#that being said i am admittedly a little bit nervous about returning now that its been so long

[nabaath-areng]

I was planning to build new desktop this fall, but seeing that the winter half year practically chains me to bed making me incapable of sitting up I took some of my savings to get a laptop so I can have it in bed for drawing, writing etc at least. And so I'll save back up the coming months and build it once spring arrives instead (hopefully component prices has gone down then too)

All that to say I can only eat my hands as I catch glimpses of dawntrail news after having been ffxiv-less since july last year. my abstinence is out the roof

[formulax]

A Few Thoughts on Family -- Simon Nightingale

I have a “worrying” issue.

I've always had this problem. It was much worse when I was younger, and that’s when I started to keep a personal journal. Even if I wasn't completely honest with myself back then, putting my worries onto paper helped. I was writing them into a book that could be closed and put away. And... it helped me to work through my worries, in a way. Process them and organize them when they came to be too much. Thought is hardly ever simple, after all.

I've been Simon Nightingale for a month now— been myself for a month now. This quaint house has proven to be smaller than what I am used to from a home on land, of course, but the crew gave me more money than I can handle in this small town, and anyway, I’m more than happy with the decision I've chosen. It’s quiet and cozy here, and I'm living comfortably compared to life on a pirate ship.

I’m becoming part of the community. I take my walks to the library, to the market, to the Marigold household, and I've been recognized, been waved to. The librarians know me, and smile when I walk in. There is even a black cat I now feed that follows me to and from my home; company that is much appreciated.

I’ve missed this... but it's not quite the same, of course. I do not hold much social standing here, aside from being “a friend of Angel's,” which admittedly has gotten me a long way in gaining my own friends. But... well that's just it. I am a friend! Not a soldier, or a son of a naval officer. The townsfolk here dislike such people, anyhow, and I’m beginning to think I do as well.

With my newfound free time I've cataloged my experiences in the pirate world and written as much as I could about its wonders, and I’ve hit a bit of a block with it. Overwhelming myself with writing, I suppose. So I've been taking a few days to just exist in my new world, and look inwards at myself (which is something I am not accustomed to one bit).

I mention my “worrying” issue because I've been having a bit of trouble sleeping lately. When I think about Angel, Kipp, and Ezra, I start to feel that dreadful fear. They have not visited yet, and I know that they’re quite busy, but when you see someone every day for so long and then suddenly separate, it’s just... difficult. So, I am nervous. Terribly nervous. Afraid that they will never visit, that they will never return because something tragic has happened. I did ask them to send me a letter every time they stopped at a port.

It’s getting late, and I should rest, but I need to get this written down. Last night, as I was trying to sleep, I had a thought that disturbed me. I wondered if this is how my mother felt when I was away.

I did not send her many letters.

I’ve been spending time at the Marigolds’ place in the market, running errands and putting fresh fish on display for some extra money.

They told me a little bit about Angel.

They did not name him; he was left at an orphanage by his alleged parents, who we now know were Vincenzo Cielo and the (former) Guardian Mariah, with a note and the infamous amulet. The note had a vague explanation, a command to keep the baby loved and cared for, and Angel's name. The Marigolds took the child and heeded the note.

“You two’re good parents,” I said. “You care so much. How do you handle him being away? On dangerous quests, no less.”

Mrs. Marigold looked at her husband and smiled. “Our son is much too stubborn to die,” she said. They both chuckled. (They at times can be a little morbid.) “But anyway, he was in good hands with you, and he is now with Ezra and Kipp. You boys have good souls, you do.”

“He writes,” Mr. Marigold added. “When he’s able. He’ll write you. And it will be pages and pages long.”

It is past midnight, judging by the moon. I can’t sleep, and I need to get some things off my chest.

I am guilty. I will always be guilty, for the rest of my life, about leaving my mother behind as she died. I did not want to see her sick... but I did not want to see her sad either. She was often sad and it hurt my heart and I thought that there was nothing I could do to cheer her up. But somewhere deep down I knew that coming home as a Captain would make her even sadder, and that means that somewhere deep down I knew that she wanted me to quit. She was sad because of what I had become. It all seems so obvious now and it makes me so upset that I sometimes need to cry. It was a mistake to be away for so long. It was a mistake not to write her and tell her about the stars in the sky where I was. It was a mistake to disregard her just as everyone else in my family did.

She was SICK and she was SAD and she was ALONE. I feel like I KILLED her. And now I can never tell her I’m sorry, or show her how much I've changed for the better.

The black cat that has been following me around town is meowing at the window. I’m going to let her in and try again to sleep.

It’s the morning— I feel calmer than I did last night. Talking to the Marigolds about Angel got me thinking about my own parents, and... awful things just seem so much worse late at night. My thoughts got out of hand.

I... well. I did not have a tight knit family. My parents did not love each other— at least not while I was around— and my extended family was as cold as my father was. We did not talk about feelings; my parents hardly spoke to each other at all. I had no siblings, and I did not relate much to my younger cousins.

There was my mother and I, of course, but our relationship was often sabotaged, either by my father or by myself. I think he was jealous of her, of my similarities to her, and so grew to resent her. As I sought to impress my father, I began to resent her too, though I was never conscious of it, and never would have admitted it.

We were closer when I was younger. She held her ground on just a few things, one of them being my physical safety, and as a result I did not go on long trips with my father when I was a young child. I spent more time with her, then; she was my teacher, and I loved to hear her talk about her passions. She read me stories, she showed me local wildlife. We watched the stars for hours on end, and she would help me trace constellations with my finger. The world was so big, and we were so small, and she found that so magnificent.

She was the closest thing I had to a family. And I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had done things differently, but in the spirit of improving myself I know I have to own up to my mistakes, and accept them, no matter how terrible they make me feel. Life would have been so different if it had just been her and I— but that was never a possibility, and lingering in the past isn’t ideal, I know.

The thing is, I have a family now— it’s not conventional in the slightest, that’s for certain— but Angel, Kipp, even Ezra... I consider them family. I have been through so much with them, have watched them grow so much as people; and they have helped me grow, as well. They supported me at my worst, and helped me come to the decision to live like I do now. I miss them all, and it’s frightening to think that they’re out there without me, without my extra protection and guidance.

I don’t mean to sound self-centered. They can take care of themselves. It's just a matter of family. I just want to do things better this time.

I was helping the Marigolds at their shop today, and thank the Lord, a letter from Angel arrived! I just about hugged Mrs. Marigold when she handed over the one meant for me... Pages and pages long, like Mr. Marigold said.

Angel says things have been going well, but everyone is missing me. They’re headed off on another mission— Ezra reportedly had another Eye-induced dream— and they’ll head back in my direction after they’ve done that. He says he’s dying to know how I’ve been doing, and I better be missing them just as much. This is, of course, very condensed.

It is such a relief to hear from them, and I haven’t been able to stop re-reading the letter since I got it. It’s midday, and I’m in bed, the black cat sitting at my side. (She lingers in my house more often than outside now, and I don’t mind.)

Angel's last sentence to me was, “Don’t get too lost in your thoughts, Simon Nightingale— your mother would be so happy for you right now.”

I’ve never understood how he always knows exactly what to say.

[unlucky-rubber-ducky]

Found

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

3265 words

Summary/warnings: Not proofread. Sleep deprived writing. Mentions of injury and fighting and sadness and all that jazz. Post-Order 66, baby.

A/n: This one is definitely a ride. If not good, I hope it is at least entertaining. It was entertaining to write. Kinda sad. As always, please let me know if there’s anything I can edit to make the story more inclusive. Thank you for reading!

The annoyance you felt as you trudged out of the marketplace was… unmatched. This was certainly not the deal. You would help Sar’pah clean up the mess he had made, and in return he would get you off of Abafar. Of course, when you had said ‘off of Abafar’, you had meant somewhere with some semblance of civilization; something to blend into. Not another Maker-forsaken desert planet.

You should have known that a ‘pit-stop’ on Tatooine meant kicking the dangerous fugitive offboard, but seeing as how Sar’pah himself was a wanted man, you had hoped he would be a little more forgiving. He had landed in Bestine, asked you to go get a few items from the market, and flew off the moment you stepped off the walkway.

Kriffing fool doesn’t even know what kind of fugitive I am. Your trusting nature may have lost you a ride, but it certainly didn’t extend far enough that you told people why you were on the run. You simply told them that working with you could be dangerous. It was up to them to decide if they wanted to take that risk.

Too many would love the reward a Jedi would bring them. And dammit, if you were going to be brought down by the Empire, it certainly wasn’t going to be for anyone else’s gain. So, here you were, stuck on another desert planet. One ruled by the Hutts, no less. A few too many brushes with them, before and during the Clone Wars, had you very wary to make your presence known to them. So, you figured that at least until you had a ride offplanet, you should try your best to avoid bigger settlements. (Well, as big as settlements on Tatooine could get.)

Which brought you back to the current moment. Republic Credits had never meant much in the Outer Rim, but you had just enough to buy some water and an admittedly sickly looking Eopie. You hadn’t really bothered to check what direction you were setting off on, just picking the horizon that looked the least difficult to navigate with a large animal. It was also in the opposite direction of Mos Eisley, where you were quite sure a few old enemies resided. 

You refused to acknowledge it, but you could feel the Force pulling you west. You were sure many Jedi had taken solace in the Force after all they had lost, but all you felt was… betrayal. You were well aware the Order itself was corrupt, you didn’t deny that- but mass murder? The will of the Force was to kill some of its most loyal followers? You had witnessed its power. You couldn’t deny its existence. But you could deny its benevolence.

So you kept going with the suns in your eyes and told yourself it was logical to go west.

“Hey!” You ignored it. You didn’t know anyone here, surely they were calling for someone else. “Hello? Excuse me?”

You finally turned to see a blue Twi’lek jogging to catch up with your Eopie. Three years of being hunted had your instincts screaming at you to reach for your lightsaber, but the friendly (if panicked) smile on her face put you at ease enough to let her get close enough to explain herself.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Oh you don’t have to be so formal! I’m Sasrula, just Sas if it’s easier, and if you’re willing, I could really really use some help right now.” You stopped your mount entirely, turning so the suns were at your back and the stranger couldn’t see your face. You examined her more closely, which you could tell was making her more nervous. “I just need to get out of here, somewhere a little more sparsely populated, and quickly, or else I wouldn’t be bothering you, but just since I’m pretty light and your Eopie could probably carry both-”

“You were enslaved?”

She looked down at herself, seemingly only now noticing the small bits of fabric she had been given as clothing. Before she could go on another rant, you gestured to the space behind you. 

“Hop on.” Before she could get any closer you help up your hand, stopping her in her tracks. “There’s a cloak and some water in the bag.”

 The animal beneath you protested, already struggling with your weight, but when you calmed it down enough, it began its slow progress. The first minute or so was silent, but Sasrula’s chatty entrance was an omen of the hours to come.

“Whatcha doin’ on Tatooine?”

“Passing through.”

You could sense the doubt that washed over her, and the suspicion that your lie brought onto you.

“Most people ‘passing through’ Tatooine don’t ride off into the desert.”

“I have never killed anyone that wasn’t about to kill me.” It didn’t… soothe her, but the blunt statement seemed to ease her enough into another topic of conversation. 

“...did you have a job before Tatooine?”

“Few years ago.”

“Spouse?”

“No.” It was too late, though. You had stiffened, and due to her close proximity, Sasrula easily picked up that there was more to that story than you were letting on. “He and I were never married.”

“Already have a wife then, did he?” You let out a puff through your nose.

“Something like that.”

There was a time you had resented Obi-Wan for inevitably choosing the Order over you. For leaving your quarters early in the morning, whispering empty promises of love and a happy future. Nowadays you would go to the ends of a universe just for one more moment with him. But you would never get that. Because even if Cody hadn’t been the one to kill him, and he had survived the initial execution, Obi-Wan was too courageous and too selfless and too reckless to have made it three years on the run. 

And if maybe you didn’t want to consider the idea that he hadn’t come looking for you like you had spent the first two years looking for him, you would never admit it to yourself. You weren’t sure you could survive that notion.

“Was he handsome?”

This was the most Sas had seen you emote in the little while you had now been together- she wasn’t letting your mystery man get away that easily.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Rich?” You laughed, and Sas felt just a bit of pride that she had eased you up.

“Hardly! The man never remembered to bring whatever money he did have, and I would constantly have to apologize to Dex-” You stopped yourself. No names. Don’t get familiar. “Dex was the owner of a greasy little diner.”

There was something… pleasant, about pretending that your relationship with Obi-Wan had been a normal one. There was no Jedi Council to answer to, no status to keep safe, nothing. Just you, a few memories, and an escaped Twi’lek full of questions and eager to fill the silence.

“...then, the kriffing bastard, he pushed me into his closet! Like whoever was coming in wasn’t gonna figure out something was amiss!” The giggle coming from behind you was loud, and you were glad to finally be sharing these stories with someone. 

“Oh no I entirely relate, there was a guy who- why’d you stop?”

You all but fell off of the Eopie, stumbling when you landed but quickly steady on your feet. Something felt very wrong, and you were quite sure that something was moving towards you very fast. While your hand first landed on your lightsaber, you made the decision to grab the blaster you had stolen from Sar’pah instead.

A distant cloud of dust, coming from the direction of Bestine, was moving… fast.

“How fast do sandstorms usually move?”

“Well, it depends on the pre-existing weather and geographical conditions, but they can go hundreds of miles an hour, it’s not pleasant-“ she finally turned to look at what was causing you to panic “dank farrik! That is not a dust storm!”

“Well what is it then?!”

“A lot of trouble!”

As you tried to pick out details of the approaching figures, a reflection of light let you know they were on speeders. A brief glance at the struggling eoipe let you know you wouldn’t be riding away from this, and the miles of flat desert around you hardly made for any good hiding spots.

“Are we sure it’s trouble?” You knew it was- another whisper from the Force that you were trying to keep unacknowledged. 

“Yeah. I had hoped he wouldn't notice I was missing till tomorrow.”

Now that’s just… great.

“Who is ‘he’?!”

“My previous captor. He’s, uh, not very forgiving.” Sas moved to get off of the animal, but you stopped her. “Listen, I appreciate your entrepreneurial spirit, but you’re not gonna get any money from him for my return, he’s just gonna kill you.”

“I’m not trying to get any money, you’re not going back.” The Twi’lek’s surprise was almost palpable. “At least, not while I’m standing.”

The cause of the dust cloud had gotten close enough that you could see four speeders drawing near. Three had large, intimidating riders, and the front one, the fanciest one, had a severe looking older man.

They slowed when they drew close enough, and the cold look in the man’s eyes told you everything you needed to know about him.

“I believe you’ve made off with something of mine.”

“You’ll have to enlighten me, sir.”

He paused for a moment, taking your protective stance and hood-covered face in.

“I’m not so sure I do, partner.”

“I haven’t stolen anything since I landed on your dustball of a planet.”

He snorted, still looking down on you from his position on his speeder.

“That,” he pointed at Sasrula, “is mine.”

“She is traveling with me. Has been for a while.”

“You can’t fool me, traveler. I know my own property. Don’t try to lie.”

You held your hands up in mock defeat.

“Hey, I never said exactly how long she had been with me. No lies have been told.”

“How long is this gonna go?”

“Till you either let us go, or are crushed under my boot.”

“Now, we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

In an instant you dropped to the ground, dodging blaster fire from four different directions. Even in the heat of the moment you were wary to reveal your past, so you pulled out your own blaster, desperately trying to get back on your feet whilst dodging dozens of blasts every moment. Once you finally had the chance to stand, you were able to get two of the larger men down.

It was a stressful situation, and once again you hated to admit it, but fighting felt… good. Not the chaos or death or injury of it, but the feeling of letting the Force guide your movements, feeling it flow around you and tell your limbs where to go.

Unfortunately, the method didn’t work when you were surprised out of your focus. And a cloaked figure coming out of seemingly nowhere and kicking the leader off of his speeder was enough to startle you.

You cursed as pain shot from your right shoulder, and it took everything in you not to drop to the ground. You shot the last of the body guards, and aimed at Sas’s captor, who laid in the cloaked man’s shadow. You paused when you felt a hand on your arm. You looked up to see Sasrula, who was looking at you with an unspoken request in her eyes.

You handed her the blaster and let her take the shot. You understood the desire.

Once he was dead on the ground, you turned towards the other presence, who had taken to watching your interaction with Sas. You couldn’t see his face under the hood of his cloak, and some part of you felt better knowing your face was likely just as concealed as his. 

“Thank you for the help!” Sasrula’s bright voice poked through the suspicious silence.

“It was no trouble at all.”

Your blood froze. You were almost certain you knew that voice.

“Take down your hood.”

“Excuse me? I-“

“Please just do it.”

You could see his shoulders stiffen, and you knew he recognized your voice. He lowered his hood. 

His eyes were the first thing you noticed. They were sad. The saddest they had ever been. And so tired. But there was a burning hope, a burning question, that you knew you needed to answer for him.

So you copied him, and dropped your hood.

“Hey, Obi.”

That was all it took for you both to take off in a sprint, clearing the few meters between you in less than seconds. You jumped and landed in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You buried your face in his neck, sobbing as you tried to get as close to him as you possibly could. He let out a disbelieving laugh, and you pulled back to get another look at his face. You placed your hands on his cheeks, brushing the stray tears that had fallen from his eyes.

“I thought you were dead, Obi.”

“I thought you were dead, little one.”

There was a part of you that expected him to push you away when you leaned in to kiss him. A part of you that still felt it needed to hide your relationship. 

Instead, you kissed him and all of your grief and anger and sadness and deep adoration and love were on display for him, and his for you.

You finally pulled back and stepped back down on the ground when someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“I’m assuming this is the handsome man from before?”

You blushed and looked at Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, it is.” You reluctantly pulled out of Obi-Wan’s arms, taking a step back to look him over for injuries. “How long have you been here? How did you survive all of the slaughter? I heard you had killed Grievous but then there was so much chaos, and I made my way to Utapau just to be sure you weren’t there and-”

“You went to Utapau?! Darling, that was foolhardy and-” 

You took another step back.

“And?”

“And dangerous! I can only imagine that place is crawling with Imperials!”

“What was I supposed to do, Obi? Yours was the only face I cared to see, so I figured I’d start from the beginning.” Conflicting and powerful emotions caused more tears to fall from your eyes despite your best efforts. “What was I supposed to do?” It came out as a whisper, and you hated how broken you sounded. Suddenly you felt very tired, and the previously forgotten blaster wound on your shoulder was beginning to burn with pain.

“I had hoped that you would let me go.”

“Could you have?”

“What?”

“Could you have let me go?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer immediately, and you had your answer. Suddenly all of the heartbreak and quiet crying in your quarters at the temple were worth it. The three years of not knowing if you were searching for a ghost, the sneaking suspicion that he hadn’t done the same for you.

