#I should pack a pack a bowl and take several hits then go to sleep

[princesslink]

…

[i-am-too-sick]

Nov(emeto)ber 2022 Day 5: Away from home

@monthofsick

He'd done this enough times to pretty much have a system down. Little to no sleep from a night spent packing meant he could take one large sleeping pill to knock him out during the flight. He was left groggy upon landing, and his extended nap didn't always help combat the ensuing jet lag, but at least it saved him nearly 10 hours of bad company and even worse in-flight movies.

He closed his eyes again, trying to settle back into his seat. But something wasn't right. On top of the grogginess caused by the pill and waking too early, he also didn't really feel good.

Combating the pull of drowsiness, he tried to take inventory of his body. His skin felt clammy and sticky, and judging from the feel at the back of his shirt, he was starting to sweat through his clothes. That didn't quite compute with his sleep-addled mind because, now that he began to take notice, he actually felt a little cold.

His stomach chose that moment to make itself known, performing such an impressive somersault inside him that he let out a miserable groan. His gut was churning now, enough to make him nauseous.

He'd had a pretty big meal before boarding, knowing that a full belly would surely help him sleep better. He was starting to regret that decision now, figuring that something he'd eaten just wasn't agreeing with him.

It was only when his nausea came to a head that he realized he should probably spare the plane a spectacle.

He stood up quickly, a little unsteady as his head spun. "'Xcuse me," he muttered, forcing his way through two disgruntled passengers to make his way into the aisle.

He was already sitting near the back of the plane, so luckily he didn't have very far to go. But by the time he reached the lavatory door, his hand was already clamped against his mouth.

"Excuse me," he said again, this time to the flight attendant standing in front of the door.

She turned to face him and her expression morphed into one of sympathy. "Motion sickness or food poisoning?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't know yet," he replied, "but 'm gonna be sick."

She nodded, holding the door open for him. "I'll make sure no one bothers you."

Alex stumbled inside the tiny cubicle, leaning over the toilet to spit. Nausea swirled like the water in the bowl, his head spinning along with it, but nothing more came from it.

After what felt like hours and only a couple abortive heaves, Alex decided he wasn't going to throw up. He still felt horrible, but his stomach seemed intent on staying put for now.

Not wanting to hog the bathroom unnecessarily, he stepped out, almost losing his balance as the plane hit a spot of turbulence.

"Sir?"

"I'm okay," he intoned automatically, brushing past the flight attendant.

This time, he barely made it back to his seat. An announcement overhead said they were flying through a storm and that the flight was going to get a little bumpy.

Alex knew what that meant. Before he could sit down, he turned tail and headed back to the bathroom. He knew that "a little bumpy" was code for just the opposite, and he wanted to spare everyone the horrors of being near him when he started vomiting.

He was met with the same flight attendant about halfway down the aisle, though this time, she wasn't going to let him pass.

"I'm sorry, sir. All passengers need to report to their seats and fasten their seatbelts."

"I feel really sick," he moaned, hunching over as his stomach cramped. The remark drew the attention of several wary passengers, some leaning away from Alex in disgust.

"It's for everyone's safety." She leaned toward him, whispering. "There's a bag in the back of the seat in front of you."

Defeated, Alex had no choice but to go back to his seat. He didn't have the energy to argue, and the last thing he needed was to be bouncing around the inside of a plane, especially with his stomach the way it felt.

He made it back to his seat, offering up an apology to those he forced his way past earlier, and curled up in his seat.

He was absolutely freezing. He never remembered being on a flight this cold. He wrapped his arms around himself, listening to the same announcement coming over the loudspeaker.

"Sir?"

Alex looked up, staring across the row at the flight attendant. She reached out, handing him a blanket and a can of ginger ale.

He accepted the items, wondering deliriously if she was some kind of guardian angel.

"You need to put on your seatbelt now," she reminded gently. She handed him a packet of crackers and left to check on the rest of the airplane.

The first thing Alex did was bury himself beneath the blanket. The fabric was itchy and it chaffed his sensitive skin, but it was somewhat warm and he supposed that's all that mattered.

Next was the ginger ale. He was a little worried about that one, but maybe he just needed to put something (else) in his stomach. Planes did weird things to the human body after all.

He forced down about half the can before he just couldn't anymore. The drink made his stomach bloated, which only made him more uncomfortable. He burped, excusing himself.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, knowing the businessman next to him had to be disgusted. Alex knew he'd be if their positions were reversed.

All he received was a grunt in reply.

The forewarned turbulence started almost the moment Alex closed his eyes. Even with the sleeping pill still running through his system, he wasn't sure he'd been getting anymore rest until they'd landed.

Every bump and every jolt sent his stomach creeping further and further up into his throat. He swallowed down a rush of acid, coughing at the bitter taste.

He groaned, stomach cramping. Looking up, he saw the seatbelt sign was still on, but he really needed to get to the bathroom. The ginger ale bubbled and churned in his stomach, another burp burst from his lips.

Without an apology this time, he simply doubled forward, resting his head against the seat in front of him.

"Oh, I don't feel good..."

From out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw his neighbor stiffen. The man was probably just as eager to get off the plane now as Alex was.

His shoulders jolted with a nauseous hiccup that he muffled into his fist. It felt like the plane dipped slightly, Alex's stomach moving in the opposite direction. He groaned, knowing he had no other choice as he reached out for the sick bag in front of him.

The turbulence and his body's betrayal made his fingers clumsy and for several tremulous seconds, he struggled to get the bag open. His breathing was ragged as he fought through the nausea, the heat of fever burning him from the inside out.

Alex brought the long, tube-shaped bag up closer, saliva dripping down as he parted his lips over the opening.

A sudden jolt of turbulence finally had him heaving, a gush of sick spraying past his lips, splattering into the bag below.

A few startled gasps and noises of displeasure echoed through the seats around him, but Alex paid them no mind as he gagged again sharply, another rush of vomit cascading from his mouth.

He couldn't remember what he'd had to eat, or even when he'd consumed something last, but whatever it was, it tasted awful. Acid splashed the back of his throat and he coughed, trying to hold back his next heave.

"Sir, can I get you some water?"

Alex turned his head just slightly, though his vision swam anyway, and he bit back a groan. It was a flight attendant, a different one from before. They were saying something, their mouth moving as they frowned, but Alex couldn't hear over the roar in his ears.

His head felt like it was full of cotton, and he was shaking, though he didn't know if it was fever chills or exertion from vomiting. A cramp ripped through his abdomen, and Alex snapped his head back over the barf bag just in time to catch the next wave that erupted from him.

The seatbelt, draped across his lap, wasn't tight in the slightest, but it was an added pressure against his bloated stomach and made him all the more uncomfortable. His body was sticky and drenched with sweat, his head pounding now that dehydration was a real threat.

He was allowed a brief reprieve from vomiting, his breathing ragged as bitter-tasting saliva dripped and dangled from his chin. He didn't dare look out the window, worried the view would set off his stomach once again.

"Are you done yet?"

Alex didn't even have to look to recognize the voice of the uptight businessman beside him. While insensitive, Alex couldn't really blame the guy, not with his puking out his brains and their whole aisle smelling rancid.

"Sorry—" he started, belching up a stream of vomit before he could finish his thought. It was fine; he wasn't really sorry anyway.

Despite how much time he actually had left in the air, Alex knew the last leg of his flight was bound to be a long one.

[highlordofkrypton]

the justice league's moms' book club's guide to vampire slaying, a martha kent, alfred pennyworth, atlanna & hippolyta fanfic

Chapter 1 - Martha Kent

Note: I got hit by the kudos bot, so if any of you just want to send a click my way to try and even the hits out, that would be so appreciated 😭 The inverted discrepancy stresses me out!

“Ma! Where’s my—”

“In the key bowl!”

With a crack and a spark, Barry appears out of nowhere with a short breeze chasing after him. He grabs the small silver bracelet with a grin, wiggling it at the older woman in the kitchen. “Morning, Ma!”

“Clark, I got it!” He yells before disappearing again and she has to sprawl across all her lightweight cooking paraphernalia before they join him somewhere up the stairs.

The Kent farmhouse isn’t as loud as often these days, but when it is, Martha cherishes it. She fills the house with the smell of pancake, bacon and eggs when she would otherwise make herself a relatively plain oatmeal with just a dash of sugar and whatever fresh fruit she can find. When the season’s good, she can pluck them right off the bushes she keeps close to her house. They aren’t tall enough to reach her kitchen window yet, but she hopes Clark can enjoy them the day they do.

A big breakfast is the only way to get Clark up on time without marching up to his room. The boys had stayed up late—their easy going evening had been interrupted by people in need. As soon as the meat began to crisp up on the pan, the upstairs floorboard began to creak with signs of life.

Her hair stands on end from the sudden loom of static in the air. Barry returns, a big grin on his face and asks, “How can I help?”

“Most of it’s already done, dear,” she motions to the spread across the kitchen island. Along with breakfast, there are piles of packed food waiting for their lids. “Plus, you already did this morning. You sleep-Flashed. If the greens aren’t to your liking, that’s all you.” She smiles and herds the sheepish speedster to his stool.

Martha piles a mountain of food on Barry’s plate. Cooking for Clark is enough to feed several grown men, but with Barry here, she’s made enough food for a whole village. In short, this should last Barry a day if he doesn’t pace himself. No matter how much time it takes and how many bags of groceries she needs, Martha would do it again.

“These are for you to take home. The three containers here are freezer friendly, so you can freeze them until Hal comes back from,” she pauses, trying to remember the very specific sequence of letters and numbers of the planet Barry’s husband is currently visiting.  “Space,” is what she lands on. “The rest is for you and Kom, except this one which is for little Dexter.” Martha holds up a small container meant for Barry’s sweet cat. The odds are that Komand’r might get into it first, but at the very least, Martha tried.

“No, yeah, you didn’t need to do that,” Barry chirps between bites with a smile on his face. “But thanks, Ma.” He reaches out to give her a one-armed hug, and Martha Kent lingers longer than usual. 

“I know I didn’t, but I wanted to,” she counters easily. Her own plate is a napkin on the corner of the counter where she piled all bits that fell apart in the cooking process. 

Ever since Clark found his partner-in-heroism, Barry has become a second son to Martha. She cares for him deeply, and worries about him just as much as Clark. She remembers all his important days, shows up whenever she can and offers her home whenever he wants it. So, if Clark’s getting food for the week, then Barry gets some, too. 

At times like these, an easy morning chatting around the kitchen island about their loved ones, Martha misses her husband. Look, our family’s growing, she longs to tell him. She will, one day, but for now, she keeps making memories to cherish on both their behalf.

Clark stumbles down the stairs, the hood of an extra sweater dangling on his head and luggage in hand. While he could accomplish everything at lightning speed like Barry does, he prefers doing everything the good old fashioned way. He sets his bags down at the door next to Barry’s; Martha hadn’t even noticed Barry was already packed. 

“Good morning, Clark.”

“Mornin’, Ma,” he says, planting a kiss atop her head. 

“Your plate’s over there, and your food for the week’s nearly packed. This side’s yours and the other one’s Barry’s.” She motions to the bounty before them.

“Hey! Why’s his pile bigger than mine?” Clark munches on a fluffy piece of pancake.

“Because they’re for his family, too. If you were dating, you would have a bigger pile.” Martha hums.

Clark sighs, and turns to Barry. “What’d I do to deserve this?” 

The smile on his face doesn’t fade, though. Clark and Martha have been waiting for the day their little unit would grow, and it did by way of friends who’ve quickly become family. Her jabs are meant to tease, never to harm. 

“I’m not involved in this,” Barry concedes, already on his second plate.

“Alfred has two grandchildren,” she points out. 

“Yup, you’re totally involved,” Clark agrees with her. It’s not like he’s in the running. He’s not ready; being the fun uncle until he decides what he wants to do with his life works for Clark. 

Barry chokes and sputters, and Clark helps him out with a hefty pat on the back. It dislodges the food caught in his throat as he tries to explain that he’s ‘ totallytalkingaboutitwithhisfamilyhe’sjustnotsureifhe’sreadyyet’. He speed talks through the rest of his explanation—something to do with space politics before Ma intervenes with a soft laugh.

“I’m just teasing you, Barry. Take your time and chew.” In the meantime, she will spoil her children, and their furry children, and Alfred’s grandchildren. 

The kitchen island is the hearth of her home. With a warm cup of tea cupped between her calloused hands, she listens to Clark chatter away with his best friend. Their conversations often dance across several topics from the last ball game between the Stars and the Meteors, to the stars and meteors themselves—Hal has discovered a whole new planet made of constellations with a meteor belt—and a hundred other things Martha doesn’t follow. She’s happy to be enshrouded by their happiness. 

Before long, the dishes are cleaned with lightning speed and the food is packed into their respectful parcels. Kisses are pressed to her cheeks, along with well-wishes and promises to visit soon, but not too soon. She’ll be busy this week.

“I didn’t see braised beef packed, I swore I smelled some,” Clark hums, cocking a dark brow in his mother’s direction.

“It must have been the neighbour’s,” she smiles easily and nudges him out the door. “Travel safe. Message me when you both get home.”

One, two, three… Several heartbeats later, Martha retreats back into her home. She unhooks the landline, turning the dial and letting the phone ring. 

“It’s me. They’re gone.”

photo credit @ benjamin davies

[mommymooze]

Can You See What is Growing Before Your Eyes?

seteth & Flayn, Reader & Flayn, Seteth X Reader

Sitting on the fishing dock as the sunset blazes across the skies, it is quiet and peaceful in the monastery. You can almost imagine there is not a war going on, that the Imperial army isn’t marching towards your location to attack you and your friends who have arrived for the Millennium festival. Your thoughts are peaceful as you observe the rose and orange colored skies reflected in the pond Your bobber floats motionless on the calm waters.

“Are the fish biting?” Flayn calls from the far side of the water.

Just as she speaks your bobber begins to twitch. You hold up a finger with one hand as you grasp your pole more firmly in the other. Watching, waiting, suddenly the red and white float goes under, you jerk the line, hooking the fish. It is a short battle, the bullhead gives up quickly.

“It’s about average.” You answer as you look over your basket. “I have 15 fish, so after a few more I will bring them to the kitchens.”

“How are you able to catch such an abundant amount? My brother and I would be here for half a day or more and still not catch that quantity.” Flayn chides, her hands on her hips.

“If I had any fishing secrets, I would not hesitate to share them with you and Seteth.” You smile.

“Perhaps I shall watch you and learn of your mysterious technique.” Flayn decides, sitting on an empty crate nearby.

Retrieving and rebaiting your hook, you toss it back into the water, causing ripples to spread across the pond. You sit, still as a statue. Out of the corner of your eye you watch Flayn switch the position of her legs, then look around, fix her hair, and otherwise appear bored. You have not moved, except to shoo a bug from getting close to your eye. Even that movement was performed slowly and silently.

The bobber twitches in the water, moves left, stops briefly and heads right. It becomes halfway submerged, only to pop back up again immediately. You do not move. It begins moving away from your position. Just as it submerges you yank the line and are fighting the hooked fish. The fish jumps, trying to get away, however you keep steady with your pull on the line, hauling it closer to the dock.

“A golden fish!” Flayn excitedly laughs.

Hauling your catch close to the dock, you grab the fish by its jaw, remove the hook and secure it in your bucket.

“That one will pay for the accompaniments to an excellent fish stew!” You announce, beginning to pack up your fishing equipment.

“I did not see anything special about your technique. You used a worm and I saw no special powder or magic cast upon it. Strange.” Flayne ponders.

“First, you must learn to be one with the water. If it is still, you must be still. If it moves, you can move. The fish will be disturbed by your wiggling, especially on the dock.” You share your wisdom with the lovely young lady.

“I will have to tell my brother of this discovery, and that we will be having a fine fish stew this evening. Thank you!”

Selling your fish in the market, you take the rest to the kitchens. The cooks are thrilled to be able to provide a hearty and protein filled meal to the masses, there will be enough to go around. More and more people are arriving at the monastery to assist with the war efforts.

After returning your belongings to your quarters you head to the Cathedral to give prayers of thanks. Thanks for the food today, for so many willing to help defend the church, for the return of so many students and for the return of Professor Byleth. Now that they are back, hopefully they can lead the church and Blue Lions to victory. Your mind falters at that, observing the wounded and broken man that Dimitri has become. You watch as the Professor approaches him, trying to speak to him, trying to get him to eat. The conversation is one sided. Dimitri says nothing. Your eyes go wide as he leaps at the Professor and throws them against a stone column, then returns to his place at the crumbled goddess statue.

Without thinking you run to Byleth’s side. You are well within Dimitri’s range, but your focus is Byleth. Their head is bleeding, and they are moaning. Quickly you heal the head wound. It is not deep, however there is a lot of blood. You struggle to drag them further from Dimitri to a safer part of the Cathedral.

“Professor, can you hear me? Please?” You whisper to them, your voice shaking. They’ve just returned from being gone for five years, it would be horrible to lose them again so soon.

The professor shakes their head. “I am okay. He caught me off guard.” They answer as you help them to their feet.

“Can I take you to the infirmary? Do you have pain elsewhere?” You anxiously ask as they lean on you slightly while you hold their arm, walking to the pews.

“I am alright.” They nod. “My head was hit. I may have a bruise or two, nothing that will not be fine by tomorrow.”

“If you are sure. There is no need to suffer with pain if we can help.” You smile.

Professor Byleth heads back to the bridge leaving the Cathedral, refusing your offer to accompany them. You remain, offering further prayers for Byleth’s health and healing for Dimitri.

You return to the infirmary, your home away from home. Manuela is no longer here, she sided with the Empire. Being thrust into the position of one of the main healers, you remain out of battle, dealing with the injured soldiers. Before the war you worked your shifts in the infirmary, Manuela handled the serious cases.

When the war started, everyone fled the monastery. You packed more books on healing and treatments than you did clothes. Seteth encouraged you to lead the healers for the Knights of Seiros. Every place you travel, you consult with other healers in the area, trying to increase your knowledge as well as theirs. You hope you are adequately filling the shoes he sets forth.

At the infirmary desk you pull out the file for Byleth and make a note regarding todays treatment. When the Knights of Seiros returned to the monastery, you were happy to find many of the medical notes still here. Thieves must not have a use for them. All potions, salves, bandages, and lotions were gone. You have been working with several other clerics building up your inventory.

A sudden knocking brings your attention to the door of the infirmary.

“Greetings. I see you have no patients today, I hope everything is well.“ Seteth bows.

You look up at the handsome man in the doorway. “Good afternoon, Seteth. Byleth was injured by Dimitri earlier. If you see them, make certain they are not hiding any injuries I was unable to find.”

Seteth nods, “I understand your concerns. There are many that take care and have themselves treated properly. Then there are others, I understand your concerns.” He smiles, “Flayn said you were fishing earlier.”

“Yes. I am not a hunter, however I do want to do my part to keep the food stores filled. An army marches on its stomach.” You answer as you file papers in the cabinet.

“Flayn advises you are considerably successful at fishing. Perhaps I can join you and observe your techniques.” Seteth smiles, it makes him even more handsome.

“I am no master fisherman. Flayn simply is not patient, she can’t hold still.” You laugh. “I have seen you fishing with Alois. You would be more successful if he was not there, he is rather boisterous.”

“True. I suppose I like to fish because it is relaxing. These are stressful times. I do hope you are taking care of yourself too.” Seteth answers, a bit of authority creeping back into his voice.

“Noted, sir.” You nod, then begin to unpack dressings and filling the cabinets.

“I am asking you to take care of yourself as a friend. We have worked together for these many years. I’ve seen you exhaust yourself taking care of the knights.”

“War is not conducive to sleep. I will sleep when the war is over.” You chuckle. “Besides, when I finally do leave to find rest, I notice there is still candlelight coming through the windows of your office. Perhaps you should lead by example, my friend.”

“Touche!” He chortles. “I will put in further effort.” Seteth nods, returning to his office.

You treat minor cuts and bruises the remainder of the afternoon. Flayn stops by and asks you to join her for dinner. After all, you were the one that provided the ingredients for this evening’s meal. You promise to meet her after restocking the supplies.

In the dining hall you take your bowl of fish soup and look for Flayn. She is sitting next to her brother and waving for you to join them. You take a seat opposite them. She is easily excited.

“I am so happy that you are able to join us.” Flayn smiles.

“It is important to keep your body healthy and nourished.” You nod and smile softly at Seteth. You are happy to see him in the dining hall. He has had too many meals in his office, overworking himself.

“Yes. An army runs on its stomach, and it is important for everyone to eat properly, especially those that support the army.” Seteth tells Flayn, encouraging her to eat.

“Does that mean I can have seconds, brother?” She asks, sucking in her cheeks a bit to appear more undernourished.

“Only after everyone else has had a portion.” He waves his spoon around the room at the other diners.

Flayn pouts.

Observing her sad face, you have an idea. “If you would like, we can fish tomorrow early in the morning and hopefully catch more for a fine fish dinner.” You pat her hand that is resting on the table.

Flayn’s face now wears a huge smile. “Really? I am excited! You can teach me more fishing techniques. Oh brother! Maybe you can join us?” Both of you look at him, a hopeful smile on your faces.

Seteth’s brow furrows. “I will have to check my schedule. I will see if I can make the time.”

The next morning you get up at dawn to head to the woods, digging up earthworms and grubs for bait. The ground is still moist from the rains and the worms are close to the surface. You have plenty for everyone, including Byleth, who you share bait with frequently. They buy bait from the merchants when they are out, and every coin is needed for the war.

The day is slightly windy, causing the water to dance on the pond. The sunlight sparkles on the surface as the sun rises higher in the sky. Flayn joins you. Instructing her on proper baiting of the hook you remind her to sit as still as possible. You sit far enough apart to softly talk, yet not interfere with each other’s quest for fish.

Flayn has been listening attentively, her basket of fish is proof of her improvement. She brings a fish to you that has swallowed the hook and you show her how to use a tool you’ve made that will help loosen it. Instructing how to slide her hand down the fish so she will not be pricked by the fins, then use the tool to release the hook. Suddenly a shadow is blocking the sunlight over your shoulder.

“Good morning, brother. We are having a marvelous time fishing!” Flayne giggles.

“I can see that. You both have a surprisingly large catch. Perhaps there are many secrets you can pass along to us.” He smiles at you. That is a very handsome look on his face.

“I would be happy to help.” You smile as Flayn puts her fish in her basket and baits her hook for the next catch. “I have a nice collection of worms today, help yourself.” You point to the can.

“Hmm.” Seteth frowns. “Would you mind giving me pointers on how to set the bait? My wife usually baited the hooks. I can manage with some things, but worms are tricky.”

“I understand. My father would set my bait when I was little. I was afraid of the wiggly bugs and worms. Though he is gone, I will pass along his techniques. It is a good way of remembering him.” You take a worm and quietly show him how to set the worm on the hook, leaving the end close to the barb of the hook to wiggle.

“I always make sure the barb is just through the end there, touching it but not piercing your finger. There. You’re ready to go.” You smile as you let loose the hook and it dangles and spins in the air.

“Appreciated.” Seteth smiles. The relaxed look on his face is a sight to behold.

You cast your line into the water and wait. Flayn is to your right trying very hard to be still. Seteth is to your left, taking a seat on a crate after casting his line in the water. Flayn’s bobber starts to wiggle. You hear her stifle a noise, trying to remain quiet. Suddenly her bobber goes under, she pulls her pole back.

“I have one. Oh, it feels heavy!” Flayn excitedly giggles as she works to haul the fish to land.

You lean to the edge of the pond, grabbing the fish as soon as she has it out of the water. “That certainly is a large fish. I think that fills your basket this morning!” You laugh.

She puts her fish away and gives you a huge hug. “You have taught me so well. I’m going to take these to the kitchen right away. I feel like a successful fisherwoman!” she grins.

“You are an excellent student. What an amazing haul!” You laugh, watching her struggle with her heavy container of fish.

Seteth now gasps as he hooks a fish. You grab the fish by the side of the mouth when he gets it to shore.

“Oh my, it’s swallowed your hook. That’s the fourth time today. They must be really hungry to gobble them down so quickly.” You mutter, heading to your tackle box to grab your tool to remove the hook.

“You can retrieve the hook? I usually have to cut the line and tie on a new one.” Seteth is happily surprised.

