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levis-little-nuggie · 3 years

Note

hi! i just saw the post about requests and could you write some fluffy sex headcanons with the brothers? we don't really see stuff like that so i thought i'd ask

Bless you nonny for the request 💜💜 this uh, turned out a lot longer than I had anticipated, probably because I haven't written anything in a good while 😅

Asmo and Belphie will have their own posts 💜

Nsft, obviously, so everything is under the Read More. I made the reader as gender neutral and inclusive as I could. Please let me know if at any point, I was exclusive.

Fluffy Sex Headcanons of the Demon Brothers

(minus Asmo and Belphie)

Lucifer

This man will top or bottom solely dependent upon what you want. Sex with him is moreso about pleasing his partner than just getting off. His preferences are fine tuned to your desires and your body’s limits. Lucifer’s sin feeds off of the immense pride a lover feels when they know you and your body better than you do

He may act cold and aloof in public and in front of others, coming off as stoic and arrogant, but it’s a completely different story behind closed doors.

However you want him, he’ll comply. You’ve done the impossible and captured his heart. Don’t let this old man and his brown shoes fool you, he’ll drown you in passion.

He’ll gladly play the Dom role, but he’ll also gladly be your sub as well.

If you’re into BDSM and prefer him to Dom, you can expect an intensive aftercare routine that would rival Asmo’s. It’s not that he doesn’t like hurting you or pushing you to your limits, he just wants to reward you for being so good for him and wants to remind you how much he loves you.

If you’re into BDSM and prefer to Dom yourself, go crazy! While you would be capable of marking and bruising his skin, you can’t physically hurt or break him beyond light scratches. He can break out of whatever restraints you put him, even if they are demon-grade. You would need actual spells to diminish his strength to put him on par with a lower-class demon if you wanted him to actually feel any real pain, but if it’s what you want, he’ll do it. Expect a conversation beforehand about what you want and how he can do that for you. He wants there to be clear communication so he knows how best to serve you in the moments to come.

Sure the sex is fantastic, but he’ll show you how much he loves you in the tender moments after. The afterglow is his favorite part, both of you basking in the remnants of pleasure coursing through you, the physical numbness, and the swell of feel-good chemicals swirling through your bodies. This is when he’ll hold you closest, pepper your skin with kisses unable to stop himself, he’ll play with your hair if you have it, his eyes will be bright, his smile will be unrestrained. He may even start humming a long-forgotten lullaby or your favorite song as he rests his head against your chest, hearing your heartbeat in blissful content until one of you decides it’s time to get cleaned up.

No matter how long the day has been, the amount of hours he’s put into all that damn paperwork, he’ll always make time to pamper you after sex. If you prefer to shower alone, he’ll let you go first and have the bed ready with new, clean sheets and clean towels set out for you when you’re done. Prefer to sleep with pajamas? He has a drawer dedicated to your favorite things along with some new ones he bought for you.

Mammon

Ah yes, the tsundere. The dumbass in the streets, dumbass in the sheets. The one who has more hair-brained ideas than he does fingers and toes in one week. One of the greatest banes of Lucifer’s existence.

His push and pull personality might have you questioning the validity of his feelings, but I believe that Mammon wouldn’t be partaking in fluffy sex at all unless he was absolutely smitten.

With how his brothers treat him, he’s reluctant to open his heart to you and fully accept that at some point, you won’t start insulting him either. However, equipped with the sin of greed, Mammon’s completely helpless when you compliment and reassure him.

His standoffish attitude is a front, a feeble attempt to keep up his reputation as “The Great Mammon,” but he’s got himself wrapped around your finger before he even realizes it and that facade would melt away instantly at your smallest of smiles, a kiss on his cheek or back of his hand, a surprise compliment, anything that makes his heart skip a beat.

Of the brothers, he has one of the weakest composers around you mainly because he’s also one of the horniest.

Sex with Mammon can be rushed; a quickie between classes, a broken composure that has him feeling dehydrated for you, a clash of tongues and teech and a burning desire that encompasses both of you until you find release.

However, the sweetest and fluffiest sex with Mammon would be when either of you are feeling emotionally vulnerable.

He’ll treat you like you’re the greatest treasure to have ever existed in all three realms, with a delicacy as if you’re fragile because he knows he can be careless and reckless. He’ll be in his head a lot making sure he’s taking care of you, that you feel good, doing his damndest to keep you satisfied so there’s no room in your heart to doubt him. He’ll do whatever it takes to keep that sparkle in your eye when you look at him, to never lose you and never have to experience the day you realize his brothers have been right all along.

And I mean he’ll do whatever and however. Any wish is his command, but you’ll have more work cut out for you if you suggest the both of you participating in a threesome or more. He wants you all to himself, it’s his greed, but it’s your reassurance and validation that will have him like putty in your hand.

He’s more than okay with both of you falling asleep in your mess, but more often than not, he’ll wait until you’ve dozed off to clean up. In these moments, he takes the time to worship every inch of your skin, like polishing a priceless jewel. His intentions are pure, most of the time, he just likes to wait till you’re asleep so there’s no chance for you to tease him about it. It also allows his greed to soak up your peaceful expression, the way your body reaches out to him after he’s finished cleaning and comes back to curl up next to you.

There’s a secret photo album hidden on his phone filled with pictures of the both of you like this, your lashes against your cheeks, your freckles or sun spots, any blemishes or scars that he’s covered in kisses countless of times, your hand in his and vice versa, memories of how sweet and tender your love is, filled with emotions he struggles to put into words.

Leviathan

It all depends how you play your cards with this one. Teasing him is easy and it’ll get him all flustered, but pair that with his raging horniness and you’ll be walking a fine line between a Dom or sub Levi.

However, if it’s fluffy and sweet sex you want, treat him gently and he’ll return the favor. It’ll take a bit of time and effort to get here, on both your parts, but if you’re willing to put in the work, he’ll make it worth it. Like Mammon, this means sex will be its fluffiest when either both of you or one of you is emotionally vulnerable.

We’ve recently been blessed by the devs on a cannon description of his tail, confirming that it is snake-like with scales. This also means, however, that his tail is sensitive to touch and he has full control of its movements. During a more sweet intimacy, he likes to wrap his tail around a limb, your arm or your leg. It’s only when he’s in Dom or sub mode that he likes to use his tail in a more active manner.

It’s important for him, whether he realizes it or not, that during these moments, that he’s the one touching you, not his tail. If you ask him to use his tail too much during sex, he’ll start to think that you’re only with him because of his tail.

He’ll want to see you even though his room is dimly lit. He also knows his tub bed might not be the most comfortable so he’ll invest in a mattress to put on the floor by the tank, and a few fluffy blankets, from the Ruri-chan line of course, to keep you warm and comfortable so you’ll never want to leave his room, just like him.

He prefers any position that has the two of you lying together, with your face in clear view because he can’t get enough of the faces you make because of the pleasure he’s responsible for making you feel. He’ll be more focused on your voice, your body language, your reactions to reassure him he’s doing something right.

To see your naked skin kissed with the reflection of the water from the tank is his favorite part. He actually got a nosebleed the first time he saw you like that.

Sex with the otaku is a learning experience that requires patience and repetitive reassurance. He’s certain that no one could ever love him, and it’s going to cost a lot of mental energy, and it can be disheartening at times where it seems he’s not made any progress in loving himself at all, but you’ll both also have an opportunity to create something truly beautiful between the two of you. Falling in love with your best friend, and having your feelings returned with all their heart is one of the most beautiful things to ever experience.

Satan

I like to imagine that Satan is akin to that tiger DILF in Zootopia looking at his tablet while on the train, you know, the one who looks like he’ll take good care of you? Listen, during one of his Devilgram stories, the man pitches a tent (like an actual tent, not a boner you guys) and makes both of you cups of hot chocolate. You can pry this hc out of my cold, dead hands.

Sex with Satan is actually more often fluffy and sweet than anyone would assume because he’s the Avatar of Wrath. Just like all the other brothers, Satan is more than his sin. That being said, Satan is still CEO of Angry Sex™ but he’s also more intune to his own feelings than the rest of his brothers.

It’s after his more violent fits of rage that he’s seeking your comfort. It’s difficult for him to come down from his wrath; the worse the fit is, the more broken and twisted he feels. He didn’t like coming to you at first because he knows how mentally draining it can be for a human to deal with someone like that, but you’ve insisted in your endearing and stubborn way that he can and needs to rely on you more. You threatened to find all the sources proving your point for the success of any relationship and he eventually gave in, accepting your kindness and your love.

In turn, he provides you with an arsenal of reading material and spells you can arm yourself with for a plethora of reasons; mainly self-defense against demons, a history of successful and failed attempts to prank Lucifer, as well as guides for subjects in class to help you study.

Unlike his previous brothers, sex with Satan is more about the pleasure you both feel. Of course he’ll still be mindful of your pleasure, but he can also get lost in his own desire. No matter how far gone he is, you know that the moment you utter the safeword, he’ll stop immediately and assess the situation. The safeword is actually a simple spell that he’d found when you two started getting more intimate.

On days he’s feeling extra playful, he’ll dress up for you; a collar with a bell, cat ears, a butt plug with a tail attached. He loves to be your little kitty cat, and will practically foam at the mouth if you ever dressed up like a slutty cat for him, but this doesn’t lead to fluffy smut times.

While he has no issues with PDA, Satan reserves his more soft and fluffy side for when you two are totally alone. He’s proactive in looking up cute date ideas and is the type to go all out turning his bed or his floor into a nest of pillows and blankets, cups of tea, hot chocolate, coffee, whatever you prefer, a variety of little snacks, and turn his wall into a projection screen to watch old-fashioned black and white romance movies.

For Satan, it’s the moments leading up to the sweet intimacy filled with love and adoration that are his favorites. Being the reason your face brightens, tears of happiness well in the corner of your eyes, the way your smile makes his heart stutters, Satan loves showing you how much you mean to him mainly because he knows he’s not the best with words. He could recite any poem of strings of song lyrics, but he believes actions speak louder than words.

He actually prefers for you to have control in these moments; there’s less of a chance he could hurt you and it’s another way to prove his love. He’ll only ever bottom for you. He was reluctant at first, but it’s like you opened his eyes to a whole new world he didn’t know about. He still likes to act like he's a cat and you're his mouse, but he also likes it when you take over and make him bow to your whim. You've gained his trust as well as his heart and he believes that the power dynamic in a relationship should be balanced.

During the most intimate moments, either right after sex or waking up together in the morning after sleeping in, you'll both enter this Cat Speak mode. One of you will start, just a cute little "mrow?" and you'll go back and forth entertaining a semblance of a conversation but without saying anything. There's no actual conversation happening, it's just the two of you making cat noises at each other, giggling and riding the high of this special intimacy specially reserved for these moments of bliss.

Beel

Let’s be honest, 9 times out of 10 your sex with the sixth-born will be fluffy and sweet. He’s like the personified version of a golden retriever. He loves you and has the instinct to want to take care of you. You’re such a small, delicate human, and his brothers love you too so when you’re in Beel’s care, he makes sure you’re satisfied more than just sexually.

Anything you’re willing to give him, he’ll accept wholeheartedly expressing his love and gratitude in the form of huge grins, hugs, a hearty chuckle, and peppering kisses across your face.

Even though he’s not as sexually active as some of his brothers, once you get this big guy started, be prepared to cancel any plans you have for the rest of the day… and also the day after just to be safe. He has the most energy and will keep going until he’s had you against every solid surface in his room, minus Belphie’s furniture of course. Regardless of your size or how you look, he’ll make you feel weightless as he carries you around the room effortlessly

He loves the way you taste, gliding his tongue over your skin like you’re an ice-cream cone that never melts, he’s actually growled a number of times when you tried pulling yourself away from him. His eyes had turned shades darker than normal before you snapped him out of it. He would apologize profusely and kill the mood so as to make sure he’s in the right headspace and you’re okay.

This has only happened a few times, but he still loves to taste every inch of you whenever he has you all to himself. He leaves you covered in hickeys and love bites and even though he’ll apologize, you know he feels absolutely no shame in his brother’s reactions to seeing you covered the next day.

His favorite part is helping you ride out your orgasm with his mouth. He knows he’s more skilled with his mouth anyway and just, the man cannot get enough of you or your taste. Depending on where he’s at when you orgasm, if he’s close, he’ll paint your skin in his release, and then clean up the mess and drag you in for snuggles. If he’s not quite there yet, he’ll assess your energy levels and wait until you’re ready to go again or keep going, depending on who topped or bottomed. He’s all about consent and wants to join you when you’re fully blissed out regardless if he’s finished or not (meaning he’ll deny his own release in order to lie with you).

Aftercare comes almost second nature to him. He’s already carrying you to the bathroom and soaking you off in the shower before you realize it. The warm water and his large hands invade your senses and he urges you to let go, to let him take care of you and it’s like a dream. His calloused hands offer a sort of comforting roughness that keeps you grounded. If you want shower sex, you’ll have to initiate it.

Actually, that’s pretty accurate for Beel. You want sex? You’re either going to have to initiate it or tell him straight out. Poor guy does not take hints well as he is very oblivious.

#like i said #longer than expected 😅#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me Lucifer fluff #obey my Mammon fluff #obey me leviathan fluff #obey me Levi fluff #obey me satan fluff #obey me beel fluff #so many tags #obey me nsft #obey me headcanons #obey me fluff

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realcube · 3 years

Photo

'you're..you're wearing that-' he hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, 'for me?'

navi | taglist | nsfw part two

summary ➵ on your first date with tamaki, he’s already wondering why you romanticise a guy like himself

content warning ➵ reader wear make-up, a dress and the accessories pictured above, very insecure! tamaki, mild angst & fluff

credit ➵ thank you to @suneater18 for the request and the pics belongs to hippieartesanatos

the moonlight penetrated through the sombre clouds which waved overhead, creating a picturesque night sky for you to admire on your date; as if the heavens were smiling down upon you, congratulating you for scoring such a nice guy.

well, at least, that is what you would’ve thought if your date was sooner to start. currently, you were shuffling on a park bench, fidgeting with your phone as your eyes flickered between the screen and the gorgeous sight above you, anticipating when your date will finally arrive so you can admire it together.

however, twenty minutes had passed since nine o’clock — the time you had both agreed to meet each other at — yet you were still sitting alone, tamaki no where to be seen. what make it even worse was that he was ghosting all your messages and calls.

perhaps it was the first-date jitters speaking but there was a voice lurking in the back of your head, whispering that you have been stood-up. however, you were too ashamed to just get up and leave now, so you figured that you may as well call your friend and ask them to join you.

your eyes burned with tears which you choked back as your fingers worked on their own to search your contacts for your friend’s number. there was a part of you that believed you were being to hasty but you truly couldn’t bare to just sit here and act ‘hopeful’ any longer. with shaky hands, you tapped your friend’s contact as your thumb hovered over the phone icon.

“(y/n)!”

you froze upon hearing your name called from a distance, your immediate reaction being to whip your head around to see who — or what — was in such desperate need of your attention that they were willing to yell your name from half-way across the park.

and of course, it was none other than tamaki amajiki himself; dashing towards you at full-speed in a torn suit, muddy shoes and..his hair seemed to be unevenly cut. he wore a determined yet petrified expression as he came hurdling in your direction, a single stray tentacle dragging behind him as he ran.

a smile of both confusion and relief tugged at your lips, the pads of your fingers dabbing lightly under your eyes to rid of any puffy skin or dampness while simultaneously ensuring that you wouldn’t mess up your lashes or eyeshadow.

“tama! you’re here!” you squealed, your hands automatically clasping together in excitement as he approached the bench, about to fall into the seat beside you due to how tired he was but pausing as he watched you spring to your feet and open your arms for a hug. his lips slowly curled into a weak smile, his expression softening and he didn’t waste a single second before throwing his arms around you, pulling you in for as tight of a hug that his worn biceps would allow him to.

despite the fact he reeked of an ungodly amount of body spray, you still basked his embrace since this is the moment you spent the last three hours or so preparing for. you were quite shocked at how shabby he looked but you decided against questioning it, out of courtesy. but on the bright side, it really made you feel better about the outfit you had spent hours styling, yet you were still not completely sure about.

tamaki suddenly pulled away from the hug so he could fall back onto the bench, letting out a hefty sigh and momentarily zoning out in order to catch his breath. you weren’t too sure whether it was appropriate to giggle or pout at the sight so you chose to not do either and instead, just awkwardly stand and stare at him.

a sharp inhale was all tamaki needed before he was finally able to sit up slightly and bow his head, folding his hands to you before blurting out, “i am so sorry i’m late, (y/n)!” and before you could even get a word in, he began his breathless explanation, “i got a small tear in my shirt and mirio said he’ll fix it but he made it even worse. then nejire said she’ll style my hair but she only knew a few male styles and said my hair was too long and before i could say anything she was chopping away at my hair-- and somehow mirio’s dog got ahold of my suit and it made the tears even worse! i was so stress and y’know when i’m stressed i stress-eat, so i began eating fish snacks and before i even knew what was going on, it was nine o’clock. so i ran here as fast as i could and i tried to manifest tentacles to help me move faster but it turns out i didn’t eat enough fish snacks so i only have one tentacle and i can’t even move it properly- look!”

the fact he said all of that in seemingly one breath left you stunned in place, with you eyes fixated on his rapidly moving lips until they instinctively shifted onto his single tentacle, laying dejected by his feet until it started squirming around. however, that was all it seemed capable of doing — squirming.

“uuh,” you hummed, trying your best to stifle a snicker as tamaki was clearly in genuine destress. “it’s fine, tama! i was a bit worried that you wouldn’t show but it doesn’t matter, you’re here now so let’s focus on that.”

your words somewhat calmed him down as his shoulders visibly relaxed, his red eyes tearing off the concrete ground to meet your kind gaze. a slight gasp escaped his lips as he noticed how gorgeous your make-up was, but before he could utter a compliment, his eyes went further downwards as he tried to process the whole of your outfit.

his cheeks immediately burned red at the sight; your stunning purple dress, shimmering heels and matching crystal accessories which were evidently worn to complement his own aesthetic. a certain piece which he was drawn to, was the golden, gemmed ear cuff you wore with pointed tips to form a similar shape to his own ears — one of his biggest physical insecurities.

“you look..” tamaki mused, momentarily cutting himself off to think of a word that would do you justice, “perfect.” his voice was hushed, hardly above a whisper but you were still able to make out what he said and a sheepish grin crept onto your features.

“thank you, baby!” you chirped, perking up slightly and giving him a little twirl, causing a burst of red to explode on his cheeks which he was quick to try cover with his hands. it was moments like these when he wished that hoodies were first-date appropriate, that way he could just sink back into his hood and pretend he doesn’t exist.

“you look really nice too.” there was nothing wrong with a little white lie every now and again. however, it wasn’t even said with the intent of being a lie as you secretly thought that the scruffiness kinda suited tamaki, like, he looked badass! like your prince charming who accidentally fell into a ditch.

your compliment didn’t help the increasing temperature of tamaki’s cheeks either, causing him to slump farther back in his seat as he muttered garbled speech under his breath. it took a good few seconds but eventually he was able to peer at you with a single eye through the inbetweens of his fingers, “a-and i like your little ear cuff thing.

everything he said only widened your beam and make you feel more giddy, to the point where you were practically bounced in place, “thanks, tama! i saw it and immediately thought of you, so i bought it.” you stifled a squeal at how observant tamaki was being, praising all the small details of your attire which you thought would go unnoticed. “i decided to wear it today because remember how you showed me the tie you bought for our date?” you explained, vaguely gesturing at said tie which hung in tatters around his neck, “yeah, so, i thought we could match.”

it took him a few moments to process what you just said and while his brain was running on overdrive, you were met by his rapid blinking and frozen stature. having known tamaki for a while now, you knew how this was a fairly common occurrence when was truly stunned by something, so you allowed him some time in silence to consolidate.

“so..” he started, trembling hand dropping from his face and onto his lap so you could see his whole bashful appearance. his gaze seemed to be trained on the floor, until he finally looked up to reveal the twinkle in his eyes, “you’re..you’re wearing that-” he hesitated, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, “for me?”

the thought that you were ashamed to be with him was something that constantly taunted him from the back of this mind. you were heavenly in a way that his words simply could not describe, though that didn’t stop him from trying. it was beyond him how a person as divine as yourself would even give him the time of day; let alone insist that he was beautiful, leave encouraging notes in his locker, comfort him when he shows even the smallest sign of being upset, give him praise on all the thing he was insecure about and so much more.

when he looked in the mirror, he did not see what you see. he viewed his ears as creepy and not a feature he should put on display, hence a part of the many reasons why he’s so fond of his hood. but here you were, all dolled up in his favourite colour just to showcase that you were with him. your ears decorated with pretty cuffs that made them look a similar shape to his, at first glance.

when he’d walk beside you through the corridors of the school or under the shade of the trees in the park, he’d feel the eyes of jealous passersby burn holes through his skin; despite the fact you weren’t even dating him yet, people just hated seeing a guy like himself by your side, apparently.

he stopped eating before meeting up with you so he wouldn’t have any weird manifestation that could draw attention to himself. he started wearing his hood up at all times so people wouldn’t judge him for his elven ears. he refused to touch you just in case people thought you were dating and became envious of him, which would quickly turn to hatred.

so why would you want to look like him? why would you want people to know that you are on a date with him? why did you act proud to be with him?

you quirked a brow at how confounded he sounded, thinking over your answer with a hum; you wore this outfit for tamaki and yourself because you thought it was pretty and it suited you. however, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that there was no need to give tamaki the full truth right now so instead you allowed him to enjoy his rare surge of confidence by replying with simply, “yeah, for you.”

you weren’t going to be surprised that he was flattered, by now you were well aware that tamaki held all your opinions on him in high esteem so that’s why you always tried to be as nice to him as possible — that, and it was just in your nature to be kind towards him when he’s been nothing but respectful to you back.

however, what you didn’t expect was to hear faint sobs from behind his hands and watch as crystalline tears poured escaped from the inbetweens of his fingers, racing down the back of his hands. “tamaki..” you murmured, reluctantly taking a seat next to him to wrap your arms around, rubbing comforting circles in his shoulders like you usually did when he was sad. although, you weren’t even completely sure that he was disheartened by your statement.

“i’m sorry.” you spoke in a hushed voice, leaning in close to his neck until your nose brushed against his skin, resulting in him tilting his head so it rested upon yours. “are you okay?”

“please don’t apologise.” he croaked, stifling his snivels to try show that he wasn’t upset. “you did nothing wrong. in fact, you’ve done everything right. i’m the one who’s been messing up.” he felt your hand ghost over his own and without a second thought, he intertwined his finger with your own, freeing his other palm to place it on your shoulder and exposing his pale, tear-stained face is the process.

“i know it’s hard but you should tell me what’s on your mind, tamaki.” you hummed, gently caressing the back of his hand with your thumb and planting a kiss on the damp skin of his cheek. his cologne was still suffocating strong but if you were to die, it would ideally be while cuddled up to him, under the celestial night sky.

opening up had never been an easy task for tamaki; especially about a subject that concerned his physical appearance and emotions. but there was a knot in his chest that would simply come undone when he was with you. he couldn’t explain it, but all the barriers and walls he had established to avoid getting his feeling hurt or heart broken would come crashing down whenever he was with you. perhaps it was a familiarity, maybe it was your reassuring presence or might just be pure love and adoration.

either way, he found him himself babbling on about anything and everything that bothered him with little regard for his own pride or secrecy, he voiced every thought that came to his mind in the moment. he told you just about it all — all his problems and insecurities —and you listened, offering him encouragement whenever he’d cut himself off, saying something along the lines of, ‘i-i’ll stop now, i sound silly’ or ‘you’re probably tired of hearing me prattle on’. though, of course you didn’t want him to stop until he had gotten everything off his chest as it was a rare sight for him to talk for such lengths at a time so the last thing you wanted to do was discourage him.

“i just..” tamaki stammered, coming to the end of his passionate ramble, “don’t understand why you want to be seen with me, let alone wear those.” he raised his shaky hand from your shoulder to gesture to your ear cuffs, “don’t get me wrong, they look cute on you, but i just don’t get why you’d want to have ears that look like mine.”

“because yours are beautiful!”

he winced at the compliment and at how sincere you sounded, “well, i’m glad you think that, (y/n).” he muttered, not even having to finish his statement as the dejection in his voice made it obvious that he did not view himself in the same light. his gaze dropped to his feet which were shuffling uncontrollably, “i don’t know why i’m making such i big deal about this. aren’t you annoyed?”

your let go of his hands only to slip them around his neck and pull him into your embrace, you felt him tense up in your arms but slowly allow himself to relax his cheek onto your shoulder. “i’m not annoyed, baby. i get what you mean and it’s horrible that you feel that way.” all tamaki could do would tick his tongue in agreement.

“i know i tell you this all the time but i honestly think you’re so attractive, inside and out. i was so excited when you agreed to date me, i could’ve died of happiness on the spot!” you chirped, momentarily jerked your head backwards so you could peck the tip of his nose, giggling as he scrunched his face up cutely at the sudden touch.

your angelic laugh rung through tamaki’s head, forcing his lips into a smile as he gawked at your adorable action. “i love you..” tamaki uttered, raising his voice ever so slightly to ensure that you heard what he said, “so much.” thanks to you, his sobs were now just mere sniffles into the crook of your neck.

you inhaled sharply, eyes-widening at his words; you would’ve never thought he would be the first on to say ‘i love you’, but you were far from disappointed, in fact you felt yourself melting further into his touch.

you felt his grip on you tighten, his breathing slowly retuning to it’s regular pace as he squeezed his eyes shut, cancelling out all his other senses so he could focus on the way your body felt against his own.

he wanted to be confident. he wanted to take pride in himself for you. he was tired of restless nights filled with tears due to his worries berating him for simply existing in your presence.

it wasn’t going to be easy but he needed to start acting on everything you said. because eventually, it wouldn’t just be for you, it’d be for himself.

and of course, it didn’t go unnoticed by you when he started wearing his hood less often, when he began holding his head up higher as he walks by your side, the way he now shoots warm smiles at people who try to glare at him.

and five years later, how he didn’t bat an eye at deadly glare that the waiter — that had been subtly flirting with you all night — shot at him as he got down on one knee, in front of the whole restaurant.