Worth it.

“Can I stay with you?” You sounded like a child and you hated it, but now that you had him you weren’t sure you could let him go.

His continued silence turned your heart to ice. Perhaps he hadn’t looked for you because he was tired of you. Perhaps you misread the situation. Perhaps he could have let you go. 

“Have you had any run-ins with the Empire?”

“Nothing beyond what any other Jedi has encountered.” You heard Sasrula gasp, and you felt just a little bad that you had entirely forgotten she was there. “I’m sneaky, Kenobi. Surely you remember that.” The curious turn of conversation had you feeling just a little more stable. He did not, however, smile.

“I’m staying here. On Tatooine. For a long time.”

“You’re saying I can stay?”

“It’s not like I can kick you off the planet.”

The rush of relief was sudden, and altogether too much for you. That, combined with the rather serious wound you had yet to take care of; the exhaustion of the past few hours; and the hot sun, it’s really no surprise that you passed out.

“Oh dear.”

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

When you woke, you felt blessedly cooler. The bandage around your shoulder was soft, and the blankets you were wrapped in smelled like the desert and Obi-Wan, which calmed your initial alarm at waking in a foreign place. There were no windows in whatever room you were in, but the general darkness around you suggested it was nighttime. There was a doorway with just a curtain across it, from which you could hear quiet murmurs. Your sleep muddled brain told you to lay back down and close your eyes for just a little longer, but you were too curious to sleep any longer.

When you stood you realized you weren’t in your own shirt. It was much larger than your own, and a slightly different color. You were, however, still in your own pants. Which was very appreciated. You took a few steps before stumbling, still rather weak from the past few hours.

You weren’t noticed when you first stepped into (what you could only assume to be) the main room of Obi-wan’s home. Said man was currently bickering with Sasrula over how to prepare dinner, and if they should wake you up to eat. You were glad to see that the Twi’lek hadn’t run off, and you were even gladder to see Obi-Wan in a lighter mood.

You finally caught his eye when you moved further into the room, and he quickly moved to your side in order to help you to a make-shift dining room chair, kneeling in front of you. You sheepishly smiled at your two companions, who both returned your look with concern.

“I see you two have become pals.”

“I see why you spent three years without him. Your man is insufferable.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and you both tried to pretend like Sasrula calling him ‘your man’ didn’t affect you.

“You gave us a bit of a fright, my darling. I hadn’t even realized you had been hit.” He kissed you on the forehead. “I do hope you don’t mind that I took your shirt off in order to treat your wound.”

You shrugged.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

If he wasn’t red from Sasrula’s earlier comment, he certainly was now.

The Twi’lek snorted and made her way to the kitchenette on the other side of the small space, taking her chance to prepare dinner her way.

“How long did I sleep for?”

“About two days. You left me alone with a stranger for two days.”

“That explains why you’re so chummy with Sas.”

He grimaced.

“Yes. I… don’t know that I’ve ever met such a talkative woman.”

“Giving Ahsoka a run for her money, hm?”

“Don’t remind me.”

You chuckled, and felt a warmth in your heart that you hadn’t felt since you and Obi-Wan were both Padawan’s and had the galaxy ahead of you. Except… this was different. You weren’t sure you could call it better. There was too much bloodshed and trauma for it to be better. But it was undoubtedly freer. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable to say that I love you?”

Obi-Wan smiled softly.

“Never.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I love you deeply, little one.”

[danger-xylophones]

A New Chapter (Echo x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: It’s implied that the reader has depression, some angst sprinkled in

.....................................

When Rex commed you to come to Anaxes on the next medical transport - you’d expected the worst. You were trying to prepare yourself to hear more bad news. You’d expected to be told that Rex had lost another one of his closest brothers and one of your dearest friends. You’d already lost so many...Echo, Hardcase, Tup, Fives..Echo’s death destroyed you first and left room for every following death to slowly chip away at your resolve. You feared that hearing you’d lost Kix, Jesse, or Cody might just do you in before you could begin to be there for Rex.

So, you frantically scrambled to steel yourself before the transport landed - keeping a death grip on the handle by your head to keep your self grounded. You knew that your fellow medics, clone and nat-born alike, were silently questioning you. As the head nurse you were expected to be composed, cool-headed, great under pressure, and a genuine calming presence. For you to be nervous enough for it to be reflected in your shifting stance and death grip was disconcerting. 

As the transport initiated its landing sequence you took in one long steadying breath and braced yourself for whatever news awaited you beyond the doors. They opened with a hiss and your fellow medics immediately sprung into action unloading supplies and gurneys while you waded through the sea of activity in search of a certain captain. He was waiting for you by the entrance to the barracks. With his helmet on, it was harder to discern what he was feeling but for the most part he stood tall and proud in a perfect soldier stance with his hands clasped behind his back. He was busily conversing with someone you couldn’t see. You were confused now - you’d seen Rex after a heavy loss. His shoulders always sagged, his whole form took on a heaviness to it that was only ever abated with time and the comfort of some good wine you’d often smuggle in for him. He was never this...normal. Rounding a few stacked crates revealed to you that the person Rex was talking to was actually three people consisting of Jesse (thank the maker) and two clones you barely recognized as clones. 

After a loud clearing of your throat you called out to him. Rex turned to you and removed his helmet in one fluid motion and you were surprised to see him beaming at you. “Vod’ika!” He chirped and started walking towards you with Jesse in tow whilst ignoring the intrigued looks of the other two clones - one had really long hair and a headband wrapped around his crown and the other, significantly shorter, peered at you with large eyes hidden behind a pair of blocky glasses. You met Rex in the middle and he quickly pulled you into a one armed hug that you barely returned thanks to being caught so off guard. “Glad you’re here.” He muttered next to your ear before retreating so Jesse could also pull you into a quick hug. 

“I’d say I’m glad to be here,” you began as you pulled away from the arc trooper, “but I don’t know why I am.” You finished with a pointed look at Rex that told him to start explaining. 

His smile fell a bit, though it didn’t completely disappear, “It’s...a long story and it’s better to just show you. C’mon.” He swung his arm for you to follow him, already walking towards the barracks. You hesitated, casting a confused look at Jesse who just offered you an impish grin in reply before strutting after the captain. With a steadying sigh you followed after the two kama wearing clones. 

You passed many troopers as the captain and arc trooper led you further inside the barracks, most from the 501st, some from the 212th, a lot from the 187th, and at least two who you couldn’t identify as being from any legion but they were wearing the same armor as the other two who had been talking to Rex and Jesse when you arrived. The taller of the two (the much taller of the two - was he even a clone? Or was he a Natborn that vaguely resembled the millions of brothers?) watched you walk away with his one functioning eye and a poorly hidden whisper to his friend. “’Think that’s the gal he’s been askin’ about?” 

“Looks like ‘er.” The smaller of the duo answered in a grating voice. 

Your brow furrowed - a lot of clones tended to ask about you given your tendency to move between legions and battalions but it was rare that they talked about you to the extent that someone who’d never met you could recognize you. If you were honest, it was a little unnerving. But, despite your best effort to keep the thoughts at bay, you were briefly reminded of a conversation you’d once had with Fives. 

“He talks abou’ you a lot, y’know.” The newly promoted arc trooper slurred as he heavily leaned against you. He vaguely gestured in the direction of his aforementioned brother where he leaned against the bar, armor glinting in the low lighting, after he timidly offered to get you a new drink. You’d protested, telling him it was his big night, you’d get the drinks but he took off before you could even get to your feet. “Just too shy to do anything but that.” 

“What does he say?” You asked the drunken trooper quietly as your pulse began to speed up. You, admittedly, hadn’t taken much interest in Echo at first - you thought him boring and stiff - but recently he’d been challenging your perception of him. And you’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t started to admire the capable, quick-witted, snippy, but kind, sensitive, and charming soldier. 

“Says ‘e likes you, wish he could work up the nerve to talk to you, thinks you’re the prettiest damn medic in the GAR, thinks you’re a kriffin’ genius...and, ‘m pretty sure he’s in love with you.” Fives took another hearty swig of his drink, shutting up for the first time in what seemed like hours, which gave you enough time to consider his words. While you didn’t want to put all your faith in the drunken mess of an explanation Fives had given you - he did know his twin the best and he’d never lied to you. Maybe - you took another good long look at Echo - just maybe, - you saw him take a deep breath as the bartender handed him your drinks, almost like he was trying to psych himself up - you’d take a chance. You met Echo’s gaze as he turned around, sending him a fond smile that he sheepishly returned. 

Rex led you to a separated part of the med bay primarily meant for rehabilitation where he finally came to a halt just before the door. “Now,” he began as he turned to you, Jesse stopped at your side with crossed arms and a strange, conspiring smile on his face, “I want you to walk between Jesse and I.” Rex ordered quietly as if scared of being overheard. 

Your brow furrowed immediately. “Why?” 

“In case ya faint.” Jesse answered back. 

With a roll of your eyes that could rival the likes of Wolffe’s, you turned to the ARC trooper. “Jesse, I’m a field medic whose spent most of her career on the front lines dealing with a menagerie of injuries. I’m sure whatever it is, I can handle it.” 

“Be prepared to eat those words.” Jesse muttered under his breath in retort but you elected not to respond, instead, you turned your attention back to Rex who was staring at you uncertainly. 

“All the same, let me go in first and make sure he’s ready.” Rex offered gently with a softly placed hand on your shoulder. He had an odd look in his eyes - somewhere between apprehensive, compassionate, and elated - as he looked at you. 

“You’re the captain...” You muttered, suddenly feeling on edge. Jesse must have noticed your tense form for he softly grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Rex nodded to Jesse then to you before strolling in to the room. The door slid into place behind him leaving you and Jesse for a few minutes. The ARC trooper didn’t let go of your hand till Rex came back and gestured with a nod of his head for the two of you to come in. Rex went back in first, followed by Jesse, with you taking up the rear. The air was strangely tense as you followed behind the two clone troopers so you couldn’t stop your mind from preparing itself to see the worst. While not uncommon for you to visit patients in the middle of rehabilitation it wasn’t why you were part of the GAR. It was just something you’d started doing after serving with the clone forces for so long. But never before had you been nervous. Without warning, Jesse stopped right in front of you causing you to bump into his back. Instead of laughing at you like you thought he would, Jesse angled his body enough for you step in front of him and gently encouraged you to do so with a hand between your shoulder blades. 

You came to a halt in front of him and the ARC trooper kept his hand where it was as if trying to steady you. Seriously, why were they being so weird? You still couldn’t see very far into the room - only the equipment shoved against the walls closest to the door - thanks to Rex who stood in front of you. There was no talking. Rex dipped his head at whoever was in the room and stepped to the side. 

Before you was a trooper dressed in red fatigues. His frame was thin, cheeks sunken in, and his skin unnaturally pale. And he was missing an arm which had been replaced with a computer interface arm one would expect to see on an R-series. His head had also been shaved which revealed small, port like protrusions out of his skull. And upon glancing your eyes downward, you noticed that the trooper’s legs had been replaced with mechanical ones. Not to be flippant but he looked like he’d been through hell and back. 

With a deep breath, you let a mollifying smile slip onto your lips and a sympathetic look fill your eyes. “Hello,” you kept your voice soft too, just in case the trooper was nervous, “My name is Dr. L/n. What’s yours?” 

His brow furrowed and it was only now, after his expression had changed, that you noticed that it had once been almost hopeful. Now, he looked confused. Or more accurately, conflicted. His pale brown eyes were frantically darting back and forth as if searching your face for an answer to a question that was left unasked. “I-it’s me.” He finally spoke in a frail voice. You cocked your head to the side. That was adimttedly an odd name but who were you to judge? Just as you were opening your mouth to speak, he continued. “Cyare, it’s me.” Your mouth clamped shut as the first word slipped from him as the instinct to snap briefly took over. Only one person got to call you that. 

“Trooper, forgive my bluntness but-” 

“Meshurok.” Hearing that word made it feel as though ice had been injected into your body. Shivers ran up and down your spine and goose bumps formed all over. No one had called you that since...Echo. 

“How...?” You felt your body start to fall back only to be stopped by a hand between your shoulder blades. Jesse was still there and Rex was standing just off to the side. They were both real. But was he...?

“When I first worked up the nerve to ask you out, you were wearing a necklace with a kyanite pendant. I asked you where you’d gotten it and what it was.” The trooper took a careful step forward and you felt your heart begin to speed. “You told me it was gifted to you by a young Twi’lek girl you helped when you were on Ryloth with the 187th.” He took another step. “She’d gifted it to you and told you that it was it represented new beginnings.” You took a step forward, eyes wide. “I asked if I could be a part of your new beginnings.” You took another step forward. 

“And I said ‘only if I get to be a part of yours’.” Your voice was wispy, choked with old ghosts. “Echo...” Before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms. “Echo.” You didn’t care that your voice trembled with barely restrained sobs or that Jesse and Rex were barely three feet away. All you cared about was how familiar he felt - familiar and safe. Home, your mind supplied. “I-I, but the citadel and the ship - I...you...oh god.” You pulled back, almost giving yourself whiplash in the process as your instincts took over. Your hands reached up to gently hold the sides of his face while you reevaluated his appearance. “How did you survive the ship?” Your fingers were busily skimming all the alterations that had most likely been forced onto your cyar’ika. You noticed that his eyelids fluttered closed at the sensation of your fingers on his skin and it made your heart squeeze in both affection and the need to protect him. 

“I don’t really know, mesh’la. I just remember trying to take the ship, it exploding, and then waking up being dragged.” Echo whispered, keeping his hand stubbornly fixed on your waist. Behind you there was the sound of the door sliding closed which you guessed was Rex and Jesse making their exit. 

“Kriffing droids, how dare they touch you,” At some point in your speedy assessment you started to mutter, “I should go there and tear each one to scraps with my bare hands.” 

Echo chuckled and it was enough to bring tears to your eyes, your hand paused just above the computer interface arm. “Who did this to you?” Although it was whispered, Echo heard you clear as day. 

He sighed and gently rested his head against yours, “Seps, techno union - they don’t matter.” 

“They hurt you - I’m going to find them and kill them myself.” 

“I thought your whole thing was ‘do no harm’.” Echo quipped and the smile that followed, though no where near as wide as you were used to, was warm and genuine and enough to pacify you for now. 

“I can make exceptions.” You muttered but the fire had died down. Another puff of air brushed against your face - another reminder that Echo really was here. 

“Later then.” He pressed his lips against your forehead and drew you closer. You sighed and melted against him, the happiest you’d been in a long time as the first few words of another new chapter formed before your very eyes. 

Taglist: @apocalypticwafflekitten / @cherryxcyarika / @pinkiemme / @justalittlecloud 

[hes-writer]

Just A Litle Bit of Your Heart (5)

Summary: y/n must make a decision

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 3211 words

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

A/N: apologies for taking over a year to finish this series! thanks for being patient. as usual, let me know what you thought.

The inspiration behind this part is credited to Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami. More specifically, Naoko’s first letter. Some lines were used as is and others were paraphrased. The description of when Watanabe and Naoko had sex are also collaborated along this piece.

I’m really nervous about this.

____

Harry’s words echoed in Y/N’s head; she has never felt such conflicting emotions coursing through her body. Her heart twinged with the need to press her body closer to him because she loves him so dearly. A surge of logical capacities told her to extract herself from the situation--the toxic relationship that they built up to, on the other hand. Did she want to stay with him? Or did she want to leave? Harry was giving her the chance to call it quits right at this moment, to run away from him and start a blossoming relationship with someone else, instead of sticking around and be strung along as he picked up various women on the way to nowhere.

Nowhere.

This would lead to nowhere if she continued to act the way she did. It would be quite tragic to let their relationship strain, only to crash and burn because they didn’t know when to stop. Either she had to change to be more understanding and indifferent or he had to abandon his bachelor ways and return home to her. She didn’t know if both of them could cocoon themselves in a box that they’ve left long before.

That version of Y/N was long gone and she did not know what to make of it; if it was Harry to be condemned for taking advantage of the kindness of her heart, or was it her own fear of being left alone that lead her to being alone? 

Y/N blinked sluggishly at him, lashes casting a shadow on her cheeks as she shifted her gaze away from his curious ones. She was hurting but she didn’t want to hurt him. Somewhere inside her heart knew that that love she held for Harry was too much--and too much love can kill you. 

She didn’t know what to expect from it and Y/N thinks she might be experiencing it now. The subtleness of losing herself to the void, pieces of her that can never be brought back, that will never make another appearance because those were only brought up when he was still the Harry she fell in love with and they were still them. Withering away like a dried flower that hit its peak, the grace and standards Y/N held for herself, the things that made her the woman Harry fell for washed away in the midst of the chaos. 

“I-I don’t know,” 

Harry took a breath through his nose, nipping at his bottom lip, not knowing whether to release a breath of relief because she didn’t break it off or tense tenfold because the option of leaving him was still on the table. 

“We can work it out. We can go to couples therapy, we can do something!” He insisted, frantically spewing out words he thought would alleviate his situation. 

She stared at him, scrutinizing his loveable face, wondering if he knew the extent of what he was asking for. Admittedly, Y/N had her faults throughout. However, she wouldn’t say she was the biggest problem of what had occurred. Sure, it was her idea that got them in this mess in the first place, but it’s not like she wanted it to be this way.  

Harry spoke words to her but it never reached her ears. Frankly, it gave her a headache.

“Am I the problem here?” 

He paused his monologue, hand sifting through his curls. His body was burning in agony, wanting this conversation to be over so he could prove to her that his words were merely a representation of his actions. 

“I can change,”

Harry’s confession fluttered Y/N’s heart-- to hear that he was willing to make this work so as far as to quit his usual habits shafted a glimmer of hope in her heart. He could charge forward right now, even as his heart writhed, slowly sinking in a swamp of near loneliness.  Harry made a courageous gesture to hold her dainty hands in his own, looking deep in her eyes to see a reflection of him pleading for another chance. For a moment, his heart faltered, realizing that all this time she longed for him, and only him. 

She shook her head quickly. There were multiple times when she would reach out with her fingertips to try and touch the light slithering towards her; a symbol of wishes, desires, and expectations.

She always came back empty-handed. 

“My hands weren’t the ones that you wanted to hold. You weren’t searching for my warmth late at night when you were cold. You rather be in bed with someone else,” Y/N stated, strongly at first, then quickly wavering as her emotions led her to think to a place she rarely went to voluntarily. 

His mind flashed back to the countless events where he witnessed her sleeping body draped over the couch living room, waiting for him in the late hours of the night in hopes of sharing a civil conversation with him. Harry could recall himself huffing in annoyance, having to grab a blanket from the storage closet to cloak on her. At that point, he didn’t know if it was decency that made him act that way or if there were lurking feelings hidden in his hard exterior. 

“I feel like such a fool. I feel so guilty of being me because you would distance yourself rather than talking to me about it!”