You call him closer as you follow the line into the fish’s mouth. You hand him the tool and instruct him as he uses it to free the hook. He stands much closer to you than he normally does. He smells like myrrh, cinnamon, and ginger.

“That was certainly educational today.” Seteth smiles. “Thank you for your instruction.”

“Any time.” You smile softly. “The company was very enjoyable.”

A week later Seteth invites you for tea in his office. Checking the calendar, you note that next week everyone will leave for battle, so he must want to review final plans. You arrive at his door at the exact appointed time, holding several folders of paperwork that he may find useful to allay his concerns.

Seteth invites you inside and gestures to the table by the windows that is set for tea.

His desk is piled high with folders, stacks of letters to be sealed, parchment and inkwells randomly scattered amongst his work. Mounds of opened letters fill the box on one corner of the desk while multiple completed replies occupy a box on the other side.

“Is that paperwork for me?” He appears to be surprised at the bundle in your hands.

“I thought you may want to discuss the inventories and preparations being made for our upcoming march.” You respond shyly. The last thing you want to do is provide more work for him.

Seteth takes the folders from you and places them on a nearby table. “Actually, I have the greatest trust in you and would only speak to you about it if you need my guidance. Please, take a seat and join me for tea.” He gestures to the table and chairs by the window.

Taking your seat, you pull the cloth napkin to your lap. You feel a bit nervous. He has only asked you to his office to discuss matters of the church or war. This is your first purely social visit.

Seteth pours the tea, handing you tongs to take a sweet treat from the basket.

“Apologies, I do not know your favorite tea. I hope you do not mind Four Spice Blend.” He smiles softly as he takes his seat, making certain his chair is at a proper gentlemanly distance from you.

“I drink Four Spice in the cooler weather, the flavor seems to warm me from within.” You return the smile. This must be the excitement the students feel when Professor Byleth invites them to tea.

“I am glad you enjoy it.” Seteth hums. “I have been having conversations with Felix lately about the importance of friends in our lives. I then realized that I have been negligent myself in not taking time to visit with my friends.”

“I am delighted to call you my friend, of course. We have worked together for these many years, but we have not made proper time to simply chat.”

“I am making an effort to correct that mistake, starting today.” Seteth nods and takes a sip of tea. “Do tell me about yourself, what books you like to read, what are your hobbies?”

You chat back and forth until the tea has grown exceedingly cold, exchanging tidbits of knowledge into who each of you are as a person. You speak of the books you’ve read recently and share impressions you have on your allies.

“This has been simply fascinating. A fantastic break from work. I feel very refreshed,” Seteth smiles. “I have learned quite a bit about you and your many talents.”

“I feel the same! I have learned so much about you as well. Thank you for inviting me to a very lovely tea.” You stand and reach for your paperwork.

“Perhaps we can make it a weekly occurrence, to make certain we have the time to check on each other,” He offers.

“Fantastic. I would enjoy it immensely.” You are beaming with happiness as you head out the door. Your heart skips a beat as you head down the hallway. You don’t mind that there are a few patients impatiently waiting inside the infirmary.

It is a few weeks before you can have another quiet tea together. Travel and battle do not allow for much time to socialize. Your hands are full setting up the infirmary tents, organizing the clerics, making certain the army has well stocked bandages and potions for the fighters.

Flayn is going to be on the field for the battle and you worry over her as she finishes attaching the last pieces of her armor. She comes to speak with you frequently, discussing a few adult matters that she is not confident with confiding in her brother.

“Watch out for arrows, if you are hurt, fly straight to the infirmary. Your brother would never forgive me if I cannot get you back into perfect health as soon as possible.” You kiss her on the forehead and send her off to her wyvern. You have become quite close friends and say a silent prayer for her safety. She reminds you of your younger siblings that you raised when your mother passed away.

Now you are standing at the edge of camp, watching what little you can see of the battle. Seteth and Flayn are flying close together on their wyverns, protecting each other. You send a quick prayer for their safety as you head back into the infirmary tent, injured fighters are already arriving.

Wrapping a bandage to a soldiers arm you’ve completed stitching and healing, you hear a wyvern’s roar outside the tent. Running to the front of the tent, Flayn is guiding her brother’s wyvern to the ground next to hers. Seteth is nearly unconscious as you hurry to lift him from the saddle. You have no idea where your strength comes from as you carry him into the infirmary and place him on an examination table. You’ve carried unconscious soldiers before, but Seteth is very solidly built.

Flayn dashes in behind you, filling you in on what happened. “He was hit by a lightning bolt. His wyvern was hit as well, but it dealt with the hit better than he did. I think it was because of the arrows he had taken prior that had weakened him.”

“Help me get his robes off.” You quickly instruct her.

She helps remove his robes and armor as you strip him to his undershirt and trousers. His pants are ruined by two arrows, you cut them off just above the arrow in his thigh and around the other in his calf. Neither of the projectiles are close to arteries, however the one in his thigh is very deep into the muscle. It seems to take forever to remove the arrowhead from leg. You had to cut tissue and pull his flesh out of the way. Finally, you work faith magic deep into the torn tissues, encouraging the flesh to bind back together.

Flayn works on his shoulder where the burns from the lightning strike entered his body. Luckily it traveled down his arm and exited close to his hand. You heal what you can of the burns for now, they will need further attention later.

Two strong soldiers help lift Seteth onto a stretcher, moving him to his tent. Gently you guide him on to his bed with Flayn’s assistance and she stays to watch over him. Before you leave, you examine her for any injuries, healing even the smaller cuts, knowing her brother would not be pleased to waken and see she was not treated.

Returning to the infirmary you triage the incoming soldiers. The new casualties begin to dwindle and those that are well enough leave for dinner. You make certain those that can eat do so. You then proceed to check on Seteth.

Standing at the entrance on the tent you announce yourself. Flayn beckons you to come in. Flayn is sitting in a chair, knitting a sock as she quietly sits by his side.

“I am so happy that you taught me how to knit. It is keeping my hands and mind busy so I do not hover over him so much. He has been sleeping peacefully since he was brought here.” Flayn updates you.

Leaning over the cot that Seteth is silently sleeping on, you check his vitals then his wounds to make certain he has not bled through the bandages. You’ve noticed his and Flayn’s heartrate are not the same as others. There are a few things you have seen over the years that sets them apart from the others. You keep these things to yourself, honoring their privacy.

Looking over at Flayn you smile reassuringly. “Would you like to go visit with your friends a bit? Promise me you will stay right in the middle of camp. No going off anywhere or your brother will have my head. I’m sure you want to check on them as well. When the sound the night bell, be back here very quickly. “

She gasps with excitement, “Yes! Thank you so much.” She hurriedly packs away her knitting and runs from the tent.

Remaining by Seteth’s side, you heal the electrical burns to his shoulder and hand. Exhausted, you doze lightly in the chair with a blanket over your legs and your hand resting on his chest. If he makes the slightest movement your eyes are wide open and you observe him for any discomfort.

Flayn returns a few hours later, tired and happy that she could visit with everyone. She kisses Seteth on the head and tells you good night just as he wakens.

Opening his eyes, his first sight is her. “Flayn!” He gasps. “You are alright.” His eyes close and he visibly relaxes for a moment.

“She is fine. A few minor scratches. Absolutely nothing compared to your injuries.” You pat your hand on his chest.

Seteth moves, attempting to sit up. He shifts his legs then grimaces with pain. With you pushing him back into his cot, he finally settles back into a prone position.

“You were hit by two arrows and then lightning. How you managed to keep perched on your wyvern is a miracle. Flayn brought you back. The battle is long over, you need to rest.” You answer his questions before he can ask them.

“I am happy to see you are recovering. Good night, brother.” Flayn calls as she heads out into the night air to her tent.

“Please tell me if you have any pain. I will help you sit up to have something to drink after I heal you further. I can get you anything you need, food, water, just name it.”

“I feel extremely fatigued, like every muscle in my body has been worked to exhaustion,” he quietly answers. “I only felt pain when I tried to move my leg. You have done a wonderful job, thank you.”

“You are a good patient. Let me change the bandages on your leg and then sit you up to have a drink. You should sleep and let the healing take full hold.” Taking your basket of fresh bandages and healing salves you move to the other side of his cot and begin unwrapping his wounds. Cleansing and applying further deep healing to his leg, you wrap it with fresh, clean dressings.

Taking a waterskin in hand, you help him sit up enough to drink nearly two cups of water. You take a handkerchief to dab his lips.

“There was a significant amount of blood loss. Drinking plenty of fluids will help you replenish them. I’ll make sure you eat a high amount of protein tomorrow for breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Seteth whispers as he lies back and closes his eyes. You pat his chest and he takes your hand in his. You are relieved that he is too tired to notice a slight blush on your cheeks.

Seteth awakens in the morning to the smell of bacon and eggs. You carefully help him to sit up.

“Flayn is in the infirmary tent, helping with those she can.” You begin. “They are tearing down camp and we will be headed back to the monastery soon. Do you need me to help you get a change of clothes? You will need new pants, I had to cut the others to get to your injuries. I can send someone to assist you if you prefer.”

“Let me see if I can stand, perhaps I can manage on my own.” Seteth slowly sits himself up and swings his legs off the cot. You reach outside the tent, then turn around and hand him a training lance.

“This should help you keep steady on your feet for now.“ You say while hovering over him as he takes a few cautious steps to the chair next to the table. Once he is seated you make certain he has fresh water to go with his food.

Back at the monastery you currently have four patients in the infirmary. Riding in the back of a wagon did not help their conditions much and it takes considerable time to heal and stabilize them until you feel that they are settled and without pain.

Flayn appears in front of your desk as you document the charts. “Are you finished with the patients?” She asks sweetly.

“For now. I will have someone monitoring them throughout the night and wake me if their conditions worsen.” You answer as you finish making an entry.

“Good!” Flayn takes you by the arm and pulls you down the hallway to Seteth’s office. Pulling you inside, you see the table set for three. The smell of the delicious dinner is heavenly, you’ve not eaten for many hours. Seteth is already seated at the table

“Please excuse me for not standing.” Seteth blushes slightly

You laugh. “I would be angry if you did. You’re keeping the leg propped up. Excellent.” You see that his color is good, he is healing well. You give a huge sigh of relief.

Flayn guides you to the seat next to him and she sits across from her brother. While the meal progresses, Flayn tells her point of view of the battle and how the Professor led them all to victory.

“This is quite a happy surprise. An excellent dinner and amazing company. I could not ask for more. Thank you both for having me.” You look greatly pleased.

“It is the least we could do to thank you for your excellent care,” Seteth assures. “You have been working nonstop since the battle. When you are finished, Flayn will escort you to your room and you will sleep. The healers here have been under your watchful eye and will take good care of the wounded. We need you to take time to care for yourself.”

“Yes. I will sleep and you should as well. I’m sending Flayn back to check on you. If she finds you working at the desk, I’ll run up here and bring a stick with me to chase you out.” You laugh.

Seteth chuckles. “I do not wish to incur your wrath. I promise to head straight for bed after dinner.”

“Should I change your bandages while I am here?” You ask.

“I did not invite you here to work. Flayn will aid me.” He nods to her.

Flayn suddenly interrupts. “I really should get the dishes back to the kitchens, you know how they can be. Perhaps it would be best that she escorts you to your room and check you this evening. This will probably take me a few trips.” Flayn says as she hurriedly stacks the plates, cups, and cutlery together and heads out the door.

“Do you have salves and bandages in your room? Should I pop by the infirmary for some?” You inquire.

“You had best get them. I know Flayn has some in her room, however I am not certain that I have any myself. I will meet you at the stairs, we can go up together.” He answers as he reaches for a cane to keep himself steady.

You observe Seteth as you follow him up the stairs, he is being especially careful and favoring his leg. He unlocks the door to his room on the third floor. You try not to let the curiosity get the best of you. Briefly glancing about, his quarters are pristine. Comfortable and heavy furniture come into view as he lights a candelabra.

“Would you prefer to change your bandages on the couch or your bed.” You ask.

“The bed I suppose,” he sighs as he leads you to his bedroom.

“Do you have a spare towel in the bathroom? I want to make certain nothing gets onto your bedclothes.”

“Of course, there is a basket by the door.” He gestures to the open door.

Retrieving a towel, you return to his side. Seteth is seated on his bed, his back propped by his pillows. His pants are removed from the wounded leg, the other covered by his blanket.

Raising his leg, you carefully place the towel underneath. You observe his grimace out of the corner of your eye.

“Which wound hurts more, the one in your calf or the one in your thigh?”

“The thigh. That one was quite deep,” Seteth answers, slightly gritting his teeth.

Unwrapping both injuries they appear to be healing well, the scarring is pink, not red at the edges, no signs of infection or bleeding. You slightly lift his lower leg, asking him to move his foot different directions. Turning your attention to the healing injury on his thigh you begin pouring faith magic into the muscles, knitting the torn tissue further together bit by bit. Massaging the muscles around the wound you flex his knee. The healing is progressing quite well.

Briefly you glance to his face, his eyes are closed, he appears relaxed. You are blushing again. His muscles are perfect, his thighs well-toned. Taking a deep breath, you pull your brain back into your professional mindset.

“Any other pain? Any lingering tingling from the lightning in your arm?” You softly ask. “You have walked on that leg too much today. Limping around on a cane will cause pain in your hand and arm as well as throwing off your gait and leading to lower back pain. I’ve done what I can today. I would like to treat your thigh injury one more time tomorrow.” You turn away to gather the soiled bandages and cool the steamy thoughts in your head.

“You are worrying too much. I will be fine.” Seteth answers. He sounds sleepy, which is relieving. You make certain he has a glass of water on his nightstand before you leave.

You make your way back downstairs. Flayn is taking the last of the dishes back to the kitchens. You wish her a good night and tell her to fetch you if you are needed. Once she is out of sight you head to the infirmary to check on the patients. The night cleric is relieved to see you, a soldier woke up and fell trying to get out of bed, undoing quite a bit of the work everyone had put into him. A few hours later you leave the heavily sedated patient, hoping they will retain the use of their arm.

The next day you find yourself being scolded by Flayn when she finds your bowl of oatmeal is still half full on your desk and it is already lunchtime. You are too busy working on the soldier’s reinjured shoulder to eat.

“Stop this at once!” Flayn stamps her foot for good measure. I am hereby relieving you of your duty and sentencing you to complete bedrest until tomorrow.

You turn around to argue with her, however two knights are gently taking you by the arms and leading you from the infirmary to your room. As you close your door behind you, you can hear Flayn giving them orders to stand guard and not let you leave until tomorrow morning.

Your head is pounding as you reach for a glass of water. Being told to take your own medicine is quite the bitter pill to swallow. It is reassuring that the soldier should be fine and rest is the best thing for you now.

The next day Flayn apologizes for her mutiny. Instead of being angry with her, you give her a huge hug and thank her for her bravery. You invite her to bake cookies together later, perhaps some ginger snaps, since her brother may like the flavor.

Meeting Flayn in the kitchens she confesses, “Everyone says I am a bad cook. Before the war I cooked a dish so bad only Dimitri and Raphael would eat it.” She pouts.

“It is not that you are bad at cooking. You simply do not understand the why and because of it all.” You explain as you gather and measure the ingredients for the cookies.

“Butter for example.” You begin, “We’re not using it in this recipe, but many times softened butter is an ingredient in cookies. You can’t use cold butter, it won’t mix well with the sugar. If you melt the butter, it will mix with the sugar, however the consistency will be wrong. If you melt the butter too long, it will brown the butter, giving it a completely different taste. Leaving the butter in a slightly warm place for about 30 minutes should soften the butter enough to mix with the sugar and make a fluffy creamy mixture, perfect for many baked goods.”

“So cooking requires the ingredients to be in the correct state as well as quantity.” Flayn nods in understanding.

“Exactly! And you cannot always substitute items in a recipe. If you want to use a plum instead of a peach, that will not cause problems. However, if you use baking soda instead of baking powder, that may make your cookies or cake refuse to rise.”

“But they both are for baking and making it rise.” Flayn frowns.

“Would you substitute mandrake root for arrow root in a potion?” You ask.

“Goodness no! One has healing properties, the other is a poison!” Flayn shudders.

“Both are roots, both are powdered and about the same color. Always use the correct ingredient.” You nod encouragingly. “It is like brewing potions. The right ingredients in the right quantity will make someone sleep peacefully. Too much and they will be in a coma.”

“I am beginning to understand your instruction. One cannot substitute ingredients willy-nilly. You must have knowledge as to how they work together to understand the effects of changing the composition of the baked item.” Flayn smiles widely.

“Once you get the basics, with experience you will be able to change things in the recipe. Let’s go by the recipe today and experiment another time. So did you measure one cup of sugar or one cup of salt here?” You place the bowl in front of her.

“Um. I am uncertain.” Flayn blushes.

“Taste it.” You push the bowl closer to her.

Flayn takes a pinch between her fingers and puts it on her tongue. “Ew! That would have been horrible!” she gasps as she heads to the larder to obtain a cup of sugar, abandoning the cup of salt on the counter.

Later in the afternoon you join Seteth in his office for Angelica tea. You surprise him with a box of the ginger cookies baked earlier.

“Ginger cookies! I have not had one in quite some time.” Seteth eagerly grasps a couple with the tongs, putting them on his plate.

“Flayn made them this morning.” You smile.

Seteth’s smile falls from his face as his eyebrows furrow slightly. He looks back to see that his door is indeed closed. “You do know what her cooking is like, don’t you?” He whispers.

You laugh. “Really Seteth, I was with her the entire time. We had a very productive cooking session. You may be surprised. Go on, take a bite.”

Seteth brings the cookie to his lips as if he has been requested to bite the head off a viper. He stares down at the cookie for a second and sniffs it. It does not smell as if it is burnt. It smells of ginger and sweetness, which is unusual for a cookie baked by Flayn.

Finally, he opens his mouth and takes a bite, silently praying that his teeth do not break off by doing this. Instead, his teeth sink into the slightly soft, slightly chewy, perfectly baked cookie. The ginger mixed with the molasses and other spices meld together in his mouth in the most delightful and rewarding flavors. His eyes open wide as his lips pull into the sweetest smile.

“You are absolutely certain that Flayn made these? They are delicious!” Seteth gasps.

You nod. You are so proud of her right now. You wish she could see the look on Seteth’s face right now. It’s precious.

“I must thank her later. You are a miracle worker.” He reaches forward and takes your hand in his.

Your face feels as if it is on fire as it heats up with a blush. Taking your teacup you try to hide behind it as you watch Seteth reach for another cookie.

The infirmary tent is outside of Fort Merceus. You can hear the battle raging on the fortress above the wall. You’ve just finished treating the wounds of an armored Knight, closing the lance wound to his shoulder. Suddenly things are quiet. You then hear a strange whistling noise followed by an explosion. Rocks rain down from the skies, causing the large tent to collapse around you. Pain overwhelms you as the world suddenly becomes dark.

You jolt into consciousness. Sitting upright you grab your head as it throbs fiercely between your hands. Your fingers feel wet, they are covered with blood.

“Brother! She is awake!” you hear Flayn’s voice next to you. Bleary eyed you look over to her, it is difficult to focus through the pain.

Seteth kneels at the side of the cot, wrapping his arms gently around you. “I thought that we might lose you.”

You manage to reach your right arm toward, your left arm refuses to cooperate. Taking a few deep breaths, you calm yourself. Your head pounds mercilessly.

“What happened?” Your voice trembling, remembering the last things you saw.

“The Fortress is gone. It is nothing but rubble. Pillars of light came from the skies and caused explosions everywhere. An entire wall crumbled and crushed part of the infirmary. The battle is over, for now.” Seteth’s voice exudes sadness.

You sob uncontrollably into his shoulder. The loss of life must have been great. Slowly the flow of tears subsides.

“Here, you must drink something.” Seteth offers a waterskin.

You drink your fill. Your eyes are more focused now and you notice you are in Seteth’s tent. You open your mouth to speak, his finger covers your lips.

“You need to rest.” Seteth softly says as he holds a potion bottle for you to drink. You smell the bitterness of the sedative. Nodding your head, you drink the contents. He then lays you back on his cot.

You awaken to the sounds of birds chirping and soldiers walking through the camp. This time you are not nearly in as much pain as you were previously. Sitting up, you assess your injuries. Based on the wrappings and pain your left shoulder has been broken. You have multiple contusions on your arms and legs. Feeling your head, your hair has been washed and there are a few spots where cuts are healed.

You watch the tent flap open and Flayn brings two plates of breakfast to set on the table.

“I am glad you are awake. My brother is in the war council meeting. Let me help you walk over here and get something to eat.” Flayn’s smile is soft and encouraging.

As you both eat, she updates you on the status of the camp. The battle was won, then the Fort was attacked. They did lose two clerics and several soldiers when the tent was hit by debris. They repaired the infirmary tent and treatment of the wounded is ongoing. The soldiers are reorganizing, preparing for the march to Enbarr.

“I feel bad for stealing your brother’s bed.” You frown. You are unaccustomed to inconveniencing others, especially your wonderful friends.

“He slept on the floor next to you to make certain you did not wake up and head back to the infirmary.” Flayn giggles.

“He knows me well.” You nod.

“He hovered over you like a mother hen. He was very worried.” Flayn looks at you, her eyes seem to bore into you. “Do you like him?”

“Well, yes, I do. We have been friends for many years.” You answer, deciding that the eggs on your plate are very interesting so you stare at them. They stare back.

“You would make a great couple.” She giggles.

You almost choke on the food you are chewing. Grabbing a drink of water, you take a few gasps of air. “What makes you think that?” Your face is bright red, you can’t look her in the eye.

“I am getting pretty good at noticing these things. When things are difficult, you tend to find someone that you can lean on and support you. Dimitri and Marianne, Felix and Sylvain, Mercedes and Dedue. It is only natural. You and my brother watch out for each other, keep the other from overworking, make sure they eat properly. I think it is inevitable.” She grins and looks quite satisfied with herself.

Your brain goes into overdrive. “I spend a lot of time with you as well. Knitting, cooking, fishing.”

“Yes. However, you do not act romantically toward me, your attitude is more…hmmm,” Flayn puts a finger to her chin. “Motherly.”

“It is true that I am that way toward you. My mother passed not long after giving birth to my youngest brother. Father relied on me to help raise my siblings as I was the oldest. I see so much of my siblings in you. Your naivety, looking at the world through innocent eyes. I feel very protective of you and understand your brother’s concern. I also recognize his attitude of overprotectiveness. You are all he has left.” You pat her hand.

“True. I thank you for your support. He needs to learn and understand that I am no longer a little girl.” Flayn pouts, slightly ruining her ‘I am an adult’ speech.

“Perhaps you should speak with him. Have a heart to heart conversation.” You feel relieved the conversation has shifted to her feelings about her restrictive sibling.

The remainder of your breakfast is quiet. Flayn returns the dishes to the cooks as you slowly make your way to the infirmary tent. Late in the evening you are lying and resting in an empty cot when you hear Seteth’s voice. You sit up as he approaches.

“There is no need to get up.” He apologizes. “I was simply checking on your wellbeing.”

Feeling brave, you reach up to take his hand. “Thank you for helping me. I have been pacing myself and taking frequent breaks. I am very grateful for everything you have done. I am sure you would like to enjoy your privacy and sleep more comfortably.”

Seteth squeezes your hand. “You are not a burden. My door is always open for you. Sleep well.” He smiles as he leaves.

You lie there, overthinking the short exchange. Are you special or simply a good friend? You want to curse Flayn for lighting aflame these thoughts in your head. You eventually drift off to sleep.

Several weeks later you march with the troops back to Garreg Mach. The war is over. Enbarr and the Emperor are defeated. Rhea is rescued and officially appoints Byleth as the new Archbishop. The Knights are busy taking out rogue bands of Imperial troops and bandits, returning to the monastery to be healed and rest up for the next battle.

Seteth is constantly overworking himself along with Byleth as they create the new doctrine for the church. They also communicate with Dimitri by letter, regarding plans for the continent. You find yourself constantly interrupting their meetings, forcing them to break for food or to take a walk to get fresh air.

“I thought we had just stopped for lunch. Is it time for dinner already?” Seteth looks up from the table filled with scattered parchment and books. Byleth doesn’t look up from his writing.

