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almostempty · 3 months ago

Text

Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

��Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #divorced dad rock dilf joel #creed!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic

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neesieiumz · 1 year ago

Text

catharsis || ──────── s. aizawa

day five — SOMNOPHILIA / VOICE KINK / DADDY KINK

『 synopsis 』 after a long patrol, your husband comes with an ache only you can sate, only to find you deep in sleep

『 warnings 』 — 18+. sm*t. minors do not interact. husband!aizawa. pro-hero!reader. p*orn with very little plot. that's why it's shorter than my normal fics. established relationship. she is a natural disasters hero. and he has his normal job. somnophilia. voice kink. daddy kink. he is very much in love with you. like borderline obsessed with you. and vice-versa as well. female reader. black-coded reader but anyone can read. he calls you a slut but you enjoy it. sweet aftercare. was this self indulgent? i plead the fifth, how bout that?

『 writers notes 』 honestly feel like i overdid with the daddy kink but here we are! hope you enjoy it and you won't get a new ktober fic until next week tuesday! check the masterlist!

『 word count 』 3.0k

previous fic in ktober | masterlist | next fic in ktober

The night had fallen upon your home before you had known it, the twinkling stars gazing down at you, the full moon’s brightness fully mocking your somnolence. You could no longer stay up for him, no matter how much you tried. You had waited for long before sleep was beginning to overtake your body, and you knew this was another night you’d go without being able to see your husband.

Your husband was Eraserhead to the world, but at home, he was Shouta to you. Your Shouta. The two of you were heroes, after all, that was how the two of you met. You knew the long nights that came with the job, especially with him being a teacher as well.

Dressed in a thin two-piece set, in a pale baby blue, you lay on your bed, covered in your warm sheets, with nothing but the sounds of your automated fan blowing cool air into your room, combatting the heated summer night outside. With school out, and your husband only getting a reduced check from his main source of income, he had no choice but to join up in nightly patrols, his main specialty when it comes to hero work.

The two of you found each other while working patrols late at night, you being a new transfer from a faraway city on the outskirts of Japan, where natural disasters were then likely to occur.

“Eraserhead, what kind of name is that?” Your smile was wide, contagious even.

The two of you stood in an alleyway, with him hanging upside down from it, his eyes obscured by the bulky yellow goggles he constantly wore.

“Trust me, I was definitely not the one to make it.” His voice was deep and grave, it slightly echoed through the alley.

“That means whoever made the name must have been pretty special huh?”

It was silent for a moment, and for a moment, you thought you hit a nerve, anxiety rising within you.

“Yeah, I guess you can say they were.”

You gleaned up at him, seeing some semblance of a smile on his face. This caused your own smile to widen slightly, standing up straight.

Your marriage was a private one, one with family and friends only, a short, quiet, and intimate event. The two of you only had a week off for your honeymoon, during the time of which students were out for school to not mess with his schedule. The two of you are extremely busy, with his job as a hero course teacher and of course your own as a rescue and natural disasters hero. The two of you barely had time for each other, easily taking what you could with each other. You knew what came with dating and eventually marrying another hero, especially with someone like your Shouta.

You lay across the bed, sighing as you relaxed into the comfort of the comforters, onto the softness of the mattress. Closing your eyes, hoping to bring a new day, hopefully with your husband’s arms comfortably snug around your waist.

— — — —

You heard a squeak first.

Your eyes barely cracked open, still heavy with sleep, as the squeaking sound got louder and longer for a moment and then stopped altogether. You didn’t move, your heart racing and beating drums within your chest as the sound of muffled footsteps got closer and closer to your bed. You could hear ruffling, like clothes were being moved before the familiar fresh scent of mahogany and lavender, your body relaxing as you did so. You opened your eyes a little bit further, being able to see the clock on your bedside table, seeing the number 2:34 glowing from the digital clock. This was a first, you never woke up when he came home from patrols, you always found yourself being wrapped up in his arms when you woke up in the morning. You tried to find the confines of sleep, hoping to easily slip into it, knowing you’ll wake up in your husband’s arms once more.

Creaakkk…

His footsteps got closer and closer, his scent slowly gaining intensity as something within went off, like chilling tingles crawling up your spine. You could feel his eyes staring holes into you, possibly scanning your entire form wrapped up in your blankets. A familiar tingling sensation began to erupt and spread through you. It had been months since the last time he touched you, the two of you being completely swamped with work. Suddenly, the bedframe creaked, as you felt the mattress underneath you slightly dip. He was so close to you, his knee grazing up against your back, the blanket being the only thing that kept the two of you lightly touching. Droplets of water, possibly from his shower that he took when you were still deep in sleep, dripped down onto you, feeling the cool, wet spots from your blanket. You kept yourself as still as possible, sleep still dancing in your eyes. And then, all of a sudden, he crouched down, the bed creaking along as he did.

It took all your self-control not to gasp as you felt his erection pressing up against you. Even with the blanket, you could still feel it. You held back the slight gasp out a slight moan as he pushed his hip in between your bottom. He let out a hefty groan, his head falling right beside your own, his lips right next to your ear as he did. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, feeling yourself beginning to drip down your thighs and stain your thin shorts. All of your self-control was slipping piece by piece, your body aching and wanting for him. Your breathing became shaky, you know he could hear it, and yet he continued his actions. You could feel his lips slowly press up kisses along your cheek and jawline. His nose nestled itself in between your ear and your hairline that peeked from the night-time scarf you wore, before taking a deep breath in, taking your freshly washed scent, your body wash, as well as your nighttime hair products.

“You smell so good,” his voice wasn't strained, as if he was holding back as well.

“I missed you so much,” he spoke again, the bed creaking again as he moved, his hands beginning to move down, thumbing along the hemline of your shorts.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here as much, snowflake,” he mumbled in your ear, his hand now officially slipping down into your shorts.

His fingers slipped in between your legs, two of his fingers easily spreading your lips apart, cool air hitting your clit, causing your body to tremble ever so slightly. Your mouth is slightly agape, drool slowly dripping out of your mouth onto your pillow. His fingers easily spilled into the mess in between your legs, pressing up against your clit. Carefully, he massaged circles into you, every movement slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to wake you. He probably didn’t wake you up. You had just gotten home from aiding a beach town devastated by a hurricane, pulling people out from rubble, and creating emergency service tents.

“I know you just got back, but I…” he trailed off on his words as his fingers slipped further down, sliding in between your labia.

“I can’t hold myself back, fuck.”

Your husband sounded so pretty, his voice straining every syllable as his hips ground more and more into you. By now, your shorts were a mess, and your underwear soaked with your juices. No longer able to hold yourself back, you softly pushed your hips back against his fingers, and hard-on. He most definitely felt your movements, letting out a massive groan as his dick twitched underneath his boxers.

“Naughty girl, such a slut even in your sleep…” his chuckle echoed against your bedroom walls, as his fingers dipped in even further, one of them pressing into your hole.

“Everytime I have to stay away from you, whether it be my job, or your own job, I can feel myself descending into madness–” his words suddenly cut off with a guttural groan, his hips suddenly giving off a sharp thrust.

“I am obsessed with you, you know that right?”

Tears dripped down your eyes, staining your pillows as his words enchanted you, sending great shocks of ecstasy through you. You could feel yourself trembling, only aching for him more and more. His own boxers were sticky with pre-cum, you could feel it oozing onto your satin shorts, slowly mixing in with your own soaked juices. His hand slowly pulled themselves away from your cunt, the sudden loss of pleasure causing your emotions to deflate before feeling that very same hand pulling at the hem of your shorts. You kept as still as possible as his large hands pulled your shorts down around your ankles, revealing your wet pussy.

“Agh, fuck,” is all he could say as he suddenly sat up for a moment.

You could hear shuffling in the background, most likely him taking off his boxers, hearing some kind of fabric being thrown in the air and landing on the floor. You felt his hands back on you, before feeling the tip of cock press up against your cunt, slipping and sliding in between your lips, gathering some of your juices. With a final swipe, before you knew it, you felt him press the tip at your pussy, your body trembling as he began to push it.

“Baby, baby fuck–”

He pushed himself deeper into you, your eyes squeezed shut, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Missed you, missed you so fucking much,”

You had never heard him ramble like that, his usually deep gravelly voice seeped in desperation. His hands gripped at the meat of your thigh, holding your place as he rutted his hips into you. Your lips parted, and the entire area underneath them was drenched with sweat. Your hands tightly squeeze the comforter. The heat was overtaking you, a violent intensity grappling at you. Your thoughts that once ran wild soon became filled with one thought, Shouta. Everything about him was different, the way his voice hit your ears, each syllable easily ripping a new reaction out of you. It was only a matter of time before you lost control before he knew you were awake, feeling everything he was doing to you.

“My wife, my pretty wife,” he groaned, his hands moving up and about.

“How could I fucking stay away from you?”

With his strength, he moved you about with ease. You no longer lay at your side, but instead, your knees dug into the mattress, your stomach lying against the bed. He pressed his hand against your back, your back arching up against him. He never pulled his cock out of you, staying snug inside you as he positioned you to where he wanted you to be.

As soon as you were in position, he held no mercy towards you. Pounding away at you, like a man with nothing else to live for at that moment but to ravage you. Tears welled in your eyes as absolute euphoric pleasure took over you, it came as quick as lighting. With the sudden overload on your senses, your control over your actions snapped.

A moan slipped out of your lips, the sound causing him to falter for just a moment. With the wet sound of skin against skin, he leaned down once more, moving his long hair out of his face, finally allowing him to see the tears streaming down your face, your eyes slightly opened, rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape with spit dripping down.

One of Shouta’s hands stayed at your hips while the other suddenly reached down, wrapping around underneath your chin, pulling your body upwards with ease. Your hands propped you up as he pulled your head back, your eyes locking. The position allowed you to see just how frenzied your husband looked. His thick fat cock plunging mg into you, each movement only escalating him more and more.

“How long have you been awake sweetheart? Huh, liked what I was doing to you? Hmm?”

You tried to speak, but the only thing that could slip out of your mouth was pleas if you could even call it that.

“Daddy, Daddy-fuck, it’s too–fuck!” You screeched, gripping at the pillow as your eyes squeezed shut, overcome by the sudden frenzied thrusts your husband was sending your way.

“Dirty little slut, letting me think you were asleep ? How long were you awake for?”

For a moment, you couldn’t answer him, only focused on the effervescent volcano building up within you. All of a sudden, his thrusts slowed down, causing you to whine as you looked back at his teary eyes.

“I asked you, how long have you been awake?”

“Since the moment—ahh– you walked in! Since the moment, you walked in, please don’t stop fucking me, Daddy!”

Shouta suddenly pulled all the way out, your cunt only squeezing around the tip of his fat cock, before slamming it back into you, almost hitting and bruising your cervix. Both you and his own moans and groans echoed into the air, mixing together in a beautiful melody. His hand left your chin, your body flopping forward for a couple seconds before suddenly feeling your arms being jerked back. Your moans became scream-like as he grabbed at both of your wrists, suddenly pulling your arms back.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hissing as he pummeled into you, “so fucking tight–huh, you like the way I fuck you, huh?”

You could barely get any words out, shaking your head vigorously, clenching around him. Every plunge into your cunt devoured you, your husband’s moans and groans had your body trembling. His growls reverberated within your ears, only causing your body to curl in pleasure.

“I said,” he suddenly cut into your thoughts, your body jerking up even further, “you like the way I fuck you, slut”

“Yes, daddy!”

Shouta’s chuckle was deep, and his thrusts only overwhelmed you even further. You relished in the way your skin took the pain, feeling the bloom and sting tingle all over you. If you could blush, you knew the bottom of your thighs would be blooming red. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your eyes rolling out the back of your head. All of a sudden, Shouta dropped your arms, your body flopping, back arching into the bed as his hands gripped at the flesh at your hips and butt. His thrusts became erratic in nature, his already broken-down composure crumbling even further. You could hear his breathy words, soaking in the neediness laced within them.

“Missed you so fucking much, my wife– my fucking wife.”

“Look so fucking pretty, so fucking senstive f’ me.”

“Missed this pretty fucking pussy, hate how much I have to leave you–fuck!”

Shouta’s body lurched, towering over your own. You could feel his sweat dripping down from his body, falling like light rain into your almost bareback, your thin night-top crumpled up at your bosom. Your hands crumpled up the blankets and sheets underneath you, the feeling of your tongue slightly grazing against the fabric. Your words soon dulled out, the only thing on your tongue was your monas and coherent words putting together the title you called him in bed. You could feel your cunt tightening up around him, like a ticking time bomb going off within you.

“Such a sweet fucking pussy– fuck–” his body suddenly lunched, the bruising grip he had on your hip tightening.

Your body convulsed, shaking in his hold as your mind went blank white, tears streaking out of your eyes as your climax ripped out of you, your juices spilling and ripping all over him.

“Daddy!—” your final words cut, your voice echoing against the white walls of your room.

With a final grunt, you felt your husband slump over, feeling his dick twitching inside of you, painting your walls white. Soon, the only thing you could hear was the sounds of your heavy breathing, both your and Shouta’s as well. You let out a whimper as you felt him pull out his cock out of you, leaving you with withdrawal. Without him letting go of your hips, your legs fully slumped onto the wet bed. With hands still around you, shrieking as he swept you up from the bed. You held onto him as your husband slowly got off the bed, turning your head to see him slip into your bedroom’s bathroom, using one hand to turn the light on. He placed you on the toilet, before walking to your sink. You couldn't help the soft smile that slowly appeared on your face as you heard the faucet turn on.

He walked back over with a rag, slowly opening up your legs as you both felt and saw your cum mixed with his, dripping down your inner thigh. He moved the warm rag against your skin, letting out a short gasp as he grazed the rag against your sensitive cunt, cleaning up the main source of the mess. You heard your husband let out a breath of a chuckle, seeing a ghost of a smirk etched on his face. Your soft smile turned abashed as your hand reached up, smacking him slightly on his shoulder. Your brick house of a husband didn’t even flinch from your smack, continuing to clean you up. Soon you could feel nothing but the touch of water on your legs. Once finished, your husband slowly pulled your soaked shorts down the rest of the way, before tossing them into your laundry hamper. With nothing else, he carried you back to the bed.

The two of you slipped underneath the sheets, his arm easily wrapping your waist as he pulled you close. You had no use of the pillows, using your husband’s naked chest, humming at the warmth that radiated off of his body. Before you knew it, you had laid a soft kiss against the beefy shoulder of your husband, before snuggling back into him. You both heard and felt him move, smiling as you felt a soft pressure against the top of your head, feeling the sensation of lips. With that, you drifted off to sleep, slowly hearing your own husband’s snores echo into her.

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ghoul-bonez · 2 years ago

Text

~To You He Feels Like Home~

(Neteyam x Fem! Na’vi! Reader)

Summary: You were always a wild child, literally and figuratively. You were raised by the forest and by the creatures that lived within it, and you would never want it any other way, but when you were discovered by another Na’vi you are overcome with curiosity although the animals that raised you always warned you about the outsiders.

Word Count: 5.1k

Author’s Note: This is my longest oneshot to date, at 5.1k words & 11 google docs pages, and I’ve been working on it for weeks now… Hopefully you guys will like it :D This fic was inspired by @imeanwhynotbruv ‘s Mowlie! Spider AU which I LOVE!!! Very excited for y’all to read :)

~Last - Next~

~Series Masterlist~

~Main Masterlist~

To You He Feels Like Home

You were always wild, even as a young child. Part of that could be attributed to who was raising you, how you were being raised, and part of it was because of your personality. It came down to nurture versus nature, or nurture and nature.

You were wild by nurture, raised by the Great Mother, by her forest, and by the animals that inhabited it. In particular there was a mother palulukan who had taken you into her den with her two cubs. She was your protector, your teacher, your mother. She loved you, and that was all you needed.

You were wild by nature, always bouncing around, never able to sit still. You were fierce and strong, stubborn at times, and intelligent as could be, which you used to your advantage. It was good for your survival, but exhausting to your mother palulukan, and the other animals who had taken you under their wings to teach you different survival skills.

They had all had a part in your upbringing, every animal teaching you something different. Their lessons had turned you into the woman you were today, they had taught you how to survive, and not just that, but how to thrive.

The palulukan had taught you to fight, how to attack and pounce, and win. She had taught you to protect yourself in any situation. She had taught you that no matter how small you were, how weak you may seem to your opponent, that there would always be a way to come out on top.

The syaksyuk had taught you how to swing from tree to tree, how to escape from harm's way quickly, may you choose not to fight. They taught you about community and how to work together to get to your goal.

The yerik had taught you how to scare off predators, and if that didn’t work how to run, how to pace yourself and run for longer than you thought you could. They taught you to stay calm, to not let fear overtake you as you ran.

The nantang made sure you knew how to hunt, how to stalk then attack and finish off your prey. They made sure you could feed yourself. They made you work in a team, to take everyone's different skills into account.

The ikrans that visited from the mountains taught you how to navigate the air, although you could only do so with their help. They would show you how different different parts of the land were. They showed you what you and your family of creatures looked from above.

Your upbringing was untraditional and many Na’vi would question how you had even survived, but you knew how. There was a sense of community in your animal family that could never be rivaled. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Of course there were still things you had to teach yourself, like weaving and making clothes. This had taken some trial and error as you had started as a very young child, needing to form this skill for more protection against the elements and the forest. You had figured it out later than you would have liked, but eventually you got there and had created your own outfits.

Then you had to teach yourself how to make weapons, and how to use them. You had mastered making spears out of branches when you were young, and quickly moved on to finding hard enough materials to make knives and other blades. When your mother palulukan had noticed your proficiency of making weapons she had started bringing back lost Na’vi weapons like bows and hunting knives.

After lots of trials and errors, from carving the body wrong to tying the sting wrong, you had mastered making a bow. You had found the perfect type of wood, strong enough to hold up, but soft enough to carve. You had found the perfect string made from woven plant fibers. When you carved your final masterpiece the curve of the wood was perfect and the string strung tightly enough to work perfectly.

Then came using it. You had never seen anyone use one, and your mother palulukan refused to let you anywhere near other Na’vi, so you struggled. You had tried over, and over, and over again, and eventually it paid off. Your stance was wrong to most, strange looking to others, but it worked perfectly for you.

With all of your combined skills, ones the animals of Pandora had taught you and ones you had taught yourself, you had become a lethal hunter. Once you proved yourself capable your mother palulukan let you off on your own.

At the age of eighteen years you had been sent free, allowed to explore as you wanted, and so you did. You ran through the forest with excitement coursing through your veins. You climbed and swung from tree to tree without a care for your safety. You swam in streams and shook the water from your loose hair as you resurfaced. You hunted for your own food, coming up successful every time.

You felt free.

You had been so used to your mother palulukan hunting for you that doing it on your own was enthralling. It gave you a rush unlike any other, but you never took more than you and your family could eat, dragging it back home to your palulukan family’s den.

Your little family had never eaten like this before. They had never had a meal every day, sometimes going as many as five days without food, instead giving leftovers to you, the little Na’vi they had taken in who needed it more than they did. Now you made sure they were fed daily, you took care of them like they had you.

As much as you loved the takedown of your prey, your favorite part of hunting was the stalking. You loved tracking things, finding a scent trail and following it until you found prints in the ground. You loved watching the prey once you found it, staying hidden in the shadows and observing.

Sometimes you would even track when you weren’t hunting, practicing for later or simply wanting to observe the other animals of the forest. You especially loved watching the nantang packs as they were similar to your family but also so different.

Today had been no different, you had been out searching for the trail of a nantang pack wanting to watch and observe. However that plan changed when you caught a whiff of something you had never smelled before. It reminded you of something, yourself, but you didn’t know why.

You couldn’t help but do what you do best, stalk. You followed the scent, staying close to the ground, slinking around, and watching the dirt for prints from any type of animal. When the trail stopped and there were no prints in sight you were confused, where had it gone, you questioned.

Then it hit you, the trees, it had to be in the trees. You weren’t in the mood to climb right now, not wanting a chase in the trees, but you might not have a choice. You took a breath, steadying and readying yourself, slowly looking up to the trees to see what you would be chasing, and once you caught sight of what it was you gasped.

It was you, not quite, but something like you.

He had your blue skin, stripes laid across his skin and white freckles splattered across his body and face. He had your dark hair, but his was put up in braids, something you had no idea you could do. He had your large golden eyes which were widened just like yours right now.

You were perplexed. You knew you weren’t the same as your family, you knew you looked completely different, not the same species, but you hadn’t ever seen another person like you. You didn’t know there were other people like you.

The other person looked just as shocked as you, and he was. You looked Omaticaya, but he had never seen you before, and he had seen everyone in his clan as the next Olo’eyktan in training. He hoped you weren’t Omaticaya because of how rough of shape you were in. He never wanted anyone in his clan to be in this rough of shape.

You had scapes all over your body, little scars scattered where past cuts had been. Your hair was loose and messy, knotted and in need of a good brush and braid. As he studied the strange girl in front of him he was concerned for you, for the state you were in, but to you the unkempt hair and scars and nicks that cover your body are normal.

To you they feel like home.

