#all before noon tomorrow while staying up overnight

[idkhowtopickausername]

I really am going to fail my classes it looks like 😔

[usagiarchive]

angel of the codeine scene — [01] the war

masterlist / next

"I feel sick, and I know that I'll lose, but it's not living, if it's not with you,"

sypnosis. [ xiao x adeptus!reader. 1.3k words. angst. ] — As unbelievable as it was, Adeptus Xiao had caught feelings for the mortal healer he accompanied.

He met you in the Archon War.

Rex Lapis had already given him a new name. A new life. A new purpose.

You were one of the healers in the Dihua Marsh encampment, one of the few who survived the first few waves and got to safety.

Healers were seldom at the time, being the first ones to be killed off.

Your first conversation was when he brought you an elderly woman's frail body. Alive, but injured.

“She requires immediate assistance,” he remembers telling you.

You nodded and were quick on your feet as you laid out a cot for the woman to lay on. You tended to her wounds skillfully.

He noticed you worked faster and noticeably better than the other healers.

You were an asset, he decides.

“Who was your mentor?” he asks as you tend to a different patient.

“My father,” you tie up the bandage, not even flinching when you hear an explosion from afar, “He was an apothecary, a good one,”

The solemn look on your face said it all and he couldn't say a word.

“Excuse me,” you left without another word.

It is not long when the adeptus speaks to you once more. This time it is under a calmer situation when he does.

“I never knew Adepti were perverts,” you say and sink the lower half of your face under the water.

The man in question flushed a green color, “Forgive me- I did not mean to, I swear on Rex Lapis,” he says as he turns around and covers his eyes.

You roll your eyes and emerge from the water, to him, he only hears the sloshes of the water as you move.

You put on clothes over your body, one you were supposed to hang up to dry better after your bath in the river.

“Care to tell me what you were doing here, Adeptus?” you ask, arms crossed as you wring out the water from your hair.

“I came to deliver a message, the children of the camp told me you would be out on the river,” he explains, still not turning around to face you.

He probably still thinks I'm naked, you thought but don't make him turn around.

“I did not… expect… to see you…” he clears his throat, “bathing.

You sigh, an honest mistake is an honest mistake.

“You can turn around, Adeptus, what message are you here to deliver?”

“Rex Lapis requires you for the next encampment.”

The two of you worked in close proximity after that. Wherever you were, the adeptus followed, Rex Lapis had assigned him to be your protector, after all.

The god who saved you had recognized your expertise, your skill, and you were more than happy to serve, if only to honor and remember your father.

It was there where you started to get to know him better, in the months you had been with him, you learned he flushed green because that's what color his insides were, the Adepti didn't have the same blood as humans.

You learned that he liked silky-feeling food, he did not tell you his reason why. He liked to feel the air in his face. He liked watching from high places. He liked to dance.

He liked you.

As unbelievable as it was, Adeptus Xiao had caught feelings for the mortal healer he accompanied.

Most of all, it was incredibly unbelievable to you.

So much so that you disappeared back to Dihua Marsh encampment overnight without his knowledge, leaving him at the Guili Plains encampment with Guizhong.

He returns to your side before noon strikes.

It had taken you a while to process the entire situation, you didn't exactly have time for… romance.

War was raging on the skyline. Tomorrow was not promised to either of you.

And yet you found yourself returning his affections.

He had stayed by your side all that time, never pushing his intentions, but just wanting your company.

You fell. Hard.

Xiao was a lover under all that armor. He brought you trinkets he'd find on patrols, herbs you needed for medicine, and would stay with you on the nights you needed to break down.

He understood you.

And you understood him.

Because you were a lover under all your armor, too. You'd offer him a hug or even just your hand when it all got too much and he didn't want to be touched, made him tea or set aside rations for him, figured out how to make a silky food palatable enough for him to enjoy, and you gave him peace.

But still, the war rages on and both your duty calls.

It was morning, the medicine prepared for your patients and the camp was buzzing.

The Yakshas and Rex Lapis were out defending the northern border, where monsters from the Abyss and malicious gods were aiming to invade and kill.

The emergency horn sounded and then everyone was screaming.

Running, screaming, crying.

There were monsters in the camp, destroying the life you've known for almost a year. Killing the people you've treated.

There, you utter the name he told you to say when you were in trouble.

“Xiao!”

The horn rings in all the Yakshas’ ears the moment it is blown. It was a system Bonanus set up. A special call to let them know their base was in trouble.

But the bastardly creatures kept them from immediately going back. There were far too many, far too vicious. To leave this would mean to let them into Liyue territory.

To let them into Liyue territory would mean to throw a wrench in what they've been fighting for the past few months.

Xiao slashes through a hoard of Abyssal monsters, skewering them with his polearm and slicing it free.

That's when he hears you. The wind carried your plea to him.

But he can't, to abandon Rex Lapis and help back at the camp would mean to break his contract and would mean his imminent death.

He prayed to Celestia to keep you safe.

“Hold on, I'll be there,” he mumbles as he releases a deadly wave of miasma, “even if it kills me.”

He lunges for the god controlling the hoard.

He was too late.

The moment the Yakshas came back to camp, everything had been burned into cinders. The stench of iron ran deep into the soil as mutilated bodies laid across what used to be a home.

Xiao panicked and his brothers knew why.

As they stared in defeat, they could only watch as Xiao disappeared and appeared here and there. Looking for you.

“... Xiao..” he hears and he knows he has to find you.

He could barely hear it, your voice was small, he thanks the wind that carried it to him.

He tells your name as he disappeared again.

The adeptus finds you near the river, the overwhelming scent of your blood clouding his sense of smell. Bleeding into the stream of water, carrying it into the sea.

“Hey, hey, you're okay, you're gonna be okay,” he tells you as he carries your body softly.

“... you came…” you whisper.

“You called…”

A small smile paints your pale face.

“We gotta- we have to, I have to get you to-” Xiao chokes through his tears, “Rex Lapis will- You'll be okay, please…”

He sees you shake your head as you raise a bloody palm to cup his face.

“No, don't- don't do that. We have- I- You have to-!” he stutters.

He didn't know what to do.

“Y-you have to- have to tell me how to- how to help, I can help,” he says and you rest your head on his chest.

You always liked to listen to his heart.

“I’m sorry, Xiao,”

“Hey, no, don't say that,”

…

He says your name.

…

“... you can't…” he starts, “you can't leave me, please,”

…

“Not like this,” he whispers, “please don't leave me like this…”

…

“Please.”

The Yakshas would record this in the scrolls of history as what they describe as the most blood-curdling, heartbreaking scream they've ever heard.

After the war, life became still. Rex Lapis is hailed as the Geo Archon, and their mission changes to rebuilding Liyue.

The people regroup, the people celebrate.

And Xiao is left to mourn the memory of you.

usagi's note: guys i love xiao sm Iike i have like two other fics planned out for him istg pray for me i rlly dont wanna be ao3 cursed again.

ALSO TAGLIST IS OPEN FOR THIS SINCE IT'LL HAVE LIKE MULTIPLE PARTS !!!

send an ask or comment below to be added to the taglist ^^

taglist: @irenedoesthings @cherrysnows @makuzume @smoochi-modest @bvtterflyyy

@usagiarchive 2024. do not repost, translate, or use for AI.

[jamies-latex-lust]

Stepping Out With Stepmother

As his bus finally reached its stop, Steve made a mental note to get here early next year. Mother's Day weekend had caused the traffic to be backed up, doubtlessly due to all the people taking their mothers out that year. It would take another hour until he reached his stepmother's house.

Fortunately for him, Steve got there before dark. Unfortunately, he arrived late in the evening. After he knocked several times, his stepmother, Monica, finally answered.

"Steve," Monica said, smiling widely. "Please, come in."

Steve entered the house and the two made their way to the living room.

"This is a surprise," Monica said. "What brings you here?"

"Well, I had been planning to take you out for Mother's Day dinner, but the traffic was terrible," Steve explained.

"Oh, you didn't have to," Monica said. "After all, I'm not your real mother, and your father and I divorced last year."

"All the more reason for me to be here today," Steve said. "You shouldn't be alone the first Mother's Day without Dad."

"You're so sweet," Monica said. "Tell you what. You can stay here overnight and tomorrow we'll have a day out, just the two of us."

"As long as you're okay with that," Steve said.

"More than okay," Monica said. "I'm looking forward to it."

The two talked for awhile after that, before Monica made up the guest room and Steve went to bed.

As he slept, Steve dreamt of when he first met Monica. He had seen her around town before, but he'd been quite shocked when his father brought her home to meet his son. Steve himself had recently turned 18 and was finishing up high school. Monica had actually been closer to his age than his father's.

The two were engaged in no time, and Steve's friends were quick to mock him for it. His father was marrying a smoking hot babe, and Steve wouldn't even be around long enough to take in his stepmother's beauty.

The divorce last year hadn't been that surprising. Again, Monica was closer to Steve's age, so plenty of people knew his father would be tossed to the wayside after a time. Some even guessed that she was a gold digger who'd been out for money. While Steve's father wasn't rich, Monica had gotten a large amount of money from the divorce, which showed in her new life.

Steve woke up later than expected the next day. He had left his house early the previous day, hoping to get to Monica's house by noon, but the world had different plans for him. Thankfully, it was still fairly early when Monica knocked on his door.

"Steve, wake up," she called from the other side of the door. "It's time to get ready. We'll be going to breakfast soon."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said.

Steve quickly washed up in the shower. Monica only had soap and shampoo meant for women, but he could put up with smelling a little feminine. At least for today.

Once he was finished, Steve went to the living room, where Monica was waiting for him.

"Whoa!" Steve said, stunned.

Monica was standing in front of him in a red, double-breasted suit with matching skirt and heels. Her hair had been combed to perfection and swept over her one shoulder. Her red lips, matching her suit, complimented her beauty.

"Why, thank you," Monica said, flashing a smile which sent Steve's heart fluttering.

"Now I feel underdressed," Steve admitted.

"I'm actually glad you bring that up, darling," Monica said. "I was hoping I could ask a little favor."

"Anything," Steve said.

Monica's smile went from somewhat seductive to mischievous at the response.

An hour later and Steve was now staring at himself in the mirror. He had a wig placed on him and was in a fuchsia version of Monica's suit. Monica had done his makeup, which surprisingly worked in making him look like a woman. The open toe shoes helped create the image of a woman.

"I've always wanted my own daughter," Monica confessed. "And now, I get to see what it would be like."

"I know I said I'd do anything, but..." Steve started, only to be silenced by Monica's finger on his lips.

"You sound too much like a man," Monica said. "You said you'd do anything, so please, let me have this Mommy-Daughter Day."

Steve sighed and said, in his best feminine voice, "Yes, Mother."

"Good girl," Monica said, giving Steve a pat on the head. "Now first, we'll go to get your makeup professionally done. After that, we'll have a little breakfast at this cafe I know and then we can head to the spa."

The beauty parlor had been fairly humiliating for Steve. Monica was complimented for how perfect she already looked, but Steve was told "her" makeup needed work. For whatever it was worth, he did think the beautician had done an even better job than Monica had.

The two had arrived at a small, quaint little cafe and sat down for a small meal. The waitress, when bringing their food, noticed the hair on Steve's chest and wrists.

"She's been a touch under the weather recently," Monica said. "The medicine threw her hormones out of order. We're going to the spa after this to get her taken care of."

Steve blushed and looked down. The waitress was cute. If he hadn't been dressed as a woman, he would've asked her out.

"I'm so sorry," the waitress said. "Good luck at the spa. I hope it makes you feel better."

Steve looked down further.

"Say 'thank you', dear," Monica ordered.

"Thank you," Steve said.

The waitress smiled and walked off.

"And thank you, sweetie," Monica said, as she sipped her tea. "I always wondered how it would feel to embarrass my daughter."

"You're... You're welcome," Steve said, blushing deeper.

Once done, the two had arrived at a spa where Monica fed the same lie to the staff about why her "daughter" needed a waxing. Monica sat by as Steve had his legs, arms and chest waxed, almost enjoying the pained expression on his face as the hair was ripped out of him.

"It's okay," Monica said, cradling Steve in her arms. "I've booked us a mud bath. That should help the pain."

"Thank you again, Mother," Steve said, his voice now sounding more feminine.

Monica lifted his face so he could stare into her eyes, awestruck, as she said, "Now you know the pain women go through to look beautiful."

"You're right," Steve said in a stunned monotone. "You are so strong."

"As long as you realize that," Monica said, before smiling. "After our mud bath, I'll order us both massages. And since you're being such an amazing daughter, i might even request a lovely young lady for you."

The mud bath, as it turned out, was exactly what Steve needed. He wasn't sure if it was actually helping his pain or if it was mind over matter, but he would believe anything Monica told him.

As he stared at his stepmother, who was lifting one of her long legs out of the mud to run her hands down it, Steve couldn't lie to himself anymore. He was attracted to her.

When he was younger, he would always steal glimpses of her as she walked past his room, and he'd fantasize about her slipping into his room and seducing him, but he had hid those feelings away once she married his father. But now? He would at least enjoy the sight while he was here.

Monica noticed him staring and asked, "Where's wrong?"

"Oh, uh, I'm just wondering if there's anything I'm supposed to be doing," Steve replies, embarrassed.

"Just let the bath do it's job," Monica said. "When you're done, you'll feel completely transformed. Like a whole new you has taken over."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said.

Steve truly did feel refreshed after the bath, and now was laying across a massage table across from Monica. As a man and woman, the masseurs, walked in, Monica's eyes lit up. She licked her lips hungrily as she eyed the man.

"Mama like," Monica whispered under her breath.

Steve took a look at the man. He was around the same age as Steve himself, but that's where the similarities ended. He was far more masculine than Steve was, even if he wasn't being treated as a woman currently.

His attention them turned to the woman. She was absolutely beautiful. Steve swallowed hard as he tried not to let his body betray his appearance.

Steve couldn't help but feel ashamed as the massage started. As the male masseur worked on Monica, she was moaning in pleasure. He knew that he could never make a woman feel that good. Not only that, but the beautiful masseuse working in his back would laugh if she knew he was a guy asked by his stepmother to pretend to be her daughter for a day.

"This feels so niiiiiice," Monica sighed, looking to Steve with a satisfied smile. "Don't you agree, baby?"

"Yes, Mother," Steve said.

"You feel really tight," the masseuse said. "You must not get to relax much, ma'am."

"Oh, uh, yes," Steve said.

After he two enjoyed their massages, or, rather, Monica enjoyed her massage while Steve tried enjoying it, they were now laying back in chairs.

"What should we do next, Mother?" Steve asked.

"Hmm, give me a couple minutes to scope things out," Monica said. "I very much enjoyed that young man rubbing me across my body. The only thing that would've made it better would be if I got my hands on him. Mmmm."

Steve blushed as Monica bit her finger, until she noticed the look on her "daughter's" face.

"What's the matter, darling?" She asked, before realization struck. "Oh, don't worry. I know you were attracted to that lovely young lady massaging you. I know you think she probably isn't into you either, but don't be so hard on yourself. You're quite the catch yourself."

"You think so?" Steve asked.

"Oh, yes, dear!" Monica said. "The only problem is, she might not be into women."

Steve's face sunk, causing Monica to smile mischievously.

"But if she doesn't, I could introduce her to this handsome young man I know named Steve," Monica said.

Steve's face lit back up.

"Thank you, Mother," Steve said. "I'm so grateful for you."

"Of course you are, sweetheart," Monica said. "Most going ladies wish they could have a mother like me."

The next few hours were spent with Monica and Steve getting pampered however Monica wished. Mani-Pedis, facials, hair care. By the time the two left, Steve saw himself in a body mirror and smiled. He looked like a truly beautiful woman. It was odd, but he was a little attracted to himself.

However, as men and women stared at the beautiful young lady in the purple suit out with her mother in an identical red suit, Steve found himself blush ing in embarrassment.