“Yes. Flayn and I have caught some fish and we are having it for dinner. No excuses.” You glare at them sternly. “Join us in the dining hall.” You do not say now, however it is implied and they stop their work quickly.

While eating, Seteth and Byleth attempt to continue their conversation regarding a particular section of doctrine.

“I order both of you to rest. Talk of something not business,” You plead. “I have heard that Dimitri will only work six days a week, taking one day for his mental wellbeing and health. I completely stand behind that mindset. True, there are always some issues that have to be dealt with, however the focus of the day off is to give yourself a break.”

Byleth looks at you as if you have two heads.

“Vessel of the goddess, yeah, yeah.” You frown at them. “You still need to eat, to sleep, and to rest. Keep this up and you’re headed straight for another five year nap. How much work are you going to finish then?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, looking at them smugly.

“She seems quite serious and peremptory. I don’t think we have much of a choice in this.” Seteth acquiesces. “Saucy little woman.” He whispers to his soup.

“What was that?” You snip.

“I said you make a fine spokeswoman.” He quickly shovels more fish into his mouth.

A week later they announce that Sunday shall be a day of rest except for what must absolutely be accomplished. The first week goes quite well. Byleth and Seteth spend much of the day resting in the afternoon sun as they fish in the pond.

They even admit to a renewed spirit as they return to their work the next day, having clearer minds and feeling rested. Things go well until the fourth week.

You are in the infirmary long enough to heal and bandage a burn on Annette’s arm when you cannot help but hear Seteth and Flayn’s very loud and angry voices emitting from his office. Quickly you dismiss Annette, telling her not to utter a single word.

As you approach Seteth’s door, Flayn runs out crying and fleeing to her room upstairs.

Seteth is sitting at his desk, his head in his hands.

“I do not know what has gotten into that child. She simply does not understand that I am trying to protect her.” He groans.

You knock on the door frame. Seteth waves you in and you close the door behind you.

“Apologies. I am sorry you were a witness to our outburst.” He sounds exasperated.

“She has grown to become quite the independent woman.” You disclose. “She has emotionally developed from a child into an adult since I met her all those years ago.”

Seteth groans. “The world is a dangerous place. I only want to keep her safe. Just a few years ago she was kidnapped right under my nose. I cannot let any harm befall her.”

“It hurts. It hurts to let them go. Watching them flee the safe and warm nest you have prepared.” You begin. “Your relationship is like a hand full of sand. Held loosely, with an open hand, the sand remains where it is. The minute you close your hand and squeeze it tightly to hold on, the sand trickles through your fingers. You can hold on to some of it, but most of it spills. A relationship should be like sand held loosely, with respect and freedom for the other person, it will remain intact. But hold too tightly, too possessively and the relationship slips away and is gone forever.”

“I cannot lose her.” The tears flow from his eyes.

You come around to his side of the desk and hold him to your chest. “There are two times when parenting is most difficult. When the baby first arrives and when the adult first leaves home.”

“You are not fully aware…” He chokes on his words.

“That you are her father? She has slipped too many times in her speech. I know you love her more than anything. You have raised her as your child, regardless. The thought of her leaving breaks your heart. I know.” You assure him. You had felt like you died a little every time one of your brothers and sisters left the nest.

“I want to take her and flee. Hide deep in the mountains where I can protect her.” He gasps through his tears.

“Have you asked her if that is what she wants? If you take her and run, she may escape, putting herself out alone in the wild and into even greater danger. If you let her remain, surround herself with friends who love and protect her, just as you have, could she be safe? If you part from her angry, will she ever come back? These are things you need to ask yourself.”

“If I did that, I would truly lose her.” He looks at you knowingly.

You nod and hold him as he shudders, his sobs filling the room. You pat his back and shoulders reassuringly. After a few minutes he takes a few cleansing breaths.

“My deepest apologies, I did not mean to bring you in to this.” Seteth obtains a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his tears.

“I am here to help you. To help Flayn too. Both of you can be quite stubborn when you want to be.” You rub circles on his back, continuing to bolster him.

“What should I do now. Where do we go from here?” Seteth looks completely overwhelmed.

“Start with a nice tea together, in a neutral territory. Perhaps on the star terrace? I will check with Byleth and see if that is acceptable. Let her know this is the first of several conversations you will have. It is like any negotiation, discuss the good and the bad. Let her know more details of what you are worrying about. If either of you begin to get upset, step away from the table and calm your mind.”

You pause to let him think for a moment. “Remind her that no matter what, you love her, wanting only the best for her. You want her to understand your concerns. You need to understand her concerns, her dreams, her priorities. Keep communicating. Talk and talk some more.” You hug him tightly then head for the door.

“I cannot thank you enough.” Seteth nods as you smile at him before leaving.

Standing guard at the foot of the stairs to the third floor you sip your tea for a bit then return to knitting. They have been up there talking over tea for over two hours. No doors slamming. No yelling. This is a good sign.

Seteth calls from the top of the stairs, asking you to join them.

Flayn is carrying the tea set into Rhea’s former bedroom. She places it on and end table, then rushes over to give you a hug.

“Thank you.” She quickly whispers before heading down the hall to her chambers.

You walk outside to stand next to Seteth at the balcony. The stars twinkle brightly in the cloudless sky. You look up to him as he stares into the heavens. The air is still and cool now that night has fallen. Patiently you wait for him to gather his thoughts.

“We had a productive conversation.” Seteth begins softly.

You hum in agreement, not wanting to interrupt.

“We spoke of many things. Some good, some bad. All of it necessary. You are correct, she has grown up before my eyes and I could not see it. She is a beautiful young woman.” He speaks slowly, each word tearing apart his heart.

You want to take him in your arms and reassure him, you can see the sadness in his eyes. His precious Flayn must be allowed to be free, and he feels like it is killing him. You settle with leaning against his shoulder with yours.

“She said she worries for me just as much as I for her. She fears that when she leaves, I will shut myself off from the world. I have told her many times that she is my world, that all I do, I do for her. She knows the sacrifices I have made for her sake. She is grateful. But she wants to do things on her own. How to fend for herself. I just—” his voice falters.

Seteth hangs his head low, gripping the balustrade tightly for support. “I am terrified.”

“Let her know you will always be there for her. That you are a place of safety for her, a refuge.” You rub his shoulder as you remain looking skyward.

“Of course, I will take her back, in a heartbeat. There is no doubt. I would bring her where I am without question.” He says with conviction. “The hardest part is to let her go in the first place.”

“She is still here, you have time to mend your hearts. You will always worry for her, she knows this. You have earned that right.” You softly pat his opposite shoulder your arm around his back..

“Thank you for being here.” Seteth turns and hugs you to his chest. You hug him back and stand with him in the cool air, sharing warmth with each other.

Flayn and Seteth have several teatime conversations, adult to adult. One day they decided to take a short holiday together, packing belongings on their wyverns and return several days later.

Seteth works twice as hard to make up for the lost time in his office. You spend time with Flayn as she tells you of her plans. Ignatz and Raphael are going to work as knights for Lorenz who has taken over Gloucester lands from his father. Lorenz is fully employing Ignatz to be ‘a knight that paints’. She will join them in a month’s time. She is in love with Ignatz, however does not want to jump into things too quickly. With her other friends there, she will see how the budding romance goes.

You giggle along with her about her exciting plans, what she wants to do for herself and things she will see. She is quite excited about visiting Derdriu. She’s always loved the ocean and the other coast is just north of the territory.

“What will you be doing now that things are settling down? Do you want to travel or start something new?” Flayn looks at you curiously.

“I’m still recovering from going through the war. I’ve always enjoyed working here. Because Byleth is staying here, friends will come to visit frequently. I am not much of a wanderer, so traveling is out. I don’t want to go north, the snow we have here is plenty.” You think for a moment. “Teaching sounds interesting if they decide to reopen the academy or a regular school. I would like to research some additional healing spells. There are many things to do. Deciding is the hard part.”

“You should think about finding someone special to settle down with.” Flayn smirks.

You nearly spit tea all over yourself. “I..um.” You cough into your napkin and gather your wits. “Unlike some people I know, I do not rush into things.”

“I have watched you pine over him for years.” She laughs.

Looking away from her you wiggle nervously in your chair. “I have no idea what you’re alluding to.”

“You both are so hopeless.” Flayn huffs.

A few days later, Flayn leaves a box outside your door labeled ‘Educational Materials’. You take them in your room then head to the infirmary for work. She has left a box there labeled ‘Medical Supplies’. You open the box and restock the shelves with the gauze and bandages. At the end of the day you return to your room deciding to open the box she has left for you. It is filled with romance novels. How strange. Educational? You think as you open one of the books to peruse through.

Flayn has finished packing her belongings. She distributed a few things around the monastery, leaving enough of her belongings in her room so that she will not have to pack anything when she comes to visit Seteth. The wagon from Gloucester territory has arrived and she watches them load her belongings onto the back. Flayn stands outside the carriage saying her goodbyes.

“Byleth, thank you for accepting me in your class. It began my journey to the independence that I celebrate today.” She gives him a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“I must thank you for everything you have done for me. You have taught me how to cook, amazing fishing techniques and patience. Thank you for everything.” She takes your hands in hers as she gazes your face with a sincere smile. She kisses you on both cheeks, like the adult women of the court say goodbye.

Flayn jumps up and gives Seteth a tight hug. She buries her face in his chest so she cannot see his face.

“I will miss you most of all, brother. I promise to write. I will be safe, you’ll see.” She pauses so that he can kiss her on the forehead, then she turns and quickly enters into the carriage before anyone can see a tear fall from her eyes. The carriage pulls away and she waves out the window with her hand.

Byleth stares as the carriage leaves. “Do you think she will cry?”

“She is bawling her eyes out right now.” You manage to chuckle, trying to hold back your own tears. A sniffle still escapes.

Seteth has moved inside the building, most likely to hide his own tears. You stand next to Byleth, not sure what to do with yourself. Byleth eventually looks over to you.

“I’ll go to the wyvern rookery to make sure he doesn’t try to follow her. You should go talk to him.” Byleth announces as they head out.

Heading up the stairs to the second floor of the faculty building, the trip seems much longer than usual. You have no idea what to say to him. You pause outside his door, praying the goddess gives you the proper words.

“Seteth. May I come in?” Announcing your presence as you knock.

“This is not a good time for conversation.” He answers, not opening the door.

“We don’t have to speak.” You answer. “Please?”

The silence from the other side of the door is deafening. You wait, not moving.

“Enter.”

You enter, seeing him seated at his desk, looking toward the wall. You silently close the door. Approaching Seteth like you would a terrified animal, extending your hand toward him slowly and gently, you touch his shoulder.

He hangs his head and weeps into his chest. You place your head on his shoulder and arms around his back, letting him mourn his loss. His muscles are all tight as he pulls into himself, his body shakes with emotion.

When he has run out of tears, he pulls himself from your embrace. He tries to hide his face, swollen from crying. You reach for a pitcher and pour water onto a cloth, chill it with magic and place it on his forehead and eyes. You tilt his head back to rest it on the back of his chair. Moving behind him you massage his temples and apply healing magic to relieve the headache from crying.

He looks as if he is resting, or at least trying to relax after having tensed his entire body for so long.

“I am always here for you.” You say softly before leaving his office.

You arrange for dinner to be brought to his door. Disappointment crosses your face when you see the food is untouched hours later.

The next morning your rise early to fish, but the fish have no interest. You glance at the windows of Seteth’s office and there is no light. Heading to the infirmary you walk past it and stand outside of his office door. You knock, there is no answer. You attempt to open the door, it is locked.

While treating a cut on a soldier’s arm, Byleth enters the infirmary.

“Have you seen Seteth? He is late for our meeting this morning.” Byleth says, looking concerned.

“No. Perhaps you should check on him?” You offer. “I believe he skipped dinner last night and the cooks said he was not there for breakfast. He did not touch his food at dinner last night as well.”

Byleth frowns and heads for Seteth’s office door. You hear his knocking from inside the infirmary. Soon the hallway is quiet. A few minutes later you hear the tapping of Byleth’s boots walking down the hallway and going up to the third floor.

Putting away the bandages and salves, you jump when Byleth bursts into the infirmary.

“Come quick!” He orders.

Dashing up the stairs you head to Seteth’s room. Byleth is with him in the bedroom, having placed Seteth on his bed. He had found him lying on the floor of the front room.

You quickly assess Seteth’s condition. He has exhausted himself. His eyes are dark and sunken, black lines hang below his eyes. He has probably not been sleeping and certainly has not been eating. You knew he had not been sleeping well, he looked tired yesterday however, today is much worse.

“I can take over from here. Let the infirmary know I am indisposed for a day or so.” You announce as Byleth helps you pull a comfy chair from the parlor next to the bed. You also set a pitcher and two glasses on the nightstand.

“I’ll send dinner up.” Byleth says as he leaves the room.

You check Seteth frequently. He is sleeping soundly. You eat, leaving the dishes outside. He still has not moved. Grabbing a throw blanket, you curl up in the chair, settling in for the night. You leave your hand on top of his, you need to wake if he stirs.

The moonlight shining through the windows gives a bluish glow to the room, the sun has not yet risen, however it will in an hour or so. Seteth begins to stir. He yawns and instinctively reaches to cover his mouth. Just as he moves, you bolt upright in the chair and look at him. He notices you there, bolting upright as he realizes you are in his room.

“What are you doing here.” Seteth huffs.

“I am watching over my patient. Apparently, someone cannot be trusted to take care of themselves properly.” You fold your arms on your chest and give him a glare that could frighten a demonic beast.

Seteth attempts to hide his shame behind his hand, using it to cover his face. “My deepest apologies. My mind has not been in a good place. I have been overwhelmed with grief since before Flayn had even left. I know she is alive and well, but that does not lessen my concern for her.”

“I should write to her and tell her exactly what you have done to yourself as soon as she left.” You scold. “She put me in charge of you, no matter how many times I assured her that you are a grown man and capable of taking care of yourself. I have misjudged you. I am certain she will not be pleased to know she was right.”

You get up and hand him a glass of water. He takes a few sips, placing it on the nightstand. You hand it back to him again pointing to the center of the glass. He drinks half of the contents and looks at you. You nod and he puts the glass down. A few moments pass as you stare at each other.

“Are you hungry? I can run to get you something. Do you have any pain?” Your face softens.

“I will be fine. I think I will lie here and rest for a little while longer.” Seteth takes your hand in his. “You should get some rest as well. You don’t need to stay here and watch an old man sleep.”

“Apparently, I do.” You softly laugh, squeezing his hand and moving over to sit on the bed next to him. “You do not look like an old man. Sometimes you act like one, however when I saw you fighting during the war you were on the front lines along with those young men and you were running circles around them. I’ve seen you wield your lance, you are a force to be reckoned with.” You smile warmly at him.

“Oh? So you have been watching me?” He raises his eyebrows a bit.

“Yes. Watching you fight and fly on your wyvern is breathtaking.” You pause, “You are breathtaking.”

“I…I don’t know what to say. Thank you?” Seteth blushes.

Giving him a smile, you whisper, “We have much to discuss. But right now, we are both exhausted. Scoot over, I am not sleeping in that chair one more minute.”

“That is not proper. We shou-“ he gasps.

You lay next to him. “Shhh. Scoot. We are consenting adults who need sleep. I am fully clothed. You are under the covers, I am over them. No different than last night, except I will be comfortable and won’t wake with a pain in my neck.” You snuggle next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and arm across his waist. “Good night.”

Seteth lies there stiffly for a while. Then he heaves a sigh and lays his cheek on the top of your head, drifting off to slee

[clareguilty]

Coal Fires and Snowstorms

This was a request fic that was originally for the Overwatch cowboy but I changed to Arthur Morgan for... apparent reasons Arthur Morgan/F!Reader (reader also has big enby vibes) Rating: Mature | No Warnings Word Count: ~2,200

Arthur wakes with a wheeze, bolting upright and smacking his chest with his fist as he tries to pull in enough air.

He’s shirtless, but a woven blanket had been draped over him while he was unconscious. A ray of light cuts through a grimy window. The angle is harsh enough that it’s probably late in the evening.

The last thing Arthur can remember is the dark of the night and the clamoring of the law on his heels. So he’s been out for at least a day.

His lips are dry and cracked, and his muscles groan in protest with every movement. God, his head is pounding like he was hit by a damn train.

A door creaks open, and there’s a squeak of surprise. “Oh! You’re awake!”

Arthur blinks in the harsh sunlight that’s streaming into the small cabin. Whoever is there is bundled up in furs and a jacket with a bow over their shoulder. They’ve got two armfuls of game practically swallowing them.

“Who are you? Where am I?” He means for it to sound rough and demanding, but it’s more croaky and pathetic when the words pass his lips.

“I’m not really anybody, and this is my cabin up in Cumberland. The law chased you a long ways from Annesburg didn’t they? You must have done something real bad.” The hunter dumps all the game onto the table and rushes to the bedroll where Arthur lays. “You aren’t hurt too bad or nothing, but you’ve got a real nasty cough. I’ve got tea and herbs that should help. I bandaged up all the bleeding bits as best I could”

Arthur is bewildered. He knows there had been a fire in Annesburg -- the coal had gone up in a pyre in seconds. Somehow, he had gotten separated from Dutch and the others. The smoke had taken him like crows to a carcass, and he was lucky to make it across the ridge with the way his eyes and lungs were burning.

The last thing he remembered was the pinkertons still on his heels and the darkness of the trees as he tried to hide in the brush. He must have made it to cover before the smoke and the soot finally got him.

He flinches as the hunter sticks an open flask under his nose. “Tea. It’s bitter but you’ll need it.”

Arthur sniffs the mouth of the flask, but it sure does just smell like weeds and water. He takes a sip and wrinkles his nose. But the flavor is a small price to pay for the way the liquid soothes the burning in his mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” he says. “You could have left me in those woods to rot. I appreciate you dragging my sorry ass back here.”

You grin and pat the bandage on his arm. “It weren’t much trouble, but you sure are one large fella.” Arthur thinks you must be a young boy -- it’s hard to tell. Your hair is short under your cap but your voice isn’t all that low.

You turn to the game on the table and grab a knife from your belt. “I hunted enough for the both of us the next few days. It’s gonna be a while before you’ve got your strength back, and a snowstorm is rolling in off the Grizzlies anyways.”

Arthur frowns. “Bit early for snow, isn’t it?”

You shrug. “Winter never listens to me. At least the game was out. Everyone is trying to feed as much as they can before it gets too cold to hunt. That includes us.”

Arthur grunts and struggles to his feet. “I can help with those,” he offers.

You watch him with narrowed eyes, obviously skeptical of Arthur’s strength. “Take the small ones,” you offer up the rabbits and squirrels.

Arthur usually doesn’t have a problem skinning game, but the smoke must have gotten to him more than he thought because he finds himself having to take a rest after just a few minutes. He finishes off the flask of tea and sorts through his pack and weapons.

“My horse…” he asks after a while.

“She’s fine,” you say. “I found her not far from where you were unconscious and she helped me get you back here. She’s out back with my Old Girl.”

“Thank you,” Arthur sounds genuinely touched. “She really means a lot to me.”

You shoot him another smile. “You’re nothing but a big softie, ain’t ya? What could you have done to have the law chasing you all the way across the damn country?”

Arthur rubs the back of his neck, flushing in embarrassment. “My folks might have blown up Annesburg? I don’t actually know how much of it is left…”

“Ha!” you bark. “You’re with them van der Linde folks?”

Arthur’s silence is answer enough.

“I won’t judge,” you shrug. “You’re safe as long as you want to rest here.”

And rest Arthur does. He’s confined to the bedroll, rolled out on a warm pile of furs near the stove. You’re good company, witty and friendly and far too nosy for your own good. Arthur learns that you’ve has been living in these parts for a few years now, trapping and hunting and crafting to sell in town every few weeks. It’s more of a living than Arthur could ever ask for. Arthur thinks he might be sweet on you.

It’s another day before he’s got the strength to walk. He makes it outside to his horse, glad to see that she’s well taken care of. You had said you were going off to bathe in a nearby stream, and Arthur follows the sound of the water.

He’s not expecting what he finds. The water is shallow but fast moving, and he sees a familiar jacket hung on a branch by the bank.

You’re turned away, rinsing in the ice cold water, and Arthur can see the gooseflesh on your skin.

But when you turn slightly, it’s the swell of breasts and the curve of hips that catches Arthur’s attention. He averts his eyes quickly, darting back towards the cabin with his cheeks stained pink.

Now that he thinks about it, you had never said that you were a man. Arthur had simply figured it was most likely. The soft voice and gentle features make more sense now.

“You had better wash up if you want to,” you say when you return to the cabin. “The snow is coming in tonight. I can smell it. I stocked up on herbs for your cough and we’ve got plenty of provisions. I’m gonna split some more wood to bring inside.”

Arthur can’t help but find it attractive that you’re so knowledgeable and well prepared. He makes his way to the stream on his own and washes up in the frigid water, pushing through another coughing fit when the cold makes his muscles seize.

It’s already getting colder when he gets back inside. His weak breath fogs even inside the cabin and the little stove can’t do nearly enough to warm the small space.

“You’re going to freeze,” he tells you. He’s big enough to handle the cold -- spent a damn month up in the grizzlies without much of a problem -- but you surely won’t last the snowstorm.

“I’ve made it before,” you say with a huff and a glare. “I’ve got plenty of furs to keep me warm.”

“Put your bedroll beside mine,” Arthur insists. “We can share the blankets.”

The snow begins to fall, sticking to the ground in wet clumps, and you brace yourselves for the days to come. You’re practically strangers -- save for the fact that you had dragged Arthur out of the woods and saved his life. Now you have no choice but to rely on each other until the snow melts.

Arthur wakes in the night to your violent shivering under the blankets. He pulls you so that you’re pressed against his chest, tucking both of you under the quilts closer together. “I thought you said you’d made it through this before?”

You huff, teeth chattering. “I survived. I never said I kept warm.”

“Stay close to me. It’s my turn to keep you alive.” He drifts back to sleep to the howl of the winter winds.

The next morning he’s greeted by a bowl of piping stew that makes his sinuses burn. “I had some jarred peppers I keep for weather just like this. You’re in no condition for liquor so this is the best you’re gonna get.”

Arthur accepts the stew graciously. He’s not ready for the way you stand on your tippy toes to kiss him on the cheek when he offers to wash both of the bowls.

You pass the time snowed in with several rounds of cards. Arthur tells stories about him and the gang until his throat aches and he starts coughing again, and so the you regale Arthur with your life’s tale and a few stories you picked up over the years. You’re curled up next to each other in front of the stove, and you have no shame about burrowing against Arthur in a quest for body heat. He lets you steal as much as you want.

“I thought you were a boy when I first woke up,” Arthur says.

You shrug. “Most people do. I find it makes things easier a lot of the time. How’d you figure me out?” You don’t seem to feel too strongly one way or another about how Arthur and others see you.

Arthur hides his embarrassment behind a cough. “I, uh, caught you washing up in the stream.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s pretty solid proof, ain’t it.” You’re smiling, not shy at all. “You’re not mad at me for lying, are you?”

“You never lied,” Arthur says. “I just came to my own conclusions. Doesn’t matter much to me anyways, whether you’re a man or a woman.”

You frown at that. “Doesn’t matter?”

“Nah,” Arthur ruffles your short hair. “You’re cute either way.”

It’s the right thing to say. The frown disappears and you settle back against him, humming contentedly.

He wakes in the night to the feeling of your breath on his neck. You shift and your lips brush against his skin. He can’t help the way his whole body tenses at the sensation. His arm is draped around your waist, holding you close because he knows you’ll freeze if he doesn’t.

He pulls you in closer. Every inch where your skin touches his feels oversensitive and hot. You’re still asleep -- he can tell from how slow you breath against his skin, but you reach an arm around his neck and burrow against him.

His heart begins to race. He’s flushed and half asleep and you fit against him so well in this tiny cabin that you’ve made your home. One of his hands slides down your back. You moan as his palm passes over the small of your back and the curve of your ass. His hand comes to the back of your thigh, but you shift again and rock your hips against him.

He gasps, then has to fight back a cough. He doesn’t want to wake you, but your quest for warmth has you plastered against him in a very compromising position. It’s starting to make his long johns downright painful, and he thinks he’ll combust in shame.