To you the scrapes and scars, the cuts and nicks, feel like home. They feel like the forest as you run through the underbrush, barely dodging trees and roughly catching your arms against them accidentally. They feel like jumping into streams and rivers, scraping your knees on the rocks at the bottom as the current sweeps you off your feet. They feel like hunting as you accidentally catch your finger with your blade as you finish off your prey.

To him they were worrying, they showed pain and danger, but to you that was normal, pain and danger were regular parts of your life. To him it wasn’t, and he felt the need to make sure you were okay. You were standing strongly so clearly you weren’t too injured, but the idea of you being one of his people made him feel the need to check you over, to help you.

He jumped down from his hiding spot, gracefully landing in front of you, and suddenly you took off. You sprinted away, terrified of the stranger. You wanted to make your way back home, back to your mother palulukan and the den you called home. You wanted to be safe, you wanted to feel safe.

The man lagged for a second, thinking, before deciding to follow you, taking off after you. The chase went on for a while, his lungs burned as he kept up with you, close behind, but he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up, and you didn’t seem to be slowing down.

“Wait, I just want to help!” He shouted after you, but that seemed to spook you more and you sped up.

You had no idea what the strange man had said, but his loud voice scared you. The sounds he was making were foreign to you, and it frightened you. He was communicating in a way you never had before. The way you communicated with your family was hisses and growls.

You were a good runner, had good stamina, but he seemed to be keeping up, although you could tell he was getting tired. The unfortunate part was you were getting tired too, and you would have to stop soon. You figured it would be good to stop sooner than later so you had enough energy to fight in case the need arose.

You saw a clearing to the right and zagged that way before stopping on the far end of it, crouched down like a palulukan, ready to pounce. The man stopped on the other side, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Like this he looked less scary, he looked weak as he was out of breath, like you could win this fight easily.

He looked at you through the braids that had fallen in his face, and his eyes held no malice. He wanted you to feel safe, or as safe as possible, around him, so he showed his weakness as he was out of breath. He wanted you to know he wasn’t going to hurt you as he showed you had easily outran him.

However you still felt threatened.

Your eyes were blown wide, adrenaline coursing through you as your mind ran a mile a minute. Your ears pinned against your head and you let out a wild hiss at the man, bearing your teeth and snapping them together a few times as a threat.

He didn’t challenge you back, instead dropping to the ground to sit with his legs crossed, arms in the air as a sign of surrender, or peace, that he meant no harm. He tried to make himself look harmless, tried to make himself look smaller.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, why wasn’t he challenging you, you asked yourself. You weren’t convinced he meant to harm You couldn’t let your guard down, and your hand flew to your knife at your hip as you snarled at him, trying to elicit a reaction.

He then realized he had his own weapons on him and he lifted his bow over his head from where it rested against him, and threw it to the side. He hesitated as he took his knife out of its holder, but he threw it next to his bow a few feet away.

“They're gone, okay.” He pointed to the weapons where they laid, “I want to help you. I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to explain.

Again you didn’t understand him, ears twitching at the unfamiliar sounds. Now you were more stressed than before. You stayed in place, ears pinned to your head again as you growled, but your hand moved away from your knife.

“There we go.” He spoke as your hand fell to your side, “What's your name?” He asked.

You felt the adrenaline wearing off, exhaustion starting to catch up to you and making you less hostile than before, blurring the lines of your fear. Your eyes were narrowed as your head tilted to the side, a questioning look on your face. You were scared because you couldn’t understand him, but you became more curious the more he spoke.

His voice was interesting, smooth and calming. You hadn’t heard anything like it before, and although you looked similar you weren’t sure if you could make the same sounds as him, accustomed to growls and hisses.

When you didn’t say anything back the man tried something different. He pointed to himself, “Neteyam.” Then he pointed to you, humming, “Hm?”

You growled back, trying to communicate the only way you knew how. He just cringed, taking it as aggressive while you were simply trying to voice your confusion.

He tried again, “Neteyam…” He pointed to himself, not saying anything else afterwards.

“Neteyam.” You whispered, only loud enough for you to hear. Then you cleared your throat, “Neteyam.” You parroted.

“Yes. Neteyam.” He nodded, happy you seemed to be getting somewhere, “You?” He asked, pointing to you.

“Hm?” You hummed, copying the noise he had made to you earlier. You thought it was a questioning sound, and you hoped your assumption was correct.

Something clicked to Neteyam, “You can’t understand me, can you?” He asked, not particularly expecting an answer.

“Hm?” You questioned again.

“Okay…” He took a second to think. Who were you? Where did you come from?

“Neteyam.” You spoke again, getting his attention. You then pointed to yourself and growled, you seemed to be trying to communicate something, and you were. You had growled your name, what your palulukan family called you.

He didn’t quite understand you, “Hm?” He asked.

You just growled again, pointing to yourself. Clearly this wasn’t getting anywhere.

“I’m going to give you a name, or a nickname I guess.” He told you, but you didn’t understand. If you had known what he had said you would have disagreed adamantly, you don’t need a different name, you have one already, but you didn’t understand, so when he pointed to you and said, “(Y/n).” The name sounded beautiful, and you loved the way it rolled off his tongue.

Your head tilted to the side, confusion written on your face, but you didn’t protest. Instead you nodded your head, seeming content, “Neteyam.” You pointed to him, “(Y/n), hm?” You pointed to yourself questioningly.

He smiled, “Yes.”

“Yes.” You copied him, but you weren’t smiling, still confused by the foreign words.

He patted the ground in front of him, inviting you to sit by him, but you don’t approach, instead sitting where you were a few feet away. He seems so calm, so relaxed, as he sits with his legs crossed and arms behind his as he leans on them. You however are stiff, skittish, as you sit on your knees, hands in your lap. You looked ready to take off at any second.

Neteyam tried to calm you down with reassuring words, even though he knew you couldn’t understand him, his calm tone seemed to take off the edge. You were scared of him, but slowly starting to believe he meant no harm. He wasn’t dangerous.

As you sat there with him he went on, and on, talking about whatever came to mind with that smooth tone. You could sit there and listen to him talk forever, but soon the sky is darkening and you realize it is time to head back home, to the comfort of your den, your mother would be waiting for you when you get there. She would be ready to allow you to cuddle up next to her and let go of the stress of today.

You’re not frantic when you stand up, instead more fixed on having a mission, to get home, but Neteyam doesn’t understand that, and so he stands up after you. You don’t pay him any mind until you start walking away and he follows you. Frustrated that he’s trying to follow you, you hold your hand out towards him, hissing.

“No!” You shout, a word you had picked up from Neteyam talking to you.

“Oh.” Neteyam simply comments. You were a quick learner apparently, picking up on the word and figuring out how to use it already.

You turn away and start walking off, and this time he doesn’t follow you, waving towards you and saying, “Goodbye, (Y/n).” He pauses before saying quieter, “I hope I see you again.” Not loud enough for you to hear.

Your mother palulukan was confused that night when you came home without a meal, but when you broke down in tears she moved to comfort you. You let out all of the stress from over the past few hours in tears and sobs, and eventually you stilled, fell asleep on her large warm body, and finally you rested.

You had intended to never see Neteyam again, but you kept running into him. It was frustrating and confusing. You had no idea why it kept happening, but of course you knew Eywa had a plan for everyone, and everything happens for a reason, but you weren’t sure why she was so insistent on putting you and Neteyam together.

The day after your first encounter you had your second meeting. You had been trying to hunt when you somehow ended up back at the clearing. You weren’t sure how you ended up there, but you gave in, sitting with him for a while before continuing your hunt.

The third time, the third day in a row now, you had been napping in a completely different area of the forest when you woke up to Neteyam looking at you curiously. It wasn’t necessarily in a creepy way, but it had spooked you at first before you calmed down. This time you did not stick around, walking off with a dismissive grunt to Neteyam.

The fourth time, a few days later, he had found you while you had been frolicking around in the Hallelujah Mountains. You had been hiding out there, trying to avoid him by not even being in the forest, but he had found you again somehow.

That went on, and on, until you admitted defeat, accepted your fate, Eywa was determined to have you and Neteyam together, and who were you to deny the Great Mother’s will. She knew all, and you trusted her, so you took her lead.

Every time you ran into Neteyam you would spend a little more time with him, and eventually that time built into hours, and then days, from sunrise to sunset you would spend your hours with him. You cherished your time with Neteyam and he certainly enjoyed your company, your attention.

Your palulukan mother was less than pleased with how much time you were spending with the Na’vi boy, but she understood you needed companionship with your own kind. She figured you would grow curious eventually and would venture out in search of people like you, and she was proud of you for making a friend, but she wished you would be home a little more.

When you finally gave into spending time with Neteyam you figured you should learn how to communicate, learn to speak his language. You would much rather teach him yours, but yours was more general emotions and less words, less actual conversation and more communicating how you're feeling through growls and hisses, hunched shoulders and bared teeth.

Today you were sitting by a river, somewhere Neteyam had shown you, as he tried to teach you the Na’vi language.

Neteyam pointed to different features on his face as you named them quietly, touching them on your own face as you went, “Ears. Eyes. Nose. Mouth.”

“Good job!” He praised you, a smile on both of your faces.

You were learning slowly, struggling to pick up a second language so much different from your first, but when you grasped a certain word you had it for good. You had started using the words you knew in basic sentences like “How you?” when you would first see him. You would listen intently as if you knew everything he was saying although you only picked up on certain words.

What really got Neteyam was when you would say goodbye when you parted ways at the end of the day. Instead of saying “Goodbye.” or something similar you would blurt out “Love you!” as you walked away.

It always got Neteyam’s heart beating in his chest, hard, and he couldn’t help but smile every time. He would say, “Goodbye (Y/n). Love you too.” because the one time he hadn’t reciprocated you had pouted and nearly cried.

He didn’t think you understood the significance of those words, of the word love, but you definitely did. You didn’t use it lightly, it being the only word you had learned to describe how you were feeling for Neteyam, and it described your feelings perfectly.

You truly did love him, as a friend, maybe more.

You appreciated what he did for you, but it went so much deeper than that. You loved how he was patient with you, giving you all the time you needed. You loved his voice, how he would talk to you even if you didn’t understand. You loved how he laughed, how he smiled, how his eyes seemed to glow when he was around you.

You love him.

You loved him like you loved the forest, it’s green foliage keeping you safe throughout your life. You loved him like you loved your mother palulukan, like a warm hug at the end of the day. You loved him like you loved the sounds that played all around you constantly, drowning out your negative thoughts.

You love him like home.

As you were mulling over your feelings, thinking whatever came to your mind, you had been zoning out, gone silent as you looked off into the distance. Neteyam took this chance to mess with you a little. He scooped up some water from the stream in his hands and threw it on you, bringing you out of your thoughts as the cool water hit your face.

You gasped, “Neteyam!”

He just laughed, pointing at you as your jaw was dropped, brow muscles raised, and eyes open wide. Your look of offense amused him and your look quickly switched to a scowl, and Neteyam felt himself still, that was never a good look on you.

You moved quickly, smiling mischievously splashing water onto him too. He looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected this from you, and you used that to your advantage, splashing him again, harder this time, with more water.

This time he was quick to move, trying to grab you and throw you into the deeper part of the river, but your reflexes were faster than him and you got up, running away like a mad woman. You smiled before jumping into the river, submerging your lower body before he could do it for you.

You thought hard, trying to form a coherent sentence, when you thought you had it you shouted, “Come get me!” Taunting him.

As you taunted him he just smiled, a sense of childish joy overcoming him. It reminded him of when he was younger. When he and his siblings would play in streams closer to home. When his father would play with them. It reminded him of family, you were quickly becoming family, but in a deeper way.

He loved you like family, he loved you like a calm afternoon at home with everyone sitting around, talking and playing games. He loved you like a partner, someone to share his own home with, where his family could come over for dinner and share stories. He loved you like someone new to the family, like someone his family could learn to love.

He loves you.

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam asked, smirking at you. He stayed where we was on the river bank, feet barely in the water.

“Yeah!” You shouted, challenging him by splashing the water around you.

He seemed to be contemplating it, over exaggerating his movements dramatically, “I don’t know… I might just stay here…” He joked.

You frowned, not understanding his joking tone of voice, “Fine…” You turned away from him, getting ready to leave the river.

However you didn’t get the chance when you heard splashing behind you, and it was too late. He ran up to you splashing you, getting your entire back wet, including your hair.

You whipped around, gasping both at the cold water and the shock of not expecting it. You shouted at him, arms crossed over your chest, “Rude!”

Neteyam laughs loudly, “Oh I’m rude? You’re the one who told me to come get you.” He defended himself, rolling his eyes.

“You…” You thought of what word to use, not sure what the word for this action was, you settled on, “hit me first!”

Neteyam was quick to correct you, “Splash, the word is splash.” He really did not want you telling people he was hitting you if you ever met his clan. He hoped it was less of an if, and more of a when.

You took in the information, “You splash me first.” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling you won the conversation.

“And I’ll do it again!” Neteyam laughed, running at you, ready to throw more water in your face, but you turned to run away from his attack.

As you were running you slipped, falling to your knees and feeling pain shoot through one of them, “Ow.” You hissed out.

Neteyam was quick to rush to your side, helping you up and walking you to the edge of the river where you sat down. You inspected the cut, it wasn’t much and you would be okay in a day or so, “I am okay.” You tried to assure Neteyam.

Neteyam frowned, “I’m sorry. Let me fix you up?” He asked.

You knew if you said no he would practically beg you to let him help you, so you gave in, “Okay.”

Neteyam sat down, pulling your leg over his lap so he had better access to your knee. He inspected the small wound, thinking about what Kiri had told him would be best for it.

He was quick to pull out the little pouch of healing equipment he had, herbs and plants, pastes and drinks, he was equipped for anything. He had decided to carry anything he would need to treat your small cuts and scrapes because every time you would see him you would have more and more. They never seemed to stop coming, so he promised he would do his best to help you.

He pulled out a paste you recognized, and before he could speak you mocked him, attempting to copy his voice, “This one will sting.” You fell into a fit of giggles afterwards.

He just chuckled at you, “You’re right.” You seemed to always be right, you picked up on other things, besides learning the Na’vi language, easily.

You smiled, sighing happily, “I know.”

Neteyam hums, smiling at you , “Tell me, how have you been? What have you done today?” He tried to distract you while he put the paste on.

It worked as you quickly responded, “It has been great. I have gotten to see you…” You trailed off, smiling shyly, before continuing, “This morning I went on a hunt, took food home to my mom. My siblings are moving out finally, so it is just us now. Less mouths to feed.”

“Good… Neteyam answered simply, focusing on what he was doing as he wrapped a bandage around your knee.

“Thank you.” You pulled his face up to look at you, a small smile was on your face, lips gently curved, eyes softened to liquid gold, “For everything.”

He sighed, content, as his face melted into your hand, pressing your skin to his, “It’s really no big deal. I would do anything for you. I would get you anything you need, anything you want.” He admitted softly, quietly.

You smiled, leaning in and pressing your forehead to his, “I know, and Eywa do I love it. I love you.”

He smiles back, the happiness reaching his eyes, and if you listen close enough you can hear his heart thumping in his chest, ready to pop out, “I love you too, (Y/n). I see you, and I will show you that every day.

Every time he tends to your wounds he is so careful, he is so careful with you. He is careful in a way the forest has never been, in a way it never will be in the future. The forest gives you safety in the form of protection through the hard and marred skin you have covering your body. The forest shows you its love through injuries you’ve sustained from your years of survival, it gives you love by allowing you to survive.

Now you don’t need the love of the forest, you need the love of him. He feels like scars, and bruises, and cuts, and pain. He feels like safety. Like how you once had found safety and solace in the cuts and bruises you bared, how your unkempt hair and scars felt like your home, to you he feels like home.

Word Bank:

Great Mother (Eywa)

Palulukan (Thanator)

Syaksyuk (Prolemuris)

Yerik (Hexaped)

Nantang (Viperwolf)

Ikran (Mountain Banshee)

Omaticaya (Forest Na’vi)

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Eywa (Na’vi goddess)

#fanfic #fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #atwow #atwow fanfiction #avatar movie #atwow fics #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem!reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam suli x reader

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andromeda-nova-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Unpacking in the Infirmary

Fem!Reader

Summary: Restock day in the Infirmary has always been important for those who live in the Fortress. Especially with it being that place to go if something were to happen to an inmate or one of the staff members. With the amount of times Wriothesley has gotten hurt over the years, it's not surprising he ended up in there on one of those restock days. Though he didn't think he would also help with unpacking things as well.

Words: 3,039

AN: Once again I wrote a majority of this on my phone. I honestly can't believe how much I've written on my phone this year already. Hopefully, this doesn't become a major habit. Thank you @milkstore for reading over the fic. You caught so many mistakes due to my phone thinking capitalizing mid-sentence is a normal thing to do.

Warnings: Blood, Minor Injuries, Cleaning a wound. I personally wouldn't consider it too detailed but if you find any of that uncomfortable please go check out one of my other Wriothesley fics.

“You two should go take your lunch break already. I ate a late breakfast.” Y/N lifted a box of supplies from the surface and placed it on the table. Restock days had become important for her to be there for. It was easier to have someone who was not a Melusine to do any heavy lifting.

“You look tired. Are you sure you don't want to take a break now?” Sigewinne asked. Although her ask was more of telling her to take a break.

“I'll take a break when you or Ottnit get back. I promise.” She reassured Sigewinne. “Plus if we time breaks right we can get this done fast.”

Ottnit looked at Y/N before looking at Sigewinne. “She has a date.” She guessed.

Y/N rolled her eyes hiding a small smile. “Three days from now.” She answered before giving the real reason. “I promised I'd help my mother move her art studio into her new house after work.”

“It's more reason to take a break. You could have requested someone to take your place today.” Sigewinne reasoned.

“I know but I wouldn't have been able to give you those stickers for another week. It's been pretty peaceful down here lately. Let me have work as an excuse to see you two.” Y/N looked back to the box and grabbed a boxcutter to rid it of tape. “Just go enjoy lunch. You're just delaying how long till I take a break.”

Sigewinne accepted fate not wanting to argue it creating more of the delay. She and Ottnit left the infirmary for lunch. The room was left quiet while Y/N took inventory on the restock.

All the things that needed to be under a lock had been put away already. Next would be anything they kept out in the infirmary that should be easy to grab. Lastly, restocking the various first aid kits that were around the Fortress. Any mobile ones had been brought in already in the morning. The large stationary ones would be the last thing for today or one of the first things in the morning.

It was mindless work to her at this point. Open the box, check the inventory slip in the box, count to see if the amount matches, and mark off on the checkbox of what was requested if it matches. And if it didn’t, make a note. It was always easy to fall into the rhythm of this work.

Though a bit annoying that the monthly restock day had to line up with her mother's art studio move. There really wasn’t much she could do about it since she wanted to be there for both. Say she did request someone else to go down to the fortress instead of her. Y/N could imagine her coworkers on the surface asking if something was wrong with her and Wriothesley’s relationship. And as funny as it was to watch some of the older ladies try and make threats about if he dared hurt her, there really was no reason to rile them up with nothing.

Y/N finished up the box she had been working with. It was just bandages of different sizes. Luckily everything was all in there. She picked the box back up off the table and placed it within the pile of boxes that had already been checked. She picked up a new box, beginning to repeat the process all over again.

She lost count on the box filled with sterilized gloves when she heard the all-so-familiar knock at the wall. It was a firm but gentle knock that echoed throughout the infirmary.

“Hey.” Wriothesley introduced himself as he made his way down into the room. “By any chance is the hydrogen peroxide already out?”

“The current bottle doesn't have a lot in it but it is out. What happened?” Y/N turned away from the box and moved to get out what he asked for along with some cotton balls and bandages, opting for what was already out in the infirmary.

“There was a fight that broke out and I went to break it up. One guy was upset I was breaking up the fight, so he tried taking a knife out on me. I broke a knife. Now the guards got an eye on the two of them.” Wriothesley explained. He was peeling off the blood-soaked wraps that were around his right hand.

Y/N blinked. “You can't say you broke a knife so casually.” It was moments like that where she knew she still wasn't fully used to his behavior. It didn't matter how long she had known him before they began dating, it wasn't normal to hear anyone say they broke a knife in a fight. She moved into washing her hands.

“No, ‘Are you okay’?” He threw the wraps away in a bin that was meant for Anything that came in contact with any sort of bodily fluids. Also known as the bloody cotton and bandages bin to most of the Fortress. All because they were however many miles under the ocean didn't mean they got to skip important procedures to help keep things safe.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry.” She spoke sarcastically as she dried off her hands. “Your Grace, does your wound cause you great pain? Whatever will I do now that you are gravely injured?”

“Gravely! Shit. It's just some cuts on my palm. Where did you get ‘gravely’ from? It won't kill me.”

“Oh, so you can handle it yourself.” She teased as she pulled gloves on getting ready so she could examine the wound.

“Some nurse you are. I thought going to the infirmary was supposed to be welcoming.”

“That's what you get for asking a pharmacist to be a nurse. I'm nowhere near as welcoming.” She joked. “Go sit on the bed.” She moved fast grabbing a clean pair of tweezers.

“Already sitting down Miss.” He spoke in a smug tone she was all too familiar with.