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” His palms grasped the retaining warmth her hands left, having long since slipped from his hold to fist at her thighs in exaggerated murmurs. They sat on the sofa a few feet apart, an invisible string connecting them to each other. 

“Waiting for you to call me because you needed me, because you missed me, because you wanted to hear my voice is one of the most painful things I have ever had to go through. At least let me know if you still wanted me around.”

“But I do want you around!” He retorted, almost offended that she said those words to him. Her head looked down at the carpet beneath her feet, silently mulling over the words she was to say next. “I still love you,”

Their cries turned into whispers as Y/N smiled sadly, peeking at him with silky eyes as tears threatened to escape her waterline. She shuffled closer, seeing his Adam’s apple bob in his throat in a difficult swallow. Her soft hands brushed the stray curls falling near his face, her thumb caressing his quivering cheekbones as Harry tensed and untensed his jaw nervously. Y/N tilted her head to the side, admiring his features with the most longing and loving eyes he had ever seen. His eyes burned through, she could tell that the curiosity was killing him. 

The moment she made direct eye contact with him-- he felt a surge of warmth overtake his body, butterflies flying all over his tummy and his heart thumped a little faster. She felt like home to him. 

“There was a time when I looked into your eyes and felt so happy,” Her breath hit the tip of his nose, the closeness intimidating him but it didn’t seem to affect her any longer. 

His brows furrowed, “What do you feel now?” 

She gave him a gentle smile, coldness slowly crawling up his spine.

“Sadness. Disappointment.”

A lone tear slipped down his cheek, the pad of her thumb flushing it away, making his skin glisten with the salty liquid. His eyes searched for a sense of reassurance aside from the deteriorating words she used to describe what it felt like to be with him. The desperation he held deepened, his eyes fluttering close in a stuttered breath. His eyelashes dampened with more tears, making it wet and uncomfortable.

“I thought we were gonna make it,”

Harry's throat tightened up, his esophagus constricting with a certain tightness that reverberated to his stomach which was swirling in coils of springing uncertainty and doubt. Truth is, the action of sleeping with other women never really satisfied him. There was still a hole in his heart aching to be filled, to feel complete was something never came easy to anyone, really. 

“We can still make it,”

“Can we?” Y/N’s voice wavered as she blinked her eyes closed, a tear gently sloping down the curve of her cheek. Her lip was sore from being bitten by her teeth, a gnawing action that occurred from the inside to the outside. Harry’s chin quivered, a sob preparing to rip through the confines of his mouth. A strained cry, raw from the base of his throat and embedded deep within his chest. 

------

Harry remembers the mornings after he willingly gave his body to someone else aside from Y/N: the sunlight stabbing straight through his closed eyelids, the dream-like haze bottling his thoughts and feelings in an enchantment that chanted ‘everything was going to be fine’, everything was going to be the same when he came home. Y/N would always be there with her arms wide open in a gesture for a much-needed hug. His head would pound as if it belonged to someone else because his thinking was muzzled to bits and pieces, barely knowing who he was anymore. 

There was absolutely nothing to be gained from sleeping with one woman after another. Aside, from quelling the spurt of arousal taking over his body, the longevity of the action did nothing in the long run. It tired Harry out and made him disgusted with himself more times than he can count. Those women questioned his every touch, instructing him to touch them this way, to kiss them softer, to stop thinking and start feeling the caressing touches of skin-on-skin contact. The excitement of a stranger exploring his body while he retaliated the same conduct was once an idea that had Harry ready to bolt out of Y/N’s arms in a second. 

He wished he could turn back time. Y/N never made demands; all she wanted was his attention, his affection, hugs and kisses and her body swarmed with endless grazes, tracing the stretches of skin that gleamed in the early hours of the morning. His fingertips pressured the imperfections of her body, hair tickling the calves of her legs as the sheets whispered a barrier between their bodies. His chest attached to her back, his lips pressing pecks along the valley of her shoulder, the base of her neck, nuzzling his nose at the nape where her scent was the strongest. 

Harry missed when they explored each others’ bodies in the darkness. There was nothing to be said, no words needed to be spoken between the two of them when their mouths attached to each other in a dazed spell, alluring both of them to give everything they had to the person that meant everything to them. Harry was ashamed to admit that at one point, Y/N ceased to be the one that meant everything to him. For a moment, she was a silver trophy, forgotten and left collecting dust on the shelf. The second best. The back-up. 

Her cry was the saddest sound of orgasm that he had ever heard and it slit his heart with thin slices knowing that although he was the reason for the pleasure coursing through her body, the pain was still floating like a soapy bubble encompassing her entire being, leaving her trapped to subdue herself with artificial happiness until Harry returned home to her. And it went on, the desperation fuming the atmosphere, Y/N’s hesitant hands trembling against the expanse of his stomach as if she didn’t know his body anymore. Her lips working against his as if inexperience littered the skin of her mouth because he changed too much and she didn’t know how he moved anymore. He was an unfamiliar person but her body reached out to him continuously. It went on until Y/N couldn't physically bring herself closer to his without recoiling a few steps back to avoid the stench of the sweet perfume wafting from his clothes, without her stomach gurgling with disgust at the thought of where his hands had been; Couldn’t help but wonder where his heart is now. 

And Harry went on with the robotic schedule to routinely fuck her because he had to. Not because he craved the way she tasted or missed the way she folded herself for him, but because that was what couples did, right? They made time for each other, became intimate and made love while reassuring whispers were exchanged between them. That was the case until he stopped listening. Her wails punctured the hollow in his chest and he couldn’t bear it anymore. He stopped trying, he paused his efforts. He was only doing the bare minimum and without that-- they had nothing. 

Harry didn’t want to but it was all he could do. His body was hungering for other people to fill the void, the lost love that vanished in a moment. Still, Harry thought about Y/N. Her silhouette against the blinding rays of sun catapulting past the curtain in the early morning, her naked body outlined by the moon in the darkness. The soft curve of her lashes tickling the patch of hair on his chin when Y/N looked up at him with so much love and adoration. The sound of the rain pattering on the rooftop, racing past the window and forming a puddle at the ground.

His heart melted with the knowledge of receiving a type of love that rarely ever occurred. A love that sheathed itself with blue cotton candy, clouds of sugary sweetness drifting up to his tilted nose. The softness of the treat skimming his skin like light footsteps, doing everything in its power to leave his heart beating calmly. Until water appeared and saturated their love, disappearing into nothing in a blink of an eye. 

___

There was a lot that Y/N didn’t understand, a lot that she didn’t know. There were so many things that drifted in her mind, incoherent thoughts and incomplete ideas scattered along with her brain. It would take time to organize a million things in an orderly manner. And by then, she didn’t know if it would be too late. Harry hurt her but Y/N was not innocent. They hurt each other in order to fix something that wasn’t profoundly broken; just dented and needing a little tender loving care.

She wanted to dismantle his heart. Tear it. Crush it to bits until it sprinkled heartbreak over their shared bed. Until then, Y/N could finally breathe again. But she couldn’t get herself to do it; she loved him too much to hurt Harry intentionally.

What hell am I doing?

Y/N repeated the question over and over until it became a part of her. Previously, she wouldn’t have thought of doubting her actions. The confidence she carried herself with glazed the mountains of doubts blocking her path. Not once did she regret a decision she made because Y/N knew that she would learn from it one way or another. 

The time she spent being with Harry was one of the most joyous moments of her life. Images of grandeur slipping past her lids to remember the laughter echoing between the two of them, the smiles being larger than life like two twin sunflowers dancing against the gentle breeze of the field. 

With Harry, Y/N experienced heartbreaking pain and suffocating sadness. Tall, ocean waves submerging her in the twilight zone leaving her with no choice but to kick her feet up and try to escape but salty liquid drowned her all around. It felt like there was no escape until she accepted the reality and simply just floated. The buoyancy of her body guided her to a ray of golden light and she tried hard to ignore it because the pain and sorrow were something that she had gotten used to. 

Without vulnerability, they had nothing. It was the base for connection. The part where fear and shame dissolved into thin air because acceptance was what everybody craved for.

With Harry, she let herself be seen. She was vulnerable and honest and skinned to the bone with secrets that she shared with him. Her heart was whole with the amount of love she gave and the abundance she received. She loved him until the end even when there were no more signs of reassurance that the feelings were mutual. She believed that she was enough until he decided that she wasn’t anymore and found someone else, taking her heart with him and crushing it in a fist. 

With Harry, she practiced gratitude and leaned into joy, never having a dull moment in fear of good things ending because they do. Everything has an end; even the bad things. 

With Harry, she learned to scream and voice out her thoughts, never leaving a stone unturned so that honesty was always in transparency. 

With Harry, she stopped screaming and started listening. To him and his obvious need for distance. To him and his silent pleads to leave him alone. To him and his evaporating love, reeking into the air with bittersweet goodbyes. 

Furthermore, she started listening to herself.

What did she want? 

What did she deserve?

___

Her query was answered only a week later when she spoke to him again. Harry’s eyes were filled with the same unbearable sadness that she used to feel whenever Y/N stared at her reflection in the mirror

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders in a loose answer, smiling the slightest bit as the air started engulfing her lungs a little easier. “Maybe”

Harry shook his head in denial, curls sticking to his temples and damp cheeks while some strands followed suit with the direction of his head shaking, muttering soft ‘no’s’ in repeated action as if it would help him contain her from slipping past the opened door. But his hands were buttery and his fingertips were burned raw.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you. I’m just not ready,” Y/N answered in a rehearsed manner, having spent the previous days deciphering what she truly wanted to say. If there was anything that she would take from Harry, it would be the value of honesty. “The moment I do, I’ll reach out to you. Give you an update,”

Harry stood unmoving, feet planted on the entryway. He could do nothing but listen to her silky voice comforting the turmoil boiling in his belly and the missiles launching in his head. “P-please,”

“Maybe we can get to know each other better,”

Was that where their love failed? Was it because they didn’t truly know each other so well that their unknown differences slowly crept up on their seemingly perfect relationship? 

As perfect as it gets, Y/N savoured the times when it was just them against the world; she never would have thought that her closest ally would betray her. She never would have thought that her own self would walk away when she promised him that she would stick it through.

‘Make it through the end’, whenever that is. 

_____

whew.

_____

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[yakultberry]

kfc (kisses for christmas) ; c.sc

✪ summary: You’re unexpectedly single on Christmas Day, but you don’t want to spend it alone. At least you can count on the cute delivery boy to bring you fried chicken. ✪ pairing: chicken delivery boy!seungcheol x reader ✪ genre: fluffy fluff ✪ word count: 2.1k words  ✪ tags: @yutacrush​ thank you for beta reading for me i would like to marry you

✪ a/n: helllo binu here!! i am very excited to be posting my first fic on yakultberry c: this fic is actually part of @merakiiverse​‘s job au collaboration (will link after posting). i really have a lot of respect for everyone who writes straight up fluff, because ooooof did i struggle way more than i expected while writing this lmao hopefully it turned out okay and y’all can enjoy! <33 

[chicky delivery boy]: your order is 5 minutes away! 

At the arrival of the text, you scrambled out of your position on the couch and quickly began to clear away the dirty dishes on your coffee table and the used tissues that had accumulated over the course of the day. You weren’t quite sure what ghost of Christmas past possessed you to continue your annual tradition of binging cheesy holiday movies all day, but you supposed it was because you were at a loss for what to do at all. You had spent the last two Christmases with that asshole. It wasn’t like you could call up your friends to hang out with you today; no, they were lucky enough to have nice boyfriends who didn’t break up with them two months before the holidays. And you definitely weren’t going to go out on the town by yourself, only to be forced to watch all the happy couples cuddle close to each other in the cold. 

So here you were, alone in your apartment, waiting on your fried chicken to be delivered.

It seemed to be the one constant in your life amongst the aftermath of your chaotic break up. Whenever you made an order, it would arrive at your doorstep within thirty minutes, always warm and always comforting. Although you wouldn’t quite say that Joy’s Chicken was the best chicken restaurant in the area (the family-owned joint two blocks over was definitely much tastier), it still managed to become your go-to after the delivery person from the family restaurant got lost on their way to your apartment for the third time. That, and once your order had arrived on your doorstep, brought to you by a dimpled, dark-haired delivery boy, you quickly decided that the restaurant had its own charms.

“Coming!” you called out to the gentle knock at the front door, skipping across your living room to reach it. After checking your reflection in the mirror hanging in the hallway, you swung the door open, smiling brightly. “Finally, I’m starving-- what happened to you?” 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” the boy said with a chuckle, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped tightly around his face. You reached over to pull down the scarf to reveal that he was smiling back at you, though you did note that his lips were pale and his teeth were chattering. The thick, puffy coat he wore could only do so much when he was covered with a snow from head to toe. You watched as some of it crumbled off of his shoulders when he shuffled to take your food out of an insulator. Today, the box had a cute little bow stuck to the top of it.  “Merry Christmas! This is for you.” 

You took the bag from his hands, but, as usual, you didn’t close the door right away. “Seungcheol, you look like a marshmallow.” 

“Wow, I take it you didn’t get a present for me?” He leaned against your doorframe, a pout now on his lips. “I wish I was a marshmallow. Then I could jump into some hot chocolate and finally feel warm. It’s been snowing non-stop out there since 7PM.” 

At this, you felt a small twinge of guilt for being one of his orders tonight, especially knowing that Seungcheol would often make your deliveries by foot since you didn’t live too far from Joy’s. “Does your shift end soon at least?” 

“Yeah, we’re closing a little earlier today since the boss has Christmas plans! You’re actually my last delivery for tonight.”

“Oh well, if that’s the case,” you said tentatively, stepping to the side. “Would you like to come in for some hot chocolate before you have to head back into the storm? It’s the least I could do since I did forget to get you a present.”

The boy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but his grin remained, albeit a bit amused. Now some would say that inviting some random guy into your apartment just because you didn’t want to be alone on Christmas was probably not the best idea, but Seungcheol was definitely not just some random guy. Every Friday for the past eight or so weeks, Seungcheol had arrived at your doorstep with a box of chicken with your name on it. He probably came by more frequently than your regular friends now that you really thought about it. After the first couple of times he delivered, he decided to introduce himself to you since he thought it was unfair that he already knew your name and you only saw him as the guy that brings your chicken (which wasn’t entirely true-- you saw him as the cute guy that brings you your chicken). 

“Unless you have your own Christmas plans to get to, of course,” you quickly added. Admittedly, your conversations with Seungcheol only ever extended to silly banter, so there was no telling what his life was like beyond the threshold of your doorstep. For all you knew, he could very well have a get together planned with his friends or a dinner with his family. Or a date with a girlfriend. 

“I mean, I was planning on watching Die Hard by myself again, but I think I can be a little late for that,” Seungcheol mused playfully. You couldn’t keep the wide smile from spreading across your lips as you moved back to allow him to step into your apartment for the first time. He took off his shoes and shrugged off his thick coat before following you to your small kitchen. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t keep you too long,” you said, and reached over him to grab two mugs from a cabinet. 

“I mean, you can keep me for as long as you like,” he shrugged, but you were quick to catch the mischievous twinkle in his eye. You suddenly realized that this was the closest you’ve ever stood together and turned away to begin preparing the hot chocolate in the hopes of hiding how flustered you felt. 

“Anyway uh--” you cleared your throat, but it was proving difficult to think up a conversation starter when you could feel Seungcheol so close. You chanced a glance over at him, noting how he was still rubbing his hands together and shuffling in his spot to warm himself up. “Oh no, you must be freezing.”

He shook his head, but you could see how the snow that had clung to his clothes was slowly melting and soaking into the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m fine. Though I’m definitely not as warm as you.” You followed his gaze down to the festive pajama set you had been wearing all day, which was patterned with reindeers and sleighs, and you reached over to shove at his chest lightly. 

“I was doing laundry and this is all I had!” Your voice can barely be heard over the boy’s gleeful snickering. It was now your turn to pout at him. “You know what, it’s actually really bad to stand around in cold, wet clothes. You might get sick. And lucky for you, since I am such a caring person, I have precisely the outfit that will save you from such a fate.”

“Oh no, that’s fine--”

Before he could finish, you had already whisked away to your room and returned with a folded set of pajamas that clearly matched your own. You gave him a cute little smile as you handed it to him. “No, I insist! I’ll even put your wet clothes in the dryer so that you can properly get nice and warm.” At this point, Seungcheol narrowed his eyes at you. “What?”

“You just happened to have couple pajamas at the ready?” Seungcheol hummed. “Seems like you were planning this for a while now, sweetheart.” 

“What, no! I got them on sale last year!” 

“Mm, a likely story,” he said, ducking away just in time to avoid your poke attack. Despite his teasing, he still asked you where the bathroom is, and you nearly let out a long sigh when he’s out of sight. Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest, but you weren’t quite sure why. Were you nervous? Scared? If you were honest, everything about Seungcheol put you at ease; plus, nothing about your interactions with him changed other than proximity. So why did you feel so sheepish when he teased and joked around like he always did?

While he was changing, you finished preparing the hot chocolate, topping them off with some whipped cream, and brought your mugs and your box of chicken into the living room. A small window in your apartment showcased the sky outside, which was dark and dotted with heavy sheets of snow, contrasting with your living room’s warm glow from the light of your small Christmas tree. It made you feel perfectly cozy, especially with the hot cup of cocoa in your palms. 

“Ta-dah! How do I look?” Seungcheol announced, walking out to you. The sight of him grinning at you goofily and clad proudly in the matching pajamas only made the fuzzy more prominent until it made your smile just as wide as his. There it was again-- that perplexing heart beat of yours. It accelerated as he came to take a seat beside you on the couch. 

“A lot warmer!” You handed him his hot chocolate. “Here is the promised beverage. Merry Christmas, Seungcheol.” 

“I was hoping to hear something more along the lines of ‘blindingly handsome’,” he sighed out dramatically, taking a sip of his drink. Immediately, his eyes lit up. “But I’ll let it slide this time, because this is delicious.”

A small giggle slipped past your lips as you watched him drink his hot chocolate with gusto, and when he reemerged from behind his mug, you couldn’t hold back a loud snort seeing how his top lip was decorated with a proper mustache of white cream. You nearly fell over from laughing so hard at his confused expression

“What? What is it?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. Between your bursts of laughter, you managed to point at his lips. He reached up and playfully clenched his jaw when he felt the cream covering his mouth. “Oh, you it’s that funny, huh?” He swiped up some of the remaining whipped cream in his mug onto his finger and reached over to place it on your nose. 

“Hey!” You scrunch your nose. For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other before bursting into another fit of giggles. “You’re Santa Claus and I’m Rudolph.”

Still chuckling, Seungcheol grabbed a tissue from your coffee table and wiped at his lips, then cleaned off the dollop he had placed on your nose. Your laughter subsided at how such a simple action also felt so intimate. You did your best to avoid his twinkling gaze if only to calm yourself.