You rock against him once more, mumbling sleepily into his skin.

“Darlin’” he croaks. But the sound doesn’t wake you. He tries to wriggle an arm between you so he can push you off, but instead he winds up with a handful of your breast, and the most gorgeous sound he’s ever heard escapes your lips.

He freezes. He’s painfully hard now, and you’re still gently rocking against him in your sleep, perhaps even more so now that he’s got a hand on your chest.

“Arthur, please,” you whine.

He’s pretty sure you’re awake by now, so he readjusts his hand and rubs his thumb over the peak of your nipple. You let out another breathy moan against his skin. This time when he runs a hand over your ass he lets himself take a moment to appreciate how it feels under his palm, they way his fingers sink into the soft skin beneath your winter sleep clothes. He once again places his hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you so that your hips are lined up with his, straddling him under the blankets.

You whine against him once more and grind your hips downward. The friction does way more for him than he imagines it must for you, and his vision whites out momentarily at the heat and weight of you against him.

He loses himself in the motion of your hips for several long moments, but then your whines grow frustrated and unsatisfied and he knows exactly what your after.

Gripping both of your hips tightly, he flips you both so that you’re laying back on the bedroll and he’s kneeling over you.

Your eyes fly open.

“Arthur?”

“You were asleep?” he looks absolutely bewildered.

“I thought so? I was having the best dream.” Your eyes look past him as you remember.

“I don’t think you were dreaming, sweetheart,” he chuckles. He leans in to place an open mouthed kiss against your neck. You gasp and dig your nails into his shoulder.

“Then I think you had better keep going, cowboy.”

[lnights]

Feeling really lonely today and thought about rereading your Wolfpack AU to cheer me up... That actually gave me an idea for something to suggest. (I actually kind of projected my loneliness onto poor Aleksi with this idea) But how about a short fic about the time before Aleksi moved in with the pack, where he was alone at his place for some reason but felt lonely. But didn't want to say anything to his mates. And for some reason they show up at his place suddenly. (Sorry it is a bad idea probably)

Hey not a bad idea at all. I'm sorry you're feeling lonely and hope this helps. (I project a lot onto Aleksi and Joel in my fics so yeah, poor them lol)

...

Aleksi sighed.

He had thought he wanted to be alone that night.

It was an adjustment, having a pack with five other men, and everyone seemed to run on pure energy. In the short time since he had stopped fighting the pull to them he had been with them every day and night it seemed; he was still working with them in the studio, they always wanted him to come back with him for supper or to sleep...

And that was fine most days, but today he found himself irritated by everything and everyone, so when they had finished early in the studio and they had asked if he was coming back with them, he had said no.

But instead of finding some peace away from his chaotic pack he just felt... Alone.

He had gotten used to their presences, Joonas always enlisting him to help cook, or Joel and him sprawling out on the ground and talking about what songs were doing what on the charts, or songwriting with Niko, relaxing with Olli or just being picked up and held in Tommi's lap.

He missed all of it.

But he had told them he wasn't coming over, at this point they probably already had eaten and was settling in to watch something while all curled together.

It wasn't fair to take it back now, disrupt their plans...

Part of him knows that's ridiculous, their mates and they would always be happy to see him. But his mind can't stop thinking how he should be able to be apart from them for a night, that he shouldn't go running to them just because he had forgotten what being alone felt like.

He sighed and looked around his empty apartment, it wouldn't be long until his lease was up and he was planning to move in with the rest of the pack when it was.

Even though Aleksi hadn't eaten yet he thought of going to bed, sleeping instead of thinking about his self-inflicted isolation.

Until the door rattled.

For a moment he wondered if it was Robin, although the fae didn't generally didn't make noise when he appeared, somehow just materializing whenever he wanted.

But a moment later the door unlocked and several scents hit him at once coffee, leather, wood, lavender, and citrus as his mates cheerfully let themselves in, a couple boxes in hand.

"What are you guys doing here?" Aleksi asked, watching as the filed into his kitchen and Joonas opened one of the boxes, carefully pulling out a very full looking pot of stew, the other box having bread and such to accompany it.

"We brought you dinner." Niko said simply, crossing over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, "you seemed off today so we wanted to make sure you were ok."

As Joonas dished up the meal and handed out bowls, everyone settling in to chat over their meal, Aleksi sighed again.

This time with contentment.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #15

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Richard-sensei’s Cooking Classroom

On a bright morning in Kandy, a provincial town from Sri Lanka, a man was standing still in his kitchen. Leaning against the wall was a Japanese book titled “Breakfast for People Who Live Alone”. There were three items on the menu. Just an omelet with ketchup on top, boiled sausages and fruit salad yogurt.

Regardless, the kitchen where the man was standing was an explosion of colors, as if it were the atelier of some Dadaist painter. Perhaps he was wrong in trying to make an omelet, the blond man thought, tilting his head despondently. Loved by the god of beauty, his blond hair swayed smoothly, and on the wall behind him, the exploded omelet was scattered in all directions, giving off an artistic atmosphere. It was obvious that in order to cook an omelet on a frying pan, it was necessary to shake up said pan, but the specific method of how hard one should shake it had not even once made an appearance in his life, much like fairies and unicorns from fictional stories. As a result of him jerking the pan with moderate adjustment, the omelet had flown off, hitting the wall and dripping down under the influence of gravity.

The beautiful man cast his eyes at the opposite side of the kitchen with a melancholic look as well. His golden eyelashes reflected a rainbow-colored prism and shone like an emerald-green sea under the morning sun. In a corner, where a microwave and water heater sat on top of the kitchen table, something orange had burst all over the place from within the microwave. Just why did food blow up so often, the man wondered, silently ashamed of his ignorance for trying to reduce just two rules of thumb to common sense. When he put three vacuum-packed blood sausages in the microwave and warmed them up, the sausages lost their original shape with a faint explosive sound. Obeying the instructions that said, “Bain-marie or microwave”, the man had chosen the microwave, which seemed less difficult, but probably due to some process being neglected or the heating time being incorrect, the sausages had undergone a magical transformation, looking like some sort of eerie monster.

Moving his feet so as not to make a sound, the man headed to the dining room, lightly placing a hand on the large table and elegantly gazing at the tabletop. Fragments of yellow and green were floating on a sea of white.

“Fruits yogurt,” the man whispered, as if it were a magic spell, heaving a spring breeze-like sigh.

It was just chopped fruits floating on yogurt. Taking into account the possibility that he could not cut the fruits too meticulously, the man was out of luck to have a slicer with him, and by the moment he realized that this one was apparently not supposed to be used for fruits but rather for slicing things such as cabbages and carrots into thin pieces, the fruits that he had failed to chop had gone flying over the table, surrounding the bowl of yogurt and instantaneously creating a Genesis-like scene on the tabletop. It was chaos.

On 360 degrees, no matter where he looked, it was a foodstuff hell. After looking around one more time at the artistic misery he had created and sighing coarsely, he started anew and began doing a quick cleaning.

   “Morning, Richard. You slept well, I see.”

“Good morning, Seigi. So you wake up early even in Sri Lanka. Short sleepers have shorter lives. Didn’t you go to bed yesterday when it was already past midnight?”

“That’s fine for today. I have a guest here, after all. I’ll catch up with my sleep tomorrow.”

“I have not done so much to be called a ‘guest’.”

“There, there; let’s leave that for after we eat.”

His face looking like he was checking on something, the man whose appearance was impeccable even first-thing in the morning, as usual, glanced at the kitchen and dining room of my Sri Lankan house, and then let out a tiny sigh, stopping by a place close to the garden.

“Hey, could it be you woke up early this morning? Like, around 5AM...”

“Why?”

“I wonder if it was my imagination.”

In this three-story house, the first floor was a shared space for the dining room and bathroom, while the second and third floors had bedrooms. The room that I used as my main one was on the second floor, and the room on the third floor was used when Richard came over to be my overseer, but only the first floor had a bathroom. Whenever someone was going down to the first floor, one could tell by the sound of them stepping on the stairs. That was no big deal when I was alone, but this was the kind of house that would disturb other people’s sleep if I didn’t walk quietly whenever I needed to use the toilet in the middle of the night.

At around five o’clock, probably because I was drowsy, I had the feeling that someone had gone downstairs. I went back to sleep thinking that maybe Richard, who was looking after me despite having a jetlag, felt like having a late-night snack or something, but it was apparently a wrong guess.

Said man, dressed in a soft-looking shirt and the beige pants that he usually wore when he was relaxed, was standing still with eyes wide-open. It seemed he had noticed what was on the table. I was happy with the reaction.

“I’ve got breakfast for us. Hope it suits your taste.”

“Why? You said yesterday that your breakfast was just cereal and fruits.”

“I indeed said this yesterday, but I wanted to show it’s really not like that every single day. I also didn’t want you to worry for no reason.”

Plain omelets, sausages and fruit salad. For some reason, this house had many pottery dishes from European brands instead of Sri Lankan ones, but they were working out well for today. The paintings of green and pink pedicels over a white background were apparently from a German brand. It was actually my first time making a breakfast like this, which looked like it could show up in a commercial for some newly built apartment building and wasn’t as filling as its appearance suggested, but it had been surprisingly fun.

“I saw the recipe book in the kitchen. It’s a present for me, right? Thank you. I was happy to read a book in Japanese after so long, so I decided to make the part that showed up when I opened it into our menu. Now, now, please have a seat and eat up.”

For about solid ten seconds, Richard stared at the one-plate breakfast, his gaze looking like he was seeing a stone that he had never set his eyes on before, but then, after giving a start as if just remembering that I existed, he sat down with his same-old graceful demeanor.

“Well then, shall we?”

And so, Richard ate breakfast next to me. At times like these, this man would become extremely well-mannered, taking notice of and praising the details, such as the fineness of the omelet’s texture and the beauty of the fruit cuts in the yogurt, as if he were evaluating a five-million-yen jewelry or something. Even while being in Sri Lanka, I sometimes thought that if there were teachers like him in middle or high school around Japan, it would save many children.

“Thanks; that makes me happy. I’m benefiting from it too. Getting so many compliments for just boiling sausages.”

I didn’t know very well how to describe Richard’s face when I said that. His expression seemed like it could be the theme of a masterpiece painting, as if the exceptionally beautiful man had suddenly been reminded of an indescribable pain in the depths of his chest, but was struggling not to expose it in his facial expression. When I asked what was up, the reply was a gentle smile. His usual face was already back.

“I believe I have already said this several times, but you are extremely smart. You decipher the texts, assemble the methods in your head and put them to practice. There are more hardships in this process than you can imagine. Nevertheless, you specialize at it. This is clearly a talent of yours. Be sure to cherish it.”

“I will. But, well, I think doing my best because someone else’s gonna eat it also counts.”

For security reasons, I wasn’t allowed to invite guests to this house. I was sometimes called over to the house of a local friend I had made, and then I’d cook a simple dish there, but guests that make several meticulous dishes on the spot were probably not very welcome. So whenever there were days like these, when “guests” officially recognized by the house’s owner, Saul-san, occasionally came over, it was a great opportunity for me have a change of pace.

While thanking Richard for washing the dishes, I cleaned up the dining room and before moving on to stone study, which was my daily routine in the morning (at any rate, I had to examine stones thoroughly, guess their prices and drill the right and wrong ones into my head; pretty simple), I asked him about lunch. Richard-sensei was very busy. No time for leisure.

“You’ll be off again in the evening flight, right? What we gonna do about lunch? If you’re leaving at three o’clock, then you’ll still be in Kandy at noon, right? Can we go to a restaurant I like?”

“What a good thing it is that you found a ‘restaurant you like’ in this country. Allow me to accompany you.”

While smiling, Richard was about to let out a yawn, yet he hastily bit it down. He was like a prideful cat. As I thought, he seemed a little sleepy. When I suggested him to go to bed again, he said that he didn’t mind it, since he was going to sleep in the night flight either way. And yet he was calling me a short sleeper.

I glanced at the dining room and the kitchen. They were neatly organized. From their tidy and orderly state, I could tell with just a look that I obviously hadn’t cleaned them to this point last night. There wasn’t a single speck of dust on the floor. Despite the difference between the inside and outside of the house being so vague. There was no evidence left, but it was clear that something had happened here. Not a murder, but a more peaceful and heartwarming incident. The suspect showed no signs of confessing. So I wouldn’t say anything either. No particular comments on the multiple rags and some food remains at the bottom of the organic waste bag. I only had one thing that I wanted to say no matter what, so I hoped he’d just let me say it.

After finishing the meal, I waited for the beautiful man to stand up, and then I went behind Richard, clutching his shoulders. I was going to say it before he turned around, asking what I was doing. It was best if I didn’t see his face. There was no telling what I could say when I was staring at him in fascination.

“I myself don’t know very well what I’m talking about, so I want you to forget it in two seconds, but I was reeeally happy for this morning. Really happy. To a shocking extent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I said I didn’t know either, right? I don’t get it, but anyway, I was happy. That’s all! Aight, study time.”

Without looking at Richard’s face until the very end, I started knocking a thousand gemstones in my workspace on the first floor. I had to look over them while it was morning. This was my current job. Richard didn’t say anything else, but his back looked calm under his shirt, so I was a bit relieved as well. Thinking back on it now, I had taken the wrong path at that time. I should have told him “not to overdo it” more clearly.

Two weeks later, Richard came back, but this time, I heard a small explosion at 6AM. Three times in a row. What did it take for things to turn out this way? The current time was already 7AM. Between getting up right now or not, which one would be less of a hassle later on? I didn’t even want to think about what had been made of the dining room. There was no one other than the two of us in this house and this wasn’t a matter that I had to go as far as asking the landlord, Saul-san, for advice on, so I knew I was the one who had to deal with it anyway. I wanted someone to decide in my stead. What should I do?

[thenextchapter22]

Mail Order… Kitten Girl

Part 4: Demons?!

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Past Abuse, Past Non/Con, Slavery, Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Link to my AO3: Click Here

Part One  Part Two  Part Three

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

You had been given clothes first. Asmo, the flirty one, lead you to his bedroom. It smelled like flowers, and fruit, and while it was nice it was a little overwhelming to your senses at first.  

“Here, sit on the bed and I’ll grab some clothes for you,” he said softly, and sat you on the edge of the bed. You cared not that you were as nude as the day you were born, and he didn't either. It was typical of Kitten Girls to be so and you had been trained for it; Master’s liked their Kitten’s ready at all times.  

Asmo disappeared into his walk-in closet, and you looked around the room, bouncing on the bed. It was soft and warm, you wanted to sleep in it.

“Ah, here, this should fit you perfectly!”  

You jumped as he emerged from his closet. He had a few pieces of cloth in his arms, and they all looked cozy and you even saw a pair of fuzzy socks. You had never had those before. This was a real treat you would take advantage of.  

He sat on the bed next to you, smiled at you again and thus giving your body slight shivers. Something in his eyes made you feel pleasant.  

You waited for him to do something, but he seemed to be admiring your face. The staring was nerve wrecking. “You’re very beautiful, little kitty,” he eventually stated. “Can I pet your ears?”  

You blushed, but nodded. "You can,” you softly spoke in the quiet room.  

He squealed. His fingers were delicate on your head, and he scratched in the right places before he carefully stroked over your ears. Such a gentle touch, and he made sure to be slow about it. You found your eyes closing in contentment.  

When he stopped after a minute, you pouted. And you realized you’d been purring, too, which made your cheeks burn. You curled your tail around your waist and squeezed, a distraction you had done over the years to get out of your own head.  

He giggled. “I think you should get dressed. Then we can go to see what Beel made for you to eat.” Asmo handed you the stack he’d set on his side. “You can change here, or go into my closet. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable.”  

You shrugged. You were already nude. This was one of your Masters’ rooms after all. Putting on clothes within the first hour of being here was strange, but if it was what they wanted…  

You slipped on the underwear, cotton, and loose pants, also cotton, then the tank top and after that the sweatshirt. Everything was either pink or pink and glittery, but not uncomfortable. You had to adjust the pants to make them a little lower so it could be freed. You sat back down and put the socks on. You felt so warm and soft, almost sleepy. But Asmo said food was next, so you kept your eyes open and looked to him for what to do.  

He smiled, and his eyes sparkled. “Good. Let’s go to the kitchen,” he said, and took your hand to lead you out of the room.  

_+_  

The kitchen was packed with people. You hadn’t ever been around so many in one room in a very long time. You counted and they were all there, all the men from before in the first room, probably to because they wanted to see you. They stared at you, almost ogling but not quite, and then went back to doing whatever else they were doing.  

You followed Asmo to the center of the room, and glanced around, taking in the many different types of machines and types of food all over. Some of it looked quite strange, but you supposed that you hadn’t been in an actual kitchen in a while. It was mostly served to you in your rooms, or in a cafeteria style.  

“She looks cozy, Asmo,” said the sleepy-looking one. He sat on a bar top with a spotted pillow, his head pressed down into it. His head tilted sideways so he could speak clearly.  

“Thank you Belphie. I wanted our new darling to be cute and comfortable,” he said proudly.  

You looked down at your feet, sliding them on the tiled floor. It was fun, like skating. You smiled and did it again, and then sucked in a breath when you bumped into a solid chest.  

You backed up and put your head down, shaking. “S-s-sorry,” you stuttered.  

There was a large hand on your head, and you ‘oof’ed. “Don’t worry about it.”  

You glanced up to see a large red-headed man, the one from before that mentioned food. He grinned at you. “Your hair is soft, and so are your ears.”  

Blushing, you said, “Thank you,” quietly, again. So far, they hadn’t told you to be quiet, so you hoped you would be able to speak a little more here. It was nice to hear your own voice.  

“So, what did you make for her, Beel?” asked the white-haired man. He stood over the red-head, Beel, who was cooking in a large pot on the stove.  

“A simple broth soup. Not sure what’s she’s eaten before, so something lighter will be good.”  

You inhaled, and sighed. It smelled salty and sweet, and the rich aroma made your stomach growl.  

The men all laughed. You hid your face in one hand, and your other flickered with the tip of your tail in nervous habit.  

“Well, I assume she’ll like it from that noise,” Lucifer stated with a smirk.  

Beel turned his head and smiled. “It’s ready.”  

You were the only one who ate (but you did see Beel sneak some, but it wasn’t your place to speak against a Master). It was nerve-wrecking, but you didn’t care. It tasted so good. You drank the entire bowl and had seconds, and Beel seemed glad to dish it out. Then you sighed in delight and purred, licking your lips and cleaning your fangs with your tongue.  

Lucifer let you settle for a minute before he spoke. “Now that you’ve eaten, I think we should all take a seat in the common room and talk.”  

Everyone got settled on the sofas and chairs in the next room. It was a nice little set up, books and a fireplace, and soft light from the lamps surrounding the furniture. You made to sit on the floor closest to Lucifer, because no one permitted you to sit on the couches, but he gave you a look and pointedly glanced at the open seat beside the white-haired man.  

You sat obediently and straightened your back.  

He cleared his throat. “I think we should all start with introductions. I’m Lucifer, the eldest brother.”  

The one beside you moved frantically in his seat and grinned. “Oi, I’m Mammon, the second oldest and the Greatest!”  

There was silence, aside from some beeping, and you looked up to see everyone glaring at the purple-haired man.  

“Levi!” a few of them shouted.  

He jumped and made a crazy noise. “W-what? Oh, I—I’m Leviathan, but just call me Levi, you normie.”  

You frowned. Did he insult you? There was no way to tell.  

A sigh from the blonde across from you with crossed legs. “My name is Satan. Pleased to meet you.” He smiled, and it was very sweet.  

“You know me, darling~ My name is Asmodeus, but I prefer Asmo,” he said with a flirty wink. You felt gooey on the inside looking in his pretty pink eyes, like he was entrancing you or something.  

The large man smiled. “I’m Beelzebub, but Beel works, too. Whatever you want.” He hit the sleeping one beside him, and sighed. “This is Belphegor, but just call him Belphie.”  

You looked around found them all staring at you.  They were all family, which was nice. All brothers. You twitched in your seat, their gazed almost pressuring you, and you didn’t know what they wanted to happen next. But then, they were introducing, so that meant…  

“I—I don’t… my name...” you didn’t go by any name, not anymore. “Just call me… Kitten.”  

They nodded, or smiled gently. They seemed to understand and respect that, and you almost cried with relief and happiness. Your new Masters were so kind.  

Lucifer clapped his gloved hands together. “Well, we should get you a room then. I also want to let you know one more thing, seeing as you are part Human and are probably unaware.”  

He went on to explain that they were all… demons. And you were in a place called the Devildom.  

You laughed. You hadn’t laughed in so long, and it felt good. “You—ha—you are—haha,” you couldn’t even speak, the idea was so absurd. It was totally wrong of you to laugh at your Masters but you could not help yourself.  

Yes, you were part cat, but that was just genetics, this was an entire Heaven/Hell, and God and the Devil thing. That was no way true. If so, God would not have allowed you to go through what you did. Because if he did, then what kind of God was he?  

Lucifer was pissed off. “You dare to laugh?”  

Then, an unspeakable event happened. Smoke appeared, black and wild, all around him. And you looked and saw several types of smoke appearing around your other Masters as well. The sleeping one was no long asleep, and had his own smoke covering.  

Once it cleared, seconds later, they had drastically changed…  

Horns of different shapes on all of their heads. Tails or wings, fluttering about. Fangs, sharper than yours, prominent on their grinning or sly smirking lips. Outfits with chains, leather, and flamboyant colors, jewelry that sparkled and gleamed. It was magical, and insane.  

You paled, and opened your mouth to scream. “DEMONS?!!”  

_+_  

You were panicking. This was not happening. You were sent to Hell? Did you die? Demons were all around you, and they looked so scary. Big and demanding presences all over the room.  

There would be pain, and torture. Blood. Again, blood, but this time worse than before. Because a paddling from a human you could take, but what about torture from demons?  

They were  not human . They were evil.  

Lucifer’s wings were huge, and black. Levi had a serpent’s tail, and you pictured it around your neck. Mammon’s chest was bare, marked with white, and he looked so strong. The list went on and on, scarier and scarier, you started to hyperventilate. You barely had a chance to look at anyone else, too frightened to open your eyes.  

“Calm down.”  

The hand on your arm made you scream, and you pushed away whoever touched you. You fell to the floor on your knees, and held your hands over your ears which were flat on your head.  

“She’s shaking, what should we do?” asked Mammon.  

“I believe we should start by shifting back, so she isn’t quite so frightened of us.”  

“Good thinking, Satan,” Beel responded.  

They were talking, but you barely heard them. You rocked yourself, hoping to comfort yourself in the motion.  

There was a rush of air around you, then a pressure over your body, and you moved your hands from your head to grab the fabric. It was a blanket, thin but still soft. You rubbed it, the sensation soothing you a little.  

“Kitten, you can open your eyes now, it’s all right.” Lucifer’s voice rang out.  

You inhaled, exhaled, and did just that. They were normal again. Or rather, disguised as normal.  

There was a hand in your face, and a Kleenex. You took the offered tissue from Asmodeus, and wiped your eyes and nose.  

“W-where am I?”  

“You’re in the Devildom, sweetheart,” Asmo replied with a sort of pitying look.  

After you sat back on the sofa in the corner, blanket secured over you, Lucifer explained what the Devildom was, and who they were, and the entire time you were listening with apt attention. You were so amazed by it all, until he said ‘Demon’s’ again and then you freaked out.  

“W—will you h-hurt me?” you murmured.  

A soft hand on your hair behind your ears, it was Satan standing beside you. He smiled and shook his head. “No, Kitten, we won’t hurt you.”  

You leaned into his touch, and he scratched around your ears. You sighed. That was nice.  

“Are you… g-gonna to keep me?”  

“If that’s what you want.”  

What…  you  want? You got to decide? You swallowed and nodded. “Please. I’d like to stay… masters.”  

They all grinned at you, and cheered.  

“Yes, this is going to be so fun, I’m going to set a beauty routine for us with face masks and everything, oh and your claws are perfect to paint, what do you think of the color pink?”  

“She’s too skinny, we need to feed her more. I’ll look up what cats eat.”  

“Beel, she’s not just a cat, she’s human, too. Look up human world recipes so we don’t poison her.”  