“If you can recognize that you should already be sitting down I would hope you should recognize that you should be more careful.” She turned around and moved towards Wriothesley. Y/N grabbed his wounded hand. She began picking out any small shards of the knife that had gotten stuck within. Luckily not too many. None were deep within the palm as well.

“I can only try to be more careful so much. If you think about it, I helped you not have to deal with an inmate who had a stab wound on restock day. While everyone but you is out for lunch.” Wriothesley reasoned. He looked at the wound already wondering if the count of scars on his body was about to go up.

“I'll give you that.” Y/N finished up with the first part of cleaning up the wound. She had thrown any remnants of the knife in the trash. “You know you are very lucky that Sigewinne wasn’t here to fuss over you. If I had to listen to her ‘I helped raise you, the least you could do is be careful’ lectures while trying to count and move things around, I might go insane.”

Wriothesley rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Yeah.” He drew out the word with a bit of tiredness. “I guess I should thank you for not telling her.”

“Shit.” It was half a response from the hydrogen peroxide touching the new wound and half from what Y/N had said. He thought he was more used to the sting of his wounds being cleaned by now. “Can’t you just let this slide?”

Y/N raised her eyebrow as she began to dab the hydrogen peroxide onto some cotton balls. “I never said I wasn't going to tell her. If I remember right, which I know I'm remembering right, I still have to write this up in your medical file. No exception for staff. Even if you are the Warden, she’s going to find out regardless.”

“You created more work for me on restock day and think I’m gonna let this slide. After I’m done with this I get to go move a whole art studio.”

“Don’t I get special privileges?”

“Everyone with a title is gonna get the same treatment from me. You forget that?” The blood had been cleaned off his hand. And with the wound clean she could begin focusing on wrapping up the wound on his palm.

“I was going for boyfriend privileges.” Wriothesley continued to try and wiggle his way out of Sigewinne learning what happened.

“I am on the clock and not on break so no special treatment. You lost special treatment the moment you walked into the infirmary. If it's serious enough to seek medical care, it's serious enough to be written in your medical file.”

“Usually I'm very glad that you take your job seriously.”

“Cause it's my job and it would be inappropriate to change procedures just because the patient is you.” Y/N finished wrapping up his palm leaving him plenty of room to move his hand around but keeping the bandages tight enough to stay on throughout the day. “Change the bandages 3 hours from now. You can either do it yourself or have Sigewinne do it for you.”

Wriothesley moved his fingers around testing how much movement he would have. “Thanks, doll. You sure I can't get you to change it instead?”

“I just said I have to go move an art studio later.” She began putting away anything unused that was okay to keep before throwing everything else out. “Or were you not paying attention to what I was saying?”

“I was. You know I could go and help you if you want.” Wriothesley offered.

Y/N looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Art Studio. As in my mother's art studio.”

“Yeah. You managed to get a photo out of me and you've been saying that your mother wants to meet me. Every time you’ve tried to set up, something has always come up and if I go with you, then you won’t have to worry if I’m using my right hand or not.” He reasoned. It may have also been a bit of quick thinking to avoid disappointing Sigewinne over that he got hurt again. Two birds with one stone kind of thinking.

“But I was thinking like a dinner so we could all get to talk.” She threw out her gloves before moving to sit on the bed on Wriothesley’s left side. “How are we supposed to talk if we are just packing and moving boxes Ri?”

“I could help, go pick up some food for everyone so you don’t have to sit at a restaurant.” He put his arm around Y/N pulling her closer and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Plus it’s my non-dominant hand that’s hurt so I can still help you.”

“I’ll just have to take you two out to eat after.” He offered.

“I’m already going to be tired after this and I’m just going to be exhausted after helping her move. I’m not going to want to sit down somewhere for dinner.” Y/N argued.

“What if I’m so tired I don’t even want to talk while we eat?”

“I’ll just carry you to your apartment afterward if you are so tired. Quit worrying your pretty little head over it. You need the brain power for more important things.”

It was a well-needed reminder for her. Sometimes it was just too easy to get caught up in worry. “You must really like me a lot if you are willing to carry me like a sack of potatoes.”

Wriothesley laughed. “I was thinking more like a piggyback ride but if you want to be carried like a sack of potatoes, I can. We really should talk about how you not so secretly want me to manhandle you.” He teased.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I have work.”

“I’ll get you after your shift then. We can go up together.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips before standing up from the bed. “You can't go on about how much you want your mother to like me and when the perfect opportunity for a good impression comes up, try and stop me from meeting her.”

“But what if it ends up not being perfect?” She looked up at him. “I really care about you. I want my mother to like you. I want my family to like you.”

“Which is why I’m offering to help with a move. Even then if you keep planning for perfection, nothing will get done. You know that.”

“I know not everything can be perfect. I’ve made my peace with that. But I want this to be perfect.” She stood up looking at him. “I want something good for you outside of here as well.”

“Don’t worry about things like that. Life is good for me now.” He sighed. “It’s not like anything is forcing me to be here all the time. I know there’s good outside. What's bothering you?”

She sighed. “You remember when I said I was volunteering as the person to come down here to help was just to try something new right?” Y/N started as she began to give the real reason.

“Yeah. It's kind of what we encourage here.”

“Well, I got out of a really bad breakup. And my family was just telling me that person wasn't good.”

“You never told me how bad.” He did remember a mention that she got out of a relationship around two and a half years ago when they first met. She never said much about it and who was he to press her about it back then?

“I was engaged. I almost signed a lease on a new house with them when everything went down. I just feel like I got blindsided by the show they were putting on. If I listened to my family then everything would have been better for me.” She took a deep breath. “So if they like you, nothing like that will happen to me again.”

“And here I was thinking you were just worrying to worry.” Wriothesley shook his head at himself. “Look, I can't control how people are going to view me. And you can't control if your mother will like me or not.”

“I know that. I just want this to be good. I mean I wanted her to like you even before we started dating. You kind of started to become important in my life.” Y/N looked away from him. “Like I think even after I got that breakup, you were definitely part of the reason I stayed.”

“It's going to be okay. It may not be some storybook picture of perfection but it's going to be better if you try and focus on the good.” He placed his left hand on her shoulder trying to ground her back to reality. “What did you say a few weeks ago? I think you said she would steal a single mora to get thrown in here if she didn't get the chance to meet me at this rate.”

Y/N laughed. “Yeah. I had to tell her that's a horrible idea.”

“It's going to be okay.”

She nodded as she spoke. “Okay.” She looked into his eyes falling into the comforting gaze that looked back at her.

“I'll get you after your shift. I still have to fill out paperwork cause of that fight.” Wriothesley kissed her forehead. “I know it's easier said than done, but try not to overthink it.”

“And if I do?”

“Then we will have to find a way to stop you from thinking about that specifically.”

“It better not be by giving me work. Cause I'm going to be so tired tonight.” She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not cruel. I was thinking of making sure you aren’t alone so you don't fall back into your worries. At least so someone can pull you back out if you do.”

“Well, Sigewinne and Ottnit should be back soon. So I won’t be alone for too long.”

“You ate lunch already?” Wriothesley asked.

Y/N looked away again. “I ate a late breakfast so I was going to eat lunch once they got back.”

“In here?” He asked concerned. “What happened to only eating in here when there is only one person available?”

“I was actually going to go out to the cafeteria. I didn't bring anything down for lunch today.” It was a break from her normal habit, mostly because she forgot to grab her lunch before leaving her apartment in the city. The sandwich that she made that now sat in her kitchen would be dearly missed.

Wriothesley sighed. “Guess I'll have to take the important job of keeping you company during lunch.”

“Don't you also have work?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“For one, I’m in charge of this place. And two, I still have to eat lunch myself. Also, I think the Fortress can handle itself while I take care of you. I think people know well enough to only disturb me when I'm with you if it's important.” It was something that he noticed was happening long before the two of them got together. It was already common for people would keep their distance due to their various reasons. It must have been learned to give the two space after people had noticed that Wriothesley’s mood would sour when he had to leave for something that didn’t even require his attention.

“Makes me wonder what your definition of important is now.”

“At the moment, it's keeping you out of your worry spiral. Generally a mix of other things, but the only thing taking me away from you is if something requires my attention to be handled. You are at the top of the list at the moment.” Oh, she just wanted to be in his arms after that.

“The top of the list?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Are these girlfriend privileges?”

Wriothesley laughed remembering what he said not so long ago. “You can call it that if you want. I would have done this for you regardless though.”

Y/N gave in, finally hugging him. Maybe things would be okay.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

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arc852 · 8 months ago

Text

3. Plush

Definition: something soft or luxurious

Summary: It's been weeks since Jimmy has gotten any sleep and it's really starting to affect him. Grian and Joel notice and try to help.

Warnings: Sleep Deprivation

G/t: Grian and Joel are humans, Jimmy is a borrower

Word Count: 2670

AO3 Link

This is another fic within the Bad Boys Borrower College AU! Or BBBCAU for short, I guess lol.

Also, I realized some of you guys might not know what borrowers are. So here is a quick explanation.

A borrower is a tiny person who is only a few inches tall. They are human in appearance other than their size and their whole thing is living in walls and 'borrowing' things from humans to help them survive, all without being caught. They were created by Mary Norton back in 1952 in the form of a book series! Since then there have been several movie adaptations, including a Studio Ghibli film called The Secret World of Arrietty!

Hopefully that helped! And I hope you enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

Jimmy had not been getting a lot of sleep lately.

It used to come to him so easily too, he used to be able to just lay down, close his eyes, and the next thing he knew, it would be morning. He didn’t know how much of a good thing he had until it was gone because nowadays it felt like he wasn’t getting any sleep at all.

Jimmy glanced over at the time, from an old watch he managed to borrow, and groaned as he realized what time it was. So much for his nap. With a heavy sigh, he got out of bed, something small he had put together with some borrowed tissues and a (clean) sock. He stretched and rubbed at his eyes to try and stop the stinging.

He was on autopilot as he grabbed his bag and hook and got all of his other things together. He was barely aware as he left his little nook and walked along the inner walls. Time seemed to jump forward as Jimmy blinked back into consciousness, looking around and realizing he had somehow made it all the way to Grian and Joel’s room already.

Well that wasn’t the least bit concerning.

Shaking his head, Jimmy scouted out his surroundings. Grian and Joel still weren’t back yet, so the coast was clear. He came out from underneath the desk and headed over toward Joel’s nightstand. With how the room was set up, Joel’s nightstand was more in the center of the room, with Joel’s bed facing vertically from where the door was. Grian’s was on the opposite wall but facing horizontally from the door, so his nightstand was more off to the side.

All this to say, Jimmy had made it a habit to go to Joel’s nightstand whenever he visited. It was just the easier one to get to and see the whole room from. Once he made it to the nightstand, he unfurled his hook, doing his best to concentrate on not getting it tangled. He hard blinked a few times to keep himself focused and then pulled back and swung the hook upwards.

The hook missed by a short distance and fell back to the floor in front of Jimmy. He winced and gathered it up to try again. He narrowed his eyes and let it go once more. This time, the hook caught the side of the nightstand. Jimmy tested the rope strength briefly before climbing up.

He pulled himself up and onto the table and then turned back around to wind his hook and rope back up. Once that was done, he shoved it back into his bag and sat down to wait for Grian and Joel to get back.

He sat back against the lamp because he wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep himself upright otherwise. He was so tired and yet sleep still eluded him. How was that fair? Maybe if he continued to not sleep he would simply pass out eventually. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t sound appealing. Even just a little bit.

His eyes drifted close…but then he opened them a moment later when the door to the room opened up. His eyes were a bit blurry but he could see who was clearly Grian and Joel enter the room and close the door behind them.

“--And then he just up and left.” Joel said as he came in, Jimmy missing whatever it was he had said to start with. They seemed to be in the middle of talking and Jimmy didn’t want to interrupt them, so he stayed quiet and waited for a chance to chime in. For now, he watched as Joel swung his backpack off his shoulder and haphazardly tossed it onto the floor by the foot of his bed.

“Well that doesn’t sound like him at all.” Grian said back with a hum. He went over to his desk and placed his bag on top of it, opening it up and shifting through it, taking out some books and papers and putting them on the desk as well. “Did Tango say anything else?”

Joel shrugged, leaning against his desk to look at Grian. “Just that he came back a few hours later and pretended nothing had happened.”

“Weird.” Grian simply replied with.

Honestly, Jimmy had barely been listening to their actual words. He had already forgotten what the conversation had entailed, at least what little of it he had heard. Hearing them speak was familiar and nice and it just made his eyes feel even more heavy.

Jimmy was startled out of his sleepiness as Joel’s voice cut through. “Jimmy? When did you get here?” Joel said with a hint of surprise in his voice. Jimmy blinked and looked up to see Joel had come closer to where Jimmy was sitting, looming over him and looking down with raised eyebrows.

It took Jimmy a moment to answer. “Oh, um…not too long I don’t think.” Jimmy answered, realizing he was unsure. It didn’t feel like too long but time was acting really funny right now.

“Well next time say something.” Joel said with a slight frown.

“Yeah, we would prefer to know where you are at all times.” Grian had chimed in, coming over to get a better look at where Jimmy was. “For obvious reasons.”

Jimmy winced, realizing staying quiet had been a bad idea. He just hadn’t wanted to interrupt them, that’s all. And he was too tired to make an effort to get them to see him. It was fine, he had made sure he was in a good and safe spot before they had gotten there.

Despite these thoughts though, he simply nodded. Though as he nodded he let his head hang low for longer than he should have. He blinked his eyes open, not realizing he had closed them and righted his head to look back up at the two humans. They suddenly looked concerned.

“Is something wrong Tim?” Grian asked, eyes scanning over his body.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Jimmy said, trying his best to not sound as tired as he felt. He didn’t want them to worry. This was his problem to deal with. The humans had their own problems and they didn’t need to be worrying about Jimmy on top of them.

Unfortunately, his words were met with skepticism. Joel, being closer, squatted down in order to get a good look at Jimmy. Jimmy tried to turn his head away, to hide how he must look with no sleep, but a finger suddenly filled his vision and gently guided his head back forward. The finger stayed there as Joel looked at him and so Jimmy saw when his face fell.

“Jimmy, what happened?” Joel asked, and as he did so a thumb entered his vision and ran under his eyes. Once again, the touch was featherlight and gentle but Jimmy still flinched back a little from the touch. Joel noticed and took his thumb back but the finger touching the right side of his face remained. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, your hair is a mess, and…well, honestly you just look plain awful.”

Jimmy glared at him though he knew it wasn’t intended to be an insult. The amount of worry in Joel’s voice at least told him that much. He hadn’t seen himself in a mirror in a while, but he was sure Joel was telling the truth about how he must look.

He wasn’t going to be able to hide it from them now. So he might as well tell them. Jimmy sighed. “I…I just haven’t been getting enough sleep. That’s all.”

Grian and Joel exchanged looks. “How long has it been?” Grian asked after a moment.

Jimmy thought back but honestly couldn’t remember when this had started. He shrugged. “It’s…been a while now, I think.” He forced his brain to work. “Maybe…um…” Jimmy trailed off. The answer had come to him but he was thinking maybe he shouldn’t say anything. But the constant worried looks from his two friends made him realize he needed to. “Maybe shortly after meeting you guys? So…two or three weeks? Something like that.”

Joel blinked in shock. “Are you saying you haven’t really been sleeping for three weeks.” Joel looked at Jimmy with wide eyes and then moved to look at Grian. Grian’s eyes were narrowed in thought and worry.

“Is it…our fault?” Grian asked a bit hesitantly. Joel froze and then finally took his hand back from where he had been touching Jimmy.

Jimmy missed the contact as soon as it left but turned to Grian to focus on what he had said. His eyes widened when it finally registered. “What? No! It’s-it’s not your guys fault!” Jimmy said, standing up a little too fast and feeling a little dizzy. He recovered quickly though. “Do you really think I would keep coming back here if I was so distraught about being found by you guys that I couldn’t sleep properly?” Jimmy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grian and Joel looked at each other, each with a slight wince and Jimmy frowned. “The answer is no, by the way.” Jimmy said, not letting them answer after seeing that.

Joel looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his lip and Grian shook his head with a small sigh to himself. “Okay, then if that’s not it, what else could it be?” Grian said, and Jimmy was thankful for Grian moving right along. Though Jimmy made a mental note to talk to them about that reaction later on. Once he had enough brain to actually figure out what it meant.

“I really don’t know…” Jimmy answered with a sigh. “My bed back at home just hasn’t been feeling as comfortable as before, I guess. And, I don’t know, it’s almost…too dark? In the walls now. Which has never been a problem before but…” The more he spoke, the more he was realizing, but he was still confused on why he was feeling differently about these things.

“That’s weird.” Joel said, also trying to think why that would be.

Grian, on the other hand, connected the dots and already had a pretty good idea why Jimmy wasn’t able to sleep. Instead of saying anything, however, he decided to try something first. “How about we help you try and get some sleep? We humans have some remedies that might just work for you.”

Jimmy blinked, not having heard of this before. “Remedies?”

Grian nodded. “Yep. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to try. Right?”

Jimmy supposed that was true. The worst that would probably happen is that it just didn’t work. And the best is that he could finally get some sleep. “Okay. I’m willing to try.”

Grian smirked, his plan now in action. “Great! Then the first one we can try is drinking warm milk.” He turned to Joel. “You mind going to get us some?”

Joel blinked. “Wait, why do I have to do it?”

Grian shrugged, trying his best to appear nonchalant. “Cause I have some other stuff I can help Jimmy try while you go grab it.”

Joel glared at him but sighed. “Fine. I’ll be back, I guess.” Joel grabbed his keys from the desk and then left the room, heading for the dorm’s kitchen area. Grian then turned back to Jimmy, ready for the last part of his plan now that Joel was gone.

“Okay, while he’s doing that, let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.” Grian came closer and scooped Jimmy up, careful of how he was doing so. Jimmy let out a little noise of surprise but otherwise barely reacted. Already Grian could see Jimmy snuggling into the warmth of his hand, which was already proving the theory he had worked out.

Grian sat on Joel’s bed and set Jimmy down in the middle, up enough so he could still use some of the pillow. He then pulled up the blanket and laid it across the borrower, careful to not cover his head.

Jimmy snuggled into the plush mattress. He had been in these beds only a handful of times so far but everytime it was like heaven. Jimmy imagined this was what a cloud must feel like but with the addition of being oh so warm. The feeling was already making Jimmy’s eyes droop.

Grian smirked. “Comfy?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah…” he trailed off into a sigh, snuggling his head further into the pillow.

Grian hummed as he watched Jimmy’s eyes fully close and his chest became a steady up and down. Grian grinned, patting himself on the back for figuring it out and getting Jimmy to finally fall asleep.

It was at that moment that Joel came back, a glass of warm milk in his hand. “Alright, I got it.”

“Shh!” Grian shushed him and Joel froze. Grian gently pushed himself off the bed, careful to not disturb Jimmy and walked over to Joel. “Jimmy’s asleep.” He whispered. And Joel frowned.

“What was the point in me going to get the milk then?” Joel asked in a whisper, a bit annoyed at the unnecessary journey. Grian smirked, pointing over to Joel’s bed. Joel blinked and put the glass of milk down before walking over. Sure enough, Jimmy was there in the center, sound asleep.

“Seriously? You made me leave so you could put Jimmy in my bed?” Joel asked, still keeping his voice low. Grian nodded and Joel huffed. “You could have at least left me some room here.” Joel motioned to the bed and the fact that Jimmy was right in the middle.

Grian shrugged. “You could move him but then you’d risk waking him up.”

Joel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Yeah, no. I’m not going to do that to him. He clearly needs the sleep.” Joel looked at Jimmy for a long moment, mesmerized by how peaceful the borrower looked. “How did you get him to fall asleep anyway?” Joel hadn’t even been gone that long.

“I figured out what was keeping him from sleeping in the first place.” Grian said, looking over at Jimmy. “I think…it is sort of our fault he hasn’t been able to sleep lately.”

Joel blinked. “But, he said--”

Grian cut him off. “I know but not in that way. I think we’ve been…well, spoiling him.”

“Spoiling him.” Joel repeated, confused. “How so?”

“Think about what he said before. His bed is no longer comfortable, he thinks his home is too dark, etcetera, etcetera.” Grian said, waving his hand along. “That’s technically our fault. He’s been out here, he’s been in our beds before, he’s used to how light our room is…” Grian explained, trailing off as Joel started to get what Grian was saying. “He couldn’t sleep because we gave him the chance to actually feel comfortable and now his old set up isn’t the same anymore.”

“Oh.” Joel said, taking it all in. “Wow, that’s…” He looked over to Jimmy, still sleeping peacefully.

“I know.” Grian said, despite Joel not finishing his sentence. “We should talk to him about it once he wakes up. Maybe…instead of going back to the walls he can stay with us.”

Joel nodded. “Yeah, no, that sounds good to me.” Joel paused for a moment. “You think he’ll say yes?

Grian nodded. “I think so. If we explain to him what happened and why he hasn’t been sleeping. I think he’ll be willing.” Grian shrugged and sat on his bed. “Besides, it’s a win win. Jimmy gets more sleep and you and I get to see him more.”