#amajiki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #amajiki fluff #amajiki x y/n #bnha x y/n #amajiki tamaki x reader #bnha tamaki #mha tamaki #bnha x you #bnha fluff #tamaki fluff #tamaki x you #tamaki x reader #bnha x gender neutral reader #mha fluff #tamaki amajiki #mha amajiki #amajiki x you

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steviespanties · 3 years

Note

Since Steve’s parents are out of town so often, he and Billy have a habit of hooking up at Steve’s place. Steve’s room is nice and all, but Billy has a thing for fucking Steve in his mom’s bed;; ((HI I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOUR STORIES THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH MASTERPIECES💖💖))

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AND ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS!!! (This sent me down an interior decorating rabbit hole trying to figure out what Steve’s mom’s bed- and then her own room might look like😅😂 Please imagine a layout similar to this, but with another window on the other side of the bed for more light. The ‘sofa’ and bed look a lot more like this, but the colors and style are more similar to this and this room.) 2.2k words, rated E. Steve POV, some manhandling, some frottage, some rimming and dirty talk. Anal sex. Ya know. My usual.

Steve’s parents have a big enough house (and are rich enough) that his mom has an entire bedroom for herself. She calls it her boudoir, because it’s where her walk-in closet is and where she keeps all her fancy makeup, lesser used jewelry and perfumes. There’s a massive four-poster bed with floor-length drapes matching the curtains, a chaise lounge, a vanity, all in creamy white and bathed in warm lamp light.

Before he gets together with Billy, Steve doesn’t even think about it’s existence. It’s just another empty room, after all. The most he sees of the house are the entrance, kitchen, living room and the walk upstairs to his bedroom with his own bathroom. Hell, sometimes it slips his mind that he technically lives in what counts in Hawkins as a mansion.

Billy, however, becomes obsessed with the ‘boudoir’ in particular.

The first time he's supposed to really stay over, not just crash in Steve’s room and fuck him into his bed at 3am, he steps through the front entrance, whistles after a survey of the hallway and goes “Aren’t you gonna show me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Just take a pair of house shoes from over there.” Steve gestures towards the shoe rack in question and Billy’s expression goes from amused to disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah. Seriously. My parents put in new flooring over the summer and now everything has to look pristine for the two times a year they have visitors over.”

It's such an unnecessary, stupid rule to enforce all of a sudden when Steve has rarely worn shoes around the house anyways.

He’s barefoot when it’s warm outside and leaves his shoes by the front door to change into thick wool socks during the cold months. And somehow, his parents still have found a new way to make him feel like he’s walking on eggshells in his own home.

Still, he watches Billy sullenly take off his shoes with growing amusement that gradually lightens the bad mood Steve’s gotten into just thinking about it. He figures he can give Billy a quick tour of the house and then order pizza. Watch a movie, fuck in an actual bed instead of getting each other off in the cramped backseats of their cars.

What happens instead is that Billy spends a ridiculous amount of time dragging Steve through his own home. He looks into guest rooms. Shoves his nose into cabinets. Looks out of windows like he’s staking out the neighborhood. (Woods. The neighborhood is mostly woods.)

“What are you, a spy?” Steve jokingly asks when Billy lifts up a painting to peek behind, like he’s looking for a safe. Billy scoffs, all mock-offended. But Steve can see a hint of a blush form on his cheeks. Gotcha. It’s kinda sweet how curious he is about the place, even if his main complaint is that it “feels like a show house.” Steve doesn’t have the heart to point out that he’s not too far off.

It’s when they step into his mom’s room that a predatory glint enters Billy’s eyes. “Ohh, is this where Mama Harrington sleeps?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. She wanted a room to get ready ‘in peace’. I’m pretty sure she just wants to drink prosecco in peace.” He watches Billy’s fingers trail over the fabric of one of the creamy white curtains framing the window. They part and his rings glint in the sunlight he’s suddenly bathed in. When he turns back around his hair is lit up gold and frames his head like a halo. Steve licks his lips. The fun thing about dating Billy is that he not only matches Steve in terms of libido, but seems to have a sixth sense for the moment Steve’s thoughts get distracted by his gorgeous everything.

Or maybe Steve just isn’t very subtle.

That glint in Billy’s eyes turns into hungry laser focus. Sets him into motion until he’s all pressed against Steve, a hot line of unrelenting muscle pushing him closer to the bed until they tip over and onto the mattress. Half hidden by more curtains hanging from the canopy. Sunlight follows them.

White teeth flash in an easy grin, quick and sweet, and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s. His body weight pushes Steve into the creamy white bed cover and the air out of his lungs in a huffed laugh. Underneath him the texture of the blanket- distinct raised ribbing- digs into his skin. Billy’s hands dig into his hair.

The slick heat of Billy’s mouth and his thigh shoved between Steve’s legs is intoxicating. Makes it impossible to form a coherent thought when his focus narrows down on Billy on top of him, curls just long enough to fall down and tickle Steve’s face. He makes the most delicious sound when Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer, till their hips are lined up just right. Steve pulls. Billy pushes. Like a conversation in a language purely made of heat and pressure, hitching breaths and choked moans. Against his own growing erection, painfully trapped in his jeans, he can feel Billy fill out as well. The pleasure is maddening. Enough to make Steve feel a burst of wetness pulse from his dick into his underwear. Enough to make him roll his hips up, searching for a better angle.

“Billy,” he sighs, not sure what he wanted to say afterwards. Just enjoys saying his name.

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Billy complains in response, like he picked up whatever thought Steve dropped in the minuscule space between them. They break out into a familiar flurry of limbs and discarded clothes. A condom packet and a small bottle of lube make it from Billy’s discarded jacket onto the comforter next to Steve’s head. He snorts.

“You sure you weren’t a boy scout at some point? Feels like you’re always prepared to get your dick wet.”

Billy rolls his eyes, fond smile belying his annoyance. “Shut up. Turn around.” His voice has taken on that deep, rough tone indicating how much he’s turned on. Steve leans back instead, takes his dick in hand. Enjoys the rough drag of his dry palm when he drags it up in a loose grip. Just enough to tease. Billy raptly follows the movement. “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.”

Oh, he loves this game. Put up a token bit of protest when Billy gets bossy, until he gets impatient and starts dragging Steve around until he’s nothing but putty underneath his hands.

“Show me your pretty hole, babe. I won’t ask again.”

Steve’s dick pulses in his hand. He watches Billy with half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles shift, getting ready to move. Hungry and powerful, like a big wildcat.

In the next second, he’s on Steve. Makes him gasp out an involuntary yelp when he easily flips him and drags him up by his hips. Until he’s on his knees, face buried in the bed cover and hot breath suddenly ghosts over his hole. There’s barely enough time to reorient himself before the scratch of Billy’s mustache and the slick warmth of his tongue press into his crack.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He’s never done this before Billy. Not with any of the girls he fucked or dated. Not with Tommy, who he’s traded sloppy, shameful handjobs and blowjobs with. He doesn’t think he can ever get enough of feeling Billy’s tongue on his rim, swirling around until he’s dripping with saliva. Pushing inside where he’s sensitive, pressure and stretch of his hole making him squirm and push his hips back immediately.

It’s almost embarrassing how greedy he is for Billy’s mouth on him. His lips wrapped around his dick. His tongue shoved deep into his hole, held in place by those warm hands on his asscheeks. Holding him open so Billy can get even deeper, making him moan and drool into the blanket beneath him. It’s like a pulse, curls into him till his dick pushes out another spurt of precome and he can feel himself twitch, heavy and aching between his legs.

A slicked up finger joins Billy’s tongue. Makes the stretch just a bit more intense, but still so, so good. Billy only comes up for air when he adds a second finger. Steve can feel him rest his cheek on his ass, probably watching the movement of his fingers up close. He seems to have a thing for the sight of Steve’s rim stretched, his hole filled up and glistening.

“Gonna make you a complete mess in your mom’s bed,” Billy huffs into his skin. “Gonna make you cry and cream yourself all over her sheets.” He thrusts deeper and stretches his fingers until they tug at Steve’s hole and he groans with the ache. “Better get going then,” he tries to taunt. It falls flat with all that desperation laced through his words. The thing is, provoking Billy only gets you so far. Steve can tease him into impatience, but once he’s fully grasped control, he revels in it. Basks in Steve’s frenzied, futile attempts at irritating him. Like he’s had his chance, but the game is already won.

Steve doesn’t mind losing that much anyways.

“Just you wait,” Billy says fondly.

All Steve can focus on for a while is that glorious, slick movement of Billy’s fingers. The way he pushes in and out of him, stretches his rim and his insides, rubs over that spot inside of him that makes him frantically claw at the textured bed cover underneath him. Just long enough to make him whine and push back, pulse around a third finger that stretches him even wider.

At some point, when he’s reduced to a sweat-slick line of tightly wound pleasure, he finds himself empty. Barely registers the sound of a ripped open condom wrapper. Warm, humid breath over his spine that wanders up up up until there’s lips and teeth on his shoulder and Billy’s cock slowly pushes inside.

There’s a growing spot of drool-wet fabric his face presses into that swallows some of his moans. When Billy moves, satisfied sighs and barely coherent praises tumbling from his lips, Steve grasps the bed cover tight.

Billy’s hips find a rolling, unrelenting rhythm. The drag of his cock is a drug Steve can’t get enough of. Dreams about, just as much as he dreams about the tight heat of Billy around his dick.

He wishes he could turn around and admire Billy’s flushed face. Hold him between his spread legs. Get lost in his eyes and dizzy from his freckles. But Billy’s weight on his back and his mouth sucking hickeys into the back of his neck isn’t bad either. He tries to hold himself up, tries to concentrate on carrying that weight on his back, but with each thrust inside it’s like his knees spread wider and his elbows sink down until he’s pressed flat onto the bed. And then his dick makes contact with the bed cover and gets pushed right into it right along Billy’s thrusts.

“Ah!” The moan is embarrassingly loud. Louder than any other noise he’s made so far. Of course, Billy picks up on it.

“You gonna be a good boy and blow your load all over your mommy’s sheets?”

“Shut- shut up, fuck.” Billy just laughs, voice shot to hell.

Even if Steve wanted to, he can’t escape that mouthwatering pleasure the additional drag of rough fabric against his dick provides. Because even if he wanted to try, he can’t pull away from Billy’s weight on top of him. His heavy, thick cock inside of him that holds him open and fills him up.

He comes with a sob. Pushes his face harder into wet fabric. Pushes his dick through his own mess. Pushes his hips back to meet Billy’s thrusts, even when it becomes just a bit too much.

Billy rests his entire weight on him when he comes with a deeply satisfied groan. Through their aftershocks, he buries his face in Steve’s hair and they rest in companionable silence.

It’s not the last time they end up fucking on that bed, no matter how many times Steve complains about the laundry with flushed cheeks.

...

Steve isn’t enough of an idiot to not understand that Billy likes to fuck him in his mom’s bed because he likes the conquest of a room that’s ‘forbidden’. He’s the same at parties, likes to sneak into rooms he’s not supposed to be in. Likes the thrill of doing something nasty with Steve in a place his mom will walk into and never even suspect what’s happened.

And Billy? Billy doesn’t want to admit it, especially not to Steve’s face, but... the way Steve’s hair looks against the creamy-white sheets in his mom’s bedroom? The soft yellow glow of light, the blush that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, to his chest faster than it does anywhere else- it’s addictive.

The best part, the one they both like a little too much is what happens afterwards. When the raised ribbing of the bed cover has left indents on Steve’s face where it’s been pressed down. On his arms and knees. On his back, where only Billy can see and trace it for the rest of the night, reverent and sweet.

#asks #OHH my god I'M SO FLATTERED THANK YOU SO MUCH😭💖💖💖#I hope you're having a LOVELY day and you like this!!#saberghatz #(also i'm so sorry this took ages to answer bc i took so long to write this?? jfc!!!)#harringrove #harringrove fic

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mondixu · 3 years

Text

always forever | monika [ ddlc ]

always forever - cults

fandom // doki doki literature club

gender // female

pairing // monika x reader

[ you and me, always forever ]

Traumatizing is an understatement, I thought with a sadistic smile. [Name] smiled with her. [Name] cried with her. [Name] laughed with her. [Name] was best friends with her. [Name] was the one who found her hanging in her room by a thin rope, her hands bloody. Sayori. It was incredibly shocking and disturbing, she obviously couldn't handle it. It was terrifying, to say the least. The fact that her childhood best friend was willing to commit suicide just because [Name] turned down her confession was too much to handle. Collapsing in the floor of her room, she stared at the girl she had come to know and love, her lifeless eyes staring at the floor. Skin pale. White and papery. Bright blue eyes that used to be so full of life and cheer were dull and no more. She's gone. I basked in the glory of defeating my worst enemy, my worst fear, the cause of my anxiety. Sayori was no more. Which means [Name] is mine.

[ we could stay alone together ]

Getting her up the stairs was a hassle. Now you might be thinking, oh Monika! Aren't you the world-famous, brilliant hacker who could just reprogram her, or better yet, float her up the stairs?! Well, yes. Yes I could. Did I? No. I managed to drag her limp body up the stairs and into the club room, making sure Natsuki and/or Yuri weren't in there before depositing her unconscious form onto two desks pushed together. I cautiously caressed her cheek, looking at her with nothing but love present in my eyes. My soulmate. My darling. My love. She couldn't be best friends with Sayori anymore. The bow-wearing girl would only get in the way. Did I make her kill herself? In a way, yes. Did I want to? Yes. No, but it had to be done. I know she loves me. Deep down inside, buried underneath all of the growing guilt and hatred and fear and betrayal and overall negative emotions . . . She loves me. There's no denying it of course! How could you ever contradict the fact that we're meant to be? She'll realize it, of course. [Name] will be mine.

[ you and me, always forever ]

I made sure she woke up to the gentle sound of a piano playing, a hard surface making its presence painfully known in her back as she managed to sit up. Blinking rapidly, she looked around the familiar club room, finding a piano in a corner with my figure sitting neatly atop the bench, my swift fingers delicately dancing across the keys. "M-Monika?" she inquired, confusion staining her pretty face. "W-what's going on, why did I wake up on a desk?" I only smiled at her and continued playing, yet this time, I started to sing. My voice was soft and smooth, like the pleasant surface of a freshly opened book, and yet, it had a sharp edge to it. As if I were a paper cut. Carefully standing up, she made her way over to where I was perched, smiling contentedly at her. "Monika?" Oh god, it sounded so good. My name rolling off her tongue. It was beautiful. I wanted to confess my undying love for her right then and there, right in that goddamn club room and destroy the world around us so she wouldn't have anything left to run to except for me. I wanted to tell her everything, like when the first time I laid eyes on her, I knew she was the one. The one for me. The first time I laid eyes on her, Sayori was clinging to her arm as if it was her life support, the only thing keeping her tethered to the world and preventing her from floating away. I wanted to be the one on her arm. I wanted to be the one she smiled and laughed with, I wanted to be the one she couldn't live without, I wanted to be the one who would wash her worries away at my mere presence, I wanted to be the one she looked at with adoring eyes. But I wasn't. I knew [Name] had turned down Sayori's confession, as I should, considering the fact that I had watched the whole thing play out. Yet I prevented the wave of hope threatening to wash over me, and instead, pushed the salty water into a hole I had dug long before I began this stupid book club. Yes, I had been in love with [Name] for over a year. My obsessive tendencies began four months after I had first spotted [Name]. It was only little things, like making sure she and Sayori got home safely after a long day at school, when the two were both exhausted, or watching [Name]'s house all night to make sure she was okay before heading to my house to quickly get changed then rush back to her home to make sure she got to school safely. Then I unintentionally took it a little farther. Gradually progressing, I gathered the courage to discreetly follow her at school and on the weekends, just to make sure she was safe. A month later, I managed to slip a walkie talkie into her room - where she would never find it - to listen to her sleep. Two weeks later was graduation.�� After that, I never worked on clubs or camps or anything normal unless it involved her. I didn't bother answering my parents' questions about where I had been or what I had been doing all day and night when I rushed home to get changed in the morning. I was only concerned about her. I began to take pictures of her secretly since she never knew me that well, and it would be too suspicious if I randomly asked her for one. One wouldn't be enough anyway. My jade green walls were now completely covered in pictures of her, the only thing occasionally breaking them up being her schedules and records of the time and places I had found her alone. It wasn't enough. Once I began a new school year, I knew I would have to find a more manageable way to keep an eye on her, so I convinced Sayori we needed more members for our club, considering she was the only person who really had any friends. My intentions were much more vicious than a simple craving for club expansion. Of course, I was one of the most popular girls in school, but I wanted no friends. I only wanted a lover. And I wanted her. [Name]. Her and only her would suffice. I brought myself back to the present and widened my grin at my future lover, proud to see my months of practice had paid off. The few minutes I wasn't watching [Name] was when I practiced piano, determined to create a song that would satisfy her and make her recognize her unending love for me. And there I was, before the love of my life, playing the song I had dedicated purely for her, her and only her. Your Reality. I figured it was a fitting title, since I would be the only one she would know, the only one she would see, the only one who actually deserved her love and affection. And instead of smiling, happy tears filling her eyes, or laughing and settling down beside me, she ruined it. "Where's Sayori?" Clang. Gravity pulled a pen down to the floor. My smile faltered. "W-what do you mean, 'where's Sayori'?" I inquired, anxiety painting my features. "I mean, where's Sayori? Is she at school . . . " Her sentence trailed off as she walked towards the door, finding dark rooms and vacant halls. "What . . . ? Monika, what's going on, where's Sayori?" I broke. "CAN YOU NOT THINK ABOUT HER FOR ONCE?!" It was only red. "WHAT ABOUT ME?" Only red staining my vision. "WHAT ABOUT ME, HUH?" It was the only thing I could see. "Monika-" "WHAT. ABOUT. ME?!" Nothing stood in my way as I shot up from the stool, storming over to [Name]'s terrified face. I loved that face. That scared look. I wanted her to be scared of me. They all would be once they saw what I could do. What power I could wield. "JUST SHUT UP AND TALK ABOUT ME FOR ONCE!" Red. Paper. Cuts. Blood. Sayori. Rope. Yuri. Knives. Natsuki. Neck. Snap. Death. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Insanity. "It's just you and me, [Name]," I said as blood gradually stained the walls, my pink-tipped shoes advancing towards my frightened soulmate. "You and me. Always forever." "W-what?! Monika what's h-happening?!" She stepped back. She stepped back. She was supposed to walk towards me with love in her eyes, wanting me and only me. That was the plan. It was then that I looked around and saw the tears littering [Name]'s face. The blood on the walls. The static. I was breaking everything. And yet my twisted mind still decided to say, "You and me, always forever."

#ddlc #sayori #doki doki literature club #monika #yandere #monika ddlc #reader insert #xreader #x reader #reader #monika x reader #ddlc sayori #ddlc monika x reader #monika ddlc x reader #doki doki

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mandalorewhore · 3 years

Text

Two Steps Ahead

PART THREE OF HUNTER (formerly hunter and prey)

gif by @princessxkenobi

Rating: Explicit Content Warnings: SMUT, Fighting as Foreplay, Rough Sex, Penetrative Sex(PIV), Unprotected Sex, Dirty talk, Praise kink, Size kink, Big Dick Mando, Top Mando, Sub/Dom elements, Very slight Pain Kink, possible CNC elements although I didn’t write that I also want to warn anyone who doesn’t want to read about rough sex with physical fighting as foreplay Words: 6.9k AO3 LINK

Summary: Reader and Mando start tracking their first bounty together

A/N: i believe things are happening...interesting

***

“I feel like you have a distinct advantage here.” A bead of sweat drips over your brow as you mop at your sweltering forehead in irritation. Your temple throbs as you press on it, pain shooting down your neck at the pressure.

It’s so fucking humid here. You’re tracking one of Mando’s bail jumpers in the middle of a boggy swamp planet that you never caught the name of and you’ve been walking through the forest for at least 24 hours, only stopping for water and ration breaks. Based on the holo-map you’re currently staring at, this entire planet is one big swamp, with no escape from the damp, sticky environment.

The thing barely makes sense, a jumble of colors and shapes that worsens your headache the longer you try to figure it out. You had borrowed a thin shirt from Mando before setting out, but it does little to protect you from the buzzing swarms of insects, while at the same time it reflects just enough heat to have you sweltering.

Mando acts unbothered under all that padding and armor, trekking through the trees without any visible sign of struggle. You don’t understand how he can stay awake for so long without caf, yourself being covered in caf-patches to keep from passing out. It’s probably somewhat dangerous to have so much of the stimulant coursing through your veins, but oh well. If my heart gives out then at least I’ll escape the bugs.

“Footprints aren’t the only way to track a quarry.” He returns mildly, moving swiftly over tangled tree-roots to avoid the pools of murky water that litter the forest floor. You move with less grace behind him, trying to climb slippery wood and juggle the holo at the same time. The twisted trees of this planet seem to reach inward to point at the forest floor, giving you the impression of being trapped within their clutches. The eerie feeling isn’t helped by the distinct lack of light, odd lichen tendrils drape between branches to create a blanket that absorbs most natural light from the sky. A faint glow emanates from the tendrils, basking the forest with ghostly illumination. You scramble to the top of the particularly tall root he’s perched on then plop down to catch your breath.

“No, it’s not the only way,” you pause to take a swig from your water skin, dabbing off the spilled drops from your chin with your sleeve, “but the footprints you track are apparently all glowy and red. I get to look with my naked eyes for shit like depressions in the ground, which is so fun considering the only paths here are solid wood.”

Mando rolls his helmet on his shoulders, the effect similar to someone rolling their eyes. When he speaks it’s short and gruff, annoyed by your attitude. Which is… appropriate. The hours you’ve spent walking in this heat together is starting to snap both of your tempers. “Stop complaining.”

He’s not wrong about the footprints. You’re mostly annoyed because of how useless you feel, more like you’re tagging along than assisting him on the hunt. Drawing your eyebrows together you try to come up with a plan. Most of those mercenary skills you talked up for Karga don’t apply here, this naturalistic setting is too messy and... wild. Unpredictable. You’re used to the structure that comes with starships and cities, places engineered and civilized.

Tracking people isn’t very hard, you’ve done it plenty of times before. The only issue is that all of your practice came from environments where they left clear signs of direction, displaced gravel indicating a shoe-print, broken branches, a trail in sand. It also helps that your targets didn’t know they were being stalked. The only path here is over hard wooden tree roots, with nothing to indicate direction, not even moss grows over the foot trail for traveling feet to mark. You take in a deep breath and hold it for several seconds before letting out all your air in one huge swoop.

“I’m sorry, “ you tell him sincerely, “I want to help you -and not just for a bigger cut. Is there anything I can do?” You truly do feel bad for snapping at him even if you know you’re right about his advantage. Just because you don’t have fancy thermal settings and footprint tracking doesn’t mean you’re useless. The Mandalorian settles his hands on his hips and surveys the area, looking for a task to assign you. His helmet tilts up and lingers on the trees, and you’re already two steps ahead before he can voice his idea.

“I can climb,” you interject, standing up swiftly and moving. “Trees can’t be more slippery than a spacecraft.”

He nods in acknowledgment. “Find something and your cut goes up by five percent.”

“Ten percent.” You grin at him cheekily, wanting to tease him even if he won’t give it to you.

“Eight, if you find somewhere to camp.”

“Deal.” You return, already halfway to the widest tree you can reach without getting your feet wet. The trunk is covered in knots and twisted vines, ugly but providing fantastic handholds for your hands and feet. Grabbing hold of a sturdy looking ledge you begin your ascent.

The climb is fairly easy even with the woods damp surface, and you reach the forest canopy with minimal effort. Carefully squirreling around the thin top-most branches you attempt to find a break-through point, the wood beneath you bowing a little from your weight.

When you finally poke your head through and see the sky you gasp, taken aback by the sight. You hadn’t hung around in the cockpit during landing, instead choosing to pack the bags while Mando skillfully piloted his ship. The forest floor is all you’ve seen of the planet and apparently you’ve missed a lot.

The sky here is beautiful, a color palette that is completely opposite from the dark, damp underbelly of the forest ground. Swirling aquamarine clouds float lazily in the sky, speckling the orange hued atmosphere above you. There are at least 6 pale moons lined up on the horizon from edge to edge, stars twinkling around each orb as if drawn to their orbit. You drink in the sight greedily, the ache in your head lessening in the natural light. This is so much better than the cold stark metal of space stations that you’re used to living on.

It’s hard to tell the time based on the sky alone, the moons must be constantly present in the sky no matter the time of day and you can’t find a single sun. Maybe this planet lives off the light and heat from each moon, reflected from a distant star? The thought is lovely but you don’t think it’s possible. You file the image away for your daydreams then divert your eyes back to the thick forest, searching for anything useful to tell Mando.

The line of trees is unbroken, a sea of dark green leaves and glowing lichen. An orange sky helps to warm up the pale glow from the lichen but it’s eeriness still sends a shiver through you. Everything on the horizon is of even height, betraying nothing within its depths. It isn’t ideal. You gnaw your lip anxiously, dreading to return to Mando without any information especially on your first hunt together. Eyes flitting around desperately, you try to analyze any possible breaks in the natural pattern of trees.

Could that be a settlement there? You think, looking at a slightly thinner section of forest that might roughly be three miles away. You aren’t sure about the planet’s curvature and how flat the terrain is so you double check the holo, looking for the information.