“Oh, right. Thanks, Belphie.”  

“I’m gonna teach her sooo much!”  

“Eew, Mammon, don’t be such a perv.”  

“Oi, Levi! I was talkin’ ‘bout Poker, not anythin’ sexual! Satan, help me out here!”  

“You dug your own grave, Mammon. We all knew you’d be the one.”  

“W-what does that mean!?”  

You giggled into your hands. They were all so cute, and you curled into the blanket and listened to the chaotic brothers argue about what to do with you. For Demons, they acted like normal people. Well, what you remembered a family of normal people acted like.  

Lucifer was watching you, and you looked back at him. He gave you an exasperated look, and you purred into the blanket and sighed.  

This was your home now. These were your Masters. Demons, but still... They were yours.  

[clanoffetts]

Like Real People Do, Part 3

series summary: Kyra Esson, a pilot trying to forget her past, takes Jango Fett up on an offer. It's supposed to be her last hurrah before she settles down, but she can't seem to leave the bounty hunter, no matter how hard they both try.

word count: 2k

warnings: 18+, NSFW. Fluff; Eventual Smut maybe; Slow Burn; uh oh jango catches feelings; Yearning; Dirty Thoughts; ; severe misunderstanding of Slave I’s layout; (M) masturbation

The ship’s hum lulled Kyra to sleep that night and gently brought her out of it the next morning. When she sat up in the cot, her neck was stiff and her back desperately needed to be popped. How the actual fuck did this man sleep here every night? Maybe that’s why he was eager to sleep in the pilot’s seat.

“You awake?” He calls up the ladder. 

“Barely,” Kyra calls back, standing and stretching her limbs. 

Jango hadn’t been awake long, it seemed, as his voice was gruff and his curly hair was a mess atop his head. “You want one?” He asks as Kyra makes her way down into the main hole. He’s holding up some kind of bread in his hand, and it’s half eaten.

“What is it?” 

“Bread.”

Kyra nods. “Sure.” 

Jango grabs a pack of something from a crate and a bowl that he fills with water. He rips the packet open with his teeth, and Kyra sucks in a breath, the action hitting her straight in her stomach. She exhales shakily, watching Jango dump the contents of the packet into the bowl. 

“Like magic,” he says, watching the powder soak the water until it forms a roll of bread, just like his own. “There you go.” 

Kyra bites into it, instantly regretting the size of her bite. “It tastes like nothing.”

“Rather it tastes like nothing than taste like bantha shit,” Jango shrugs. 

-

The rest of the day is boring. Jango isn’t much of a talker, Kyra realizes, and their banter is an exception not a rule for the Mandalorian. Jango had sat silently across the room in his armor, sans helmet, tinkering with something on his workbench. 

Jango grunts every time he tightens a bolt, putting all his force into it, making the bolt almost impossible to loosen. And his grunts pry into Kyra’s mind, through the novel she’s trying to read on her ‘pad. 

Jango watches her in his peripheral, shifting in her seat while her eyes keep steady on the words in front of her. Her hair isn’t up today, he notices, instead it’s in long black waves down her back, almost reaching the swell of her- 

Stop , he brings his attention back to the weapon he’s working on. The damned thing doesn’t even need to be fixed, but he’s never met someone that makes it hard to talk. Usually, it’s a choice for Jango to withdraw, but this woman has him unable . It’s not that she matches him in his banter, at least not in a way he can understand, but it’s her nonchalance. He’s a kriffing Mandalorian, and she didn’t care. It’s the Pamarthe in her, he thinks. That’s what it is. It has to be. 

-

Dinner goes the same. Jango’s teeth rip open two packets at once, and Kyra gulps. Her roll comes out wonky, slightly soggy. 

“Here,” Jango says, holding out his. “Have mine, that one looks awful.”

“I’m sure it’s fine-“

“Kyra,” Jango says her name for the first time. “Take mine, it’s the least I can do.”

“You’re letting me stay on your ship and use your bed, the least I can do is eat soggy bread,” she replies, but he still sits across from her, hand out. “Fine.” Their hands brush slightly with the exchange, and both finish their dinner fairly quickly. 

-

The evening is boring, as hyperspace often is, but Jango doesn’t help. He answers questions with short answers, and he doesn’t ask any in return. Finally, Kyra excuses herself.

“Goodnight, Jango,” she says, her voice coasting over his name like no one else’s. 

All he can muster is a curt nod. 

When Jango steps into the ‘fresher a few hours later, he stares at himself in the small mirror. He examines his skin, where the scars cut deep and where a little bit of bacta could’ve prevented scarring, if he hadn’t been stubborn. 

Jango grabs his shirt by the collar, pulling it over his head. His chest is littered with small scratches, too, and his arms, where there aren’t tattoos. The middle of his chest has a bacta bandage on it, right between his pectorals. He’d applied it that morning, hoping it would ease the ache left behind there. He was wrong. 

Jango pulls it off quickly, depositing it in a wastebasket. The scar is still pronounced, he knew it would be, he’s never taken care of wounds very well. 

The water of the shower is hot, numbing the pain on Jango’s sternum. The water runs down his body, over the curve of his muscles and through the curls of his hair. 

Jango’s mind wanders to the woman sleeping in his bunk. She seems to only have the one scar across her left brow, and her porcelain skin was covered in scratches from the sand, but no scars of Jango’s caliber. 

He thinks back to her long hair, it looked so soft , reaching the soft curve of her ass while she read. Stop , he scolds himself. But it’s too late, his cock is hardening under the stream of water. 

He pushes any thought of Kyra out of his head, You fucking creep, he thinks, and instead pulls disembodied images of women and men from various holoporn videos he’s seen over his years. Jango’s rough hand grasps his cock, tugging fast and hard, trying to get this over with. 

Jango hopes his stray groans and swears are covered by the stream of water from the showerhead. “Kriffing hells,” he groans as he comes, the final image that flashes in his head is Kyra, sitting reading in the hold of his ship with that hair of hers down.

“Fucking creep,” Jango tells himself as he washes his release from his hand. 

When he steps out of the shower, wrapping his towel around his waist he steps back in front of the mirror. Jango wipes the fog from the mirror, and stares at himself again. He then reaches to a cabinet, pulling another bacta patch and unwrapping it. He lays it across his sternum, pushing gently to get it to stick. Kriffing things aren’t working, he thinks. They said they’ll work and I’ll be able to hunt-

There’s a thud from the front of the ship, and Jango rushes from the ‘fresher. “Are you ok?” He calls up to the bunk.

“Yeah, yeah sorry,” Kyra replies. “Dropped my datapad, sorry.”

She’s in her pajamas, her hair is in a loose braid from the nape of her neck. She’s reaching to the floor from the bunk, grabbing the ‘pad from the floor. “Oh,” Jango says. “Ok.”

Kyra watches him watching her, her eyes wander to the dark hair at his navel, the towel dangerously low. And then she notices the bacta patch. “Are you ok?”

“Hmm?”

“The bacta patch, are you ok?”

He lays a hand over his chest. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Kyra stares at his large hand, covering his toned chest, and tries her hardest to mask it as concern for the bacta patch. 

“Good,” she says. “I’m glad.” 

It’s awkward for a moment, the two just looking at each other. “Well,” Jango says, turning back. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Jango.” 

Why’d she have to say my kriffing name again, he thinks as he makes his way back to the ‘fresher. Many people don’t say his first name, and if they do, it’s because they’re pleading. Otherwise, he’s just “Fett”. But not to her . 

Jango steps into sweatpants and then pulls a matching black t-shirt over his head. He climbs into the cockpit, hissing at the pain in his chest. The chair isn’t comfortable, not to sleep in, and he almost wishes he had taken Kyra up on her offer to sleep in the pilot’s seat instead. Almost. 

-

The next day is much of the same, ration packets distributed and made, small talk avoided by Jango. 

“Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re injured you should be sleeping in your own bed,” Kyra says, taking their bowls from breakfast to wash in the kitchenette. 

Jango nods. “I’m fine, Kyra, I promise.” Jango is taken by surprise by saying her name, and he can’t see it, but she is too. Her name feels foreign on his tongue, but he likes it. Almost like the first time he tasted a foreign whiskey, but this was better.  

“Well then, Jango,” Kyra says, her voice breathier than normal, hoping Jango can’t pick up on it. And in his own frenzy, he doesn’t. “If you change your mind just tell me. No hard feelings.” 

Jango says nothing, instead he just watches her. “Why do you do lekku braids everyday?”

“Lekku braids?” “Isn’t that what those are called?” He gestures to the two braids on her head, starting at her forehead and weaving all the way down to the nape of her neck and then some. “Or do you call them something different on Pamarthe?”

“I think I’ve heard them called that before,” she replies, shocked that Jango has entered a talkative mood again. “I’ve never really called them anything. They make my long hair easier to manage, that’s why I like them.”

“Why don’t you just cut it, then?” Jango knew many women who cut their hair short, making life under a helmet easier. It was part of many Mandalorians’ show of discipline. 

Kyra shrugs. “Because I don’t want to.” 

“Sometimes we have to do many things we don’t want to.”

Kyra looks at him. Was he trying to be profound? “Yes,” she agrees. “But I don’t have to. Are you trying to say I’d look better with short hair?”

Jango shakes his head. Kriffing hells, you’ve fumbled it. “No, no, not at all,” he says. “I- I quite like your hair, really. I was just curious, that's all.”

“Mm,” Kyra hums, drying the breakfast bowls trying to make sense of the man sitting behind her. 

Jango watches her, her braids swishing with every movement. He tries his hardest to keep his gaze from her thighs in her leggings, and when he can’t he stands, clearing his throat. “I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Are you sure? We could always hang out a little, you know, and watch a holo. It won’t kill you.” 

With you, it might, he thinks. So he pushes himself away. A talent of his, really. “Quite sure.” 

He’s back with the short sentences, the curt nods, and the quick turns. Kyra watches him climb up to the cockpit, her brows furrowed. Odd man, she thinks as she makes her way back to a chair, setting up her ‘pad to watch a show.

-

The whole day is just that, Kyra in the hold watching a holodrama and Jango in the cockpit listening to the holodrama. He wants to go down there, he wants to see the story between the Twi’leki man and the Pantoran woman unfold, their fighting families keeping them apart for the sake of their businesses- Jango feels quite stupid for being so invested, but he is. He’s put his helmet on to listen better, so he can hear every dramatic gasp leave every character’s mouth. 

-

“We’ll land tomorrow at…” he checks a screen, “2100 hours, Pamarthe time.” 

“We won’t be landing at 2100 hours,” Kyra says. “I’m not flying into Pamarthe in the dark. Not on a foreign ship.”

“Why?”

“You should do more research,” she tells him. “Pamarthens are very particular on who can land. There are stories of ancient warriors that will come back to attack. And, well, Pamarthe is always ready for their return. It’ll be easier in the daylight.” 

“That’s stupid,” Jango says. 

Kyra’s face contorts with offense. “Amaxine warriors were very real on Pamarthe. It’s no more stupid than Mandalore exiling Mandalorian-”

“Do not speak about Mandalore,” Jango snaps, his finger pointing at her as she sits in the co-pilot’s seat. “Do not speak about something you do not know.” He stands, retreating down from the cockpit and into the hold.

“Then don’t be a hypocrite and do the same, Fett.”

[toomuchtv95]

Come Home

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader, Will Halstead x Platonic!Reader

Warning/s: Sick reader, Fluff, swearing

Word Count: 1.2k+

Request: Can u write a story in which the reader is Will best friends, and she very sick, he can't leave her alone so he calls his brother (reader's ex) to stay with her for the night?

Masterlist Mobile Masterlist

(Credits to owner of gif.)

“Are you sure that this is okay?” Jay walked through the threshold of your apartment after Will called him.

“No, but I didn’t have anyone else to call and I can’t leave her alone.” Will grabbed his coat from the coat rack. “She’ll be mad, but she will get over it.” Will grabbed his phone, wallet, and badge from the hall table before turning back to face Jay. “Look, just keep an eye on her. She’s was severely dehydrated, I had her on an IV drip at the hospital and she’s had a fever of 100.” Will fixed the collar on his coat as he looked at Jay who was tossing his coat on the back of the couch. “Okay, I gotta go. If she starts to get worse again, bring her back in.” With that said, Will exits your apartment leaving Jay alone with you.

As Jay looked around your apartment, he saw the mess that was scattered around, which made him shake his head. As Jay walked down the hall to the bedroom the two of you used to share, he came to a stop outside the bedroom door to see your sleeping figure stretched out on the bed. Jay walked over to the side of the bed, coving you with the blanket from the edge of the bed in the process.

A few hours later, you were still sleeping, which allowed Jay to clean up the apartment, and cooking something for you to eat for when you wake up. Jay missed this. He missed you more than anything. He knows he messed up. He should have never left you, but he needed time to sort things out with Abby. He hated how he left things with you. He loves you more than words can express and when Will called him today, he realized that he needs to fix things with you fast before he loses you forever.

“I should have figured he call you.” Jay turned around from the sink to see you standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Yeah, well Will had to get back to the hospital and he didn’t know who else to call.” You were surprised that Will hadn’t called Jay the moment you were admitted to the hospital and that he waited this long to call Jay. You slowly walked the rest of the way into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table.

“Oh yeah, no one else.” You mumbled to yourself as Jay placed both a glass of water and a bowl of soup in front of you. “I’m not hungry.” You ran a hand down your face to wipe the sleep away.

“You have to eat something.” Jay walked over to the drawer with the silverware and grabbed a spoon.

You studied the soup before realizing that this was your favorite soup and the only person that knew how to make it right was Jay. “Wait, did you make this?” You looked up at Jay and immediately locking eyes with Jay.

“It’s not a big deal.” Jay handed you the spoon as he sat across from you at the table. Looking at Jay, you realized that in this very moment that you missed Jay more than thought and you should have stopped him leaving all those months ago.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Jay reached over giving your hand a light squeeze with a soft smile on your face.

After eating, Jay convinced you to take a shower even though you didn’t want to, but Jay has a way of getting you to do things. After taking a shower, you sat on the edge of the bed that you use to share with Jay which caused tears to form in your eyes. It’s only been a few months since Jay packed his bags, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Looking around the room, you notice all the little things use to be scattered around the room that used to belong to Jay that were missing from the room you once shared with Jay. You meet Jay a few years ago when your law firm was working on a case that Intelligence was working on. After the case was closed, Jay had invited you to Molly’s to celebrate the winning of the case which you accepted. Since that night at Molly’s, you and Jay instantly clicked and the two of you quickly became an item.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit you, and it was so intense that you barely made it to the bathroom. As you hugged the toilet, hot tears formed in your eyes as you empty the contains of your stomach into the toilet. As you leaned over the toilet, you suddenly felt Jay standing behind you, grabbing your hair, and rubbing your back in the process. Once your stomach was empty, you unconsciously leaned back against Jay as you ran your hand down your face. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You slowly got up from the floor with the help of Jay. “You shouldn’t have to do this.” As you walked over to the sink, you rinsed out your mouth before splashing water on your face.

“What are talking about?”

“This.” You patted your face with a towel before turning around to look at Jay. “We aren’t together another, you shouldn’t be here taking care of me like your still my boyfriend.” You tossed the towel on the counter before shoving past him and into the bedroom.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore. You were in the hospital with severe food poisoning along with a fever of 100 and you were dehydrated.” Jay followed you through the bedroom into the living room.

“Look, I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.” You were in no mood to deal with Jay tonight. Your head was pounding, you felt slightly dizzy and your stomach was starting to feel queasy, and all you wanted to do was lay in bed.

“You are so stubborn,” Jay mumbled to himself as plopped yourself on the couch.

“Yeah, well that hasn’t changed.” You heard Jay chuckled as he took a seat next to you. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before you did the one thing you have been wanting to do since the moment Jay left. “I want you to come home.”

“What?” Jay was taken back to your statement.

“I should have stopped you from leaving.” You slightly turned to face him. “I love you and I miss you more than anything and I just want you to come home.” Jay reached over moving a piece of hair behind your ear before he leaned in resting his forehead against yours. “Please just say you come back. We can work out the whole Abby marriage thing together. I don’t care-” Before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Jay gently crushed his lips against yours. After a few moments, you pulled away and rested your forehead against his again. “Is this mean you’re coming home?”

“Nothing would make me happier than to come back home.” Jay smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“Good, because I really missed you.” You smiled as Jay laid back on the couch pulling you on top of him. You laid your head on his chest as he gently stroked your hair.

“I love you,” Jay mumbled into your hair as he rubbed your back.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[sickfic-shiz]

Rest

Whumptober 2021 | Comfort

Warnings: emeto/vomiting (stomach bug)

Notes: thought I’d post a piece of writing for the first time in a long long while, introducing some new characters! I’d love to talk more about them and answer any asks about them!

“You’re sick, go back to the dorm.” Muqing repeated for what felt like the fiftieth time in the two hours they had been studying together in the campus library.

Wu Ming was shivering miserably as he tried to focus on his notes, even beneath two jackets— one being Muqing’s which they had shrugged off and wrapped around him after watching him tremble for the first half an hour. It didn’t take a genius to tell that he wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m fine. I’m always cold. You know that.” Wu Ming replied with the same thing each time, scowling down at the words swimming on the page as if they had offended him. He knew fully well he was sick, or at least getting there, but he couldn’t afford to let his grades slip.

“Jesus, at least go back and take a nap first or something, how are you getting anything done?” Muqing grumbled irritably, before softening his tone somewhat. “C’mon, I’ll even walk you back if you want.”

“I really need to finish revising this. Just focus on yourself.” Wu Ming sighed, briefly leaning his forehead on his palm. “Believe me, I don’t want to be here either.”

Muqing muttered something under his breath pointedly, standing up in a manner that made his annoyance clear. “Fine. I’m going to take a break.”

Wu Ming watched him stalk away, before letting his facade crumble a little more, laying down on the table with a muffled groan. Truth be told, he felt awful. He was cold and shivery, and his stomach had started to feel oddly unsettled. His head was starting to hurt something fierce, and he hardly wanted to think about how he would get through his shift at work later.

“Hey.” Muqing’s voice came from above him some time later, and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I bought you some tea, it might help. You really should get some rest. At least before your shift.”

Wu Ming picked up the paper cup that had been set in front of him, immediately grateful for the warmth. He took a few small sips, finding it a welcome change from shivering. It was true he wasn’t getting much done right now. “Fine, you win.”

“Really?” The agreement surprised him. As much as he wanted Wu Ming to get some rest, he was also ridiculously stubborn.

“Sure. There isn’t much time left before work anyway. In exchange, get me some stuff from the pharmacy.”

“Okay, asshole. I’m not buying you tea ever again.” Muqing made a show of rolling his eyes, but still reached over to help pack and carry his things. “What do you want me to get you?”

When he returned with the requested medicine, (and several things that were, decidedly, not medicine, Wu Ming was a horrible scam) Wu Ming was curled up in bed, fast asleep. Muqing smiled despite himself, bending down to pull the covers up and wrapping them snugly around him. He rarely seemed to let himself rest, and Muqing almost never saw him go to sleep before he did.

He took the time to sort out the supplies he had picked up— painkillers, fever reducer and an antiemetic from the pharmacy, (the latter two he had gotten just in case) followed by green tea, canned soup and crackers from the supermarket. Muqing figured he could boil some water first, so he could bring the tea with him to work. The kettle boiled just as Wu Ming’s phone alarm went off, and Wu Ming moaned, sitting up groggily.

“You really are in no condition to be working.” Muqing remarked, even though he knew that it wouldn’t do anything to convince him. Instead, he pressed the back of his hand to Wu Ming’s neck to check for a fever, and he wasn’t particularly surprised to find that it was too warm. “Take your temperature first. If it’s too high, I’m dragging you to the hospital no matter what you say.”

Wu Ming took the thermometer that was held out to him obediently, still hazy with sleep. Muqing took it from him when it beeped, frowning. 37.9. To be fair, it wasn’t very high, but he almost wished it would be higher so he could justify manhandling Wu Ming back to bed.

“Did you get the tea?” Wu Ming asked, rubbing at his face in an attempt to wake himself up.

“Yeah, I boiled some water already, I’ll put the tea in a thermos for you so you can bring it to work.”

“Mm.”

“Take some medicine before you leave. I got you your painkillers and a fever reducer too.” Muqing handed the medication over, and placed a glass of water on the table. “Don’t take too many painkillers again or I will hit you and it will hurt.”

“Okay, okay. That was just one time.” Wu Ming fumbled with the packaging, his hands shaking more than he’d like as he took the pills. He didn’t feel much better after his short nap. In fact, his stomach was churning now, making him feel as if he would be sick.

“You could call in sick.” Muqing suggested, knowing it would be futile.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, because you’re too fucking stubborn.” Muqing glared at him, resisting the urge to just knock him out with a heavy book so he would rest. “Better not get a call asking me to pick you up later.”

Work didn’t start out too badly— he was just manning the register today, and it was a fairly straightforward job, even if he was standing right beneath the AC. Most importantly, it was at some high end grocer’s attached to a cafe, so it paid really well. However, it didn’t take long for his sick body to start protesting against the strain he was putting it through. Wu Ming alternated wildly between feeling hot and cold, and the shirt beneath his jacket was drenched in cold sweat after a few of these cycles.

Thank god he had worn a mask out. Forcing himself to sound cheerful was enough of a challenge, let alone having to muster up a smile. He took sips of tea from his flask in between customers, hoping that it would at least settle his stomach. He was so dizzy— at some points it was so bad that his vision was blurring and he was forced to guess at what he was doing.

Suddenly, he realised that he was about to throw up. Wu Ming caught the attention of his coworker, then gestured towards the bathrooms, not trusting himself to speak without throwing up. He didn’t think he could’ve spoken anyway, his throat feeling tight. After getting a response, he hurried towards the bathroom as much as he could without making it obvious that he was about to be sick.

Wu Ming was forced to tear off his mask and retch into the tiny bin by the entrance several times, bringing up a gush of liquid before he could stumble into one of the stalls. Hunching over the bowl, he braced himself against the wall with one hand, the other wrapped tightly around his stomach as he heaved. Wu Ming aimed as best as he could, trying to reduce the mess, but some of the puke splattered onto the seat regardless of his efforts. At least it was mostly liquid, most likely the all tea he had been drinking… as well as the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything since early this morning, probably.

Wu Ming sank into a squat slowly, his legs feeling weak, yet still not wanting to kneel on the tiles. He needed to hurry up if he didn’t want anyone to get suspicious. He dry heaved a few times, then decided that he was done, at least for now. He cleaned up the splatters of vomit left on the toilet seat before flushing, ignoring how the swirl of water made him feel sick all over again. Wu Ming stood at the sinks for a while, staring at his sickly appearance and splashing some water on his face to wake himself up. As he turned to leave, his coworker entered, calling his name. Shit. He had taken too long after all.

“Manager sent me to check if you’d passed out in here.” They joked. “You okay? You’re looking a little ghostly there.

“I’m fine, I was just…” The nausea returned in full force, catching him off guard. Wu Ming spun around, gagging into the sink.

“Oh dear…” They gaped as he threw up into the sink painfully, awkwardly reaching over to pat his back. “Um, you’ll feel better after getting it up?”

“I’m fine.” Wu Ming gasped between retches. “Just give me a minute.”

They nodded, watching him uncomfortably. It looked brutal, the way his shoulders shook badly with each heave.

“Sorry.” Wu Ming murmured apologetically when he was done, turning on the tap to rinse away any remnants of his stomach contents left in the sink. “We should head back before we get in trouble.”

“You should go home if you’re sick.”

“I’m not.” Wu Ming said a little more harshly than he had intended as he put his mask back on. He was so tired of being pressured to stop doing things. If he could afford it, he would’ve gone to bed long ago. Still, he hadn’t meant to snap. “I’m really fine. Let’s go back.”

“Alright, alright.”

They headed out together, and Wu Ming took up his position at the register again. It was terribly hard to focus through everything going on. The painkillers he had taken had started to wear off already, and he bit his lip anxiously. He should’ve brought them with him to make sure he’d get through his shift, though the bigger challenge would’ve been making sure it didn’t come back up right away.

“Ah Ming?”

Wu Ming’s head snapped up to see the next ‘customer’ he was meant to be serving, coming face to face with his boyfriend. “Guoqin? What are you doing?”