Joel nodded, he did want to see Jimmy more especially if it meant it was also benefiting Jimmy as well. “Alright then, we’ll talk to him when he wakes up.” Now that that was settled, he went back to glaring at Grian. “Now onto the topic of where I’m going to sleep tonight.”

Grian smirked.

Joel ended up sleeping on the floor that night.

#g/t #giant/tiny #borrowers #mcyt g/t #hermitcraft #au #hermitcraft g/t #hermitfic #borrower!jimmy #bad boys borrower college au #day 3 #gtjuly2024 #sleep deprivation

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amalgamateofficial · 5 months ago

Text

A Quick(?) Update

Hey, everyone. I never know what to say, and then because of that, day after day passes in silence. I guess I just want to say that yes, I’m still working on chapter 21 of Amalgamate, and also that I’m sorry for the absolutely ridiculous amount of time that’s passed between chapters. I know I’ve been “absent” a lot online, too. Rarely commenting on fics, taking days to respond to DMs, hardly livestreaming…

I’m sure it’s a no-brainer that the kind of person who writes a story like Amalgamate isn’t exactly a “well” person. Those who follow me on social media for my cosplay and art content see such a small, curated snapshot of reality. The smile doesn’t exist until I hit record, and it ends when the video stops. So every day, my followers see videos of me at my “best,” but I film as much as possible on a single day because the next “good” day could be weeks away. Sometimes I worry that the next good day isn’t going to come at all.

The most frustrating thing about it is that I’m well aware of the cycle. Every year, starting in August, the darkness starts to creep in. By September, it takes hold. By the end of October, it’s inescapable. November passes, then December. Last year, December almost ended in the worst way possible, but as cheesy as it sounds, Amalgamate convinced me to turn it around. I thought, “What kind of example am I setting here? How can I let people down like this?”

So this year, I tried to prepare for the inevitable… and failed. I thought if I could post chapter 21 before the end of August, I could just curl up alone and wait for 2024 to be over. But then everything went to hell and I missed my goal, and when the darkness started to creep in at the edges, I tried to make another goal, and then another, but every single time, I was dragged right back down.

Then a mini cycle started to form within the larger cycle. Every day that goes by in which I don’t post chapter 21, I think the chapter needs to be even better to make up for how long I’ve kept everyone waiting. Then the pressure overwhelms me, and the terrible thoughts creep in, and then the guilt sets in, and then I’m curled up in the corner again with nothing accomplished. DMs are left to fester. Fics I want to read collect dust. I drift away, and I let everyone else drift away, and I sit and stare and wish things could be different.

I suppose it’s not all doom and gloom though. I tried really hard to work on myself this past month, and I was actually successful in a few ways. I tried to clean myself up, and in some ways, I did a lot better than expected. I’m hoping that means I can turn things around again. I want to finish chapter 21, catch up on all the fics I want to read, start drawing regularly, and be an active participant online instead of just tossing out content in a desperate attempt to keep up appearances.

But it’s such an uphill battle. I feel worse now than I did last year, so I’m trying really hard to cling to that self-awareness and prevent things from going the way they did in 2023. But I know that’s not realistic. Everything in life is worse than before, and I see no evidence that it will improve anytime soon. So that means it’s on me to simply power through it and do the best I can.

So, for the sake of my own sanity, chapter 21 will get finished as soon as possible. I don’t know how much longer I can survive with this awful feeling, and that feeling will go away once the next chapter’s posted. In the meantime, I’ll try not to miss the mark with all my other goals. No matter what, I’m going to finish my Halloween cosplay special for 2024. Last year, I had some funds to help me. This year I don’t because I dropped out of most of my conventions, made a lot less art, and overall just kinda gave up on everything.

But it’s not too late. I’ll dive into as many dumpsters as I have to in order to make a Halloween cosplay that will hopefully be as good as Mangle. This year, I’m gonna be cosplaying Spamton NEO – which is probably cheating since I’m already a failed content creator past their prime who has no choice but to wear clown makeup and wave their arms at anyone who happens to scroll by.

I never know what to say, so I guess all I can really say is that I’m trying my absolute best. I know my best is often really disappointing, but it really is the best I can manage sometimes. Even when I’m distant, just know that it doesn’t mean I love you all less, or appreciate you all less, or feel any less gratitude. It just means I’m in the dark, and I’m trying to crawl my way back. Which is very tiring. And overwhelming. But I never stop trying. In part because you all mean so much to me. Last year would’ve ended differently if that wasn’t the case.

Anyway, I don’t know what else to say other than thank you all for your continued support. I’ll try to make it all up to you and then some. Maybe this year I can end things on a high note for once. I’ll certainly give it my best shot.

Uuuh… I guess if you do want to see me at my best, though, you can always follow me on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. That’s the best version of me in between Amalgamate chapters, and I recently shared a ton of Danganronpa cosplay videos because of Dragon Con. I have a Patreon now too, and even though it’s a ghost town, I’m still posting as much content there as possible. I’ll keep dancing until the stage lights are forcibly shut down. I think that's the best way to guarantee that I can turn this ship around.

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throneofsapphics · 2 years ago

Note

Hey hey, as someone who also speaks fluent angst, I was hoping to make a request?

Reader is injured and tries to hide how bad it is?

Could work for any character soo you choose! I do love your poly fics though 🥺🥺🥺

THANK YOU!!

knocking on death's door

poly!Manorian x Reader

Summary: You knew you weren’t dying, but by the looks of it everyone else seemed to think so.

Warnings: major injury, descriptions injuries/mention of blood, angst-ish

Word Count: ~1.7k

A/N: ah thank you! I love this request, thank you for sending it! honestly I love writing poly fics. also anyone if you hit your head please go to a doctor

You took a small tumble down the stairs. You’d been injured worse before, but knew you likely had a concussion and would have some intense bruises on your back and legs. You could already feel the giant one blooming on your upper thigh, and felt the ache in your lower back. But, a good salve and a discreet healer could fix a majority of problems.

The only problem that might come your way is Manon and Dorian. Both of them have the tendency to be fussy. The last thing you wanted was to be on bedrest for a week.

You crept down towards the healing rooms, taking a few servants' passageways, and peering through the door. Just your luck, the only healer you trust not to report to them, a close friend of yours, wasn’t present, and you decided to go back tomorrow - right after they left.

Manon and Dorian weren’t in your shared rooms and wouldn’t be back until later. They had a plethora of negotiations and meetings today and the next few days. A part of you did feel guilty hiding this from them, but they already had a lot going on - you didn’t want to add any extra stressors.

You slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower, washing off the blood from a few cuts, and snatching some of the salve and a pain tonic you kept in stock. With that, hopefully the bruises will fade in a few hours, and the headache should disappear. The small scrape on your palm … that you’ll just have to wait out, but it’s easily explainable. They know you can be clumsy sometimes.

You fell asleep on the couch quickly after.

Manon scented something was off as soon as she entered the rooms - blood. She stalked right for your side, one arm dangled over the edge of the couch, the other curled under your pillow. You were sound asleep, your breaths deep and steady, and only mumbling as she carefully lifted your arm, turning it gently to see a small scrape on your palm. Falling. Again. You were so clumsy it worried her sometimes. She called your name, quietly at first. Poking you when you didn’t wake. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking heavily once you saw her.

“Falling, again?” She raised her brow, looking at the slightly guilty smile on your face. “You need to be more careful.” She exhaled sharply, going to find something to bandage it with, and disinfect it.

“I already took care of it,” you called after her, but she ignored you. Dorian came back shortly after, frowning at Manon wrapping a small piece of cloth over your hand. “It’s over kill,” you insisted, but one sharp look and your mouth snapped shut.

“Did you hurt anything else?”

“No,” you sighed, rolling back to shove your head into the pillow. Manon was a bit suspicious but … she knows you get annoyed when she fusses, and left it for now.

The three of you collapsed into bed, all tired, and a slightly longer than usual nightgown hid the bruises. Your head still ached, but you took another tonic to fight that off. Apparently their day had been incredibly exhausting because they didn’t question anything too much, and the three of you fell into a deep sleep within minutes.

Dorian rose first the next morning, smiling at the sight of you and Manon curled up together. Your nightgown bunched slightly at the side but … purple, he caught a sliver of purple skin. Carefully, he pulled down the blanket some more, shifting your clothing as well. A giant purple bruise bloomed on the side.

He called your name, but you didn’t wake - he woke Manon, however, who spotted the bruise as well.

“Y/n.” She called this time. Nothing. He shook your shoulder slightly, and you still didn’t stir.

A quick scan with his magic showed some kind of swelling in your brain. That’s beyond anything he could handle. He scooped you in his arms, darting out the door as quickly as possible, not caring he was only wearing a pair of long sleeping pants, and sprinted for the healing rooms, carefully cradling your head against his shoulder. Manon caught up to him quickly, thankfully having thrown some clothes on, and asking questions but he couldn’t answer - his only focus was getting you there, as fast as he could.

It took most of Dorian’s self restraint to keep both him and Manon from interrupting the healers working on you.

“She said she didn’t hurt anything else.” Manon’s voice was barely above a whisper, her hand clutching onto his arms, nails digging in slightly. Maybe it would’ve hurt, but he was too focused on the scene in front of him to notice.

You can be a bit clumsy, and Dorian knows that - it’s not unusual for you to come in with some sort of scrape or bruise once in a while but … neither of them asked what happened this time. The day had been long, and they’d been tired. Guilt ripped through him. And you’d lied too - to Manon, saying nothing else was injured, then a dark bruise on your leg and back, and somehow you’d hit your head.

He felt his magic starting to bubble underneath his skin. One of the healer’s noticed as well and turned sharply to them. “We’re taking care of her. Both of you out.”

Manon’s eyes narrowed at the woman ordering them out of the room, but her face was firm, no-nonsense, and unyielding. Dorian pushed her back gently, and she left, somehow without snarling or hissing at any of the healers. They found a small bench no less than 20 feet from the door, and waited. She leaned her head against his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. The warmth provided an anchor, kept Manon from spiraling too deep into her thoughts. But she can’t help thinking she should’ve checked, she should’ve pushed further. Dorian’s absolute panic had filled her with dread. He always seems to keep his head, always calm.

You knew you weren’t dying, but by the looks of it everyone else seemed to think so.

It was strange, seeming to float outside of your body - watching everyone move around you. You were in and out of this semi-conscious state for days, watching as healers would fuss over you - take your temperature, check your heart rate and breathing, scan for any additional injuries. Swelling in her brain, you heard once - and winced.

The worst part was watching Manon and Dorian. They were pale, their eyes lined with worry, and the bags under their eyes were heavy enough it looks like they might have punched each other. You were never alone, one of them was always there unless the healers kicked them out. Either holding your hand, or sitting next to you.

Once, when Manon wasn’t present, Dorian brought a book. Your favorite, and read outloud to you - his eyes darting over to your face with every other line. All you wanted was to reach out, to grab his hand, touch him and let him know you’re okay, but you couldn’t. Your body was stuck there, limp and pale.

You’d never felt this kind of hopelessness before. Knowing your loved ones are in pain and only able to watch them suffer, not give a comforting squeeze, word, or even blink.

Five days passed, and you were back in your rooms.

At dawn, on the seventh morning, Manon laid next to you, curled on her side, eyes closed, but you could tell she was awake. Dorian was awkwardly spread over a chair, his chest falling and rising in even breaths. Asleep. You watched as tears dripped down Manon’s cheeks. Not once had you seen her cry. She didn’t say a word, no sobs leaving her chest, but the silent tears broke something in you.

You blinked, and you were back in your body. You stayed perfectly still, trying to figure out if this was real or not. Slowly, you opened your eyes. Manon was there, tears still lining her cheeks.

It took more effort than you cared to admit, but you reached your arm up, brushing a tear off her cheek. She leaned into your touch for a few seconds, before those beautiful eyes shot open.

She grabbed your hand, holding it gently between both of hers. “You’re awake.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and hoarse.

Dorian was up in an instant, sitting on the other side of the bed and taking your other hand.

“Hi.” Your voice was so weak it came out as a croak. Dorian let out something between a sob and a laugh.

Reluctantly, Dorian left to grab the healers as quickly as he could. Manon had refused to move - holding onto your hand like a lifeline.

He returned with them, and it was a whirl of questions that made your head hurt, and further instructions. Rest, rest, and rest. Enough rest to drive you insane.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Manon finally asked after the room cleared.

“It .. it didn’t seem that bad.” Your voice was rough and your throat scratchy but you managed to get the words out.

“You hit your head, you’ve been out for a week.” Manon hissed, but kept her voice low. You could have died, went unsaid. Dorian handed you a glass of water, helping you sit up against the pillows. You could sense the … not quite anger, but hurt coming from him. Hurt and fear. You clutched the glass, forcing your hands not to shake, and took a small sip.

“I know,” you whispered. She blinked in confusion. “I … I wasn’t here, but I could see it, sometimes.” Your hands began to shake, water starting to slosh over the edges

She pressed her lips in a tight line, and took the glass from you, pressing it up against your lips. “You’re not getting out of bed until I say so,” was her response.

You glared at her, opening your mouth to say something, but Dorian spoke before you could. “This isn’t a battle you’ll win. I’m on her side.”

“Traitor.” You mumbled.

#throne of glass fic #throne of glass imagine #poly!manorian #poly!manorian x y/n #poly!manorian x reader #manorian x reader #manorian x y/n #manon blackbeak x reader #manon blackbeak x y/n #dorian havilliard x y/n #dorian havilliard x reader #dorian havilliard x manon blackbeak #angst-ish

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felixsramen · 2 years ago

Text

Yours Truly

Previous<<<< Next>>>>>

This is part 4 to my Skz poly fic. It's short because there'll be smut next chapter.

Warnings: Guy hits on reader when she doesn't want it but is dealt with

Here you were at 4 something pm putting gems on your face in the bathroom mirror. The week had gone by pretty fast and it was currently Saturday the day of Felixs birthday party. Your eyeliner had taken quite a bit of tries when you finally decided to give it up and settle instead for gems.

'What should I wear?' sits on your phone as you wait for Felixs text message.

You had already decided it'd be much easier to gel your hair down and hoped it'd stay yet that depended on the humidity outside.

You finish putting the last gem on your face. You look in the mirror proud of your handiwork and how little time you used doing it. 4:45 sits on the phone.

Your phone lights up with a notification. 'Whatever you'd like to. No one's judging😊'

You sigh going through your closet. Hopefully you could find the outfit you were thinking of. You finally find it and head back to the bathroom and change.

You finish and look at your phone. 5:17. It had taken you a while to find the right outfit.

'I'm about to leave the house I'll be there soon' you text Felix.

Within seconds he replies.

'Can't wait😁'

You grab your keys, and your phone. You walk out of the house to your car.

You already know the address considering you've been to the house twice. You sigh thinking about what will unfold tonight.

You turn the radio on to get rid of the thoughts. You eventually pull up to the house and you walk up to the familiar house and knock.

The door opens and you're met with Jisungs face. "Hi Y/N!" Jisung says excitedly and you smile at him.

"Hi." You say and Jisung moves out the way so you can come in.

You're met with loud music and a whole bunch of people standing around with cups in their hands. "Felix Y/Ns here!" Jisung yells out.

You wonder if Jisung is already drunk. He looks back at you smiling.

Within seconds Felix comes out of the crowd of people with two drinks in his hands. When Felix appears Jisung disappears back into the crowd following after one of his boyfriends he saw.

"Hey Y/N!" Felix says over the loud music.

"Happy birthday!" You say rather loudly and excitedly.

Felix hands you one of the cups in his hands. "Thank you." He says smiling.

"You're welcome." You say sipping from the drink. It was strong and you make a face. Felix laughs at you.

"Too strong?" Felix questions you and you nod.

"Here let's go make you another drink." Felix says grabbing your free hand and pulling you towards the kitchen.

In the kitchen you see Hyunjin leaning against the counter head on Seungmins shoulder sipping from his cup.

"Hey Y/N." Hyunjin says putting his cup down.

"Hey Hyunjin and Seungmin." You say waving and Seungmin waves back to you.

"Enjoying the party?" Hyunjin asks an eyebrow raised.

"Well I just got here." You say and Hyunjin nods. He really was beautiful all 8 of them looked like they were handcrafted by God himself. You still couldn't believe you had not just slept with him but also Chan. Then now you've ended up pretty much becoming somewhat friends with the group of guys.

"Y/N?" Felix says breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Hm?" You say looking at him.

"Try this. It's more of a fruity drink." Felix says and hands you a red cup.

You take him from him and sip it slowly. It was sweet yet also had a nice burn to it.

"Do you like it?" Felix says eyes brightening.

You nod smiling at him. "It's really good is it strawberry?" You asked curiously.

Felix shakes his head no. "Its fruit punch." He says and you sip it again.

From behind Felix comes a drunk Changbin who places his head on Felixs shoulder. "Baby?" Whines Changbin and Felix chuckles at his boyfriend.

"I think you've had a quite a bit of drinks." Felix says and Changbin goes to kiss Felix who dodges him. Changbin pouts.

"I want a kiss." Changbin says still pouting. Felix gives in pecking Changbin lips.

Changbin frowns. "A real kiss." He says and Felix sighs.

"You know normally I'd love to but you're drunk." Felix says turning around to face Changbin.

"Fine." Changbin pouts.

"I think we should get you to bed." Felix says at his moody boyfriend.

"No I want to party." Changbin says and Felix laughs.

"Babe you're drunk I think you've partied enough." Felix says.

From the kitchen door comes Minho. He looks at Changbin. "So this is where you went." Minho says sighing.

"I was worried about you. One second you were standing beside me while I was talking to someone and then I turn to find you and you were gone." Minho says concerned.

"I'm sorry." Changbin mumbles.

"It's okay you were just drunk and I didn't want you to wander off and get hurt." Minho says placing a hand on Changbins back.

Felix smiles at you sadly. "I'm sorry I need to help put Changbin in bed. He's drunk already and I don't want him to get hurt." Felix says hands on Changbins hip.

"No it's fine I'm sure I'll find someone to talk to. You guys do what you need to." You say smiling. Felix and Minho smile at you.

"Let's go love." Felix says and Changbin whines.

Minho puts one of Changbins arms around him and Felix does the same.

"I don't want to go to bed." Changbin whines.

"I know babe but you need to." Minho says to him.

"Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?" Changbin says hopeful. You smile at him and both of the boys holding him laugh as they start off down the hall.

"Yeah we'll give you a goodnight kiss." Felix says as they disappear out of sight.

You walk into the crowd and find a seat on the couch. You sigh out loud and put your head in your hands.

Someone sits beside you. "Are you okay?" Someone says and you look up eyes meeting the stranger.

"As okay as someone can get." You say and the girl laughs.

"I get that." The girl says.

"I'm Maria." She says and holds out a hand for you to shake.

"Y/N." You say and shake her hand.

"Boy problems?" She asks questioning you.

"Kind of." You say sighing.

"Sounds about right." She says.

"Do you mind if I ask what's going on?" She says asking you.

"Well I'm sure you know the hosts of the party or you wouldn't be here." She nods at your statement.

"I'm sure you know they're all dating. Well a couple weeks ago I was at a club and I met these 2 guys they came up to me and they told me they had boyfriends it wasn't like they didn't tell me. They said it was okay with their boyfriends if we fucked. And they took me back to their house." You say continuing your story.

Her eyes are wide. "Well we had sex and I woke up early in the morning and called an Uber. Yet as I was leaving I ran into 2 of their boyfriends. They didn't say much to me. But like a week later I was back at that same club and two of these disgusting guys tried getting me to dance with them and one tried kissing me. Can you guess who knocked the guys out?" You say asking her.

"The guys you slept with?" She says guessing.

You laugh. "I wish sometimes. No it was the boyfriends I met that morning. My friends had left me for my birthday and I had no ride or even my keys. They offered me to stay the night and I drive them home because the guy that knocked both dudes out had a gash on his hand. I ended up staying the night. I woke up and had breakfast with all of them." You say and Maria listens intently.

"It wasn't awkward?" She asks you.

"Surprisingly no. They were all really sweet and treated me nicely. Felix the ones who this party is for ended up inviting me to the party." You say and you sigh.

"That's the problem?" She asks you and you shake your head.

"No I think I'm falling for them. I know I'm nuts for falling for 8 guys who are dating and I've only ever met them like 3 times now." You say running a hand through your hair.

She laughs and it relaxes you for some unknown reason. "Oh sweet girl you're not insane for that. You sound like how I was when I first met my boyfriends." She says.

"Boyfriends?" You say asking her and she nods smiling.

"8." She says and your eyebrows raise.

"Though I didn't sleep with 2 of them. I met them all at a club though. Some dude was getting too handsy and one of them came up to him who I would know later as San hit him in the face." She says laughing at the memory.

"San invited me to the table and I agreed and that's when I met the rest of them." She says sighing dreamily.

"It was a nice night you know and we all ended up exchanging numbers. It took us only meeting twice to know that we all wanted each other. So if you're nuts I'm most definitely insane." She says to you.

"Yeah well I doubt any one of them see me like that. They've all got each other and I don't really fall into any category of them." You say and Maria laughs.

"Can I be for real with you for a second?" She says and you nod.

"I don't think Felix would've invited you if he didn't have some kind of interest in you but I may be wrong." She says smiling and shrugging. She takes the cup in her hands and brings it to her lips.