Something catches your eye as you’re pulling up the data, just substantial enough in your peripheral version that you stop what you’re doing. There is a mist rising from that thinned area, far enough away that you mistook it as some sort of lighting effect from the overwhelming color palette here. That has to be steam right? It’s too thick to be naturally occurring from the bog. There must be machinery over there. A settlement hopefully.

You’re about to climb down when you pause, looking at the still lit holo with renewed curiosity. Something about the map visually paired with your clear view of the forest allows the pieces to fall in place. When you compare the shape of the map to the trees you’re finally able to make sense of what you previously thought was a topographical mess. A built pathway lies here, a body of water there. And clearings. Several clearings not too far from where you are now, the perfect size to settle down in. Hopefully they’re dry.

Either the caf-patches are finally sending you into cardiac arrest or you’re manically happy to finally be of help to your hunting partner, but either way, you’re grinning so widely that your teeth clatter together.

“Hey Mando! Guess what you owe me?” You shout down at the ground, beginning to descend. You’re so excited that you practically slide down the vines, jumping to the ground when you’re several feet high in the air, sore muscles creaking at the impact. The Mandalorian is sitting now, resting with his elbow propped on his knee while he waited for you to come back. There’s a soft pang in your chest and you wonder if he’s tired. You brush it off, feeling as though you’re just projecting, and instead grin widely at him in triumph. “7 percent increase for me!”

He lifts his helmet and looks you up and down. “What did you find?”

You reply chirpily, hands grasped behind your back and shit-eating grin still plastered on your face. “There is a settlement of some kind roughly three miles that way,” you point in the direction where you saw the steam, “and several clearings nearby suitable to camp in, if we don’t want to head in right away. Oh, also we aren’t on the actual path used by locals here, the asset must be making an effort to hide.”

“That isn’t very smart of them,” Din observes, shaking his head at the concept. “Busy path hides more prints.”

“Hm…” You take that in, wondering what other techniques a quarry may use to shake its hunter.

It occurs to you that there is a lot you could learn from the Mandalorian, since so far hunting someone has been notably different from your mercenary missions. You’ll find a moment to ask questions later once you’re settled down for the night, wherever that’ll be. “Do you want to camp or find the maybe-settlement?”

“We should camp,” he responds immediately, rising from his seated position and walking closer to you, “we don’t know what we’ll face there. You can choose the area, since you climbed the tree.”

You pull up the holo-map again and zoom in on the different options, feeling far more energized now that you actually know what you’re doing. There are two spots that seem encouraging, both a short hike away from where you are now but removed enough to grant you some privacy. You’ll still need to set up a watch to prevent ambush or stray travelers from finding you but it’ll be easier if you make an effort to hide. One of the clearings seems to have a running water source, you hope it’s cleaner than the still-water you’re currently surrounded by. Maybe you can bathe there too.

“Lets go here,” you pull up the coordinates for Mando, “that looks like a stream, right?”

He leans into your body for a closer look, broad chest just brushing against you in a way that sends flutters through your tummy. You know he can zoom in with his visor, there is no reason he needs to be so close to you except for your benefit. He seems to enjoy messing with you like this, throwing you off with unexpected touches, looks, and gestures. It’s like a game he plays and you’d be far more annoyed by his teases if it wasn’t so exciting.

“Looks good,” he rumbles low in his chest. “Fresh water would be nice.”

Your heart quickens, but you tried to hide your reaction by teasing him back, tapping your fingers on his helm and stepping away. “I was hoping to clean myself up, actually…”

Mando straightens up at this, visor locked on your face.

“Lead the way.” He returns quietly, giving away nothing. Trying not to smile, you start off in the direction of the clearing, for once moving faster than your armored companion.

Your goal isn’t very far, only about 3 miles north of your previous position and a mile adjacent to the settlement you’ll pay a visit to tomorrow. Large, fuzzy fronds of an alien fern droop down the sides of the hollow clearing, providing a barrier between the forest and empty space in between. The trees still tangle above the open area, blocking out part of the beautiful sky, save a few of the large moons, and old pieces of charcoal are ground into the sandy earth here, a sight that makes you a little anxious. This spot must be used by others, you’ll have to be more careful with setting up the watch than expected.

The water source turns out to be a small spring set on the edge of a cliff at the far end of the clearing, a sizable waterfall cascading down the side and gathering in a crystalline pool. Skipping ahead of Mando to the edge of the pool you crouch and dip your fingers in the cool water, sighing in relief as it relieves some of the warmth in your overheated body.

You’re unable to hear Mando’s approach - how he is so stealthy under 50 pounds of metal escapes you, but you feel him behind you. You smirk. Arching your back as you rise, you turn around slowly and begin to make eyes in his direction however, when you actually see what he's doing, you cringe at yourself in embarrassment. He’s not looking like you assumed, instead he is surveying the clearing skeptically, body-language imbued with disapproval. Your heart simultaneously sinks to your stomach and contracts in frustration. You thought you had finally done something right.

“What? Is something wrong?” You ask him tightly, subtly shrinking in on yourself in disappointment. You try to hide this by fiddling idly with a stray thread on your tunic, stubbornly keeping your head lifted high despite wishing you could disappear. He doesn’t respond right away, instead turning and walking the length of the clearing then back, stopping just in front of you sharply. You meet his visor with your eyes, holding the look until you feel like you’re burning up in shame from the pressure of it.

“It’s too… open,” he finally says, voice halting as he tries to find the correct words. “Anyone could walk into our camp.”

“I figured we’d set up a watch. There’s only one entrance-”

He interrupts you. “One ground entrance. Anyone can climb down from the trees.”

“Maybe, but this planet isn’t supposed to be dangerous, is it? Practically abandoned,” You huff out, fists clenching at your sides as you argue with him. “Besides. It’s… pretty here.”

The Mandalorian sighs, pinching the helmet just below the visor where his nose bridge would be. “Fine. I’ll take the first watch. No fire.”

Nodding in response, you cross the clearing and set your bag down on a log, letting out a sigh in relief. That’s fine by you, you don’t need the extra warmth and the glowing lichen provides enough light to get by. You really did not want to hike again after moving for 24 hours straight. Mando mirrors your movements, leaning his rifle next to your pack before settling on the sandy earth. A loaded pause passes between you, earlier implications at the forefront of your minds.

Letting out a shuddering breath you crouch down and pull your old tunic from your bag, slinging it over your shoulder before making your way back to the small pond. The water is completely clear, an inviting sight after the marshy puddles that made up the forest ground on your way here. You’re facing the water now but you’re still well aware of the man behind you, the intensity of his gaze burning even through the impassive visor. The invitation is clear. Take it off.

But you aren’t sure if you want to give him that yet. The exhaustion from today has wrung you dry, small bickerings between you and your work partner dampening the sweet mood leftover from Nevarro. Apologizing with sex isn’t really your thing. You’d rather stoke the mutual respect between you as allies instead of start up a pattern of fighting then making up.

You crouch at the water's edge, peering into the depths for a moment before splashing your face with cold water, fresh scar throbbing as blood rushes to the surface of your face. The spare tunic you grabbed just brushes the surface of the water, sending ripples throughout your reflection. Curious, you lean over and observe the way the mirror-like pond breaks off into fragments, bits of you here and there mixing in with the moons that lay on russet sky.

Like a painting. You think in awe, having only seen a couple of the artifacts in person. The richest target you were assigned to owned two pieces of art, real paintings on real paper, encased in transparisteel viewing cases before you smashed open the backing to wonder at them. You close your eyes and try to recall the texture of the paint before the rest of your memory catches up and sours the whole thing. The man's home had to be burned in order to erase evidence, his paintings too large to smuggle out of the city.

When you open your eyes the pond has settled with your reflection only- you’re not alone.

“Maker!” You jump at the sight of the Mandalorians gleaming helmet appearing in the reflection. “What the fuck, you sneak.”

He just chuckles in response and offers you a hand, which you take firmly while rolling your eyes and standing. He leads you back to sit with him on the sandy earth, taking ration bars out of his pack- not yours, and breaking them evenly between you. The gesture is surprisingly tender and none too appreciated what with your stomach growling audibly at the bland meal. All at once, you are reminded by the spattering of caf-patches on your limbs, the jitteriness becoming more apparent now that you’re finally still. You’re shaking. Mando notices as well.

“You may explode.” He remarks, prompting you to start pulling off the stimulant, crumpling each piece and setting them neatly in a pile at your knee.

“Good, let me explode. You’re too bossy to work with.” You return with a smirk, hoping your sarcasm lands. He hums in response, pulling one of the patches off of your forearm and flicking it in your direction for you to catch.

Tutting, you roll the patch into a ball and set it at the top of your pile. “Don’t leave a mess, this forest is ugly but at least it’s untouched,” you tell him firmly. Mando just nods.

The ration bars are hardly a delicacy but you shove them in your mouth all the same, appreciating the engineering behind them. They are so calorie rich that a piece the size of your palm can keep you going for hours. However, your body can’t seem to relax despite the food lining your belly- perhaps you actually overdid the caf. You should be tired right now. Staying awake for more than a day isn’t exactly the average schedule but your knee bounces uncontrollably in a frantic pattern, stirring up puffs of sand between you and the warrior.

“You need to tire.” Mando mutters, firmly placing a glove on your thigh and holding the limb down. “Stop that.”

“Sorry,” you reply, trying to freeze yourself and sit as still as he does. Mando always exists so sagely, like a monk. Completely calm when he wants to be before exploding into action, no warm-up necessary. You wonder if he had some sort of meditation training to achieve that. Is that why he sits like that in the cockpit, his back rod straight like a statue? Weirdo.

“Hey…” The palm at your thigh presses again and you suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t even realize you were twitching again. “Do I have to hold you down?” He growls.

You gulp. “Tempting. But no.” Your words come out steadier than you feel. The caf becomes all too much in that moment so you lurch to your feet, his gleaming helmet following your body as it rises jerkily. You feel far too energetic, needing to get the energy out somehow so you can finally pass out. Your idea leaves your mouth before you can truly think it over.

“Wanna fight?”

“...What?” Mando sounds truly surprised even if his body betrays nothing.

“You heard me,” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, swaying back and forth like a green sailor on the oceans of Mon Cala. “Let's practice our combat, I rarely get to do that.”

He’s standing before you can blink causing you to jerk back, startled by his speed. The Mandalorian poses right in front of you, too close to not be a challenge with his weight settled on one leg breezily.

“Okay. Hit me.”

What a taunting mother fu- You swing your left hand out as if aiming for the unarmored spot on his ribs, which he blocks with ease… leaving his throat open for your right fist to sharply jab.

The bounty hunter doubles over, coughing and clutching his neck with one hand.

“O-Oh shit! I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean, let me-” You scramble with lost movements, trying and failing to help him straighten upright. It leaves you awkwardly placing your palms on his back while the crown of his helmet presses into your belly. “I, um… Mando?”

His arms wrap around your middle in a flash, pulling you tightly against his chest and throwing both your bodies to the ground. It happens so fast that you can’t even shriek before the air is knocked out of you, hitting the sand hard enough to throw it into the air around you. Gasping, you smack full force at the Mandalorian on top of you, his arms still crushing you against him while your legs lock straight together with his knees on either side. It’s sexy, but you’d really like to breathe. He lets up just barely.

“Nice punch,” he rasps, throat clearly affected by the hit. “Don’t think I’ll hold back after that though.”

“Don’t… want… you to…” You shoot back at him, sharp as you can manage while wheezing. Mandos visor raises ever so slowly and pins you, hidden eyes holding you down more effectively than his body. After a drawn out moment of this, your head spinning as you calculate your escape strategy, he crawls up your body to prop himself above you, locking your wrists in one large hand with the other presses against your chest, shoving your back into the earth. It is just enough pressure to squeeze some air out of your lungs and it is then when you know he isn’t kidding about not holding back.

You’re so fucking happy that he isn’t letting you win.

In other instances, you’d panic at the hopeless feeling of being trapped like this, by someone twice your size and clad in the galaxy’s most powerful steel. But the way he spars with you now, full force and not playing easy... it has implied respect for your skill. He knows you can fight and doesn’t spare you the opportunity to prove it.

Only a second or two has passed since he fully immobilized you and you’re still locked in your flattened position. When he motions to stand, pulling your wrists as if to drag you, you know you must make your move now or it will be too late. The only spot he has open on his body right now is… well, right between his legs. The first thing a smaller fighter learns about combating larger foes is to fight dirty and there is no reason you should hold back if Mando isn’t. Your legs had been pinned tightly together before he moved to drag you but now there is just enough room to swing a knee up and hit him between the legs.

Mando doesn’t wear a full codpiece but luckily for you, the padding on his groin isn’t enough to block your kick. A choked sound rips out of his throat and he falls to one knee, the fingers encircling your wrists loosening slightly while he struggles to fight his body’s natural pain response. You wrench one hand free and use it to grip his cowled neckline, planting your feet against his cuirass and swinging yourself into a hanging position before his grip tightens again. He's steady but you try to dig your feet in to throw him forward, hoping to twist around and land on his back with his face down. He totters for one frozen second, both your bodies on the precipice of falling but unfortunately, he manages to wrench himself backwards and land heavily on his back with you on top.

You’re both gasping and groaning at the shock of hitting the ground so hard, and for one breathless moment all you do is stare heatedly at each other on the forest floor, eyes locking through his visor and somehow you know he is grinning.

His smile mirrors on your face when you feel his hands rip at your clothes, wrenching the thin pants off of you down to your thighs forcefully enough to knock your legs together with a dull thud.

“Did I not just kick you in the dick, Mando?” You laugh, working at his belt at the same time. He palms your ass through your underwear greedily, squeezing so hard that you know finger shaped bruises will blossom there.

“You missed.”

“Must’ve hurt either way…” You mutter, finally managing to reach under his thick layers and wrap your hand around his length, producing a low growl from the man beneath you. “Maybe, it's good I missed.”

The only response you get is his hands pulling both your hands to lay on his chest plate then traveling back down your body to tug aside your underwear and grind you down onto his hips, rubbing your now bare slit against his bulge. You vaguely remember deciding against coming onto him as a form of apology, but for some reason, since he started first that all ceases to matter. It feels like a game you’ve begun to play with each other, playing with the tension between you and the Mandalorian until you find out what breaks your resolve. Maybe it started even before you entered this forest, perhaps back on Nevarro or even on the station.

You can’t tell but you don’t want to question it either.

A moan falls from your throat, your hands moving on their own volition to try and remove his belt entirely, or at least enough to pull his cock out. Mando’s glove flashes up again to circle your wrists, immobilizing them and harshly pinning you down with his vambrace lain across your back.

“You yield?” He asks, voice dripping with a sickly triumph. A chill runs down your back and you feel as if he just dunked you into the pond.

“W-What?”

“You yield… I win?”

“Wha- No!” You cry out indignantly, struggling against his iron grip. “I didn’t realize we were still sparring!”

He laughs, fully bodied and dark with some emotion that swirls deep within your core, and you can’t put your finger on it exactly but you know you’ll have to do something before you’re swept up entirely. “Oh, but we are. What shall the winner gain?” He asks, so quietly that it is almost lost in the warped modulator, barely a question and more so a crackling of static.

Fuck, you’re so wet.

You lick your lips and shakily respond. “I am not one to give up, however-”

“Then don’t. Keep fighting.”

Oh, and you love what he implies. There is no reason to argue further and less time to act, so you immediately struggle hard with the upper half of your body, wrenching your wrists to try and distract him from the way your legs are free to swing into his ribs. But Mando doesn’t fall for your feint a second time. In fact, he seems to have expected it, his leg is more than prepared to hook around the back of your knees and hold you against his body, rolling to the side to throw you underneath him.

You’re pinned on your back with nearly his full weight, unable to do more than weakly punch at what you can reach- unfortunately for you all you can reach is armor. Your cry of anger is cut short when Mando flips onto your front, your chest pressed roughly to the floor of the forest.

The helmet appears over your shoulder, his ragged breathing right by your ear. “T-This okay? You want this?” You can’t find your words to respond with the way you're held so tightly against the earth, so you nod as best you can with one cheek pressed into the ground. Mando snarls something furiously, one hand leaving your back to fumble with his pants and pull his cock out, lining himself up at your soaking entrance and running the head through your folds.

His helmet drops back down to your shoulder, the visor turning and burying itself into the line of your neck and you know that if he weren’t bound by his creed then he would be kissing dark bruises there.

“You know this means I win,” he hisses, pressing his cock to breach your tight opening ever so slightly.

“I-I know.” You whimper weakly.

With that, he fully pushes himself into you and if you weren’t so wet you know his size would be unbearably painful. Instead, the stretch is pure bliss, a slow burning sensation that has a hint of sting to it, his dominance lending to complete submission and all you can do is lay there and take it. There is still the strain you grew to know from when he allowed you to use his body on Nevarro, but something about Mando topping you encourages you to open yourself for him with more ease.

He quickly bottoms out then holds himself till, allowing you to adjust to his size. You’re writhing as much as possible under the way he crushes you to the floor, knees carving grooves in the soft sandy earth.

“Fuck,” Mando grits, teeth clenched together so hard that you swear you can hear the grinding in his jaw. “You’re so fucking tight, fuck.”

The position is hard to maintain on the soft ground, his hands keep sliding ever so slightly on either side of you forcing him to adjust every few seconds. His patience breaks after the third time this happens, a growl crackling through the helmet as he settles his hands on your lower back and hoists his body up, knees planted on either side of your thighs, crushing them together with intense pressure on your clit. Your body is locked tight, pussy clenching harder around his cock when he rises into an upright position.

You let out a genuine scream when he draws back then thrusts sharply into you, pain mixing with pleasure in a manner far more biting than on his ship, when he had let you take control entirely, never even doing so much as to thrust into you. It is almost too much for you but even while you struggle to take his cock, you don’t dare tell him to stop, nor do you want him to stop. You’re so blinded by the stretch that you don’t realize he is speaking until you miss several, distorted words.

“Fuck, why did I wait, why did I wait? I should’ve fuck-fucked you back on the station, approached you in that hangar and made myself fucking clear-” Each gritted word is accentuated by a mean thrust, his dick is so big that he has to shove himself inside of you rather than glide, breaking you open in a way that burns so sweetly. Your legs are held together, knees locked and straight, which doesn’t help how tight you are but you can’t budge at all to open yourself to Mando, his hands pressing down at your lower back so heavily that you’re short of breath.

A garbled moan is forced out of you when Mando grinds his length into your pussy as deep as he can possibly reach, hips smashing against your ass while he pulses inside of you and for a second you think he's cumming. But no- he draws himself from your depths and starts to rut his cock between your cheeks, head resting on your upper back and hands by your head.

A powerful hand wraps under your side and settles at your sternum, pulling you back against his cuirass and lifting so that you end up seated together, fitting against him without even an inch of space between your bodies. His hand lifts your hips, other appendage snaking around to position his cock back at your entrance before allowing gravity to do the work, your legs spreading to rest on either side of his thighs as you sink down on him to the hilt.

Once settled, Mando starts to work you on his cock, lifting you like you weigh no more than a pebble then letting go. The head of his cock slams full force into your pussy with the weight of your entire body, each brutal pounding sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Lungs free and no longer crushed to the floor, you’re unable to stay quiet, broken sobs and moans puffing from gritted teeth as he takes what he denied himself on his ship, the memory a thousand miles away as your processing center is fucked stupid.

You can’t say how long this goes on for, maybe minutes, maybe hours, but the next thing you know is that your cheek is back on the sand, burning from the way it chaffs against the floor with each rhythmic thrust that claps against your thighs. You’re don’t even know if you’ve cum yet but it doesn’t matter, not with the way he is fucking the life out of you here in the wilderness. Mando is still talking, still uttering filth and praise through the helmet and all you can think about is how badly you want to hear his real voice speaking that way to you, you’re so close to asking him to take it off but you can’t find the words, you can’t think, you can’t-

Abruptly, he grinds to a halt at the deepest point in your body then pulls himself free, pushing your shirt up lighting fast before cumming across your back with a choked exclamation. You’re both still for a second before your knees collapse, landing flat on your belly and gasping desperately. There is a shuffling noise behind you, accompanied with heavy breaths from the bounty hunter. It sounds like he’s rummaging through something then, yeah- your train of thought is confirmed when a wet cloth wipes his pleasure from your skin, gently trailing along your spine and ass.

You reach behind you and hold his wrist, feeling the fluttering pulse there. “I’ll win next time…” You whisper, drawing his hand along the soreness on your bottom, the area he bruised, you suspect. He laughs- or pants you can’t really tell, but either way his touch becomes more gentle on your body, smoothing out the tense muscles and cleaning you up. Today's travels with the man have suddenly caught up to you and you might pass out right here, half clothed and dirty.

“Come on, get up. Don’t sleep here.” Mando firmly states, helping you up and guiding you across the clearing after you pull your leggings up from where they gathered at your ankle. You’re trembling like a leaf, fragile in your spent state but glowing all the same. Mando sets you down on a log and brings you a canteen of water which you gulp down thankfully. He chuckles. “Wait up or I’ll have to drink from the spring.”

That gives you pause, reminding you of something he said while you lay beneath him. You’re slightly nervous to ask but you do it anyway, warm and satisfied on your perch while he cares for you. “You.. When you were, um- fucking me. Well, you said something about how you shouldn’t have waited. Does that mean what I think it means?”

He nods, “I noticed you for other reasons too, burc’ya.”

“Maybe you should’ve fucked me back then.” Taking another gulp then handing the canteen back, you stretch then slide down to sit on the ground with him, back against the log. “You said that word before, ber-borshaw?”

“Burc’ya.”He corrects,“It means friend in Mando’a.”

“Oh.”You cheeks heat, feeling silly and rude for not recognizing the use of his people’s tongue, also noting that he used it to refer to you twice now, endearingly. It is an honor, one that makes you nervous. You feel like you should apologize, somehow. “Y-You speak Mando’a? I’ve never heard you use it before.”

Mando settles against the log, leaning his broad shoulders to rest against the wood near your side. A few moments pass before he responds, “I chose to not use it around the others. Didn’t trust them.”

“Oh, so you trust me?” You giggle, tapping the side of his helmet with your elbow. Questions burn within you and you may as well ask now, in the quiet afterglow of sex where everything is warm and slow. “Why didn’t you trust them if you started the company with Ran? How am I any different?”

“You aren’t ruthless,” he surprises you by answering immediately, and you can’t decide whether you're insulted or not before he continues. “Ruthless and cruel is all that group ended up being, and it didn’t start out that way. We weren’t just mercenaries, we had a code. In the early days, attacking a slave ship would’ve been out of the question. Ran wasn’t always so full of greed.”

Silence falls after he speaks, letting you mull over his explanation for a while while the waterfall rumbles in the background. Really, his perspective confuses you when you think back on your actions as a mercenary. Desperate to climb the ranks, to make a name for yourself, to earn credits and reputation. You suppose you conducted yourself with empathy, avoiding selection for hits that targeted innocent people if you could help it. You never had much choice in the area but it seems your actions spoke louder than realized. So much energy spent to avoid seeming weak and you never considered that your aversion doubled as strength.

“Friend…” You whisper, not of your own accord. The word floats on your tongue, a specter within your vocabulary. In your adulthood you’ve had allies, you’ve had teammates, you’ve had acquaintances, but to have a friend… it terrifies you as much as it warms your heart. You considered yourself partnered professionally with the Mandalorian and didn’t dare to consider yourself lovers, no matter how much you privately hoped. But a friend is a luxury you didn’t hold close, mainly out of fear. You lost too many as a child. For a faceless man he manages to strike areas that are quite intimate.

You decide that you’ll enjoy being his friend, a bit surprised that you aren’t too hurt by what is essentially a romantic rejection of the crush you held for so long. Probably because this is real , solid and built within reality instead of the silly fantasies you built prior.

This is better than lovers, you tell yourself, the slight ache in your heart melting into the background of your desires, behind lock and key for another world.

“I’ll take ‘friend’, Mando.” You grin, extending a hand to him cheekily. He stares for a second before taking it and shaking, helmet tilting in a respectful nod.

His next words send an unexpected pang throughout your chest, taking all the careful walls you worked hard to set up and throwing them into a blazing inferno.

“Let’s see where it goes.”

Fuck.

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

Leather boots prance lightly through thick branches high in the trees, footfalls landing silently with all the grace of an athlete. Through the delicate glasses perched on the pursuers nose, a red glow blooms on the shadowy floor of the swamp, two sets of footprints lighting up to reveal a steady path made by the travelers. A musical giggle bubbles out of the darkly dressed woman as she pulls a small holo-watch from her bag and straps it onto her wrist, pale light mixing with her lavender skin, transforming it into a sickly grey.

Xi’an claps a hand over her mouth to prevent her cackle from ringing through the trees as her plan takes form.

***

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peter-pan-on-neverland · 3 years

Text

Opposites Attract: Part 2

Request: hey may I request a one shot for your Peter Pan story if yes can you, use my real name (Zai) instead of Y/N if you please and can you have me pans total opposite like sweet, shy everything he would hate but in the end he falls for her and becomes really protective

Pairing: Pan x Zai

Warnings: Cliffhangerrrr

< Part 1

Heavy, gloomy, and dark atmosphere swept through the camp, the boys quite obviously upset but too afraid to show any grievance in front of their ruthless leader as they held tears back behind their eyes. It had been like this for a week now, but somehow I couldn't seem to share the same sadness with the boys, I didn't feel bad, I hardly knew the boy and what I did know about him I didn't like.

The loud cracks and pops of the fire pulled me from my thoughts, snapping my head up to watch the orange and red flames dance with each other. The golden glow spread across the camp, painting it, contrasting with the dark gloomy sky.