"Don't be so shy," Monica said. "You're a lovely young woman. You should own it."

"You really think?" Steve asked.

"Of course," Monica said. "I'd never lie to my daughter."

To finish their day, Monica and Steve picked up for, before heading back to Monica's house.

Once the two had finished, they sat on a couch together, staring out at Monica's backyard.

"This day has been absolutely fantastic," Monica said with a sigh of contentment. "You've truly made me feel like a mother being spoiled by her daughter for Mother's Day."

"I actually had a good time myself," Steve admitted. "Even if I was dressed as a girl the entire time."

Monica smirked in an almost perverted way and asked, "How did you enjoy wearing my clothes? Could you feel the heat from my body when you first put my suit on?"

"What?" Steve stammered.

"Oh, don't act all embarrassed," Monica said. "I know you enjoyed it, and enjoyed dressing like a fine young lady for me."

Steve couldn't answer, only gulp as Monica grabbed him and pushed him onto the couch, positioning herself above him.

"I always knew you were attracted to me," Monica confessed. "That's the real reason you stopped by, isn't it? You wanted to come and see your old crush."

"I- I-" Steve lost the feminine voice he'd been using and reverted to his team voice. "But you're my dad's..."

"Ex," Monica said bluntly. "I only married him to be spoiled before I took him for everything he had. There's no reason for you to be against this."

Before Steve could admit she was right, Monica saw it in his eyes, he had agreed with her, and held his head as she began kissing him. Steve laid there, mentally melting for Monica as her lips pressed hard against his and her hands held him in her grasp.

"I was never physically attracted to your father," Monica said after her lips parted from Steve's. "But you? You had this cute look to you. The only problem was you didn't make a handsome guy. But as a young lady? You're beautiful."

"Thank you, I'm honored," Steve said, slipping back into his feminine voice.

"I want you to stay here with me, as my good little girl, doing everything I tell you to," Monica commanded. "I'll teach you to be a fine young lady, maybe introduce you to some of my girl friends, and when I bring a guy home, you can please him too."

"Why that last part?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"You don't think you can satisfy me, do you?" Monica asked, a seductively cruel smile dancing on her lips. "But I do want you as eye candy. After all, isn't that fair, with how many times you and your friends ogled me?"

"Do... Do you want me to give you their numbers?" Steve asked, his tone making it clear he was ready to do so.

"Perhaps one of these days," Monica said. "But I've got my eyes on a couple other guys first. And after I seduce them, I'll bring them back from our date, and you'll give them whatever they want."

As Steve imagined what that would be like, Monica leaned closer to Steve's ear and whispered, "Because of you make me very happy, I might let you help me have a real daughter, and you don't want one of those guys to do it first, do you?"

"No, ma'am," Steve said, shaking his head obediently.

"Good," Monica said, grabbing Steve's head again. "I have so much to teach you. I imagine it'll feel like a real mother, bringing her daughter into the world of womanhood. I can't wait to get to feminizing you."

"I thought I already was," Steve said.

"Oh, sweetie," Monica said in a flirtatious tone. "This is just the start. This is a rough draft. Wait until you see the final version of yourself."

As his body reminded him of his manhood, Steve smiled, eagerly waiting for Monica to feminize him so he could please and satisfy her any way she asked. Steve moved in with Monica the next day.

Weeks passed. Weeks filled with many changes for the sissy who'd once been Monica's stepson. But after all the teaching, training, cosmetic work and shopping, Monica felt she had earned the date she just went on.

As she and her date, the masseur from the spa, entered her house, Monica stared into his eyes.

"I had a wonderful night tonight," Monica said.

"Me too, ma'am," the masseur said. "How about we keep it going in the bedroom?"

Monica smiled a truly lustful smile and said, "You know exactly how to charm a lady. But would you be opposed to someone joining us?"

"A friend of yours?" The masseur asked.

"Someone like that," Monica said. "She's the daughter of a friend of mine, but she's living with me now."

"As long as she's okay with it," the masseur, who'd been completely seduced by Monica, said.

"Stacy, come here, darling!" Monica called.

A young woman walked down the stairs in a stylish blouse and shiny leather pants.

"Yes, Mommy?" Stacy asked.

"My date, this handsome young man here, was hoping for some fun," Monica explained.

The masseur stared in shock at the young woman in front of him.

"A beauty, isn't she?" Monica asked, walking over to Stacy. "I've put a lot of work into her. Finding a top that fit her while still looking refined. Pants that perfectly hug that tight tush of hers."

Monica turned Stacy to get and gave her a kiss, before turning the young woman to the masseur. Monica grabbed Stacy's face and pointed her fingernails at her lips.

"And we can't forget these lovely, plump lips," Monica said. "I can't begin to tell you how good they feel when you kiss them. One of the reasons she calls me Mommy is because of how I basically remade her from the ground up. Of course, that's not the only reason."

Stacy couldn't be bothered to listen as Monica talked about how she dominated the young woman. Instead, she could only stare absently and drool at the thoughts running through her head.

Thanks to Monica's training, Stacy now liked the thought of pleasing the men Monica brought back, and Monica herself, naturally. The kiss Monica had planted on her was enough to make her shudder in lust even after all these weeks. But the thought that most captivated her was the thought of one day having a daughter with Monica.

"Stacy, darling, what do you say you give my date a taste of what he's in for and..." Monica stopped briefly to chuckle. "...get a taste of him too?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Stacy cried happily, getting on her knees.

- SISSIFIED BY SUITS, MAY 2024

[Sorry this is a couple weeks after Mother's Day. I wanted to submit it sooner, but couldn't get it done until now.]

[crazycurly-77]

Healing processes - Ch 9

After describing the situation, Doctor Archer turned around and went to check on his other patients.

Gibbs, on the other hand, went back to you to tell you the result of his conversation with the doc.

“Hello, love,” he greeted you and kissed your temple.

“They're keeping you here overnight for observation. We can go home tomorrow morning.”

You threw your arms up in joy and almost hit him with the cast, but he was just able to dodge.

“Hey! Be careful what you do with that thing!” came his loud protest, pointing to your cast-covered arm. But the situation was so abstract that you both burst into loud laughter.

Unfortunately, your damaged ribs and the surgical scar didn't like that so much, which is why the pain suddenly increased and you curled up.

Jethro was immediately at your side to help you, but you pushed him away with the words: “It’s all good, but laughing is probably not ideal at the moment.”

“No, you should avoid that for the next few days,” he confirmed and pulled the empty bed that was next to yours towards you with a loud squeak.

You watched him in silence. When the other bed was finally next to yours, Gibbs sat down on it, took off his shoes and laid down next to you. Safe, secure and content, pressed against his strong chest, you now laid next to each other and were both lost in your thoughts.

“The doctors and nurses won’t like that you’re just moving the furniture around like that,” you said at some point, half asleep.

“Oh, they’ll have to go through that. They should dare to say something,” he sighed thoughtfully.

It was wonderful to hold you in his arms, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the accident. He almost lost you - and it was his own fault.

This knowledge tormented him extremely. Above all, it opened up the wound of his family's murder as if it had only happened yesterday.

He had the feeling that he was being torn apart inside and couldn't live with himself at the moment.

In your sleep, you felt his tension and slowly began to stroke his stomach and chest soothingly until he finally fell asleep too.

The next morning, you were checked over again. Around noon, you were allowed to go home. However, you were instructed to stay at home and take it easy.

When you arrived at Gibbs' house, you laid down on the couch because the journey had been very tiring. He then went shopping, prepared the guest room for you and cooked dinner.

Since you remembered the case, you looked at the photos of the crime scene in the hope that you would find clues. But the headache was so bad that you couldn't really concentrate and had to give up after a short while.

After a cozy dinner together by candlelight, Jethro cleaned up the kitchen, did the dishes and then you two cuddled up on the couch and watched an old western.

It was so nice that you fell asleep almost immediately. After the film ended, you were still asleep, so he picked you up in his arms and carried you to the guest room.

After that, he went to the other side of the hall into his own bedroom and laid down to rest himself. If you needed his help, he would be close at hand.

What still amazed him as you fell asleep was that you believed him without hesitation that your cast and the fact that you had almost hit him with it the day before was the reason you slept in separate rooms.

You were sleeping quietly and peacefully when suddenly a scream rang out through the night. Someone called your name in horror and panic. The blood froze in your veins, but you got up anyway, determined to find out what was going on.

There. Again, someone called your name loudly. It was Gibbs and you immediately went into his room. But what you saw shocked you deeply. He, the normally self-confident man, was rolling around in bed, thrashing around and calling your name over and over as loudly as he could. He was obviously caught in a nightmare.

You went to him and woke him up carefully. He looked around in shock. Everything was fine, he was home and you were obviously alive and fortunately by his side.

“I'm alive, everything is fine,” you tried to calm him down in a gentle voice.

He held you tightly. Still half caught up in his dream, he whispered full of fear and regret: “I almost killed you and I couldn't help you. Just like Shannon and Kelly.”

Who is that? You had never heard those names before. But that didn't matter. Now you had to somehow calm him down and so you held him tightly in your arms.

After he had regained control of his senses, he stood up and got dressed. He had to do something with his hands to suppress the nightmare and the memories. That has always helped so far - at least for a short time.

Sitting on the bed, you watched him and asked worriedly: “Where are you going?”

He ignored you, put on his shoes and replied:

“To the basement. Working on the boat.”

“Fine, I'll come with you,” you decided and tried to get up.

Jethro turned around: “No, you won't do that. I want to be alone and think,” he replied firmly.

Oops, what was that? He tried to push you away...you couldn't let that happen. That wasn't good for him, because otherwise he would bury it deep inside himself never to talk about it. 

You made up your mind: “My darling, you're not the only one of us who is stubborn. If you don't want to talk about it...fine. But I won't let you hide away."

You stared at each other in silence and waited for the other's next move. The air was thick and very tense, but you didn't let up.

"I'll take a book and sit quietly next to you."

He took a breath to contradict, but you were quicker: "Don't you dare contradict me. The doctor says I can't get upset, so come."

He looked at you in silence, then sighed and helped you get up and dressed.

Then he took you in his arms and kissed you briefly. He wasn't used to someone insisting so vehemently on helping him that he even fought against him, and he was very grateful to you for that, because that showed your affection for him. But the fact that he even allowed that to happen also showed his affection for you.

So you both went down to the kitchen, made coffee and finally went to the basement.

There you sat down on a chair and read your book while he worked on his boat.

You were both lost in thought and he noticed that as much as he resisted...it was good for him that you insisted on staying with him and were now with him as a kind of silent support - always ready to talk to him about anything if he wanted to.

Who knows, maybe he will do that at some point and his soul will finally find peace. Maybe he was finally no longer alone and would manage to open up to someone else and be happy again.

(To be continued in Chapter 10.)

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Here you will find the other chapters of this story.

Masterlist stories - Part 1 (finished ones)

Masterlist stories - Part 2 (finished/ongoing)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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[mackjlee9]

Leon Kennedy x Afab!Reader

Author note; this is just something I wrote in ten minutes to maybe change the same thing that happens in fanfiction. You'll probably understand what I mean when you read. Oh! Reader has no pronouns bcz I was writing this with me in mind, but they're still referred to as "woman" by others. Probably won't finish this, just got to write a bit and I got bored lol.

I'll probably delete this later idk

Resident Evil

When one of your family members invited you to their wedding at the beach, your first thought was just... Make up an excuse so you didn't have to go. But then you thought...

Hey, free food!

However, this family member of yours expected you to bring a partner with you, and you only had one option. Your best friend, Leon.

You just texted him asking if he wanted to go to the wedding with you, and he was like, "Free food? Hell yeah," and laughing about how similar you two were you went to bed, feeling somehow at ease that you were gonna have someone to go to this useless wedding you didn't even wanna go in the first place. At least, you will have a feast.

//////

The car ride wasn't exactly long, you were one of the few that lived somehow close to this relative of yours, so it was only like a five-hour drive to the hotel. Being one of the first people there, you got the key to your room and went upstairs, followed by Leon who was still drowsy and sleepy from his nap in the car. No way in hell you were gonna let that man drive.

Thankfully for both of you, your hotel room actually had two twin-size beds, so no awkward "oh no, there's only one bed" trope that happened... Way too often in the stories you read.

Now, you just had to wait until noon when the wedding would start and then the afterparty in the evening, the overnight stay, and then bye-bye by tomorrow morning. So, while you waited you took a nap while listening to some music, letting Leon roam around the room as much as he liked.

A few hours later, you're woken up by a rather rough shove to your shoulder, and you end up tangling yourself with the cable of your headphones, hearing the distant laugh of Leon's laugh.

"The wedding's gonna start, you have to get ready," you huffed and sat up, rubbing your eyes and yawning as you stood up, stumbling to the bathroom while you're still trying to open your eyes, "Don't fall-" right before Leon could finish his warning, you tripped with the backpack you just tossed without a care, somehow managing to catch yourself before you fell and successfully waking yourself up with that little scare, "I'm not gonna say anything, I'm gonna jinx it- just get ready."

Leon added with a chuckle and you walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

Without much care, you took a shower and wrapped your body in a towel, shaking the excess water from your hair, and you realized you didn't bring clothes with you.

Sighing, you prepared your lungs, "Leon!" The blond man just groaned in response, "Could you hand me my bag?"

You just heard the sound of the bed squeaking under his weight before the quiet sounds of his footsteps got close to the door, a few knocks on the wood letting you know Leon was right there.

"Thank you! What would I do without you?!" You exclaimed dramatically, opening the door enough to fetch your bag.

Leon just sighed, a smirk on his face, and went back to sit on the bed, watching tv while he waited for you.

You looked around your bag, grabbing a black sports bra and a black boxer to put on your body. All the time you avoided looking in the mirror, because otherwise you were gonna worry about your body... And you hated that. You didn't come here to look pretty.

You came here for the free food. And that is it. Well... Maybe the alcohol too. You were probably gonna be the only "female-bodied" person not wearing a stupid sundress. Nothing against them, but there's other clothing in the world to wear to the beach.

Ugh, the beach. The main reason why you didn't wanna come all the way here, if there was something you hated, was the fucking beach. But meh, you were already here so might as well.

You put on a tank top, a zip-up hoodie, and black jeans, deciding if you should wear your Converse or boots... Decisions, decisions~.

You walked out of the bathroom and you heard Leon snort, making you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Something funny, Kennedy?" You definitely sounded like a teacher but you didn't care, you were trying not to smile as you saw him holding his laugh back.

"You're gonna attend a wedding... Dressed like that? Damn, that's why you're my best friend." You looked down at yourself, not really seeing anything wrong with what you were wearing... Maybe a sweater would look better rather than a hoodie... No! It's the beach! And it's warm outside! It'll be fine.

"Well, you don't look too dressed up either, Mr.Scott," and now you were using the middle name. Sometimes Leon wondered how he met someone so funny and kind like you, you were one of a kind, no doubt about that, "Anygay- we should go now."

//////

Walking out to the beach was already exhausting, more so mentally than physically. You could already see your cousins and aunts talking amongst each other, other ladies that you didn't recognize so you guessed they were your relatives' friends. You walked closer enough to get their attention and you instantly heard the teen girls sneaker when they saw you.

Oh~ here we go~ little insecure girls that try and make others feel bad about their appearance just to feel better about themselves...

You were already hating being here and you haven't even talked to anyone yet. You would rather keep it that way but-!

Your annoying aunt was coming your way. That annoying aunt that does not know what personal space means and loves to gossip about everyone's lives.

Thankfully, they hadn't seen Leon yet, he had to go back to the car to get his sunglasses.

You frowned as you watched your aunt approach you, rolling your eyes and keeping your hands in your pockets when she hugged you.

"Oh my~ look at you, you're such a beautiful lady now! You've grown to be a gorgeous woman, sweetie," there comes the expression of disgust, what part if you was a "beautiful lady" and/or "gorgeous woman"? Did she not see how you were dressed?