Suddenly from behind the couch two guys peek over at you both. She lifts her head and rolls her eyes playfully. "This is San and Wooyoung who love listening in on conversations." Maria says and you wave. "This is Y/N my new friend." They wave back.

"You drunk yet?" One of them says.

"No I'm not San. Why are you asking?" She says an eyebrow raised.

"No reason love." The other one who you assume is Wooyoung says.

"Joong says we're going to leave in like an hour or two." San says and Maria sighs.

"Okay." Maria says and frowns.

"Don't do that. You know how Yeosang doesn't like parties he's only here because you wanted to go." Wooyoung says frowning back at you.

"I know love. I just made a new friend though." She says looking at you.

"I know baby. But you can get her phone number and hang out with her anytime." San says acknowledging you.

"You're right." She says.

"Invite Yeosang over here. I want to make sure he's okay." She says concerned.

"Okay. We'll see you later. Love you." Wooyoung says and both of them kiss her cheek.

"Love you guys too." She says and both boys leave.

"Those are the two troublemakers." She says smiling.

"The one they're talking about Yeosang?" You question and she nods.

"He's not a social butterfly. Most of them aren't but especially Mingi and Yeosang they have bad anxiety." She says sadly thinking about her boyfriends.

You nod understanding. A guy approaches the couch and tries to sit beside you both and Maria gets up sitting on your other side.

"How are you ladies?" The guy says and you cringe.

"Disgusted." You say.

"Grossed out." Maria says at the same time as you.

You assume the guy is drunk by the way he places a hand on your leg. You grab his hand moving it off of you.

"What don't want me baby?" He asks you both.

"No." You both say in Unison.

"Come on. Just one night." He asks you and you roll your eyes.

"Piss off." You say in response. He places his hand back on your thigh. Suddenly a fist connects with the guys face.

"What the fuck!" The guy yells as you look at the unfamiliar guy who hit him.

"Yeosang!" Maria yells and his eyes meet hers for a second.

"They said piss off or you'll leave with a broken nose next." Yeosang says angrily.

"Fuck you. What are you going to do about it by yourself?" The dude says getting in Yeosangs face.

"You want to fucking find out?" Yeosang spits back into his face.

"Leave. Now." Comes from behind Yeosang and Chan is behind him.

"Whatever. I didn't want these stupid bitches anyways." The dude grumbles and that's when Chans fist connects with the dudes face and this time you hear a snap and blood comes from his nose.

"Fuck!" The guy yells out as he practically runs out the door in pain.

Chan and Yeosangs eyes meet yours and Marias.

"Are you guys okay?" Yeosang asks and you both nod.

"Thank you." You both say to both guys.

Chan nods and Yeosang smiles softly. "Maybe we should go home." Maria says and Yeosang nods.

"Whatever you want to do love." Yeosang says as Maria hugs him.

Maria pulls away and looks at you. "I'm sorry Y/N but I think I'm going to leave now." She says.

"No I understand." You say reassuring her.

"Here. Put your number in my phone. I'll be back to get it. We're going to round our boyfriends back up so we can go." She says laughing softly. You smile as she gets up from the couch and Yeosang wraps an arm around her.

They walk off to go find the rest of their boyfriends.

You type your number in her phone. You look up as Chan sits beside you now.

"You good?" Chan asks quietly.

That's when you break down. You can't take it anymore and cry softly. Chan brings you into a hug and rubs your back.

"It's okay. I'm here." Chan says and you cry into him. Chan could care less right now if you ruined his shirt he wouldn't and couldn't let you cry by yourself.

You slowly stop crying and pull away from Chan who sadly smiles at you.

"I'm sorry." You say and Chan shakes his head.

"Don't be. You've been through a lot." Chan says and you cling to his shirt.

"It's not your fault." Chan says still rubbing your back.

You really were falling for these boys.

Taglist: @queenmea604 @lolareadsimagines @tinyworld18 @liv302

#skz smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #skz fluff #poly skz

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empress-of-snark · 1 month ago

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weekly good things

I've fallen out of the habit of doing these again, and I need to remember the positives more than ever right now, so here we go

-as previously mentioned, I applied for a new job and while I haven't heard back just yet, a friend of mine who was recently hired by the same place said she didn't get a call until about a week after submitting her application, so hopefully someone should be getting back to me within the next few days (fingers crossed)

-I had a girls day out with a few friends of mine, and bought some really cute jeans half-off at Old Navy--they've got little daisies embroidered on them!

-my brother and I have been watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer together since he's never seen it, and it's been super fun cause we're only on season two and he hates Xander already lmaoo

-I got a Rosetta Stone subscription and started learning Spanish!

next week...

-tomorrow I may or may not go to a get-together with some friends for games/food (and if I do in fact decide to be social, I will wear my cute new daisy jeans)

-writing! I've been neglecting my main fic in favor of little additions to the series, and I'd like to buckle down and manage at least a couple thousand words next week

-my best friend and I are planning another weekend visit near the end of the month, and seeing her always lifts my spirits :)

#trying to stay at least moderately positive in these trying times #it ain't easy #personal #weekly good things

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fangbangerghoul · 9 months ago

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New banner! Because I enjoy making them and I love American Dad.

Today the banner reflects the cringe I feel when I share my wips sometimes. I love fanfiction and I love it when others share and write fanfiction but occasionally it's hard to get over that small bump that tells me 'Should you really be writing that?'

Hopefully everyone's week has been good so far and the rest of the week gets even better! Today's WIP will not be a snippet of my DD2 fic but something else entirely that I have started working on shamelessly.

Tagging: @interplanet--janet, @a-cosmic-elf, @bearlytolerant, @lisa-and-shadow, and @therealgchu

WIP snippet under the cut. If you've noticed some of the posts I have been making recently that are not Dragon's Dogma 2 related, you might be able to guess what this fanfic is but if not oh well because I refuse to say it out loud until I am alone with it in a dark forest, and it demands me to.

WIP!

Time had passed while she relaxed and felt the healing waters envelop her body. The wear and tear from travel almost drifted away completely until something faint had caught her senses. There was another body that softly approached within the same side of the hot springs as her and the tension that had melted away slowly returned to her core. Kiichi stayed silent as she watched for any sudden movements, and she did not put it pass anyone to try to collect the bounty on her head while she was in her most vulnerable state.

The water softly rippled towards her and that was when she saw the person who had sunken into the warm pool next to her. His hair was long and black as midnight and those unforgettable crimson eyes stared ahead not daring to peek her way. She was surprised to notice that he had climbed in as well, something unexpected from her knowledge of him. She saw behind him laid a few of his items, confirming he was also undressed, including his cloak decorated with red feathering clouds against a black void of fabric.

“Happy birthday.” The familiar voice broke the silence. Its sound bringing back core memories along with it and a vortex of grief and anger. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip to calm herself from the onslaught of feelings and a hint of iron touched her tongue.

“It's surprising that you didn't appear with a kunai to my neck to say that.” When she rose out the water enough to speak, she tried to keep back the hiss in her voice, but it seeped into the space between them against all her effort. The sloshing of water between her motions were the only thing that softened the aggression in her voice.

He did not respond to her question, nor did he look directly at her still. His eyes were fixed on the window that opened to the mountains ahead and she allowed herself to relax knowing he wasn't going to immediately attack. They simultaneously leaned onto the stones that were against their backs and she felt the stone scrape at her softening skin. She used the uncomfortable feeling to her advantage to stay on guard for his next move or words. Even for him this was unusual territory for the two of them.

#wip wednesday #fang writes #i tagged you #but you dont have to post if you dont want to #hopefully youve had a good day #new oc?#kind of #its funny cause if you guess the right fandom the character referenced is not the character that drove me to start writing this

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takeariskao3 · 2 years ago

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Day 7: Lover written for #SeveralSunlitDaylights & @corneliaavenue-ao3

a version of this has existed since may of 2020 and it feels so good to finally put it into the universe after sitting on it for three (THREE!) years... i have a feeling i will continue this at some point and hopefully turn it into a full blow fic, but until then, enjoy some non-traditional, pandemic themed, sex pollen, a/b/o dynamics <33

They said it started in China. At the annual festival in Shanghai.

Some experts claimed the mutation originated because of an uncharacteristically dry winter. Some blamed climate change. Others said it was all part of the cyclical nature of the earth. A purification process. Nature taking its course.

The more hysterically minded said it was the end of the fucking world.

Either way, Ginny watched in horror with the rest of Edinburgh as more and more reports flooded the news.

All across the northern hemisphere, the cherry trees were blossoming, and people were going mad.

~~~

The thing about fear was that it spread like wildfire.

Grocery stores emptied of necessities overnight. The Prime Minister issued stay at home orders, some of the more populated areas even attempted a voluntary curfew. Borders were closed, air traffic came to a grinding halt, restaurants were instructed to only offer takeout, and any non-essential businesses were told to close their doors entirely.

For a while, it all felt over-cautious.

At least until the first case hit Cardiff.

They said the little omega lasted three days in a severe heat until the pain and the dehydration finally rendered her unconscious. Her family rushed her to the emergency room and it was another two days before the hospital identified what was happening to her. They said before she was quarantined, she infected almost thirty people, nine of them hospital staff.

It spread from twenty-nine confirmed cases to over three-hundred within a week, three-hundred became eight-thousand within the month.

And that was just Wales.

~~~

Birmingham was the third city to reach critical levels of contamination, after Liverpool and Manchester.

They projected a global spread, the more densely populated areas being hit first. Each day the estimates increased, predicting numbers so catastrophic, there hadn’t been anything like it in over five-hundred years.

The real test, however, was London.

There were reports that all the major cabinet members had been moved to separate and secure locations. That way if any of them contracted the sickness, at the very least, they wouldn’t infect the rest of the country's leaders.

The worst part was nobody seemed to know anything. Records of the last pandemic were inconclusive or didn’t exist. No one knew how long the sickness lasted or how debilitating it really was. Less reliable news sources even reported deaths when the first wave hit eastern China, rumours spreading of alphas ripping each other apart over the chance to mate an omega.

But that’s all they were.

Rumours.

~~~

Designation had never mattered much to Ginny. It was just something stamped on her birth certificate next to seven pounds two ounces, eighteen inches long. Her ruts weren’t dramatic events, they were hardly even a disruption. Four times a year, she’d get the urge, use her fingers on herself three nights in a row and wait out the subsequent five days of bleeding.

Designation also hasn’t mattered to the world in decades. Suppressants went out of fashion after the turn of the century, the human race’s more animalistic instincts fading with each generation until the ruts and heats became nothing more than quarterly nuisances. Only a very small percentage of the population still needed herbs and homoeopathic blockers to get by, the rest went about their lives business as usual.

Humanity had evolved past such trivial things as Alpha, Beta, and Omega.

But now, it was all anyone could talk about.

~~~

Dawdling around the townhouse, Ginny took her frustrations out in the form of kneading a lumpy, soon to be loaf of bread while half listening to the news. Her television emitted a scratchy noise every few seconds, but for a dumpster dive, it worked fine enough. Especially since for the six weeks she’d been stuck at home, she’d hardly turned the damn thing off.

It wasn’t so much that she was dedicated to being informed, she just couldn’t bear the silence.

No honking cars, no nosy tourists, no shouting street vendors.

It was quiet in an uncomfortable way, in an unnatural way. In a way that left Ginny too much alone with her own thoughts.

As she punched the dough down as hard as she could, her telly warbled out an odd static followed by the evening news anchor chatting animatedly with a couple who supposedly recovered from the sickness.

“And you think having each other,” the journalist asked in disbelief, “helped speed up your recovery?”

“We realise it sounds a bit crazy, we aren’t even sure if there is science to support it–” a male voice responded. He sounded rational enough even though what he was saying went against every directive of social distancing. “But I’m an alpha, and my wife is an omega. When we both came down with it, we decided to stay home and wait it out together. Within a week or so we felt completely back to normal...”

Ginny snorted. The hospitals reported the illness lasting between twelve to fifteen days, not seven. And what were their credentials besides claiming to have been infected? The news station could interview anyone off the street. They’d probably interview her if she claimed she danced naked, covered in chicken’s blood beneath the full moon and it spared her. If anything, the segment was irresponsible. Now people were going to go out looking for a sex partner for the week.

Sighing at the downturn in journalistic integrity, she tuned out the rest of the interview, content to bask in the early May breeze wafting through the open windows.

Until she heard the squeak of brakes slow to a stop out front.

And muffled voices.

Followed by a car door slamming shut.

She’d just begun to wonder which bluenose neighbour had arrived to hole up in a holiday house when footsteps scuffed up the stone walk, her stone walk, and a key slid into the lock of her front door.

The knob turned, the door clicked open, and Ginny stood rooted to the spot, covered in flour as her landlord (slash older brother’s best mate) appeared framed on the stoop.

At first, Harry didn’t notice her. He stepped inside, careful to scrub his shoes on the mat before closing the door behind him and dropping his duffle unceremoniously in the foyer. He looked the same as he had nearly a year ago. He scratched a hand through the disaster hair piled atop his head then patted it all down again. His glasses were the same, and he still had the same little divot permanently etching his brow into a scowl. Beneath his anorak she could tell his lean frame still gave way to lanky limbs that shifted into slender fingers.

Then the telly switched programs, the News giving way to some crime documentary, or something. Ginny wasn’t actually paying attention. At the change in music, Harry froze with his back halfway to her and his shoulders went tight.

Then he turned on the spot, and he finally registered Ginny’s presence tucked away in the kitchen at the back of the house.

Their gazes held for several beats too long, both of them wide-eyed and startled by the existence of the other in such close proximity.

Ginny’s heart thundered inside her chest, in a way that was achingly familiar and entirely unwelcome.

“What are you– I didn’t think–” Harry stammered quickly. “Ron said he was meeting you back home?”

“He was,” Ginny answered, just as flustered. “I’d planned on it but– I couldn’t– I mean, I…changed my mind.”

Harry dug his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses and swore softly. He looked a bit peaky.

“Christ, I’m an idiot,” He croaked. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured, not quite sure why she was pardoning his intrusion. “It’s still your house.”

They stared at each other in the silence for several beats too long, both of them seemingly at a loss for what to do next.

“Er–” Harry finally stammered, a grin taking over his face. “Hi, by the way.”

Ginny laughed. “Yeah... long time, no see.”

They went in for a hug at the same time, but it was too light and too quick to feel natural. As he pulled away, Harry averted his gaze and let his eyes wander around the hall and the front two rooms.

“Is Luna…” he trailed off, as if those two words were question enough.

Ginny realised she was still covered in baking powder and half finished dough. She grabbed a tea towel from the hook and wiped her hands just for something to look at besides him. “She and her Dad were visiting family in Hamburg when the stay at home orders hit. She’s been stuck there for over a month. They can’t get a flight home.”

Harry nodded and let out a deep exhale of sympathy. “Fuck, yeah, that’d be awful.” He paused, shooting her a furtive glance. “And you? How–how are you?”

“Yeah, fine,” One half of her mouth tipped into a smile. “You?”

Shaking his head as if in thought, his hands fidgeted slightly in front of him. “Well, London is a disaster. They aren’t letting anyone leave their homes, or letting anyone into town. They’re letting people leave, but it took me ten days just to get approval to hop a train. I figured it couldn’t be so bad up here, you know? That’s why I…”

He trailed off again and Ginny wondered if he’d become incapable of finishing a coherent sentence in the time since she’d seen him last.

“Makes sense,” she nodded generously.

Harry remained exactly where he was, awkwardly perched on the welcome mat.

“You can come in,” Ginny asserted and he flinched a bit like he hadn’t expected to actually be allowed to stay.

“Right,” he cleared his throat and stepped forward like a man walking the plank.

Busying herself with the kettle, she tried not to be too aware of his progress through the sitting room.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wave to the bookshelves on either side of the fireplace. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Ginny grinned. The house held tell-tale signs of being solely occupied by her for the last month and a half. Stray jumpers, and rumpled throw pillows, and forgotten cups of tea sat scattered all around. The dishes in the sink were piled several days too high and the bananas on her countertop were just a shade too brown.

“It’s a disaster,” she corrected, pulling her last two bags of tea out of the cupboard.

Harry flashed her a smile, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I mean the furniture and things. The colours.”

“The colours?” she repeated incredulously.

“Yeah,” he hummed, finally inching his way fully into the kitchen. He swallowed as his eyes settled on her once more. “It looks nice. Cosy.”

Snorting, she pulled her nearly empty carton of milk out of the refrigerator. “A sight better than when you and Ron lived here, you mean?”

That fleeting smirk again, there and then gone. “Do you know our sofa broke in two when we tried to move it out?”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest.”

Ginny poured and they both chuckled. She passed him one of the mugs and the milk, remembering how he took it. She reckoned it was one of those things she’d never forget. Like the opening to her favourite Spice Girls’ song, or her childhood phone number, or the rhymes to bonfire night. Two plus two equals four and Harry took his tea with milk, no sugar.

He tipped a splash into his cup, seemed to hesitate for a second, and then burst, “I can get a room. There’s got to be a hotel open in Old Town–”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ginny cut across him, spooning a heap of sugar into her own tea. Again, she wasn’t quite sure why she was contradicting him, but she refused to chase the thought down, because then she’d have to acknowledge that somewhere deep down she wanted him to stay.

“Ginny,” he croaked. “I can’t intrude like this. I’ll figure something out. I’ll go stay at Sirius’ place in the country, or–”

“Harry,” she interrupted him again. “It’s your house.”

He seemed determined to put himself out. “But I can’t just show up out of the blue and–”

“Luna took your old room–” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I mean, you pay rent!” Now he was just talking to himself. “I had no right–”

“And she’s obviously not using it–” Ginny reasoned, though the ramifications of what she was suggesting crept up on her in a gradual recognition of awareness.

“I bet the Chisholm Hunter has rooms–”

“Harry!” she cut across him in humoured agitation. “It’s fine. Stay tonight, or the next few days, or a week, until you figure it out. It’s fine.”

He blinked, the furrow between his brows deepening in thought. “You’re sure it’s okay?”

“Yes,” she lied, like a liar. “It’s not a big deal.”

It was kind of a big deal, but she could handle it.

“You said they aren’t letting people into London, right?” Ginny continued. “What are you going to do? Rent a room until they let you go back home? That could be months!”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, then shut it again and exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Yeah, alright,” He conceded. “But only until I can get ahold of Sirius. Then, I swear, I’ll get out of your hair.”

The statement stung, just a little. As if getting out of her sight was vastly preferable than remaining in it.

“Where is he?” Ginny asked instead, lifting her mug to her mouth as if completely unaffected.

Harry pulled out his mobile and punched in his passcode. “Australia. Apparently their cherry trees don’t bloom until September.”

A scoff bubbled up in the back of her throat. “Lucky Australia.”

He muttered something that sounded like agreement and pressed the phone to his ear. As he meandered back into the sitting room, Ginny turned her cupboards in search of biscuits. Surely, she still had a package left somewhere.

Harry returned within moments. “Didn’t answer.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “Isn’t it like three in the morning?”

Harry gave her a flat look. “It’s Sirius.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

Something in his expression sparked at her reaction and it made the breath in her lungs go shallow.

Just like his smiles, the flare of something was there and then gone in an instant. She tried not to feel the familiarity of it, really she did, but something hollowed out spread through her middle at the reminder of her nearly debilitating infatuation, and then its eventual collapse.

Ginny cleared her throat, coming back to her senses. “So, you said it took you forever to get a train ticket. Have they decreased the routes?”

“Oh, erm–” Harry took a sip of tea that was clearly too hot for his mouth and he winced. “Yeah, and they’re checking into everyone who books.”

Understanding washed over her. “Right, so they make sure people aren’t…”

Great, now she was incapable of finishing her sentences.

He looked to her uncomfortably. “I hadn’t actually ever seen my birth certificate, I just always figured I was a Beta. Had to have a Doctor check me over once to make sure I wasn’t — you know — that I hadn’t gone unidentified.”

“Right, good. Nice.”

Why exactly was it nice? She should really stop talking.

“Is that why you…” He gestured vaguely south with one hand. “Couldn’t…go home?”

“Oh, er-” Ginny resisted the urge to cringe. “No.”

In reality, she’d had plenty of time to book a train to Devon before they started restricting the passengers who were designated one way or the other, but she hadn’t had the funds.

Harry’s gaze sharpened in curiosity.