A familiar pair of green eyes were caught staring at me from across the way, meeting my brown ones. I would say it bought a light blush to spread across the King of Neverlands cheeks, but as quickly as it came it left again. It was probably a trick of the light but this wasn't the first time I had noticed him watching me, observing me. Probably wondering if I was worth keeping around or not.

I found myself spending more and more time with the cold leader of the lost boys, not because I wanted to, just because he always seemed to be around me like a phantom slowly stalking me in the night. Never leaving, never straying from the path that I created, always watching, lurking, creeping. It seemed like he kept track of my every word, making notes of where I went and what I would do, who I spoke to.

Sweat trickled down my fare skin, the sudden feeling of grease and muck made my whole body tense up in disgust, I needed a wash and soon. Rising from the makeshift bench I was sat at I began to walk out of camp, I felt his eyes following me.

Stepping over the threshold of the Lost Boys territory I released a breath I didn't know I was holding in.

It was so peaceful walking through the forest at night, there were no animals or birds to be heard as they were all sound asleep by now, there was nothing but me and the trees. They silently watched as I passed them by as if they were guiding the way to the waterfall for me, mapping out the path I would take, making sure I didn't stray, and get myself into trouble.

The sound of rushing water grew louder and louder in my ears, indicating it was a step closer to becoming clean once more.

There it was, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen before. Clear, clean water running down cliff face basking the glory of the pale moonlight causing it to glow with a powerful silver shimmer. Everything surrounded it seemed to glow too, as if this tiny part of the island was untouched by the boy's wicked ways and remained pure, holding the power of a Goddess. The flowers seemed to dance in the moonlight stretching towards the starry night sky to drink up its silver shine. The scene before captured my gaze, refusing my eyes from averting themselves. As if possessed, I stalked forward ever so slowly, scared that the delicate scenery would be ruined by my presence. It was so beautiful, I was terrified I would mess it all up it like throwing a bucket of water over a freshly painted canvas, but it was like the spirits of the water pulled me in closer and closer, beckoning me to come in and be purified by the magic it supplied the island.

Slowly, the top part of my dress slipped off my shoulders, revealing the nape of my neck to the onlooking moon. I had no reason to hide or cover myself, for I was loved, the moon welcomed me, hugging me with its beaming silver light. It continued to fall, showing the beauty of my back which connected to my behind, the cold air was not a problem for the giant in the sky protected me from any harm such as the harsh cold. White cloth that once covered me tumbled down, leaving my entire body exposed to the wilderness. Next to flee my frame were my boots, feeling my feet meeting the grass, letting it rub in between my toes, and grounding me.

I stood, completely naked and free, praising my imperfections. Smiling down at every stretch mark, kissing every scar, appreciating my moles, befriending every freckle that resided on my skin, grasping the love handles at either side of my body and giving out a giggle of happiness.

I felt like I was a child once more, so innocent and carefree. The love that poured into my heart was overwhelming, calming, freeing. As I got closer and closer to the healing water of the waterfall, my appreciation for myself only grew more and more intense. Beautiful roses seemed to empower me, tall trees gave me the courage I needed, the small koi fish which swam around in the clear waters supplied me with the grace I always knew I had. A single tear slipped down my rosy cheeks soon being washed away by the remedial waters the island gifted to me.

Drops slide over my skin, healing me from the toxicity of my old mindset. I was free, happy, cleansed, and totally whole. There is no reason for me to hide myself anymore, there was no reason to hide myself in the first place for we are all perfect no matter what we look like. Bliss consumed me, bursting into every cell in my body, flowing through my veins as I laughed and smiled, cupping the beautiful water, letting it pour through my fingertips.

I danced and cheered, this was the first time I had felt like this and no words could describe how amazing it is. I had been holding onto society's idea of the "perfect" body for too long and now I see we are all perfect, every single being in the universe is totally and utterly beautiful. All of us, children of the moon, stars, and sun as they lend us their beauty. We are pure. We are whole. We are loved.

It was only then that I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, perfects poised, leaning against a tree. Vibrant green eyes stood out the most in the dark forest, reminding me of the Cheshire cat lurking in the shadows. His arms crossing over his broad chest, veins almost popping out of them, his shirt hugged his frame nicely as if it were made for him.

I felt proud, not feeling the need to cover up, not like it matter to the king much anyway for his eye didn't scan over me as I had expected them to do. They stared deeply into mine, not moving, a smile played on his lips but there was something about it that was different. It wasn't an act of lust but rather one of amazement, as if I had taken his gaze as a hostage much like the way the waterfall had mesmerized me.

As quickly as the boy appeared in front of me he left again, surrounding himself in a cloud of dark green smoke, leaving nothing but the air in his wake.

Bright stars shimmered in the sky, lighting the way back to camp. I didn't put my shoes back on but carried them in my hands, the dirt and leaves crumbled below my feet. Camp looked more lively upon my return, the boys were finally up on their feet and dancing around the fire, clashing their sticks together and they cheered and hollered.

A small, tired voice sounded, "Zai~" He spoke, pulling on the hem of my dress.

I smiled down at the sleepy little boy, "What's up Daemon?"

"Can you read me a story?" The glimmer in his eyes made it hard to refuse his request, the little boy warmed my heart, giving his place a sense of hope and innocence.

I nodded in reply and with that his little hand grasped mine, guiding me towards his time tent that was lit with nothing but a candle. Hopping up onto the bed he pulled the cute little storybook out from under his pillow, passing it to me.

I ran my thumb over the cover whispering the title into the cold air of the night, "Peter Pan" I almost laughed at how ironic it was, no wonder the small boy had ended up here.

"Once upon a time..." I began.

As time passed the child's eyes grew too heavy for him to keep open and he let sleep consume his body. Silently, I leaned over his, placing a soft kiss upon his forehead.

"You're good with kid's," A British accent whispered, turning to face him he seemed to stand in the exact same position that he had when watching me at the waterfall, like he is a statue.

"You were watching me," I replied in a hushed tone, more as confirmation to myself rather than a question.

"I was, you're good with him," He said, "Daemon needs someone like you to keep him safe, a mother."

"I am no mother," I whispered to the king of Neverland.

"You're more a mother to him than the woman who birthed him," Pan spoke, "She starved him, beat him, and left him for dead in a street alley."

It pained me to know what he had been through, my heart cried for him. He was safe now, here with his family, here with the lost boys. How could anyone do that to someone so pure, someone so innocent and small?

Pan knew that although I didn't respond, I understood. He could see the pain that I was feeling on the boys' behalf.

"You were also watching me at the waterfall," I said.

"That I was, I admired you. Seeing the way that you danced, you were free and happy. You had the power to turn your weaknesses into strength, you're stronger than you look, little one." With that, he gave me a smile before leaving the room.

I felt a sense of pride swell up in my chest, could this be true? Could the ruthless, cold-hearted, cruel, malicious Peter Pan be proud of me? Could I possibly have earned his respect after so long of being here?

As the days passed by the boys seemed to warm up to me, allowing me to hunt with them, dancing with them around the fire, play games with them. They stopped treating me like an outcast and more like part of their family.

"Listen up boys!" Pan's voice boomed, scaring birds from trees and causing animals to sprint away, "We have some visitors."

The smirk on the boy kings face grew causing a shiver to travel up and down my spine, I felt hot all of a sudden.

The lost boys hollard and cheered, we all knew what this meant, pirates.

Excited and eager we all rushed down to the shore, weapons at the ready. The boys were ruthless and bloodthirsty, looking for a fight, I however was on the more cautious side of things. I don't like to fight, I never did, but if I didn't want to be seen as weak again it would be a smart idea for me to join them only if it is for the time being.

By the time my feet met with the sandy beach, the fight was already in full force, the sound of metal clanking with metal and battle cries filled the crisp air. From where I stood the lost boys all looked so small, like ants fighting against another colony.

Silently, I watched the scene before me unfold. People were getting hurt, boys were getting hurt. Thick red blood dyed the golden sand with no remorse and I could do nothing but watch.

So wrapped up in my own thoughts I didn't notice the dirty pirate sneaking up behind me, hand covering my mouth as he attempted to drag me to Hook's ship.

I didn't know what to do, or how to react, but I wasn't going anywhere without putting up some kind of a fight.

Wriggling and struggling against him I tried my hardest to keep my feet planted into the ground, my efforts were useless. I bit down hard at the hand covering my mouth, causing him to yelp out and grasp the attention on the others. A sharp, sneering pain exploded in my side as I let out a muffled scream, trying hard to not look weak in front of the lost boys.

My foot came down hard on his and my elbow swiftly embedded itself into his stomach before he fell to the floor with a groan, in an effort to get as far away from him and possible I stumbled to the tree line. A wet feeling covered my hands, sticking to my shirt and sides. Red, that's all I could see.

"Zai" Pan's voice filled my ears, the look of worry was noticble on his face, it was strange seeing him show any emotion other than angry, "I've got you, don't worry I've got you."

Panic flowed through my veins, who's blood was that? His or mine?

My vision quickly became blurred, it was like I was under a spell, stuck in some trance that I couldn't get out of. The king of Neverlands voice echoed around in my skull, I wanted to reply, I wanted to tell him I was fine, but the words couldn't leave my mouth before everything went black.

"Zai!" the angry shout from the leader was the last thing I heard before falling to the ground.

#ouat fanfiction #ouat fic #ouat imagine #ouat #ouat felix #ouat pan x reader #ouat peter imagine #ouat pan #ouat peter #ouat peter pan #felix ouat #ouat fan fiction #ouat ff #ouat fandom #felix fic #ouat felix imagine #felix imagines #felix x reader #pan x reader

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anyoneseenadam · 3 years

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Home: Chapter three

azriel x reader (acotar)

summary: (y/n) is a daughter of Persephone, still recovering from the trauma of her fall into Tartarus and doesn’t have time for a stupid, handsome, annoying, stunning, injured man. But now they’re stuck together in the middle of nowhere and there only chance of getting home is if she can heal him, and fast.

warnings: big spoilers for mark of Athena and house of Hades, also some for the acotar series, eventual smut, blood, PTSD, graphic descriptions of violence, injuries and torture, enemies to lovers so az is a bit of a dick to start, swearing

word count: 4.2k

a/n: I’m not entirely happy with this chapter but I wanted to get it done so I apologise if its shit and pls comment and let me know :))))

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When Azriel woke up, the sun was just beginning to rise although it appeared you had been awake for hours, you had stitched together cups, bowls, plates and had even sewn his Illyrian leathers back together, his top folded carefully next to him. He looked for you, not seeing you straight away and instead seeing a blanket you had stitched crumpled on the ground and a trail of footprints leading to the water’s edge, blushing bright red when he saw your clothes on the side of the bank. He looked and saw you standing facing away from him, watching the sun rise, with the water pooling around your waist. You were shivering slightly, running your hands over your skin in an attempt to clean away the dirt and sweat that had built up. He watched as you kneeled and tilted your head back tentatively, wetting your hair and massaging your scalp gently for a few minutes, he watched entranced as you stood back up, lifting your hair, and gently squeezing the excess water from it, basking in the sun as it slowly dried and heated your skin, unknowingly revealing the whole expanse of your back to Azriel who was staring with a sick feeling building up in his stomach. Who did that to her? Unimaginable levels of anger built up at the sight and Azriel was overcome with a burning desire to destroy anything and everything that brought you pain, but soon you began to turn around to come back to shore, and he forced himself to lie back down and close his eyes, falling asleep once again as he thought of revenge and your scars.

When he woke up again, the sun was much higher in the sky, and from what he could tell it appeared to be around nine in the morning. (y/n) was dressed again and her hair had dried due to the heat from the sun. She had pulled it out of her face and was frowning at her cup.

“Are your cups leaking?” he asked, voice deeper from sleep, trying to not feel smug at her sharp intake of breath.

“No, I’m a genius don’t worry. This water just tastes like shit,”

“Well did you get it from upstream?” She raised her eyebrows at his question,

“I’m not stupid.”

“I was just asking,”

“Still.”

“It’s probably just still got dirt in it, you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure,”

“Hmpf,” he laughed at her as she forced the water down with a shudder, before passing him a full cup. He took a tentative sip and frowned at her.

“This tastes normal.”

“Do you often drink river water?”

“Well…”

“Ew.” She laughed moving away from him as he stuck his middle finger up at her, making her laugh again, before chucking an apple at him, which he caught just before it hit him in the head.

“I thought you said I would feel horribly ill this morning.” He pointed out, he didn’t feel that bad, perhaps a little sick but he had been stabbed the day before.

“Oh you will, don’t worry,” She smiled at him, “I’d say you probably have about an hour, so I’m going to make us a treehouse.”

“A treehouse?” He furrowed his brows at the unknown phrase, she just laughed, pushing on her knees to stand up.

“You’ll see.”

He sat up fully and grabbed his top, pulling it over his head as she walked away, presumably looking for a good place to put her ‘treehouse’. The sight of her clothed back made the sick feeling in his stomach come back, he desperately wanted to ask her about it, but she was young, and they looked relatively new. It had been centuries since his hands had been scarred and he doubted it had been much more than a year for hers, and those weren’t wounds you moved past quickly, he still felt uncomfortable when people stared for too long. She stopped roughly a hundred feet away from where he sat and cracked her neck and knuckles.

“I’m going to need lots of water after this, cause I’m going to be drained, do you mind?” she asked, gesturing to the river. He started taking his shoes off as she held her hands up in front of her, he moved, wading ankle-deep into the river and filled the cups with relatively clean water, walking back and moving to stand near her, watching in awe as one of the thicker trees started to warp, lower branches forming a floor, and higher forming the roof, then more branches from other trees joined, creating walls and a small ladder leading up to an outside deck. Soon enough there was a small hut in the trees, and he smiled, turning to look at her. She was standing swaying slightly, all the colour drained from her face and he moved to hold her up, passing her one of the cups. She drank from it greedily, leaning heavily on his side, making him grimace at the pain and pass her the second cup, which she drank with as much vigour.

“That was incredible,” he whispered, tearing his eyes of the structure to look down at her, she was gazing up at him with an unreadable expression. He was struck by her beauty as he stared at her gentle eyes that held too much pain for such a young girl, his eyes flashing down to her soft lips which were beckoning him in. Without thinking he started to lean in slightly, before quickly tearing away from her, vomiting all over the ground behind him. He flushed bright red as she started laughing behind him, but soon let out a chuckle at her contagious laugh.

“Okay maybe an hour was pushing it, c’mon let’s get you sorted,” she said, moving to reach down into the river, filling one of the cups with water, slowly walking back over to him, kneeling next to him, and helping him drink as he was overcome with weakness. “told you so,” she smiled cheekily at him as he spat the water back out.

“Okay really, let’s get you inside, I’ll clean this up later.” She hooked a shoulder under his arm and helped him stand, walking him over to the ladder, moving to climb up but he just held tightly onto her and flew to the small porch she had made them, laughing silently when she squealed at the sudden flight.

“Asshole.” She muttered, practically forcing him through the hole in the wall and to sit down before she was turning around and leaving. As he waited for her to return he thought of his family who must be getting worried as he had sent word that he would be returning and now two days later he was in the middle of nowhere, in a completely different world with no way of contacting home. He wished Rhysand was here, then at least he could maybe winnow home. But the thought of leaving you felt wrong. You had already done so much for him and at least deserved to have him get you home.

He heard you struggling outside, but when he tried to stand to help you bring the small stash of appliances up, he was overcome by another bout of nausea and had to sit back down. Eventually their appliances, wrapped carefully in the blanket you had stitched the night before, were thrown over the balcony, Azriel’s’ heart warming at the cheer he heard from below, laughing as she appeared over the ledge with a pout.

“Stop laughing at me, I was going through something,” She scolded, picking up her bundle and bringing it over to him, arranging the cups and bowls on a ledge jutting out of the tree trunk then turning and throwing the blanket over the ground, motioning for him to move to it. He sat on it, groaning at the slightest of movements as she set about stitching something else.

“I thought you were going to nullify me, so I didn’t have to spew.”

“I said I would try. And even if it works it will take a while and you’ll definitely be spewing between now and then.”

“What happens if you can’t?”

“Worse case scenario I need you to get enough strength to take us back home, I have something that I’m 99% sure will work there.” He sat silently after she spoke, the word ‘home’ clanging through him. His shadows were crowding around him, growing thicker as he thought. He still wasn’t sure whether to trust her. She was nice, sure. And easy to talk to but there was something hidden in her eyes, he didn’t know what she had seen, or what she had done, to get a scarred back like that. He thought back over their previous conversations and realised he had practically told her his life story.

As he thought, he felt the walls that the pain in his side had begun to bring down slam back up. She was speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear her over the roaring in his head, only lifting his eyes again, when she stood suddenly and left. He would observe her first, that’s what he should’ve done. This girl wasn’t his family, she wasn’t Mor, and she wasn’t Elain, no matter how many flowers she grew. He didn’t know her, and he certainly couldn’t trust her.

You didn’t know what you did wrong, but something had changed in Azriel. As you explained how the chemical you kept at home worked, his eyes had glazed over, his facing hardening into an unreadable expression. You stopped talking when you realised he wasn’t listening, shame coursing through your chest and settling in your gut, your hands aching as anxiety ran through you. You had stood quickly and left, practically running from the room to avoid him seeing your shaking hands.

You knew what he was doing of course. The expression that slid over his face wasn’t new, it was practiced the same way you had practiced lifting your chin and straightening your back when men didn’t take you seriously. Practiced the same way your scowl was when people made a few too many jokes about your fall. Practiced the same way your steps had been, moving silently around your house, around camp, around town, since you got out. Always afraid that someone would find you, wake you, force you back.

You had left and instead sat on the riverbank, slowing your breathing in an attempt to settle the embarrassment coursing through you. Of course he didn’t want to be friendly with you, he probably had all the friend he needed back home. You were just the stupid girl he got stuck with. You had let your desperate wish for a friend get the best of you. All you wanted was someone to scare the nightmares away, so you didn’t have to. You started stitching again, your thoughts moving to quickly for you to keep up, tears welling in your eyes as you over thought every interaction, every word. You needed something that would silence your thoughts, and you let out a choked laugh as you started quietly singing one of your favourite songs, horribly off-key, and choked due to your tears, but noise all the same. You wished for your home, your headphones, your stuffed toys, your bed, anything familiar. The weight of the situation that you were in finally catching up to you. You looked back down to the basin you were making, rushing to finish it, needing to move or do something, anything.

Once you had finished it you schooled your features, hiding all traces of your emotions, letting the mask slip back on and cover your pain. Climbing back up to Azriel, he was still sat of the blanket you had laid out when you laid the basin beside him.

“I’m going to go explore, yell if you need anything.” You said, hating how curt your voice sounded, adding a smile at the end, knowing he wouldn’t be manipulated that easily. He didn’t reply, just kept staring, the same way he had when you had first arrived. You opened your mouth to say something else, but your anxieties bubbled into your throat before you could, forcing you to instead simply turn and leave.

You made your way east, sticking to the riverbank, smiling when you met a white cockatoo, having a quiet conversation with it. You continued that way for at least an hour, before finally turning back and following the same route, singing stupid songs you had learned on quests to yourself when it got to quiet outside, and too loud inside. When you got back you checked on Azriel, cleaning out his basin without a word and helping him lay down. He thanked you quietly, but you just smiled, hating how quickly things had severed between you. You tried to convince yourself that he was probably just tired as you set to making a fire and growing vegetables that you could easily cook for lunch and dinner, then refilling the jug of water for Azriel.

You remained outside for the rest of the day.

Azriel felt like pure shit. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so sick he threw up, but he didn’t want to make it a tradition. He also felt horrible for severing the bond you two had sort of made. He had to give you credit, you were observant, and good at adapting. Just as quickly as his walls slid up, a mask came over your face, he couldn’t even read your eyes, your extremely expressive eyes.

You stayed outside practically all day. He heard you singing at one point and smiled through his wince. It was horribly off-key but made his chest tighten inexplicitly again.

He contemplated making conversation again when you came up, and handed him a plate of food, but you were unresponsive. He silently cursed himself for his untrusting nature. Cassian probably would have already wooed his way into your bed. Mor too for that matter. Feyre and Rhysand would’ve become fast friends with you, probably talking you through whatever trauma you had. But he didn’t have his family’s gifts when it came to new people and he was pretty sure whatever relationship you had was gone now, in such a short time. So instead he just let his tired limbs take charge and laid back again, wings and shadows wrapping around him, falling into a light sleep. You didn’t come up into the shelter that night, and he tried not to feel guilty about it.

The next morning you awoke early again, a long night of nightmares and freezing cold getting to you. You stood slowly, stretching out your limbs, and looking around your makeshift campsite. You didn’t have enough energy to grow the soft plants you needed to make another blanket last night, so you just pulled your jacket tighter around your frame and shivered your way through the night. You had hoped that the blistering heat during the day would help in some way, but all you had gained was tender, red tinted skin and dry, cracking hands.

You plucked four apples from the tree you had grown and moved to climb up to Azriel. He was also already awake, bent over the basin. You moved over to him instinctively, rubbing the space between his wings on his back. He was gasping for breath for a moment before hastily leaning back over and you cooed softly at him, pulling his hair away from his face the same way you had when your friends drank too much, or when they were brought to throw up due to nightmares. When he finally finished, you kept rubbing his back smiling slightly when he moved back into your gentle touch, still gasping for breath. After he calmed down, slumping back you passed him some water, holding his glass as he spat it back into the basin, before grabbing it and going to rinse it off in the river.

When you got back he was slowly eating one of the apples you brought up and taking tiny sips of water. You gave him a sympathetic look and went to sit in front of him. Downing a glass of water in preparation for the task you had at hand. Your hand tentatively moved to his side, where his wound remained unhealed, the tissue turning black from the poison, keenly aware of his eyes watching your movements. As you began to feel out the poison in his body you slowed your breathing and straightened your back.

“I’m not a healer, so this might not work at all.” You whispered, “So I’m sorry in advance.”

“Don’t apologise for trying.” He whispered back, voice hoarse. You closed your eyes, focusing on a small patch of the poison in his stomach. The poison was carbon-based, you could tell, and so you put your energy into turning it into food particles that could be broken down naturally. The two of you sat in silence like that for an hour as you focused all your energy into that small patch of poison, you could feel a sweat building up on your forehead, both from the heat and from the exertion. Eventually you withdrew, grabbing a cup and filling it with water, oblivious to Azriel’s keen gaze on your face, eyes filled with wonder and affection. He had felt your power coursing through him and became greedy for more, his shadows curling around both of you as you worked, oblivious to the world around you. He had to put serious effort into pulling them back to him when you had moved away, his shadows seeking to bring you back to him, to hold him like you did when he threw up, the caring affectionate touches so foreign yet welcome to him that he almost didn’t mind the horrible feeling of spewing.

After downing three cups of water and eating both your apples you looked back at Azriel. “Feel any better?” He did, but not the way you meant so he just shrugged.

“A bit, it was nice.” You smiled at him. A rare, soft, tired smile that made him want to hold you to his chest and protect you from this cruel world.

“I’ll let you rest then, shout if you need anything.”

“Actually, could you maybe help me down, I need to stretch my legs.” He requested.

“Of course, c’mon.” you slung an arm around his waist, careful to avoid his wings, and helped him stand, and walk to the ladder, moving through the doorway first in order to give him the space to tuck his wings in. You climbed down the ladder as he all but floated down, before standing back, turning away when you realised he was going to piss. You went back to where you had slept and started pottering, tending to the mini vegetable patch you had made. He came back soon after and sat across from you on a log. Unlike yesterday, the silence that followed wasn’t too uncomfortable.

That’s how the next three days went. You would sleep outside, while he stayed inside. Helping him through his sickness and taking a few hours each day to nullify the poison coursing through his system. You were making polite conversation, but the long talks like the ones you had when you first arrived were gone, and you almost mourned the hateful relationship you started with. You just wanted something to fill the silence, even if it was yelling and hateful words. But Azriel remained quiet and reserved and you remained oblivious to the shadows that moved towards you when you looked away.

One day however, when you were sat next to him and talking about his home, the world you had begged him to tell you about, a red bird had landed on the porch outside. Azriel had noticed instantly due to the way you had stilled, the colour draining from your face and he followed your gaze to the red bird.

“(y/n).” he uttered quietly, desperate to get that distant look off your face, he had never realised how much energy your soft smiles gave him, the way your sarcastic comments added to his stories, making him genuinely laugh. He repeated your name again, but when he got no response his shadows acted, surrounding you and pulling you to him. You turned and looked at him, eyes terrified and before he could think about it he was pulling you into his arms, holding you head to his chest as soft sobs filled the room.

You pulled away after a few minutes, breathing deeply and counting under your breath, he continued running his hand up and down your back and cooing in the way you did when he threw up.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Gods this is so embarrassing.”

“No! Don’t be embarrassed, it happens to everyone,”

“I just- I thought I was past this stage, I thought I was improving,”

“Do you mind me asking why you can’t look at anything red?” He was speaking slowly, afraid he would say the wrong thing, tensing when you drew in a shaky breath, eyes still trained on the floor. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, focusing on your breathing before finally speaking.

“Have you heard of Tartarus?” you asked, and he shook his head slightly, “Well as you saw when you kill monsters they don’t leave bodies, and that’s because they reform. They go to Tartarus, which is basically the underworld for monsters.” You paused wiping the stray tears from your face and he tentatively reached out to grab your hand.

“One day, I had been injured in a fight- broke a rib or something- and I was leaning on my friend Annabeth, she had just completed a quest and we were about to get back on our ship. She had fought a big spider or something, the details are fuzzy sometimes.” You shook your head, “the spider had fallen into Tartarus but before it fell it had wrapped its silk around Annabeth, and when it fell, so did we. Percy- Annabeth’s boyfriend- fell too when he tried to grab us. Nearing the end of the fall, a fury had grabbed me, taking me away from them. And then, until they got back to me, Tartarus took on a human body and he… y’know. The one thing that always stuck out down there was the colour red. The ground was red, the rivers were red, the sky was dark, but red all the same. And Tartarus, his eyes were red. I haven’t been able to look at it since.”