“Checking on you, what else? Muqing said you’d gone to work sick, and I was worried— you weren’t looking at your texts.”

“I’m fine.” Wu Ming had lost track of how many times he had said this today, reaching for his basket to ring up the items. “You know I don’t text when I’m working.”

“You look dead on your feet.” Guoqin furrowed his brow, helping Wu Ming to pack the scanned items. “I’m bringing you to see a doctor after your shift at least.”

“I don’t- no doctors.” Wu Ming tried his best to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth and ignore the splashes of acid at the back of his throat. There was no way he would convince Guoqin if he threw up now. “I’m really perfectly fine. I just need some sleep.”

Guoqin studied him closely. There was no way he was well, but it would be nigh impossible to get him to a clinic if he was so adamant. “Fine, no doctors, but I’ll send you back to your room later, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” Wu Ming didn’t think he could say any more without making a mess on the floor, so he kept quiet, hoping that Guoqin would leave. He managed it for all of about five seconds before his roiling gut decided that it was done with being ignored and he muttered a hurried apology before tugging his mask out of the way and booking it for the toilets.

Wu Ming slammed the stall door shut behind him, scrambling into a kneeling position in front of the toilet, too desperate to care about the cleanliness of the floor. He had barely managed to contain the vomit on the way over using his hand, which was now covered in light brown puke. He groaned in disgust even as he gagged into the toilet, now struggling futilely against bringing up the thicker remains of his breakfast. The tea was one thing, but Wu Ming hated few things more than wasting food. It had been a fairly good breakfast too…

The thought of food sent him over the edge, and he quickly lost the battle against the nausea. Gripping the side of the bowl tightly with his clean hand, the vomit sprayed forcefully into the toilet, now unrecognisable.

“Ah Ming, are you okay? Can you let me in?”

“I couldn’t-hrrRRK- get up for long enough, even if I wanted to.” Scratch that. Being seen— well heard, this time, in such a compromising position, twice in one day no less, was a far worse fate than losing his sausage and egg muffin. “Please, just… go outside. I don’t want you to be here for this.”

“Okay.” Guoqin finally agreed. He was worried, but he knew he would only add to Wu Ming’s bruised pride if he stayed. “I’ll be right outside.”

Wu Ming stamped down the urge to beg him to stay.

When he finally felt done, or at least too empty to bring anything up in the near future, he lay his forehead on the toilet seat, too exhausted to care. Hopefully he wouldn’t catch anything else from the germs. Wu Ming stayed in that position for several long minutes before he could muster the energy to get up. He reached up to flush the toilet, then slowly got to his feet, trying his best to breathe through the sudden vertigo. For a moment, he believed he was about to pass out right there. When it had abated slightly, Wu Ming left the stall to wash the puke off his hand, before heading out.

“Ah Ming, how are you feeling?”

…right, Guoqin had said that he’d wait outside.

“I’m…” Wu Ming had meant to say he was fine, but he was assaulted with a lightheadedness that knocked the breath out of his lungs. He couldn’t stop himself from tipping forwards, and the last thing he remembered before passing out was being caught.

When he came to, it took him a while to figure out that he was laying on one of the couches meant for the customers. It took him a bit longer after that to realize that his head wasn’t on a pillow, but in Guoqin’s lap. After he’d made that connection, his face flushed, and he weakly tried to sit up.

“Hey, stay down for a bit, you passed out.” Guoqin pressed him down firmly but gently, then pressed a hand to Wu Ming’s forehead. “You’re burning up, dear. I think I caught you in time, but do you think you hit anything when you fell?”

“No, thanks to you.” Wu Ming mumbled. He was so tired now that the thought of getting up felt overwhelming, not to mention going back to work. “How long…?”

“Just about five minutes. How are you feeling?”

“Sick…” No shit, Wu Ming berated himself internally.

“Yeah?” Guoqin hummed sympathetically, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. “Your manager said you should take the rest of the day off.”

“I… I want to go home.” God, he was getting all emotional and Wu Ming hated it.

“Okay, let’s get you back to the dorms. I’m sure Muqing will be worried.”

“He- he’s mad at me…” Wu Ming’s voice shook unnaturally, recalling what Muqing had said when he left. “He told me not to call him.”

“Shhh, that’s just the fever talking, you know that’s not true.” Guoqin reassured him. “That’s just the way he speaks, but he’d never stay mad at you. After all, didn’t he ask me to check on you?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay, do you think you’re ready to head back? I’ve got all your stuff ready to go.”

“Mm.”

[13-reasons-ideas]

Can’t Go Back Part 18

A/N: This chapter got away from me a bit. It’s over 6 thousand words so tuck in guys. I hope you like it. And as I’ve said before, any time a character gets sick in this, it’s nothing more than a flu or common bug. Given this is a Before chapter, COVID didn't exist, but just given the situation currently. I feel like it is important to say that. Just a note on temperature. According to Google 52 degrees F is roughly 11 degrees C. 45 degrees F is roughly 6 degrees C. For my fellow non-USians. Feedback is appreciated as always and much love. -Em

Winter formal was upon us. It was only one day out now. Jeff was still on me about going, like he had been for weeks. I still had no intention of going. And as luck would have it, I had just run into the perfect excuse not to go. I woke up Friday morning to my stomach cramping and churning. Oh god this is awful. I feel like I got hit by a truck. Before I even had time to wake up wake up, I rolled over and grabbed my trashcan. My body shook as I coughed. Sitting up, I flung my legs over the side of my bed. My mom knocked on the door. “Addison? Are you alright honey?”

“Yeah Mom. I’m okay. Just not feeling very well.” She opened the door and peeked inside.

“Let me check your temperature.”

“Can I brush my teeth first?” Mum looked around the room cautiously.

“Of course. I’ll be downstairs. Come down whenever you’re ready.” I nodded and held my stomach.

I went downstairs once my teeth were cleaned and I had rinsed my mouth several times. Mum and dad were in the kitchen. I groaned. The smell of coffee brewing was making me queasy. “I already called the school. You’re staying home today.” Mum said, coming to fawn over me. I waved her off.

“Okay. I’ll call Justin and tell him he needs to get himself to school.” I grabbed a pack of saltines and a Gatorade to take upstairs.

“Feel better.” Dad called after me. I heard him say to mum that it probably wasn’t really that bad. “She should still go to school.” Mum didn’t answer. I changed into a different pair of pyjamas and crawled into bed. My crackers and juice were set neatly on the nightstand by my bed. I grabbed the book I was reading last night. As a last-minute decision, I grabbed my trash can and pulled it closer to the bed.

I called Justin after I got comfortable. “Hello?”

“Morning Justy.”

“Morning Addy.”

“I’m sick.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You’ll need to find your own way to school today.”

“I can do that. Are you sure you’re sick? Or are you just trying to get out of going to Formal?”

“I have crackers and Gatorade. I wasn’t even out of bed yet.”

“Oh.” He exclaimed. “Um. Yeah. You stay in bed. And remember to drink water. And dry toast.”

“I will. Can you grab my homework? And tell Jeff Atkins that I’m sorry I won’t get to enjoy the magic of Winter Formal tomorrow.”

“Sure thing. Feel better.”

“Mhmm. Love you.”

“Love you too.” I rolled over in bed and tried to get a little more sleep. It was a useless venture. I spent half an hour tossing and turning. I couldn’t get comfortable. It was too hot with the blankets on. It was too cold with them off. One leg out didn’t feel much better. My head was starting to hurt. My stomach was doing flips and cramping. Frustrated, I threw the covers off and went to the bathroom. The bottle of Tylenol was shoved in the back of the medicine cabinet. I took two of the foil packets and went back to bed.

Briefly, my mind went there. I had a flash of another kind of foil packet. And a flash of a calendar. My eyes widened slightly before I counted. Then I remembered that we hadn’t not used a condom, ever. I had an IUD. We were protected either way for…. I couldn’t think the word. We also hadn’t had sex in a month. And I had gotten my period between then and now. I sighed in relief. That thought did make me realize I hadn’t texted Monty yet. I took my phone again and saw that he had texted me about fifteen minutes ago.  

Morning Addison. I swiped left and his message opened.

Morning Montgomery.

You’re up late this morning.

I’ve actually been up.

Oh? Everything okay?

Yes and no.

??

I’m kind of sick. But it’s nothing to worry about.

You sure?

Yeah. I’m alright. Just need to eat my crackers, drink my juice, and sleep. On the plus side, I can get out of going to the dance without lying to Jeff Atkins.

I can come by tonight if you want.

I’ll think about it.

Okay. A few minutes later he sent me another text. Why do you call him Jeff Atkins and not just Jeff?

I dunno. He calls me Addison Hawthorne. No one else does it. It’s kind of just a thing we do.

Can I call you by your full name?

No.

Not even occasionally?

No.

Why?

Is your name Jeff Atkins?

No?

Then there is your answer.

Fine, fine. Feel better, okay?

I’ll try.

I’ll text you later baby.

Mmkay. The Tylenol I took was starting to kick in and my eyelids were getting heavy. Before I could drop it, I put my phone on the nightstand. I woke up again around noon. My stomach was feeling a little better, so I sat up and ate a few crackers slowly. The medicine had worn off by now. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my missed notifications for a bit. Nothing too interesting had happened. I sighed heavily and tossed my phone to the side of my bed.

My book was more interesting than I expected it to be, and soon enough I was almost done. The tri-tone buzz of my phone distracted me. I rested the book in my lap and grumbled to myself. “Who’s texting me now?” It was Jeff Atkins.

Hey Addison Hawthore. Justin tells me you’re sick. I hope you aren’t trying to just avoid the dance.

Jeff Atkins. I would NEVER. I am definitely sick. Doesn’t seem like anything major though. Probably be at school Monday. I trust you will give me a very thorough report on all things Clay Jensen and Hannah Baker?

Glad to hear. Leah says feel better by the way. I’ll find you.

Tell her thank you. Now. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m almost done my book.

See you Monday Addison. I didn’t answer him. I texted Monty instead.

Don’t worry about coming over tonight. I should be fine by Sunday. I’ll see you Monday.

Sounds good.

The rest of the day I lounged in bed. My mum came in to check on me when she got home. Saturday was much of the same as Friday. I stayed in bed. I read another book. I slept. My illness was doing better. Not well enough to go to the dance, but I could handle toast which was a good sign. Justin called me while he was getting ready at Bryce’s.

“Hey Justin, what’s up?”

“Getting ready with Bryce and the guys.” I could hear the boys roughhousing in the background and Justin’s voice seemed far away. He must have had me on speaker.

“Hi boys.”

“Hey.” They called back.

“You stuck me with him tonight.”

“I’m sick Bryce. I would not be very much fun or help at the dance tonight.”

“You say you’re sick.” Bryce kidded back. He must be in a good mood.

“Would you like me to describe to you in detail what I spent my day doing yesterday?”

“Not really.”

“Didn’t think so. Now boys.”

“Yeah Addy?” Justin asked.

“I need all of your attention.”

“We’re listening.” Zach laughed.

“Oh no. Is she going to give us the lecture?”

“What lecture?” Anders asked.

“Yes. She is.” I said. “Please try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum.”

“But they’re fun.” Justin complained.

“So is not getting arrested. Do not add to the population. Remember that is often a permanent commitment.  However, I do support the right to choose. Do not fight anyone tonight. And please, for the love of God, if you are going to drink, do not spike the punch bowl. Do not be that guy. And don’t be messy drunk. I want to hear no stories about messy drunk athletes come Monday. And another thing, do not drink and drive. If you need a ride, my mum is perfectly happy to go get you and take you home.”

“She took the fun out of a dance in two minutes.” Someone grumbled.

“That was not me taking the fun out. I’m more than okay with some shenanigans. I encourage some. Please have fun for me. I just don’t want you getting anyone pregnant. You’re all old enough to go to the drugstore or the corner store and buy yourselves some damn condoms. If I can go do it, so can you. As for the drinking and driving thing, a DUI is bad. Especially when you’re underage. My mum likes Justin. So she will gladly give someone a ride if they need.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You have condoms?” Bryce asked.

“I’m not the Virgin Mary.”

“Who could you possibly be having sex with?”

“None of your business. And I swear Bryce if you say Justin.” I laughed. I may have said too much.

“You’ll what?”

“She won’t anything. I will.” Justin laughed.

“Oh! One more thing. Don’t screw up Clay’s night.”

“Fine. We won’t. Gotta go, bye.” Bryce said. I could hear him grumbling before Justin hung up. “Wonder how far she’ll go with Jensen, hey Justy?” I rolled my eyes. How can he go from fun and not horrible to a disgusting pig in thirty seconds flat?

By Monday, I was back to feeling like myself. I grabbed a soft cream sweater from my closet and paired it with a floral skirt. A worn in pair of black combat boots and silver studs rounded out the look. I left my hair down to let it air dry without a weird kink in it. Bounding down the stairs, I smiled brightly at my parents. “Morning mum. Morning dad.”

“Morning sweetie.” My mum laughed brightly. My dad looked at me strangely.

“You’re awfully happy this morning.” My smile faltered slightly.

“Well, I’m not physically sick today. I think that warrants being happy. And it’s the last few days before winter break.” There was a voice in the back of my head I tried to ignore. I was happy. I plastered on a smile and grabbed a packet of oatmeal. Silently, I warmed my milk and stirred my breakfast. My parents were going over their schedules for the day. It was just about grade deadline for mum, so she had a stack of tests and papers in her office. Dad was already prepping for tax season in a couple of months. The office at work was stacked too, I’m sure.

“I’m going to take this to school.” I mumbled.

At school, I grabbed my cup of oatmeal to eat before class. “Peaches and cream. Interesting.”

“Jesus.” I gasped. “Morning Monty.”

“Morning Addy.” I began walking to my locker. He fell into step beside me.

“Did you need something?” I was sure people were watching us.

“No. Just wanted to say hi.”

“Okay? You know we are at school, right?”

“Yes. We have chemistry together. Is it really so bad to walk to your locker together?”

“I don’t know Monty.”

“For all anyone knows, I’m looking for Bryce. Who will probably be with Justin. Who will be at your locker.”

“I guess.” I sighed. I handed him my cup of oatmeal. “If you’re going to follow me to my locker, hold this while I get my spoon.” Pulling my bag around me, I took the spoon from the front pocket. Monty handed back my breakfast for me to eat while we walked.

“Peaches and cream oatmeal.” He muttered.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just making a mental note.” He smirked. I could see the smile behind his eyes though.

“It was on sale. It was this or plain and plain oatmeal is….”

“Plain.”

“Exactly.”

We made it to my locker, where it just so happened that Justin was waiting for me. With my least favorite white boy in tow. “Hey Justin. Walker.”

“Addy.” Bryce nodded.

“Feeling better?”

“Much. What did I miss Friday?”

“Not a whole lot.” Justin shrugged.

“A better question would be what did we miss?” Bryce asked, looking between Monty and I.

“I was on my way in when I saw her pull in. Figured I’d stop and tell her about what she missed in chem.”

“Which apparently wasn’t much.” I shrugged, scraping the last of my breakfast up. “I need to go to class. I expect a full report on what I missed at the dance at lunch.”

“Jeff will give you one. Don’t worry.” Justin laughed. “You’re awfully invested in Clay and Hannah.”

“I could have been invested in you and Hannah. But….” I looked at Bryce briefly. “Here we are.”

“I don’t think she put out for him, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Monty added.

“Gross.”

“Don’t think he would even know how.” Bryce laughed.

“And I’m leaving. Be nice boys.”

My classes were abuzz with talk of the Winter Formal. Mostly talking about what so and so wore, or who such and such was dancing with, or that one song Tony played that went like this or that. Clearly, I hadn’t missed much. Apparently, Jessica had had one or four too many nips off Bryce’s flask. I rolled my eyes internally. I mean, at least the boys weren’t messy. By the time lunch came, I was excited to hear about anything that wasn’t the dance. I knew, of course, that wouldn’t be the case. But still.

Sliding into my usual seat next to Justin, I placed my head on the table. “What’s eating you?” Scott asked.

“Nothing. I’m just bored of hearing about the dance.”

“It wasn’t that bad. And you haven’t heard Jeff’s retelling of Clay Jensen and Hannah Baker’s dance.”

“I want to hear about that. And then nothing else.” He nodded in understanding.

“Seriously though, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Just had a long weekend is all. Guess it knocked more out of me than I thought.” I heard him hum. Jeff laughed jovially as he sat down. How can one man be so damn happy all the time?

“You missed quite the dance on Saturday, Addison.”

“It seems that way. Though, anything would be better than what I spent the weekend doing.”

“Fair. You’re feeling better?”

“Yeah. Just tired now.”

“I bet. Now. About the dance. More specifically, Clay and Hannah at the dance.”

“Yes. And then no more dance talk please.”

“Okay. So, Clay was being a wallflower.”

“As usual.”

“Yes. But he was sitting on the bleachers across the gym from Hannah. And he waved and nodded at her. When I told him to go, he was all ‘I can’t dance’ and so I was like ‘no one can dance. It’s a dance.’”

“Of course. No one likes the ones who can dance.”

“That’s what I said! He was awkward as hell and then they were cute. Danced around like idiots. Had the best time. Leah thought it was fantastic. I was waiting for the slow song that was coming. Or I hoped it was. And then it did. They were awkward again.”

“Right.” I adjusted my position and leaned in to listen to him better.

“Hey gu-.” Justin said, sitting down.

“Shh.” Charlie cut him off. “Jeff is telling a story.”

“They almost kissed.”

“Almost?”

“But then Jess….”

“Ah, this part of the story I know. She was messy. And Hannah cleaned it up.”

“Yes. But that was the dance. Good time.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.” The boys around me spent the rest of lunch having their own conversations. Or giving me their own rundown of the dance. I tuned most of that out. It was hard to pretend not to notice the small glances Monty was sending my way. I sent a few his way too.

Christmas break, finals, and January flew by. Before any of us knew it, it was February. Valentine’s Day was fast approaching. Which, if you didn’t know from looking at the calendar, you certainly knew by the annual Oh My Dollar Valentines posters. There were little heart shaped boxes of chocolate at all the stores in town. The price of roses soared exponentially. I rolled my eyes as I passed one the first day of February. Justin tried to get me to buy one that day.

“No. I’m not interested in paying for cheer camp.”

“You’re always on my ass about school spirit.”

“Yeah. Because like it or not, you and your friends run this school. School spirit is not paying for the wonderful cause of sending the squad to cheer camp.”

“Fine.” He grinned mischievously at me. I watched him reach into his pocket as we passed one of the many tables lining the halls. “Two Dollar Valentines please.” My eyes widened.

“Justin. No.”

“Oh but it’ll be fun.” He laughed.

“I don’t care.” I couldn’t help but smile. He held it out to me, but I shook my head. “No way.”

“Suit yourself. I know you well enough to fill it out for you anyways.” Justin grinned and stuck his tongue out at me. You little shit. I reached out to grab the paper from him. I was going to return it. He held it above his head. I tried to grab it again and he waved his arm around.

“Give it to me.” I laughed.

“Nope. Get taller and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Well then I guess you won’t be getting the survey.” I huffed at him. He lowered his arms and I tried to take it again. He pushed my hand away and took off running. “It’ll be an exciting surprise.” Justin yelled as he ran.

“Justin Foley!” I yelled back. I love that boy. But sometimes I just want to…. Oh. What am I going to tell Monty?I sighed and turned around, intending to cut Justin off at his first class and steal the stupid survey from him. When I turned however, I collided with someone.

“We should really stop running into each other like this. People might think we are together or something.” Monty said.

“Or they’ll think you have a thing for me. Since you seem to be the one who always approaches me.”

“That is definitely a possibility.” He handed me my keys. “Might need these later. Wouldn’t want someone finding them and trying to use them.” He started to walk away backwards. I followed after him.

“I highly doubt someone would try to steal an ’09 Camry.”

“Never know.”

“Besides. It’s Evergreen County. Nothing ever happens here.”

“True. I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Yeah. I need to have some words with Justin Foley.”

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“Maybe.” I rose a brow. Monty gave me a funny look. “I’ll explain later.”

At lunch I stopped Justin in the hall on the way to the cafeteria. Pulling him into an empty classroom, I locked the door. “I need that survey back Justin.”

“Why?”

“Because I have no interest in going on a valentines date with someone. You know I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“It could be fun.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Well, you have thirteen days to change your mind.”

“What do you mean?”

“I submitted it on the way to second period.” I blinked at him. Did he just say…?

“You what?”

“I submitted it already. You’ll be receiving a list of ‘promising matches’ on Valentine’s Day.” Oh no. Throwing my head back, I sighed very heavily.

“I hate you.” I groaned.

“I love you too Addy.” Justin brushed past me to leave. “I’ll save you a seat?”

“Nope. That’s okay. I need a break from the testosterone today.”

“Okay.” As soon as he was gone, I texted Monty.

Hey. I need to talk to you. Can you meet me in the library?

Yeah. Bring a book?

Please. My locker was on the way, so I grabbed my books for the rest of the day.

There was a table free in the back of the room. I snagged it so Montgomery and I could have some privacy. He found me a little while later. I was pretending to be taking notes. In actuality, I was doodling and trying not to think about his reaction to Justin’s little stunt. Or reactions. “What’s going on?” He asked as he sat down.

“Hi to you too.”

“Sorry. Hi. What’s going on?”

“So don’t freak out.”

“Don’t start with don’t freak out and I won’t freak out.”

“Justin uh,” I paused.

“Justin? What?”

“Justin filled out and submitted a Dollar Valentine for me.” I quickly added, “I didn’t ask him to. He just bought it and did it. I was going to get it back from him at lunch, but he submitted it on his way to second.” I looked up. Monty was staring at me. And he was… what is he doing? And then his lip twitched. He was trying not to laugh. “What?”

“That’s what this is about? That is what was so urgent?”

“Yes?”

“The fact that Justin Foley filled out a Dollar Valentine for you?”

“Yes?” I was extremely confused.

“Addison. I really don’t care if he filled out a stupid survey for you. Are you going to go on the date?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.” I was still a little hesitant to say anything. “Oh. I should probably mention. I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Really?” He frowned in confusion.

“Yes. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re a romantic.”

“I know. Which is why I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s the least romantic holiday. If you want to do something nice for me, or get me flowers, show me that you like me, do it on a random day. Not when you have to because it’s a Hallmark holiday.” I was careful not to say the word love. It may have been five months, which is a long time in high school, but we weren’t there yet.

“So, you’re a romantic who hates Valentine’s Day. Okay. Coffee date though?”

“Sure. But not because of what day it is.”

“No. Of course not.” Monty winked at me and then got up to leave. “Come find me after school.” I nodded.

“I’m going to stay here and make Justin sweat a little.”

The next couple of weeks passed slowly. I had forgiven Justin for filling out a Valentine for me a couple of days after he submitted it. After school on the thirteenth, I ran to Walplex to get ingredients for macarons. I browsed the aisles in search of almond flour and raspberry flavouring. Before I left the lot, I texted Monty. Turns out you’re worth it after all. He was busy with practice. I didn’t expect an answer any time soon.

At home, I unloaded my ingredients and put the carton of egg whites in a bowl of lukewarm water to come to room temperature without overheating them. “Hey Siri. Play State Champs on Spotify.”

“Playing State Champs.” I sang along quietly while I went about making my macarons. I said very kind and loving things to the batter aloud. In my head, I was swearing at them with words that would make a sailor blush. He really is worth it.

Dad came home while I was piping the batter onto the Silpat.

“Hi.”

“Hi. What are you doing?”

“Making macarons for my friends.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow.” I shrugged. Dad scoffed and shook his head. “What?”

“Nothing.” He snapped. My face didn’t react. Inside, I felt the familiar sensation of becoming smaller and my insides closing in on themselves. Just ignore him. It’s okay. You’re okay.

“Okay.” I replied meekly. Instead of responding, he went and shut himself in the office. I sighed softly to myself and started on my macaron filling while the cookie batter sat on the tray.