“Do you want to put your stuff upstairs?” she asked brightly. “You must be knackered after travelling all day.”

~~~

Ginny retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaning back against the sink. Shortly after Harry had settled into Luna’s room, his old room, she’d heard his mobile ring. His muffled voice through the mostly closed door had been maddening, and nearly too tempting to eavesdrop on, so she’d escaped.

She was half-torn. One part of her wished Sirius was offering up his country house to his godson immediately, and the other part hoped there was some flood, or fire, or other natural disaster that made it inhabitable.

Because the prospect of spending time with someone, but especially him; to not be alone hour after hour and day after day, was almost too exquisite to contemplate.

Christ, she was hopeless.

With nothing better to do than simmer in her own thoughts, Ginny turned the taps to the bath and adjusted the temperature until the shower spray was borderline scorching. She spent an excessive amount of time washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She didn’t bother trying to figure out if she was doing it consciously or subconsciously, but she did know she was avoiding the end of her shower. Because as soon as she left the bath, she’d find out if he was staying or going.

Both scenarios felt too formidable to contemplate.

Eventually, though, the water ran cold, and Ginny couldn’t hide any longer.

After brushing her teeth, applying night cream, and wrapping herself up in her dressing gown, Ginny yanked open the bathroom door to find Harry standing directly in the doorway, with his fist raised as if to knock.

“Oh, sorry–” He muttered, his gaze flitting down her body and back up again. His face flushed just enough to notice. “That was Sirius,” he continued. “I can stay at his place, so I’ll be out of here as soon as I can book a train.”

Ginny pulled in a breath and did her best to keep it even. “Right. Good.”

She felt anything but good.

Squeezing past him and into the hallway, she kept her expression bright and open until she was safe inside her bedroom.

In her haste, she missed the way his eyes fluttered shut as she passed.

~~~

That night was unseasonably hot. The forecast had called for it to be a mild week, balmy and temperate, so Ginny wasn’t sure why the air wafting in through her open window felt so stifling. As she tossed and turned, a light sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and she contemplated the merits of another shower. This time a cold one.

She settled for a glass of water instead.

Padding down the hall toward the stairs, Ginny skirted past Luna’s room as quickly and quietly as she could. However, in the end, stealth didn’t matter.

Harry was already in the kitchen, propped up against the sink and looking pale.

“You okay?” Ginny muttered, taking a tentative step forward.

Clenching his eyes shut, Harry kept his head down and nodded. “I don’t know what’s happened to my stomach. Food poisoning or something–”

“I may have some Pepti upstairs?”

Harry nodded again.

She took a step closer, reaching for a glass from the shelf when the scent hit her. It smelled like fresh spring mornings, and the citrus of Earl Grey tea, and the warmth of never being alone. It smelled like home.

Every instinct she had screamed at her to take in more of it, to surround herself in it. Harry’s eyes met hers through the dim light and she saw him pull in a deep inhale through flared nostrils.

In an instant, her mind was restless and her body uncomfortably warm. Parts of her she didn’t know could ache, gnawed and cramped in time with her too loud pulse.

She dropped the glass she’d been holding at the same time Harry lept backwards.

In some corner of her mind, she knew what was happening. All of the doctors listed the same symptoms over and over; heightened senses, irregular body temperature, lower-abdominal cramps, increased libido. However, she was firmly ignoring the signs… especially the last one. It was much easier to dismiss her body’s immediate urges as coincidence. Otherwise, she would also have to admit what triggered it.

For fuck’s sake, Harry triggered it.

But that would mean he–

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

#hinny #severalsunlitdaylights #hinny fic #a/b/o #harry/ginny #harry x ginny #my fic

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depressed-sock · 25 days ago

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Follow the Path (1747 words) by depressed-sock Gift for: revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: OC dechipped clone working for the Hidden Path/OC Jedi survivor Characters: Original Female Character(s), Other Star Wars Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Additional Tags: The Hidden Path, Mild Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Getting to Know Each Other, Pre-Relationship, Treat Fic, Trans Female Character, Building trust, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars) ...

Circuit’s been on the hidden path long enough that it doesn’t surprise her when the Nautolan Jedi, with the sickly purple skin, she’s meant to be escorting freezes as soon as her mask comes off. It’s familiar in a way that hurts but is still understandable. Her face is one of millions and she has no doubt most of the surviving Jedi will be seeing it in their nightmares for years to come.

She holds up her hands, leaves her mind as open as she can. The scars in there are impossible to hide anyway. “I know,” her voice a raspy whisper. The last gift the Empire gave her before he had found her.

She still doesn’t know why the old Jedi master had saved her but she’s never gone a day where she hasn’t tried her best to repay him. Circuit was given a path forward and now she returns the favor.

“I know,” she repeats, keeping herself calm even as the Jedi’s hand goes to the lightsaber hidden within their clothes. “I escaped the Empire with the help of a Jedi. I follow the path.”

The Jedi watches her. Circuit knows that they won’t use their abilities, not with how long they’ve been on the run. Not with the threat of the Inquisitors.

So she slowly sits, hands still up. The Jedi tenses but doesn’t move to skewer her so she considers that a win. “I’m just here to guide you to the next part of your journey to safety.”

There’s a moment when she thinks the Jedi will bolt, instead they slowly follow her lead and sit. Still prepared to fight but open to other possibilities.

“What’s your name?” They ask suspiciously, sunken dark eyes narrowed like they can physically see through any lies Circuit might tell.

“Circuit, I chose it when I escaped.” She watches as the tension eases out of the Jedi, not fully gone but calmed enough that Circuit thinks this will all hopefully turn out alright. “What should I call you?”

“Melody.”

“Melody, please let me guide your path.”

…

They’re still weeks out from the next safe point, where someone else will take over and allow Circuit to find another in need. It’s… well it’s been awhile since she’s run a Jedi. Most of what she sees nowadays are force sensitives with no connection to the order. So she’s not fully prepared for this.

Melody is a force of nature that Circuit hasn’t seen in a long time. She’s about as Jedi as she can be with having been on the run and in hiding. Helpful to a fault, skilled to a degree that leaves people downed before they’re even aware of it. It’s amazing.

She’ll never say it out loud though.

Instead she tosses a ration bar to Melody, pretends she doesn’t see the way Melody’s eyes glass over as the ration bar instead hits the wall near Circuit’s head. Circuit pulls her mask back on, steps back several steps, sits once again as she waits for the Jedi to return to herself.

It was stupid move. She knows better. But she can’t take it back, all she can do is mitigate as Melody’s breath catches in her throat, panic curling her tendrils.

“My name is Circuit. You are in a room on Lothal. We are headed towards a safe point that will take several weeks for us to reach.” Facts, plain and simple. “Can you tell yourself three things you can see?”

Melody’s breath hitches, her shoulders are shaking but Circuit can see her mouthing words to herself. Objects within the room.

“Four things you’re touching?”

She inhales, takes a shuddering breath. “My tunic, skin against skin, the socks I wear on my feet, the fingerless gloves on my hands.”

Circuit is about to continue when Melody holds up a hand. “Thank you, that’s enough.” She sighs, brushing her tendrils back over her shoulder, “I apologize-”

“No, I didn’t think. That one was on me.” Circuit states firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Melody blinks owlishly at her, before giving a small smile and nod of her head. “I understand.”

“Good,” she nods her head before slowly standing back up. “I should go see if I can purchase some more rations.”

Melody blinks again, scrunching her face in confusion before her eyes go to the spot on the wall that used to be food. “Oh… oops…”

…

She reaches out, grabbing Melody’s hand and dragging her up the side of the cliff side. Fala’ven Six is more cliffs than planet but it makes for a good hiding point when the Imperials get too close. Too many crevices for them to accurately search, and they can’t risk an explosion unless they want to take themselves out considering the air itself will light on fire from a single blaster bolt.

It’s a pain though, when you’ve got to rely on a rebreather until you find one of the safe-houses.

She steadies Melody who watches their surroundings more than her own step. On high alert for anything the force might warn her about. Circuit taps her shoulder, signs a quick, “Almost there.” Then continues to guide her through another series of valleys.

Another two hours and they finally reach it. Practically falling in through the doorway just to hit the atmosphere equalizer fast enough.

Melody spits out her rebreather in disgust. “Never have I wondered what those would be like if I needed one underwater.”

Circuit takes hers out with a rough laugh. “You get used to it,” her voice croaks and winces in pain.

Melody frowns at her. “Would you prefer to sign instead? You know I can understand it.”

She shrugs her shoulders. It’s… It’s not a big thing. She’ll never be the same after what was done to her, in so very many ways. This is just another piece. Something lost that she’s still struggling to hold on to. Unable to give in because it feels like that’s letting them win.

Melody doesn’t say anything, just reaches out a hand towards her. Circuit blinks at it, then with a smile reaches out and takes it. Allowing herself to be pulled further into the safety of the base.

…

Another day, another planet. They’re a few weeks late of their original deadline but Circuit got word out about the delay. Now they just need to get there with their new time table. It doesn’t mean that they can’t stop and enjoy some things.

Circuit is about as force null as she can get, so she doesn’t truly understand the connection between the force users and this planet. She knows that every force-sensitive she’s helped needed this stop though. A Force Nexus she was told. Dangerous to those unprepared because of how connected it is to the force.

This place though is hers. She cannot feel it but she knows it. She’s explored every crevice, every inch. Has bleed here, has seen terrible things as much as she has seen good. Now it welcomes her like an old friend. The waters of this cavern lie still, the plants glow to light the path, the wildlife lets them pass without incident. It’s home in a way not much else is nowadays.

She watches silently as tears drip down Melody’s face as she meditates in a place where the light of the sun hits just right through the cracks in the ceiling. Lighting her purple skin to something closer to lilac. She looks healthier, more like how Melody might have looked before even the war.

It’s already been hours but she knows better than to rush any force-sensitive in this kind of place. Not when the visions they see here can be as violent as anything in the real world. Circuit never asks what they see. But when Melody opens her eyes, gaze trained on Circuit like she’s the only thing left in the world, it makes her want to.

She doesn’t. She can’t.

There’s only so much time left before they both have to part ways.

Never to see one another again.

…

They reach the rendezvous without further incident. Melody carries herself straighter, more assured than when they’d first meet. The signs of malnutrition are already on their way to being gone. “Do you know who we’re supposed to meet?”

Circuit shakes her head before signing, “Safer not to know ahead of time.”

Melody hums in thought, then like she’s about to be attacked she whips around to face the doorway. The shock is clear on her face and Circuit is almost tempted to laugh. But it’d be cruel to do that when she knows how likely it is for Jedi to see other surviving Jedi.

The man that steps through the doorway is a familiar one. Dark skin scarred by lighting and prosthetic arms that grip tightly to the long walking stick he uses. One clouded and dark eye meets her own.

“Mace,” Circuit croaks, “Thought you were headed towards Jedha?”

He gives her a slight smile and a raised eyebrow, “I was, though, I’m certain you’re not supposed to know about that,” she grins at him and he sighs, “Cere told you.” Shaking his head in amusement he continues, “This is on my way back to another part of the path.”

“Master Windu,” Melody’s voice breaks.

“Ko Urdia.” Mace’s voice is soft as Melody runs to him, the hug a tight one as she sobs into his shoulder. “I am so glad you are safe, Padawn.”

“My master, she didn’t-”

“I know.” He pulls back and squeezes her shoulder.

“I’ve been going by Melody,” She rubs at her eyes before giving him a watery smile. “She knighted me before everything went to… well, before everything.”

He nods, “Knight Melody, then.”

Her laugh is more of a hiccup.

Circuit’s chest tightens in sympathy. She works the lump out her throat before coughing into her hand to gain their attention. “You’re guiding her to the next point then?”

Mace shakes his head, a dark look overcoming his face. “We lost Point Nexu, I stopped to tell you you’ll have to take your charge a bit farther than expected.”

“Shit, how bad-”

He holds up a hand stopping her question. She closes her mouth, nodding in understanding. The less she knows about it the better. Instead she turns to Melody who's been watching her carefully. “Willing to let me help you along a little farther?”

She smiles, “Guide my path, Circuit.”

So she does.

#star wars #trans clone trooper #original jedi oc #hidden path #my writing #fanfic #sock-writes

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jazlynriddle · 24 days ago

Text

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 20:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: A bit more torture but mostly plot and world building.

Finally, we're back to moving the plot and story along. I revamped a bunch of JK's lore, threw some of it in the trash bin, and came up with my own spin on the rest and created goblin culture, hopefully ya'll like the world building here =D

Also, if anyone's thirsty for pain, I posted a short ass alternate sad ending for Sebastian's questline titled Let's Go, Together. Go check it out if you want to cry.

God, I'm exhausted, I got food poisoning, I think I'm getting a cold too, greaaaat-

I'm also writing another Sebinis AU that features the Keeper as a historical cameo, so readers of this series will (hopefully) understand why the Keeper in that AU is... past-tensed. Good lord, it's already like 20k words and it's still like in the world building and slow... er, medium burn part. If you like Peter Pan (and no, not the Disney version) you'll like this one xD I'll probably upload the first chapter of that new fic next weekend, so please look forward to it! =D

And, at this point, I should probably just fix my upload schedule for this series to once every four weeks, it's been like that for ages now and I can't seem to make my chapters shorter than 10k words x')

“This is all I could find. Seems like he didn't have much left by the time I went after him.” The Keeper dropped a small pouch on the table between them and Mrs. Taylor, their tone slightly apologetic.

They kind of felt like they’d gotten more out of this than Frederick's wife, but if she really needed the money, it'd probably be helpful regardless, the pearls should at least fetch a decent price. The Keeper wasn't exactly an expert, but the yellow tint to the pearly sheen made them likely to be natural pearls, and the gold ring was decently heavy.

“It's alright, I'll come back to give you your share after I sell off what you've found.” She nodded, accepting the pouch and, as she did so, a blue flame burst into being over her hand, startling her.

“Don't worry about that, it's just the contract. Evidence that I've fulfilled my end of the bargain.” The Keeper assured, taking a sip from their glass.

“I- I see.” The lady's smile became uncertain. “Is he-”

She cut herself off and shook her head. “Nevermind, thank you.”

“You're welcome.” The Keeper answered with a level gaze, amused that she clearly wanted and didn't want to know what had become of her husband. Perhaps they'd gotten used to reading that on Ominis’ more controlled face, and could spot it easily on hers. “I look forward to receiving my pay.”

At the clear dismissal, Mrs. Taylor nodded and stood. “I'll be in touch.”

With a last uncertain glance, she left the Phantom’s Flask, and the Keeper moved over to sit at Alasdair's counter, where the bartender gave them a wry smile. “Congratulations on clearing another job. How was your visit to the Rogues?”

“Rowdy.” The Keeper answered with an amused snort. “Think I prefer this place. Drinks are better too.”

A wide smirk covered Alasdair's face. “Flattery won't lighten your tab, kid. Out with it then, what do you want?”

“I don't suppose you know where I might be able to acquire two-way mirrors like Owl's, though I'd prefer a set of three that are linked.” The Keeper asked, stirring their drink idly with the straw.

“Well, starting out with the tough requests, hm? Two-ways are rare enough already, a set of three-way mirrors would be even harder to acquire.” Alasdair chuckled. “But I'm sure you've already guessed as much.”

“Can you help me or not?” The Keeper huffed, not particularly in the mood to play.

“There's only one merchant I know who could have something that rare, but they're involved in an ongoing fight with a fairly powerful enemy, so you might want to be careful when dealing with them.” The bartender warned. “It's not the type of beef you want to get dragged into.”

“Noted.” The Keeper cocked an eyebrow at the man. Well, all they were interested in was trade, so they didn't see how that would be a problem.

“They rent a room on Tuesday nights to do trade, come by during opening hours and you'll find them in room sixteen.” Alasdair jabbed a thumb towards the stairs. “Wear your mask.”

That bad, huh.

The Keeper nodded as they finished up their drink, sliding the glass over to Alasdair and making to stand, when he asked. “Have you ever met a vampire?”

Eyes widening, they shook their head, a vampire, eh? That should be interesting.

“Well, greet them with a bow and don't tilt your head to the side or raise your wrist. Might take that as an offer.” The corner of Alasdair's mouth quirked upwards in amusement.

“I'll keep that in mind.” The Keeper huffed as they stood. “Thanks as always.”

“See you soon, kid.”

The streets of Diagon Alley were about as cramped as one might expect on a Sunday in the middle of the Christmas season, and Sebastian was starting to worry that he wouldn't make it to Gringotts on time for his first lesson with Borgok.

Which would be a pretty piss poor way to start his apprenticeship, so he took a breath and began to shove himself through the crowd. Ignoring the glares from the surrounding shoppers, Sebastian elbowed his way to the bank, huffing and puffing as he struggled against the flow of traffic.

When he finally made it to the large white doors, the bank itself also turned out to be crowded as all hell and, for a moment, Sebastian was worried that he wouldn't be able to find his mentor. Only to breathe a sigh of relief when he spotted the heavy-set blacksmith standing near a counter, speaking with another of his kinsmen, and he quickly waded through the sea of people and goblins.

Fortunately, Borgok seemed to spot him as he made his way over, saving him the awkward task of interrupting the conversation, and Sebastian stopped a few steps away. Leaning against a wall to catch his breath, Sebastian waited for Borgok to finish his discussion, and the other goblin left after a few moments.

“Master Borgok.” Sebastian greeted when his mentor turned to face him, giving him a slight bow of the head in respect.

It still felt odd to regard a goblin with deference, but he knew that this was something he had to get used to, goblins weren't the enemy, and this one would make him more useful to the Keeper. He needed to be useful, needed to take the pressure off them, they were already carrying so much of their future, it wasn't fair for both he and Ominis to need them so much.

The Keeper’s breakdown on Friday had reminded him that they weren't mentally invincible either, even they needed rest, and Sebastian knew that he only got to spend more time with the Keeper than Ominis, because most of it was when they were working.

And they were always working.

Which obviously meant that Ominis was left alone more often than not.

Sebastian had managed to get Ominis to talk about what was bothering him during their walk by the lake, and he'd felt rather stupid when the blond had hesitantly admitted that he was feeling lonely. Of course he was, the throuple could usually spend at least a few hours and mealtimes together every day during previous holidays, this was the first time they'd left Ominis alone for days in a row.

It wasn't fair that Sebastian's own needs were being met - purely because he and the Keeper conveniently took pleasure from working together - and Ominis’ weren't.

So, even though Sebastian loved watching the Keeper work, loved how hot they looked when they were focused, loved how good it felt every time they gave him one of their approving nods. He decided that he was going to do his best to reduce the amount of time that the Keeper needed to spend on work. Ominis deserved to get his relaxing dates with them too.

Hopefully, learning about goblin silver and how it worked would allow him to give the Keeper more time to rest and relax with him and Ominis. It was with this determination in his heart that Sebastian met Borgok's gaze, and a sharp toothy grin of approval spread across the goblin's face. Okay, still kinda unnerving, why did goblins have to have such creepy looking teeth-

“Sebastian, glad you made it on time, punctuality in the face of unexpected adversity is a sign of dedication.” Borgok chuckled, and the pink that had been leaving Sebastian's cheeks immediately returned. “Come, follow me.”

The hefty goblin turned and took a few steps over to the counter and Sebastian followed him with some trepidation.

“Nodrog.” Borgok greeted the goblin behind the counter, who was wearing the uniform of a security guard.

“Borgok, busy morning we're having, innit?” The guard chuckled wryly. “What can I do for you?”

“This is Sebastian.” Borgok gestured at him, before introducing the goblin. “And this is Nodrog, you'll have to get clearance from him to enter the employee's section of the building.”

Sebastian nodded at him in greeting, deciding to go with the standard. “Good morning.”

“So, this is the apprentice, bit younger than I expected.” Nodrog eyed Sebastian critically and he fought to keep his expression neutral, chanting in his head, don't get mad, don't get mad, don't get mad.

The goblin behind the counter then presented him with a ledger and a quill. “Here, you'll need to sign this every time you enter and leave.”

Taking the quill obediently, Sebastian found the first empty row to scribble his name on and, after passing the ledger and quill to Borgok, the security guard offered Sebastian a gold necklace in their place. “And you'll need to wear this.”

The golden chain was not very long, and its links were thick, broad squares, weaved together in an intricate interlocking design. Most prominently, was a curious pattern along the side that was large enough to be seen at a glance, it looked almost like letters, though Sebastian couldn't quite recognise them.

“It's got an identification number on the side. And it's how we'll know you're working here.” Nodrog explained, and Sebastian nodded, taking the chain and fastening it around his neck, rather surprised to find that it wasn't quite as uncomfortable as he'd thought it looked.

“Alright, that's everything settled. Welcome to Gringotts.” Nodrog pressed something on his countertop and the shutter gate beside the counter opened.

“Come along then, lad.” Borgok quipped as he led the way through the gates and down the corridor behind them.

Sebastian followed him for a short walk, and the corridor eventually ended at a chamber with three doors, which were all - oddly enough - lacking handles. The door to the left bore a bronze sheen, the one in the middle, silver, while the third was made of or possibly plated with gold, and Sebastian wondered which they would be entering. Not to mention, what the significance of each differing material was.

The blacksmith lumbered over to the golden door, and as he did, Sebastian noticed that there was a small keyhole set into the door's frame. He watched with curiosity as Borgok lowered his collar slightly to reveal a necklace that looked almost identical to Sebastian’s and lifted one of the golden keys hanging from it.

Sebastian's eyebrows rose when Borgok moved like he was going to pull the key off the necklace, only for the necklace to elongate. The links of the chain unfolded out of themselves elegantly, till the necklace was long enough for the goblin to easily slot the key into the keyhole on the door frame.

The key turned with a click, and a golden circle that Sebastian had previously thought was merely one of the intricate designs on the door's frame, popped out, becoming what was quite clearly a button. Its job done, Borgok released the key from between his fingers and the links in the necklace began folding back into themselves until the chain was once again hanging comfortably from around the goblin's neck.