 “You know, when I took on the responsibility of warming you up, I wasn’t expecting you to be such a handful,” you admitted jokingly, though some parts of you meant it. Namely your easily excitable heart.

“Oh yeah? Well, I wasn’t expecting you to take so long.” 

You turned to face him once again. “I gave you fresh pajamas and some hot chocolate! You’re still not warmed up?”

“They’re not taking effect fast enough!” he insisted with another of his infamous pouts. 

“Then do you know a faster way?” you asked and almost instantly, Seungcheol expression changes, but this time it’s not a mischievous smile or a childish pout. It’s something softer, gentler. 

“Mm, I might know a quick way to warm up. Do you want me to show you?” he asked. You blinked, gaze meeting with Seungcheol’s eyes as he patiently waited for your reply. Despite the somersaults you felt in your chest, you were now more sure than ever that you didn’t feel nervous. Upon the realization what the feeling really was, your lips easily melted into a soft smile, and you gave him a nod. Without another moment’s hesitation, he leaned over to you and delivered a sweet, chaste kiss on your cheek.

The effect was instantaneous: Seungcheol’s ears were the first to go red as his entire face heated up. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he groaned out, covering his blushing face. “That was so cheesy!” 

“I thought it was cute!” you assured him, but your laughter does nothing to ease his cringing. 

“Don’t look at me for five minutes!” he whined.

“Seungcheol really, it’s okay!” 

“Just eat your chicken or something!”

[shimanamii]

schnee week (schneek!) day 3: weiss multiship

hey, everyone! so in between other fics, i’ve been chipping away at that HoM sequel — aka Schneekos Fic™ — and i’m superrr pumped to actually finish CH. 1 eventually and post it for real lmao, but for now!! please enjoy a preview :’))) <3

~ ~

PEARL OF ATLAS (Heart of Menagerie sequel) [preview]

ch. 1, “Thief from Thieves”

There were other, more pressing concerns, of course, but Weiss realized, collapsing into her seat and staring out at the crowded platform, that it was her first time on a train.

In Atlas, she’d always had her father’s airships to whisk her away from place to place. Well, granted she had the permission. Now, though, all of it, the etiquette, the approval (more often a lack thereof), that glittering birdcage of rules—it all seemed so unforgivably stupid. Like there’d never been a point to any of it. So, yes, it was her first time on a train. Her first time in Argus. Most surprising of all, her first time running away, though not, however, her first time telling a somewhat easy lie to her father’s face to do it.

She curled her hand around the cold, smooth object nestled deep in her coat pocket. It was her first official heist, too. And it wasn’t exactly petty theft.

Pyrrha’s long ponytail swung into view, and then the hint of a smile, quick and reassuring. “You should try to get some sleep on the way there,” she said, her knee softly knocking Weiss’s as she settled in the seat across from her. “Mistral is pretty far.”

Pyrrha was only looking out for her. She seemed to have taken up a bad habit of doing that. But Weiss couldn’t imagine being able to shut her eyes for a moment, not with something so precious—so dangerous—clinging to the palm of her hand. Not with the blur of unfamiliar faces around her.

Weiss sank into the oversized coat, the collar rising to her ears. “I’m not tired,” she mumbled, though admittedly, after the sleepless couple of days she’d had in Argus, she was starting to feel those first few tugs on her eyelids.

To be honest, Weiss still wasn’t quite sure what to make of her impromptu Mistralian guide. Slash bodyguard. Slash, she supposed, accomplice. Though they did make somewhat of a conspicuous pair—Pyrrha the hometown hero, Weiss the runaway heiress of the Schnee Dust Company. News like that traveled faster than smugglers’ airships, after all.

She counted herself lucky Pyrrha hadn’t dragged her off to the Atlesian base in Argus the moment she’d spied the Schnee family symbol on the inside of what Weiss had thought was her least eye-catching coat. The one she had on now was Pyrrha’s, almost comically too big on her. At least it was warm. It smelled like her, a firewood smell. It only made Weiss drowsier.

She tallied it silently, watching her companion out of the corner of her eye. That was five favors, more or less. A few days’ room and board, supplies, protection, an escort all the way to Mistral. And an ally—if that could really be counted on. All for next to nothing, or so Pyrrha claimed, that it was only her “duty as a huntress.” (Whatever that meant.) Weiss could pay her what was owed, but anyone else, huntress or not, would’ve seized on the opportunity right away to ship her back to Atlas, back to her father, for twenty times the reward.

So…Weiss thought she could be forgiven for her cynicism because, well, that wasn’t how the world worked, was it? Favors didn’t come freely. Everything had a price, even kindness. Or maybe it was especially kindness. But it wasn’t like she had a lot of options.

Soon, the glittering ocean and the city of Argus slipped completely behind them, and the cabin went dark as the train cut through the mountainside. Pyrrha’s eyes slid to hers in the dimness, the expression in them quietly curious, like she’d sensed she was being studied the entire time. For some reason, it made Weiss uneasy, being watched in return, being looked at in the closeness of the dark. She turned back to the window. The next moment, the mountain fell away, too, and only Anima’s steely winter landscape was left, stretching out toward the distant gray fringe of trees. Not exactly Mantle’s bitter tundra, but something about the scene reminded Weiss of it.

“I haven’t been home in a long time,” Pyrrha murmured, her voice almost startling in the quiet. “It feels…a little strange going back.”

Weiss chewed her lip. She wasn’t interested, exactly, but she felt the question leave her before she realized it was: “Why haven’t you?”

Pyrrha smiled. It wasn’t the open warmth Weiss had come to expect but something guarded, a little unreadable. Maybe Weiss was just slightly interested in that. “It’s so lonely in a big city like Mistral, don’t you think?” She leaned her chin into her hand. “Surrounded by people. Argus is quieter.”

Lonely… Weiss squeezed her rucksack to her chest. “I think I know what you mean.”

She thought about the view from the airship window when she was leaving Atlas, the Solitas Sea at night. Churning and endless, something completely unfathomable. The waves had gleamed under the moon like the shine of teeth from shadows.

She remembered looking out at that ocean and, despite all her best efforts, thinking about her father, his icebox of an office, the way he would tap his fingertips against his desk whenever he was annoyed. He used to sigh and lean back in his chair to look at her, used to rub his face with his hand like something pained him. You should be careful where you throw your sympathy, Weiss, he’d say. You know, the world just beneath you is crueler than you can imagine. Waiting to tear you apart. You understand? Here, he would lean forward again, stroke his pale mustache, his listless, beady eyes fixing to her. Like wolves.

Even someone like that, Weiss figured, her eyes returning to Pyrrha just for a moment before they slipped closed. Even someone who smiled gently at you could bare fangs when the time came. Weiss couldn’t quite remember the dream she had when she drifted off, but she recalled this, at least: her own ragged voice, the strange, wet pressure of teeth, powerful jaws closing shut around her throat. And then there was just silence.

~

By the time Weiss stirred awake again, the view outside the window was dark with dusk. “Sleep well?” Pyrrha folded her book over her thumb. “The train’s made a stop in Ajisai.”

Weiss lifted her head. She could feel the red mark the glass had left on her cheek. Actually, she could feel Pyrrha politely holding in a remark over it, as well. People pressed around each other down the aisle, milled around on the platform below.

“I slept fine. I guess.” She took a mug of something warm from Pyrrha—coffee, she realized, once she brought it to her nose. She pressed her palms around it. “Thanks. Um, and you? Did you sleep?”

Pyrrha set her book aside in the empty seat. Weiss was faintly surprised by its cover for a moment—fairytales. She had a vague memory of her mother reading stories like that to her once or twice as a child. That was a long time ago, of course, but the one she still remembered well was The Girl in the Tower. Which, admittedly, seemed a bit uninspired to her now.

“Hm…a little.”

“Is that the truth?”

Pyrrha paused and then chuckled, a little self-consciously. “Well, all things considered,”—she nodded her head to Weiss’s coat pocket, then up at the rifle hidden in the overhead—“I thought it best if there was someone to keep an eye out.”

Weiss frowned, dragging her knees up to her chest. She curled her hand around the vial in her pocket again. It’d become a small force of habit (or was it a nervous tick?) at some point without her realizing it. “That wasn’t necessary. You need your rest, too.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry—”

“It’s not that I am,” she interrupted, drawing the heavy coat tighter around herself. “Worrying about you, I mean. You’re just no good to me exhausted.”

Pyrrha fell quiet, those shrewd eyes of hers, green as the jade you found all over Anima, softening for a reason Weiss couldn’t quite decipher. “Right,” she said. “I’ll try to get some hours in, then.”

Despite herself, Weiss squirmed slightly under that change in expression. “I can take care of myself just fine, you know.”

Well, in theory she could. Granted that fencing maneuvers were transferrable to, say, scrapes with Atlesian soldiers or Mistralian bounty hunters. Granted the gleaming rapier she’d stolen from her father’s study on her way out wasn’t just decoration, after all.

Pyrrha folded her arms, and for a moment, Weiss thought she’d make some remark, something doubtful—haven’t you lived your whole life being taken care of?

But then she nodded and murmured, “I can see that.”

[yodawgiherd]

Incantation of Incineration

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Ok so this work is inspired by an INCREDIBLE fanart I've been blessed to see, do yourself a favor and check it out too - > https://twitter.com/NxngOna/status/1386048795595743239 Mwah, perfection Anyway, rating is M, so beware.

(It's also quickly cobbled together because its a heat-of-the-moment thing, so forgive me if you find mistakes :> I'm far from perfect.)

This had to work.

No, who was she kidding, this wouldn’t work.

It never did, no matter how hard Mikasa tried, how deeply she dug in the library, how much she searched on the internet. Magic was a myth, and it would never work, which saddened the goth girl to no end.

She was fascinated by the supernatural ever since she could remember, devouring magazines, tv-shows or books dedicated to the topic with unhealthy speed. Maybe she was a tiny bit obsessed, but that was okay. Her parents didn’t mind, as long as she kept her grades up, and because Mikasa was very bright that was not hard to achieve. In her free time she kept experimenting, she kept trying, she kept searching for a way to make it work.

To no avail.

No ritual worked. No spell changed anything. No incantation had any effect. Still, she wouldn’t give up. It carried her through high school and it stuck with her in college too. To Mikasa it didn’t matter that goth went out of style, that magic was a forgotten thing for all of her classmates. It was an ethereal thing, bigger than life, something that enhanced the mundane and boring existence.

And today, her faith was rewarded.

Mikasa was studying in a library by herself, having an exam coming up, when her session was interrupted. A small girl appeared, hair shadowing her eyes and an enigmatic smile on the youthful face.

“Hello,”, she said, “Do you like black magic?”

“I.. Uh…”, nervous, the goth pushed an unruly bang that escaped her pigtails behind one pierced ear, “Why do you ask?”

A frown entered her features when Mikasa realized that this was a college library, no place for a small girl.

“Wait, who are you? Where are your parents?”

The girl ignored all this, rudely.

“If you do like magic…”, she leaned closer, “Check the “Worlds Religions” section, the third row.”

“What are you talking about? H-hey!”

Not answering, the girl turned and walked away, disappearing between the bookshelves. Completely dumbfounded,  Mikasa sat for a while, wondering what kind of strange experience this was. Honestly, she should ignore that. It was a child, probably making fun of her because of the way Mikasa dressed. It meant nothing.

Maybe.

Most likely.

But what if…

“Screw it.”, two words that fell from between the goth’s lips and she was putting her stuff back in the bag, throwing it over her shoulder, and walking towards the religion section.

Deftly, her fingers ran along the covers as she searched, taking care that none of her rings scratched the books. Third row, was it? Eyes sliding over one book and then the next, Mikasa felt an uneasiness in her stomach upon finding nothing. It was a joke then. The girl….

Here.

This book didn’t belong here. Sure, it had a cross on the front, but that was the only marking. No title, no text, no explanation, only black leather and silver cross imprinted into it. Looking left and right, Mikasa made sure that she’s alone before grabbing the book and opening it, eyes widening immediately.

There were spells scribbled on the pages, strange words that made sense to her only because of the life-long obsession with the occult. Not that Mikasa didn’t see books like these before, but none of the spells in those worked. Yet this one – it appeared so suddenly, and the girl was so mysterious…..

Biting her bottom lip, Mikasa quickly stuffed the book in her bag, leaving the library right after. Studying could wait, her pursuit of magic could not. Nobody noticed her little thievery, nobody called out for her, and when she was walking home, a new hope was blooming in Mikasa’s chest.

Turning the key in its lock, she wasn’t surprised to see that her parents weren’t home. They worked long hours, days sometimes, and Mikasa was used to being alone. Kicking off her heavy leather boots she beelined towards the bedroom, shutting the door after herself. Bag dumped at the foot of the bed, Mikasa pulled out the book and sat cross-legged on the floor, truly studying it.

There were so many spells in the book, so many rituals, it made her head swim. Some were amazing, some terrible, some made her shiver, and other gasp in excitement.

“No point in getting worked up over nothing.”, she calmed herself, “If none of these work….”

A test then, a trial run of one of these, to see if this was real or yet another hoax. Randomly opening the book, her grey eyes slid over the text, taking in the chosen pages.

“A demon summoning ritual.”, she read out loud.

Okay, fine.

It was a fairly basic spell, and Mikasa had everything required. Chalk to draw a pentagram on the floor. Candles in each corner of the star. In the middle, a small bowl waited for her offering. Mikasa kneeled above it, as described in the book, a knife in one hand. Going by the instructions, she was supposed to cut herself, deep enough to bleed. That was fine, but the placement of the required cut was strange. Not a hand, as she usually did, this one had to be on her face beneath the right eye.

Well, Mikasa was determined.

Reading from the book, she began the ritual. The strange words made no sense to her, but it wasn’t the first time that she chanted something without understanding what. The spell was long and tedious to pronounce, luckily she had plenty of experience with speaking tongue-twisting words. Higher and higher her voice climbed until it was the time for the climax of the ritual. Gritting her teeth, Mikasa dragged the knife over her face, catching a few drops of blood into the bowl. Planting it back in the middle of the pentagram, she waited with bated breath, waited and….

Nothing happened.

Satan damn it.

A wave of sadness washed over her as Mikasa sat back on her heels, clutching the book to her chest. This was her best shot by far, and it didn’t do anything. Maybe it was finally time to accept that black magic simply didn’t ex…

A sudden explosion followed by black and red smoke threw her and Mikasa landed on her back, knocking her head against the floor. Her vision was swimming, but she could see that someone was standing in the middle of the pentagram now, a tall figure that angled its head back, a breathy chuckle coming.

“Damn, it's good to breathe air again.”

That voice. That damn voice. So deep, it rumbled through her entire being, tingled some parts that Mikasa didn’t even know existed. Pushing herself up on the elbows, Mikasa was about to ask what is going on when the being looked straight at her.

And she was lost.

Those green eyes pierced her, went right through any sort of mental strength, and dug into the deepest parts of her being. Not even giving her time to think the being moved, fast as a shadow, and suddenly her body was covered by someone. Falling back from the sudden assault with a yelp, Mikasa turned on her hip, still clutching that stupid book to her chest. Fearfully, she raised her eyes and finally saw what the hell did she just summon.

It was a demon all right. A man no doubt, naked from the waist up but (luckily) wearing black pants with multiple leather belts. Nothing strange on his body, at least from what Mikasa saw, but his head was quite a different story. There were horns on the top of his head, black and curved. Strange markings ran down from his emerald eyes, a bit like cuts, heading down the cheeks. Studying it, studying him, Mikasa realized one thing.

Their faces were damn close.

“So you are the one who summoned me?”, the demon asked, a smug smile crossing his admittedly very handsome features, “A girl?”

Mikasa’s throat was dry, so dry that she couldn’t even answer, but the demon didn’t seem to mind. He was looking at her too, eyes roaming all over her face and a certain satisfaction appearing. A strange ringing sound to her left, and suddenly there was a hand touching her, sweeping away hair that fell into her eyes.

He had claws, she realized, claws and torn shackles at his wrists. And while the claws did look sharp his touch was gentle, not hurting her in the slightest.

“A pretty girl at that.”, the demon continued his monologue, “Very pretty…. Beautiful …”

There was hunger in his words now, a primal one that made Mikasa shiver. She had to do something, otherwise this demon would devour her. Gathering all her mental strength, she clutched the book tighter and spoke.

More like squeaked.

“I-I am y-your master now! You c-came because of my c-calling, that ma-makes you mine!”

“Is that so?”, the demon wasn’t bothered by these words in the slightest, more like pleased if she read his face correctly, “Tell me, beautiful…”

Closer, closer he moved and now their faces were practically touching.

“Do you feel in power?”

Unable to speak, Mikasa shook her head as her lips trembled in fear. A single tear rolled from her eye, realizing that while she may have conducted the ritual, she had no idea how to control the demon. Yet before the tear could splash against the floor the demon caught it, a gentle claw swiping across her slightly bleeding cheek.

“There is no need to cry, pretty girl, I have no intention of hurting you.”

“Y-You don’t?”

“No, you are way too beautiful for that, I wouldn’t dream of tainting that. And…”, his nostrils flared as he took a lungful, “you smell wonderful.”

His head dipped low and suddenly it was on Mikasa’s neck. Lips parted and sharp teeth grazed the skin, making her think that despite the earlier words he might still hurt her. Instead of pain a soft kiss was planted on her neck, forcing a gasp from her throat. That sound pleased the demon.

“W-What are you doing?”, Mikasa choked out.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but you can’t expect me to come all this way from hell and want nothing in return….”, claws appeared again, this time on her upper thighs, dancing around the lace of her stockings, “There is an ocean of pleasure I could drown you in, my beauty, and I’m feeling generous tonight…”

Retreating from her neck the demon faced her again, the green eyes scorching with intensity.

“What do you say, mortal, want a taste?”

No! – her rational half screamed.

But…

He was so beautiful, so unreal, he was everything Mikasa dreamed about. Dark magic was real, it summoned a demon for her, one that was offering her pleasure. Those damn claws on her sensitive skin, the aftertaste of his lips on her neck, the delicious heat his body produced, pressed so close to her….

“Y-Yes.”, Mikasa found herself saying, unable to stop it, “I do.”

The smile that appeared on the demon’s lips, that was the epitome of smugness.

“Good.”

Without further ado, he crashed his lips into hers, finally kissing her. Mikasa was taken aback by this, head lolling back and jaw wrenched helplessly open. The demon’s tongue slipped into her mouth, abnormally long and dexterous, wrapping around her own in one slick motion. At the same time the claws moved, repositioning from her thighs to between them, pressing against her heat. Overcome at several places, Mikasa moaned out loud.

