you." shin barely hissed it out because she had to throw her head back in pain when sabine pressed the wipe on her wound harder, groaning loudly.
"lady wren, the medic droid is online." huyang calls from the doorway, just behind ahsoka. "do you still need it's assistance?"
"no."
shin glares at sabine, borderline murderous. sabine thinks it's familiar to when they first met.
ahsoka steps in, lucky for shin. "let the droid work. sabine? a word."
sabine nods, tossing her wipes away. she sneers at shin. "you're lucky tonight, shin." she skids over to let the medic droid in to the medbay, grabbing huyang by his metallic arm, softly whispering, "keep an eye on her, will you?"
huyang nods, and sabine left shin with the droids in the medbay as she struts towards the common table with ahsoka sat on it. sabine pours two cups of tea, and slides the other cup at ahsoka while she sips on her own cup.
sabine was the first to ask. "what's up?"
"did you fight her?" ahsoka nods at the medbay.
"no, i found her like that. said she ran into a different kind of bandits and someone nearly gutted her." sabine sets down her cup, crossing her arm forward. "i patched her up, but the stitches were loose. had to bring her here, else she'd spill her whole intenstines out."
ahsoka nods, slow and processing. she sighs, and sabine isn't quite sure what that meant. "do you trust her, sabine?"
"shin?" sabine's brow quirked, chuckling. "she's harmless as a loth kitten. a bit feral, but a kitten, nonetheless."
"did she come with willingly?" ahsoka shifts to face sabine, curious.
sabine shrugs. "only for the night. i don't know about next, but that's a problem for tomorrow." the mandalorian stretches her arms up high, feeling her muscles tightening in coils. "she can have my bunk, i'll sleep at the cockpit."
ahsoka chuckles. "no, you won't. stay with her."
"what do you mean stay with her?" sabine had whipped her head at ahsoka in a speed of light.
"no need to pretend like you don't like staying by her side when you're with me, padawan," ahsoka teases sabine, nudging her shoulder as she heads towards the medbay. her togrutan master had an amused look in her eyes that sabine does not like, and it doesn't help stopping herself from getting flustered. "i'm gonna have a sit down talk with her for a bit."
the medbay door closes, and sabine groans. there's really no arguing with ahsoka at this point, so sabine heads to the bunks to clear out her bunk. she shuts the door to the bunks to change from her jumpsuit to a more casual, loose fitting sleepwear clothes. subconsciously, she draws another pair of light shaded sleepwear clothes for their guest.
sabine gets out of the bunks to grab her bag and unpack her beskar pieces and stores them properly. she scatters her armguards and blasters on the common table, inspecting and polishing her weapons.
she reloaded her blasters with new rounds, and was in the middle of inspecting her armguards when the medbay door hissed open, producing ahsoka and a topless shin, with neatly stitched stomach.
sabine had to forcibly peel her eyes off of shin, and catches ahsoka telling shin, "rest for the night. we can discuss more in the morning."
shin doesn't say much, only nodding at ahsoka. sabine watches as her master gently pats shin's shoulder in a similar gesture as ahsoka always does to sabine. ahsoka heads towards the cockpit and shutting the door, leaving the two padawans in an awkward silence in the common table. huyang had left elsewhere, probably going to low power mode after rebooting the medic droid.
sabine looks at shin, who was already staring at her. the mandalorian leaves her weapons on the common table, grabbing shin by her hands to drag them towards the bunks and shutting the door behind. shin stood like a lost puppy, half naked, so sabine hands her the pair of sleep clothes.
"put these on," sabine instructed, kinking her brows, "what happened to your tunic?"
shin puts on the loose sleeveless shirt, struggling slightly due to the fresh stitches. sabine tries not to think of how adorable shin is with dishevelled hair. "your droid took it to get it cleaned. he insisted."
sabine laughs. "ah, yeah. that's huyang for you."
shin looks around curiously, holding her pauldrons. "where should i put my armour?"