With wide eyes, Sebastian tugged lightly on his own necklace, observing it as it elongated and then shrank back when he released it. A bright grin spread across his face, okay, that was pretty awesome.

When Borgok then pressed the gold button he'd unlocked, the door slid to the side, revealing its ornate interior to be a very small room lined with golden grilles and elegant frills. So much gold, Merlin, the goblins really liked their precious metals.

For a moment, Sebastian was confused, until he followed the goblin inside and realised that this was an elevator, a rather rare piece of machinery, though it made sense that Gringotts would have plenty. Sebastian examined the slate of buttons on the side, spotting a few with keyholes beside them, the third of which Borgok unlocked with yet another key, and then pressed, causing the doors to close.

With a deep rumble and a jolt, the elevator began descending and Borgok took a small pouch out of his pocket, offering it to Sebastian. “As you might have guessed, the smithy I manage is in the most secure layer, you will need the keys in this bag to reach it for our lessons. You can attach them to your necklace to avoid losing them.”

Accepting the pouch, Sebastian opened it, finding two golden keys and one silver key inside, and he asked, as he removed his necklace momentarily to secure them to the chain. “Most secure layer?”

Borgok chuckled. “Yes, well, I may have neglected to mention that I'm the head of Gringotts’ Diagon Alley branch Design Department, overseeing research and development of Gringotts’ tools, locks, security and machinery.”

Sebastian's eyes widened, so Borgok was a bigshot. Great, that could be a good thing and a bad thing at the same time, a voice that sounded an awful lot like the Keeper’s echoed in his head, followed by one that sounded more like Ominis, better be careful how you behave around him, but Sebastian himself was pretty excited about this, so he shooed the voices away.

If he performed well and managed to win the approval of Borgok and his team, he'd gain connections and it would bolster his credibility, giving his decisions more weight. Not to mention, the things he could learn from them, this was an incredible opportunity that he could still barely believe had landed in his lap. Thanks to the Keeper, as always.

But your stubbornness will be your ruin, you've never gotten on with authority, you're your father's son, after all, the snide voice of Solomon sneered in his mind, you're unteachable.

Sebastian smothered that one aggressively, it only ever came out when the Keeper wasn't around, and he yearned to have them here with him. They always made him feel more confident and assured, even before he'd fallen in love with them. Having their unflinching presence by his side always made him feel like any endeavour was possible, like he could take on the world.

“My smithy team followed me when I took the position, and your training will begin with them till you have enough of the basics to learn from me.” Borgok continued, unaware of Sebastian's internal havoc. “I will introduce you to the team, and then leave you to their care.”

Sebastian nodded, the keys around his neck feeling uncomfortably heavy and anxiety churning in his stomach. Fuck it though, he was going to do his best and he was going to win them over. He had to. Failure was not an option.

Hopefully Borgok would have enough for Sebastian to do - to keep his mind occupied and quiet - it was always less noisy and easier to think when he had a problem to solve or a puzzle to figure out. He felt the vertigo of motion cease, before the elevator doors opened with a clunk, and Sebastian's eyes widened with awe at the incredible sight that was unveiled.

Outside the elevator was an enormous dome chamber filled with large machinery and workshop benches covered in tools. The warm light from the roaring fires peeking out of numerous furnaces, glimmered across the gold and silver strewn about the room. A dozen goblins or so, were either seated at the benches or moving back and forth across the workspace like a well-oiled machine. Some pushing carts of materials and others carrying tools from one place to another.

He could also see several doors along the walls, and vents snaking their way across the ceiling, along with an absolutely chaotic mess of pipes crisscrossed beneath the grates that made up the floor. Oh boy, he really didn't envy whoever's job it was to remember which pipe went where, that looked like an absolute nightmare to manage, maintain, and repair.

If Borgok tried to give him that job, Sebastian would pack his bags and leave.

Said goblin beside him chuckled, and Sebastian jumped, reminded that he was standing in the elevator doorway, staring like an idiot.

“Quite something, isn't it?” Borgok wore a proud smile as he ran his gaze over the room.

“It's incredible.” Sebastian agreed, stepping out of the elevator and returning his attention to his mentor.

“That it is, you should've seen how it looked before I got here.” The blacksmith laughed to himself as he shuffled over to a row of silver lockers beside the lift landing.

“However, the first lesson you must learn is that everything that inspires awe, is also dangerous.” Borgok rapped his knuckles against a pigeonhole locker with the number thirteen engraved on it. “You are not to descend the steps into the workshop, until you have donned the protective gear from your locker. And take off those useless robes, wizarding fashion will cost you an arm down here.”

Sebastian approached his locker and spotted a small keyhole beside the handle, quickly guessing that one of the keys hanging around his neck would likely fit. He tugged the necklace out from under the cotton tunic - that Borgok had instructed him to wear in advance - and pulled on it, still rather taken with how beautifully the necklace stretched, and attempted the smallest silver key, which fit perfectly, and he opened the locker to examine its contents.

At the sound of another locker opening beside him, Sebastian peered at Borgok, watching the goblin don the gear inside his own locker, and Sebastian shucked his robes quickly to copy his mentor.

In a few minutes, Sebastian was decked out with a small pair of goggles that sat snugly over his eyes, a face shield that could be flipped up to sit atop his head when not in use, a thick brown apron that he'd tied around his waist, a pair of safety boots - was that steel covering the toes? Fascinating - and a pair of gloves.

The gloves weren't as thick as he'd expected, but had a mesh design that felt incredibly sturdy. He'd bet good money that these gloves would stop a knife from taking off a finger and Sebastian wondered if he could get a pair of these for the Keeper. He could also feel the pulse of magic in his gear, and he noticed several runes embroidered into the waist-tie of the apron and the wrist cuffs of the gloves.

He was honestly a tad surprised that they would have gear within a human's size range, he'd already given Borgok his shoe and glove sizes, so those were customised as he'd expected, but the rest were adjustable. A rather strange choice of investment.

Finished donning his gear, Sebastian lifted the face shield and closed his locker, hearing it lock automatically, and looked at himself in the reflective surface of its door. Huh, Sebastian grinned, maybe if he showed up looking this professional, Ominis might actually trust him.

He snorted to himself in amusement, yeah, if the blond could actually see him maybe, shaking his head, he descended the stairs to join Borgok.

Fortunately, the goggle lenses seemed to be made of crisp clear crystal, and Sebastian could easily take in the sights as he followed his mentor across the chamber, his steel-toed shoes clanking against the metal beneath them.

“This chamber is the common workshop. Those five doors lead to the workshops for specialisation teams focused on a different aspect of smithing.” Borgok explained as they walked, gesturing to the doors spaced evenly along the dome's walls. “There's the Material team, the Forging team, the Finishing team, the Tooling maintenance team, and my team, the Design team.”

It was a struggle to focus on his mentor's words while goblins bustled around them, and Sebastian's eyes were constantly flickering back and forth as yet another curious machine caught his attention. Wait, was that a cart of platinum!? Sebastian's jaw went slack, an entire cart full!? He suddenly felt rather nervous, if he messed up something here, he might end up costing them more money.

Ugh, was this what being responsible felt like? Sebastian sighed, not fun, but he supposed doing good by his partners was worth dampening his excitement.

“And this is my office, you can seek me out here if you have any issues that your assigned teacher can't address.” Borgok continued as they arrived at a brass door, whose frame was like an oval cut into the wall, and Sebastian thought it a curious design choice.

The goblin unlocked the door with yet another key, and Sebastian frowned as it opened, wondering why he wasn't hearing any jangling, despite the many keys hanging from Borgok's necklace. That, and how his mentor kept track of where each key went, Merlin, there had to be at least ten hanging off the goblin’s neck.

The inside of his office was surprisingly modest, in contrast to how shiny most of Gringotts seemed to be, and it felt less industrial than the workshop outside as well. It was more akin to a Professor's office back in Hogwarts, with a large but low desk on the other end of the room, though it was made of steel rather than wood, and covered with small gadgets, papers and tools.

Borgok lumbered over to it and Sebastian followed him, past an even lower coffee table, surrounded by short yet plush, comfortable looking couches and armchairs.

“Take a seat, while I call my team to the room.” The goblin gestured towards the short stool in front of the desk as he walked around it to sit in the high-backed chair behind it.

As instructed, Sebastian took a seat, though it felt more like he was crouching on the short stool, and Sebastian watched curiously as his mentor reached out to flip up the covers on four... pipes? The four brass pipes were sticking out of the desk and, leaning forward, Borgok spoke clearly and evenly into those four pipes at the same time.

“This is Master Smith Borgok, could the Masters of each department please come to my office? Thank you.” Finishing his announcement, the goblin closed the four flaps and leaned back in his seat to face Sebastian. “They should arrive in several minutes. For today, I will have you spend an hour following each of the four Masters around as they go about their work.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, and his expression must have looked not unlike a warrior going into battle, because Borgok gave him a small smile, saying. “Don't look so worried, they're my friends before my employees, and I can assure you that you will be treated no differently than one of our goblins.”

“Thank you.” Sebastian returned his smile, grateful that his mentor was taking the time to ease his nerves. Still, he'd had enough bad experiences with adults to remain wary, though he supposed he was already considered one himself, by all technicality.

“After you've taken some time with the other Masters, you can come by my office, and we'll speak for a bit about any observations you've made.” Borgok continued. “Though some of my friends might be... strict, I hope you'll be able to learn much from them, though it would probably be prudent to give you some warning.”

“Warning?” Sebastian echoed warily.

“Yes, see, amongst goblins, we men commonly handle interactions with Wizardkind, your people aren't very... tolerant towards our women.” Borgok flashed a wry smile. “Of course, I don't understand it, I think our goblette ladies are absolutely lovely, but humans seem to find them rather... scary.”

Sebastian's eyebrows raised, even more so than goblins!?

“And our culture is normally one of express honesty. Humans in general seem to think that ‘polite’ means lying. In contrast, when we goblins feel a certain way, we will make no attempts to hide it, out of respect to those around us. The more we care about each other, the more effort we put into being our authentic selves.” Borgok explained, and Sebastian felt something stir inside him, he really liked the way that sounded.

“However, humans... they take offence too easily, and when our women show anger, it can put them in grave danger.” The goblin sighed. “So, us men, the physically stronger and less... ugly by - human standards - handle interactions with humans. And I won't lie, it's... painful to suppress our emotions the way humans do.”

Sebastian winced in sympathy, he knew what that felt like, that sounded rough indee-

The door slammed open with a clang that echoed through the room, and Sebastian jumped, spinning around to stare with wide eyes as a foot hovered in the doorway for a moment. Before it lowered to the floor and a goblin - just a tad shorter than Borgok - entered, wearing an admittedly, rather terrifying scowl.

“The blazes are ye doin’ callin’ me in the middle o’ engraving!?” The goblin's voice was slightly higher in pitch, though no less rough than Borgok's, with a hooked nose that pointed upwards rather than down, long brown hair tied up in a tight bun and twice as many wrinkles as the average goblin. “You gonna do me last twenty hours o’ work if I botch the batch, eh Borgok!?”

“Melain, my friend, please, we should give young Sebastian a chance to get used to dealings with fine ladies like yourself.” Borgok sighed, and Sebastian blinked, so that was a goblette. Merlin’s beard, she did look terrifying indeed, were those tusks peeking out from her lower lip!?

Another goblin shoved past Melain, this one was a little taller than her but also had long hair - blonde this time - in a braid, another goblette, from the wrinkles and long fangs. This one flashed Borgok a sharp grin, revealing two rows of teeth that were even more jagged than his, as she scoffed. “And that's our problem, how?”

“Rozen is right. If the boy wants to learn from us, he'll have to get accustomed to our customs.” Came a flat and uninterested statement from a bespectacled goblette with her black hair in a messy bun, who strolled past the others, staring at a clipboard in her hands as she absently took a seat in one of the armchairs. “Jason managed without any coddling.”

“That's very kind of you to say, Loleu.” The next person to enter was - to Sebastian's surprise - a human. The man's voice was deep, and his warm blue eyes followed the goblettes as they seated themselves.

He was also intimidatingly tall, at least a head taller than Sebastian, and he was large and muscled, with cropped dark brown hair that was almost as messy as Sebastian's own, wearing the same apron around his waist and the same gloves too. He had a strong square jaw that made Sebastian think of muggle soldiers, and there were numerous scars crisscrossing across the thick arms, showing under his rolled-up sleeves.

A part of Sebastian wondered if he would eventually look... like that, after working here for a while. Would Ominis and the Keeper like that? If he had big muscles to touch? It would be pretty cool if he could carry Ominis bridal style one day.

Catching Sebastian's curious eyes, Jason grinned broadly and strode towards him, saying. “Hey there, Sebastian, right? I'm glad to see the gear fits! I thought it should - from your shoe and glove sizes - but one can never really know in the wizarding world.”

Jason chuckled as he offered his hand for a shake, and Sebastian couldn’t help but feel some relief at seeing a gesture he knew how to respond to. Standing and taking the hand, Sebastian smiled. “So, I have you to thank for the gear. You have my gratitude, I must admit, I'm surprised to see another human.”

At his words, the three goblettes on the couch began to snicker and Jason chuckled as he released Sebastian's hand. “Not quite, I'm a werewolf.”

Sebastian's eyes widened and Jason gave him a rueful smile. “The Ministry doesn't make it easy for my kind to make an honest living, Master Borgok was kind enough to give me a chance when he saw the craft I was trying to sell.”

Sebastian followed the werewolf's grateful gaze to the goblin in question, and Borgok shrugged. “I didn't have enough coin on me, so I offered to teach him, in exchange for what I needed to buy. Saved me the embarrassment of showing up to my mother’s without a gift.”

“Luckily for me.” Jason chuckled. “I trusted his word and let him leave with the artpiece, even though I was raised to see goblins as uncivilised. And it was the best decision I've ever made.”

“We simply see no point in denying merit when we see it. Effort should always be met with equal appreciation, and it is an insult to give more - or less - than fair, in exchange for work.” Borgok paused with a bitter smile. “That's all we ever wanted from Wizardkind, to be viewed with the appropriate recognition for our hard work and efforts. But humans value results over effort. I will never understand such a way of thinking.”

Sebastian felt something clench in his chest at those words, that's right, that's all he ever wanted too. For his uncle to respect him, for his efforts to be recognised. Did it matter if he failed? He was trying. Could Solomon not see that? Did he not care? Sebastian could have had everybody in Hogwarts admire him and it wouldn't have been a substitute for his uncle's recognition and support.

He bit his lip, heart aching, until he thought of the Keeper. They hadn’t given a fuck when he failed, and so spectacularly at that. They saw how much he cared, how hard Sebastian was always trying. Always. Trying to be strong and confident, trying to look and feel like he knew what the fuck he was doing. Perhaps it would hurt less if he could just show his honest feelings without need for hiding, like the goblins did.

They may look scary, but their hearts weren't very different from his own, it seemed.

Maybe it wasn’t so strange that Ranrok's Loyalists were all goblin men, they were the ones who had to endure humanity's farces and toxic masks. It made Sebastian feel a strange guilt, that those goblins had just been infected by human poison. The same poison he himself had been choking on. He'd been taking his anger out on people who were in the same boat that he'd been in for years.

“Because the goblin way makes sense.” Loleu muttered, flipping a page on her clipboard and pulling a... pen, out of the mess pretending to be a bun on her head, to scribble something on the clipboard. “Jason made an excellent recovery and great progress under our care.”

“My dear, you'll make me blush.” Jason grinned sheepishly.

“Maybe I want to.” Loleu tossed back with a smirk, as she shoved her pen back into her bun.

“Urk- gross. Yer flirting'll give me hives.” Melain stuck out her tongue and Rozen snickered.

“It's not flirting, get your head outta the gutter.” Loleu rolled her eyes. “So, what's the plan, Master Smith?”

Borgok cleared his throat. “Yes, first, let me introduce my Masters.”

Sebastian sat up a little straighter and followed Borgok's palm as he gestured from the left to the right.

“Rozen is the Master in charge of Raw Materials, she handles refining and smelting raw ore from the mines, for use in forging.” The blonde goblette gave him a rather unsettling grin, but Sebastian bowed his head respectfully. He was just going to have to get over his discomfort, Jason managed, he could too.

“Jason is the Forging Master, he manages our forgers and they handle the conversion of ingots into the rough designs my team and I develop.” The large werewolf waved cheerfully, and Sebastian grinned back at him, he had a feeling the man would be a fun teacher.

“Melain is the Finishing Master, her team makes the finishing touches on every piece of work that leaves the forges. Engraving, polishing and all the detailed work.” The brunette goblette gave him a curt nod and he already felt like she would be the scariest teacher in the group.

“And finally, Loleu, our Tools Master, ensures that our forge is running around the clock. Maintaining or replacing any machinery or tools necessary for us to work.” The bespectacled goblette didn't even look up from her clipboard, simply sending a small wave in his general direction.

With the introductions done, Sebastian glanced at Borgok who moved his hand towards the blonde goblette, saying. “So, for starters, I'll be handing you off to Rozen, she'll introduce you to her line of work, before handing you over to the next Master.”

The blonde goblette sighed and stood. “Come on then, lad. Time's a wastin’.”

Giving Borgok a nod of farewell, Sebastian followed Rozen out of the room, his earlier trepidation returning as he did, still not entirely sure what to expect.

Returning to Borgok's office four hours later, Sebastian rapped his knuckles on the brass door and waited for Borgok's invitation. “Come in.”

Dutifully pushing the door open and poking his head inside, Sebastian saw the Master Smith scribbling on some papers at his desk, and Borgok spared him a glance, before returning his attention to his work. “Please take a seat on the couch, I'll be ready to speak with you in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Master Smith.” Sebastian nodded as he closed the door behind him and took a seat on one of the couches, slumping into the low cushion with a tired sigh. Merlin, that had been more exhausting than he'd expected.

His long tour had begun with Rozen had showing him to the Refinery Chambers, which - contrary to their name - were not mere chambers, but in fact expanded rooms so large that he wasn't even able to see the ceiling.

The Sifting Chamber held mountains, and he meant mountains of reddish-brown grains of iron, silver and gold. Apparently, they would grind up the raw ore transported from the mines and then use magnets to sift the iron from the dirt, and large gallons of water to wash dirt from gold and silver.

Rozen had given him a mask to wear over his nose and mouth, so he wouldn't choke on the fine dust, and Sebastian had commented that that would be a rather... fine way to die. Which had earned him a round of laughter from the crew nearby and a couple of hearty slaps on the thigh from Rozen. Which kind of hurt.

The Chemical Chamber had been rather pungent but was apparently vital to cleaning impurities from the precious metals between the various phases of smelting. Said connected Smelting Chamber had been extremely hot, enough that he could feel the burn on his skin despite the protective charms on his gear, and Rozen had told him that the temperatures in the coke coal forges reached almost half the heat of the sun's surface itself, according to recent muggle findings.

Sebastian had been admittedly awestruck when Rozen handed him a monstrously heavy ingot of pure gold, he'd almost dropped the tiny thing when she first passed it to him. However, the most exciting part of that hour had been watching the first phase of the process of enchanting the silver ingots to convert them into Goblin Silver.

Apparently, goblins could hear something that humans couldn't, or at least Sebastian hadn't heard shit when Rozen tapped a silver ingot with her hammer and went. “Ya hear that? When the silver sings like that, ya know it's good fer enchantin’.”

She'd tossed the ingot into a crucible with moonstone, before removing her glove and pricking her finger with a needle from her pocket, adding a drop of her own blood to it. Before handing Sebastian a stack of already cooled enchanted silver ingots, which had a blue sheen reminiscent of moonstone itself, to carry with him to his next stop.

He'd been relatively unsurprised by the addition of goblin blood to the mixture, their race had always been the least unsettled by blood magic.

Then, she'd dropped him off at Jason's forge, where the man had happily invited Sebastian to watch him forge a shield that'd been commissioned for a noble family, from the ingots that Sebastian had carried over. The werewolf had shown him how to get an ingot safely clamped between tongs and slide it over the burning coal furnaces to heat the metal evenly, before it could be hammered into the appropriate shape.

It had been rather amusing, how excited Jason had been to introduce one of the newer machines in the forge.

Apparently, the Power Hammer was based off a state-of-the-art piece of muggle machinery, it linked a spinning clutch with a hammer that would bounce on leather springs once engaged. It had been invented by a muggle designer named Christopher Bradley only a year ago, and Jason had chuckled as he described how enraged Borgok had been that a muggle had out-designed him with such a brilliant tool. One that would significantly reduce the amount of magic needed to power the process.

The werewolf had instructed Sebastian to lower his face shield as he hammered the metal into shape, folding it several times to improve its durability.

Sebastian had then asked, as Jason hammered away without anything protecting his face. “Why aren't you using a face shield?”

“Because I know what I'm doing.” Jason had answered with a grin.

“I'm a quick learner.” Sebastian hadn't been able to resist shooting back.

“That's what Greg said.” Jason had laughed, before turning to the side and shouting to be heard over the hammering of metal. “Hey Greg!”

“What?” Came the reply from one of the goblins nearby, who'd lifted his own face shield to reveal a large scar over his left eye.

“Tell the kid how you lost your eye!” Jason had called back.