Black panties nudged aside, now the tip of the claw was teasing her wetness directly, building her frustration up. She couldn’t do anything, hands uselessly hanging on the side, the book cluttering on the floor. His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, taking it as its own home, even brushing against Mikasa’s throat. How long was that damn thing?

By the time he finally allowed her to breathe Mikasa was panting, eyes wide and cheeks boiling red. Observing the fruits of his labor, the demon noticed the blood still trickling down, his tongue sweeping out to lick at it.

“Delicious…”, he purred, gently caressing the tiny cut that was already healing, thanks to his tongue, “You taste wonderfully too.”

“P-Please…”, was all Mikasa could say, begging with her eyes more than with her words.

“Oh? Is there something you want?”, the rubbing grew even faster, forcing her to arch her hips and moan again.

“Please!”, she practically screamed, tilting her hips for a better angle.

Deciding that he had tortured her enough, the demon slipped a single finger inside her, exploring the fluttering walls. The penetration made her gasp wonderfully, eyes sliding shut from the intensity.  She was tight, tighter than he expected, making him frown.

“I don’t think that I can go all the way with you tonight, my beauty.”, he sighed, “It would hurt you too much.”

Summoning a single braincell to work, Mikasa cracked an eye open.

“W-What?”

The demon’s answer was a grin.

“Not to worry, I have many more weapons at my disposal.”

A second claw joined the first one, scissoring her open, and Mikasa lost control of her voice. With her mouth occupied by frantic breathing, the demon attacked the neck again, biting into the skin. She was so pale and colored beautifully beneath his teeth, and he chuckled inwardly imagining all the bruises that were sure to bloom on her.

There were wet sounds in the room, squelching as he fingered her, her body being such an amazingly reacting toy. Pulling his fingers out, the demon admired the trail of wetness that connected them to her twitching womanhood. Mikasa’s blood tasted wonderful, so how about….

The long tongue was back in action, she realized, watching as the demon licked his fingers clean from her essence, an expression of pure joy appearing on his features.

“Now this… This is something else.”, his eyes found hers, a wicked grin on the demon’s face, “I need to taste you properly.”

Faster than a snake he was gone, head appearing between her stockinged legs. With a quick swipe of his claw the demon snapped the waistband of her panties open, throwing the ruined underwear away. Grabbing Mikasa’s asscheeks he spread her open for him, planting his face exactly where she wanted it to be. Right against her throbbing sex.

If the abnormal demon tongue felt amazing in her mouth, having it down there was indescribable. Licking at her glistening outer lips first, he glided everywhere on the wet skin, cleaning it. And then he was inside. The long muscle slid into her, writhing around and Mikasa clasped her hands over her mouth just in time before a loud scream ripped its way from her throat. This was incredible.

Nothing ever came close to how the demon’s tongue made her feel. Never in her life did Mikasa experience this much pleasure because the tongue reached everywhere stimulating the entirety of her sex in long strokes and vibrations that she had no idea how he produced. Her eyes rolled back, her chest contracted, her legs clenched around his head. Relentless in his pursuit of Mikasa’s sweetness, the demon kept tongue-fucking her with a clear purpose in mind. To speed it up, to reach his feast faster, a single claw dragged over her swollen clit, pressing and rubbing and….

Mikasa lost it.

Complete whiteness washed over her vision as she came, her inner walls contracting wildly around the demonic tongue. She pulsed and pulsed and produced more of that delicious nectar that he eagerly drank in, not letting even a drop go to waste. Mikasa’s blood was delicious but this was beyond delicious, it was the best thing that he ever tasted and the demon couldn’t get enough.

When her body began to calm, a frown entered his handsome features.

“Oh no, this won’t do, I need more.”

Mikasa didn’t even get a chance to talk before the tongue slid inside her again and she screamed, eyes shutting and features contorting. Apparently once was not enough, and the demon was intent on making her come on his face again.

This was going to be a long night.

In the end, Mikasa lost count on how many times the demon made her cum. Not tiring, not needing a break, he kept pleasuring her, toying with her clit and abusing her sex. She was lost in an unending stream of happy hormones, drowning in that ocean of pleasure the demon promised her. His grip on her was firm and Mikasa’s hips were grounded, the demon didn’t allow her to move away from him, holding his prize close. Only when she was truly done and couldn’t do it anymore, when she whined in discomfort instead of pleasure did he pull back, sated.

For now.

Completely done and spent Mikasa was practically passed out, body unresponsive and eyes closed. Hands circled her, easily picking her up and carrying her a short distance. She was gently deposited in the bed and someone pulled the covers over her before a kiss was planted on her forehead. And then a heated whisper entered her ears, pushing its way into the brain even through the curtain of absolute exhaustion.

“If you want more, my beauty, you know where to find me.”, another kiss, this time on her lips, “I’ll be waiting.”

Finally, the darkness overcame her completely.

When Mikasa woke up, hours later, she thought that it all must have been a dream. That delusion lasted for only about a second before the rest of her body woke up, the ache in her lower regions demanding that she accepts the reality. Lifting the covers, Mikasa’s eyes shot open.

Her body was still fully clothed, as the demon didn’t bother with disrobing her, only her panties were gone. There were bruises, so many bruises on her upper thighs, the small part left uncovered by the stockings littered with bites. Her neck received a similar treatment, judging from the ache.

The pentagram was there, albeit the candles were snuffed out, the book lying innocently in the middle. Mikasa tried standing up to get it, only to realize that her legs refused to carry her and she fell back into the bed. Despite all this ache, despite all the unknown, Mikasa’s lips spread into a smile as she eyed the book.

The goth girl and her green-eyed demon are going to have so much fun together.

[jenomark]

Could you do 127 + Xiaojun and YangYang (if you're comfortable with it) where they're messing around with their s/o and they get a little too worked up and end up cumming in their pants? ♥

Taeil: He wasn’t into public displays of affection. Anything you and Taeil did, it was confined to the bedroom. In public, the most he did was flirt, his cute wink making you giggle. So unlike him, when your boyfriend did something sexy, you wanted him on top of whatever surface was available. You sat at the dorm kitchen table, Mark eating quietly across from both of you. Even in front of his roommates, Taeil didn’t like holding your hand. You sat next to him, your arm hair touching his but nothing else. He looked so handsome in the morning, his hair pushed to the side and his face puffy. You wanted to lean over and kiss him, but you knew he wouldn’t allow that. Feeling brave, you stood up to reach the food set between you and Mark. For just a moment, your breast brushed against Taeil’s arm. He looked down at his skin and blinked slowly. You sat back down and saw him grab at the front of his pants. “Everything okay? Anything I can help with?” you asked. Taeil didn’t speak. His eyes were on Mark to make sure he wasn’t looking. You placed your hand against Taeil’s crotch, like it was an accident, but you didn’t remove it. Taeil coughed as you began softly rubbing him through his shorts. “I’m not hungry,” Taeil said. “I’ll be back.” You felt the wetness from his shorts against your palm. The shock that Taeil came didn’t register, not even when he stood up and left you at the table.

Johnny: “This is hot.” you said. You were straddling Johnny in his car, his hands around your waist, your tongue getting ready to jam itself down his throat. “This is illegal.” Johnny said. You didn’t care that it was daytime, or that anyone could pass by and see you. When the mood came about, you knew you had to satiate it. Johnny obliged, his hands roaming all over your body. “I want to fuck.” you said. Johnny shook his head, like you were crazy. “And if we’re caught?” he asked. “We can’t have the whole world knowing what a bad girl you are.” You bit down on your bottom lip and thought of your next plan. You wrapped your arms around Johnny’s neck and kissed him deeply. Johnny was not expecting you to ride him like his cock was inside of you. He paused briefly to ask you what you were doing. “Well, if I can’t have you inside me,” you said. “At least one of us will come today.” You continued riding him, your clothed pussy brushing against his clothed cock. You were gentle with him and careful not to hurt him, but the more you picked up the pace and saw how much it was affecting him, the easier it was to get lost in the act. When Johnny came, you sat back on the steering wheel like a satisfied customer. “Don’t look so smug,” Johnny said. “When we get in, I’ll return the favor, baby.”

Taeyong: All night you were taking things suggestively into your mouth. You sucked down on the metal straw hoping that Taeyong would remember the last time you took him into your mouth. He watched you tentatively, unable to do anything but shift in his seat. You didn’t think anyone noticed, but then again, you didn’t really care. You wanted Taeyong’s thick cock to choke you. Anything else wasn’t important. “I can’t believe you.” he said, guiding your arm through the restaurant. You leaned in close to him so that he could smell the scent of your sweet breath. “Did it work?” you asked. People were too close for Taeyong to answer. In response, he took your hand and let the back of your knuckles feel his erection. You were so turned on that you couldn’t wait any longer. You took Taeyong and led him away from your party of people. All you needed was a bathroom and at least two minutes. You found the ladies room and pulled him inside, your knees dropping down to the floor without waiting for the door to shut. “Holy shit.” Taeyong said as you nearly ripped the button off of his jeans. Before his cock could reach your mouth, Taeyong came, his load hitting the bottom of your chin. You licked him off. “Let’s try this again.” you said, before taking him in your mouth.

Yuta: “Why?” he asked. You pouted. “Because I want to see you wear them. You would look so sexy.” You held your purple satin lingerie up to meet Yuta’s eyes. Trying to entice him to wear your lingerie was more difficult than you thought it would be. You played with the fabric in your fingers, trying to give Yuta a nice visual of where your fingers would be later. He rolled his eyes and agreed, snatching the lingerie from your hands. “Change here,” you said. “I want to see you stuff your big cock into it.” Yuta stripped himself naked. Admittedly, watching him put the bra on made it hard not to laugh. He was enjoying himself, pinching his nipples through the satin. You looked at his half-hard cock and back into his eyes. “You like this too much.” he said. Yuta pulled the panties up his thighs. He cupped his cock and situated his balls into them. “Oh,” he said. “I like the way this feels.” Yuta moved. The tip of his cock was poking out of the top of the panties, his pre-cum moistening the fabric. “Are you getting a little worked up?” you asked. “Thinking about my satin pussy wrapped around your cock.” The satin against his cock made him feel so good that he couldn’t stop rubbing himself against the waistband until he came, his load squirting up his abs. 

Doyoung: He didn’t want to do anything. You laid in his bed feeling bored out of your mind. Doyoung’s eyes were half closed, his body comfortable in its space next to yours. “Play with me.” you whined. “Play?” Doyoung asked. “How? What would you like to do?” You didn’t know why you did it, but you reached under the side of his arm and tickled him. Doyoung, in surprise, shouted and moved a few inches away from you. “What was that for?” he asked. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You shrugged but did it again, which resulted in both of you having a tickle fight where you found out just exactly how ticklish Doyoung was. “Stop,” he breathed in between laughing. “Stop it!” You stopped, but Doyoung tried to retaliate. You pinned his arms beside his head. It was clear that you were the more dominant one in the relationship. “What do you say?” you asked. “Please.” he said, his voice breathless. You let go of an arm but went down to cup his cock in your hands. Doyoung’s body jerked in response. You lightly tickled his cock through his pajama pants until his eyes started rolling into the back of his head. “That’s…that’s…” he began. “That’s what?” you asked, biting his ear lobe. Doyoung came, his body shaking from the orgasm.

Jaehyun: Sweet little coffee double dates. It was picture perfect, you wrapped in Jaehyun’s arms while he held his coffee in one hand and yours in the other. It was cold, so he wrapped you up in his beige jacket. “Where is Johnny and his girl?” Jaehyun asked. “Bathroom, I think,” you said. “Maybe they’re fucking.” Jaehyun smirked. You backed him up into the wall, your ass pressing against the cock you knew would grow hard just from the contact. Even in public, Jaehyun couldn’t resist a good tease. “You’re evil.” he said. You rolled your hips against him. “Am I?” you asked. His hands were full, and you knew he couldn’t do anything to stop you. He sighed and leaned his head against the building. To any passerby, you just looked like two people waiting outside of a coffee shop for friends. To you, you looked like the girl who had her boyfriends cock in her hands. You had slinked your hand behind you, your cold fingers wrapping around his length. Jaehyun jumped from the icy touch, but he didn’t tell you to stop. You got carried away and too ambitious, you knew. “I’m gonna come.” he said. You were disappointed that he was only coming after a few short strokes, but you had to admit that you loved knowing you could have him anywhere, any time. 

WinWin: You didn’t plan on putting on a show. You had gotten out of the shower and didn’t realize WinWin was home. He sat in the chair in the corner of your bedroom. As soon as he saw you, his phone dropped from his hands. “Wow.” he said, marveling at your naked body. You moved around for him, shimmying so that he could watch the way your breasts bounced. You touched your breast and brought it into your mouth, your pink tongue swirling around the nipple. WinWin sat with his hands by his side and his fingernails digging into the leather chair. He had his feet planted firmly on the ground and was hoisting his hips up so that he could rub his erection against his jeans. He was a pro at masturbating without touching himself. You kept moving your body around for him, even bending over so that he could see everything. WinWin’s moans alerted you when he had come in his pants. “I guess you need a shower now,” you said. “Come here, baby, let me help clean you up.” You got down on your knees, took his cock out of his pants and began licking him clean.

Jungwoo: He was singing. You loved hearing the sound of his voice. The music was turned up so loudly that it drowned out anything being said. You shot a furtive glance at Doyoung in the front seat of the car, at their manager driving, and you looked back at Jungwoo. He smiled at you, his cheeks rosy and round. You placed a hand on his thigh and he placed his hand over yours. You mouthed “I love you”, and he returned the sentiment. As your hand slid upwards, the note Jungwoo was singing wavered. He coughed and continued, his nervous gaze on Doyoung and the manager. You moved closer to him and let your hand fall between his legs, your fingers touching the hot leather. You waited a few minutes until a new song started so that the little whines Jungwoo was sure to spill would be covered by the loud bass. In that little time, Jungwoo rocked his hips forward just so that you would touch him a little sooner. You rubbed his cock through his jeans slowly, the thick fabric barely giving him any friction. It didn’t take much for Jungwoo to orgasm, to ejaculate in his pants. 

Mark: Maybe you meant to make him feel sexually frustrated. You were sitting on his lap, his cock tucked neatly against your ass. His friends were all around, their funny stories making you shake with laughter. Every time you moved an inch, Mark held onto your hips to steady you. You kept shifting, rubbing yourself against him so many times, that Mark had to put his lips to your ear and ask you to kindly stop. “I’m going crazy.” he whispered, the last part of his words getting lost in the noise of the dorms. “I’m going to bed.” Johnny said. Gradually, each member started leaving the sitting area. You still sat on Mark as you bid them all good night. When everyone had finally left, you leaned back on his body, your head against his shoulder. You rarely got any privacy in his dorm room, so you had to take it where you could get it. “Should we go to sleep, too?” Mark asked. You moved your ass in circles, lifting your hips to ease some of the pressure. You could feel Mark’s breathing picking up against your neck. You let your hands travel behind your back so that you could get a better feel for his cock. Using your hands and ass, you pushed yourself against him until you felt the wet patch from his shorts soaking into your leggings.

Xiaojun: You had a desperate look in your eyes. The car was moving too slow. If you weren’t being driven home, you would have stopped the car, climbed aboard Xiaojun and fucked him raw. “Just a few more minutes. We can do it.” Xiaojun said, his jaw tight, eyes unfixed. The car came to a stop and you knew it was time to release. You and Xiaojun barely made it through the front door without pawing at each other. “Hurry, hurry, hurry.” Xiaojun whispered, his hands around your throat. You danced across the living room in each others arms, lips stuck to skin, fingers undoing buttons and zippers. He pulled you along, his legs nearly pumping into a run. You liked to play along with him and move slow, your own legs pressing forward like they were caught in sludge. You dipped your hands into his pants and felt his fuzz of pubic hair and the beginnings of a boner. “Hurry.” he whispered one last time, like he was coughing the word up. When you got into the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed and clawed at the rest of his clothes. You waited, watching, breathless. The moment Xiaojun busted his erection from his briefs, his thick cum was spurting out. “Fuck,” he said. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Haechan: A nice meal with the boys. You sat across from him, your eyes feasting on how pretty he looked in the ambiance of the restaurant. He pinched a piece of chicken between his chopsticks and brought it to his lips. At the same time, you slid off your shoe and brushed your toe against his inner thigh. Haechan stopped, the food hovering halfway to his mouth. Doyoung leaned over to ask you how you were enjoying the city. You moved your foot further up into Haechan’s crotch, feeling around for his cock. Like a balloon being inflated comically fast, his cock grew hard. “I’m loving it a lot.” you told Doyoung. You enunciated the last word, licking your lips as you did. You rubbed your feet against Haechan until he came in his pants, the boys completely clueless as to what was happening underneath the table. Haechan lowered his head, grabbed your feet with one swift motion, and looked up at you through dark eyes. Slowly, he began massaging your foot like he was stroking his cock underneath the table. By the way he was looking at you, you knew you were in for a dangerous night.

YangYang: “We could make out on your bed?” you said. You posed it like a question, so that he knew it was totally his choice. YangYang leaned his chair backwards and looked into his bedroom. “You know what happens when you and I are on a bed.” he said. You couldn’t be sure, but you could have sworn you saw the beginning of a smirk playing with his lips. Your relationship with YangYang boiled down to a mutual appreciation for each others bodies and little else. Lately, you both needed to draw back from things getting serious. “Fine. Okay.” he said, getting up from the chair and pulling you behind him. “That didn’t take much convincing.” you said. You sank down onto his bed and waited for him to slide between your thighs. For make outs, YangYang liked being in control. He leaned down to kiss you neck, your chest, and the corner of your mouth to keep you wanting more. While he was also on top, it was easy for him to grind on your body underneath him. “Oh.” YangYang said, pulling his tongue away from your mouth. He stilled for a second before letting out a sigh between his lips. “Did you just…?” you asked. YangYang looked down at the space between your body and his. “Maybe.” he said. 

[wesawbears]

I couldn’t get the part from ep. 8 about Geralt’s eyes out of my head, so here’s a little something exploring that. Pretty much indulgent fluff, but that’s my brand so -shrug-

--

Like most complications in Geralt’s life as of late, this current one was Jaskier’s fault. 

Perhaps that was unfair of him to say. Geralt didn’t mind the bard’s company, not truly. Even if he usually let his words and songs just flow over him as they walked, there was something comforting about the sound, even if he would never actually tell the bard that. He reserved that- tenderness, if you could call it that- for the nights they spent pressed together, taking comfort in each other’s bodies, and Jaskier’s constant stream of conversation repurposed into cries and pleas of pleasure. It was simple- as simple as the life of a witcher could get, he supposed.

What wasn’t simple, however, was this hunt. It was supposed to be just a run of the mill kikkimora, easily dispatched. The complication was that Jaskier moved. It was a small thing, just a shift, but it alerted the creature to his presence. And in that moment, Geralt remembered why it was easier not to be connected to anyone, because the sharp spike of fear he felt when he saw the thing move towards Jaskier was dangerous. Made him sloppy. And sloppy witchers were dead witchers.