Your hair was still wet, no makeup on, no painted nails, and dressed as if you were going to the store and just put clothes over your pajamas... You definitely weren't the lady she claimed you were. And you liked that, otherwise she was gonna start with the-

"And~? Did you get a boyfriend yet?" -There it is.

You sighed and walked past her, heading to one of the empty tables at the back, but she held your arm and dragged you to the table she was sitting at. Well, at least you could see the buffet from where you were.

"I don't have a boyfriend, aunt," the giggling on the teenagers came back and you were so pissed. You would actually leave the next time they do that.

"But- you said you had a partner," you looked at her as if it was obvious.

"Yeah, for this," you nodded your head toward the empty altar, "I'm not interested in dating."

With that, your aunt frowned, perplexed at your words.

"You would never have kids with that attitude, miss, you have to settle down someday," oh, well now she was getting on your nerves.

You turned toward her with your jaw clenched and a fake smile on your face. You were about to tell her off when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Sorry I took so long, had to help an old lady cross the street," you looked back and up, Leon making a good job at blocking the sun from your eyes.

"About time," you said with fake sarcasm, making him let out a fake laugh and nudging you a bit, "Well," you stood up from the table and grabbed Leon's wrist, "We're gonna go to our seats now."

You didn't miss the way every woman, young or old, stared at Leon when he made himself known to them, and when you sat down on the table at the back, you could feel glares on the back of your head, making you feel rather uncomfortable.

"Damn, I hate it here," you groaned, feeling the heat of the sun on your skin, making you sweat. At least you had the shadow of a three for now.

[pheita]

Snippet Sunday

I am playing around a little with changing "Blood Night" from single POV into dual POV, even if it will stay close 3rd person.

So this is the first time we will have Lyran's POV now. Tagging @ashen-crest @cometkov @tabswrites @cljordan-imperium @writingamongther0ses

Never in his life had Lyran enjoyed a hot bath as much as he did that evening. Even though he wasn't that old, after more than a day trapped in the cold and this miserable fog, he realized that he was getting older and his bones definitely didn't like it. The liberating feeling of being able to move properly again accompanied him as he sat in the dining room with Elaven beside him and Sojan across from him, watching him more or less amused as he shoveled soup into himself. “Thanks again for the help,” Lyran raised his tankard in a silent toast. “That's our job,” Sojan reminded him with a grin. “Sure, but it's still proper to say thank you,” Lyran raised the tankard to drink.

“You should drink less ale, after your involuntary overnight stay in the forest it will go to your head faster.” Elaven had spoken without looking over, always keeping an eye on the guest room. “Then I'll sleep all the more soundly tonight.” A slight sigh escaped him as Lyran remembered that the nights he couldn't remember his nightmares were good nights and maybe it wasn't wrong to get drunk so far. It certainly wouldn't take much, and it kept him from thinking further about Sojan, who was frowning at him as if trying to analyze him. “That's quite a good reason, but tomorrow will be all the harder.” “Nothing that will kill me, other than the tree spirits.” Again, Lyran took a deep sip. Yes, distracting himself from Sojan was a good idea, lest he do something stupid. “He's right about that,” Elaven turned to Sojan. Grateful for the distraction, Lyran gave Elaven an amused glare. “Elaven understands me!” “So do I, but I'm worried about how strong your hangover will be. You've just had your first real meal in over a day.” Sojan swiped a piece of bread from Lyran's plate, who slapped his hand and protested loudly. “Go get your own.” Grinning, Sojan shoved the bread into his mouth and chewed while he thought. For a moment, Lyran could only stare at him before he turned his attention back to his soup. By the Five, what had he gotten himself into? “I'm thinking of checking out the water terrors tomorrow. With any luck, we won't have any fog.” Elaven narrowed his eyes. After a sip of tea, he hummed in agreement. “Yes, we should get one so we can examine it.” “What do these misshapen tadpoles with arms have to do with anything?” Lyran blinked in confusion. His mind needed some time to come back from his thoughts about Sojan to the topic at the table. “They're three times the size they should be. Even we'd be swept into the water by them without a problem.” “Holy shit, by the Five, what's going on?”

Sojan's relief was evident, and Lyran thought he had sighed, but wasn't sure from the volume in the room.

“That's what we need to know. That reminds me, why hasn't anyone come looking for you? You have a room here, don't you?” “I did…” Lyran began to ponder this. He should have thought that an innkeeper would be worried about paying customers. In the unobtrusive hunter way, Elaven looked around, as Lyran noticed in passing. Sojan's gaze went to the counter, so Lyran's gaze followed as unobtrusively as possible and found a tall, broad-shouldered figure talking to the innkeeper, Easton. The innkeeper seemed to be in a trance. Something was handed over that immediately disappeared under the figure's cloak. The moment the figure was through the door, Easton blinked a few times as if he had been daydreaming and went back to work. Sojan made an astonished noise “Interesting, isn't it?” Elaven leaned forward questioningly. “Indeed,” Sojan straightened up again with a glance at Lyran. “Tell me, how many days did you rent the room for?” “Huh? Wait… Until noon tomorrow.” “Then pack your things later. We have guest rooms at the guild house and you'll need another day or two to recover.” Lyran's eyes grew wide and a broad grin spread. “Oh all the stories of the hunters! I'll have so much material for new songs. I'll be there, of course.” The excitement could hardly be contained. Rarely did bards get the chance to spend more time with hunters and this was turning into a gold mine. It also meant he got to spend more time with Sojan, which was a big bonus. “And the bed is more comfortable than here,” Sojan added with a laugh. “And what does a little bard like me have to do to get into your bed?” Lyran had leaned forward a little over the table. His gaze bored into Sojan's steel-blue eyes, which seemed to have witnessed so much and attracted him like light attracts moths, and smiled at him. So much for not doing anything stupid, but he couldn't help it. “First and foremost, sober up,” Sojan replied seriously to Elaven's laughter. “What?” “I have yet to meet a man who is steadfast under alcohol.” “Oh…yes, that's true.”

The blush clearly rose to Lyran's face. Incredulous that Sojan had even gone into it in part, Lyran buried himself in his tankard. By the Five, he wasn't usually like that “Sojan, my friend!” a deep female voice sounded from the doorway. Sojan leaned to the side and stood up laughing to greet a muscular, tall, bluish woman hunter-style with a grip around the forearm. It was immediately obvious she had to have orc blood by the look of her, even if Lyran didn't see any tusks. “Neeshah, my friend. You come right on cue.” “Mari told me I'd find you here in company. And who are your new friends?” Curious, she stretched towards the table. Sojan turned around and invited her to join him at the table. “These are Elaven, also a hunter, and Lyran, the bard.” “That sounds like fun. Easton, please bring me some tea and whatever is hanging in the fire. I need to get this chill out of my bones.” She called over her shoulder to the innkeeper, who just laughed and gestured that he had heard. Neeshah took the other seat next to Lyran, which Sojan could only note with amusement. “So, friends, what were you talking about?” Her gaze passed briefly over Elaven and Sojan. “We want to get a water terrors tomorrow,” Sojan explained briefly. “Ah, Mari said the creatures are bigger?” “Three times bigger than usual.” “Filthy crap, that's a problem.” She slapped the table with the flat of her hand, making everything shake. Lyran tilted his head and blinked at her. “Those embroideries are exquisite. That was someone with talent.” Neesha immediately grew a foot taller. “Thank you, that was me. My mother didn't raise anyone who despised beautiful things.” “Truly, I have rarely seen embroidery so delicate and intricate. Let me guess, your weapon is the bow?” With a gentle gesture, Lyran stroked from the hem of her shirt to Neeshah's finger.

“That is true. You're a good observer.” He also left it unsaid that he had already noticed of how good friends the two were. “As a bard I have to be, how else can I sing the stories of the heroes if I don't see and hear everything?” “I like him,” Neeshah looked at Sojan, ”And as for the water terrors, you have my bow.” “That's what I was hoping for. If we take one of the recruits with us, we should make it, even if the weather doesn't want to cooperate.” Easton came in with the order for Neeshah. Sojan stopped him short. “Easton, would you send our bard's bill to the guild? After his encounter with tree spirits, I'd rather keep an eye on him for a few days.” Easton made a sign against evil and nodded. “Of course, you never know what it'll do to you. Should I have Frik bring the things over right away?” Sojan looked questioningly at Lyran, who thought for a moment. There was nothing among the things of value and if the few Renval he just had were to be stolen from him by the Five, then the boy should have them.

“Yes, send the boy. I'm afraid Sojan was right about the beer.” He looked at Sojan, who looked worried. It had to look like he was really drunk by now, not that he was at odds with himself over his reaction to Sojan. “Don't worry, dear bard. We'll take care of everything.” “Tree spirits, huh?” Neeshah's eyes went briefly to Lyran and then to Sojan with a question in them. “We'll tell you tomorrow.” “Do you mind if I join you tomorrow?” asked Lyran excitedly and hopefully. “To the water terrors?” Elaven wondered aloud. “Yes, I suspect it's just the start of something bigger and I want to be part of it.” Actually, he first of all wanted to see for himself what was going on here. The three hunters exchanged glances and then nodded. “All right, but I hope you have something other than these clothes,” Sojan pointed to Lyran's fine suit. “Don't worry, when I travel I definitely wear more comfortable and robust clothes. Do you know what an ordeal it is to ride in such tight pants? That's the best way to keep someone chaste.”

Sojan was not the only one to grimace in remembrance of a moment when he was forced to do so. Neeshah choked on her tea when she saw the men's faces. “All right, then, it's settled. Stay behind us and when we say run, you run like there's a horde of monsters after you.” Sojan looked urgently at Lyran, who nodded gravely. Yohrir had to be joking with him that this hunter had such an effect on him that it made him hot and cold. “I'm hanging on for dear life, even if it didn't look like it today at noon.” “That's what I was hoping for,” Elaven teased him, “Then we'll have to see if any of the recruits want to take this chance to gain practical experience.” Lyran could understand the collective grim sigh of the hunters. The stories of overconfident beginners who overestimated their abilities had always served as a deterrent to anyone wanting to join the guild. The worried look on Sojan's face drew him in again without Lyran being able to tell why. He hastily finished the tankard and ordered the next one with a sign, hoping that the beer would really give him a dreamless night in which he would not be confronted with what had befallen him with Sojan.

[travelingtheusa]

ARKANSAS

2024 Nov 1 (Fri) – A cold front has rolled in.  The temperature this morning was 51 degrees.  Brrrrrrrr!  We did laundry this morning.  Sheba has been having a hell of a time with constipation.  We have been giving her the stuff the vet gave us (laxatone).  It doesn’t seem to be working.  She gets in the box or outside and digs and digs and digs then squats but nothing is happening.  Finally, after a week of trying to go to the bathroom, she did it – ON OUR BED!  I get so mad when she does things like that.  She will leave a poop on the rug or one of the chairs around the RV.  We indulge her because she has such a hard time going to the bathroom.  At least the little turds are like rocks and don’t stain anything.  They are small and rock hard.  It must hurt just to pass them.  Until yesterday when she crapped on the bed.  Then it was loose.  Of course.  It was in a most inconvenient place.  Am I ranting?

      I called a couple of campgrounds and made reservations for after the Branson caravan.  I also called one of the campgrounds in Michigan to reserve 20 campsites for next year.  The clerk called and told me how much (it will be $115 a day for 4 days!).  I then called HQ and had Melissa call them with a credit card number.

      At noon, we drove to the town down the road and got fuel for tomorrow’s trip.  We stopped at what would pass for a strip mall where Paul got fuel, we had lunch, and we were able to pick up a few bottles of liquor.

2024 Oct 31 (Thu – Halloween) – A very powerful thunderstorm rolled through overnight.  The first thunder bolt hit like an explosion and woke me from a sound sleep.  It poured heavy for a while but lightened to slower rain by the time we got ready to leave.

      We pulled up stakes and got ready to go.  When I checked the lights, we had no brake lights or blinkers.  We pulled out of our campsite and parked over on the side.  Paul pondered the problem for about an hour.  He checked fuses, connections, and plugs.  Finally, he just cleaned the pins on the plug connecting the truck to the trailer (we had lights on the truck).  That gave us our lights back.  Given the rain, we did not want to get on the road without at least brake lights.

      We were finally on the road at 11 a.m.  It was a 4 hour drive through the Ozark mountains.  We pulled into a WalMart in the town before here to get some groceries.  The campground is not close to any towns.  We arrived at the Ozark View (also spelled Vue) RV Park in Omaha, AR, at 3:30 p.m.  The campground is laid out with 3 or 4 tiers cut into the side of the mountain.  We do have a great view of the valley below.  Unfortunately, there is very little color this year.  We have noticed that all across the country.  The fall colors just haven’t been that bright.  Most of the trees around here haven’t even turned color and those that have are composed mostly of brown leaves.  Very disappointing.

2024 Oct 30 (Wed – Caiden’s birthday) – Our grandson turned 11 today.  We gave him a laptop that can do animations.  He has a youtube channel where he is already creating animations.  I hope this launches him on a lucrative career.

      We drove to town this morning for breakfast at the Blackberry Café.  We saw it on our trolley ride yesterday.  The food was very good.  Then we walked to the trolley stop to see what time the trolley would come by, intending to ride it across the bridge to Little Rock proper.  It wouldn’t come for another 20 minutes.  Instead of waiting, we got in the truck and drove to the Historic Arkansas Museum.  We paid for a tour of historic buildings.  Back in the early 1900s, a woman campaigned to save 3 city blocks of original buildings.  She envisioned them staying as the city grew up around the area.  She was a good visionary!  Then we went into the museum and walked around.  All the displays were about the crafts people made, pictures they painted, and other artifacts they created.  It didn’t hold much interest for us.

      When done at that museum, we walked down the street to the Old State House Museum.  It was the first capitol building in the city.  Although it has 3 floors, we were only allowed to tour the first two.  There were very comprehensive storyboards that wound through various rooms telling the story of how the state of Arkansas got started and all the shenanigans that took place among the politicians.  When the building got too old and small, it was abandoned for a bigger building.  The old state house was used for several purposes, then just closed up.  The city finally did a renovation and opened it as a museum.

      We walked back to the truck and drove around.  For a capitol city, it seems very empty.  There is not a lot of traffic or activity, other than construction.  It looks like they are trying to fix the city up.  There are many old and crumbling buildings and the streets could use some smoothing out.  We never saw one homeless person.  Then we stopped at Wendy’s for lunch and returned home. 

      I-30 runs right through the city and it has been a major construction project for years.  It looks like they have just finished it.  The deck and roadway are brand new.  They are still working on cleaning up the entrance ramps. 

2024 Oct 29 (Tue) – We walked into town for lunch at Skinny J’s (it was about 3/4 of a mile).  It was an interesting place and the food was decent.  During our walk around, we saw a trolley (they call them streetcars).  Walking over to the information board, we saw that it was free and ran through both North Little Rock and Little Rock proper.  So we got on and rode the entire route.  The driver was very informative and told us about a lot of things around both towns.

       One of the interesting things was a large mural on the side of the building.  It was a picture of dogs.  When I asked about it, the driver said that North Little Rock was kind of a seedier side of town and the Little Rock people used to describe the area as Dogtown (meaning to be derogatory).  However, the north guys said, “Yeah, we like dogs.  We can be Dogtown.”  So they happily adopted the moniker.

      Another thing we saw on our ride around was a museum and the Old State House Museum.  We will go back there tomorrow.  Later this evening, we walked across the President Clinton River Bridge to see if we could get a nice picture of the sunset.  Sadly, all the buildings were in the way and there were no clouds to show the color.  Maybe tomorrow.