Once my cookies were baked and cooled after dinner, I began to fill them. I picked a Wilton number 18 tip, a small star, and piped chocolate ganache around a raspberry on half of the cookies. When they were all filled, I topped each one. Then I carefully placed them in a container and grabbed several napkins. I also put five each in two disposable aluminum containers. One for Justin. And one for Montgomery. “They won’t notice if one is missing.” I muttered to myself. I took a bite, and it was perfect. Not hollow. Still had a chew to it. The outside was crisp. The slightly bittersweet filling complemented the sweetness of the cookie Perfect. I moaned softly. Setting the containers in the fridge so they didn’t melt overnight, I went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed.

The next morning it was Valentine’s Day. As much as I hated the holiday, I wasn’t opposed to dressing up. I dug around my closet for something to wear. I had a red circle skirt in mind. I just needed to find something to wear with it. “Hey Siri, what’s the weather today?”

“It’s currently cloudy and forty-five degrees. The high is expected to be fifty-two degrees and the low will be forty-five degrees.”

“Thank you.” Only fifty-two. I can wear a sweater. I pulled out a couple. The red cable knit was too match-y. The plain black was too plain. My last option was a black sweater with white hearts. This is nice. Shrugging it on, I pulled on a pair of black tights to cover my legs. Topping off the look with my favourite diamond studs and a simple charm bracelet, I checked the clock. I had time to paint my nails.

Soon, I was ready for school. I redid my nails in a nice nude shade. Knowing I was going on a date today, I went quite neutral on the makeup. I wanted my skirt and top to be the focus of my look. My parents were putting their breakfast away when I went downstairs. “Morning guys.”

“Morning sweetie.” We exchanged pleasantries with each other. “You look lovely Addison.”

“Thanks Mum. May not like today, but it’s an excuse to wear this sweater.”

“Very true.” She kissed my cheek gently, so her lipstick didn’t transfer.

“Why are there three containers in the fridge Addison?” Oh crap. Uh….

“Because one is for Justin, one is for my friends to share, and the other one is for me when my friends inevitably leave me with none.”

“I see.” He didn’t sound convinced. Or interested for that matter. When does he ever sound interested? He called after me as I was leaving. “Remember your mother and I are going out tonight for dinner and date night.”

“I know.” I smiled at him. “You kids have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.” I smiled brighter when he dipped my mom and kissed her. Gross but so cute.

“I love you, Margot.”

“I love you too, Brooks.” My mom replied.

My friends were waiting at my locker when I got there. “Hey guys. What’s going on?”

“Justin said you were bringing macarons to school.” Charlie grinned.

“Ah yes. You’re here for snacks. Of course. Hey Clay.”

“Hey Addy.” I shooed the boys away from my locker so I could put my bag in and take out the large container.

“These are for sharing.”

“We know. We can share.” Bryce nodded. Sure, you can. I rolled my eyes playfully. Then I set about passing each of the plethora of boys gathered around my locker a napkin. And then I gave them one macaron each. Jeff got two so he had one to give to Leah.

“Why does he get two?” Luke complained.

“Because he has a girlfriend. And I like her. Do any of you have girlfriends I like?” My eyes shifted to Monty minutely. He smirked softly and quirked a brow quickly. No one seemed to notice. “No? Then you get one for now. You can have more at lunch.” The bell rang. The boys began to disperse to their respective classes. I grabbed Justin and gave him his container.

“You’re the best.” He grinned and kissed my temple when he pulled me in for a hug.

“So are you. Now go get educated.” I texted Monty as I walked to class. I’ll give you yours after school.

I think I like being worth it. This is delicious. Why don’t you make these all the time?

Make them with me sometime. You’ll see.

On my way to lunch, I stopped to pick up my Dollar Valentine. “Hey Sheri.”

“Addison! Oh my gosh. When I heard you filled out a survey, I almost didn’t believe it.”

“Justin did it.”

“Oh. At least he knows you. I hope you get better matches than I did.”

“We’ll see.” I waited while she printed out my list. I glanced at it when she handed it to me.

Andrew B.

Cody K.

Daniel R.

Justin F.

Bryce W.

“Oh. My. God.” I laughed.

“What?”

“I matched with Justin. And Bryce Walker. How the hell?”

“Well, Justin knows you best. And he did the survey for you.” Sheri shrugged.

“Okay fair. But Bryce?”

“I don’t have an answer there.” We both laughed and I left to go to the cafeteria to join my friends. While I walked, I called Justin.

“Hey Addy, what’s up?”

“Hey Valentine. Have you picked up your matches yet?”

“I’m just looking at them now. I was just about to call you to see who you matched with.”

“Well, I think you’re my best match.”

“No one else up to your standards?” I was behind him now.

“Nope.” He turned and hung up. “But I have very important plans tonight, so I’ll need a rain check.”

“No problem. Your annual Bones marathon?” Sure.

“You know it. Next season is the last one.”

“Since I can’t take you out tonight, at least let me escort you to lunch.” He held his arm out to me. I grasped it dramatically.

“Such a gentleman.” We laughed hysterically.

Montgomery loved the macarons. We met at Monet’s after school to get coffee to go because it was crowded. Thankfully no one questioned us if they saw us. They were too wrapped up in their own dates to be concerned about us. Our date was wonderful. There was no chocolate in heart shaped boxes. There weren’t any overpriced roses. Just the two of us spending time together privately. Since my parents were out for the foreseeable future, he came back to my place. We hung out for a bit until he had to leave to avoid my parents. All in all, it was a pretty good Valentine’s Day. He found it hysterical that Justin and I were matched for Dollar Valentines.

Spring had sprung in Evergreen in mid-March. By the time April rolled around, flowers were in full bloom again and it was getting warmer and warmer. On a particularly nice Saturday, I woke up in an unusually good mood. I looked out the window and it was sunny, not a cloud in the sky. As I was sitting in bed, I looked around my room. My camera caught my eye on my bookshelf. Maybe today is the day I introduce Monty to my camera. I got ready but didn’t get dressed. It was still early for a Saturday. And I knew Monty was a big fan of sleep.

After an hour or so of putzing around in my room, I decided to call him. “Morning Addy.” He answered. His voice was still thick with sleep. I smiled.

“Good morning sunshine.” I heard him shifting in bed.

“You’re chipper this morning.”

“It’s nice out. It’s finally spring.”

“It is.” He smiled.

“I was wondering if you had plans today?” I eyed my camera.

“No, I don’t think so. What did you have in mind Bookworm?”

“I thought I could introduce you to my other hobby Casanova.”

He gasped dramatically. “You mean to tell me you like things other than books?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “What do you say?”

“I’m in. When and where?”

“The park by the docks? Say, one o’clock?”

“Sure thing.”

“Wear something comfortable.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye baby.”

My parents were in the office working. It was ten am on a Saturday. But it was getting close to exam time for my mom, so she was busy. Tax season was ending, so dad was busy. I opened my bedroom door and called into the house. “I’m going out later. I don’t know how long I’ll be out.”

“Okay honey. Have fun.”

“That’s nice.” I sighed and closed my door. After a quick shower I got dressed. I knew I would probably be moving around a lot today, so I picked a pair of leggings and a loose black t-shirt from American Eagle. I really should go get one of these in every colour. They’re the best shirts. I threw a random cardigan on my bed. It was later joined by my wallet and camera.

Sitting down to do my hair and makeup, I decided to just do a quick French braid. It kept the hair out of my face. I contemplated my makeup for a while. I still had plenty of time to spare. Pressing play on my Spotify and it picked up on a random Beartooth song. Artist Radios are always interesting. I hummed and tapped along with the music while I dug through my vanity. I didn’t have an excessive amount of makeup. Maybe I had a little too much lipstick, but it’s my favourite type of makeup. I kept everything but my lipstick fairly light and neutral. My skin was actually nice today so I could just use concealer and set it. With the rest of my makeup done, I dug through my slightly embarrassing amount of lipstick. “I’m feeling bold today. Red?” I asked myself in the mirror. “Red.” I nodded. I was ready to go now. I chucked the tube of lipstick in my wallet.

It was close to lunch so I texted Monty. Did you want me to make a couple of sandwiches or something?

Sure. I went downstairs and dug through the cheese drawer.

I have turkey, ham, and some other white meat. Possibly chicken?

Ham is okay.

Cheddar okay?

Yup. I made our sandwiches. I knew how he liked his sandwiches now. Placing them in the fridge, I ran upstairs for my camera, camera bag, and now my purse. Our lunch was set on top of my wallet. I threw an ice pack in to keep everything cold and food safe. A couple of snacks joined in before I grabbed my keys.

“I’m leaving now. I’ll see you later.” I called.

“Okay.” My parents called together.

At the park, I met Monty over by a tree. He was wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt. No flannel. That took me by surprise. He looked damn good though. I stopped on the way over for a couple of coffees from Starbucks. “Hey Casanova.”

“Hey Bookworm.”

“Lunch now or later?”

“Now is good. I could eat.” I rolled my eyes. “What?”

“You’re always hungry.”

“I’m a growing boy.” He defended.

“If you grow anymore, you’ll give Dempsey a run for his money.”

“Never know. They say boys grow again around nineteen.”

“Oh god. I don’t know if I could handle you getting taller.” He laughed.

“Might have to. Never know.” I looked down to hide my blush. I didn’t read into what he said. He was right. You never knew where you could end up. We talked quietly while we ate. Monty regaled me with stories of the baseball game I “missed” yesterday.

“Sounds like a nail biter.” I smiled.

“You don’t like baseball, do you?”

“No.” I replied quickly.

“That mean you’ll never come to a game?”

“Quite possibly. I will go to as many football games as I can though.”

“Deal. Now. What did you want to show me?”

“This.” I said as a pulled my camera out of the bag.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I told you I like photography.”

“I remember. I’m just surprised it took you this long to show it to me.”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“Okay. I won’t question you.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not Tyler. I keep my photography to when people know about it and can see it.”

“I kind of figured.” I spent some time showing him my camera. It was the first thing I had spent any big amount of money on. I got it a few years ago. I saved up birthday and Christmas money. I never really got an allowance so that’s what I had to work with. I looked out at the water and stood up. Holding my hand out to my boyfriend, I nodded in the direction of the dock.

“Come on.” Montgomery took my hand and we walked to the railing. I examined the water for a few moments quietly. Then I lifted my camera and started shooting. It was beautiful. “It’s nicer at sunset. But daytime shoots are so fun.” I could feel him watching me. A bird was flying close by, so I snapped a picture. “It’s beautiful.” I said softly.

“Very beautiful.”

We wandered around the park together for a few hours. Occasionally we would stop to sit and just people watch. During one of these stops I noticed Monty had turned to look out over the water. The way the light was hitting his face was perfect. I quickly snapped a photo. I wanted to preserve the peaceful look on his face forever. Lord knows the boy could use some peace. He turned to me when he heard the click of the camera. Luckily it didn’t ruin the shot. He was smiling. I couldn’t help myself. I took a quick scan of the area and kissed him. When we pulled away, he quickly wiped the lipstick off. I laughed and dug around in my purse for a makeup wipe. “Here. Use this.”

“Thanks.” I touched up my lipstick. While I was doing that, he took my camera from my lap and snapped a photo of his own. “I’m not very good at this, so don’t be shocked if it comes out crappy.”

“I’m sure it’s great. Here, let me see.” He handed it back. I scrolled to the photo. It was really nice. “This is great Monty.” He nodded but didn’t say anything. Instead, he threw his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in close to him. I rested my head on his shoulder. Turning the camera around, I snapped a picture of the two of us. It wasn’t exactly a candid, but it was as close as you could get with a selfie. We called it a night around six o’clock. He had to get home for dinner. I had some homework to do. I also wanted to get our photos transferred as soon as possible.

I walked into the house smiling to myself. Today had been a really great day. I felt good. “What the hell is all over your face?” My dad asked. Not a hello. No other acknowledgement.

“What do you mean?” I reached up to touch my face. Is there something on my face?

“You really caked it on today, didn’t you?” Oh. My makeup. I’d forgotten that he didn’t see me before I left.

“I put on a little makeup. I’m trying to use up a red lipstick.” I shrugged. The small feeling had begun to grow again.

“It makes you look like a prostitute.” Wow. That escalated quickly. My good mood vanished. I set my face. I wouldn’t let him see that he had hurt me.

“Thanks Dad. That was my goal today actually.”

“Don’t take that kind of tone with me, young lady.”

“Okay, whatever. Where’s Mum?”

“At the grocery store.”

“Okay. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Take off the paint while you’re up there.” He called after me.

When I reached my room, I closed the door and slid down it. Not wanting him to know I was crying I went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. I curled up on my bed and sobbed into the towel. I didn’t care that there would be makeup stains on it. My phone buzzed on the floor. Sitting up, I stood to grab it. It was Monty. I want to see those photos baby.

Okay. I’ll send them over when I’m done.

Looking forward to it.

Yeah.

If I forgot to say, you looked pretty today.

Thanks. I wasn’t sure I believed him after what my dad said.

Any other mystery hobbies you want to show me?

Don’t think so.

Not even the art of knitting?

Maybe.

You okay Addy?

Yeah. Just tired.

Okay. I’ll talk to you later then.

Sure. I didn’t answer his next text. It was too much effort to do it now. I just wanted to lay in bed and be sad.

[dinandgone]

The Hideaway.

Part Three of the ‘Blood and Beskar’ Series.

The Mandalorian x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k 

Warnings: Series 1 Spoilers, Swearing. Tiny bit of unspoken mutual pining, cara dune (idk if she should be a warning but I think of her more as an oc in this fic)

A/n~ This chapter corresponds with what happens in the Sanctuary episode ( S1 Ep4) but has a bit extra sprinkled in. I’ve been really enjoying writing this so far and I hope you like it as much as I do. Enjoy xx Feedback is always welcome :)

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The Crest had landed in a scenic clearing in the middle of a forest. You moved from the cockpit down into the hull, the conversation wasn’t exactly buzzing between you and Mando after you had made the deal. You’d been the kid’s glorified babysitter for a grand total of five minutes, and were already contemplating taking back the deal you’d made with Mando and turning yourself in. Death seemed easier than caring for the little green monster that ate anything and everything. You’d placed him in his cot whilst you used the refresher, only to come back to an empty cot and the kid giggling from the compartment where ration packs had been stored. You sighed picking up the green terror and placing him back into the floating container. 

“Now you stay here, you little womp rat, I don’t want to get in trouble from the old tin can upstairs, okay,” You demand, tucking him into the blankets of the storage container. 

You hear the familiar sound of heavy footsteps moving down the ladder into the hull. You pick up the child and walk towards where Mando has stopped outside the weapons case, grabbing his rifle and slinging it over his back, and moving towards the hatch. 

“If you want, I can stay here and look after the kid, whilst you go-” you start. 

“No.” Mando interrupts bluntly “I’m not leaving you both here.”

You shift on your feet placing your hands on your hips “Stars. Mando isn’t that what the deal was? I look after the kid whilst you go out. I am perfectly capable of babysitting a child” you huff. 

He turns his helmet in your direction, “I’m not leaving you unsupervised with the kid...not yet”

Oh. He didn’t trust you. He wanted you to stay close because he didn’t trust you. Yes, you were technically a criminal. But did he doubt your moral compass that much? Did he think that low of you? No, don’t be ridiculous. You had given him no reason to trust you, the fact that you had a bounty on your head probably didn’t help matters. He was clearly looking out for the kid. 

You’re abruptly pulled from your thoughts by the sound of the ramp lowering, allowing the soft glow of the sun to pour in. You’re hit with the refreshing breeze that sweeps golden leaves along the forest floor, you stand and appreciate your surroundings, it was beautiful. The way the trees basked in the light, you tilted your head to look at the sky, loving the warmth of the sun on your face. You closed your eyes and imagined, trying to grasp the wisps of memories from your childhood on your home planet, the vast expanse of green trees and peaceful calm. Sighing and walking forward, you talk to the child commenting on how beautiful everything was. You didn’t notice Mando tilting his head watching you as you walked down the ramp. 

You stood at the edge of the clearing, with the child babbling in your arms as Mando closed the ramp. He walks towards you reaching behind his cape. 

“Here, you might need these,” he states holding out your blaster and knife. 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “I thought you said nobody would find us here.”

“Good to be prepared.” he nods bluntly, gesturing the weapons forward. 

Placing the child on the floor you warily take your blaster, sliding it into its holder and sheath your knife back into its rightful place on your thigh. You felt complete again, safer now you had more means of protection. Yet you couldn't help but feel confused again, he didn’t trust you to stay with the kid, but he trusted you with a blaster?  

“Let’s go,” He commands, walking off into the forest, kid in tow. You follow closely keeping an eye on the child who was happily babbling and waddling trying to keep up with Mando's strides. 

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

The walk to the nearest village was short and pleasant, the sound of the surrounding wildlife filling the silence, providing no need for conversation. About halfway into the trek, the child had grown tired, so you picked him up and held him in your arms gently rocking him to sleep. Soon after the peaks of village huts come into view, you cautiously follow Mando as he walks into the largest one. 

The hut was much like the cantina on Felucia, the aroma of broth and freshly baked goods hits you as soon as you enter through the door, the atmosphere loud and hearty with patrons both at the bar and at tables. Your bounty hunter instincts kick in as you assess the crowd, picking out any who could be a potential threat. Your attention is drawn to a woman sat on the opposite side of the restaurant briefly glancing at you and Mando, your suspicion is piqued but your attention is drawn away by Mando moving away from you towards a table on the other side of the cantina and taking a seat, you follow, placing the child on a barrel at the side of the table you take the seat facing the suspicious character.

“You noticed her too,” you mumble in his direction, trying not to draw attention to yourselves. “You think she’s trouble?” 

Before he can reply he’s cut off by a waitress walking towards your table. Mando orders some broth for both you and the child. Your line of sight on the stranger is blocked and you’re forced to acknowledge the waitress in front of you just as she smiles and walks away. 

“Shit.” Mando curses “She’s gone.” 

You looked towards the table where the stranger had been sat, now empty. You turn back to the Mandalorian who’s already standing and leaving the table. 

“Mando!” you shout in a hushed tone “Where are you going?” 

“Stay here and look after the kid,” he answers dully. 

You do as you’re told and sit back down, just in time for the waitress to come back placing the two bowls of broth on the table, you offer her a mock smile in thanks as she walks away. You try not to worry about the situation. No, you are not worried about the Mandalorian you tell yourself as you sip on the soup.

Focussing on the task in hand you glance back to the child, but you’re met with the sight of an empty barrel. 

Shit.

The one job you’d been tasked with, and you’d fucked up already. You quickly get up from your seat looking under and around the table for the little green terror. Your frantic searching had no success, both the child and its bowl of broth had disappeared. Fantastic. You quickly pace to the door of the restaurant making an effort to look under tables and behind barrels in the process. Stepping outside of the hut you look to the floor for small footprints. 

Your search is disrupted by the sounds of a nearby brawl. You turn following the sounds in search of the source. You follow the sounds down the alleyway stopping at the junction behind two huts and step out to the left. You’re met with the sight of the Mandalorian and the stranger lying on the floor blasters raised. They turn to look in your direction. You look down to see the child, bowl of soup in hand, sipping it gently clearly enjoying the entertainment that had happened just moments before. Mando’s helmet tilts to you. 

“I thought I told you to look after the kid.” he sighs bringing the strangers attention to you. 

“I took one sip of my soup and then he was gone, I didn’t take my eyes off him for less than a minute.” You argue, walking to the child and picking him up. 

Mando still lying on the floor turns his helmet to the stranger “You want some soup?” 

They both stand dusting themselves off and begin walking back to the restaurant as if nothing had happened. You followed them, sitting back at the table from before. You huffed in disappointment at the space where your bowl of broth had been, now empty. Your stomach grumbled. Luckily, like she had read your mind the stranger ordered some broth for the three of you that could enjoy a meal in public. You felt a pang of guilt for sitting and enjoying the food whilst Mando had to just sit and observe, then again he was probably used to this, you focused your attention back to your soup, making sure to check the child was still at the table this time. 

“Sorry I came at you so hard,” the stranger eventually speaks turning towards Mando “Figured you had a fob on me.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” He responds “ I thought you were here for us too.” He tilts his helmet towards you and the child, who was now sat on your knee giggling at your comments as you tickled his ears. You raise your eyes listening to the conversation once more and he realises he’d been looking at you for too long, thankfully you hadn’t realised. Too busy keeping the child entertained. 

The woman who had introduced herself as Cara Dune continues the conversation with Mando but then turns to glance at you. 

“So, how’d you end up with a pretty girl like that?” turning back to Mando smirking. “And that,” pointing to the child on your lap. 

You feel a blush rise to your face from Cara’s comment. You glance back to the child trying to occupy your thought with entertaining him. You could feel the Mandalorian’s gaze on you, only making the blush deepen and causing the butterfly feeling to shoot straight to your stomach. Mando explains what happened with the kid and how you were a bounty, the kid’s story new to your ears. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt deep down that he’d tell someone else what happened with the kid so readily, even when you’d had the opportunity to kill him several times, and agreed to look after the kid. But then again you didn’t ask and conversation with the Mandalorian was few and far between. The conversation continued with Cara explaining why she was here describing it as early retirement, she then takes the last sip of her broth.

“Well this has been a real treat,” she stands “But unless you wanna go another round- one of us is gonna have to move on, and I was here first,” 

She walks out of the restaurant leaving you and Mando at the table. You take a deep sigh cradling the child, you turn to look at the Mandalorian. 

“So what are we gonna do?” you ask, eyes searching the side of the beskar helmet. 

“Guess we have to continue our search,” He sighs, standing away from the table, turning to check you and the child were behind him. You followed him out of the hut back to the Razor crest. You gaze around at the surroundings pointing and describing things to the child. The sun was setting below the trees painting the sky with ambers and yellows giving the surroundings a golden hue. 

“It’s a shame we can’t stay here, it’s beautiful.” you muse breaking the silence comfortably. You didn’t really expect an answer, it was more of a statement anyway

“It is, It’s difficult to find beauty in this line of work,” he murmurs glancing over at you, admiring how the sun falls on your face as you appreciate your surroundings. As you turn to face forward again, he looks away like he’d be caught doing something he shouldn’t have clearing his throat, continuing the walk back to the Crest in silence. You don’t think much into what Mando had said just humming in agreement, but you could feel the blush in your cheeks again, maker, why did he make you feel like this? You were stuck with him out of coincidence, not requirement, it was merely a business agreement he made that much clear. But every time he spoke to you, even if it was a simple answer or command, you felt a familiar tug in your chest. No, stop it. You dragged your thoughts back to the present, looking down and cooing at the child. 

Arriving at the Razor crest Mando mentions something about checking for repairs, walking around the crest’s exterior. You shrugged and ascended the ramp, bypassing the ladders walking to the child’s cot. You gently wrapped him in a spare blanket and placing him in the container. He softly murmurs meaningless babbles, closing his eyes and slowly drifting off to sleep. You gently stroke the top of his head and ears as his breathing evens. Warmth filled your heart and a smile graced your face, at that moment you understood why the Mandalorian was so protective and you silently vowed to yourself that as long as you could you would protect the kid with your life. You sat on the floor next to the child’s container, continuing to gently rock the cot until your eyes began to droop and your own exhaustion pulled you into sleep. 

You awoke to the pitch-black hull, you must have been asleep for a couple of hours. Your hand was still in the child’s cot, his small hands resting on top of yours, you gently removed your hand and press the button on the container closing the shield. The sound of a conversation outside draws you to walk to the ramp, at first you figured Mando was talking to himself, but there was a distinct difference in the tone of voices, they were unmodulated. Your hand hovers over your blaster in its holster.

“Come on, let’s head back,” sighs the known voice, accompanied with sounds of shuffling feet in the dirt. 

“It took us a whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection, to the middle of nowhere,” another voice complains

You walk to the top of the ramp only to be met with Mando walking the other way, you looked at him confusion written across your face. 

”What’s going on?” you ask, looking out to see two men walking away from the ship. 

The Mandalorian ignores your question and turns on his heel. “Where do you live?” He questions taking a step forward.

The men stop and turn. ”On a farm, weren’t you listening?” One of them responds curtly. 

You raise your eyebrows, eyes meeting his gaze, hand still hovered over your blaster. You looked at him, eyes narrowed as to provide a warning for sassing the Mandalorian. He seemed to understand as his eyes quickly moved back to Mando. 

“In the middle of nowhere?” Mando asks, stilling leaving you confused beside him. 