He strikes at the thing and feels sharp talons slice towards his face, the thing shrieking as Geralt’s sword drives into its heart. It’s a clean hit, killing it quickly. But Geralt is so distracted from trying to make sure Jaskier hasn’t tripped over a root and gotten himself hurt that he doesn’t see the talon falling towards him and is caught by the graze of it against his eye. 

He hisses in pain, but manages to make it to a tree before having to sit, taking calming breaths. Jaskier hurdles over to him, concern furrowing his brow.

“Geralt, are you- why are you sitting? Are you alright? Let me see, you stubborn lug-”

Geralt moves him back, perhaps a bit more harshly than he should, but he’s in pain, damn it. Jaskier, persistent bastard that he is, just presses closer.

“Is it your eye?” he asks, and moves his hand to try and get a look and Geralt just- can’t. He turns his head quickly, away from the gentle touch he can’t bear. 

Jaskier huffs as though Geralt is denying him something important, but backs off. “Stubborn goat...worse than a child,  I swear. If you won’t let me look, at least admit that we need to find a healer. Or a, a mage. Something. Kikkimoras are venomous, right? Or poisonous? If it bites you, it’s…”

Geralt has never wanted so desperately to be able to roll his eyes, but he can’t, so instead, he ignores Jaskier’s nervous rambling and stands. His vision is a little foggy, but not gone, so that’s...something. He feels better once he’s on Roach, trusting her to lead him forward. She has a keener sense of direction than Jaskier, at least, and he’s too tired to steer too much, so he’s relying on her to see for him.

Jaskier manages to get them to a town soon enough, and is admittedly rather diligent in finding a healer. For all that Jaskier’s incessant talking made Geralt’s life difficult at times, he could at least admit that having the bard around made for more pleasant town experiences. If Jaskier hadn’t been around when this happened...well, in truth, he probably would have just nursed his eye himself and hoped that it returned to normal with time. 

Now, though, Jaskier refused to leave his side as the healer examined Geralt’s eye. It wasn’t a magical injury, so the treatment was just a salve and keeping it covered and away from direct light. He followed instructions and set off to find an inn, too tired to start the journey back to receive payment for the job. They still had enough to pay for the healer, a room, and Roach from the last job, and Jaskier’s singing would cover the rest. He didn’t stick around for the festivities, just headed up for a bath and rest after wolfing down some stew. 

He tried to relax, but having one eye covered was less than comfortable and it was making him irritated. Injuries were commonplace in his line of business, so much so that he hardly noticed them anymore. But his eyes...they were the one part of being a witcher he could never seem to shake, no matter how he tried. He still remembered seeing himself for the first time after the trials. Everything about him was different, from his body to his hair, but it hadn’t bothered him until he caught a glimpse of himself and didn’t recognize the eyes staring back at him. It was the first time he’d felt less than human.

He hears rather than sees Jaskier enter the room, his jack rabbit heart giving him away as always. “Geralt, I brought you some water, no need to thank me, not that you- you’re shaking.”

Geralt glanced up at him and absently wondered what he must look like. A half-mad beast that’s been caged, no doubt. Whatever he saw, Jaskier tched and knelt in front of him.

“Geralt. What is it? Does it hurt? I can get you more salve…”

“No.”

Jaskier’s lip quirked. “No it doesn’t hurt, or no you don’t want more salve?” Geralt merely grunted and Jaskier rolled his eyes as though he were being exceedingly annoying. “Tell me what’s wrong.” When Geralt refused to answer, he went on. “You never talk about your eyes. I mean, you never talk about,” he gestured in Geralt’s general direction, “any of it. But you get especially touchy when people mention your eyes.”

Geralt sighed. Jaskier was perceptive, and he could read Geralt better than most. “Hmm,” he said, rather than admit that he was right.

Still, Jaskier pressed on, either because he knew he was right or because he had no sense of self-preservation. The two converged annoyingly often where Jaskier was concerned. “What did they do to them?”

Geralt closed his eyes. He was tired- so tired. “Another story for your songs? The first person to actually know about the witcher trials?”

Jaskier’s face flickered with hurt, but he quickly schooled it back into concern. “I wouldn’t exploit something that’s actually hurting you.”

Geralt nodded and was quiet for so long that Jaskier sat back, assured that conversation had ceased for the night. When he spoke, Geralt surprised even himself. “There was a...potion that they poured over our eyes. It burned like-I’m not a poet. But it burned. They kept us in the dark while it worked. That’s what I remember. Just...dark and burning and waiting for the screaming to stop. When morning came, I was alive and could see more than I ever had. Many others were not.” He looked up to find Jaskier’s face uncharacteristically hard. It was unfamiliar, and Geralt found it disconcerting. “Truth of it all too much for you?”

Jaskier shook his head. “I’m not disgusted. I’m angry.”

Geralt tilted his head. He couldn’t fathom what about the story would make Jaskier upset at him. Before he could ask, Jaskier clarified, “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry that this was done to you.”

“...why?”

“Because...because they changed your body and somewhere along the way they convinced you that it had changed your mind as well. Who you are.”

Geralt leaned back and tipped his head back, humorless laugh on his lips. “And who am I to you, Jaskier?”

The bard walked closer and framed Geralt’s face with his hands, pulling it back to him. “You, Geralt of Rivia, are the most astonishing person I’ve ever met.” Before Geralt could answer, Jaskier leaned forward and pressed his lips to Geralt’s, gently, but with all the passion he held in his body. 

Geralt held tightly to the bard’s waist and pulled him in until he was seated in Geralt’s lap, legs on either side of him. When they pulled apart, Geralt moved his hands to cup Jaskier’s face. He kissed his forehead before resting against him. “If I had my way, I would keep you right here, like this.”

Jaskier chuckled a little breathlessly. “Why?”

Geralt inhaled right at the crook of his shoulder and neck. “Because you’re...good. Good and bright and vulnerable. Here I can keep you safe.”

Jaskier smiled and brushed Geralt’s hair back. “I thought you weren’t a poet.”

“Shut up, bard,” he said before kissing him silent himself. He felt the smile on Jaskier’s lips, tasted sunshine and took in the life that surrounded Jaskier like a breath of fresh air and allowed himself the comfort of home in his arms.

[veridium]

Commission: “The Quiet of The Comeback”

Admittedly I am very excited to share this, mostly because I always enjoy writing Ellinor and Cullen, and @bitchesofostwick is a dear friend (as if it weren’t obvious by now with all our yelling). Thank you so much, Isabella, for giving me the opportunity to write softness for the beautiful, dysfunctional earth sign power couple. I enjoyed every minute. Love you!

--

It had been an hour -- maybe two -- since she sat down to work on the last reports of the day that lingered stubbornly on her to-do list. The only thing Ellinor did to disrupt it was loosen her layered coat. Being stationed in the Basin for so long she had become used to going in no less than four layers no matter the destination. There, in the heart of Skyhold and a stone’s throw away from a lively fireplace, she nearly broke a sweat. Some habits hastily reinforced would have to be hastily overturned. One aspect that had not yet turned into habit was what it felt like to look up and see him there. Not someplace else, not across the fortress at work or worrying to himself. Over there, also a stone or two’s throw away, sat back on the couch with a boot up on the tea table, a book straddled on his thigh.

She did her best not to grant any clues that she was watching him, or worse, admiring him. Truth was she was still riding the high that began the moment she returned and saw him looking on, ready to embrace her in whatever way he could. They had experienced this multiple times now. Ellinor’s guarded nature lost resolve with them each and every time, as if the act of leaving him could become harder and harder. 

The cover couldn’t last forever, though. There came a point when she allowed her quill to stop writing just long enough during one of her peeks, that he noticed just in time. When their eyes met it was as if they had run into each other in a narrow hallway back in the beginning. Ellinor hurriedly pasted her eyes back on her work and dipped her quill.

Cullen’s remaining attention could be felt from across the room. As always. “Something on your mind?” he asked. 

Maybe a sound would be enough. “Mm.” 

He gave a tired but humorful chuckle, but she only kept writing. That is, she thought she would. Instead she straightened her posture and looked at him. He glanced all-too-readily.

“This work is on my mind,” she tried to reason. “My eyes are tired and get to wandering.”

“They wander with specificity,” he noted. 

“They wander with...with non-specificity.” Her confidence melted into fatigue as she leaned back into her chair. Her vision glazed as her fingers rubbed over her fatigued eyes.

“Ah. Right.” Cullen then closed his book and set it atop the table. 

“Look, I--”

“Lin, why don’t you...wander with specificity over here, for a moment. I promise to ensure it is worth your time.”

Ugh, what? And why? There was no issue. This was what she had longed for all those weeks in the Basin, just some sense of normalcy. She had committed to it in theory. Staring back at him her first thought was to protest. However, in the same way his chuckle proved her no match, she was moved again by the kindness of his gesture. Mouth pressed in a thin, straight line, she stood up from her seat and walked over. Nervousness embraced her with every step closer until she was beside him, legs tucked underneath her seat and an arm hooked over the top of the couch. 

“What is it?” 

Cullen, who had no right to criticize her for overworking -- if that was his intention -- did not answer immediately. He looked to her, and then to the table in front of them. 

“It is a blessing I do not take lightly to have you here, to have us be together with no pressing crisis to surely be there in the morning. That is all I wished to say.”

She softened even moreso, her chest caving a little. “Cullen, I…”

“I know it is not exactly what we have been used to.”

“...Well, you have a point.”

His chuckle returned, more heartily so. Wonderful. She sighed, perhaps the deepest exhale she had made since she rode in through the gates and saw him there on the other side. 

“I like it, too. I wanted nothing more than this...this…”

“Rest?”

“Hey, do not say it as if you understand the concept more than I do.”

His brow raised a bit, a grin playful to match. It made her blush with slight regret, but was she incorrect? No. Just nonplussed as to what the matter was, really, underneath the sentimentality. There was one, wasn’t there? But wait...

“This is not an argument or discussion,” she said, looking to the fire, “is it?”

“No, not ideally, anyway.”

“So we are just...talking. Observing how much we enjoy each other.”

His grin grew. “A strange idea, I know.”

She stifled a smile of her own and elbowed him in the shoulder. For as annoyed as she seemed, it was nice to look at him again and match smiles rather than self-conscious peeks of each other from across the room. As if there was any reason for them to be so far apart in this hour. Ellinor was reminded that she had gone too long in such a way, not just a room’s distance, but an entire mountain range between them. 

“We haven’t always been good at this,” she observed. It was real, then, once more: the new ‘normal.’ 

Cullen retorted, first blowing air through his nose. “In my view, we have improved leaps and bounds.”

“You think?”

“I know.” 

He looked to her, and the way he did invited her even more to come closer. Conceding only so much, she did just so, sitting with her side up against his nearly inch-for inch. She eased in, and he sent his arm around her. Her head fit nicely in the crook of his shoulder. It always did, she could never forget. The scene before them had grown that much warmer and softer. The book on the table, crookedly resting. The fire dwindled but not so much as to leave them in the dark. The need to fill the empty space with work was depleting before her very eyes.

“What else do you know, then?” 

Cullen didn’t move an inch. He felt perfectly comfortable, like every part of him was in the exact place it needed to be, no adjustment or flinching.

“I know that you could have taken this coat off hours ago.”

“I am not,” she chirped.

Silence. Knowing silence. It ended only to the sound of her sighing.

“A Ferelden seduction line. Thanks.”

His chest bubbled with his pleased chuckle. She could feel his mouth and chin anchor closer to the top of her head. He was right, and she knew he was right because the sensation of his warm breath, however slight, against her hair only invigorated the sweat she felt all evening. 

“Do you think it’ll always be this...difficult?”

“What will?”

Her eyes opened and closed slower than before, matching the more rested beat of her pulse. For a split second she wondered if she should say it, if doing so would expose the sentimentality she tried so hard to contain within herself. 

“Coming back. Knowing when to slow down, to...to not let it all pass by.”

“It is my belief...”

“I know, I know,” she said, and pulled herself up just so she could look at him at eye level. He was still. Steady.

“Do you, now?” 

“Yes. We are both bad at it. There will likely be mistakes, that is the nature of...” 

She was putting on her best impression of him. She wished to say more, assume more, but her fatigue had her end there. Cullen merely watched. In fact, he beckoned her closer into him, just enough that she felt its pull. Though she knew him better than most anyone, the look on his face was a mix she could not immediately decipher. Then he placed his hand on her face, thumb brushing against her cheek. There was a bit more nervous light in his eyes as if he were still getting used to the idea that she could do such a thing.

“I do not spend all of my time thinking of all of what we could be better at,” he said. “Though it is...compelling.”

She smirked. “So you admit it.”

“I do also, from time to time, think of all of what we are good at. All of what you are good at.”

Her lips parted. “And…? What are we...what am I good at?” They were closer now. So much so, she could feel the warmth of his breath again, this time upon her face. Only this time she could care less how feverish it made her. 

“So far, you have done well to come back to me. And for that, I worry little about what we look like when we are together again. But you are right, we could allow ourselves to relish it far more. Even if I find great comfort in being able to witness you work several feet from me.”

The mistakes and the imperfections of it all, however provoking, fell through her grip like water then. There was no argument or discussion worth having that was worth going a minute longer without being back in his hold. At least, not for that night. All she wanted was to say “enough” to the demands of the day and relish that he was right. He was right, and she loved him for it. 

Back in her place beside him she let herself melt into the moment. Hearing his breathing go slow along with the beat of his heart, she grinned soft and took hold of his hand.

“In my observations so far,” she said, “I find I enjoy you a lot, actually.”

A hum of gentle agreement. “And I, you.”

[omgviolette12]

After Hours - A Professor Loki fanfic

Summary: Evelyn Monroe has been a TA for professor Laufeyson’s Calculus course for four months now. He was known to be quite strict, but that never deterred her from applying for the position in order to be close to the man she had been secretly pining for. One evening, she returns to his office after opening hours… and with her bountiful luck, she walks in on something not meant to be seen.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Eventual Romance/Smut

Pairing: Loki / Original female character

Chapters: 1/?

Words: 1681

A/N: The professor Loki fanfic you never asked for  ;.; I was gonna wait till I had like… six chapters written in advance till I posted this, but fuck it. I’m fairly consistent, so you don’t have to worry about ‘when the fuck is this gonna update!?’ Anyway, let me know if it’s good so far.

Come check this out, babes!: @milkymaidme @dangertoozmanykids101

                                        _________________

“Excuse me! Sorry, please move! I said move!”

Evelyn spoke as she weaved her way through the busy hallway, bee-lining straight towards Professor Laufeyson’s office.

She had been absent not once, but three times the past two weeks for each one of their meetings, and she could feel that his patience had long vanished.

Until now, being a TA for his calculus course had been smooth sailing - contrary to what herself, and everyone else who had taken his class thought.

When Evelyn opted to take calculus the previous semester, she had already braced herself for failure. Math had never been her strong suit, barely passing even the most basic of classes despite her studious nature.

But under his tutelage, Evelyn had unexpectedly grown a deep love for the subject - and the professor himself.

In class, while professor Laufeyson could be unbearably strict most times, he never failed to find innovative ways to make each lecture fun and engaging. Not only that, he was extremely patient with her when she came for extra help during his office hours. She had even breached his lunchtime on multiple occasions, and not once did he turn her away.

That was why after passing his course with flying colors, Evelyn decided to apply for the TA position as soon as it opened. Admittedly, she had grown attached to the man; not only was he knowledgeable in mathematics, but with subjects ranging from history, literature - anything she could possibly think of.

But now, as she raced towards his office, she steeled herself for a harsh tongue-lashing from her scary professor. One thing that professor Laufeyson hated the most, was tardiness. He had been lenient with her thus far, and Evelyn feared he would think she was taking advantage of his good-will.

Reaching the door to his office, she swung it open in haste.

And there he sat, his mere presence exuding authority. One long elegant leg crossed over the other as he flipped idly through a book, not sparing a glance in her direction. He was even more intimidating with his sharp way of dressing; White dress shirt pressed to perfection, covered by a dark, slim- fit suit vest. Evelyn was a sucker for men in suits, and her professor wore them like no other.

She scuffled inside, closing the door behind her. Evelyn made sure to check if it was closed correctly - perhaps due to its age, the door refused to click most times.

After doing so, she walked to stand in front of his desk, shuffling awkwardly on her feet as she waited for him to speak.

It took several beats of silence before she finally heard his cold voice, “ Enlighten me…what day is it, Miss Monroe?”

Shit…what was today?  “Uhm…Taco Tuesday..?”

He looked up from his book to give her a sharp look, “Is this a joking matter to you?”

“N..No..Nope! Uhm..I don’t- what… what was today suppose to be again?”  Really Evelyn? Taco Tuesday? That’s the first thing that came to mind?

Sighing, her professor pinched the bridge of his nose before lifting a sheet of paper into view with two fingers.

Teaching Assistant Evaluation Form: Midterm Progress

“I am highly disappointed in the effort being displayed thus far, Miss Monroe. Out of all my other TA’s, I expected much more from you.”

Evelyn gaped stupidly at the paper in his fingers, and then began to panic internally. She had no idea TA’s had midterm evaluations, so she did plan on slacking a tiny bit until finals rolled around.

As an art major, taking three studio classes began to take its toll - so much that even professor Laufeyson became an afterthought. But now faced with the danger of failing, she would have to re-organize her priorities.

“I understand that you have a lot on your plate this semester. However, I would advise that you treat all responsibilities with equal priority.”

“Yes…I’m sorry professor, I promise to make up for all the lost time…”

The look he gave her after she said those words made her extremely uncomfortable. Sharp, and burning with intensity. Uh…did I say something wrong?

Having noticed that he must’ve looked off, he turned his head abruptly back to his book.

“Actions speak more than words, Miss Monroe. Now sit. You have much to make up for.”

And so, for the next three hours, Evelyn worked hard in the suffocating silence of his office grading one too many papers. Her professor never talked much, granted. But he wasn’t usually this quiet with her.

Over the past four months as his TA, they had developed a sort of… companionship. If you could call it that.

She was intimidated at first- and still is, but he was surprisingly easy to converse with. After she assisted him with whatever he had on his plate, they would usually fall into casual conversation, and talked about all manner of things that inevitably drew them closer.

But now…she could sense that he just was watching her, and she could barely concentrate on grading due to nerves.

Evelyn raised her head from the papers to chance a glance at her professor - and sure enough, he was staring at her with furrowed brows, and narrowed blue-green eyes.

What.. what’s his deal? He’s acting so weird…

Evelyn cleared her throat stiffly to breach the silence, “Uh… is everything okay?”

He shot her the unfriendliest look she had ever seen on his face, but spoke in a calm voice that did not match it, “You pull three no-shows, show up late, and then have the audacity to ask if everything’s okay?”