You finished explaining, eyes focused on the random shapes you were tracing on the wood, not wanting to look up as Azriel remained silent.

“How long were you there?” he eventually asked, voice filled with rage.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t have much of a hold on time down there,” you whispered and Azriel had to work hard to reel in his magic, the siphons on his hands starting to glow as he got angrier. But he looked at her again and found his heart shattering at the pained look in her eyes, and he went against everything he was.

“When I was a boy I spent all my days locked in a room without windows. For eleven years I was kept in that room. My father was a Lord, but I was bastard born, so I was kept in a cell, only allowed to go outside for an hour each day and to meet my mother for about an hour each week. They didn’t let me fly either, even as all my instincts begged to. Eventually they dumped me at an Illyrian camp, where I discovered I was a shadow-singer and learned how to fly.” You were staring at him in horror, hand clutching his tighter.

“How did you recover from that kind of pain?” you asked voice wobbling,

“I met people I loved, people that wouldn’t give up on me. I met my true brothers, brothers that would treat me like real family should,” You smiled softly at the way he spoke of his brothers,

“I’m shit with people.” You admitted,

“Well I’m also very old, sometimes it just takes time.”

“How old?”

“537…”

“You fucking WHAT?” he laughed at your expression, smiling widely when you laughed too. You leant back against the wall again, resting your head on his shoulder, your panic attack and sharing of emotions catching up on you, but happy that Azriel was opening up again.

“You know if I ever meet your biological family, they may find that they’ll lose some precious parts.” You whispered, cutting through the silence. His shoulders shook as they laughed, and he rested his head on top of yours.

“Now that, I would like to see.”

#Azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acomaf #acofs #acofas #rhysand #feyre #pjo #hoo

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

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@ava-sr said: EE i do apologize that this is late, but maybe a small request because of my moblit-brainrot. which dates he would like to take you on? maybe like one of those guided painting classes? aGh all i know is that man is the absolute sweetest and i love him with all my heart

Types of dates with Moblit pt.1

{ Moblit x reader | tw:none | fluff | modern }

{ "Vanitas Still Life" 1662 by Edwaert Collier c. 1640 - after 1707 London or Leiden }

Ideal dates : these are dates he plans up ahead, makes sure they go smoothly and you're both are having fun. He really looks forward to these dates, they're like an event for him. He saves them up for important occasions like your anniversary, valentine's day, birthday.

I. Cuddling for hours at a time

you have to understand that in Moblit's overworked and stressful life, moments of respite are rare and far. He's so deprived of touch and love that it's a miracle how he has managed to function without even a beep. The thought of having someone to warm his bed, cradle his worries and put them to rest by simply combing through his hair, never crossed his mind despite having a hundred thoughts running through it per minute.

Some days he manages to forget your existence even, not out of some selfish desire or to belittle you, but out of disbelief, after all it's too good to be true.

You're too good to be true to him.

Your tender words pull him back each time he blindly steps closer to the edge, a never-ending spiral of self-destructive work tendencies awaiting him at the bottomless abyss. Your warm embrace shutting out the swarm of nagging voices meant to guilt him out of rest, to act as if the key to curing his sleep deprivation was to not acknowledge its existence, that fatigue symptoms could be erased by his own homemade placebo remedies.

As if your mere touch could turn anything to gold, and in his case, it did.

It was what made the difference between an anxiety inducing catastrophic day, and a mere rough stepping stone he could easily manoeuvre around leaving his pace steady and undisturbed.

Reminding that it's okay to fail, to give something your best only for it to crumble to dust. It's a process of trial and error, it takes time and patience.

You don't get to choose how well things end up working out, it's not up to you nor is it your place.

And that's why for him, his ideal place in the world is in your arms, to simply let the rise and fall of your chest lull him into comfortable numbness. His features softening as the oxytocin levels rise, courtesy of your warm embrace, soft skin providing just the right pressure against his own.

Laying on your shared bed together, the soft breeze coming from the open windows moves the thin curtains. Moblit is Holding you close as one of his arms sneak around you, fingertips tracing shapes up and down your back. Face buried in your shoulder as yours rests on top of his head, stray hairs almost tickling your nose when you brush against them.

The passing of time does little to his cotton filled mind, occasionally attempting to pull you even more closer as if it's possible. Legs tangled with yours under the heavy blanket despite him hogging most of it.

Every now and then, when a certain amount of time passes, he'd look at you with half-closed eyes, a lidded look of satisfaction before murmuring in his sleepy voice.

"Do you want to get up?" And despite his sincere words and warm tone, his body makes no move to detach itself from your side.

Does he know the soothing effect of the circles he keeps drawing up your back? Or how much him talking with his lips still pressed against your neck makes you melt just a bit.

Whatever it is, Moblit seems confident in his ability to keep you snuggled against him, tucked underneath the warm blanket and fluffy pillows almost muffling your answer.

II. Visiting a music bar

Preferably something with soft yellowish lights, small enough spaces not meant for dancing but to create an intimate atmosphere akin to a music venue.

A jazz club, maybe a brewery.

Dimmed sunlight seeping through the thin curtained window, shadow traces of people smoking outside while making small talk, cushioned bar stools placed around the long bar with a mirrored wall behind it as several aged bottles and fancy glasses with signatures decorate the wooden shelves.

The quiet chatter of people blurring behind the mellow music the band is playing on the nearby stage, smooth movement with relaxed postures as if they've done this a hundred times before, and they probably have.

You're sitting in one of the booths near the window, a private spot where you're far enough for people not to notice yet close enough to still hear the music flowing.

The beat is slow, hypnotising even that the minutes blur together.

Moblit giving you a smile as he comes back with your drinks, sitting opposite of you before handing you the cold glass, ice cubes clinking against each other as you raise the frosted rim to your lips, sugary sweet filling your senses, the cooling sensation of the drink slides down your throat.

There's a hint of citrus in it.

You've learned to trust Moblit's choice in drinks after being together for so long, he just knows what's going to taste good and which kind of drink you seem to need without having to say a word.

He seems comfortable here, even referring to the bartender by his name like they've been friends for a while, and maybe they have judging by the out-of-script welcoming he gave Moblit.

One conversation starts another and both of you find it so easy to talk to each other without boundaries or second thoughts, the smiles and occasional chuckles almost never leaving your features while nursing on your drinks.

He tells you stories from his work and about his co-workers. You find yourself entranced by his seemingly abusered line of work and the amount of chuckle worthy instances a single work day can offer.

That one time Hange knocked the liquid incense oils that someone Levi brought to freshen the place, well to their luck the oils fell directly on an open flame from the nearby scented candle which resulted in the fire spreading through the liquid alcohol between the broken glass.

And despite the feeling of dread, from seeing his files catch on fire this story brings him, the sound of your chocked laughter as you almost spilled your drink over your clothes, made it all worth it for him.

III. Antique shop

There was something to be said about Moblit's yearning for especially old looking things, trinkets, crumpled maps, tea stained letters and silvered mirrors.

You can't miss the gleam in his eyes as he opens the antique store door open for you the chime of the door bells following after. The smell of burning incense lingering in the air alongside the slow ticking of an old wooden clock.

The look on his face is of pure fascination, his eyes following the trail of the objects lined on the tables, from the old oil paintings with hand carved frames to the crystals reflecting sunlight next to the colourful stones. Observing as he carefully walks behind you through the narrow spaces between the tables and shelves.

Pulling your attention whenever he finds a particular curious thing to show you as if it's an offering, it can range from music boxes with a really familiar melody that you can't quite remember or a beautifully shaped rose quartz stone that feels cool against your palm.

Whatever he brings, it often manages to intrigue you in some way. Moblit could always notice things other people would skip over otherwise, scanning the tables was like a small treasure hunt.

He'd always pick one or two leather journals, almost filled to the brim with ink scribbled pages and tea stained spots, personal diaries dating back to the 90's and if he's lucky they might edge towards the 80'. He likes to read them, live in someone else's shoes even for a split second, puzzle pieces falling in place as he figures out what kind of person the author was.

Of course sharing his discoveries with you while having lunch later, not out of pride nor to show off, but out of genuine respect to other people's lives and their dedication for leaving behind a piece of their soul.

IX. Roadtrip

It's something he plans months ahead in advance, he genuinely wants to make the best out of the few weeks off both of you got to spend together. Making sure to plan a set of destinations, preparing snacks and food, packing your essentials and renting a big enough van.

A small getaway even, to completely leave everything behind and set out on a carefully planned adventure with the one he loves most, you.

Enjoying the fresh weather, the high sun and fast wind as both of you roll down the windows, fields of green and yellow meet you alongside the road the further away you move from the city.

Although be careful; the Moblit behind the wheel is a much much more different than the one you know, he's using all what remains of his self-restraint not to speed down the highway and swirl, the thought crosses his mind every hour or so and he's visibly agitated when you're forced to drive behind a particularly slow driver.

You might even have to remind him of the speed limit occasionally just so you don't end up with a pile of speeding tickets at the end of the trip.

It's like all his usually cautious and calculating demner evaporates into mist the second he touches the steering wheel, Temptations of just flooring it while high on adrenaline still linger in the back of his mind.

Beside that, the trip is a relatively calm one as you get to bask in all the new and different places you'll get to visit. Try new food and walk through different city streets, just the experience of something out of the usual is enough to satisfy Mobilt. Not to mention the fact he gets to experience it with you and just wander around without a purpose or care as long as you're together.

He'll definitely keep in mind what sort of things you seem to like, what intrigues you and the kind of reactions you show. He even started an album filled with mostly your pictures and the things you've seen.

It's most relaxing and filled with low stakes, nothing too fancy but nothing too boring either. Walking the thin line perfectly.

X. Visiting a museum

But not just any museum you see, one centred around natural history. Displaying everything from ancient fossils to full on skeleton displays of a 122 foot titanosaur, depictions of distant relatives of homosapiens and modern evolution trees of the current animals.

Moblit guiding you through the shiny tile floor and between the exhibits while holding your hand, eyes gleaming with passion as he goes on and on about each thing you glance at. Making all the trivial facts seem more fascinating than they have any right to be.

The squeaking sound of footsteps echoing on the too clean floors as four children pass you by, racing each other towards the iron suits of armour on display. They almost fall over the red ropes from leaning too close in, their caregiver seemingly busy talking with a security guard over the 'smoking not allowed' sign.

You spare them a final glance before following Moblit through the corridor leading to the world history & old inventions section. Soon enough he steals your attention again as he begins talking about the first airplane prototype that you can't help but be enamoured by.

Despite there being a sign framed on the wall that sums up the jest of Moblit's lecture, he manages to make it not only less boring but add his own twist and uncommon known facts to it that it feels less of a history trip and of an interesting conversation.

He has so much knowledge that he's so eager not to only share but hear your own opinion and take on it, valuing your view no matter what amount of knowledge you have over the subject.

XI. Painting together

It's an idea that you offhandedly suggested after your museum visit, after all spending an hour in the Impressionism era gallery did leave an impression on you. And so the suggestion of checking out an art store for some acrylics and a couple brushes left your lips on the way home without a second thought.

Well little did you know that the small suggestion managed to latch into Moblit's brain for weeks after, making him spend his free time searching and gaining information on painting and how to start, he even managed to find some really good classes having a limited time course sale

That's how both of you end up in a guided painting class, seated next to each other with aprons on and a pallet to mix paint tubes in. You'll find out how much of a fast learner Moblit is, so much that most of the class he spends guiding your hand through the steps and offering his help whenever possible, although he still remembers not to be overbearing and still gives you space.

Both of you are in your own bubble from the class, being with him makes you feel easy and more reassured. He's like your very own comfort corner that you seek in every party, except that he can walk around with you and always looks out for you.

And whatever you end up putting on that canvas, Moblit will cherish more than any renaissance painting, will even insist on hanging it somewhere in the apartment.

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years

Note

A yandere Chromeskull with a reader who grew up in a emotionally neglectful home making her really touch-starved and very accepting of the affection Jesse is offering her. 😊

I don’t know if I made him yandere, but I certainly didn’t. Sorry....

Chromeskull x Reader- Don Julio and Childish Flaws

The black Bentley stopped into the parking lot of an expensive restaurant in Jacksonville and Jesse Cromeans got out, adjusting his Versace black dress-jacket, making sure he was as presentable as ever after all looks were very important to him, the power designer clothes and a Rolex were mind-numbing and people would say he was a narcissist, but like hell would Jesse go for cheap at the corner shops.

Fuck what people think!

It was very amusing to him, because people always threw themselves at him, be it for his status, money, tattoos, or very influential power he had. So, of course, it was funny when they accused him of being a prideful egocentric jerk because the next five minutes they were on their knees sucking on his cock.

He smirked at the memories of having a piggy choke on his cock in a bathroom at a gala party.

Despite all of this, something made him think twice about his life and that had to do at the last rich party that one of his partners in business threw. It all started with discussions about wives and marriage.

Jesse rolled his eye at the word wife. He tried marriage and didn't end well...on his deceased ex-wife's part. Hearing all the men at the party talk about their pregnant wives, following weddings and what-not domestic life made his chest constrict and it wasn't the alcohol.

Talk about a middle-age crisis, but that's what got Jesse to be so thoughtful in the past month.

Everyone was getting married, creating a family, and here he was adjusting his silk tie in the black tinted window of his car.

Before his ex-wife and after, he filled that void with piggies of all type, because you don't want a woman to bicker day and night about where you've been, how was work or simply sticking her nose in your business.

It all changed when each night before he went to sleep and in the morning when he woke up, he would look at the empty side of his California king-sized bed.

Now, he should be nervous, because it wasn't his first date with you, but he wanted to make sure everything is perfect, always put on a good impression, and make sure that your ego is being rubbed on.

Maybe that's the reason why this was the fourth date with you, because all his associates, when they found out about the two of you, have said things that made Jesse feel like a king....a winner.

'She's so young. Way to go, stud!'

'She's twice your age! You lucky bastard.'

'Wish I was in your shoes, man.'

Yes, all those words made Jesse's chest puff with haughtiness.

Back to where we are...After doing a once check-over he walked to the front entrance of the restaurant where you waited for him. He could help, but swallow down as he took in your appearance; a nice black Chanel dress with silver stilettos, make-up, and hair perfectly done.

A true beauty, so much more revigorating than the silicone boosted piggies he used to fuck or kill, of course, killing was the last thing he wanted to do to you, maybe kill your mind with nerve-wracking orgasms, but that's perhaps for later.

"Hello, Jesse." You greeted him with a big smile and he returned it with a toothy grin, walking towards you, then he kissed your cheek, a slight blush on them.

'Shall we?' he signed, and you gripped his arm, the two of you step inside and into a private lounge, drawing the chair out for you to sit on.

"What a gentleman." you said with a cheeky smile.

He sat down opposite from you, and a waiter came in to give the menus, asking what you wanted to drink before you would order food. You went with a Don Julio because this time it was your turn to choose the drink.

'I had this drink just once. Crazy night.' Jesse signed as he looked through the menu. After a little time, you both ordered the same thing, then the drinks arrived and you both cheered for tonight.

"So? How's work?" you asked, taking a small sip of the strong liquor.

Jesse was a little tense because to him work had two meanings; basking in mountains of paperwork or chase down women in skimpy clothes with two twin knives.

'Could have been better.' he signed a little reluctantly, avoiding your gaze.

"I can understand that. I am still working on my novel and I kind of have a writer block. It's like a black void of nothing." you told him with a sigh, noticing that the conversation wasn't going anywhere.

This was awkward and you resumed to spin the alcohol in your glass, trying not to act offended by your date's ignorance.

Jesse cursed himself, noticing that his cold attitude wasn't making you feel any comfortable, so one of his larger hands took one of yours, rubbing your knuckles soothingly, his face into a sad furrow.

'Sorry, doll. I'm not that used to this kind of....dating.' he signed, your eyes observing him more.

Yes, in the past dates you had with him he pretty much told you about the awkwardness of formal dating to say so and you could understand. It was so much different from booty-calls and paying a hooker to jump on your dick.

You figured a man of his status was very confident, but here he was acting like a virgin high-schooler. That thought made you giggle and his gaze bore into your skull.

"Sorry." you apologized with a cough and gave him an assuring smile.

"Remember what I said on our first date? Just be natural, yourself, don't try to please me with all the gentleman act, although it's very sweet of you."

Be himself? If he was acting like his true self he would have the waitresses gutted from throat to groin, and the waiter's dick cut off for giving you a not so professional look.

'It's all new for me.' he signed with a shrug, your hand coming to grasp his, and he did what you told him, brought your hand to his lips that brushed the skin of your hand, making you close your eyes, a content sound escaping your mouth.

Jesse also learned something interesting about you in the past dates, that you were touch starved, the simplest touches of affection making you putty in his arms, from rubbing your shoulders soothingly, to holding your hand and kisses on the cheek, you always leaned on for more, but the dates always ended when things got more interesting.

He broke the loving gesture when the food arrived and you eat in silence, continuing to drink and pretty much have a good time, acting all-natural thanks to the strong drinks that went on and on.

"And like I said, my parents, were always working and the divorce didn't help that much. My grandmother used to raise me more, but she died and I pretty much had to live with the fact that affection is a luxury I cannot afford." you blabbered, taking another sip of your drink, brows furrowing at the thought.

'I can give you that luxury.' Jesse signed, moving his chair closer to you.

That caught your attention. Your past lovers always said you were way too clingy and they needed 'space', so you didn't have that much luck when it came to a stable relationship, and you weren't that desperate to resume to cheap one-night stands that would leave you even more touch-starved in the morning after.

You could feel yourself blush more as Jesse looked with intensity at you.

"Don't make empty promises." you murmured and you squeaked when a hand touched your thigh, thumb brushing your bare skin.

'I am serious. This is our fourth date and I really love your company. You're different.' he signed, and you nibbled on your bottom lip nervously.

"I know, I enjoy spending time with you, Jesse....But, I mean...I am kind of young and perhaps I don't know what I want from life and I certainly don't want to burden you with my childish attitude." you explained, feeling all of sudden more self-conscious.

'I always liked them younger. Far more exciting than the stuck-up hags my age that doesn't have a sense of humor.' he signed with a smirk, making you giggle and automatically move closer to him.

He certainly had a strange and dark sense of humor, but it was growing on you, and for a 40-year-old man he sure acted like a teenager, which was unique.

"I know I can be sometimes clingy..." you whispered, his brown eye moving from your eyes to your lips and back up.

'I certainly don't mind. I love my baby girl to be hungry for his daddy.' he signed ravenously with a cheeky grin and you slapped his shoulder lightly.

"Don't speak like that! You make it sound like I have daddy issue." you muttered, glaring at him, your faces so close to one another.

'You do, princess. But let me tell you, I won't neglect you and everything you want I can get you; clothes, jewelry, cars, luxurious vacations. Just say your price.' he signed slowly.

Maybe he was desperate, but Jesse Cromeans is never desperate, but one thing for sure is that whatever Chromeskull wants, Chromeskull gets.

You hummed in thought, then moved your lips to his ear.

"How about cuddling tonight after this dinner, and maybe watching a home movie? I do need inspiration for my book and there is this new horror movie." you whispered, your hand moving to his black-clad thigh, giving it a squeeze.

Jesse was grinning like he won the lottery, his arms coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his lap. You giggled at his childish self, perhaps more so than you.

You poured another two glasses of Don Julio, handing him one.

"For the start of our relationship?" you asked, raising your glass in salute as he did the same.

'For the two of us.'

#Laid to rest 2009 #Chromeskull: Laid to rest 2 #Chromeskull #Jesse Cromeans #chromeskull x reader #jesse cromeans x reader #slasher x reader #horror movies

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callumsmitchells · 4 years

Text

so in love with you (ao3)

for @halfwayinit who motivated me to write this - and gave me an idea for the public moment x

one

It just stumbles out, the first time that it happens. It’s a word that would never normally appear in Ben’s vernacular, yet somehow it just makes complete and utter sense.

Plus, if it makes Callum’s blush turn as red as a rose petal, the enticing colour of it daring to be pinched by a passer by, then it’s definitely a word he should be using more often.

It happens when they’re in bed, the earth still clinging onto the last dregs of the sunlight it’s had during the day and Ben is already struggling to keep the weight of his eyelids from falling shut for a night. He’s just so comfortable there, basking in the warmth that Callum - and the bed, but mainly Callum - supplies. Callum’s index finger and thumb are tracing up and down Ben’s back, soothing his skin. Occasionally there’s a sharp scratch from Callum’s nails, and he presses a soft kiss of an apology instantly to Ben’s hairline, breathing in his scent. There’s a daft smile on Callum’s face, sated and unrelentingly happy, even in the most normal of settings. Ben’s wrapping around him, not daring to be apart for even so much as a second, and this level of love they both feel is just so much.

It’s Ben that breaks the silence that’s been building up between them, all warm and cosy. “You’re gorgeous.” He says, and he’s wrapping his body around Callum’s even tighter now, begging to be closer and closer. “D’you know that?”

Callum chuckles, but it’s low and soft and Ben can’t help but grin at how beautiful he looks when he’s this happy. “Am I?” Callum whispers, and his hand is red hot against Ben’s skin now, pulling them ever closer, Ben now practically laying on top of Callum.

Ben nods, and lets his lips touch Callum’s bare chest, puckering a gentle kiss. He looks up at Callum through fluttering eyelashes, and a smile grows, lighting up Ben’s entire face. “The most gorgeous man in the world.” Ben confirms, and there’s a break in his voice as tears start to bubble in his tear ducts, threatening to escape. He looks down, trying to mask the emotions he’s feeling, but he doesn’t care if Callum sees, not really. He pushes up, once his emotions are in check, and rocks on his elbows, letting his face fall into place in the crook of Callum’s neck, as if it belongs there.

Callum’s hands skim up Ben’s back, wide and warm and grounding. He holds onto Ben’s shoulder blades for just a moment, and then wraps his arms around Ben completely, cradling him into a hug. They remain there for a moment, frozen in time, just their breaths and the beat of their hearts creating the only noise in the room. Ben breathes out slowly, the cooling air of his breath instantly hitting the skin of Callum’s neck. He lets out a soft chuckle when he feels Callum shiver, and then runs the edge of his teeth over the already sensitive skin, before pulling back.

“Do you have goosebumps?” Ben asks, and there’s a laugh that threatens to escape past his lips.

Callum turns his face so he’s looking directly at Ben, and he’s suddenly hit with an overwhelming sense of love for the man. “You can’t call me gorgeous and expect me not to feel things about it!” He teases, and pulls Ben back into the warm embrace, never wanting to let go of him.

two

There’s a coldness in the air, the second time it happens. Winter is fast approaching, and it shows in the early morning with the earth holding onto the night for as long as possible, street lights still lighting up the pavement below as people kick start their day. There’s a bitter coldness, and Ben loves it. He loves nothing more than wearing comfortable clothes, layers upon layers, and more than anything - he loves his boyfriend warming him up.

They’re both in the bathroom, tired eyes and coffee breath. It’s only early, and Callum’s brushing his teeth, getting ready for the day of work. Callum looks in the mirror, toothpaste poking out of the corners of his mouth, and he smiles, his eyes lighting up when he sees Ben watching him. His hair is flat against his head, being pushed forward with the edge of the hood on his dressing gown. There’s stubble against his cheeks, coarse and prominent, in comparison to how he usually looks.

Ben walks forward, and the front of his body soon gently collides with the back of Callum’s. His arms snake around Callum’s body, holding them both in place. He instantly feels the warmth that emulates from Callum, and sinks into his body, craving it. There’s a grin on his face, and then he stands on the tips of his toes, growing a few inches in length. He loves Callum’s height, he loves how there’s that perfect difference between them, but there’s just something about being able to rest his chin on Callum’s shoulder. So that’s what he does. He’s standing there, cuddling into his boyfriend, chin on his shoulder, watching as he does something as menial as brushing his teeth.

“You okay there?” Callum asks, twisting his free arm around to rest it on Ben’s waist. The position is awkward, and even though he doesn’t care about the pain that starts to appear, he soon moves position so that his fingers are interweaving with Ben’s, resting at his stomach.

Ben hums absentmindedly, and if it was acceptable to spend the day cuddling with Callum instead of working, he would. “Cold.” He mutters.

“I know.” Callum says, before he swirls cold tap water around his mouth, spitting it out in the sink below him. “Your hand is frozen.”

“Getting better though.” Ben admits softly. “You’re warming it up.”

Callum chuckles, and shakes his head. “Is that all I am to you?” He jokes. “Your human radiator?”

“If the shoe fits.” Ben teases, and lets Callum turn his body, pulling Ben into a warm and loving embrace, holding him there.

Ben looks up, and puts his hand to Callum’s jawline, letting his fingers run over the rough stubble that’s grown overnight, admiring it and Callum. The elder man kisses at Ben’s hand, twisting his face to press his lips there. Ben smiles, unrelenting, he can’t believe he’s got this lucky. “Keep it.” Ben says. “Just for today.”

“Yeah?” Callum asks, feeling around at his stubble. “You like it?”

Ben gulps, and nods his head. “I love it.” Ben admits. “You look so gorgeous.”

Callum smiles softly, his eyes turning all doe-like. He swoops down for a kiss, and Ben instantly pats himself on the back because the feeling of Callum’s stubble scratching against his skin is glorious.

three

The next time it happens, they’re both already giddy.

From the beginning of their relationship, it was a mutual decision that at least once a month they would have a date night. It didn’t need to be a big event, not a meal in a restaurant that carries Michelin stars, but just something that they can put in the calendar, just to take time to themselves. It’s their monthly date night, when it next happens.