2024 Oct 28 (Mon) – We packed up and left Yazoo City, MS, at 9:25 a.m.  We had an uneventful 4-hour drive to North Little Rock.  We have stayed here at the Downtown Riverside RV Park.  Our campsite is right on the Arkansas River as a back-in with a full view out our back window.  We have FHU.  There is a laundry here.  We did not have to check in to the office upon arrival – our packet was in a pocket outside the office on the deck.  There are 5 bridges right here on this section of the river.  You can walk across two which used to be railroad bridges but have been converted to pedestrian bridges.  The one closest to us goes over to the William Clinton Presidential Library and Museum.

[upontherisers]

title: overnight over and over

turn on your favorite xmas song and picture john f kennedy international airport covered in several inches of snow, early morning december 24th. three workaholic professionals try to head home for even 36 hours with family before returning to their busy lives in the city. they stand in lines from hell and talk to airline agents from hell while standing in front of fellow travelers who are surely from hell and once they’ve spoken kindly but firmly to enough managers to get them a flight voucher according to such and such subsection and bylaw, they make their way to a restaurant to eat and manage to collide with each other, spilling onto the floor directly in front of an illuminated airport map.

they pick themselves up, apologize, part, and go about the rest of their days — eating, working, calling family to tell them the bad news, and falling asleep cramped in uncomfortable chairs at the gate, alarms set for far too early the next morning so that they can catch their flights.

they wake up in their beds in the city again the next day thinking “wow what a specific dream” and walk through the day again — collision and all — with the weirdest sense of deja vu. the third day is terribly eerie and they spend the day hypervigilant, so much so that they take care to walk around each other once they get to that map again and by the time they all realize that they each avoided the collision, it’s the 4th day and they stand in front of the map staring at each other for about 35 seconds before bursting into their theories about what they think this is and how to fix it.

it’s definitely a loop — they know by day 5 and introduce themselves to each other by name and number in case this thing ends and they remember even parts of it. john is terribly charming and blasé about the whole thing, gale is dry and suspicious, and mahalia is prickly but determined.

they try everything. they try driving home and they try staying home and they try talking. they see every broadway show, they watch the knicks at madison square garden and the giants in the meadowlands and gale grumbles and rolls his eyes the whole time, they kiss every stranger and when that doesn’t work, they kiss each other. and they fight and laugh and get high together on the floor of john’s apartment, heat blasting from the radiator, and realize they’ve never done this before, never stopped on purpose. never chose happiness like this. they haven’t answered work emails in the last 50 loops, they stopped flagellating themselves on the phone to family. they order the good wine at dinner and kiss they moment they see each other and hate watch reality television on mahalia’s couch.

and the morning after their realization, they wake up tangled in each other in bed and it’s still snowy but it’s december 25th according to their phones and it’s been so long since they expected that to happen that there’s several hours of panic when they remember that they’re adults with jobs and lives and that they told their families they had flight vouchers and that their bosses want calls back but they’re still them, in love, in a warm apartment on christmas morning. they can be responsible for everyone else later today, or tonight, or tomorrow, or the weekend. for now, they kiss each other and say merry christmas and snuggle up until noon.

may i offer you a mahaliajohngale time loop hallmark xmas movie au during these writer’s block times

[storiesofsvu]

Nobody's You

Past Heather Dunbar x reader Warnings: language, angst, mentions of physical injury, hospitals and dizzy spells. Set in the universe where Heather is married with kids, yet still having affairs but this time there's actually feelings involved and that throws a wrench in things (ie; this aint classified affairs heather. she not toxic) it took a bit for me to figure this out, so it might have a couple of different like, "moods" to it, and i was originally gonna go with an extended ending but scrapped it so lmk if y'all want to know where i was going to take this originally or not... Covers the "fake blood" square of @adarafaelbarba s bingo! and a request from @alexusonfire happy fall!

Heather was used to late nights.

Late hours at work. Working through dinner. Late nights alone in a big empty house while the kids were off at sleepovers, while Rob himself was working late hours at the hospital.

Some nights she used the bit of extra freedom for playtime. Sometimes she grabbed a bottle of her favourite wine and curled up on the couch to unwind with whatever she could find on the television or lose herself in a good book of complete fiction with absolutely no politics or realism to it whatsoever. There of course were the nights where she brought her own work home, it spreading across one of the many kitchen islands or her home office as the sun sunk in the sky and the chill took over the air.

Tonight it had been a bit of a mixture of all of the above. She’d made it home in time after work to make dinner for the kids, catching up on their weeks together before Jordan asked to be excused, vanishing to the guest house for an endless video game binge. After helping clean up Becca asked if she could go to a Halloween party and spend the night at a friend’s and Heather nodded, sending her away with a smile.

She spent a bit of time tidying around the house, thankful that Jordan was almost exclusively in the guest house nowadays, most of the mess that accumulated was from him. A few dishes left in the sink, a quick pick up of the main living room, and she tossed a few things of Becca’s into a basket to be taken upstairs whenever she came home. Finally she made her way upstairs, showering before she changed into something more comfortable, grabbing a bottle of wine from the rack in the sitting room and settled onto the couch. It wasn’t long after that her phone pinged with a text from Rob saying he’d picked up overtime in the E.R, things getting a little hectic thanks to Halloween weekend and he wasn’t sure when he’d be home so she simply enjoyed her night.

She let out a soft sigh as a commercial break took over the tv for what felt like the millionth time in the past ten minutes, taking a hefty sip of wine. She was bored. And on a kid free, husband free night like tonight, there was no doubt she’d normally be picking up her phone to have a little fun elsewhere, but tonight, that wasn’t possible. Instead she let out a small groan, pushing off the couch and padding through the upper level to put the wine back, pouring out a double scotch before continuing her evening. With the help of something a little stronger she finally felt the relief of the last couple of weeks lifting off her shoulders and by the end of the episode she was relaxed and decided to start getting ready for bed. She sent a text off to Jordan, a reminder to turn the volume down and keep it down til noon tomorrow, one to Becca to call if she needed anything, and one to Rob to remind him she was okay if he decided to not drive sleep deprived and stay overnight in an on call room; she would have breakfast ready whenever he got home. She slowly moved through her skincare routine, taking a little me time as she did so before flicking the bedroom tv on to finish her episode.

About fifteen minutes into it her phone pinged, she barely glanced toward it, thinking it was just a warranted reply from someone in her family. The reminder ping went off when the show was on commercial break so she finally picked it up, surprised to find the message one from you.

‘Hey. So sorry to bother you, I’m just in desperate need of a ride home, do you think there’s any chance you could send a car for me?’

Heather let out a soft breath, swiping open the message to type a reply.

‘I don’t back out on my promises sweetheart. You need to get home safe, what bar are you at?’

She waited, watching the three little bubbles pop up and fade before they disappeared again and again as you tried to figure out where you were and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. You had to be pretty drunk if you couldn’t figure out where you were. Finally you got it, the bubble popping up with your reply.

‘900 23rd Street NW.’

Her brow furrowed as her breath caught in her throat, she knew that area and even if you had been out partying, you certainly weren’t at a bar any longer. Before she could figure out a response another bubble popped up.

‘Entrance 8.’

‘What the fuck are you doing in the emergency room?’

‘Don’t worry about it. They just won’t let me out of here without a ride, all the cab lines are busy and there’s a huge surcharge on Uber.’

‘I’ll be there in twenty.’

‘Thank you.’

She quickly gathered her things, putting in a call to her driver and prayed that they would be able to hurry. At first she’d been hoping you’d been with a friend who was admitted, doing the good deed of making sure they were okay before realizing you were trapped at the hospital with no way home. But your text said otherwise, and now she was worried. Thankfully traffic was light and she was able to get there in no time, pulling up to the entrance, her eyes darting between the people standing out front, trying to find you with no luck. She shot off a text to say the car was there and when her phone buzzed a moment later she glanced at it to not find a response from you, rather a text from Rob.

‘Hey. Just got home, are you hiding somewhere?’

‘No, sorry. A friend needed a ride and it sounded urgent enough I came along. Not sure how late I’ll be, I know you’re tired so don’t worry about waiting up.’

‘Alright. Stay safe.’

Heather felt the tiniest twinge in her stomach at Rob’s words, always making sure she was alright, knowing that if she had asked, he would immediately turn around and come help her. Then again, that’s why she’d made the call she did with you, you’d become more important than just a little plaything, that’s why she’d raced out tonight after all. She let out a huff, dropping back into the seat and looking out the tinted window again, searching for you with no avail once again. After a few more minutes she muttered something to her driver and slipped from the vehicle, making her way through the E.R to the nurses station. One of the ones she recognized glanced up as she approached, a small smile on her cheeks,

“Ms Dunbar, Rob just left.”

“I know.” She returned with a soft smile, “I’m actually here to pick up a friend. I figured she was discharged already but I may have been mistaken?” She gave your name and the nurse typed it into the computer, clicking through a few screens before she let out a little hum.

“She was on her way to be discharged when a dizzy spell hit and she fell. Looks like she should be good to go now though, she’s down in three twelve.” She nodded in the direction and Heather thanked her for the information, heading down the hallway, briefly knocking on the door frame before coming in.

You glanced up from your spot in the bed, pausing in the motion of tugging your sweater back on, your eyes widening when you saw Heather instead of the nurse entering the room. Panic surged through you, your heart beginning to hammer in your chest, you hadn’t seen her in weeks, since the day she’d called things off. The day she hurt you more than you thought she ever would be able to. It was the day you’d spent the last few weeks trying to forget, trying to distract yourself with anything other than the thought of her and the memories of your days and nights spent together.

“What’re you doing here?”

“You’re in the hospital, I wasn’t about to just send you a car.” She nearly laughed in response, crossing to the bed as she took you in. From your make-up-less face, your hair in a messy top knot, to your casual clothes it was clear you had not been out partying, she felt her stomach clench at the sight of your shirt, smeared with crimson, “please tell me that’s fake blood!”

“Uh..” your eyes darted down to your shirt, quickly pulling your sweater on all the way, wrapping it around you to cover the stain, “wish I could.”

“What happened?” She asked, her voice softening as she perched on the edge of the bed and you let out a weary sigh, your hands raising in a wordless gesture before dropping to your lap.

“I… figured I’d try to be festive, carve a pumpkin for the trick or treaters,” you shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of your sweater and gesturing to your left, bandaged arm. “Turns out knives are sharp…. And you… bleed a lot more when you’ve got alcohol in your system.”

“You’d don’t seem drunk?”

“I’m not. It was only a couple glasses of wine.” Your brow furrowed, looking up at her.

“The nurse said something about you falling?”

“Oh…” you ducked your gaze again, the defensiveness fading from you, turning into shame as you felt the tears threating their way into your eyes, “that…”

“Sweetheart…” her voice had that warning hardening to it when she spoke and you let out a sigh, daring to glance up at her.

“Guess I forgot to eat today.”

“You do realize how much pull I have in this hospital, right? I could have a feeding tube in here in minutes.”

Your eyes widened in realization at her words, letting out a small gasp, “oh god! Is he here? I told you I just needed the ride!”

“Turns out we just missed each other.”

“God…” you muttered, burying your face into your hands, “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I just didn’t know who else to call, all my friends are probably out partying. I knew you’d at least be able to send a car…”

“Why not go out with your friends? Seems to be better than carving pumpkins home alone.” She asked with nearly a tease and you let out a scoff.

“Didn’t want to be the one dragging the mood down. Things have kinda been crap recently.”

“I told you to try to get out of the house, go out with your friends, maybe meet some new people?”

“Yeah? Go out with my friends in a feeble attempt to distract myself only to come home to an empty house and a cold bed like always, how is that fair?” You snapped back, “when you’re the one who gets to go home to a loving husband while you pretend nothing else is going on.” When you looked up at her Heather could see the tears burning in your eyes, the frustration and anger pooling within them.

“It’s not.” She replied quietly after a moment, “and that’s one of the reasons I put a stop to us. It wasn’t fair to you or your feelings.”

“And to your husband?” You dared to raise a brow, watching the way Heather’s cheeks flushed briefly as she ducked her gaze before swallowing, looking back up to you.

“It wasn’t fair to him either. I guess I always told myself doing things like this was acceptable because there weren’t feelings involved. I never really thought things through before I started falling in love with you.”

“Don’t fucking say that.” You muttered.

“Is it not what you wanted to hear?”

“I wanted a ride home.” You sniffled, wiping away at a stray tear, “my plan for tonight was to finish the fucking pumpkin, drink a bottle of wine and delete your number from my phone so I wouldn’t be able to text you anymore. I swear I tried to move on, but nobody’s you.”

“You know we can’t pick this up again.” She replied in a whisper, feeling the ache deep in her gut.

“I can do whatever I want.” You reminded her, “it’s you that has restrictions, remember?” You wiped away another tear.

“It was never my intent to lead you on like that, I meant to stick to my own rules. I just got so caught up in it before I even realized.”—

“Stop it.” You snapped, “just fucking take me home.” Shoving back the blanket you stood, probably top quickly, the lightheaded-ness shooting through you once again. Heather thankfully, was faster on her feet, hands gently grasping your shoulders and placing you back on the bed, trying not to smirk at the pout on your lips when you looked back up at her with a glare.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I had a pizza pop for dinner at like, five last night.” You let out a sigh, “I slept through my alarm this morning, had coffee on the way to work, then worked through lunch to make up for being late. I had take out on the way when I sliced myself.”

“So this isn’t some kind of breakup depression effect?”

“No.” You glared at her, “that’s just the crying and the too much wine consumption. Would you stop attempting to lecture me like one of your kids and just take me home. I didn’t want to see you,” your voice started to crumble, “I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Sweetheart…” she couldn’t help it, her own emotions tearing up inside of her, her hand reaching out to stroke at your cheek.

“How am I supposed to get over you when you’re still in my life? How am I supposed to pretend like you’re a terrible person who did nothing but cause hurt when you’ll drop everything to come be my saviour?”

“If you had been drunk or out at some bar I would’ve just sent a car, but how am I supposed to ignore the fact that you’re in the hospital? I was worried.”

“God I wish it was easier to hate you.” You mumbled, letting out a shaky breath. Heather ignored your comment, instead squeezing at your shoulder,

“C’mon, let’s get you out of here.”

With an arm half wrapped around you to make sure you weren’t going to black out on her, she managed to get you outside and into the car. As expected, the car ride was filled with an awkward silence, a piece of her aching with each sniffle or shaky sigh that escaped from you. Her hand slid across the seat between you and while you did first shift away, focussing your stare out the window, you didn’t shy away when her hand hit yours and she was able to curl your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

Arriving at your apartment she wasn’t surprised when you tried to shake her off, thanking her for the ride, grumbling when she insisted on walking you inside. You couldn’t really protest considering you were still pretty dizzy and weren’t sure if you’d make it up the stairs in one piece. Once she was sure you could make it down the hall on your own she let go of your arm, watching you slowly teeter toward your bedroom to change. Her eyes swept through the open kitchen and living room, wine glass abandoned on the coffee table, pumpkin half carved on the floor beside it, blood splattered on the side of it and the table, a small pool of it still slick on the floor. She let out a soft sigh, flicking the light on and grabbing a wet cloth from the kitchen before moving through the space, scrubbing up the blood spots and making sure it was all cleaned up properly. She picked up the knife and the wine glass, returning them to the kitchen to wash as well. She figured she’d leave the pumpkin where it was but gathered up the guts and seeds to throw away so they weren’t a rotting stinking mess in the morning.

“You don’t have to do that.” Your mumble came from the end of the hallway and she turned around with a shrug.

“I just wanted to help.” It was barely above a whisper, she knew deep down inside that she should just leave, that you wanted her gone and her sticking around already wasn’t helping, but her even attempting to take care of you was tearing both of you apart inside. “You should eat something, a soda at least, get some sugar into you before bed.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, pushing past her to the pantry to grab a granola bar, “you happy now? You can go.”