Welp…guess I shouldn’t have asked…

He closed the lid to his book a bit too harshly, causing Evelyn to jump slightly in her seat at the sudden sound.

“You’ve done enough, you may take your leave.”

Evelyn glanced down at the pile of papers she barely managed to make a dent in, “ Oh..but-”

“It is lunchtime, and I’d like to eat in peace. Now please leave.”

At his stern command, Evelyn gathered her things quickly before walking to the door. She glanced over her shoulder to look at her professor one more time, guilt weighing down her heart as she watched him gather the large pile of ungraded exams in front of him.

While she was a student in his class, professor Laufeyson always went above and beyond to make sure she knew the material and spared no effort in tutoring her when she asked for help. He was a busy man, so he rarely showed any other students the same courtesy.

But her lack of effort and laziness not only gave her a poor grade, but unnecessary stress to the person she admired the most.

No wonder he was so affronted with her.  She was a terrible student, in addition to being a terrible friend.

Evelyn walked a little around campus aimlessly with a heavy heart, until she went inside a cafe across the street.  

She loved the place - it had a cute little reading corner at the back, and she would always order a huge slice of lemon cake to eat while she studied.

And at the thought of cake… Evelyn was suddenly struck with an idea. She recalled, during one of their many casual conversations, that he mentioned having a bit of a sweet tooth.

Even if she couldn’t make up entirely for her poor work ethic, she could at least treat him to a nice, big slice of cake as a start.

After studying for a few hours, she went up to the counter to order the biggest slice of lemon cake they carried.

It was around six in the evening by the time she left the cafe, the skies now a dark purple hue as she scurried across campus with a large cake box.

The cake’s size was a bit overkill -  but like her mama always said, go big or go home.

She just hoped he was still there around this time. More than likely he is, with the amount of work she left behind.

Evelyn entered the now empty building where his office was situated, taking care to walk as slowly as possible. She could be a bit clumsy when she was nervous, and at the moment her heart was beating a mile an hour.

Just give him the cake, apologize again, then head on home. No biggie.

He was really pissed with her earlier on though, and she hoped he cooled down considerably since then to accept her gift graciously.

As she slowly approached the office door, Evelyn paused.

Eh… the heck is that sound?

She walked closer to the door, and the sounds grew louder as she did.

Whack! Whack!

Slap!

Slap!

Evelyn was beyond perplexed. What in the world was he doing in there to make that sound?

She was about to knock when the sound of her professor’s velvety voice through the door caused her to go stock still.

“I am highly disappointed in you, Miss Monroe. Who told you to come?”

Evelyn shivered at the tone of his voice, her eyes growing wide.

How…how did he know I was here? And why’s he talking like that? 

She plagued herself with so many questions that she felt herself turning silly.

’‘But… I suppose you’ve been a diligent, good girl. You may come now, Evelyn. Come for me.”

What the…I guess he wants me to come in then?

Without further confirmation, Evelyn twisted the knob to swing the door open.

“Uhm… I’m sorry for -  Holy SHIT!”

Little did she know… it wasn’t the ’come in, have some tea!’  type of come, but the sexy, kinky kind.

Evelyn all but threw the cake inside the room with a surprised yelp, shocked at the sight that now tainted her poor virgin eyes.

Her beautiful professor… whom she secretly admired… was currently balls deep within a fortunate female victim - paddle in hand as he fucked her mercilessly against the obviously sturdy surface of his mahogany desk.

                   Good? Bad? Worth pursuing? Let me know~

[allinlowercase]

If I Could Tell Him - Chapter Three

Chapter Three - At the Beginning

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: Alaska hadn't intended to be slingshot back into 1960. Life doesn't always live up to our intentions. When she and her friend Jackie are supposedly hit by Paul's car, they are by chance swept into the Beatle's orbit. But while Alaska struggles to reconcile her lost future and past, Jackie is unable to contain her excitement.

A/N: Hello there *swings comically elaborate candelabra around* welcome to my fic. Thank you for reading! If you see anything that’s inaccurate in this series please don’t hesitate to let me know. I like to think I do a good job of researching my shit, but I am only human.

January 18th, 1963

I startled awake at the sound of a brisk knock on wood. Looking up from my place in a highly uncomfortable chair, I saw a nurse making her way towards Jackie's bed; I must've dozed off. After determining that I was in surprisingly exceptional shape for being hit by a car, the doctor decided that I could handle the news that Jackie was faring much worse than I. She suffered from fractures in her left clavicle and femur, and the bruises that covered her were still purpling. Although everyone thought Paul'd hit us with his car, I knew that Jackie could've been injured much worse from that semi. Whatever God had saved me from extensive injury had also saved Jackie's life.

The nurse smiled at me from the other side of Jackie, and as she started to check her vitals I untangled myself from a plastic bedside chair, pulling my legs down from their perch on the side of Jackie's bed. "How is she?" I asked when the nurse had finished. She'd been Jackie's nurse for a few days now; her name was Mary. Mary offered me another light smile.

"She's improving, little by little. She just needs to be resting and getting her strength back up. How are you this morning, is there anything I can get you?" she asked. I'd kept up a near-constant vigil for Jackie, and the hospital staff had been exceptionally lax on me. There were, of course, the factors that I didn't have anywhere else to stay, and that Jackie was in a critical condition. But I also came away with the feeling that the hospital staff in this unit were just very kind people. Mary had been amazing while she was Jackie's nurse, and all the other nurses seemed happy and eager to be just as kind. I especially liked the doctor, Dr. Taylor, who'd managed to miraculously check by for Jackie every time she happened to be awake.

I shot her back a smile, a small one. "If you could perhaps bring me some coffee? That would be great," I asked softly. There wasn't always coffee left in the nurse's office, but Mary nodded and promised to be back, passing Paul on her way through the doorway. I hadn't expected him to do as much as he had for us. He visited every other day or so; whenever he did Jackie would sometimes be up. She, of course, thought she was having fever dreams, and I didn't see much point in correcting her yet. She was still fragile.

When Paul found that I only had about forty dollars between us (which as it turns out, can get us pretty far) he offered to help pay. He also offered his couch from his living room and a few other things: would I like him to bring by dinner? The food in the hospital can't be that great. Was I sure I wasn't cold? My shirt looked awfully thin and the hospital, as a rule, was pretty chilly, besides it being the wintertime. Would Jackie and I enjoy sitting in on a session of his band, when she was out of hospital? He already knew that Jackie recognized him and was a fan; she looked at him the way Mary must have looked at Gabriel - terribly confused and maybe a little frightened, but in intense awe.

I hadn't taken up a lot of them; I knew he felt guilty for the idea of having hit us with his car, which he obviously thought caused Jackie's injuries. I don't know, maybe he was partly responsible. But I did know that he hadn't broken Jackie's femur, and that combined with her being in such a bad state had fueled me to refuse his offers of a couch and going out for food. To him, it was an offer to get my mind away for a little bit, but that didn't seem right to me.

"Hello," he started, raising his hand in a little wave. He pulled up the only other vacant chair in the room. "How is she?" he asked, crossing his legs. I shrugged.

"Well, she's been able to stay awake for longer periods now, but it's followed by almost equal bouts of sleep. I don't know if that's better or worse. Mary said she was doing better, in terms of vitals. I think she's getting more lucid too, she's remembering conversations better," I offered. He nodded and rubbed his jawline. Jackie rustled around in the bed next to us and I looked over to see her awake. I offered a small smile, which she tried to return, although the bruising on her cheek caused her obvious pain.

"Hey there Alaska." I reached out and squeezed her right hand, which had remained fairly unbruised. "Hi, fever dream Paul." He nodded, trying to hold back a nervous chuckle. He found it almost funny how little Jackie believed that it was him. "Has Taylor been by? I haven't seen him in a while."

"You saw him this morning," I reminded her; she wasn't the best at tracking time yet. She stuck her tongue out at me.

"Fuck you man, that is a while," she muttered, digging her head into her pillow, trying to make a comfier notch. In the beginning, I couldn't tell if Paul was bothered by Jackie's swearing, but I think he was just surprised. Now he snorted.

"In a manner of sorts, I suppose it's a while," he offered in defense. There was another crisp knock at the door. I turned to see Mary proudly entering with a mug of coffee. Paul raised his eyebrow as I cradled it for a second before taking a sip. "Are you sure that's a good idea Alaska? It's already six at night."

I shrugged. "I'll be up for a little while, besides I just slept. I don't want to be groggy." Paul sent me a disapproving side-eye.

"I worry, about you sleeping in that chair every night and eating mostly from the hospital. It's doing you a disservice, I think. You know I've room at home," he offered. I shrugged and felt Jackie's eyes on me.

"I don't spend every night in this chair. Sometimes, I manage to find a couch in a waiting room," I replied like that made a difference, pausing to blow on the coffee. "Besides, the food is not that bad, I'm not expecting Gordan Ramsey." Paul looked confused at my accidental pop culture slip but didn't address it. I cursed myself. Memo to work on that.

"Alaska no," Jackie piped up from her spot on the bed. I looked over at her, sheepish. I hadn't really discussed this with Paul in front of Jackie before. "I'm bedridden, not dead and I'm not going anywhere. If you're trying to tell me that I'm your excuse to not go home with Paul fucking McCartney, I will beat your ass."

I snorted. "You'll beat my ass? You'll beat my ass right from that hospital bed?" She glared at me in response.

"I'm serious. I don't want you to sacrifice your own well being because of me. I'll feel like shit for it. I want you out of this room tonight, or else I will grab you by the neck and shove you down a shower drain. Do you hear me?" Paul looked a little perturbed by the scope of the threat, but I lifted both my palms up in defeat, not exactly thrilled to be sharing a living space with a stranger. Jackie was right though; I wasn't taking care of myself.

Our conversation went on for a little longer before Mary came back with Jackie's dinner, and shooed us out at her request. I pulled on a cardigan and jacket that Paul had brought me from his house and started my exit from the hospital with him. We started on the sidewalk towards his house.

Feeling otherwise awkward, I started humming. Paul looked at me queerly. "That's quite catchy; you come up with that yourself?" he asked. I paused, panicking for a moment as I realized it was the guitar melody from Miss You.

"Um, maybe? I think I've heard it somewhere, though I can't remember where. Been driving me nuts," I offered, trying to sound as vague and honest as possible. I could lie somewhat well, but I usually needed time to prepare for it; I wasn't an on the spot type. He seemed to accept that though, and we continued walking, making some genuinely pleasant conversation. Paul expressed frustration over his commute from home to the studio, and I told him about my own hometown.

I wasn't sure how to be here without changing anything later on. That sounded silly to me, the idea that I could change the future, but I realized that I very well could. I could try to Yesterday someone's ass and steal their song or a novel. I could hand Paul the lyrics to his most beloved songs right now and go for a writing credit. Hell, I could potentially stop Revolution No. 9 from making its way out into the world if Paul's guilt kept me around that long. It was constantly hitting me, the power of time travel. But taking someone else's work seemed seedy, and I wasn't down for it, so I tried not to do stuff like that: humming songs that don't exist yet.

We reached what I supposed was his family's home. It was pretty, with brickwork and hedges around where the yard met the sidewalk. Pretty standard I supposed; admittedly, I don't know much about English architecture.  As Paul opened the door and let me in, we were met by the call of a man.

"Paul, come in the kitchen," the voice directed, stern but not unkind. Paul shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a coat rack, and offering to take his jacket back too. I followed him into a small yet cozy kitchen, where a young man was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, and an older man stood at the stove. Squinting, I could see the date on the newspaper read 18 January 1963. I kept forgetting what day it was, though I know I asked Mary more than once.

The young man looked up from his newspaper and made a grunt in surprise. He folded it loudly and stood to offer his hand. I took it and shook as he introduced himself.

"Hello there, I'm Mike, this sod's brother. Welcome to the McCartney residence."

[anastasiaskarsgard]

Can you do another part to touched about how his family would react to him having interest in a girl?

Megan thought about her kiss with Simon all week. She’d even catch herself grinning, absentmindedly touching herb lips. He was just so gorgeous, and tall, and took a real interest in what she said, like he was hanging on every word. He was a bit odd and she couldn't remember what he said he had, but it wasn't contagious she was pretty sure.

It wasn't everyday a guy that looks like a supermodel takes notice. Shes a nice looking girl, but a bit plain and low profile by choice. She preferred to blend, not stand out, but that also meant that people that do stand out (like Simon) didn’t notice her.

She really hoped he’d come in today like he did everyweek. Her Dad had told her not to get her hopes up, and that dating him would be a challenge, but he wanted her to stay a little girl forever, so she took his warnings lightly. She wasn't needed, since her Dad was better, but she wanted to at least hang out a bit and give Simon a chance to find her. Her dad gave her some work to do to pass the time and not look like she was waiting on him.

next thing she knew Simon was there and he had two people with him. One guy and one girl and they appeared to be a couple. Simon, was showing them various displays, and she felt very nervous all of a sudden. Her thoughts started to run wild with questions like ”what if he just ignores me?” or ”what if they don't think I'm pretty enough?”

She returned her attention to her work, although She couldn't really get anything done, because she was so preoccupied with her uncharacteristic insecure thoughts.

”Megan?” Simon asked shyly.

She spun around in her chair, standing up, and skipped over to Simon and waved hello. He awkwardly waved as well and then looked down at the floor. She wasn’t shy at all, but found his shyness adorable.

“Don’t be nervous Simon, I’m so happy to see you. Are you nervous?”

His beautiful green eyes flashed up to her and locked on to hers. He blushed and nodded.

”well that makes two of us. I was starting to think you were just going to ignore me,” she confessed.

”i could never ignore you.” he said matter of factly, looking at her like she might me crazy. He huffed his breath, causing his bangs to flutter.

She couldn’t help but be a giggly mess. She was trying to play it cool, but that was never one of her strong suits around someone she liked. She knew she was ridiculous to think it, but she couldn’t help but to think he was out of her league as well.

Simon truly was beautiful. He was at least 6’3” with a slim build, but built solidly, with broad shoulders and large hands. As impressive as his body was, it was his face that took her breath away. The first thing she noticed was his large quizzical green eyes that were very expressive. She could see what he was thinking and he had this openness about him that made her feel like he’d never lie to her. She had a thing for cute button noses on men, and if she didn’t know better, she’d swear he bought his from a doctor along with his full rosy lips. The more she considered his face, the more it became clear that he was literally gorgeous. His cheekbones were set high, and his chin was strong with a masculine dimple, and although he didn’t smile often, she’d seen a flash of dimples when he had. His teeth were perfect and most Boys their age had at least a couple skin blemishes, but Simon had none. He dressed really colorful too, which was refreshing since most guys wore dark colors.

“You could be a model,” she blurted out.

Simon looked at her strangely and then turned around to look for she assumed his friends, but then he tuned back to her.

“Do you eat pizza? It’s Friday and I would like if you came and ate pizza with us. Are you hungry?”

“I am almost starving now that you mention it.” She answered, staring at him patiently.

“Do you want to go eat with me and Sam and Jennifer?”

“I’d love to! That’s your friend Sam?”

“That’s my brother and he is my friend too. So yes. Jennifer is my friend too. I found her for him when his girlfriend left and ruined our equation.”

“Equation?” She giggled.

“The equation to make living together work. He needed a girl that balanced us out or it’d never work, but I found him Jennifer after Frida went crazy over no toilet paper.”

“I’m sure that’s a fun story.” She quipped.

Just then Sam and Jennifer came over and introduced themselves. Megan greeted them warmly, and found Jennifer to be bubbly and delightful. Jennifer asked Simon to go with her to help her understand something.

“She’s starving, we need to get her food.” He said seriously.

“I can wait a few more minutes, go ahead.” Megan responded. She could tell that Sam wanted to speak to her without Simon hearing, and Jennifer was the distraction.

Simon reluctantly agreed and folllowed Jennifer to the other side of the room, out of ear shot.

“So...” Sam started. “You like my brother?”

“I do. He’s very nice and sweet and handsome, what’s not to like?”

“And he kissed you last week? Two times and touched your face and arm?”

Megan blushed hard looking away, “Wow, you guys are very open with each other but yes.”

“He’s literally never done that and hates to be touched. Do you know what Aspegars is?”

“Not really. My dad mentioned he doesn’t like touching, he’s a bit socially awkward and he is incredibly intelligent.”

“A bit.” Sam laughed rolling his eyes. “It’s more than a bit.”

“Well I’m super comfortable in social settings in general, although I admittedly get anxiety over situations like Simon, not only because I like him, but I don’t want to do something wrong, or hurt him. I’m an empath. I think I make him pretty comfortable, and have an idea of what I’m getting into maybe.”

“I don’t know that you do. Simon is very particular. He does everything by a set schedule. This is the most he’s gone off his schedule in a year. He’s obsessed with circles, he normally never allows anyone to touch him. I mean even if me or my parents touch him, he may strike us. He has tantrums, he has to turn a light on and off 3 times, and he takes everything literally. Sarcasm escapes him and you have to mean what you say or he’ll think you’re lying. He’s also obsessed with space, and up until now, he’s shown no interest in the opposite sex. He actually has an aversion to emotional songs or movies. When he told me he had kissed the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, frankly I couldn’t even grasp it. I half didn’t think you were real. He’s been hyper focused on you, so that’s another thing I need to warn you about. For lack of a better word, you’re his interest now, and he doesn’t half ass interests. He goes 100%. Are you getting all this? you look a little lost. Is it too much?”

“No please continue! I wish everyone I ever kissed came with this type of introduction and tips from their brother. I’m all ears!” She smiled at him encouragingly.

“Ok. When he gets very upset, he has a hard time coping and needs to do something to calm himself. He often likes to hide in a large can we have at home, until I can talk him out. If I’m able to stop him from going in there, he may twirl a hoop on his arm, or clean something. There have been many times where he has physically lashed out, for instance if someone touches him he’ll push them away or slap them. If God forbid someone tries to embrace him it’s really bad. Now I don’t know at all how that’s going to translate into a relationship, just be cautious or ask. Don’t surprise him.”

“Is that all?” She scoffed, sitting back down to soak in all the new info he just dumped on her.

“He’s not all bad. He is active and although he’s very blunt and has no filter, you know he’s never lying to you. If you want to come up with an excuse to back out, I understand and will back you up.” Sam said sympathetically.

Megan looked over at Simon who was explaining something to Jennifer, having what appeared to be, a normal interaction. He looked so assertive and passionate about whatever he was telling her, and then he glanced over and their eyes met. She couldn’t help but smile, and he smiled in return, waving his hand at her. She glanced over to Jennifer who’s mouth was hanging open and looked completely stunned. As Megan watched Simon make his way back over to them, she knew she should be apprehensive and this was not going to be easy or typical, but that was okay. She couldn’t help but think that maybe because she was his opposite, (being so empathetic and socially intuitive), that she could possibly balance their own equation. She had a maternal streak, and found the thought of being needed an attractive trait in a partner. She also was a bit insecure, and the fact this drop dead gorgeous guy that every girl in the room took notice of, only ever wanted to touch her, and will literally slap other bitches that try to touch him! That was almost as attractive as his face. Yes. She was definitely interested in Simon.