The goblin cackled and flashed the wide-eyed Sebastian a sharp grin, shouting back. “Corner o’ coolin’ metal snapped off while hammerin’ and flew in me face!”

At his words, Sebastian had eyed the red-hot metal that Jason was hammering warily, and the werewolf cheerfully added. “Besides, if I mess up and injure myself, that's fine. But if I mess up and injure you, well, bugger me. So, keep that shield down.”

He wasn't sure if this was all a joke, but Sebastian kept his face shield down till Jason handed him off to Melain. Who quickly gave Sebastian her own variation of the same warning and told him to stay outta her way while she finished scraping, polishing, and engraving a goblet of goblin silver.

He'd watched with fascination as she sang in Gobbledegook under her breath, while etching little runes that glowed under her chisel. This was apparently the last step in enchanting Goblin Silver, which was why Jason was able to handle forging, despite not being a goblin. The main components were goblin blood, added during the smelting, and then runes charmed with goblin song and etched by goblin hands.

Sebastian was slightly disappointed that it wouldn't be possible for him to just make Goblin Silver for the Keeper, but he supposed if it were that simple, it wouldn't be so damn rare and expensive.

The blonde goblette hadn't given him much instruction or introduction, so focused she'd been on her work, but he'd found it enlightening to watch her all the same. While the Raw Materials were taxing and laborious to refine repeatedly, and forging required both immense strength and aim, finishing was no less difficult, and demanded intense focus and finesse. Not to mention, the amount of pressure there must be on the finishers to not waste all the work that had already gone into an item.

Loleu had dropped by to pick him up, correctly guessing that Melain was too caught up in her craft to remember his existence, and the black haired goblette had brought him to her workshop. Which... looked like an absolute nightmare. Machinery laid about in varying states of disrepair, an entire stack of spanners and hammers, a pile of screws and bolts was heaped in one corner, with another pile of nuts and gears in the other.

The messy room was apparently the equivalent of a spare parts scrap pile, and Sebastian had thus discovered - when Loleu asked him to pick up a handful of nuts for her - that the necklace of keys hanging around his neck would stay plastered to his chest even if he leaned forward. Which explained why he heard no jangling from the keys.

Loleu had then, absentmindedly told him that the necklace was charmed to stay against his chest so that the keys and chain would not get caught in any machinery or grinders, which would be quite... bad. Sebastian had swallowed at the unsettling thought, and then wondered if the goblette had a second pair of eyes hidden in her hair, since she'd been staring at her clipboard the entire time.

He'd watched as a seemingly endless stream of goblins came into the room, one after the other, to ask for a specific sized screw or nut or a size-sixteen Box-Head Ratcheting spanner or a replacement for a Steam-Powered Mechanical Trip Hammer Piston Assembly. Whatever the hell that last one was.

And every single time, she would simply check her clipboard or skip it entirely and just walk to one of the many piles of scrap, rummage through it for a moment, before returning with the requested item. She'd occasionally ask one of the other goblins in the room to retrieve something from storage, but the sheer amount of things that that goblette seemed to remember herself was somewhere between impressive and daunting.

Sebastian had made a mental note not to let any secrets slip around her. All in all, an exhausting four hours and he felt like, while he'd gotten a good look at what the work here entailed, he still wasn't sure where he fit in all this.

“Alright, my apologies, I had to get these signed as soon as possible.” Borgok sighed, catching Sebastian's attention, and he watched as the goblin set aside his quill, before placing the stack of parchment on a tray. “Come, take a seat.”

Sebastian dutifully made his way to the desk, while Borgok pressed several buttons on the side of the tray and the stack of papers vanished in a shimmer of gold particles.

“So, tell me, how was the tour?” Borgok smiled as Sebastian sat down.

“Incredible really, I never realised so much went into even just preparing the materials to be used.” Sebastian answered, thinking of the construction they'd done on the castle. “I've done conversion of metal ore into usable materials, but only with magic and on a much smaller scale.”

“Yes well, it's less practical to use magic for mass production on the scale Gringotts requires for minting and crafting.” Borgok's smile became bitter. “It also doesn't help that we're denied wands that would make using magic for mass production less dangerous for my goblins.”

Sebastian grimaced at the reminder of the role his people played in the oppression of the goblins, before frowning. “Dangerous?”

“Yes. The amount of magic needed to control fire at the heat of coke coal for example, would strain any goblin's magic and it would only take a slight loss of concentration for it to go wild.” Borgok explained. “A more extreme scenario would be, if an atmosphere change caused the amount of necessary magic to increase while the goblin is already tired, it could require them to strain themselves past magical exhaustion. It's just not practical without wands.”

“I see.” Sebastian nodded slowly. “That's why there isn't much use of magic in the process."

“That is one reason, yes.” Borgok smiled wryly. “Another is familiarity with the Material. And indeed, I was very impressed that you'd managed to craft a blade entirely with magic, but no doubt you noticed that the quality of your metal was nowhere close to the ingots we craft.”

Sebastian blinked. “I thought that was because I was inexperienced.”

“That is not entirely accurate.” Borgok shook his head. “Wizarding magic is capable of... short-cutting a great deal. But a problem that comes with being introduced to crafting by the use of magic, is that you don't learn enough about what you're working with first.”

Sebastian's expression must have shown his confusion, because Borgok chuckled and elaborated. “Essentially, a wizard who already knows how to make a good table, can find a way to make a good table with magic. However, if you simply learn the spell from him, without first knowing how to make a good table, your table will not be as good as his.”

Oh, that made more sense, Sebastian nodded thoughtfully, that was not unlike what Professor Weasley taught about transfiguration.

“In that scenario, the quality of goblin smithing, and even muggle smithing, will always be superior, because knowledge and experience informs what you can do with magic.” Borgok concluded. “There is a difference between lazily enforcing your will on reality, as Wizardkind do, versus moulding reality by working with it, as we goblins do.”

Sebastian hummed thoughtfully, perhaps he should redo the metalwork for the dungeon cell doors, once he was better at forging. The Keeper had done woodwork during their time in the workhouses, so they'd been relatively confident about the wooden doors they'd crafted after additional research and Rackham’s guidance.

However, Sebastian had handled the metalwork for things like torch holders and cell doors, and while it was probably enough that the metal wasn't breakable with inmates’ bare hands, he would feel better having done his best to improve them.

“And that's why you want me to learn all the aspects of forging.” Sebastian nodded.

“Correct.” Borgok gave him an approving grin. “I chose to teach Jason forging because I saw in his art, the hard work, dedication and meticulous attention to detail necessary for a forger.”

The goblin jabbed a finger at Sebastian. “And I chose you, because I saw in that dagger the resourcefulness and determination to make do with what little you have. Your dagger did no more and no less than what you needed it to do, with the bare minimum in skill, experience and materials. That efficiency and creativity is necessary for a designer.”

Borgok grinned, lifting his chin with a touch of pride. “Design comes before everything else. It is the stage where we decide what an object can and will do, whether it is going to be a cursed helm or a blessed goblet. It is where we decide what runes and enchantments will be woven into it.”

With every word, Sebastian felt his heart climb up into his throat, he hadn't thought it possible for him to feel quite so excited about anything besides Dark Arts. The doors of possibility had never felt quite as wide, could he one day even make something like the relic himself? Hang on...

“And that's why Gringotts is partnered with the Ministry overseeing the Curse Breakers!” Sebastian exclaimed in understanding. “Because goblin craft intersects with the enchantment of physical objects!”

Borgok nodded with a pleased curl to the corners of his eyes. “Indeed, there are none quite as skilled in the enchantment of objects as we are, and thus, reverse engineering it is also our expertise. My Design team works closely with the Curse Breakers to break the curses on tombs or objects they attempt to retrieve.”

Sebastian felt like he was close to vibrating in his seat and had to take a breath to calm himself. Alright, he couldn’t screw this up. He was going to be the best damn student Borgok ever had.

“And that's why you asked if I like reading.” Sebastian chuckled, that had been the strangest question the goblin had asked him while discussing his apprenticeship in the Phantom's Flask.

Borgok flashed him a sharp grin. “Design is a highly theoretical field, if you were hoping to get jacked like Jason, you better tell me now, lad.”

Sebastian shook his head with a snicker. “I'm all for reading and calculations. No worries there.”

“Good.” Borgok nodded and pushed a stack of books across the table. “I think that is good enough for today. I'd like you to read these whenever you have time, and when you are experienced enough, I will introduce you to my Design team. I look forward to monitoring your progress, and I'll see you in my office again next week.”

The goblin raised a hand towards him, and Sebastian took it firmly, his eyes bright as he shook hands with his mentor. This was his path, he just knew it. He would become useful to the Keeper, and maybe even find a way to break Anne's curse if the Keeper's Ancient Magic didn't manage to.

His future had never been so bright.

“Sebastian, could you pass me a jar of E-Pain?” The Keeper asked as they fastened the empty Energy collar around Frederick's neck, before doing the same with the equally empty energy armlet, around his upper arm. Hoping to discover the differences between the collar and the armlet with today’s tests on the man.

“Here you go.” Sebastian chirped, tossing them the jar from the pack beside him before returning his attention to the book balanced in his left hand.

The Keeper eyed him with amused fondness in their heart, which book was this one? Minerals From The Mine-rails... presumably about mined minerals. Their adorable lover had been positively jubilant since his first lesson with Borgok, he'd spent the entire dinner last night and breakfast this morning, babbling about his tour and the books he'd been given to read, and he'd been reading every free moment since.

Ominis had told them not to expect anything coherent out of the brunet for the next two days, and he'd been quite correct. Sebastian had been following the Keeper from one place to another, like a duckling, his nose buried in his books. It was nice seeing his impressive dedication on display again and they'd found it cute that he still wanted to join them for their experiments.

Which was quite alright, since they were still in the process of confirming the collar's functions, they weren’t likely to need his mind present.

Though it was frustrating that, through all this time, the Keeper had only made progress increasing the amount of energy they could extract without tearing the Aura. Going from being able to extract a fraction of a needle's pain to being able to extract two needles worth, and even then, that was only because their skill and finesse had improved, not because they'd found a better method.

Then again, Isidora had been a bloody Hogwarts Professor who'd dedicated her entire life to refining this extraction process for mass usage, and she'd given up on preventing Aura tearing. Then again, she hadn't even noticed the tears.

The Keeper sighed, whatever. That was a problem for later, for now they had to continue testing, so they'd be ready for the big Macnair overload test. That was going to eat into their miniscule stash of C-Pain substantially, but hopefully its significantly greater potency will make that small stash go a long ways. Perhaps they might even figure out how Aura tears worked at the same time.

With that, they drew the E-Pain from the jar and inhaled it, closing their eyes and instructing the energy to inject three seconds’ worth if he disobeys instructions. They'd already confirmed that the collar's instructions could be overridden by adding newly Aligned energy - of any quantity - to an already Aligned energy pool, this included instructions to ‘return to neutral’.

Which made it less worrying that they might accidentally contaminate their Repository, at least they could simply revert it to Unaligned by overriding it. Still, they would try not to mix Aligned Energy with their main Repository altogether, so that they would never have to find out of quantity did make a difference on too large a scale.

Exhaling the Aligned energy, they lowered it into the collar and the man flinched as they did so, though he seemed more wary than panicked today, perhaps he had forgotten his fear of pain. No matter, he would no doubt remember soon. Then they extracted a tiny sliver of E-Pain from the jar and added it to the energy armlet this time, without Aligning it.

“Now, Mr. Taylor, do you feel the warmth around your arm?” The Keeper asked idly, and he nodded slowly. “I want you to imagine the warmth as mist and picture yourself breathing it in.”

“Why-” He'd barely gotten the word out, when he was injected by the collar.

“Do it, or you will experience more pain.” The Keeper cocked an eyebrow at him and the trembling man gasped for breath a time or two, before closing his eyes and taking a slower breath.

The Keeper watched with interest as the armlet emptied and, when he opened them, the man's eyes glowed red for a brief moment, a goofy expression of bliss on his face. Ew, gross.

“What- what was- what was that? Can- can I have more-” Frederick stammered, and they glared at him.

“Did you respect your elf's request for more food?” The Keeper asked rhetorically. “What makes you think I'd respect yours?”

They felt some satisfaction when he flinched, and - itching to hurt the man rather than give him anything remotely pleasurable - an idea popped into their head. It was worth testing out, so they inhaled a sliver of E-Pain, instructing it to inject immediately, before exhaling it and placing it in the armlet, rather than the collar.

The man jolted in pain as soon as the energy entered the armlet, fascinating. So, the armlet could allow both absorption and injection, whereas the collar could only allow injection. They wondered what the difference was, and they took a breath as they thought, before it occurred to them, perhaps it was like that.

After all, there was a difference between breathing willingly and at one's own pace, versus having air forced down the throat. Or as with water, one could be thirsty, but would absolutely still choke if someone just sprayed water into their mouth. Perhaps the same applied to the energies, which would explain why the Fear-Pill they'd given Selwyn hadn't boosted his reflexes, only caused him to enter a waking nightmare, because they'd forced it down his throat.

That made sense, though in that case, what about Aligned energy that isn't being forcefully injected?

The Keeper extracted another sliver of E-Pain and inhaled it, instructing it to inject if subject leaves the cell. Then they placed it into the armlet and gave the man a glare when he flinched. “You're lucky I need to test this further, take a breath again.”

Relief coloured his face and Frederick took another breath and, as expected, the energy was absorbed painlessly this time. So, it was possible to absorb Aligned energy as long as it hadn't been instructed to inject, like drinking water from a rushing river by scooping the water into one's hands, perhaps.

They wondered how that might work with the Imperius curse, so the Keeper drew their wand and cast. “Imperio.”

With the man safely under control, the Keeper added another sliver to the armlet and instructed him to absorb it. The energy disappeared from the armlet accordingly, so the Imperius could force someone to absorb-

“Ugh- what-” Frederick groaned, and the Keeper frowned as they felt him break free from the curse. Interesting, E-Pain could increase one's resistance to the Imperius curse? Perhaps because the positive effect of that energy was a boost in magical capability?

Well, while that might cause some complications during Macnair's test, it was good to know, and as of yet, it didn't seem likely to pose an issue. Now, was there anything else they'd needed to test? The Keeper wondered to themselves, and their eyes wandered the cell as they thought, before catching sight of Sebastian, nose still buried in his book, and they recalled his suggestion of using Fredrick’s own pain in the collar.

“Hm, worth a try.” The Keeper murmured, how would they go about it though? Thinking for a moment, they remembered the note they'd found sitting on Frederick's bedside table when they'd ransacked his room, signed off by one Vanessa. Likely the woman he'd been cheating on his wife with.

No surprise really, the Keeper had a hard time imagining anyone being attracted to this guy, perhaps that might be a sore spot worth prodding.

“That reminds me, Mr Taylor, I dropped by the apothecary you worked at, this fine Monday morning. Seems like nobody's wondering where you are.” The Keeper commented idly, watching the man as he stiffened. “Thanks to you stumbling from the Rowdy Rogue drunk last Friday, your boss thinks you might’ve frozen to death on the way home.”

They flashed him a smirk. “I doubt anyone's going to be looking for you, and it's not like you have someone waiting for you back home, after your girlfriend dumped you. Vanessa, right? How sad, to leave your wife, only to lose your dear Vanessa when the coin ran dry.”

The man flinched, and, pressing their wand to his chest, the Keeper drew a stringy blob of red black smoke from his heart. Nice, that hadn't taken much effort. Now, hopefully-

The Keeper felt a sudden burst of heat travel up their wand, so searing that they almost dropped it, and they watched with wide eyes as the strand of E-Pain they'd been extracting from his Aura, seemed to burst into flame. Orange embers chased the energy up from his chest, engulfing the smoky bubbles and turning it into a bright golden thread.

“Sebastian- pass me an empty jar!” The Keeper called as they lifted the orange energy away from Frederick.

Startling at their sudden command, Sebastian almost dropped his book, but quickly caught it and shoved it under his arm. Before following their instructions, grabbing an empty jar and opening it for them to lower the orange energy into.

He stared at it in wonder and murmured. “What is that? It looks almost like smelted gold.”

“I- I'm not sure. It started as E-Pain-” The Keeper breathed, also leaning closer to examine it with curiosity.

As they did so, the jar of E-Pain in their hand was unintentionally brought closer to the jar of orange energy. There was a clink as the glass of both open jars made contact, and to their alarm, the E-Pain promptly burst into orange flames as well.

“Oh, cool, now we have more.” Sebastian quipped with a grin, before frowning. “Wait, that’s not good, is it.”

“No, it isn’t.” The Keeper agreed and took a few steps away from their satchel. “Come here Sebastian, I think it's proximity, we can't let the rest of my E-Pain or C-Pain catch fire too.”

“What do you think it is?” Sebastian asked as he followed dutifully, eyeing the orange-hued gold in the container. “It feels hot, I can even feel it through the jar.”

“Indeed...” The Keeper murmured, examining their contaminated jar. “I was jabbing at his painful memories of his girlfriend dumping him, and it was definitely E-Pain when I extracted it, but it turned into… this, halfway through extraction.”

Sebastian's expression was thoughtful for a moment, before he suggested. “What if it's anger? I mean, I can imagine him being angry at her betrayal.”

“And anger feeds off pain!” The Keeper nodded. “That makes sense, that's why it turned this jar too, anger is contagious and burns through any other emotion. Hm, we'll need to store them in different places then...”

“I wonder what effects this'll have.” Sebastian gave them an impish grin and the Keeper chuckled, holding up their jar with a smirk.

“Only one way to find out...”

Notes:

In this chapter, Sebastian shows a lot of the results of the slow growth he’s made over the course of this story, overcoming his racism against goblins and stepping out from under the Keeper's wing to begin forging his own path. There is a fine balance to strike between feeling nervous about messing up and determination. Kids struggle with that balance.

And finding maturity is sacrificing enough of one's excitement and immersion in something, in order to be cautious and continue to examine the situation from an oversight perspective. It's not a fun feeling, but it's necessary in order to not fuck up. And the difference between a child and an adult is that an adult knows what it means to feel accountable for one's actions and the impact it makes on your loved ones.

At the same time, one must be careful not to let fear stop them either. Too much oversight distance and one might lose the sense of investment and flee before anything can even be attempted. This is equally as bad as throwing all cares to the wind, though it may not appear to be as immediately dangerous as the dangers of having too little fear.

Fear of failure/loss is slow corrosion, but no less destructive than blind fearlessness. This fear of loss is the one I fail at a lot aha ha ha- But, like every teacher has said; Please, do as I say, not as I do x'D

And a thing that I hope people, particularly parents, guardians and mentors can come to understand, is that there is no replacement for you. A child's love for the person who raised them is one of the few bonds that don't go anywhere, even if they feel betrayed by said parents/guardians/mentors. Betrayal hurts because love is there.

Even if a kid cuts contact with their parent, it's not because they stopped loving their parent, it's because they still love their parent, that's why they have to cut contact, because when betrayed, love causes pain. And it doesn't go away. Ever.

The deepest cut a parent can give, is to hurt a child, then blame the child for forcing them to inflict hurt, and then declare that the child doesn't love said parent because the child isn't changing/able to change.

A good parent/guardian/mentor seeks to discover (through observation and conversation with the child, and research on patterns) what a child needs and form fit their approach to each individual child. You may not successfully discover it, we are human and not all knowing, but a child can feel effort.

My mom never discovered what I needed, she was simply not equipped to do so and like porcupines huddling together in the cold, there was much hurt on both sides, until I found it myself. But she tried her best to not make my pain worse and provide what she could, until I found what I needed. So, while she already had my love, through effort, she earned my eternal respect.

Love is given and will always exist once a child has formed a bond with the person/people who raised/care for them. Respect is another thing altogether, that one must be earned. Through a willingness to be vulnerable and honest to those who need you and rely on you. Acting strong, tough and all-knowing like Solomon only hurts those who love you and costs you their respect.

"I will do what's best for you, even if it hurts you. You can hate me, but I'll do right by you." This self-martyring bullshit is just arrogance and self-satisfaction. It only leaves a scar that will never fade and if you don't put in the effort to communicate, they'll learn the lesson the hard way anyway because they don't respect you. You need to earn respect first.

As for the world building in this chapter, my partner is an engineer and works in a semiconductor company, so I used everything I've learnt from their yapping about their work supplemented with the good ol' research mwahahaha

And hopefully you guys like my rationale for why we don't see female goblins in the Potterverse, the culture, and the new OCs! The OCs not gonna be suuuuper prominent in the story, I don't think, but eh, we'll see... xD Some of them have quirks from my partner's whacky colleagues, art imitates life and all that, my partner and I often joke that our lives could make a decent romcom slice-of-life show xP

Put the two of us and my childhood bestie in a room and you have the most writable trio-of-main-characters dynamic, with my stoic unflappable bestie's deadpan commentary, my insane bouncy and random partner, and my passionate speeches and lame jokes. Speaking of which, I hope everyone's been enjoying the puns in my book titles, I love doing that haha-

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #gender neutral mc #mc x sebastian sallow #mc x ominis gaunt #sebastian x ominis #sebastian x ominis x mc #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fanfic #jazlr welcome to your life #jazlr #lgbtqia #nonbinary

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