"just put it on the storage compartment over there." sabine yawned, stretching her back. "you go ahead and sleep on my bunk. i'm gonna take the spare."
"and your master?"
"ahsoka? she seems content with sleeping in the cockpit. i don't blame her. she purrs in her sleep."
shin had an incredulous look on her face, but didn't comment on it. she sighs as she strips off her pants to switch into the matching sleep pants sabine gave her, before tucking into sabine's bunk. sabine watches curiously as shin squeezes far into the wall, leaving space beside her, turning to look at sabine expectantly.
"there's more than enough space here."
"what, you want me to sleep with you?"
shin shot her a look. "do not pretend like you weren't considering it. i can still feel your thoughts."
sabine tries to argue, but purses her lips anyway. she huffs, taming down the blush rising on her chest. "fine, alright. stop peeping into my brain."
shin shuffles as sabine lays down beside her, a faint smirk curling up her lips. "i am not. besides, there isn't much to look into anyway."
sabine wanted to say something snarky back at shin, but watching shin with her dishevelled hair and face much too close than sabine expected, she couldn't stop herself from letting her gaze drop to shin's lips. without thinking, sabine caught shin's lips in hers, smirking in satisfaction when shin made a noise akin to a soft mewl. it was swiftly replaced with shin kissing her back hungrily in rushed little pecks.
"eager, aren't we?" sabine mutters in half-whispers against shin's lips, pulling back teasingly when she frustratedly tries to chase sabine's lips. she supressed a moan when one of shin's hands grips at her hip, rewarding the blonde padawan with another kiss and tugs at her now reddening lower lip.
shin doesn't reply verbally, opting to slot one of her thighs between sabine's, humming in satisfaction when the mandalorian instinctively bucked her hips against her. when she spoke again, her voice is husked and low, "you were saying?"
sabine sighed, finding shin's hungry gaze again.
oh, this is definitely going to be a long night.
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strictlyfavorites · 1 year
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They used to use urine to tan animal skins, so families used to all pee in a pot & then once a day it was taken & sold to the tannery. If you had to do this to survive you were "piss poor."
But worse than that were the really poor folk who couldn't even afford to buy a pot; they "didn't have a pot to piss in" & were the lowest of the low.
The next time you are washing your hands & complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be. Here are some facts about the 1500s.
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May, and they still smelled pretty good by June. Since they were starting to smell, however, brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odor. Hence the custom today of carrying a bouquet when getting married.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women, and finally the children. Last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it . . . hence the saying, "Don't throw the baby out with the Bath water!"
Houses had thatched roofs-thick straw-piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof, resulting in the idiom, "It's raining cats and dogs."
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could mess up your nice clean bed, therefore, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, leading folks to coin the phrase "dirt poor."
The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they added more thresh until, when you opened the door, it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entrance-way, subsequently creating a "thresh hold."
In those old days, they cooked in the kitchen with a big kettle that always hung over the fire.. Every day they lit the fire and added things to the pot. They ate mostly vegetables and did not get much meat. They would eat the stew for dinner, leaving leftovers in the pot to get cold overnight and then start over the next day. Sometimes stew had food in it that had been there for quite a while, and thus the rhyme, "Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old."
Sometimes they could obtain pork, which made them feel quite special. When visitors came over, they would hang up their bacon to show off. It was a sign of wealth that a man could, "bring home the bacon." They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and "chew the fat."
Those with money had plates made of pewter. Food with high acid content caused some of the lead to leach onto the food, causing lead poisoning death. This happened most often with tomatoes, so for the next 400 years or so, tomatoes were considered poisonous.
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or the "upper crust."
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whisky. The combination would sometimes knock the imbibers out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial.. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up, creating the custom of holding a wake.
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a bone-house, and reuse the grave. When reopening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive, so they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell. Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the graveyard shift.) to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be, saved by the bell or was considered a dead ringer.
And that's the truth. Now, whoever said History was boring?
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