When you looked up at her you were surprised to see both sympathy but also hurt in her eyes and your face fell. This entire time you’d been trying to paint her the villain, make yourself hate her because she was the one who ended it, but she’d ended it for both of your sake’s, she ended it to try and hurt as few people as possible. It had somehow never occurred to you that she was one of the hurt people too. That she really had been falling in love with you and she knew that if she didn’t pull herself away from you she’d be causing one massive disaster for everyone involved. That maybe, just maybe she cared about you just as much as you cared about her, that, in another lifetime you would have been meant to be together.

Heather saw the realization wash over you, the way your eyes softened as the anger dissipated from them, your lip trembling the same way it had the day she’d told you it had to be over. She felt what little resolve she had left deteriorating, the adrenaline from earlier, when she hadn’t know what happened to you had faded away. Her fight or flight response had gone from overprotective mode to being gone, leaving her with just her emotions exposed, raw, right on the edge and ready to break her. She knew that you must have been hurting but she really didn’t know to what extent. It made her feel worse, made her want to take it all back, to figure out a way to make it work but that brought up even more guilt, enough to swallow her up whole. As much as she wanted to be with you, she knew that she would never actually be able to fully be with you. She was at a loss for words, instead stepping cautiously toward you until she was close enough to wrap you into her arms, her body wilting at the sound of cries escaping your lips, your body trembling against hers as the tears began to slide down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry…” your voice was muffled into her shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She whispered back, pressing a feather light kiss to the top of your head and you pulled your face out of the embrace, glancing up at her with watery eyes.

“I never should have told you I loved you, never should have let myself fall in love with you. I knew from the beginning that you were married, that you had a family, you were upfront and honest about it all and I still let myself be an idiot.”

“You don’t let yourself do or not do these kind of things.” She replied, her thumb stroking away your tears, “it just happens. One moment things are normal, and the next you’re filled with butterflies, and it hits you like a sucker punch to the gut because you realize that thing your life has been missing is standing right in front of you and there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to keep them around.”

“Is that what it was like with him?” your voice was barely a whisper, your eyes darting between your feet and Heather’s, not fully wanting to look her in the eye when she responded.

“It wasn’t the only time.” She replied and your gaze shot up to hers, eyes wide at the small smile on her cheeks. The sudden urge to step closer to her, closing the gap between your lips shot through you but you shook yourself out of it, forcing yourself to step back instead. “Sorry.” She muttered quickly, realizing her misstep, “are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “you can go. I’m just going to bed.”

“Okay.” She moved around you before pausing to turn back to you, hand squeezing at your shoulder, “don’t delete my number. Car service is far safer than an Uber or a cab, and you never know when you might need a good lawyer.”

“Fine.” You sighed, “but if I drunk dial you it’s your responsibility to block me.”

“You know I won’t.” She replied, a near smirk on her lips as she moved to the door, “and please don’t be afraid to call if you need help, even if it’s just Venmo for some groceries or wine. If I’m the one who’s made you feel hurt the least I can do is foot the bill to help you feel better.”

“You’re being ridiculous but thank you.”

“I do hope you find someone.” She did her best to smile through the tears blurring in her eyes, “you really deserve it, but only someone who’s going to treat you right, and show you off to the world, showering you with love.”

“Heather…”

“Yes?” She felt a flutter in her chest, a glimmer of hope as she glanced back to you and you let out a sigh.

“Go home. To your husband.” You wrapped your arms tighter around your waist, “thank you for picking me up.”

“You’re welcome.” She did her best to not let her voice shake, pulling open the door to your apartment and quickly disappearing through it.

That was the last time you saw Heather Dunbar.

And it was the last time you ever contacted her.

There were some late, lonely nights that left you wondering if she still thought about you, if falling for you had been the wake up call she’d needed and she stopped having affairs. Or if she just continued on, little meaningless flings with meaningless girls. At the very least you knew you hadn’t been one of those, and at the very least, you hoped that whatever she was doing, she was happy. Because she at least deserved that.

__________________

@ms-calhoun @naturalxselection @yesterdaysgone @hbkpop @giftedchildturns40 @anya-casablanca @svulife-rl  @swimmingstudentchaos891 @alexusonfire @jamiethetrans @red1culous @oliviaswifey @mysticfalls01 @cmmndrwidw @bumblebear30 @svushots @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurs @imaginaryoperagloves @multifandomlesbianic @bookpillows @drduckthief @whimsicallymad @mmmmokdokk @ladysc @momlifebehard @mmemalwa @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @dead-of-niight @fighterkimburgess @lannister-slings-and-arrows @borg-queer @godard-muse  @itisdoctortoyousir @brooklynmhm @nobody-important1212 @emilyprentiss4life @httpjupiterbby @summergeezburr

[imaginewriting1]

best behavior

Ariana Grande x youtuber!reader

Part 7 of "positions"

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 5.5 (1) | 5.5 (2) | 5.5.5 | 6

AN: early access to other chapters can be found on my ko-fi page

Warning: smut

After the heart-to-heart talk you had with Ariana, she suggested for the both of you to spend the morning together. 

“Since Taytay already paid for it, might as well stay till we have to check out?”

You accepted her plan, exploring what the room had to offer while letting Ariana freshen up first. You soon discovered that it was less of a room and more like an apartment. With a living room, kitchen, and a private jacuzzi on a balcony, the entire suite was probably bigger than your house.

You stood on the balcony, appreciating the view you couldn’t see yesterday. You were too absorbed by it to notice Ariana coming up from behind you.

“Hey.” She called out. You turned around, watching as she circled around the jacuzzi to reach you.

“Hi,” You greeted back, “The view is beautiful.”

“It is.” She confirmed, but the both of you weren’t looking anywhere else besides each other. Your smiles mirrored one another as though you were exchanging inside jokes. 

“Hmm, what do you think about using the jacuzzi?”

“We don’t have any clothes to change after.”

The roguish smirk on her face looked out of place on her face. “Skinny dip?”

That was all the warning you got as she started to undress. You turned around immediately. All you heard was the sound of water splashing and laughter. “It’s not like you won’t see this eventually. Come on, get in the water with me.”

You slowly turned back around and found her staring at you. She smiled to herself when you made no movement for a while, turning away to give you the same privacy treatment. You removed your shirt simultaneously hesitant and hurried, ultimately deciding to keep your underwear on. You slipped into the tub after placing your clothes on a nearby chair.

The water was warm, and you would have relaxed into the bubbles if not for Ariana watching your every move. The smile stayed on her face when she saw you pressed against the edge of the jacuzzi. She swam towards you slowly until you were in arm’s reach, and you felt your heart jump with every ripple of the water.

She tugged lightly at the strap of your bra, “Thought you were worried about it getting wet?”

You appreciated how Ariana was trying to make you less nervous with small talk. “I’ll deal with it later,” You attempted to shrug nonchalantly, “Probably with a hairdryer.”

She tilted her head in serious thought. “Or you could use the hotel’s laundry service?”

That would have been a good idea if you were staying overnight. “Don’t those take 24 hours?” 

“We got time,” Ariana said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Wait. What time is it? 

“Shit- I just remembered that we have to check out soon. I’m pretty sure it’s by noon, right? We should-” You were cut off when Ariana pressed a finger against your lips.

“Baby,” she called softly. You noted with surprise that she was using that term of endearment even though there was no one around to hear it. “Don’t worry about that, okay? We can stay for one more night unless you have things to do tomorrow?” She waited for you to shake your head before continuing, “Perfect. Just relax and let others deal with whatever problems you might have. Wet laundry? Solved.”

You had always been independent, doing things on your own. So it was nice to be looked after even if it was just for a day.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” You smiled, slowly sinking into the bubbles. The water reached up to just below your shoulders when you sat on the floor of the jacuzzi, and Ariana found her place on your lap - like it was her rightful throne. 

The both of you soaked in the water in comfortable silence. You were fully relaxed, except for your hands remaining stiff by your side. Ariana seemed content to lie on you, like a cat on a windowsill. You spend the rest of the afternoon in that position, watching the sun chariot across the sky, changing colors as it slowly dipped away from view. Shades of red, purple, and blue, while you couldn’t see it physically, it wasn’t hard to envision the colors on Ariana’s skin. 

When your fingertips turned wrinkly beyond recognition, you decided it was time to head back into dry land. You tapped on Ariana’s shoulder lightly. “I’m going to check out the laundry service. Want me to grab you a towel?” 

She hummed softly, a sound someone makes at the edge of falling asleep. “I think I’ll stay here for a little while longer.” 

You waited for her to move but she made no effort to do so. So you had no choice but to hold her waist and lift her off you, moving away from under her and then placing her back down - all of this done with minimal skin contact.

When you finally got out, you patted yourself dry with a towel you found in the bathroom before finding the information you needed on the hotel’s laundry service. It was easy enough, all you had to do was place your wet garments in the laundry bag provided and hand it over to the service staff who would pick them up. The hard part was going commando with someone knowing that you were doing so. 

The way Ariana’s eyes danced with mirth when you went back out to grab your clothes sent blood to your cheeks. Even though you were wearing a bathrobe, you felt bare under her gaze. You got your clothes and put them back on once you were back safely in the bathroom as fast as humanly possible. You wore your bathrobe for good measure, before getting another one for Ariana. 

Her amusement turned into something more serious when you made eye contact with her again. You raised your eyebrows in question, and she motioned you to go to her with a curl of her fingers.

She doesn’t tell you what’s on her mind and you don’t ask, quietly passing the bathrobe to her. You turned around, only looking back when she cleared her throat. 

You were met with the smooth expanse of skin and you averted your eyes out of habitual politeness. However, the sight of her perched on the edge of the tub, with her back facing you was already seared into your brain.

“Can you help me with it?” Ariana’s voice drew you back to her, and you found her looking over her shoulders, looking at you.

“Y-yeah,” You swallowed, taking the robe back from her and holding up the collar to match her neck. You made sure the hem did not touch the water as she stood up. She turned to face you, and you quickly made a knot with the belt. You repress the urge to tie another knot. “There. You should go inside before you catch a cold.”

Ariana gave a hum of agreement, “I should take a shower. Wanna join me?”

You thought she was just being her teasing self but her face showed no sign of playfulness. You declined politely, to which she responded.

“You know, you’re the only person who doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity to see me naked.”

Being speechless was an understatement, with all the words you know turning blank.

Ariana closed the gap between you, wrapping her arms around your neck. “Or should we just fuck now?”

“Thought you wanted to shower.” You said in a panic. 

“There’s no point showering now if I’m just going to get dirty again.”

You weren’t the type to do things spontaneously, because you like to (over)prepare to ensure everything goes to plan. Thank God you cut your nails yesterday. However, if you were going to have sex with Ariana Grande, you wanted to do it properly. “Can we at least have some food first?”

Ariana looked at you pointedly. “Fine, you need all the energy you can get anyway.” She moved off you swiftly, already looking for the room service menu. You could only let out a small smile of disbelief, still unable to wrap your mind around the singer’s duality.

She wasn’t kidding about her statement when a hotel staff wheeled in a trolley of food and placed them on the dining room table. You sat down hesitantly, unsure of which plate to start with. “Are you sure Taylor’s okay with paying for six people worth of food?” You remark, half teasing, half concerned.

“Just shut up and eat. I’ll take care of the bill,” Ariana mumbled, her tone filled with mild embarrassment and frustration, but without malice. 

You smiled at her reaction, hiding it behind a bite of food that seemed most appetizing to you. You made quick work of the dish, moving on to the next one when you were done. So before you knew it, all that was left was dessert.

Reaching for a plate of chocolate cake, you handed it over to Ariana first before getting one for yourself. However, she doesn’t eat it, choosing to stare at you while you eat yours. You got self-conscious under her stare. “Are you going to eat it?”

“No. I’m hungry for something else.” Ariana replied. “So if you could hurry up.”

Her bold innuendo stirred something in you, causing you to have an epiphany. Here Ariana was, offering something you wanted and all you did was waste time eating cake when you could have something better - her.

You stood up after wiping your mouth with a napkin, tilting your head towards the bedroom. “ I’m sorry for making you wait. I’m ready now. Shall we?” 

“About time.” 

The both of you walked side by side, catching each other glimpsing and looking away with feigned nonchalance. She sat on the edge of the bed, while you stood in front of her awkwardly.

“What do you-” 

“What should I-” You laughed at your overlapping voices, lightening the tension. It seemed like the both of you had a knack for speaking at the same time. She motioned for you to speak first.

“I was going to ask what you like or dislike.” 

“Oh. Normal stuff, I guess.” Ariana said, going shy, any trace of her earlier bravado was gone. “I… um- haven’t done this with a woman before.” 

“Right. I’ll take the lead then.” You said. “First things first, safe words. Green to go, yellow to slow down, and red to stop. Don’t hesitate if you want to stop at any point in time.”

You saw her nod quietly, but that wasn’t enough to satisfy you. “You got to use your words, princess.” 

“Okay.” Even though the sky was darkening (and you forgot to turn on the lights and doing so now would be awkward), you caught the pink hue on her cheeks. 

“What were you going to say earlier?” 

The color deepened into a shade of maroon, “I was wondering what I should do...” 

You gave Ariana some suggestions worded as instructions - she could make herself comfortable on the bed and remove her robe. You turned around when she did, out of habitual courtesy, but you realized the pointlessness of it when Ariana giggled. “It’s not like you aren’t going to see me anyway.” 

You didn’t point out that you couldn’t really see well, with the darkness enveloping your vision. All you could, when you turned back around after you heard a cue in the form of a cough, was the silhouette of her body, partially covered with the duvet. 

The first thought that came to mind was how could someone look so ethereal. The second was how dizzying the desire was, that it almost made you stumble when your feet moved forward. 

You slipped under the covers after you had removed your glasses and placed them on the nightstand. It was a marvel how your skin could feel the body heat emitting off her despite still having your clothes on, despite being miles away. The contrast between the silky cool sheets on your back made her warmth even more inviting, but you only inched closer after she gave you the green light.

Even though this was supposed to be casual, you did not know anything other than reverence when it came to loving women. So you worshiped Ariana like she was Aphrodite Herself. You leave a trail of kisses from her neck, heading south, leaving no inch of skin untouched.

All the sounds she made - every soft whimper, every sharp pant, every incoherent string of curses - burned into your brain, like music to a disc. Just when you thought nothing could sound more heavenly, she cried out your name.

All of a sudden, your sole purpose in life is to hear her say it again, and again, and again. You played her body like it was an instrument, conducting an orchestral cacophony that crescendoed until all could be heard was profound silence.

[winchesterxxi]

Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees​

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ 

When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child  “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

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[bokutoslittlebird]

Sorrow [pt. 2 of Regrets]

Alpha!Ushijima x Beta!f!reader

Warnings: this is angst and nothing else, mentions of reader’s death, miscarriage, Japanese funeral, introduction of [Y/N]’s family (no names), Ushijima’s bitch of a mother

The week after your suicide was the worst.

The day after is when Ushijima was informed by your distressed father, asking if he had heard the news. With his now-wife in the kitchen, making him breakfast, he listened to your father hold back his cries as he broke the news. Your funeral would be held soon, but family matters came first, so the wake would be held in the next two days. When his wife asked him what was the matter, he told her nothing. It was no longer his business. He left you hurt and broken, but this was not his place anymore. The invitation he received would not be used.

The next day was when he decided he would be attending your wake. A phone call from Tendō had him changing his decision, his sad voice asking if Ushijima can give the condolences he could not. Of course Ushijima would decide to go after that, giving your family a hefty amount of money and telling them it was his and Tendō’s condolence money. A trip to Japan suddenly was hard for Tendō, so hopefully your family would understand.

His wife seemed displeased at this event he’d be going to, but she said no more. He knew what she thought. She thought he wasn’t over you. Looking at her across the dinner table, he couldn’t find himself to blame her. The off-the-shoulder dress she adorned showed off her flawless skin — not a single bruise, hickey, or bond along it. After all, his mother was never bonded to his father, why would he force himself to bond to her?

But he bonded you.