Callum’s already wearing his smart clothes, and is just waiting on Ben to finish getting ready. It’s already dark outside, stars flickering in the sky. Callum’s nervous, butterflies already circling around his stomach, and he shoves his hands in his trousers pockets, which only adds to the nerves when his knuckles of his right hand brushes with the velvet box that he’s hiding away.

It’s not often they dress up for their date nights, but then again, it’s not every day that Callum proposes - not that Ben knows that’s happening yet, he just knows he has to stray away from his usual choice combination of skinny jeans and nice shirt.

Ben steps out from the bedroom with a beaming grin on his face. He’s fiddling with the sleeves of his white shirt, and Callum notes that he’s finally almost done.

“Can you help me with these cufflinks?” Ben asks, holding his arms out to Callum, one by one.

Callum smiles, and tries to steady his shaking hands enough to help Ben. There’s something so domestic about this, helping to fix his boyfriends cufflinks on what hopefully will turn out to be a momentous occasion.

“Why are you shaking?” Ben asks, once Callum is done. He pulls at his sleeves and then turns away, walking back into their bedroom where he finds his blazer and shrugs it on over his shoulders.

Callum shrugs. “Must be the coffee.” He lies. “You know I’m not used to it.”

Ben hums, and pats at his trouser pockets, checking to see if he has everything he needs. When he’s satisfied enough, he walks forward to Callum, and he instinctively smiles when he smells the familiar scent that’s been sprayed onto his body. “Is that mine?” He asks, though he knows the answer, because he’s wearing it too.

“It might be.” Callum shrugs, and there’s a grin that’s starting to make its way onto his face, unrelenting and giddy, his head spinning at just how happy he is.

Ben leans up onto the tips of his toes and he knows the action will cause creasing in his smart shoes, but he doesn’t have it in him to care at this moment in time. All that’s running through his head is Callum, Callum and more Callum. He wraps his forearms around Callum’s shoulders, and Callum instinctively wraps Ben into a hug and it’s almost a comfort thing, because it calms him instantly. Ben presses a gentle kiss to Callum’s lip, and it’s over so quick that Callum can hardly believe it happened in the first place. “You look amazing.” Ben admits, biting at his lip. “So gorgeous.”

Callum melts, and leans down into another kiss, which turns out to be their last as boyfriends, because he proposes later that night.

plus one

This time is probably the most perfect occasion to say the word, on a day that changes the course of their lives forever.

The Vic is busy and full of life. There’s fairy lights dangling down from the ceiling to the floor behind them, and Callum’s hand is resting firmly on Ben’s thigh, their fingers linking together. Ben runs his thumb over Callum’s ring that now adorns his finger, and Callum looks down with a gleeful smile on his face. There’s music playing in the background, turned down to a soft level as the speeches carry on. They’ve been happening for an age, with more and more people deciding it’s their turn at an emotional passage fueled by alcohol and sleep deprivation from pulling the day off swimmingly well. Another person finishes their speech - finally - and they’re met with a round of applause and quick chatter. Ben quickly turns to look at Callum, and he lets out a soft chuckle, squeezing Callum’s hand before releasing it, leaving it cold and craving the warmth of Ben again.

He stands up before anyone else has the chance to do so, and instantly there’s wolf whistle and applause. He runs his hand down his chest, soothing his suit down, because he knows the wedding photographer is about, and Callum would never forgive him if he’s got creases in his suit on their wedding photos. “I don’t want to do a long speech, because I think we’ve all had enough of my tears at the actual ceremony.” He starts, and there’s a cacophony of chuckles from the people in front of him. “Firstly I just want to thank everyone for coming out and celebrating our wedding - if you were there when it happened, or even if you just wanted to come for a few pints in a free bar. It really does mean a lot to myself and Callum, to have the support of so many people. I also just want to thank everyone who’s been a huge help in getting all of this organised. It’s been the most perfect day in everything that’s happened. Even if my daughter gave us a bit of a scare by hiding the rings. But mostly, I want to thank this man right here.” He turns his body, and looks at Callum, who’s already staring up at Ben with anticipation and love in his eyes and butterflies erupt in Ben’s stomach. “Callum, you have completely changed my life. I didn’t think I could love again, but then I saw you and I just knew. I knew that I needed to have you and neither of us have looked back since. I love you more than words can ever really say, and I just want to thank you for making me so happy every single day.”

Ben leans down, and pulls Callum into a kiss, not caring that everyone is looking at them. He’s happy. They’re both so happy. Ben pulls away slightly, but not for long because he leans in for another peck, before he stands back up straight, a blush clearly visible on his skin for all to see, and he holds up his half empty pint glass. “If you’d all join me in a toast to my gorgeous husband, Callum Mitchell.”

Everyone raises their glasses and repeats Ben’s words as he sits down, leaning his entire body into an embrace, his heart racing and entirely full of love.

#ballum #ben x callum #ben mitchell x callum highway #ben mitchell #callum highway #myfic

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dokeblr · 4 years

Text

He Loves Me, He Loves Me More

Character/Pairing: Mirio x Chubby Reader

Summary/Prompt: Readers quirk is Flora, making them bloom petals, inconvenient for when they gets flustered. They struggle to control it, making them self conscious.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Brilliant shades of yellow sprinkled across your skin, some being tugged off by the wind and circling you, the sunlight casting colourful shadows in all shades like rays of sun against your skin.

You looked ethereal, so captivating to everyone around you, drawing the eyes of your fellow classmates from their own training as gasps of delight filled the air from a few of the students.

Those snapped you out of your peaceful state, and soon red petals of Columbine Rose sprung from your skin and settled around you in a flurry, their soft and slow floats an opposite to your swift and jaunting movements as your arms came to hug your curves and tug down your sleeves, only to cause more petals to gush out around you.

Embarrassment was a reaction your classmates were used to bringing out of you, even if unintentionally. Your quirk, while mesmerizing, was hard to keep under control. It required having a constant leash on your emotions and feelings, which was something you found yourself struggling to do.

As you fought to control yourself, slicked tuffs of yellow came marching towards you from across the room.

Mirio Togata.

As one of the big three, his presence was hard to ignore, but he seemed to make it his own personal mission to get in your face and steal your attention as much as possible. Whether it was waving at you in the corridors, trying to chat with you at lunch or checking up on you during training when you were flustered.

If only he knew how much worse he was making things.

Before he could come too close, you quickly excused yourself to your teacher and bounced off quickly to the toilets, a flurry of rose petals trailing behind you.

It was a wonder as to how Mirio was oblivious to your feelings, never managing to get near you before you ran off in bursts of petals, spraying out like a prism of colour, with your face as red as a rose.

Most girls in UA had a crush on the future pro hero, but it seemed like you were the only one who couldn’t stand to be near him.

The next time you saw him was at the end of class before lunch, everyone was milling about their desk as they gathered their things, groups of friends floating here and there to talk about the lesson and their plans for the day.

Your guard was down while you were packing your notebooks into your bag, not paying attention to your surroundings.

“Hey there, Y/N!” The loud and cheerful voice alone was enough to startle several plumes of petals out of you, but the angular, grinning face that was now taking centre place on your notes was what got you jumping out of your seat with a yell.

“Aha! Sorry about that, didn’t mean to startle you there.” Mirio rubbed his neck sheepishly, standing up from your desk. “I just wanted to check you were ok after gym this morning, you seemed pretty worked up.”

This was not a situation you were prepared for. In front of you stood Mirio, in all his tall, buff glory with his full attention directed towards you, someone with barely any grasp on your quirk compared to his.

‘Have I even spoken to him before?’ You wondered, raking through your head for anything as more and more petals poured out of your pores and landing all around your desk in a heap.

You had almost worked up the courage to respond when your teacher started barking from the front of the room.

“Y/N! Clean up your mess before lunch is over, don’t leave the petals lying about.”

Despite your anxiety over being scolded for your petals, the order only added to the pressure and more mess was added to the heap.

The rest of the class scurried around you out of the classroom until you realised, much to your horror, that you were the only person left in the room with Mirio.

“I, um, I have to go get a brush.” He was standing right in front of you, not leaving much room to bypass his bulk.

“Oh sure, sorry.”

You made a beeline out of the classroom and towards the cleaning cupboard for a broom, holding your breath and focusing on trying to hold back the veil of petals trailing after you after brushing past the handsome blonde.

It was only as a muscular arm, littered with scars reached past you to grab the broom did you realise Mirio had followed behind you, giving you a closed eyed smile as you glanced back at him before walking back to the classroom, arms swinging by his sides and broom in hand.

Quickly glimpsing around the stuffy closet showed that he had taken the only broom, leaving you to scurry after him with the pan.

As you got to the class, Mirio had already swept most of the petals into a pile, humming to his own little tune.

“Mirio, let me, it’s my mess.” Your voice was soft with nerves, trying to tiptoe closer to him.

“But why?” His face was a picture of genuine confusion as you approached, eyebrows arched. “I was the one that freaked you out right? Making you create all these petals? So it’s my fault, the least I can do is sweep them up.”

Before you could register what had happened, large calloused fingers were brushing against yours as Mirio took the pan from you and began taking out the petals, now a neat pile, in all sorts of colours.

Mirio stalled suddenly as he lifted the petals, picking one out delicately between his fingers and rubbing the dainty petal with his thumb

“This is motherwort, right?” A cheeky grin slide across his features. “Are you secretly in love with someone, Y/N?”

“W-What?!” He couldn’t know. Next to no-one knew flower language, no one cared for meaning anymore, it had to have been a lucky guess.

“Oh, gardenia! Sweet love and purity!” Mirio was digging through the pile now, gushing over all the different petals gasping with joy at each one. “You’re head over heels, huh? Are they in our class?”

Ice ran through your veins as your brain tried to process what was happening in the simplest terms possible. ‘He knew flower language’, bad, he’d know your every feeling now as soon as you got flustered. ‘He passed it off as a crush on someone else’, better, you wouldn’t have to face humiliating rejection yet.

“Oh hey, new petals!” In an instant Mirio was crouched right next to your thighs as new petals bloomed. His nose raised into the air with an audible sniff as he was picking up a new petal. “Is that… rose water?”

Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you rushed backwards, stuttering out apologies.

“I’m sorry, it’s my quirk! I-It happens when I’m sweaty.” The situation couldn’t get worse and you were facing the worst sort of humiliation. Avoiding him had been for nothing, you’d managed to embarrass yourself in front of him anyway.

“That’s so cool! Wish I could do that, would solve a lot of problems.” The last part was muffled as Mirio rubbed his nose, jumping up from his crouch and holding the newly found petal to the light. Your heart dropped.

“A red Chrysanthemum petal. Hmm.” As his eyes squinted at it your heart dropped. When they widened, it nearly broke.

“You love me?!”

There was no that you could say out loud, not without having to face heartbreak. Emotions weren’t something you were good at hiding, though.

It wasn’t petals that fell now, tears streaked your face instead, falling onto the red petals like dewdrops as you dropped your head to the floor.

“I…” You could barely croak out a sentence while your throat tightened, lump forming.

A large hand reached for yours, instantly shooting sparks through your skin. Your hand was raised up, calloused fingers nudging your palm open as an ethereal, white petal danced down and tickled your hand as it landed.

“Jonquil.” Mirio’s voice was tender, with a matching smile as he looked down at you affectionately. “Affection returned.”

His blue eyes flickered down as he took your other hand and closed your palms together, wrapping his own hands around yours and giving them a gentle squeeze.

“But, I-, why me?“ Breath wasn’t reaching your lungs and giving you the fuel to speak. “I’m not like Nejire or-, or any of the other girls in class!” Your hands broke out of his hold to gesture aggressively at your body.

Mirio was never the type to play a cruel prank on someone, or go out of his way to humiliate them, but you couldn’t accept this.

“I know you’re not.” The words stung, crushing you, but the look on Mirio’s face as you looked at the body you were waving at, it was raw and loving.

He swallowed suddenly, looking you in eye with a fierce determination. The hands that were holding yours carefully came up to frame your face, thumb stroking your chin like you were the most precious thing he’d held.

The approach was slow, but his lips were on yours before you could react. His kiss was supple, capturing your bottom lip with his, basking in everything you were.

There wasn’t a suddenness to the warmth he brought, but as his mouth left yours the chill was abrupt.

“That’s exactly why I love you.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ »»————-　♡　————-««

Notes: The quirk and entire scenario is so cute, tysm for sending this in <3 The petals I used were specific to their meaning (eg, peony = bashful). Also the title was meant to be a play on “He loves me, he loves me not”, in case anyone didn’t understand.

#mirio x reader #mirio togata #mirio togata x reader #my hero academia #mha #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha x reader

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augiepets · 3 years

Text

A comprehensive guide and some ideas to having a pet turtle at home

Taking care of a pet turtleis not as simple as it may appear. The decision to keep a pet turtle should be carefully considered. If your child has been begging for a pet, a turtle may seem like an obvious choice. It may appear to be more exotic than a goldfish and require less maintenance than a cat or dog. Turtles take particular attention and cleaning, and they don't get along well with children—turtles may bite and dislike being handled—but they're still fascinating pets to watch. Pet turtles need a lot of care and upkeep, and their lengthy lifetime makes them more of a long-term investment than a pet.

Image Alt Text: pet turtle

Image Title: pet turtle

Description: The decision to keep a pet turtle should be carefully considered.

This is your guide to everything you need to know about How to take care of a pet turtle

1. Choosing the right breed of your pet turtle: Turtles come in a range of shapes and sizes, and some make better pets than others. Some may grow to be quite huge, while others are recognised for being more social and less aggressive, and they will all have distinct space, lighting, and dietary requirements.

Most people are not prepared to deal with the fact that turtles live for many years. Getting a pet turtle is a serious commitment. It's not a creature that will live for a few years. Not only do these creatures live a long time, but they also demand enormous cage.

Turtle house pets of all sizes, whether inside or out, require plenty of space. It's critical that they have a suitable enclosure; they must be allowed to exercise in order to be healthy.

There are many different species of turtles, but box turtles and red-eared slider turtles are the most often brought home as pets (and the simplest to care for).

Dark skin with yellowish patterns and towering, dome-shaped shells give box turtles their name. Adults generally reach a length of around 6 inches. One of the most popular aquatic turtle species is the Red Eared Slider.

They're more social and friendly than some of their cousins, they're very active, and they're readily accessible. These are the ones you'll see swimming about in aquariums at your local pet store. While young pet turtles are typically 4 inches or less, adults may grow up to 11 inches in length, which means you may need to expand your tank in the near future.

These pet turtles are usually kept indoors, but with the appropriate shelter, cleanliness, and warmer temperatures, they may thrive in an outdoor pond as well. It may become simpler to offer them with the space they require outside as they get older.

Image Alt Text: buy turtles online

Image Title: buy turtles online

Description: buy turtles online, water turtle breeders near me live turtles for sale and baby freshwater turtle store.

Red Eared Sliders may grow to be quite large, so their tank should be large and have plenty of places for them to bask. UV lighting and a good water filtration system are required.

2. Housing your turtle: When it comes to housing, bigger is better. Because many aquatic pet turtles are strong swimmers, use the biggest feasible enclosure.

Aquaria made of glass are a popular choice. For smaller species measuring 4 to 6 inches, a 30-gallon tank is the absolute minimum size.

A 55-gallon tank is suitable for turtles measuring 6 to 8 inches in length. Tanks in the 75- to 125-gallon range are best for turtles measuring more over 8 inches.

If you're starting with a younger, smaller pet turtle, a smaller tank is OK as long as the enclosure grows with your turtle. Plastic tubs, which can be found at most home or hardware stores, are another option for turtle housing.

Some tubs featuring both a water and a land section are particularly intended for pet turtles. An indoor or outdoor pond is another wonderful choice if you have the space. Clean water is one of the keys to successful turtle keeping.

A decent filtering system will help a great deal with this. An internal aquarium filter or a canister filter are both good alternatives for pet turtleaquariums. Whatever option you pick, make sure to clean the filter on a regular basis.

Pet turtles make a lot of messes. Keep tank ornaments to a bare minimum. Any attempt at aqua scalping is usually rejected by most turtles. Pet turtles are classified into two groups depending on their habitat: terrestrial and aquatic.

Box turtles are terrestrial turtles that live on land. They may be found in wet locations all over the world, such as the mossy sections of woods. An outdoor cage with high walls and a roof to fend off predators is a great home for a box pet turtle if you live in a temperate climate (with an average temperature of 75-85 degrees).

Image Alt Text: What do pet turtles eat?

Image Title: What do pet turtles eat?

Description: pet turtles can eat vegetables, and fruits should all be included in an adult pet turtle's diet.

Set up an indoor space for your box pet turtles if you live in a colder or warmer region. Box turtles enjoy digging, so make sure they have enough of dirt, potting soil, shredded newspaper, or carpet scraps to keep them occupied.

Box pet turtles require a certain amount of moisture to thrive, so make sure your turtle's cage has lots of decaying dry leaves and damp soil, as well as a comfortable shoe box or flower pot where the turtle may hide or nap. Your outdoor turtle should never be kept in a glass aquarium.

The glass will heat up like a greenhouse, and your poor creature will be cooked! Aquatic pet turtles, such as the red-eared slider, prefer marshy, muddy regions with dense vegetation, such as lakes and ponds, as their native environment.

They require a habitat that includes both clean water for swimming and dry terrain for resting, hiding, and sunbathing. A tank with a capacity of at least 40 gallons should provide enough space for your pet turtle to walk about in.

Fill the bottom of your pet turtle’s tank with tiny rocks so it may dig around and have fun. You may also create a private island for your turtle by placing a huge rock or floating log in the centre of the water.

3. Feeding your turtles: What do pet turtles eat? Most pet turtles are omnivores, which means they consume both meat and vegetation. Animal products, vegetables, and fruits should all be included in an adult pet turtle's diet.

Younger pet turtles , between the ages of 7 and 10, require a greater proportion of animal-based meals. The amount of animal and vegetable food your pet turtlerequires is determined on its species.

Sources of animal food Processed pet meals like drained sardines, turtle pellets, and trout chow are examples of animal-based food sources for turtles. Cooked chicken, beef, and turkey are also good options.

Moths, crickets, shrimp, krill, feeder fish, and worms are examples of live prey. To assure quality and safety, purchase insects from a pet store or an undeveloped area, or cultivate them yourself.

Sources of plant food Leafy greens like collards, dandelions, and mustard greens should be the main sources of plant-based diet for your pet turtle. Some of these veggies, such as chives, parsley, and spinach, have high amounts of oxalates, which should be avoided.

Apples, cantaloupe, bananas, berries, and mangoes are examples of fruits. Non-toxic aquatic plants such as water hyacinth, water lettuce, and duckweed can also be fed to them.

Feed an adult pet turtle once or twice a day, and a juvenile turtle one to two times a day, depending on the species. The amount of food your pet turtle should eat is determined on its species.

As a general guideline, only let your pet turtle consume as much as they can in approximately 20 minutes, especially with pellets and other non-living items, and then remove any leftovers.

When it comes to eating habits, sea turtles and land turtles have distinct tastes. Because aquatic turtles can only eat when submerged, you'll need to put food in their water tank. Place your land turtle's food on a flat, firm surface, such as a rock or grass, if you have one. Many turtle owners like to cut a variety of veggies to feed their pets so that they don't simply consume one type and miss out on other, more nutritious plants.

Pet turtleshave different nutritional needs depending on their species. Research the nutritional requirements of your pet turtles species, and if you have any questions or concerns, contact your veterinarian.

Pet turtles, like humans and many other creatures, may become fat. Overfeeding your turtle can cause them to gain weight, making it difficult for them to withdraw their arms and legs inside their shell.

To minimise overfeeding, make sure your turtle has plenty of room to roam about. Tanks for turtles up to 6 inches long should be 30 gallons at a minimum, and up to 125 gallons for pet turtles over 8 inches long.

Image Alt text: pet turtles

Image Title: pet turtles

Description: Pet turtles need a lot of care and upkeep, and their lengthy lifetime makes them more of a long-term investment than a pet.

Live prey allows your turtle to hunt and get some exercise. If pet turtles food isn't balanced, they might get vitamin A deficiency. A reduction in appetite, swelling of the eyelids and ears, renal failure, and lung infections are all symptoms of too little vitamin A in turtles.

Carrots, squash, bell peppers, and other red, orange, and yellow vegetables are high in vitamin A, which pet turtles require. Low-nutrient foods, such as lettuce and celery, should be avoided.

A veterinarian may prescribe Vitamin A therapies, either injected or given orally, to address Vitamin A deficiency. Prevention is the best medicine when it comes to growing a healthy turtle.

A healthy, well-balanced diet is essential for success. Provide as many varied meals as possible, with a high-quality pet turtles food serving as the mainstay of the diet. Keep in mind that a pet turtles nutritional requirements fluctuate as it grows older.

Although many are predominantly carnivorous as hatchlings, as they grow older, they ingest more plant stuff. Plant matter may even make up the bulk of the diet of some adult pet turtles.

It might be a symptom of sickness if your pet turtles aren’t eating enough, but other variables could be at play. Make sure the temperature of your tank, as well as the water temperature, lighting, and size, are appropriate for your turtle's species.

Pet turtleslack of appetite might be caused by hibernation or stress. Consult a veterinarian about any symptoms or behaviours, and schedule an appointment if problems persist after you make adjustments.

4. Controlling the light and temperature: Unfortunately, this is the most frequently overlooked aspect of a pet turtleenvironment. When purchasing a pet reptile from a pet store, many individuals choose not to purchase the most expensive element of the set up.

These same folks frequently rely on the pet store assistant to assist them in purchasing items for their new pet turtle, and they are frequently informed that UVB illumination is not required.

Your pet turtle will develop metabolic bone disease, be unable to synthesis Vitamin D (causing calcium metabolism issues), be sluggish, and have a lack of appetite if UVB illumination is not provided.

For these reasons, UVB lighting is critical. In most enclosures, supplementary heat is required since many turtles demand basking temperatures in the 80s and 90s.

Heat lamps are favoured over under-tank heaters because they allow you to adjust the temperature of the surrounding air. Under tank heaters sometimes have few or no controls for controlling the heat, and they primarily warm the bottom of the enclosure while failing to increase the surrounding air temperature, making it difficult to achieve a correct thermal gradient.

Heat lamps for tortoises and turtles come in a range of wattages, but it's vital to figure out what bulb wattage the cage requires to maintain the proper temperature. Larger enclosures often require greater wattage bulbs, whereas smaller enclosures require less wattage to maintain proper temperatures.

Aside from the mercury vapour bulb, which emits UVB rays, there are ceramic heat emitters and ordinary reptile heat lamp bulbs in various wattages. Ceramic heat emitters produce just heat and do not produce light, and they screw into a clamp light.

These are wonderful since they last a long time, are less brittle than light bulbs, and may be used at any time of day or night because they emit no light. In addition to heat, regular reptile heat bulbs can emit white, red, or blue/purple light.

Some concluding pointers!

1. Turtles require a lot of energy and time into proper maintenance. Pet turtles need a lot of care and upkeep, and their lengthy lifetime makes them more of a long-term investment than a pet.

2. Pet turtles are usually kept indoors, but with the appropriate shelter, cleanliness, and warmer temperatures, they may thrive in an outdoor pond as well.

3. Pet turtles make a lot of messes. Keep tank ornaments to a bare minimum.

4. Turtles, like humans and many other creatures, may become fat.

5. UVB lighting is critical. In most enclosures, supplementary heat is required since many turtles demand basking temperatures in the 80s and 90s.

How can Augie help you?

We have an ideal mix of Products and Services that can aid you in your efforts to take care of your pets. We work with different pets viz. Dogs / Cats / Other pets

You can reach out to us and we can aid you. Looking forward to working with you

Have a great Day Ahead!!

#pets #pet care #cats #dogs #pet turtles #pet lovers

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smndragon · 3 years

Note

hello! I hope that you are having a great day so far ✨ can I please ask for a reading? Virgo sun (8th house), Gemini moon (5th house) and Capricorn Rising.

Thank you so much for this opportunity 😊

Hi! I'm sorry this took forever to get back to you! I sincerely apologize, please enjoy your reading! Let's go!💕

Hm Virgo sun, Gemini moon, Capricorn ascendant. I'm seeing a lot of green at first, as if large lights were replaced the skies. A girl possibly also a male with her. Running from something. We're in the woods, transferred into a large clearing. Trees surround us. I don't know if I'm scared or not. I feel like the predator turned prey. I am naked, and showing. All emotions cross our faces. The boy has brown hair, shaggy and matted with time. The girl's hair is blonde, brown, or black. Her eyelashes tell me stories. Her eyes change colors, as if she had too many faces and thoughts to show one. All panicked and trapped. This is the Gemini moon. You feel anxious on something possibly. Connected to something greater than yourself or lost in it. Your Geminis are in danger of something. I can't leave them here, but we've got nowhere to go. 'I'll hold them' I say I'm my thoughts, reaching for them. Holding them for only a second before they turn to dust or fall through the ground. "Care for me." "Love me" "I miss you" "come back" "I'm sorry" I hear them say things crying mad bawling falling through. This may have been a fear really. A fear of something from your past. I see a man, he cares for these children. Then leaves or does something to them. Holds their hand as if he's their father. He has facial hair I see. Brown or dark hair. I watch them walk younger with him. Smiling, there's nothing wrong the trees say. Nothing going on. They lie to me I feel. Aura color is a green, the green of gras and emeralds. Possible placements are the shoulders, head, knees, stomach, or hands and hips. They walk everywhere In you. Running around your mind creating thoughts and walking to your stomach and knees to rest for the day.