“Yes.” The rude one answers quickly. Looking at you then averting his gaze once more to the Mandalorian. You smirked at your accomplishment, he was intimidated by you. Good.

“You have lodging?” Mando asks again

“Um yes. Absolutely!” The other man answers, a hopeful look on his face.

“Good, come up and help,” Mando responds turning and stepping past you. You watch him arrange some crates, gesturing for you to pick them up, the farmers following in suit, picking up the crates and taking them to the cart not far from the ship. 

Whilst exchanging pleasantries you’d learnt that the farmers names where Stoke and Caben, You place the last of the crates from the ship onto the cart and turn back to the Razor Crest. Walking up the ramp you notice the child, still in his container but the Mandalorian is nowhere to be found. Typical. You still had no idea what in makers name was going on, and now he’d left you with the child and two complete strangers.

”Where’d he go?” You ask hands on your hips. 

”He said he had to get one more thing.” Stoke replies climbing onto the cart. 

You nod at his reply. What could he need that wasn’t on the ship? Then again why would he tell you if he hadn’t even bothered to tell you what was happening? You pulled your face, talking to yourself and mimicking the Mandalorian in the process. You heard the baby cry from his container, walking over and opening the shields you pick him up and bounce him on your hip in hope of settling him down. After a while, he coos and continues his usual incoherent babbling. 

You decide to sit outside and wait for the Mandalorian’s return. Not that you cared or anything, he’d just left without saying a word and it irked you. There had been a small conversation held between you and the two men, nothing interesting just something to pass the time. Both of them failing to divulge what was going on. 

Your ears prick at the sound of rustling in the forest to the side of the cart, and you pull out your blaster. The Mandalorian emerges from the treeline with Cara Dune both walking towards the cart, you sigh and holster your blaster. You stand, hopping off the cart and stretching your legs. You walking back to the ship. 

”Where are you going?” Caben shouts from the cart. 

You turn and see Mando and Cara also sat on the cart. You look at Mando, then move your eyes to Caben. Before you can form an excuse Mando speaks. 

“Get in,” He commands

You huff and move to climb onto the cart. “ I thought you wouldn’t want me to come with you,” you mumble, sitting in between Mando and Cara, the child crawling onto your lap. 

“What, and leave you alone on my ship, I’d like to be able to come back to it after this job.” He answers, with a slight twinge of humour. 

“Well, how was I supposed to know what you wanted me to do Mando! You haven’t even explained to me what the kriff is going on!” you hissed, crossing your arms 

“Calm down.” Mando sighed 

“You calm down, fucking buckethead,” you mumbled under your breath, earning a short laugh from Cara, and an unamused glare from the dark visor.

“I like her she’s got fire.” she chuckled, winking at you. 

You shoot her a shy smile and prop yourself against the pile of crates behind you. Why he has or needs this much stuff is beyond you, you had little to no possessions, and you lived out of the clothes you were wearing, the shirt not even your own. You close your eyes feigning sleep, listening to the Mandalorian’s and the ex-shock trooper’s conversation. 

“So we’re basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?” She asks, glancing back to your sleeping figure, then back to Mando. You crack open your eyes, so you can just barely see the Mandalorian.

“Last I checked it’s a pretty square deal for someone in your position.” Mando responds “Worst case scenario, you tune up your blaster. Best case we’re a deterrent. I can’t imagine there’s anything living in these woods that an ex-shock trooper couldn’t handle,” he says, leaning back and stretching out on the crates behind him. 

You feel the familiar heat rise in your stomach and your breath hitches. He looks good, why does he always look so annoyingly good? You curse yourself, at those thoughts crossing your mind. As soon as he can he was going to get rid of you, even with the deal you’d agreed upon he could easily just leave you somewhere for other bounty hunters to find. You were replaceable, as usual just a means to an end. 

Giving up on trying pretending to be asleep, you stretch out yawning in the process to make it more believable that you’d just woken up. You lay back and stare at the passing stars. 

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

You bolt awake from the sound of laughing children surrounding the cart. Turning to look behind you you’re greeted by several children running to greet Stoke and Caben on their return home.

“Well, it looks like they’re happy to see us,” Mando almost chuckles as the group of children begin to crowd around the child.

The Child babbles happily, arms outstretched, reaching out to the children in front of him. You climb off the cart and begin unloading the crates, a few villagers helping you place them on the ground. Picking up one of the crates Mando walks forward being greeted by one of the villagers, you supposed they were talking about where you’d be placing the supplies, and where he’d be staying. You follow the rest of the villagers with crates into the village. 

After placing the crates in the village, you pick up the child and regroup with Mando and Cara. The villagers were sure to make you feel welcome, greeting you warmly and expressing their gratitude. Though what for you still didn’t know the Mandalorian still had yet to divulge that to you. 

A woman steps out from the crowd, long brown hair and striking features. She introduces herself as Omera indicating that she’d show you to where you’d be staying for the night. She walked forwards to a single hut and gestured inside.

“This is where you’ll be staying, let me know if you need anything at all,” She smiled, but somehow you felt it was more directed to the Mandalorian rather than yourself.

Mando thanks Omera as you step into the hut, it had two cots and a crib for the baby. You feel guilty that it provided very little privacy for Mando. On the crest, he could lock himself in the cockpit or his cot so he could enjoy some time without the helmet but here, there was little to no privacy. 

“I can stay with Cara, if it’s easier, that way you can have a little more privacy.” You suggest moving to the door. 

“It’s fine,” Mando assures you in a gruff tone 

“But what about your helmet, and your armour, surely you can’t sleep in it, it’s got to be really-,” 

“Y/N, I said it’s fine.” Mando quips visor staring at you. Your eyes widen, his response startled you. He never calls you by your name, usually just pointing conversation towards you. But the way he says your name almost makes you shiver. Low and baritone, you wished he said it more often, it made things feel less impersonal. You realise you’d been stood in the doorway for too long, your eyes still wide at his tone.

“Fine,” You huff moving towards the cot opposite the Mandalorian’s.

Mando was surprised by your concern, as much as you liked to portray yourself as a rugged bounty hunter you had a thoughtful side. He’d seen that much when he’d seen you slumped against the wall of the crest, hand in the baby’s cot soothing him whilst he slept. And now you were thinking about his comfort, he didn’t know what he was feeling, a warmth in his chest, as he reflects how you’d fallen asleep with the child on your lap in the back of the cart, your face so peaceful, outlined by the soft glow of the stars above. For someone like him with such a violent life, you seemed so soft. He’s shaken from his thoughts by the sound of your voice. 

“So are you going to tell me what we’re doing here, or?” you question, looking up at the dark visor of his helmet. You always managed without fail to find his eyes behind the visor, in certain moments he wondered if you could actually see him. He explains why you’re here, the problems the village had been facing with raiders and how if we helped them the village could be a good place to stay and hide for a while. You nod listening intently.

“So that’s why you brought your entire arsenal then,” you chuckle turning to him, looking straight into his visor again

“Whatever help you need, just ask,” you say sincerely, turning to look at the child in the crib. 

After a few moments of silence, you turn to Mando again. “ I’m going out there to see if they need my help with anything, do you want the child here with you, or shall I take it with me?” You ask, brushing your fingers over the child’s ears as it coos. 

“You can take him with you if you want,” he hesitates, then adds “I trust you,”

Those three words knock the breath out of your lungs, erasing all your thoughts you’d dwelled on the day before. The Mandalorian trusted you. You tried to contain the smile that was creeping up onto your face, in an attempt to conceal it you turn to the child, picking it up from its crib and placing it on your hip. 

“What do you say we go on a little adventure, little womp rat,” you smiled, your statement earning the incoherent babbles and coos you loved so much. 

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

You left Mando alone with his thoughts, how you found yourself to be wanted criminal he didn’t know. Was he surprised? No, not really. From the brief encounters you had on Nevarro, and the little competition you’d shared Mando knew you spoke your mind, and it was often your mouth got you into trouble. And having received a couple of remarks from you, he knew not to get on your bad side. But he quickly realised he knew next to nothing about you, your family, where you came from. And it puzzled him how he wanted to know more about you, how he found himself wondering what you were thinking and how you saw the world. Two knocks on the huts doorframe bring him from his mind’s rambling. 

“Can I come in?” Cara asks 

Mando nods and gestures her to sit on the cot opposite his own. 

“Bounty hunter, so I’m guessing she fights then,” Cara states pointing outside the hut to where you were playing with the child and some of the village children. 

“Yes,” Mando replies looking up to you, with the child in your arms.

“She any good?” Cara questions 

“ From what I’ve seen when she’s on the job, and the way she almost got the jump on me back on Felucia, I’d say so yes.” 

“Good, so she can help,” Cara continues.

Mando nods in response.

“We need to scout the area so we can form a plan.” She stands leaving the hut “I’ll meet you at the edge of the woods.”

Mando nods grabbing his rifle and placing it on his back. Mando didn’t like the uneasiness that crept up on him at the thought of putting you in danger. Though he wanted to assess what you were really capable of he didn’t want you to get hurt or worse. He rises from the cot and makes his way to the treeline finding you and Cara. He turns his visor to look at you.

You shoot him a challenging glare “Look I want to help, I’m more than capable to defend myself, and you can’t tell me otherwise.” You state, pointing a finger at the Mandalorian.

You heard Mando’s sigh of defeat through the helmet, and you smirked at your victory. The three of you move through the forest in the direction Caben had directed you. As the three of you walk through the foliage there doesn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary. 

“Are you sure they gave us the right direction?” Cara huffs 

“Yes,” you say, perking Mando’s and Cara’s attention, you point the series of burnt and snapped branches higher up in the trees. The three of you continue to follow the trail searching for anything else out of the ordinary. Until the Mandalorian stops in his tracks, you almost walk into his back at his sudden halt. Confused you follow his visor’s line of sight.

“Fuck, that’s not possible ” you let out an exasperated sigh 

“An AT-ST?” Cara questions.

Mando crouches examining the large print left in the mud of the forest floor.

“They didn’t mention a fucking AT-ST!” You exclaim “ We can’t fight an AT-ST.”

Mando stands silently and turns making his way back to the village without saying a word.

This was more than you’d signed up for.

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[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Can you do the umbrella academy Klaus x fem reader one shot? Where reader had a bad day, and Klaus is being the good, kind boyfriend he is.

Rough Winters

A/N: This is a request based prompt, a Klaus x reader. I don’t write a lot for Klaus which is odd, since I love him a lot, but I have been focusing on Luba and Leon a fuck ton. I hope you enjoy this one nonny!!

Warnings: sadness, crying knowing me, panic attack, small cut

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  If someone would’ve said that you’d had a bad day, they’d be correct, but once more, with severe SADNESS. You woke up just fine, right next to Klaus, so that was fine. He was of course, wrapped around you, so you were happy, but going to be late. As one who works in this capitalist economy, you had to make a sacrifice, and Klaus’ long arms would have to be the ones. You stripped yourself from him, and  got out of bed, the sun beating on your skin. You even made a proper nutritional breakfast, opposed to Eggos and Sunny D orange juice (which is sweet as shit, kids, don’t do it). At that moment, just when you started digging in, you glanced at the clock, and you were 5 minutes late, ALREADY. No biggie, you’d just run, oop- the sun decided to dip and the rain came out to play. You packed the rest of your breakfast, then angrily snatched the umbrella from its stand, running out of the door. 

“Honey, HONEY, YOUR PHO- too late.” Klaus yelled through the door, but you’d already taken off, quick, fast, and in a hurry.

Upon arrival at your workplace, i realized that your phone was gone, but no worries, you’d use the work pho-. Oh, the lines are down, and have been down for a couple weeks now. You sighed, but sat down in your chair anyway, and waited for customers to float in. It was a particularly busy day, and you had to make arrangement after arrangement, daisies and roses, baby breaths mixed with lilacs. Your workshifts were a blur of colors and scents, and you were exhausted, breathing a sigh of relief when the last customer received their bouquet, and when you could wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead. Your breakfast from earlier was left open, sadly, and the flys got to it.

“Oh no, come on, SHIT.” you said, throwing the entire container in the garbage, deciding that you were going to drop by a random Mcdonalds for dinner. Upon looking in your bag for your wallet in the car, you realized you had also left that home, and you swore once more under your breath, cancelling your order, and pulling out of the drive-thru.

  In the time span of about 4 minutes, the dreary drizzle that was that day turned into a flurry of snow, and your eyes opened in wonder, before realizing that the snow was in fact coming down very fast, and was bound to get you stuck. You seemed to catch almost every red light the route home gave you, and your eyes began to droop even more as you pulled into your driveway, head on the steering wheel. You felt tears coming on, but they stayed at bay, and you slowly walked out of the car, locked the door, and headed inside, throwing your keys in the bowl. A loud sigh, on the edge of a voice break, came from your chest, as you took your shoes off, and shed your purse.

“Hi baby, how was your….day?” Klaus asked, his gaze saddening upon looking at your appearance. When you saw his hands reaching for yours, it was like something broke, and you began sobbing, tumbling to the floor. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, and like every breath was simply for naught. Everything seemed to float away from you, except for the large dark cloud over your head, and you felt your heartbeat way too fast than it should.

  He rushed over to you, and caught you before your head hit the floor. Your fists curled into the fabric of his shirt, he held you as you broke in front of him. You cried for the snow, for your customers, your phone, and it all seemed like too much. You wanted to scream, but nothing but sobs came out, and you shook in Klaus’ arms, and he held you. His arms stayed wrapped right around you, and his legs stretched to accommodate your form, keeping you close. Small words of kindness went into your ears, but you couldn’t register them. You couldn’t register anything. The lights in the house got too bright, and the snow pelting the windows was bashing into your head. You rocked back and forth in place, and he still held you through it. His lips pressed against your cheek, and that contact kept you grounded to what was reality. The more you felt, the more you were. He continued to breathe against you, and it coaxed your lungs to follow his lead.

“That’s it honey. Slow breaths. Take it slow. I’m here for you.” he whispered, hands slowly rubbing down your arms. That also helped, and he reached down to stroke your knuckles, tenderly rubbing against them. You eventually calmed down, and the sobs turned into sniffles.

  Klaus slowly sat you up, and brought you a glass of water, which you took with a nod of appreciation. You slowly sipped it, and Klaus clattered around the house, and at some point you heard the tap turn on. The glass almost dropped to the floor, but you caught yourself, and began to nod off, exhausted from the day. You didn’t know how long you were sleeping, but Klaus was gently waking you up, his eyes full of tenderness.

“Come on honey. We got to get you cleaned up and warm. Then I’ll fix you something. Maybe we could watch a movie. Cuddle.” he said, stroking our cheek. You smiled, and he kissed your cheek once more, helping you up from your spot of despair on the floor. When you got to the bathroom, a gentle scent of vanilla and lavender hit your nose, calming you. Klaus gently stripped you, and guided you to the bath.

  You sank into the water, and soaked for several minutes, letting it relax your muscles. You began washing the day’s stress off of you, and Klaus turned to face you, taking in your appearance. You gave him another gentle smile, and continued getting yourself clean, stretching up to reach certain places.

“Need any other help?” he asked, reaching up to stroke your shoulder. You shook your head, mumbling a “no thank you”, and he slipped from the bathroom, and you heard pots clattering around. You dried off, and let the water out, grabbing the shirt and undies Klaus left for you on the bathroom counter.

  Once he heard your steps, Klaus took you in, and hugged you, and you glanced over at what he was cooking up. Apparently, it was gourmet tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. You snuggled into his back as he cooked, and when he was done, you detached, curling into the couch. The two of you ate in almost quiet silence, gentle music playing from the record machine. He was getting better at cooking, and you smiled at the heat produced from the food items. When you finished, Klaus got your plate and bowl, and set them in the sink, as they could be washed later. He led you back upstairs to bed, and he cuddled you, stroking your back.

“If you don’t want to talk about today, that’s completely fine. However, I want you to know that I’m here to listen.” he replied, letting his words sink in. You did explain what happened, and almost teared up again, but Klaus tucked you into his chest, and let you cry. You eventually fell asleep, at peace from what he decided to do. You felt truly loved.

Masterlist

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Part of your world - Part 21 - Valentines Day

*posted two hours after the day ended but i count it!!!!*

=

Harry slowly slipped out of your shared bed at 4:30 am, carefully pulling the black and red duvet back over your shoulders. He pressed a soft kiss to your exposed cheek and snuck over to his dresser, taking out his clothes and changing in the bathroom.

20 minutes later he was finally ready and left a small note on your side of the bed, giving you one last kiss before sneaking out of your room through the portal.

Hours later, you finally woke up, your jaw clicking as you let out a deep yawn and sat up, groaning a bit as you stretched and your back popped comfortably “mmm” you turned to look at Harry's side of the bed, raising your brow to see that he was gone. “Harry?” you called out, slipping out of the bed and walking to the bathroom, checking inside for your handsome pirate fiancé “you here?”

When no response came you sighed, turning back to the bed to go back to sleep for a bit when you noticed a note on the nightstand next to your side of the bed, Harry's handwriting just barely visible.

You walked back to the bed and picked up the note, letting gout a small coo as you read the note.

-good morning my love, happy Valentine's day! I got some plans for us today so just get dressed in something comfortable (bring a jacket) and I’ll come back to pick you up at 2! - your pirate

You glanced at the digital clock on Harry's side and nodded, it was only 9 am so you had 5 hours to kill.

Time to take a bath with your new bath bombs~

-

And with the last touches on your (light/heavy) makeup, you were ready for whatever Harry was planning.

You had decided to wear a combo of comfortable formal yet action ready clothes.

A loose red and black patterned shirt, your favorite pants, your comfortable worn-in ankle boots, and one of your red jackets Evie had made for you that complimented Harry's iconic one.

You glanced at the clock, the red letters reading 1:58 pm, nodding you grabbed your keys and attached them to your hip. As you grabbed your bag which held Harry’s gift, the door to your room glowed and opened, Harry stepping through a moment later.

“yer prince is here…ta…wow” you snorted, shaking your head a bit as you turned to look at Harry, leaning against your dresser and crossing your arms. You smirked as his eyes drifted up and down your body “uh….wow” you giggled to yourself and pushed yourself off the dresser, walking over to Harry and wrapping your arms around his waist, admiring the full black suit he was wearing, thin lighter black stripes on his jacket.

“not so bad yourself babe~” you giggled as his ears turned red at the pet name, you sometimes cringed when you heard yourself say it but watching his ears and face turn red was too cute not to do it.

“Thank yeh” he said quietly, eyes locking with yours for a moment before he quickly pecked your nose and tugged at your hands. “come on, I gotta whole thing planned” you laughed as he tugged you through the still-open portal and into Auradon.

You stepped out onto the deck of the docked lost revenge 2.0 and Harry led you off the ship and down to the docks, nodding towards the forest trails nearby “it’s a bit of a walk, is tha’ okay?”

“Good thing I wore my comfortable boots” you joked, squeezing Harry's hand and swinging them between your bodies as you walked towards Harry's plan.

-

15 minutes of walking and talking, Harry covered your eyes, gently pushing you towards the spot “it's just right ‘ere, don’ worry yeh won’ trip” he whispered in your ear, smiling as you grabbed his biceps and whispered right back.

“I trust you mo leannan*” Harry bit his lip as Scottish Gaelic easily rolled off your tongue and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your neck in thanks.

“Thank yeh bonny, now jus’ a couple more steps” he helped you down a couple more steps and pulled his hands from your eyes, setting them on your shoulder and setting his chin there as well “open”

As you opened your eyes you let out a small gasp.

Harry had taken you to one of the clearings in the enchanted forest near the docks, a midsized wooden table sitting in the middle, a pinkish-red table cloth resting over it with white plates and silverware, two thin candles ready to be lit. your eyes drifted to the two large ice boxes next to the table, one you guessed was filled with the drinks the other food.

“Harry this is amazing~” you squealed, spinning around and pulling him into a gentle kiss, smiling as he quickly wrapped his arms around you and hummed into it. You pulled away, smiling at the pout that quickly appeared on his lips “thank you so much”

“yer welcome my love” he muttered with a dreamy smile on his lips, his eyes drifting back to your lips. You took a step back with a teasing smile and turned, walking over to the ice chests and flipping the right one open, humming happily as you took in the multiple types of soda, juice, and other drinks. You picked your (fav drink) and skipped over to the table, setting it next to one of the plates and turning back to Harry, who was digging through the other ice chest and pulling out the food. “oooh what’ja bring?”

“(fav food)” Harry beamed, bringing over the black food boxes and setting them on the table “serve yerself, imma get the sides n shit”

You happily did so, having not eaten since your small snack in the morning to prepare for the possible large meal Harry was going to give you. Harry was back moments later, setting down a box of mashed potatoes, seasoned rice, shrimp stir fry, baked mac, and cheese, corn, and oven-baked Brussel sprouts “but you don’t like Brussel sprouts?” you laughed, picking up the box and shaking it in Harry's face. He leaned back and pushed it back towards you.

“aye but yeh like em” you let out a small coo and set the box back down, watching Harry go back to the food box and pull out a tall container filled with gravy “’ere we go, a meal fit fer a goddess~”

You looked around, pursing your lips “so then where Uma?” Harry let out a small snort, shaking his head “sorry but you gotta admit Uma is fucking beautiful” Harry laughed again, grabbing a root beer and sitting down, looking up at you with a fond smile.

“aye, she is, but righ’ now I’m takin’ bout yeh my love” you smiled back and sat down across from him, popping open the mac and cheese and scooping some onto your plate. Harry served himself some (fav food) and mashed potatoes, scooping some shrimp stir-fry and rice as well.

You took some of the stir fry, Brussel sprouts, and mashed potatoes. Sticking your tongue out slightly as you poured the gravy on top. You and Harry glanced at each other for a moment before you dug in.

You danced in your seat as the delicious taste of the (fav food) hit your tongue. Harry smiled as you danced, licking his lips clean as he watched you continue to eat and dance “do yer little dancy dance” Harry sang, yelp-laughing as you kicked his ankle gently.

“shush~” you stabbed a shrimp and popped it in your mouth “I’m enjoying myself”

“as yeh should”

-

An hour later and you had finally finished your late lunch/early dinner, Harry doing a quick clean up and packing the food away to retrieve later. He held out his hand for you, and once you took it he lead you to back up the trail that guided you to the clearing.

You stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his arm and laying your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and trusting him not to let you trip or bump into anything.

Harry hummed a tune in his throat, filling the comfortable silence as you walked. Soon you were back at the ship and harry told you to go to his room while he got the last couple of things he needed, as you walked to the set of cabins near the back you turned to see Harry going down into the kitchen.

You opened the door of Harrys room and gasped, Harry and decked out his room to be the ultimate comfort zone, he had several fluffy blankets piled on his bed, multiple pillows, hanging sheer blankets that blocked out the remaining sunlight of the day, and soft led-fairy lights strewn across the walls.

You kicked off your boots and jacket and flung yourself onto his bed, giggling as some of the blankets folded onto you. You burritoed yourself and waited for Harry.

A couple of minutes later the aforementioned pirate stepped through his door, kicking it closed with his foot. “well don’t yeh look all comfy~” he purred, setting down the large bowl and bag on his desk and leaned over you, his arms caging your head.

“I am~” you laughed, reaching from your burrito blanket and pulling Harry on top of you “and you will join me!”

He smiled, pulling your hands off his jacket and pulling out a crystal rose from his inner pocket. You gasped and took it, twirling the fake rose in your fingers “I will, jus’ need ta set up our first movie”

“otay” you chirped back, setting the rose on the nightstand next to Harry's bed and pulling your hand back into the blanket, and watching harry take off his suit jacket, shoes, and grabbing a remote.

He grabbed one of the blankets you hadn’t commandeered and settled onto the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you snuggled into his side.

“sooo” he licked his lips, going through Netflix to find a movie the two of you would enjoy “what are we watchin’?”

You were silent for a few moments as harry scrolled through his suggested movies before a grin spread on your face “Shrek the musical” Harry paused, looking down at you as you just giggled to yourself.

“is it good?” he wondered aloud, going to the search bar and typing in your request.

“it's so fucking good, absolutely amazing” Harry snorted, clicking onto the movie and letting it play.

He grabbed the popcorn and bag of snacks and set them to your left, leaving you to grab what you wanted. “alright, let's watch.

-end of part 21-

* mo leannan = my sweetheart

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