He wonders if deep down inside, he did want to be with you. It would’ve never worked out, he tells himself when that thought flickers in his mind. A small candle he quickly snuffs out as soon as it’s lit, not wanting the flame to burn to bright nor too hot.

The day had finally arrived. Other Shiratorizawa alumni and peers of yours attended. A wake was held at your family’s house, to which he was also there. It was hard to ignore, but he felt out of place while people had their heads in their hands and continued to sob until tears stopped flowing. He felt sad, he shed a few tears, but not as much. Some friends of yours would look at him, glaring before looking back towards the altar.

Upon the altar, surrounded by flowers, especially your favorite, sat a picture of you. It looked like you — smiling joyfully as you held up a peace sign. In the back was the rest of the Shiratorizawa’s VBC. The picture was from last year, when he was still attending the school. You were only a second year, but you were the best manager for the team, even if they lost to Karasuno. A smile was plastered on your face, placed so freely and easily as if it was meant to never leave. Thinking back to when you left his house, you weren’t smiling.

That didn’t sit right with him.

When it was his time to be given a gift from the family members, your mother stopped him. “I’m glad you came. I’m sure she’s glad you came, too,” she said through her tears, a forced smile on her face. Ushijima wipes the tears away, before taking the gifts from her hands.

“I hope so, but I doubt it. Satori also gives his condolences. I know he’d be here if he wasn’t so far away,” he says, bowing. She thanks him and he leaves, but a friend of yours stops him before he can go too far.

“It’s your fault, you know. She wouldn’t be dead if you hadn’t left her,” they sneered, glaring at him despite the tears in their eyes and wavering lips. He sighs, but doesn’t dispute their claim. It isn’t his place to tell them where the blame lies. The blame lies in someone, whether that be him, them, your parents, society, or even you — it’s not up to him to tell them any different.

By the time Ushijima has made it to his car, his phone buzzes. From the hospital his wife goes to for checkups, he notes. Taking the call, he listens to the receptionist on the other end of the call.

“I’m sorry to inform you this way, sir, but your wife has suffered from a miscarriage,” she says. Ushijima feels his heartbeat increase as he feels his chest tighten. He won’t lie to himself and say he loves his wife — an arrangement forced by his mother with no room for love to bloom. However, the news of her miscarriage is news he didn’t expect or want to hear.

“Where...” he gulps, trying to stabilize his breathing. “Where is she?”

“She’s at the hospital. She won’t be able to leave for the next day or so, depending if she feels better and nothing is wrong with her. We’ll keep her overnight to check.”

“Thank you. I’ll come to get her tomorrow, then,” he ends the call there. He doesn’t question how she got there, if he should go, or if he should just sit in his car and watch people leave your wake. Sitting in his car doing exactly that, he decides going home to take in everything would be best.

Your funeral begins the next day at noon, Ushijima in attendance. With nobody at home, he feels as if this is a funeral for you and his miscarried child. He witnesses your family pay a hefty amount of money to give you a more elaborate name, most likely from the condolence money he offered to them. He thinks it’s fitting, given he didn’t do much when you were alive; in death, you’d benefit from his existence.

When the priest finishes the ceremony, the guests are able to see you upon your casket bed. Your mother weeps at the coffin, holding your favorite flowers to her chest while your father cries silently, rubbing his wife’s back. It’s a pitiful scene, but it does well to have tears springing into everyone’s eyes. Ushijima doesn’t have your favorite flowers, but rather a purple hyacinths and asphodel bouquet to place beside you. His place of choice? Above your heart, next to the bond he created. Despite the makeup and the kimono, he knows it’s there. He can sense it.

His sorrow comes from the lack of a beat behind the bond.

Once the funeral has come to a close, with your coffin being taken to the crematorium and your family moving to go follow, everyone is dismissed. However, your friend from before stops him before he can retreat to his car. “May I help you?”

“I saw the flowers you placed around her head. You do have a heart, apparently,” they scoffed, before moving to get off his car. A quick glance shows they didn’t damage it. “You shouldn’t have even been here. I wish she had never even met you and I regret telling her about the volleyball manager position.”

Ushijima doesn’t say a word back, but he does bow respectfully. They leave without looking back, letting him peacefully get into his car. He takes a couple of minutes to himself, knowing he has to go retrieve his wife from her hospital stay.

The drive home from the hospital was brutal. Silence hung in the air, Ushijima still dressed from when he attended your funeral. His wife sat in the passenger seat, yet had her eyes trained on the window and didn’t glance at him even once. He didn’t tell her he’d be going to your funeral as well, which might be why she’s upset, but he didn’t push an issue.

Arriving at home, she finally opened her mouth. “Your mother will be picking me up soon. She said she’ll take care of me while I properly recover.”

Once more, Ushijima says nothing. She scoffs, leaving the car to get her things. He doesn’t hurry, instead dragging his feet as he enters the house. It’s big and spacious, easy to feel alone in. When a knock resounds through the front room, Ushijima answers it to see his mother, the constant frown on her face as she looks up at him.

“I’ve come to get Mai.” Quick and to the point, as usual. She enters when he allows it, with his wife coming into the room shortly after. With barely any acknowledgement to his presence, his mother guides his wife out, rubbing her shoulder as she sniffles and spills some tears.

A click behind the door shutting really lets the silence settle. Ushijima trudges up to his bedroom, loosening his tie and shedding his jacket along the way. He changes into some more comfortable clothes, sitting on his edge of the bed while scrolling through the text messages Tendō has sent him throughout the day. Nothing of importance, but some of them do make him smile as it lights up the darkness life has forced upon him.

One of the messages is an old picture, one of Tendō and you throwing up a peace sign while smiling widely. Your eyes are shut while you grin, absolutely full of joy. With nobody around to witness his confession, nor the tears plinking against his phone screen, he doesn’t feel the need to snuff out the candle again. He doesn’t shove his feelings deep inside.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I shouldn’t have let you go and I should have been honest. I truly do love you. I regret not standing up to my mother. I regret not having the strength to confront my mistake. But most of all,” he wipes a few tears, zooming in on your smiling face, a sorrowful smile on his face to mirror yours.

“I regret letting you leave that day.”

Author’s Note: This is the direct sequel to Regrets ; the flowers mentioned (purple hyacinths and asphodels) both represent a similar meaning — regret and “I’m sorry”, which I thought was fitting to the original work, as well as the other piece I’m working on. However, purple hyacinths also express the bearer’s sorrow and asks for forgiveness, which is where the title comes from for this piece.

[the-himawari]

A3! Mizuno Kaya - Translation [SSR] The Company President of April 1st (2/3)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

---

Izumi: (T-these people are…? They’re all wearing glasses and they kind of give off a rough vibe…)

Mizuno: Those guys are the members of the Development department.  MIZUNO Enterprise also has an in-house engineering department. When we launch any sort of internet or other service, these guys carry out the development.

Izumi: I see. (But they feel kind of threatening though…)

Banri: Oi, you know what we’re talkin’ about, don’tcha?

Juza: It’s about the contract Kazunari-san agreed on.

Azami: It’s cause of you spoutin’ “that’s possible, that’s possible,” without any thought that the deadline’s become hard to deal with.

Omi: I’m glad you’re leaving it in our hands to develop it, but…

Taichi: It was way too tricky this time, y’know…! We ended up staying at the office overnight…!

Banri: What kinda selfish shit are you pullin’?

Kazunari: Ehh~! But guys, if it’s y’all at the Development department, then you totes got it under control, right!

Sakyo: Don’t just leave it all to someone else so lightly. Are you screwin’ with me? In the first place, you punk ass…!

Kazunari: Well, I trust everyone on the Dev team! And besides…!

Mizuno: Now, now, you two.

Sakyo: President…

Mizuno: Let’s find a way to come to an agreement that reduces our company’s workload while satisfying the other party as well.

Sakyo: …I understand.

Kazunari: Yeah, that works… Sorry to the Dev team too. I’ll consult with them again.

Izumi: (This issue was settled really well. As expected of President Mizuno…)

Mizuno: Now then, on that topic, how about we take a tour of the Development department next?

Izumi: Sure!

Taichi: Ahh, wait, don’t tell me—it’s the new hire’s tour around each department!?

Mizuno: Yes, I showed her the Sales department just now…

Sakyo: ! You…

Izumi: ? (This person’s staring at me with a surprised look on his face…)

Mizuno: What’s the matter, Sakyo-san?

Sakyo: …Well, it was quite a long time ago, I suppose. You don’t remember, huh?

Izumi: (Remember…? Also, speaking of Sakyo… AHH!) Could it be, Sakyo onii-chan…!?

Employees: SAKYO ONII-CHAN!?

Omi: Do you two know each other?

Sakyo: We lived in the same neighbourhood when we were kids.

Izumi: I made him play with me a lot, but then onii-chan moved away a short time later…

Mizuno: I see, you are… childhood friends.

Juza: Then it’s a long-awaited reunion.

Sakyo: I see, you’re already at the adult working age too, huh…

Banri: He’s legit wiping his tears away.

Azami: His old man-stink’s increasin’.

Sakyo: Shut it—who is?

Banri: New hire-chan, you’re thinking ‘bout where you’ll be assigned to from now on, right?

Taichi: It'll be easy to work if you have someone you know, so won’t you join the Development department? I wanna work with you too!

Omi: Yeah, we welcome you.

Azami: I just joined the company last year too. If you come to the Development department, I’ll take care of you.

Banri: I’ll teach you anything you want, so you can count on me.

Sakyo: If there’s somethin’ you don’t know, or that’s troubling you, or if there’s anything you wanna know, I’ll help you anytime.

Izumi: Thank you very much…! (I thought they were kind of intimidating before, but everyone’s really kind.)

-pause-

Sakyo: Well, the Development department’s noisy like this, but we have some pretty interesting points too.

Banri: By the way, oi, Hyodo! If you review the code you wrote, it’s trash, dumbass!

Juza: AHH? There’s no way it is. Your eyes are what’s trash, jackass.

Banri: The hell d’you say!?

Taichi: Omi-kun, I’ve lost my concentration~, help me~!

Omi: Perfect, the quiche just finished so how about you take a break? Please help yourselves if you’d like, too, President, Tachibana-san.

Mizuno: Thank you very much. Itadakimasu.

Izumi: Thank you very much!

Mizuno: Fushimi-kun uses the in-office oven and makes food and sweets for us like this.

Izumi: Wow, it looks and smells really great. Itadakimasu. …! It's delicious!

Omi: Haha, I’m glad.

Juza: The sweets Omi-san makes are real good. I’m sure you’ll like ‘em too.

Taichi: We also have Omi-kun’s tasty snacks! It’s cool and fun, so choose the Development department!

Mizuno: Now then, it’s about time for my meeting with everyone from the Secretarial department. Let’s head over together, Tachibana-san.

-pause-

Izumi: (I-I can’t believe I’m allowed to enter the President’s office…! It’ll be pretty hard to get a chance to in the future…)

Mizuno: Now then, let’s begin the meeting. Tachibana-san, please observe from over there.

Izumi: Yes!

Tsumugi: I’ve summarized the details from the meeting the other day. The related documents are over here.

Mizuno: They’re very easy to understand and this helps a lot. The flowers that you’ve placed out today are also very beautiful.

Izumi: (By flowers, he means that beautiful flower arrangement that’s decorating the President’s office, right?)

Mizuno: I’m always able to work comfortably thanks to you, Tsukioka-san. Thank you very much.

Tsumugi: Not at all. I’m glad I could be of help.

Azuma: Fufu, as expected of Tsumugi, the soothing secretary.

Tasuku: I’ve carried over the all the documents and items and such to be used in the prep meeting with the client.

Mizuno: Understood. Sorry for always leaving the physical work to you.

Tasuku: Please leave it to me anytime. Also, here’s this week’s training menu. Let’s go to the gym tomorrow too. I’ve prepared new protein and drinks.

Homare: Body building secretary Tasuku-kun’s special training menu and special drinks, hm?

Mizuno: Thank you very much. Could you also give me some advice on stretching when you have time between work?

Tasuku: Of course.

Hisoka: Did you sleep well yesterday, President?

Mizuno: Indeed. It’s all thanks to Mikage-san, the pleasant sleep support secretary.

Hisoka: That’s great. Today, I’ve prepared a drink to have before you sleep, and a nicely scented candle. I also found a cushion that feels snuggly, so please give it a try.

Mizuno: Fufu, I’m looking forward to them all.

Hisoka: And I’ve prepared marshmallows too.

Mizuno: The marshmallows Mikage-san prepares when I’m craving something a little bit sweet are truly delicious.

Azuma: Your skin condition also looks good, partly because of the good night’s sleep you got.

Mizuno: The cream Yukishiro-san recommended is very comfortable to use, and I apply it all the time.

Azuma: I’m glad you’ve taken a liking to it. Let’s go to the beauty-treatment salon another time.

Mizuno: Yes.

Guy: Beauty secretary Yukishiro really knows the President’s skin and hair well after all, huh?

Izumi: (I see, the President meets with people often, so things like that are important too.)

Azuma: Fufu, you look very nice today, President Mizuno. Nothing but respect for my President.

Mizuno: T-thank you very much…!

Homare: Now then, these are the documents and materials to be used in the conference at noon.

Mizuno: Impressive, they’re so artistic again this time!

Homare: Why, naturally!

Tsumugi: The documents and materials Homare-san, the fine arts secretary, makes are famous both in-house and among our client companies.

Homare: I have several artistic propositions as well, so please expect them.

Mizuno: Yes! I’m looking forward to it.

Guy: Regarding the documents you will use in the conference this afternoon—. Furthermore, regarding the schedule afterwards and getting in touch with each section to communicate with the client—.

Mizuno: I understand. On that issue, there’s also…

Guy: Understood.

Tasuku: Guy-san really is prompt in what he does.

Hisoka: That’s the secretarial android for you.

Homare: He also serves as the President’s security, so he is truly reliable.

Mizuno: What do you think, Tachibana-san? A meeting with the Secretarial department goes like this.

Tsumugi: President Mizuno is very busy, so the Secretarial department provides full backup for the management of his schedule and tasks.

Mizuno: Everyone supports me by making use of the skills each of them excel at, and it’s truly such a great help.

Izumi: That’s wonderful…!

Azuma: What do you think? Would you like to join the Secretarial department and try working with us?

Homare: That would be splendid. It is sure to be exciting!

Tasuku: The work of a secretary is also rewarding.

Guy: Yes. I will teach you anything if something is unclear to you.

Hisoka: Everyone in our department goes out to have tea and drinks together too.

Tsumugi: If you’re interested, then definitely join us. Even if you end up joining a different department, please don’t hesitate to call out to us as we’ll consult with you or lend you a hand anytime.

Izumi: Right, thank you very much! (Everyone’s so amazing…!) (I wonder if I’ll be able to contribute much in this company that’s full of such impressive people…?)

Tsumugi: Huh?

Tasuku: It looks like a fluorescent light is about to go out.

Izumi: ? I hear the sound of footsteps all of a sudden...

Mizuno: …!

---

previous | next

[passivenovember]

Chapter Six of : If Snow Loves the Trees and Fields

--

Billy goes home less than an hour after Steve suggests they play operation. When he looks at Billy with eyelashes Neil Armstrong could see from the moon and suggests they cozy up among the coffee table books to do some lasting good in the world; get the tooth out of that guy's dick for him--

Billy has to get out of there.

It was too much.

The house. The colors. The fabric. The smell of Steve's shampoo, which is less like peeled lemons and more like funeral flowers, the longer Billy sits around getting sunburnt under the intense light of a man who wasn't interested in him beyond starched collar friendship.

And he's not mad at Steve. Isn't on his way to punch a hole in his drywall, or anything, but he's mad at himself. Mad at his heart for kicking up a cloud of pink smoke when Billy stands and says he'd better get going. 

And Steve's face falls like snow that covers Billy's driveway, that glues his feet together.