The Capricorn ascendant is reaching farther than the Virgo sun. The Virgo feels left out, a solemn look on their faces. I don't know who to go with. I'll go with both for now. I can't leave either of them. It feels like they fight for the affection of others. Clinging to what they can out of fear things will leave them. You may at times feel the same. Scared everything you have will be gone within a blink. We walk across so many fields and forests my feet have grown comforted by the muddy and grassy grounds. Your Gemini have become roots in your body, causing growth and pain. The Capricorn ascendant looks at me as if I'm their mother. The Virgo sun the same. Holding my hands and my hips. The Capricorn and Virgo are heard to differ. (Please I literally go back to put sun and ascendant cause I feel it's disrespectful and they just fucking say I'm being too formal 😭 even now they keep talking so cute and like omg) I'm ngl I wanna have your signs as kids their so adorable 💕💕💕💕💕💕 but it's also cause I want kids of my own someday. My placements wish to protect yours. As if they're my own. (I got distracted reading an article on Beethoven's hands.) One of the boys has brown and shaggy hair, marks on his face of scars and dirt. Tanned or mixed African American and white blood. His smile is warm, it is youth. Possibly the Virgo, Virgos gift their children beauty of age, growing like the finest wine in mind if not body. A sleeveless shirt or s tank top. Shorts and no shoes. He's lived here so long he feels at home. As if the trees here were planted by him. I see he's been alone, a boy planting seeds all by himself. Until your Capricorn came. Helping him with the things he's been doing. Giving your Virgo companionship, the kind s young boy on his own needs. (This actually reminds me of luca lol that movie was 1000/10 recommend) the Capricorn has dark almost black brown hair. I go to touch it and he nuzzles like a pup. Poor things, that's what I want to think. But these boys survived here so long alone it's amazing. They've created the strength of the bark in the trees to help you, to cover old wounds. The Capricorn ascendant has wide brown or blue eyes, partial specks of green. Smile is wide and giddy. Checks flushed and painted pink naturally. Skin is a white shade. Hands arent soft of calloused. Growing so many great things you'd think they would be. We arrive at a great tree. I wish the sibling Geminis could see. Large as all timbers out together. There's so much to unpack here it's crazy. Their bond is too strong. Possible placements could be the thighs, chest, or neck. Aura is green and blue.

Characteristics: dark brown or black hair from the many signs traits. Possible marks or beauty marks on the face or legs from Capricorn. Birthmark somewhere. Eyes are somewhat wide maybe with brown or a blue green mix. Maybe a mole on the thighs or torso. Blotches possibly of darker color on the inner thighs or something. Possible piercings on the ear around 1-3 maybe even 4. Goth possible look or grunge. If color you'd wear pants half and half maybe. Flushed cheeks. Small teeth or a big smile. Button nose I believe they call it or a nose either big or small. Hands are soft and small or medium. Maybe even big I'm too many mixed emotions. Average to short height around 5'0-5'5 maybe. You Amy like wearing boots. Baggier clothes or sleeveless shirts. Hands in pockets out in public.

Future relationship/soulmates: I see a fairly small person or tall one. Hair looks messy and all over. Possibly dyed black or something. Dimples or a really funny smile. Blushes a lot. Hand holding for both of your reassurances either a lot or sometimes. Similar taste in clothes. Will probably go and buy clothes for you anyday. Bakes a bit from a family member. Flirts a lot. Will fight anyone at times. Kisses on the nose neck. Facial ones too. Thin or medium lips, a pretty pink. Laying down in bed watching weird shows and movies. Fighting over who gets the popcorn refill next. When you're together there's a white aura. Pure affection and love. I saw them opening ice cream talking to you and smiling at you form behind. Likes to hold you big spoon when sleeping but will take anything. Curses but will way "no cursing" to others. Parent material but will teach them how to do weird thing.s images of them showing them how to use a hot glue gun ofc supervised. Pet names. May meet at the market, looking in a frozen isle. On a trip to some museum. Or something involving the arts.

Other possible zodiac influence around you: Virgo moon or sun, maybe even ascendant. Capricorn moon or ascendant. Gemini sun. Cancer mars, Venus, Neptune. Aries mars, Neptune. Sagittarius somewhere maybe. Pisces sun, Venus, moon. Libra Venus.

Future/health: I see possible back problems, clumsy at times, feet aching. Knee troubles. Breathing problems somewhere. Mental health issues form truama or something. Things to look out for are trees, driving, public crowded areas involving, theatre, or a big place of some kind.

Houses: having the Virgo sun in the 8th house could cause mommy kinks or breeding kinks. The Virgo is fertile and mothering. Creating change and passionate love to all who desire it and deserve it. Possible problems or struggles with having children in your life because of your own children inside you. Your other signs. People want to bask in your energy, though it feels like walking into a mazed house. Having the Gemini moon in the 5th house could cause a feeling of being scared of being a let down to your children. Or being not enough. Possible feelings of unsureness around adults and family at times

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elydraws · 4 years

Text

YOUR HERO [dekuxreader]

pairing: midoriya izuku [deku] x reader

genre: fluff, romantic, lemon (maybe?), action

word count: 3.5+ words

part 1/? <previous next >

warnings: none for this chapter

author’s note: As usual, this is a translation of my original work. So excuse me in advance if there will be any mistakes, I will try in every way not to make them.

with this work I wanted to create a sort of "mini-series". The chapters will therefore be real "episodes" concerning the establishment of the love story between the reader and deku.

The story is set after the manga, so all the characters are roughly 23-24 years old.

This is because in future chapters things will get spicy and then because WE TALK ABOUT DEKU ADULT. COME ON. REALLY. LOOK AT HIM. --> As a reference I am taking my own design, but feel free to imagine Deku as you prefer!

I hope you appreciate the idea and the work behind it.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry!" you shouted, getting out of the train as soon as the doors opened. "Sorry! My fault!" you kept repeating, trying to avoid the crowd of people who had gathered in front of the platform.

Despite your best efforts, your shoulder hit several unfortunate passers-by too slow to move several times.

"Miss! Be careful! "

"Forgive me!" you hastened to say, joining the palms in front of the face without stopping.

Many bowed their heads, watching you zigzag from side to side of the sidewalk, looking desperately at the fine watch tied around your wrist.

I haven't heard the alarm clock, and now Asu-chan will kill me.

A sigh left your lips.

It was your first day free from ... well ... what seemed like life and you promised your best friend to see you, after postponing the latest releases because too tired to even think about going out.

And of course, that morning, still sleepy, you had turned off the alarm clock completely forgetting about the commitment.

The bed was so... comfortable.

You hit another distinguished man, making him drop the briefcase and scatter the contents on the asphalt. He began to rail in a loud voice, waving a punch in the air, entirely deaf for the excuses you were shouting, walking away.

Yes... much more comfortable.

But there was little point in basking in the warm and welcoming memory of the duvet against the skin. A promise was a promise.

The heel hit harder on the floor when you increased the pace, climbing the steps of the station two by two to gain time.

Asuka had given you an appointment at the entrance of FootTown, one of the most famous towers in the city, so you could have lunch together and take a tour of the Observatory in the early afternoon, and end the day for shopping in the nearby shopping district.

It was a life that you didn't spend time for yourself between work and housework. When you left college, you realized how many hours there were actually in one day.

"Ohiiiii!" you looked up, and finally, above the heads of the crowd, a hand was waving in the air calling for you. "I'm here !!!" a girl of about the same age with short teal-green hair shouted louder in your direction.

She stood on her toes, gesturing for you to come closer.

"Asu-chan !!! Forgive me," you cried desperately, overcoming the last group of people between you and your friend.

Arriving in front of Asuka, the air had now left your lungs. You leaned over yourself, keeping your hand pressed against the spleen that had started to ache.

By now, you were entirely out of practice, and having abandoned the gym membership in some drawer, perhaps it had been a wrong decision. With your head lowered, you caught the slight impatient beat of Asuka's pearly dancers on the floor.

"The appointment was half an hour ago!" your friend's voice echoed over you, hitting you where it hurt most.

Involuntarily, the head recessed more deeply between the shoulders. She had every reason in the world to be angry.

You nodded, tightening your eyelids, your head still bent as you caught your breath. You didn't know if you would find the courage to face her.

"I overslept," the cheeks caught fire, saying those words, "Excuse me..." only then, you dared to look up at the girl's face.

Asuka's pout softened. The scales around her eyes and cheeks shone with a thousand pink hues, making her resemble a mermaid when the sun reflected against them.

She did not notice your astonished gaze when her hands ran around your arm, pulling you to your feet by force.

"Aw! Asu-chan!" you grumbled, wiggling weakly when your feet almost tripped over each other.

She tightened her grip on your elbow, dragging you to the entrance "Up! Here we go! We have a lot of time to recover."

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

"So I told her what she could do with her nasty opinion!" Asuka's voice rang through the entire Observatory, causing some of the patrons to turn around.

But you were too busy laughing, trying to hide behind the back of your hand, to worry about who you were grabbing attention. You had missed all this. Laughing and joking without worrying about others.

It was like being a teenager again when the world was still full of promises.

Despite different commitments, you and Asuka had remained close friends from high school. Then there your path was divided, she had chased her dream of breaking through as a TV presenter while you, well, searching for your place in the world.

In a society of people with meta-abilities and superpowers, the real challenge was not to have any Quirks.

By now, the world population without power was below the 5% threshold and decreasing each new generation. Within twenty or thirty years, the birth of a child without a Quirk would have been a unique event.

They had become real whiteflies. It was as if the world wanted to remind you of how unique and singular this condition was.

The life of a Quirk-free was not easy. From an early age, in most cases, it was bullied as if having to struggle with the awareness of being different was not a considerable challenge at just four or five years.

Furthermore, everything in today's society was built to fit Quirk owners.

A simple example was shoes.

Anyone with powers had a mutation of the last toe, where for its complete superficiality, the joint had disappeared. In people without skills, this small feature was still present, made it extremely uncomfortable for them to wear shoes for "normal" people and with Quirk.

The last time you had to buy shoes, you passed a month before finding a pair that didn't make you tear in pain with every step.

And they were just shoes.

Having to compete with other students at school - all genetically better than you for one reason or another -, or finding a job in which being without Quirk was not considered a disabling handicap was a real feat.

In practice, you had to conquer your place in the world laboriously.

Although fortunately, there were people like Asuka or Ms. Mizuki, your employer, who cared little if you had a Quirk or not.

You drank from the straw a sip of the Bubble Tea ordered at one of the shops on the lower floor while Asuka took you by the hand, dragging you to another corner of the Observatory, telling another gossip about her internship with the TV station.

"Besides, you won't believe it, but what she's wearing are tons of foundation ... or rather ... quick-setting concrete," she joked, making a playful tongue, and you burst out laughing.

The Bubble Tea went almost sideways, risking to get out of your nostrils. "Please! Stop that!" you prayed, trying to push back the tears at the corners of the eyes if, for too much laughter or the burning up your nose, you don't know. "You should be more patient with your superiors ..."

Asuka shrugged, resting her elbows on the railing of the parapet "To hell with it! They make my life hell! At least I get my revenge" you looked at her, but there was no trace of hatred in her voice or resentment in her big blue eyes. The ghost of a smile hung over her purple lips.

You folded the corners of your lips back, fiddling with the plastic straw. "But you're happy, aren't you Asu-chan?" you murmured thoughtfully, continuing to watch the small rubbery tapioca balls floating in the liquid between your hands.

Asuka turned to you, blinking, "Uh?"

You woke up as if caught thinking about something you shouldn't have, and you absentmindedly waved a hand in front of your face, embarrassed "Don't mind! I was thinking aloud ..." you apologized as you sat upon the railing.

The icy metal against your thighs made you shiver, but the sun against your cheeks was warm and pleasant, like the light breeze that had started to mess up your hair.

It was a lovely day.

Asuka stared at you with a sly smile, resting her mind against the palm of her hand. "And you? Can't you tell me anything new?"

You raised your eyes to the sky, drinking, thoughtful "Mmh ... no, I would say no" you mumbled, sipping from the glass again.

But Asuka was not happy with the answer, "Look, you don't trick me!" she shouted, pointing at you, narrowing her eyelids with long white eyelashes "Do you want to tell me that you haven't met anyone interesting while working at the shop?!"

You looked at her from under your eyelashes, suspicious, "I don't like where this is going..."

Asuka puffed up her cheeks. "Yes, yes! There are always a lot of people there! Do you want to tell me that there was nobody who caught your attention? Not a little bit?"

You shook your head "No" you said merely looking up to the sky "I'm fine right now and I have no intention of going looking for someone or despairing about it" you explained calmly, shrugging your shoulders "but if I ever meet someone who will awaken my interest enough to convince me to take risks and get involved, well... you will be the first to know "you promised her with a smile.

"I hope so for you ..."

A roar swallowed Asuka's words.

"Uh? What is happening?" asked a man beside you, leaning over the railing in the direction of the noise.

In the angle you were in, you couldn't see anything—only a lonely cloud of gray dust stretch between the buildings, not far from you.

Another roar reverberated in the air. This time closer.

"A collapse?" someone behind you ventured.

A third rumble shook the air. This time so close that your stomach turns.

"Asu-ch—" you shouted, turning to your friend, but she didn't hear you over the screams of the other people around you when the floor of the Observatory began to tremble under your feet.

You let go of the Bubble Tea, whose glass fell into the void behind you, disappearing between the buildings below. Your hands ran to the railing, holding on with all your might so as not to be thrown back by the jolts.

Asuka instinctively grabbed you by the arms, hugging you with a scream, trying to push you towards her, tearing you from a fall of thirty floors.

"Do not give up! I beg you! Do not give up!" she prayed to you with tears in her eyes. Her voice always so calm now twisted in a desperate scream, "Hold on! Please!" she repeated, grabbing you with more force under your shoulders when a more violent shock struck the whole building. Her grip was so firm that you were sure that her fingers would leave bruises on your skin for days.

The screams sharpened.

You couldn't even hear your thoughts.

By now, the only thing you could do was close your eyes and pray that everything went well. And when your body fell forward, against Asuka's, you didn't even realize it.

Around you, people flocked to the exit. There was a crowd around the emergency stairs and the elevator entrance. People shouted and squirmed.

Someone was pushing to try to get there first. Someone else was crushed against the columns, trying to stay upright.

A shoe hit Asuka's temple, still flattened on the ground near you. She screamed, or it seemed so. You weren't sure. The only things that filled your ears were the screams and roars from below you.

"Let's leave!" not even your voice sounded like it came out of your mouth. But it was you who screamed it, because Asuka nodded, while a trickle of blood began to streak her cheek from under her hair.

Instinctively you looked for each other's hand and stood up against all expectations. Your knees were shaking like jellies, from fear, the constant shaking of the building, and perhaps even the adrenaline that was now pressing against the frontal bone of your brain.

The only thing you wanted was to get out of that hell.

With a shaky and uncertain step, you started to run towards one of the exits, where people still crowded, looking for an escape route.

Other people came behind you, crushing you from one side to the other. By now, you couldn't understand where you were anymore. The only thing you knew for sure was that you didn't leave Asuka's hand despite everything.

Her grasp was your only point of reference.

Another pair of hands grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back, you screamed trying to wiggle and escape that iron grip around your forearm at least until your face met that of a woman, her face pale and distraught, and her eyes red for tears.

"... I beg you! Have you seen my Sosuke?!" the woman's voice was cracked, hoarse, who knows how many times before she had repeated that.

You blinked, confused, without really hearing her words. But Asuka's hand was still there, desperately anchored to yours, and that was the bit of hope that helped you recover a bit of lucidity "... What...?" you repeated, confused.

The woman burst into tears "My child! Have you seen my child?!" she shouted grabbing the sleeve of your shirt tightly, the fabric tore as the woman shook her head in despair, but you didn't even notice "I lost sight of him just a moment ... a moment ..."

Yet another shock struck the Observatory.

"I ... I don't..." you instinctively started looking around, running out of words.

The woman screamed louder, "Please! He has an orange Ground Zero hat! he's... so young, please! "

The screams continued to crowd in your head, along with the bodies huddled around you. Your head was spinning, swirling.

Asuka shouted your name, giving your hand a more forceful tug, trying to drag you forward as a small crack opened between the bodies in front of her.

But you didn't move.

The grip of that desperate mother kept you there.

Amid that complete chaos, it was there that your eyes caught an orange dot in the distance.

At first, its edges were blurred like a speck in one eye. It disappeared several times from your sight, covered by heads and hands that waved in the air. But once you saw it, you could no longer ignore it.

A boy had crouched in the opposite corner of the tower, sobbing desperately and screaming, but nobody seemed to have seen him. But you.

You looked down at the woman still harpooned on your arm, she trembled and kept murmuring meaningless words, slipped into total despair.

You squeezed your fingers more tightly around Asuka's, who suddenly gave up trying to push you into the crowd.

When you turned around, she was looking at you. Her eyelids widened as she saw an uncertain smile extend on your lips. But she understood because her hand tightened more tightly on yours.

But it didn't help.

You shrugged your shoulders with a determined gesture, freeing yourself from both Asuka and the woman's hands, and you sprang forward, avoiding the body of a man who came against you. Your legs moved, shaken by a new rush of adrenaline.

You didn't even hear Asuka desperately calling your name; by now, the only thing your ears were full of was the fast beating of your heart against the eardrums. Nor much less, your eyes don't capture your friend's attempt to grab you again, go empty, pushed back by the crowd. The only target on which your gaze was fixed was that orange dot at the bottom of the tower.

Before you knew it, you were there, next to that little crumpled figure on itself that kept screaming and crying.

"You are Sosuke, right?" you asked in a calm and reassuring tone, without even knowing how you had been able to.

Hearing his name, the boy suddenly stopped screaming, nodding. He sniffled, wiping his tears with his arm. "I want my mom!"

"Give me your hand Sosuke, now we'll go together, okay?" and, as you did with Asuka, you shook his hand, determined not to let him go.

Sosuke seemed reticent, but he did not resist or try to escape, and a sigh of relief escaped your lips.

You turned around, and it was almost with tears in your eyes that you noticed Asuka running towards you, shouting your name.

"Asu-chan!" you greeted her, partly relieved that she had not abandoned you there, alone.

The relief was fleeting.

A shock more durable than the others forced you and Sosuke, as well as most of those present, on their knees or to look for something to hold on not to end up lying on the ground.

This time the floor didn't just shake. The blow was so sharp that you felt it up to your knees and scattered throughout your body until your teeth chattered. The screams reached the peak, the air filled with dust and iron beams fell from the ceiling and beyond the window.

You saw the floor in front of you open in a black slit that spread with frightening rapidity, emitting a horrible creak. Your eyes searched for Asuka's, fixed in horror on the same show. She had seen it too.

Sosuke let out a more sharp cry, sinking his face against your chest.

The floor crumbled. The weight of gravity weighed on your shoulders, crushing you against what remained of the corner where you found yourself trapped.

You cursed, trembling like a leaf, but your hands firmly grasped the waist of the child who screamed in terror when you raised him in the air. You didn't even know how you managed to stand up.

"Asu-chan! Take him!" you shouted, throwing Sosuke towards Asuka, who instinctively spread her arms, seeing him arrive.

Your heart skipped a beat. Two.

You didn't realize you held your breath until your friend's arms tightened around the baby.

"JUMP! DAMN! JUMP! " Asuka shouted, reaching out her other arm.

You tried to run, while the emptiness drew your body and the floor under your feet with more force. It was like trying to swim against the current.

The figure of Asuka became more and more distant.

And suddenly, you understood that you were now running uphill on an increasingly steep surface.

You pushed with your points against the last bit of floor remained intact, where the crack had now become an abyss overlooking the void.

You felt your stomach squirm at the feeling of the ground missing under your feet.

Your fingers touched those of your friend, looking for them desperately, and you smiled, drunk with joy.

I've done it! I've done it!

But Asuka's face twisted in horror when that contact failed, and her hand tightened around the air. She screamed your name at the top of her lungs, and it seemed to you that her voice filled the whole city with the force with which she did it as your body dragged down.

Lower and lower.

Still, that stupid smile didn't leave your lips as tears started to pinch the corners of your eyes.

You didn't even have the strength to scream anymore.

"I got you!"

You sensed the movement of air. The hair suddenly stopped lashing your face with strength, and the stomach's emptiness disappeared. There was only a warm warmth against your cheek and a rhythmic and dull accelerated thudding against the ears in its place.

You were no longer at the mercy of anything. Two strong supports surrounded your back, resting on your shoulders, and legs, just below the knees.

When you found the courage to open your eyes that you had not realized that you had closed, you found your face pressed against a firm and broad chest. Your hands clawed to a thick, dark green fabric.

The air around you seemed to have come to life, charged with electrostatic current and subtle bright green flashes.

You were still in the air, suspended in nothing, but you were not falling. It was like you were floating.

It was with uncertain eyes that you looked up, meeting the profile of a square jaw, a face with soft features and cheeks full of freckles. A boy. A Hero.

The wind stirred a short mop of curly hair cut in a messy textured top, and on the nape in an undercut fade. Two large, emerald green eyes lowered onto yours.

"Don't be afraid," the stranger reassured you, and for a moment, you thought you were dreaming, but his voice and body seemed too real "I'm here now," he continued, broadening the smile that had never abandoned his lips.

Your eyes could not leave him, unable to lower them onto the city, still too far from your feet.

A strange heat began to radiate throughout your body, down to your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

It is there. Suspended in air, in the arms of that stranger, that you stopped being afraid.

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hanadoesstuffbadly · 4 years

Text

‘Online’ ch I - RS&t7D University AU

Hello, I was looking for Red Shoes fanfiction when I discovered that there are little to no Modern AUs being written. So i figured, screw it, I’ll do it myself because I love modern AUs.

This is the first chapter and it is very long, so if you don’t feel like reading it, fair enough. I’m planning to write the whole thing anyway because I also love writing and it’s good practise.

Small warning if you do want to read this: Merlin is British. I am British. British people are very sarcastic and very moody all of the time. This entire first chapter is from Merlin’s perspective so there are a lot of British phrases and idioms used. If you are fortunate enough to not be an eternally grumpy Brit, don’t worry, the next chapter will be a very bad written impersonation of an American!!

Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please don’t judge me too harshly, I am but a young peasant girl.

Sooooooooo.... Summary.

Merlin is a twenty year old student at Southend University. To combat his detrimental narcissism, his counsellor suggests online gaming. Merlin tries to cheat by using an ancient game called Fairytale Island, which designs your avatar to match a photograph. This plan falls apart when his laptop explodes, turning his avatar tiny and green. He ploughs on regardless, sure that he will encounter nobody. Little does he know, that a newly moved student from the States is coming online the very same night. :)

(It’s kinda switched so Merlin is the last of the F7 to get his attitude set right.)

With that done... I hope you don’t hate it!

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Merlin couldn’t stand mornings, especially Friday mornings. Because for the duration of his first year of Uni, Friday’s lessons had always begun at the reasonable hour of 2 o’clock in the afternoon. This left Merlin a good half hour to be awake, out of the door and on his bike, zipping past the crowded Southend beaches. In short, Merlin hated Friday mornings because he had not seen one in fifteen months. Needless to say, it was not a welcome reunion.

Approximately twelve minutes prior to commencing with today’s zipping -at the unlawful hour of nine in the morning- Merlin had been idly stirring shredded wheat into a depressing gruel (much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, red-haired cook,) basking in his own tardiness.

Had he asked for counselling? No.

Did he need counselling? None of their business.

Did he want to be dragged out of bed at half-eight by six overbearing housemates who apparently believed it was "necessary" or "overdue"; to be packed off to the Resource Centre so that they could “Evaluate any and all emotional or psychological issues which may have arisen for you, as a student whom we have identified as being at risk, before the beginning of this new academic term”? No, he did not!

Contrary to a promising forecast, the sky was a sapphire pool overhead. Thus, the fantasy of motorbiking down empty seafront roads, the brassy drumming of thunder and the gurgle of saltwater smothering his roaring engine (Hans called him a madcap but personally, Merlin preferred the term Raptor-trainer) was squashed. And given that a motorbike charging down the road in the wee hours of the morning was frowned upon, Merlin was forced to content himself with walking at a purposefully counter-productive pace to the bus stop down the hill. Stubbornly, he insisted on himself that he wore a cobalt-blue, long-sleeved shirt with grey trousers; dressing not for the weather he had, but the weather he wanted. This was a stupid idea and the sleeves were rolled up before he reached sea-level. He had to restrain himself from missing a bus entirely. It wasn’t crowded, because of course it wasn’t. Everyone else in Southend had better things to be doing.

Like sleeping.

The bus didn’t even go all the way to the college, stopping at least a dozen yards from the entrance like a noncommittal shrug. It took everything in Merlin to not keep his butt planted securely in his seat; let the busyness of British public transport whisk him away to the Leigh on Sea station; catch a train to Fenchurch street; disappear into Central London; never be seen or heard from again, especially by Dr- as a student whom we have identified as being at risk- LeFey; then inevitably die from water pollution at a ripe old age of thirty-five. It took everything in him, but he walked down to the building, through glass-doors ornamented by a million sweaty fingerprints, and into a waiting room that smelt of Sellotape.

Unsurprisingly, the stately woman at the desk gave him barely a passing glance, handing him a form to fill in with the enthusiasm of an automatic door sliding open. Also unsurprisingly, the assistant behind her paused in rearranging a filing cabinet to brush a couple of sandy hairs behind her ear and chew the end of a pen like it was made of liquorice. She even wandered aimlessly away from her task altogether, sidling up to the front desk most inconspicuously.

Merlin's mood brightened. While he leant down to scribble his name and address on the paper, he winked discreetly in her direction. In spite of definitely not looking at him, her cheeks turned beetroot crimson and what might have been a giggle or the beginnings of a small heart attack escaped her lips.

Against all of the shoddiness of his day so far, Merlin grinned inwardly, sizing her up with half of his attention. Tall, slender, twenty-one, twenty-two most likely. Stray blonde curls framed a thickly tanned face, the rest piled atop her head in a bun. In all, not a bad picture, although her wardrobe did leave something to be desired: Bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt reading "Darth Vader was framed", betraying that

A. She still thought that bell-bottomed anything was a good look, and

B. That she had never paid more than six quid for a shirt.

However, her figure and the hang of her hair more than made up for those discrepancies. Perhaps he could get something out of this counselling after all. With this in mind, he cleared his throat loudly,

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he waved the form vaguely in front of his face, "but I have a small problem."