"Papers." Billy says quickly, searching for the coat he knows he didn't bring up the drive.

"Newspapers?" Steve goes along with him, adjusting the yellow bandana behind his ears. He turns with a swoosh of his orange rug robe to dig through the shelves on the wall. "I have some here. Old ones, new ones. There's an edition from 1985 about the mall burning down, it's pretty interesting. Would you like that?"

"Sure, I'll, uh--" Billy takes the yellowing pages from Steve without really thinking about it, jerking away when Harrington lands too close. Close enough that Billy can see the specks of green in his eyes. "I meant. Teaching papers. Assignments." The newspaper smells old. Like books and dust, and faintly of spilled bong water from the pipe of a baghead teenager long ago. "I have to grade papers."

Steve doesn't take it back from him. "I thought you taught kindergarten."

"I do."

"Kindergarteners write papers?" Steve's hair flops across his forehead. Like big, wavy puppy dog ears on either side of his face. 

Billy has to force his tongue to stay in his mouth, his eyes to stop staring. "I meant, like. Spelling. Numbers. Rudimentary bullshit." Billy shakes the newspaper at puppy dog Steve. "Declan Parks can't even tie his own shoes, so--"

"Alright. Okay." Steve says sweetly, pushing Billy's hand back to his own chest, fingers wrapping around his palm. "Take it with you. There's a lot of history in this town, mythology and folklore--rumors of bloodsucking aliens and evil scientists camping out under the power plant." Steve doesn't let go of Billy's hand. He grins instead, dimples popping like fireworks on his face. "We're a regular Twin Peaks ripoff. Read about it, let me know what you think." And.

Steve doesn't back away. Doesn't back down.

"I'll give you a ring sometime." Billy says suddenly.

"Okay."

"Yeah, alright, uh." Billy backs toward the front door, two finger salute making pink skies land on Steve's face. "Thanks for the grub. I'll see you in the driveway, or--"

Steve laughs, following Billy to the door. 

"Around. Yeah, Steve, I'll--"

Steve places a hand on Billy's shoulder and the world stops spinning. Melting right off the bone. Billy fights to get air in his lungs as Steve brushes a lock of hair from his forehead, fingertips lighting Billy's skin on fire.

"See you around, neighbor." Steve says.

And Billy knows, feels in his bones, that he'd do better moving across town.

--

It keeps snowing. 

Morning noon and night, wood nymphs piling on ice and hail down on a town of 36,000 people until Billy feels alone. Like an animal trapped in a beige house on a white street that exists in a bubble. A snow globe immune to light and sound. 

There's a period of days where school is cancelled and Billy runs out of things to keep himself occupied. All the books have been read and returned to their place on the shelf. All the films watched and replayed until Billy draws his own conclusions, until the characters feel like his own.

On the first day Billy feels like he's losing his mind.

He orders groceries. Picks up some thermal socks. Considers making a pie or something from scratch, like his mother used to do before Neil went missing on Christmas Eve, but. He doesn't have a rolling pin.

On the second day he drags a chair over to the window and stares at the warm, peachy light from Steve's upstairs window as it shine on the drifts that gather and climb toward heaven. Billy thinks about that living room as if it were a vision from some other planet. A universe crafted in the image of virality.

Billy thinks about Steve and wishes he could be like that. 

Wide eyed. Free.

--

On the third day, Megan says Billy should begin preparing for spring.

"We're snowed in." Billy mutters, cleaning up the polish on his toes. A gorgeous matte eggplant color that proves--spring isn't on his radar. 

"You're getting bogged down with the ice and snow," Megan reiterates, pen scratching across the page so loudly that Billy can hear it with the phone on speaker. "Before long the flowers will bloom again. The sun will shine, it's something everyone has to prepare for. Rebirth, growth--"

"I don't have a garden."

"Don't be a shitter, Billy." Megan sighs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "We can work with that. Would it do some good to plant one?"

Billy starts painting his other foot. "I don't want to stay in Hawkins forever."

"That's understandable."

"And I have plans this spring." Billy twists the cap onto the nail polish, swinging his foot around in the air as if that'll make things move faster. "Max and I want to go hiking back home. I'm supposed to help my mom get the boathouse ready for the summer, and I don't want to start something permanent in a place I can't see myself settling down in--"

"A couple marigold bushes are not permanent, you could kill 'em off with a single neglectful week in the summer and you know it." Megan falls silent, only the click of her pen left behind. "This move has been rough on you, and it's been rough on your body, and it's been hell on your space."

Billy shrugs. "It's been fine on my space."

"Have you even finished unpacking?" Megan demands, strictly business.

"I don't want to set down roots--"

"You've lived in Hawkins for two years, Billy, and you haven't finished unpacking."

A lump appears in his throat, just like that, just. Choking the air from his lungs. Megan must hear Billy swallow, or sense the shift in the air because her voice goes soft around the edges. Pliant. "It's a new cycle." 

Billy tries not to think about Max. "Alright."

"Time to blow the cobwebs away." 

"Dust the spider houses." Billy says to himself. He tries not to think about their garden back home, the fertile smell of fresh Earth somehow finding its way to Hawkins despite Billy's efforts. He misses Mammoth Lakes. He tries not to think about it. Then; "Max is coming down for my week off."

"That's not until March."

"So?"

Megan sighs, like Billy should get it by now. "That's way into the spring season, what you need this year is to get a head start." She scribbles something down on the page again. "We've been through this before. You're beyond me spelling out what you need. You've been my client long enough to know the type of person you are, Billy."

He smirks. "Yeah, and what kind of person is that?"

"Someone who likes to open his doors and let in the fresh air." She moves some papers around, voice firm. "Bright colored walls, and bird baths littering diverse lawns even though they turn to green slime when not filtered properly. The kind of man who likes to shop second hand because 'everything has a soul--'"

"Are you reading from my journal?"

"Need I go on?" Megan lets Billy mull it over for a moment. Lets him draw is own conclusions. When she speaks again it's like Billy already knows what she wants to say. Already believes it himself, but. That's never stopped her before. 

"We were just talking about Steve last week."

"We're always talking about Steve," Billy snaps. "Last week, and the week before that, and yesterday and tomorrow--"

"Perpetually." Megan teases. "I know. But you said you liked his house. That's what we discussed last time; not Steve or his hair or how embarrassed you are about the rats--" Billy wishes everyone would let that part go. "But his house. The way it made you feel."

He can see it in his minds eye--Megan leaning forward, legs uncrossed on her big hammock chair, blue and gray glasses catching the glint in her eye as she pokes through his spirit and lands at the root.

The bone.

"What is it you liked about Steve's place and what is it you hate about your own and where is the through line?"

She gives him homework. Student and teacher.

Billy hates homework, but. He jots the instructions down in his notebook anyway and wonders, distantly, if the skies will continue to open above his head and if he'll ever learn to accept it.

--

On the fourth day Billy's power goes out. 

Just like that. 

With no bang or whimper it's just there one moment and gone the next.

One minute he's watching Wayne's World, wrapped in five blankets and eating soup from one of those bowls with the built in straw, and the next he's submerged in darkness. Looking around the living room like a startled chicken, still slurping down tomato soup and hoping it's just a surge.

It's not. 

Billy finishes his soup.

He manages to keep the feeling in his toes even as he wanders around the house lighting every candle he can find, sticking towels over the cracks in his front door and remembering to turn the faucets on drip so the pipes won't freeze overnight.

Outside the storms keep raging.

Billy can't see the end of the front porch, so he grabs his blankets and heads to bed. Remembers to plug in his phone, on the off chance that the power will come back on while he's out, and Billy feels good about himself for a lot of reasons. For remembering his Midwestern Winter Survival Skills, and buying thermal socks when he went shopping last week, and as the temperature keeps dropping Billy feels himself drifting off.

Warm and safe in his cocoon of blankets, he wonders if the power has come back on when someone bangs on his bedroom window.

Billy sits bolt upright, hissing as cold air manages to snake in through an opening near his feet. The knock comes again, louder this time, and Billy thinks about what he read from that article in the Hawkins Post dated July 5th, 1985. 

"Billy?" 

Harrington is wrapped in a blanket. 

That's all, just a knitted monstrosity of orange and green draped across his shoulders, paired with a black hoodie and the care bears scarf that haunts Billy's dreams. He's got yellow gardening gloves on his fingers and, over his head of wavy brown hair, a pink beanie that reads, If I Die of Aids--Forget Burial--Drop My Body on the Steps of the FDA, in teal block letters.

Steve Harrington could break hearts.

Billy's heart is floating through the air, just. Decimated. As Steve smiles and taps on the window. "I tried the front but I figured you were asleep." He says.

And it takes Billy a minute to find his voice. He opens the window, grimacing at the snow on the ledge that topples in. "What are you doing?"

"I cleared a path. Around the house. By the propane tank." Steve says, gesturing with his stupid little gloves. "I took care of the driveway for you. And put some ice melt down, brought some firewood up to the door."

"Wait, what?"

"I just picked some up from Melvalds yesterday, it's no biggie--"

"The powers out." Billy grumbles, using the corner of his blanket to scrub at his face. "Shouldn't you be stock piling layers, like the rest of us?"

"'S not so bad at home."

"It's colder in here than it is outside."

Steve jabs a thumb over his shoulder. "Mr. Bane's auditioning to be a starfish on my mattress."

"Push that little fucker over the edge." 

Steve leans back, gripping the window ledge with an easy smile. "I could never do that. We have a system--I let him sleep on my bed every night on the condition that he doesn't shit in the hallway anymore." Steve lifts one hand and taps his forehead, pleased as punch. "Work smarter, not harder. Right?"

And that makes Billy blush. Either from the image of Steve's fat Mainecoon running the show or the fact that Steve lets it happen, even on the coldest night of the year. 

It's sweet. 

Steve's sweet. Like sun tea with extra sugar, just--

"So where does that leave you?" Billy muses, picking at a loose thread on his pillow case just to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. "It's too cold for the floor, and the living room's gotta be drafty, right?"

Steve shrugs, leaning against the window pane and looking over his shoulder, as if daring the ice to fall again. "I have an extra blanket or two, should be alright."

With his head turned that way Billy can see moles--dozens of little chocolate kisses sprinkled over Steve's skin, swirling and disappearing under the hood at his neck. 

He's beautiful.

Billy thinks the moles could taste like cinnamon or nutmeg. Hot chocolate with little drops of citrus enriching the flavor--

"You could sleep here." Billy's mouth says. 

Steve stares at him, eyes wide, but. Not surprised. Not mean. "Really?" He asks, folding his arms on the window pane and studying Billy's face. Forehead and eyelashes and back again, like maybe this is a joke. "You'd let me sleep on the couch?"

"Sure."

"What makes you think your places' gonna be any better?" Steve demands.

Light.

Teasing.

Billy shrugs again and his stupid blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a strip of hoodie that may as well be his bare fucking skin, the way Steve's eyes track the movement. Filing it away for some unknown purpose even as Billy rights himself again. He feels every bit like the heroine in those shitty dieback erotica's his mom still reads every Saturday morning. The window lets in gust after gust of frigid air and Billy decides that he isn't going to beg.

"I'm not going to beg," Billy reiterates, though he doesn't sound convinced. "Come sleep at mine or don't, that's--"

"Unlock the front door," Steve says, and then he's gone, rainboots leaving a trail of footprints to show that this was real. 

That one night, with ice covering the trees and fields like a blanket of hope, Steve was real.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄12

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: Chapter 12!? I didn’t think I could get through it but I did. God, these men are driving me mad.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your meeting ended. At last. Bucky’s hand kept straying to your knee and each time you scraped your chair away, he inched closer. You ignored him for the ledger but he didn’t relent until you had thoroughly reviewed every digit.

You stood and Bucky did too. Steve yawned as he pushed himself from the stiff armchair and adjusted the belt of his pants. You collected the ledger and your purse. You flitted to the door as the latter neared and whispered to Bucky. They laughed and you hurried through the open door.

“I’m sure Loki has a lot to figure out and we’ll be on our way back soon enough. It’s a long ride.” 

You went to the next door but were stopped by a hand on your arm. Bucky turned you to face him.

“Doesn’t sound like a fun ride, though,” He winked and you wriggled away from him. “I need a word with the boss before you head out.”

He reached past you and turned the handle. You almost tripped as you moved out of his way and he entered without pause. You spun and followed him, barely slipping between him and Steve as the henchman kept close behind. Loki’s voice died and he stood from his desk as he hung up his phone.

“Hello?” He greeted tersely.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bucky tucked a hand in his pants pocket. “We just finished up and I didn’t want to waste any more of your time. I know you’ll be heading out soon and all that.”

“Hmm?” Loki lifted a brow dryly and straightened his jacket.

“Me and Steve are gonna stay and keep cleaning up around this place. My crew will be here tomorrow to start clearing out most of it.” Bucky pulled his hand from his pocket, a black rectangle in his hand. “I think it might be easier if you packed a bag… stayed in town tomorrow.”

Loki stared as Bucky offered one of the tiny black folders. Bucky shrugged and neared to tuck it in Loki’s front pocket before he patted it. He then turned to you and handed you the other.

“The rooms are all taken care of for the month,” He explained as you carefully opened the small black folder to reveal a key card. “I just figured it would save you time and gas. You’re no doubt antsy to be out of here as soon as you can.”

Loki sighed as his tongue poked his upper lip. He rubbed his long nose and glanced at you.

“I suppose you’re right,” He ceded. “Your hospitality is admirable… and appreciated.”

“Not at all,” Bucky gave a crooked grin. “We should really start working together, don’t you think? This place could be a goldmine with the two of us in charge.”

Loki squinted. “Certainly.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer,” Bucky backed away to the door as Steve hovered on the other side of the frame. “I’d be all too happy to go back to the city…” He paused and peeked over at you. “And unwind.”

“Hmm,” Loki checked his watch. “Yes.”

Bucky tapped the door frame before he left. You let out a long breath and rested the ledger against your hip.

“How was the meeting?” Loki asked as their footsteps faded away.

“A meeting. You’re not going to like the numbers.” You warned.

“I’m not so worried about those,” Loki’s eyes lingered in the doorway. “Did he… do anything?”

“Nothing unusual. Boasting, mostly.” You replied.

“And you? What did you do?” He challenged.

“My job,” You hissed.

“Your job,” He mused as he strode closer. “Always so diligent. Well, let me tell you what your job will be tonight. You will have thirty minutes to pack for tomorrow’s return and then you will come to mine and help me pack.” He preened and smirked down at you. “And then we will ‘unwind’ as he so eloquently put it.”

You blinked as your cheek twitched. You nodded and turned away from him. You looked down at the little folder in your hand. You should be thankful that Bucky got you your own room but you suspected it was more for his good than yours. And a plastic card wouldn’t keep either of them away from you.

👄

Your night went as expected. Loki was angry and didn’t withhold his temper. The prospect of a new venture with Bucky embittered his already caustic demeanour. And the thought of a whole month in Atlantic City with the man barely helped. Either of you. 

You dreaded whatever ploy this was as you slumped in the car seat and Loki drove. The occasional grumble of displeasure wisped from his lips. Thor was to meet him at the casino later that day. Lopez would oversee the antique store as the rest of Loki’s business was overseen by a man called Heimdall who had flown overnight from London to do the older brother a favour.

You pulled up to the casino before noon and yawned. You grabbed your leather tote, the ledger stuffed inside, and followed Loki across the pavement. The doors were propped open and men in dusty jeans and canvas overalls passed in and out. The days work was already underway and you doubted it would be done before sundown.

You heard a familiar voice booming from inside. As you entered, you were stunned as the now bare windows lit the immense space of the foyer. You shield your eyes as a particular slat of sunshine made you teary. A figure approached from your left as Bucky ceased his demands and appeared before you and Loki.

“You made good time,” Bucky clapped Loki’s shoulder. “I hope you had a restful night.”

“Mmm,” Loki rolled his eyes and peered around. 

“Your contractor is around here somewhere,” Bucky looked at the men as they went about their work. “I think he was having a look at the east staircase.”

“Darby?” Loki uttered. “Well, he should be able to take care of himself well enough.”

“Better roll up those sleeves,” Bucky nudged him as he turned to stand beside him. He admired the storm around him. “We’re all hands on deck today… except you, sweetheart. We got you a nice little space upstairs where you won’t be disturbed.”

He looked around Loki and winked. Loki’s lips curled and he shook his head.

“I can help too,” You insisted. “No sense in sitting around while you all--”

“In those heels. In that dress,” Bucky scoffed. “These men don’t need a distraction.”

“Excuse me--”

“Anyways, there is one thing you need to do,” Bucky continued on as Loki’s hand strayed to your lower back and he stepped closer to you. “You’ll need a desk. There was one up there but uh, not very stable. We trashed it last night.”

“A desk?” You crossed your arms. “I can make do with a table. Or my lap.”

“Nah,” He waved away your protest then signaled across the foyer. “I’ll have Steve take you around. The office is all cleaned up for ya, just needs a lady’s touch so while you’re out, grab whatever else you need.”

“This is really not--”

“It’s almost noon,” Bucky announced as Steve approached. “More than enough time for you two.” He looked to his henchman and grinned. “You good to take her now?”

Steve dusted off his palms and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His shirt sleeves were pushed halfway up his forearms and a tail had come untucked.

“Let me just find my jacket,” Steve winked at you. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“Take care of the desk,” Bucky jabbed Steve’s chest. “Oh, and don’t forget a chair. Can’t have her sitting on a stack of rubble.”

“Course, boss,” Steve smirked. “Think I can handle a shopping trip.”

“Think you can?” Bucky mocked as he turned back to Loki. “Right, we should go find this Darby guy.”

“In a moment,” Loki frowned. “I just need a word with my bookkeeper.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover the desk and the like,” Bucky assured as Loki began to usher you aside.

“It’s not a worry,” Loki sneered. “We do have other business.”

Loki grabbed your upper arm and your heels scuffed across the floor as he urged you away from the two men. His jaw ticked as he glanced out the double doors.

“I hope Thor arrives soon. Always late.” He muttered before he cleared his throat. “Darling, you behave.” He felt around and reached into his jacket. He flipped out his wallet and plucked a black card from its folds. “Spend what you must. I’ll not have this man acting benefactor.”

“Um, okay,” You took the card hesitantly. “Loki, I--”

“I am not stupid. I see what he is doing. Him and that drone of his,” Loki growled. “Keep your eye on that oaf.”

You covered the card with your hand and chewed your lip. It would’ve been funny to see Loki so perturbed in any other circumstance, but you suspected you were as much the butt of the joke as him.

👄

If you thought the car ride with Loki the day before was awkward, the one with Steve was grueling and suffocating. You sat in the passenger seat of the flashy sports car and picked at the leather along the door handle. His hand rested on the stick even when he wasn’t changing gears, his fingers tapped on the bulbous head as you felt him peeking at you in the rear view.

“You know,” He finally broke the silence which had thickened after he asked where he was going and you shrugged. “Every time I see you, I just can’t help but think of that day.”

You crossed your arms and went rigid in the seat. You bit the inside of your lip and glared out the window without a word.

“I’m sure you’re wondering which one? The club or the shop?” Steve taunted. “And I really can’t decide if I prefer your ass or your mouth.”

“Would you shut up?” You spat as you finally looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t ignore this tension between us.”

“Oh, do you mean the sheer hatred or the pure revulsion?” You challenged.

“Don’t act all innocent, honey,” He pushed his shoulders back as he steered with one arm and his other hand gripped the stick. “We both know what-- who you did.”

“The worst thing about you men is you don’t seem to understand the concept of silence,” You hissed. “Or many things, to be fair.”

He pulled into a lot and snarled. He pulled into a spot and the car jolted to a stop. He put the car in park and looked at you.

“Actually, I can think of several ways to keep you quiet,” He snickered. “One I already know to be effective.”

Your nostrils flared and you glanced past him to the plaza. You swallowed and reached for your door handle. He hit the locks and the door clicked loudly. You fell back against your seat and crossed your arms.

“Steve,” You huffed. “We’re here to find a desk.”

“We got time.”

“No,” You pressed yourself to the door and avoided looking at him. “Just let me out.”

He killed the engine and the keys jangled loudly before they were muffled behind fabric. His large hand stretched over your thigh and he rubbed you through your skirt. You drew away and crossed your leg over the other. 

His fingers crept up to the waist of your skirt and he picked at it cloyingly. He leaned across the middle of the car and his warm breath singed your cheek.

“Well, come on then,” The doors unlocked loudly. “Let’s go find that desk.”

👄

The furniture store was almost maze-like. The imported furniture was set out in winding pathways and arranged in carefully plotted scenes. Each piece was unique and every single one was expensive. Steve followed closely as you strolled along, pausing to look closer at a mother of pearl vase or a novelty pen cup.

The selection had yet to intrigue you. It didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t really care what your desk looked like. When all was said and done, you’d be back in New York at the tiny one nestled in the back of The Attic. 

You stopped before a display with a zebra print rug rolled out beneath a marbled black desk. The golden legs spiraled up to support the thick top and an array of paperweights and stationary was laid out across it.

You hated it but you didn’t mind the chair behind it. The dark suede looked comfortable; a lush purple cushiony hug. You stepped closer and picked up the golden pen propped up in an empty inkwell. You twirled it and tilted your head at the bookshelves on either side of the display. Those would actually be useful.

As you set the pen back, you sensed something behind you. Steve’s hands brushed along your waist as he pressed himself against you. He gripped your shoulders and inhaled the scent of your hair.

“This would be nice,” He remarked. “Sturdy.”

He reached down with one hand and touched the desktop.

“Just bend you over a little,” He pushed on your shoulder and you caught yourself against the desk. Your arms trembled as he tried to force you down. He rubbed his crotch against you. “Or maybe you could crawl underneath and--”

“Steve, what the fuck?” You struggled against him. “Someone will see.”

“So,” His hand left the desk and ran over your stomach. “Not our problem.”

“Stop,” You caught his hand before he reached your chest. “I mean it. I doubt Bucky--” You turned with effort and shoved him away. He barely flinched. “Sent you to fondle me.”

“You don’t think so?” He grinned.

“What the fuck does that mean?” You felt behind you and grabbed the pen from the inkwell, tipping the little golden cube over.

“It means I can do whatever I want and the boss will pat me on the back,” He stepped closer.

“You do,” You brought the pen around and pointed the sharp nib at his throat. “And I’ll make sure you never touch anyone again.”

He blinked then tilted his head. His eyes drifted down to the pen and he chuckled. He raised his hands and backed away.

“You’re cute,” He said as he tucked his hands in his pockets. “Come on, let’s find you a fucking desk.”

[moonrabbitisgay]

Alright so I’m writing a Teba x Link x Revali fic, and it was originally supposed to be a 1000-2000 word oneshot, but...well, let’s just say I’m at almost 3000 words now and only about 10% of the way through the plot, so. Yeah. 

Anyway, I’m impatient and want to share, but I don’t want to break this up into sub-2000 word chapters, so...I’m just posting a big ol’ chunk of it as, uh, a really long teaser, I guess! I hope y’all enjoy :)

___

Teba knows he’s fucked from the moment he meets Link.

He’s met a few Hylians before, but this one stands out. He’s more...colorful than any other Teba’s seen before, with his golden hair and electric blue eyes and the strange hoops adorning his pointed ears. Teba can’t help but think that he’s far prettier than a Hylian male has any right being, a thought which he immediately pushes out of his mind with an angry huff.

At first, it’s easy to ignore. They have business to attend to, and if he feels a twinge of worry every single time Link narrowly dodges one of Vah Medoh’s lasers, that’s just because he can’t live with another injured warrior on his conscience. The ache in his chest when he leaves him alone on the deck of the Divine Beast is just disappointment in himself, for being foolish enough to get himself injured, and for leaving what should be the business of the Rito to a Hylian stranger. 

(The genuine worry in Link’s eyes makes him feel a little better, though.)

When Vah Medoh perches directly above the village, there’s a flurry of panic. After a few minutes, as it seems content to simply sit there with its beak pointed toward the castle, the mood turns to conspiracy, which is only elevated when Harth and Mazli fly up to investigate and return with the unconscious bodies of Link and a Rito male that no one in the village recognizes. Teba misses all of it, laying on a small cot and staring dejectedly at the crossed wooden beams of the infirmary ceiling, and by the time Link and the stranger are brought in he has fallen asleep.

He awakens the next morning to see Link curled up on a cot a few feet away from him, clutching the blankets, a hole the size of his hand burned into his shirt on the left side of his stomach and charred flesh underneath. On the other side of the room, a mess of dark blue feathers lies crumpled in a hammock. 

Saki and Harth drift in and out of the room all morning, fussing over the three of them. Link wakes around noon, bringing a hand gingerly to his wound and wincing. Teba sits up and clucks disapprovingly, and Link’s gaze swivels around to him.

“How’s your leg?,” he signs, and Teba huffs.

“Better than your side. What the hell happened in there?”

Link laughs, a breathy little sound. “There was a monster, possessing Medoh. I managed to kill it, but it was a hard fight.”

Teba nods slowly. He finds it hard to believe that this tiny Hylian single-handedly calmed the beast that had shot so many of their finest warriors (including himself, he thinks with a grimace) out of the sky, but according to Saki, it had been completely still for the roughly 16 hours since it landed. And, on some instinctive level, he trusts that Link is telling the truth.

“So who’s this?,” he asks, gesturing at the hammock, and Link looks over. His eyes widen, and he starts to push himself up before falling back onto the cot with a small whimper. A flood of worry rushes through Teba, and before he has time to think about what he’s doing he’s on the floor next to Link, carefully placing a wing on his chest.

“Hey now.” He intends it to be soft, comforting, but it comes out gruff. He tries again. “They’re gonna be okay. Saki and Harth will make sure of that.” Link relaxes a little, and Teba nods approvingly. He stays there, watching carefully, until the silence stretches on for a little too long and he coughs awkwardly and shuffles back to his cot. “...So?”

Link frowns, glancing back over at Teba. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

Teba raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t believe you when you said you could calm Vah Medoh, and yet here we are.” 

“I suppose.” He fiddles with the hem of his tunic, looking uncomfortable. Teba watches with a slowly growing sense of trepidation, wondering what could possibly make him so hesitant to answer such a simple question. Eventually, he spells out a name.

“Revali.” 

“...Revali.”

Link nods.

“As in—”

Link nods. Teba can feel the feathers on the back of his neck rising. “This stranger had the gall to claim to be Master Revali, one of the most celebrated Rito warriors in history, who lived one hundred years ago...and you believed him?!”

“He didn’t claim anything. He was barely conscious enough to land Vah Medoh. I...recognized him.”

Teba just...stares. He recognized him? What the hell does that mean? Link swallows and looks away, and Teba starts guiltily. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Link gives him a thin smile.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just-” He shakes his head. “You recognized him? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Link shrugs. “I could explain that too, and then you’d really think that I’m off the deep end.”

“Try me.”

Link laughs again, louder this time (and Teba’s stupid heart flutters, just a little).

“If you insist,” he responds, and Teba nods. “One hundred years ago...I was the Princess of Hyrule’s appointed knight. I knew all of the Champions, including Revali.” He grimaces. “After we lost, I was...my body was taken to a shrine on the Great Plateau. It healed me, but took away my memories. I’m only just starting to get them back...”

“Link,” Teba says quietly, and he looks over. Teba hesitates for a moment— it feels cruel, somehow, to question what he says, as wildly unbelievable as it is. He forges ahead anyway. “Do you...do you have any proof of this? At all?”

Link gestures helplessly. “I know it sounds insane. Your Elder, he recognized my Sheikah Slate. He believes I’m a descendent of the Hylian champion, which I guess is a lot more believable.”

“I guess.”

They sit in silence. Link looks at the ceiling, then over at the hammock, then back at the ceiling. Teba thinks about his tunic, a shade of blue more vibrant than he thought possible to make fabric in, an unsettlingly similar blue to Vah Medoh’s lasers. And the eye on the back of the strange slate he carries, identical to the eyes of Vah Medoh’s cannons. 

Saki pokes her head in. “Oh, good. You’re awake. And you—” she points at Teba, “you should be lying down.”

“I’m not putting weight on it,” he counters, “and it’s healing quickly. It was a shallow wound.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t push, and he’s grateful for it. Instead, she walks over to the hammock, bending over to carefully examine the unconscious Rito. “I may have to ask Amali to make him another elixir. His external wounds seem to be mostly healed, but his breathing is still shallow.” She turns to Link. “How are you feeling?”

She dresses the wound on Link’s chest and worries over Teba’s leg before leaving, and a few minutes later Harth comes in with two plates of steamed salmon. Link insists that he can feed himself despite not being able to sit up, and it’s not until after he’s dropped three entire bites of salmon on the floor that Teba insists upon helping him. He apologizes profusely, but Teba waves it off. He’d done the same for Harth last week. Link goes back to sleep not long after eating, leaving Teba alone with his thoughts again. He watches for a few minutes, wondering at the strange sense of protectiveness he feels toward this strange Hylian he met only yesterday.

He doesn’t think Link is lying. Even to him, it’s clear as day that he believes every word he’s saying. Which means that either he actually did wake up in a strange shrine on the Great Plateau with his memory gone, or he’s horrifically delusional. Teba knows which one of those answers he prefers.

Then there was the strange tablet— a Sheikah Slate, he’d called it. On his hip, it appeared to be a plain stone slab, elaborately carved and painted but otherwise ordinary. Teba knew, though, that on the side facing inward it was not stone, but a strange, smooth surface that started off dark and lit up when touched. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but Link had mentioned that it let him fast-travel to any of the shrines he’d visited before.

At first, Teba had shrugged it off as some fancy adventurer’s technology, but now that he thought about it, it was...strange. He’d only ever seen two shrines, the one just outside the village and the one near the Flight Range, and they had both essentially just been elaborately carved hunks of rock for as long as he or anyone else could remember. They’d both flared up with mysterious orange light about a month ago, the same day that mysterious tower had risen in the east and Vah Medoh had appeared, circling ominously close to the village. Maybe he should ask Link what he knows about them...

He sighs and turns away, moving back to his cot and collapsing backwards, suddenly aware that he’s tired as well. He should get some more rest, hopefully be able to leave the infirmary by tomorrow and get back to training within the week. He’s not 100% convinced that Vah Medoh won’t start causing problems again, and if it does, he needs to be ready for it, with or without Link’s help.

It’s difficult to fall asleep— he’s not used to sleeping in the same room as other people, it feels weirdly invasive— but after a while of turning the same thoughts over and over in his head until they dissolve into mush, he manages.

He wakes up to dark skies and Saki holding a platter of meat skewers and three elixirs. She hands Teba and Link one each of the former and puts the platter down between them, before moving over to the hammock and carefully pouring the third into the unconscious Rito’s mouth. She briefly examines Teba’s leg as he eats and tells him that he should stay in the infirmary overnight. He nods.

“Thank you for everything,” Link signs as she re-bandages his wound. She nods in acknowledgment.

“Thank you for helping Teba,” she responds, “and our village. We are all very grateful.”

Link flushes, and Teba tries not to think about how cute it is.

He can sit up now, albeit with a bit of a pained expression. It fades as he eats, but he still collapses back into his pillow as soon as he’s done. “You guys have good food,” he signs, and Teba chuckles.

“Amali is a good cook.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Healing well.” He frowns. “You’re in much worse shape than I am, you shouldn’t worry about me.”

Link just shrugs.

“Well, I do,”

he responds, and Teba has nothing to say to that.

___

Fuckin uhhhh yeah

Keep your eyes peeled for the rest of this in like, three months or something IDK