Perhaps knowing exactly what he was doing and being used to it by this point, the woman, Ms Marion- who had decided that underneath a lace cardigan was the place for a name tag- ignored him completely, leaving miss bell-bottoms to round the edge of the counter and come to stand by his side over the offending form.

"What's the matter?" She asked, sincerely.

"Y'see," Merlin began, fixing her with a smile that even Jack admitted made anyone weak at the knees, "right here it's asking me for something that I just don't really get." He pointed accordingly, and bell-bottoms leant in closer. To get a really good look at the text, of course.

"We need your mobile number."

"Oh, I see, now here's the thing." Wearing a look of utter helplessness, he faced bell-bottoms completely. She appeared confused, her face becoming redder by the second. "I don't have one of those."

"What?"

"A mobile number." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't mind terribly giving me yours, would you?"

If he squinted, Merlin was fairly certain he would see her bell-bottomed soul leaving her body and fluttering out of the window. He took her lack of reaction as an invitation,

"Lin Pendragon." He extended one hand, still cloaked in a fingerless glove the colour of wet bark. Despite his housemates deciding otherwise, Merlin was in fact not his actual name, and he would sooner be caught dead than introducing himself with it to an attractive young woman such as this. "Part time Ancient Historian, full time Romantic."

Bell-bottoms took the hand and shook it with unexpected firmness,

"Gowlle Delocks. Part time assistant, full time, um..." She seemed a little lost, floundering like a GCSE English paper "Full time-"

"Doctor Morgan LeFey. Part time tolerator of tardiness. This is not one of those times Mister Pendragon."

Spinning on his heel and effectively knocking the form onto the floor, Merlin faced the speaker, who stood in the doorway of a side-office like a disgruntled flamingo.

One thing came to mind when Merlin looked at the counsellor and that was the smell created when someone burns popcorn in a microwave. Forehead too small; nose too large, a hairy wart taking up most of it; everything that should end in a curve ending in an acute, needle-like point. She looked like a bad imitation of a Picasso painting come to life. Yellow hair that might have been blonde hung from her scalp, which he could almost see for how thin the stuff was; and her olive skin was definitely closer to a pale, sickly green from where Merlin was standing. The murky, sky-blue gown that would have looked excessive in the nineteenth century certainly didn't help. Summed up, she looked like a creature one would throw something at if it approached them on a dark night. Merlin felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

So, he had been forced into counselling by a literal witch. Today was just going swimmingly wasn't it.

Dr Lefey's "office" was exactly what Merlin expected. Save of course for a cauldron, broomstick and small children in display cases. Indigo curtains rather than blinds hung at each side of a wide picture window that looked out on a garden peppered by horrendous little gnomes. Their China faces were stained green by years of mildew build-up. Her wooden floor she had covered with gaudy, knitted rugs, and the sides of her desk had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to them. On the off-white walls hung various, tasteless frames of all sorts and colours, each depicting a photograph taken by somebody who was evidently not a professional photographer. One such picture especially caught his eye.

"This you, Miss… Lefty?" The question was stupid, of course it was her, every other human being on the planet had at least managed to look like one. The photo showed the woman sitting in a cluster of children underneath a cobbled-together shack, a paper tiara on her head and a wand made out of several plastic straws. "The fairy princess in the mauve cardigan?"

"First," She answered, pushing the door shut behind her with her pointy hip, "It's Doctor Lefey, but you will call me Morgan in these sessions." Merlin couldn't help but smirk internally when she assumed there would be more than one of these nightmares. "Second, yes, that is me in the photograph, November, four years ago, Uganda, a recycling activity. And third," The slam of a hefty file being dropped unceremoniously on to a desk made Merlin jump. "I was the fairy Queen."

"Well, your majesty," he ducked his head in a mock bow, "you've aged..." At first, he searched for an adverb but then realised, he didn't particularly need one.

Morgan gave Merlin that pinched smile that he'd seen Arthur's girlfriend, Gwen, give customers at The Golden Goose Cafe when they told her she had no idea who she was dealing with. Also called the 'booting-you-into-next-Thursday-would-cost-twenty-pounds-an-hour-but-i-am-legitimately-considering-it' face. Merlin ignored her easily. He'd had years of practise doing so.

He plopped himself down onto a teal green sofa with a ketchup stain running up one arm. It wasn't a comfortable seat, but the garish pixie cushion did help somewhat. Morgan paid him no attention, leafing through the thick file which she had retrieved moments before. She paid him no attention for a little too long.

As aforementioned, Merlin was fine with ignoring people. Even enjoyed it sometimes. Unattractive waitresses, bin-collectors, overweight people at the gym, pedestrians. Being ignored, however, was a far less comfortable experience. Probably because it was such a rare one. He coughed into the pasty silence.

"Those your medical records?" The room was quiet enough to facilitate a pin drop sounding like a bowling ball being dropped. A long, controlled intake of breath was easily made out. “Cosmetic surgery?”

"No." She said shortly, continuing with her browsing, "but they are yours." Merlin quickly stopped ignoring her. "And your birth records and your parents birth records and every other detail of your stimulating life story, Merlin." He short-circuited momentarily.

"That's not my-"

"No, it isn't your given name, but it's what your roommates call you and according to them, the one you prefer going by." Alright, those googly snitches were going to pay later. He recovered from his surprise gracefully as always, but that left him no less indignant.

"I- I wasn't aware that you'd have access to that information."

"Several reliable sources have identified you as being at risk, Merlin, everything in this folder is strictly need-to-know." A smile that could have been genuine spread across her features, and it may have been nice if it weren't so nauseating to look at. He crossed his arms and sunk lower into the sofa, muttering to himself,

"You hardly 'need-to-know' about the name though."

"Obviously, anything said in this session doesn't leave this room and the values and standards of Southend University are to be observed at all times." With quick strides on legs like skipping ropes, Morgan left her desk and placed herself gracelessly on a trademark shrink chair.

The ‘So, Merlin.’ Was audible on her spindly lips before they left them.

"So, Merlin. First, I'd like you to relax," Difficult, I'm sitting across from a gorgon, I'm a man moments from death, "and tell me about your background, where you're from, your family." He gave her a blank look.

"You just told me that you have a massive file telling you that stuff."

"Yes, but I'd like to know that you also know that stuff. Reviewing your case will prove very difficult if we aren't on the same page. Now, if you please." With an exasperated puff of air into his cheeks, Merlin leant forward so that his elbows braced against his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Fine. I was born in Seoul, South Korea; my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was brought to England to live with an aunt in Ipswich."

"And you were comfortable with this change?" The interruption caused Merlin to blank for a second.

"Wha- I was three. I was comfortable sitting in a tumble dryer with knickers on my head!" This retort was not appreciated, judging by the tapping of Morgan's pencil against a green clipboard that had seemingly materialised out of thin air.

"These are regulation questions, try not to overthink your answers." With this she returned to drawing writing utensils from the ether apparently, a silent signal for him to continue. Already, Merlin's mind was going through fantasies of sprinting down the hill, across the high street and off the end of Southend pier.

"Alright then, the aunt was arrested when I was six-"

"Why was she arrested?"

"Are shrinks meant to interrupt their patients?"

"I'm not a shrink, I'm a University counsellor, why was your aunt arrested?" Nothing about this experience was relaxing. Getting a Frostino with Miss Delocks, the part-time-assistant would have been relaxing.

"Possession of illegal firearms. Just a taser. Five years in prison under the law of the United Kingdom. Happy?"

"Yes, this is very helpful. So, your guardian was arrested and…"

"I went into care, obviously. Seven foster homes over six years. Adopted after my eleventh birthday by Igraine Pendragon and her husband. I moved into their home in York, Summered in Cumbria; went to school with their son. Igraine died when I was fifteen, Uther when I was seventeen. Arthur and I moved out to one of the cottages we own in Leigh two years ago. It was all perfectly fine and now here I am at Southend University in a counselling session I didn't ask for with a counsellor that I'm certain nobody has ever asked for." Okay, the last bit slipped out half unwarranted, but he might as well be honest.

Long, mole-flecked fingers curled and tightened around the edges of her clipboard, leaving dents in the malleable green cork like it was plasticine.

"Right." Came a snarled response from between smiling teeth. "Now, on to some more current information: Who do you live with during your time at the University?"

"Igraine’s son, Arthur, and the five student tenants who rent out rooms." That felt weird to say. For some reason, whenever Merlin thought about the six other occupants of Stanrocc cottage, it was hard to remember that they weren’t all related in one way or another.

“Right, and are you comfortable with these living arrangements?”

“I’m a University student who gets to live in a fully catered house free of charge, what do you think?” The pinched ‘threaten-to-speak-to-my-manager-again-and-I-will-hit-you-with-a-shoe’ smile returned.

“Okay then.” A rustling of paper signalled that the background questions were mercifully coming to a close, as, Merlin hoped, was this entire experience. Unfortunately, the next words out of the witches’ mouth weren’t, ‘thank you for your time, Mister Pendragon, I hope you and Miss Delocks have a splendid afternoon.’ Instead she intertwined her grotesque fingers and looked him in the eye. The fact that he didn’t turn to stone was a shock.

“Now, Merlin, I’d like to know what features you look for when meeting new people.” Alright, not what he’d wanted or expected to hear.

“Is this a personal interview-”

“Just-” Morgan closed her eyes and pressed her lips together until they completely disappeared into her face. “Answer the question, Merlin.”

“I look for the same things anyone looks for. Do they look approachable? Would I want to be seen with them out and about? Those kinds of things.” He darted his eyes from Morgan’s varicose ankles to her sloping forehead.

“So, you base the value of other people’s company solely upon their outward appearance and draw any and all judgements from those assets?” There were too many words in that sentence, was all Merlin could think in response. When he did finally puzzle out what the question actually was, he gave the woman a jovial nod. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

“Of course I do, how a person looks tells you a lot about who they are, doesn’t it?”

Morgan must have been writing something down, but it still felt as though her eyes had not left Merlin for a second. An intake of breath through her wide nostrils filled the room.

“To some extent, maybe.” She shifted on her chair and the look in her eye of a person who had gotten exactly what they wanted was unnerving. “Merlin, do you think you feel this way about other people because these mentalities could have been forced on you in the past?” Her nasal voice had become one of understanding and professionalism, the Northern accent thinning considerably. Merlin didn’t like it at all. “Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look?”

Throughout this entire, stupid session, Merlin had been wanting to avoid answering questions. Now all he wanted to do was say something so devastating yet so on point that it would shut this witch up for the rest of her career. And yet his tongue remained still, rooted to the floor of his mouth.

“I see.” The counsellor stood and shook out her skirts with the smug air of a woman victorious. Merlin wanted to throw something at her. Like a shoe. She went around to the back of her desk and retrieved a post-it-note shaped like a unicorn. “I’m giving until the beginning of the new term to combat this problem that we seem to have here." In one motion she ripped away the post it note and was making her way back towards him, brandishing it like a literal curse rather than simply the figurative one that it clearly was. She handed it to him unforgivingly.

"I'd like you to try a social activity that is purely audio based. Interactions with others that don't allow them to see your appearance." The urge to crumple the note into a ball was strong. “I’ll schedule another session three weeks from now.”

"And what if I'm perfectly happy with the way things are? I don't need to change anything." Merlin shot back, and control of the situation brushed his fingertips before Morgan's condescending smile dragged it out of reach again.

"Tell me, Merlin, how many reports do you think I received from your professors and peers of this self-important, judgemental behaviour?" Merlin was already standing as he milled the question over for a full couple of seconds.

"One or two, I'd imagine." He finally mumbled. The witch drummed her pencil against her crossed arms and shook her head. "Well," Merlin started, "it can't have been-"

"Twenty-four." She didn't look victorious now, just a little sorry. That was so much worse. "Twenty-four different people, who you have known for only a year or so. Still think you don't need to change anything?"

Merlin didn't want to look around at her ridiculous face again. He didn't think he even knew twenty-four people well enough for them to report him. Her voice carried on no matter how much he wanted it not to.

"If I don’t see improvement three weeks from now, regardless of how you feel about it, I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely."

The facts stung like poisonous, green smoke in Merlin's head. He pulled at the ornamented door handle, dismissing himself. Then a question came into his mind and forced itself to be asked.

"What activities would you suggest, then?"

"Start an interactive podcast; volunteer for a University chat-line; Online gaming." Merlin's humourless scoff punctuated her list.

"Yeah, no. I'm not an ‘over the phone’ kind of guy." He stepped out into the hallway and noticed Miss Delocks' head spin in his direction. The last ten minutes had dampened any mood he might have been in for going out, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to cheer himself up. He heard one last reply from the witch before he strode off in the assistant’s direction,

"Keep that attitude up and you won't be a "Part-time Ancient Historian" either."

In case the presence of a pale pink fiesta with mermaid stickers running along the doors wasn’t indicative enough, the loud guffaws and scattered shouts told Merlin that his housemates had company. This was before he even reached the top of the hill. Night was creeping across the sky already. Merlin would have liked to stay out longer, but the witches’ words had stuck a little too keenly to him, and a college bar surrounded by five beautiful young ladies was not, it seemed, the best place to process things.

Stanrocc cottage was one of a kind really. It was called a cottage because it managed to be too small to be a villa but also too pretty to be a house. The walls were brick, covered in an artsy kind of cement stuff with shells mixed into it, then painted white. Kingfisher blue window frames peeked out from beneath an overgrowth of marble-like gladioli and ballet-slipper foxgloves. The diminutive front garden was mostly taken up by the wild-cherry tree that had looked hurricanes and landfalls in the face, released a string of angry expletives and stayed precisely where it was with zero intention of ever going away. Around its ankles sprung up Snowdrops every Winter, but right now, in the twilight of August, the space was taken up by a hoard of decaying daffodil corpses.

Through one of the windows, a blonde head was just visible. It stood up haphazardly and came to the door when Merlin knocked. Jack appeared in the doorway, but he’d barely laid eyes on Merlin before he was leaning back inside and shouting into the noisy fray, his accent thick, probably from laughing,

“Ee’s back!” With that he left the door hanging open. Merlin entered, a little disgruntled at the lack of welcome, until he got inside and found out why. Seated on the various beanbags, chairs, and sofas, were their usual six occupants, but with them were four less usual ones. Alright, not that unusual, three of them Merlin knew he recognised.

First was Arthur’s fiancée, Gwen. She was a common recurring visitor. Whenever Arthur wasn’t following her around the café, she was following him around the cottage. The other two present were less clearly defined by engagement rings or Facebook relationship status’.

Upon sitting back down on his very expensive armchair, Jack had one-hundred-and-fifty centimetres of pink-leggings wearing, ashen skinned vegetarian seating herself comfortably on his lap. That one was Viviane… Or Niniane. Merlin never actually paid attention when Jack gushed about her, but he was almost sure her name was one of those. She was Jack’s “study partner'', both of them being up and coming chemists. Funny, because to Merlin’s knowledge, studying didn’t usually involve reclining on each other’s laps; playing with each other’s hair (or her playing with his, at least) and going out on spa trips together. If they weren’t together, Merlin couldn’t blame Jack. All spread-out, round eyes and large lips, she did look a little like a fish with legs.

Lastly there was Briar. Nobody actually knew what Briar was. Was she Hans’ friend? His girlfriend? A kind of omnivorous goat? It was a mystery. Altogether they knew seven things about her: Like Hans, she was German; she took fencing lessons; her wardrobe consisted entirely of ankle-length, floaty skirts and a special talent of hers was tripping over literal air. She slept with a baseball bat, wore purple contacts in her eyes and, while you wouldn’t imagine so from her physique, she had the appetite of a full grown horse. They didn’t even know what she was doing at the Uni. With her legs folded in front of her, she leant on her maybe-boyfriend-maybe-friend’s signature bean bag chair, one hand holding a row of scrabble pieces. The other was surreptitiously burrowing through Hans’ homemade bag of steak flavoured crisps, which famously tasted like dog food to everyone but those two. The curly-headed bag-holder didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was one other girl with them, seated on a folding chair between Briar’s feet and Arthur’s elbow. Merlin gave her barely a passing glance however, taking in a round figure, cherry-pink shorts, and shoulder-length brown hair before he lost interest.

Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look.

The counsellor’s stupid voice drove through his thoughts unbidden like an off-rail train. He shook his head and shoved them back down into his subconscious where they belonged, ready to be forgotten.

The ringing of the words, however, was replaced by his stomach gurgling irritably. A muffin and a salted-caramel hot chocolate were not enough to go on for a whole afternoon. His eyes fell on the Chinese food containers strewn about the coffee table and surrounding floor. A takeaway was a rare occasion in Stanrocc cottage. In the entire county of Essex, there were exactly four fast-food establishments that Hans trusted and respected, and thus, would allow them to purchase from. Two of these were fish-and-chip shops; one- Merlin’s particular favourite- did flame-grilled kebabs; and the last one was the Jade Dragon Restaurant. Very expensive- meaning Jack was probably to thank for it- and very, very good Chinese food. It dawned on Merlin a little late that this uncharacteristic treat might have been meant to make him feel better, judging by the sizeable stack of barbecue kebab boxes that could be seen just inside the kitchen door. Nobody else liked barbecue kebabs.

But he was too tired and too hungry to feel bad for not coming back. He’d been busy.

The energetic game of scrabble had come to a standstill when his arrival was announced. Now ten pairs of eyes were on him and six of them were concerned. Merlin made for the kitchen, the multitude of expectant faces making his chest knot.

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, half-heartedly when he noticed both Arthur and Hans shifting as if to get up. “I’m going to bed.”

Noki, the second of the triplets, swept up a container filled with Prawn crackers and extended them in Merlin’s direction. He waved them away dismissively.

“Really, it’s fine, I’ll grab something from the fridge.” And with that he left the room.

Much to his dismay, the fridge was a sorry sight, being mostly bare save for half a watermelon and an empty milk carton. It was a Friday, he soon remembered, which meant Hans would be grocery shopping tomorrow. Also, Briar was there.

Footsteps came thudding along the short passage between the living room and the kitchen. Merlin didn’t have to look up to know that an orange vest with arms was blocking the door.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Even in the fridge, Merlin could feel the glare in the back of his head. Crossed arms also wouldn’t be a surprise.

“I want to know where you’ve been, and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us you weren’t coming back?” Merlin finally selected a yogurt cowering at the very back with a best-before date of yesterday. He shut the fridge door with his foot, searching for a clean spoon on the draining board.

“You know you aren’t actually my dad, right?” He plunged the end of the spoon through the paper covering and started ripping the excess away. “I can go where I want.”

“No.” Arthur had now moved completely into the room. “But you’re still one of us, mate, and we were all worried. The triplets almost got in the truck to come pull you out of whatever ditch you’d fallen into.” Merlin actually looked him in the face this time. He was scratching his ghost of a goatee the way he always did when he felt in deep water. “You didn’t exactly leave in great spirits this morning.”

“Lurrk, uum fyrn.” Merlin said through a mouthful of yogurt. The stuff was absolutely repulsive, but it was the best conversation avoidance technique he had without a book to hand. He manoeuvred around Arthur, trying desperately to keep from openly weeping at the foul stuff. The best-before date ought to have been the may-not-kill-you-before date.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed behind him. “I can see that. But you’re-“ Merlin dashed up the stairs, discarding the yogurt discreetly in the kitchen bin as he passed it.

Arthur had changed since meeting Gwen. It was like something had been plucked out of him. The thing that had made Merlin feel close to him while everything was happening: The adoption, losing both their parents. It was like Arthur had grown up, changed somehow. And had left Merlin behind.

And from what he had seen in the other room, Arthur wasn't the only one.

Merlin emptied the yogurt out of his mouth and gargled mouthwash to get rid of the lingering flavour of overripe strawberries. A knock at his bedroom door interrupted him.

“What did the counsellor say?” It was Arthur again. Merlin had honestly had enough of today. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He poked his head out, startling his friend who still had his fist raised to knock again.

“She suggested I take up gaming.”

-*-

Hours later, Merlin turned over his pillow again, trying his absolute hardest to fall asleep. He’d tried relaying a movie in his head, but thinking about the ending just made him sad. He’d tried reading his new book, but Neil Gaiman wasn't particularly relaxing. At last he had just shut his eyes and told himself to sleep, with real authority and gumption. That just made him more awake because his brain hated him.

Eventually he sat up and tugged the string on his lamp. The clock on his desk told him it was 2:26. Merlin’s bones told him that he was actually in a void in which time was a construct of society, and he felt much more inclined to believe the latter. Seeing as somebody, probably Hans, had left a plate of reheated kebabs in front of his door, Merlin hadn’t starved, so he couldn’t explain the hollow discomfort that was plaguing him now.

Actually, he could, he just didn’t want to.

Twenty-four people thought he was a self-important, narcissistic idiot.

Walking around his room to clear his head quickly turned into walking downstairs and into the kitchen to get some shreddies. There were still a few chocolate ones left, them mercifully being the one cereal that Briar didn’t love more than life itself.

As he dejectedly spooned the stuff into his mouth, green smoke came unfiltered through his head again, spelling out: I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely. Merlin groaned and pulled at his bark coloured hair.

Ancient and Medieval History, while not a popular course, was still difficult to get into. Only twelve or so universities in the country even offered it. And even then, Southend alone offered the module on folklore and mythologies. So many essays, so many projects, so much time spent reading about the sordid love-lives of ancient deities. For nothing apparently. All because some people he didn’t know thought he was self-obsessed.

Nothing added up.

And gaming? Really. Podcasts and chat-lines were an instant nope, but gaming. In his entire twenty years, Merlin had played one game and one game alone. And well, that one was…

Next thing he knew, Merlin had left the congealed cereal lonely on the sink and was fighting his way through a wall of cobwebs into the storage room. The lights hadn’t worked in there for years, so Merlin clasped a battery powered torch from Colchester castle like a lifeline.

With his finger and thumb he gingerly shifted bicycles, boxes of DVDs and even a taxidermy rabbit that had gone to holes, until he saw it. The shiny, green corner of a laptop-games-console-hybrid emerged from the darkness. And then was immediately plunged back into it when the torch exploded in Merlin’s hand, the light flickering away with a puff of smoke. Merlin had expected this, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the game and high-tailing it out of the storage room before the shadows could grab his ankles and eat him. Safe in his own bedroom again, Merlin intrepidly opened the game.

Fairytale Island was created by Avalon Games nine years ago. In its entire run, localised in Southern England, it sold about three-hundred consoles. These consoles were box-like laptops, but a more accurate comparison would be an oversized Nintendo DS. The keyboard-space was taken up by the controls, while the screen was above. Graphics-wise, it was surprisingly ahead of its time. What you did was you uploaded a full body photograph of yourself, lined up the limbs and head, and voila, you had your avatar!

This particular console had been bought by an incredible woman named Igraine, for the eleven year old boy whom she had fearlessly rescued. Merlin ran a finger gently over the sticker, feeling the scratchy remnants of its glitter-glue border. On it was a simple little message, rounded off with a clumsy smiley face and the letter I, in wide swirling print.

For the most handsome Prince on Fairytale Island!!!

Obviously his avatar had to change, lest he wanted to continue with the slenderman-esque creature created by his imaginative twelve-year-old self.

Merlin had to stand on his bed to get himself into the frame of his plug-in webcam. Not really knowing what to do with his arms, he did the only rational thing and T-posed. In his pyjamas. In front of a game for preteens. At twenty past two in the morning.

If one of his housemates came in now he would kill them and dissolve the body in acid.

The screen counted down, readying the camera.

Three… Two… O-ghlowhfsajfhlsdkhlhdsjfh…………….Error………...rebooting, thank you for your patience.

Well. That seemed fair.

Hopping down as quietly as possible, Merlin watched the static clear from the screen like ghost lightning. He should have expected it. Motorcyclists had long said that ‘Love is when you like someone as much as your motorbike.” Merlin was inclined to disagree, because his bike was the one piece of mechanical equipment that didn’t figure it should explode whenever he dared breathe nearby. No bond would ever be able to trump that kind of loyalty.

Reservedly, he fiddled with a Rubix cube until the screen returned to normal. Nothing seemed that wrong with it.

Until his avatar loaded again.

A brief visit to the bathroom mirror was made so that Merlin could examine both his eyes, but when he came back they found the same sight.

Where there should have been a tall, thin, carrot-shaped, Merlinish mage character, there now resided a tiny, stout- if still Merlinish- one. And it was green. Not even a nice green, like fern or emerald or sage. This was a green that reminded a person of snot and nothing else… Except maybe a dehydrated basil plant.

Merlin bashed his head against the edge of his desk. What had that witch done to him? Why was he concerned about this?

Giving up on answering that question, he looked up to face the diminutive monster that bobbed in place like an excitable pea with legs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he tried to reason. If he didn’t focus, it almost looked like an obese, unwell Gollum. But hey, maybe the other players will like that kind of thing?

Without realising it, Merlin scoffed out loud at himself.

Other players? This game had a range of a thousand kilometres squared and was being handled by a technopollyon (a word that was not a word until Merlin discovered there was no term for a person who inadvertently breaks technology, but there were a multitude of Greek words that he could misuse in its place.)

The chances of another pathetic Englishman within his third of Essex being in possession of and online on Fairytale Island at two-thirty that night, were not worth thinking about. Because they were nonexistant.

With that in mind, Merlin took one last bitter look at his avatar, and continued resolutely on to game.

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Wow! Thanks for reading that!!! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Btw, Gwen, Viviane and Briar are my headcannons for the end credit characters and Morgan LeFey is the fairy princess)

Again, thanks so much. I’m putting the next chapter up at some point, this one from Snow’s perspective.

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