“Sam, I’m glad you told me those things, but I still want to see where this goes. I’ll be respectful, and I’ll research Aspegars to get more familiar, but I find a lot of the perceived negative traits about him, incredibly comforting and endearing. ” She said.

Sam was completely taken aback by her response, and after regaining his composure after a tick, smiled and felt a great relief. He had been mentally preparing how to deal with Simon after the girl ran for the hills when she was fully aware of the situation, but here she was. He felt he had done his part, and although he’d continue to be supportive, and inform Simon about aspects of a relationship that aren’t obvious, he had to step back and let nature take its course. Thank God condoms are circles he thought to himself.

“Ready to go eat everyone?” Sam asked. “You lead the way Simon.”

Simon hesitated, concentration painted on his face, before looking at Megan confidently. He reached out his hand to her, and she cautiously took it, allowing him to guide her.

Sam and Jennifer both had to suppress their utter shock, but were absolutely thrilled that everything was going so well.

Megan had a wonderful time with Simon, making sure not to touch him suddenly, and careful of how she worded things.

Megan heard the now familiar beep of Simons watch, letting them know they were onto the next activity, or point in the schedule.

“What does that beep mean?” She asked gazing up at Simon.

Simon was distracted by her eyes and how they appeared brown, but when he stood closer and really looked they were the darkest shade of green. His color green is uncommon, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing someone with her color. He knew the science behind eye color and hers didn’t make a lot of sense but here it was; Looking up at him.

“That beep was time to leave in the next 5 minutes. “ he stated.

“Oh,” she sighed. “Well I understand. Time prevents chaos, but I’d really love to see you again. Can I have your number or you take mine?”

Simon was very perplexed. He knew it was time to go, but he didn’t want to go and he didn’t care if they were off schedule. He did know that was a crazy way to think. Time was one of the most important aspects of his life, it kept chaos at bay! But he found his need to be near Megan outweighed his fear of chaos, and he was pretty sure he had feelings to blame for this. Normally the thought of feelings repulsed him, but not when he looked into her eyes.

“I have feelings for you.” He said abruptly, watching her reaction, pleased when her face lit up.

She smiled a big genuine smile that made Simon feel warm. “Can I give you a kiss goodbye?” She asked. “If not, then I totally get it, I just have feelings for you and— “ She rambled before being cut off by Simon wrapping his arms around her, and lowering his face to give her a passionate kiss. She gingerly wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling him tense up and freeze.

She dropped her arms and looked up at him apologetically but he relaxed a bit and grinned down at her. “It’s ok. It is nice when you touch me. Only you though.”

She lightly placed her arms around his waist again and leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes, “Yes. Only you,” she whispered.

[i-writing-is-hard-i]

Travelling Merchant (Elrond) pt2

Part One: 

Part Three:

A request from @wraith-queen-todd   who asked for Lord Elrond.  

I wasn’t sure what to write, and I found it quite hard to pinpoint his character, this was the best I could do….

and as usual its more than one part, how do people write little things?

A year had passed since you started trading with Rivendell, you were currently heading back in that direction with the intention of setting up camp just outside, so you would arrive in the early morning, everything was going to plan, until the next morning, it was still dark but something woke you with a start, your horse was panicking, as though it had sensed something, that you couldn’t.  You listened out but you couldn’t hear anything.  Deciding not to hang around, you started packing in the dark, saddled up your horse and headed off, which in reality probably wasn’t the best plan, it was still so dark, even the moon was covered by clouds.  You were pretty much riding blind, going by guesswork and memory for the most part.  Deciding that this wasn’t too safe, you hopped down, leading your horse instead, this did make it much easier, and safer.

You were certain you were nearby and convinced the sun should be rising soon, everything was going to be okay, until suddenly a loud growling noise filled the air scaring your horse causing her to dart on, however as the cart rushed passed the wheel clipped your shoulder, knocking you down with a thud, your head hit a rock, causing you to pass out.  

Your mind slowly came round, to the sound of birds, you could vaguely felt the sun beaming on you warming your skin, and you were definitely laying on something very soft, it was quite a nice way to wake up, that was until, a sharp pain shot through your shoulder, chest, and head.  That was when it all came back to you, the growl, your horse being spooked and you fall.  Now it was time to open your eyes and see where you are.  It took a moment, for your eyes to adjust to the brightness, even after a while though, your eyes were still blurred, rubbing and blinking your eyes didn’t help, it only hurt your head more.  Sitting up wasn’t easy either, with the pain in your shoulder and chest, but now that you were sitting up, it was easier to see where you were, there was no doubt in your mind that you were in Rivendell.  After a few more minutes you were able to gather your thoughts.  A few questions came to mind, how you got there? And where were your horse and cart?  

With a struggle, you clambered out of the very comfy, very inviting bed. That was when you noticed you were in different clothes, someone changed you, it made you feel a little uncomfortable, but the dress itself was nice and comfy.  Though your eyes were blurred you could easily make out everything around you, so ignoring the pain in your body, you made your way to the door.  It was much lighter than it looked.  Stepping into the corridor you immediately recognised what part of Rivendell you were in,  Lord Elrond's home.  With sluggish steps you made your way towards what you hoped was is office, for some answers.

You had barely got anywhere before Lord Elrond himself came round the corner.

“How are you feeling?” he asked worriedly.  As he waited for your answer he escorted you back to bed.

“How can falling over hurt so much” you chuckled, it was intended to be a light-hearted remark, but Lord Elrond only frowned.  His main focus was that you still hurt.

“Unfortunately, my healing skills can’t help with that” he noted.

“How did I get here?” you asked in return.

“Glorfindel went in search of you after your horse can cart showed up, it took a while for him to find you, unfortunately, what happened?”

You explained what happened, after confirming that your horse was safe. That was when Lord Elrond told you, you had been unconscious for four days.  

“Four days” you called out, that hurt and out of reflex you reached up to cradle your head, hurting your chest and shoulder in the process.  Lord Elrond approached you instinctively.

“You have broken your shoulder, you need to take it easy” he noted.

“I’m so gonna be late” you groaned.

“Late?”

“For my next trade, I should be there tomorrow” you had a pretty tight schedule that you liked to keep

“I’m sorry, but you are not going anywhere, not in your current state” Lord Elrond placed a hand on your head as if to feel your temperature, his hand was warm, comforting.  

“But” you were going to protest, but you knew he was right,

“You are more than welcome to stay here and rest, your horse is being well taken care of, your inventory is safe, all you need to worry about is getting better”

It was like he knew what you were going to say, so in the end, you decided not to protest, sitting back against the headboard.  

“Good” he smiled warmly, “I will have someone bring you something to eat, you must be hungry”  Lord Elrond stood up, leaving you to your own devices, now that he had mentioned food, you realised how hungry you were.

The next morning, you felt able to get up and move about, your main goal for the day was to check on your horse,  you didn’t doubt Lord Elrond when he said your horse was being looked after, but you wanted to see them for yourself, after all, they were your only companion.  Thinking about it like that made you realise just how lonely you were.  Of course, you had friends but you only ever saw them every so often.  Determined not to dwell on the matter, you kept yourself moving, the light of the outside seemed harsher than your temporary accommodation.  It seemed to amplify the pain, but you were here now, so you mustered on.  Locating the stables was harder than you expected, considering you had been there before.  

Sure enough, there was your horse looking healthier than ever, who ever was looking after them, had brushed them thoroughly, your horse seemed happy to see you too,  your eyes drifted around at the other horse.  You let yourself into the stall, wrapping your arms around their neck.

“You are definitely the most beautiful horse here” you whispered.  All the other horse in the stable without a doubt looked like they belonged to elves, with their elegance and stature.

You spent some time simply stroking and talking to them, keeping them company.

“You should be rest, Y/N”  someone suddenly spoke.  You knew immediately who it was.

“Lord Elrond, I simply wished to see them”

“Then if you are up for it, would you like to join me for a walk” he asked, unexpectedly.

“Yes, I would like that” you replied,  a quick goodbye to your horse, you left following Lord Elrond back outside.  Once again the bright sun was a bit uncomfortable, but you weren’t passing up a walk with Lord Elrond, you quite liked spending time with him.  

The two of you didn’t travel far, but it was out of the way enough to be alone.  Whilst walking no one spoke, but you could see Lord Elrond glancing over to you every so often as if he was keeping an eye on you.  Admittedly you were in a bit of pain but hid it, however, you were grateful when you got the chance to sit down.  With Lord Elrond sitting beside you, the two of you talked about each other, with Lord Elrond asking most of the questions, you weren’t sure why he had taken such an interest in you but you were quite interested in him too.  After all, it wasn’t every day you got to talk to a Lord, and this one was particularly fun to talk to.  Before either of you realised it, it was late in the evening.  Lord Elrond walked you back to your room, rushing off quickly to attend a meeting.

As much as you enjoyed yourself talking to Lord Elrond outside in the cooling breeze, you were happy to lay down and rest your body for a while.  Whilst lying there, your mind wandered to the conversations you had, as expected he was very knowledgeable, with interesting stories from his past, thinking about it made you rather giddy, where you developing a crush on the Elven Lord?.  Impossible.

As the days went on, you and Lord Elrond would often spend time together, when he wasn’t working.  On the days you weren’t spending time with him, you actually felt a little lonely, you missed him.  By the end of week two in Rivendell, you decided that you were fit enough to travel, the only thing giving you trouble was your shoulder, easy enough to ignore.

“Lord Elrond” you spoke up, during a lunch with him

“Yes Y/N” he returned, waiting patiently for what you were going to say.

“I am truly grateful for all you have done, I’m feeling so much better, so I think it’s time for me to get back out there” you smiled,

“Are you certain, you are welcome to stay here as long as you want?” Lord Elrond asked.

“My wares won't sell themselves” you joked,

“Then I wish you all the best” Lord Elrond smiled back.  So after lunch, you packed your things ready to leave first thing.  You were a little nervous, you had not figured out what had happened the day you arrived.  What was that growling?.  You were also certain that you would miss Rivendell, more importantly, you were going to miss Lord Elrond.  

The next morning, just as the sun was rising, you made your way to your horse, with the help of the stable hands, you were ready to leave in no time, but before you could leave Lord Elrond, Glorfindel and even Lindir, came down to see you off.  Glorfindel offered to travel with you for a while, to make sure you were okay, he was also so nice to you, but you turned him down, not wanting to cause any more trouble for them.  

Lord Elrond, stood beside you whilst you clambered on to your cart.  

“I look forward to seeing you again” he announced

“And I, you” you returned, and with that, you were off.

[yeenybeanies]

g/t prompt list

5. boop

matt murdock / daredevil & borrower!reader ( 3rd person pov ).

2,407 words

mild language warning

please keep comments to the tags!! thank you!! 

Matt started hearing the strange sounds a couple of days ago. He heard little rustling, pitter-pattering noises in the walls and ceilings of his apartment. At first, he’d thought it was just a mouse. That was the logical explanation. What else could it possibly be? But he quickly realized the error in that assumption when he listened a bit closer: the scurrying doesn’t sound quite right to be a mouse, nor does the quiet muttering of words. Last time Matt checked, mice do not speak. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to find, admittedly, but it still seems unlikely. 

Whatever it is, though, it clearly can speak, which is troubling. It could compromise his security, his identity. Matt needs to catch it before it can expose him as Daredevil––assuming ( or perhaps hoping ) that it hasn’t already. 

Given its ability to speak, Matt assumes it has intelligence. It won’t fall for any sort of lure trap. Or maybe it would; maybe he’s giving it more credit than it deserves. Still, his gut tells him that it’s a bit smarter than that, especially given the things he’s heard it muttering. What kind of a rodent says something like  “ By the Gods, I’ll be sent to a top-secret facility where they’ll dissect me and take my DNA and they’ll euthanize me long before I can hope for any sort of liberation ”? It has a vocabulary and problem-solving skills that he wouldn’t expect from a simple creature. 

He’s also heard it whisper a name multiple times. Could that be its name? ( should he still consider it an it? ) 

“ [ Y/N ]? ”  he speaks plainly, lying face-up across his couch. The faint rustling, loud && clear in his ears, stops somewhere above him. Through the ceiling material, Matt can’t get a clear shape of what the creature is; he hasn’t been able to discern anything yet beyond the fact that they are small. And now they’ve stopped moving.  “ Is that . . . your name? ”  It feels foolish, speaking to a critter in the ceiling, but here he is. 

“ Where did you hear that? ”  The little thing is shouting, voice muffled through the ceiling. 

“ From you. ”  

“ How have you been––how long have you been listening? ”  

“ I first heard you about a week ago. What are you? Why are you here? ”  The creature falls silent––in that they stop talking, but Matt can still hear their movements quite clearly––and starts moving quickly along the ceiling. If he focuses hard enough, he can hear their heartbeat, small and rapid, as they scurry along. They move to the wall, and start to make their way down, looking like they’re heading for the floor. Matt sits up, a little puzzled, head angled in the creature’s direction. They stop once they reach the floor level, but the drywall still obscures their shape. 

“ How could he have heard me? What kind of super hearing does this human have? ”  Clearly they’re talking to themselves. They must not know that Matt can, in fact, still hear them. He shifts towards the edge of the couch, a little closer.  “ Shit shit shit––what am I gonna do? I just moved; there are cats upstairs, bugs downstairs––dammit. ”  

“ You, uh . . . uhm . . . ”  Matt clears his throat. It doesn’t sound like they have any nefarious, secret-identity-exposing intentions. It sounds more like they’re just trying to live.  “ You can come out. I’m . . . not going to hurt you. ”  Their little voice stops. They go silent again, save for minute shuffling. He thinks they’re going to run away at any moment, but then they do finally speak up again. 

“ That’s what every bean says. ”  Bean?  “ ‘ Oh, i’m not gonna hurt you. ’  and then you come out like an idiot and suddenly you’re trapped in a–a–a box-thing! And being carried off to Gods-know-where! ” 

“ Do you . . . speak from personal experience? ”  If so, this is actually quite concerning. Despite the being’s comic attempts to deepen their voice and sound like a human, their story resembles something from a nightmare. Matt frowns. He lowers himself quietly to the floor, onto his knees. 

“ Uh . . . no. It’s––it’s none of your business! ”  

Interestingly enough, Matt catches a flutter in the creature’s heartbeat, not unlike what he’d hear in a lying human. His brows pinch together. 

“ Look, I . . . don’t know how to, uh, reassure you. I can––I could probably help you, if you’d come out . . .. ”  

More movement. Matt tilts his head and focuses, trying to hear it better, gauge what the little being is doing. Little footsteps reach his ears. It sounds like the being is retreating, much to his disappointment and slight annoyance. They’re moving further away from him. He has half a mind to chase, but it wouldn’t do him any good––not with them in the wall like that. Not to mention, he would probably scare the hell out of them, which isn’t really something he cares to do. They seem to be under enough stress as is.

Matt is ready to let the being be, already standing up, when he hears the squeak of a screw being turned in drywall. He freezes, senses mapping the room, finding the screw in question in a power outlet cover––a loose cover, apparently. The cover is pushed aside, and a tiny––impossibly tiny–– . . . person slips out into the open. Radar senses are all over the little figure, picking up every detail they can get. The being is approximately three inches tall; they have four limbs, each ending in five digits; they’re wearing clothes; they–––they really are a very small human . . .. 

He isn’t sure what he was expecting, exactly, but this isn’t it. A talking rat actually seems a bit more likely . . .. 

“ You’re . . .–––woah. Hey. ”  The little person’s heart rate shoots right up as he takes a step, prompting Matt to freeze again. He holds up his hands in a sort of surrender.  “ It’s okay. Like I said: I’m not going to hurt you. ”  

“ You aren’t . . . looking at me. ”  

“ I’m––yeah, I–––that wouldn’t do me much good. ” 

They don’t press further, seeming to understand. A soft patter of little feet tells Matt that they’ve moved a bit closer, though they remain well outside of his reach. That’s fine. He doesn’t intend to grab them. 

“ You have really good hearing, ”  they comment. Their heart rate is going down, slowly but surely.  “ What is your name? ”  

“ Uh . . . Matt. It’s––I’m Matt. Is [ Y/N ] your name? ”  

They nod––an action he does notice––but they quickly follow up, sounding a little embarrassed, as if unused to speaking to a blind man. “ Y–yeah. That’s me. You heard right. ”  

Matt smiles a little, more to himself than to his company.  “ Well, [ Y/N ], do you mind if I sit down? ”  

“ Go for it . . .. ”  It sounds more like a question, indicative of [ Y/N ]’s confusion. It is a weird question to ask. Who asks for permission to sit in his own house? But Matt is more thinking that he doesn’t want to give the little one reason to bolt. And they don’t. They stay right where they are ( heart rate rising ) as he lowers himself back onto the couch. 

An interesting conversation ensues. Matt has plenty of questions, and, as it turns out, the little one––borrower, as they call themselves––has some of their own. Matt learns that, while [ Y/N ] has seen him return at night in his uniform, they don’t really know who he’s supposed to be or what it’s for. It’s probably best they remain in the dark. As they talk, too, Matt notices that the borrower comes a little closer every few minutes. They seem to be just as curious about him as he is about them. He guesses he’s the first blind  " bean ”  they’ve encountered. He also seems to be the first one that hasn’t actively tried to catch and/or kill them. It’s a little upsetting to think about. 

“ Can I . . . feel you? ”  It’s another odd question. Even for him, it’s a strange one, but he’s still questioning himself on whether or not this encounter is real. The borrower stiffens, immediately nervous once more. Matt feels the awkward tension rise up. 

“ Uh . . . what do you, uh––why? ” 

Right. That’s answer enough. Matt leans back a little, as if to give [ Y/N ] some more space. Some guilt creeps into his conscience for even asking, considering how the borrower’s reacted to him thus far. While they’ve been amicable, he’s not oblivious to their constant, underlying fear. 

“ Never mind. Sorry––forget I asked. ”  Stupid. He mentally berates himself, but another sound reaches his ears, cutting him off. He frowns, head jerking sharply towards the door ( which startles the borrower; he’ll have to remember to keep his movements slower and smoother in the future ). 

“ Someone’s coming. You should probably––– ” 

But they’re already gone. Matt hears the rapid pitter-patter of little feet on the floors, and the following scrape against the wall as the outlet cover is moved aside. For a brief moment, his focus remains on [ Y/N ] as they move through the walls, but the knock at the door pulls him back to the situation at hand. It seems that Foggy is here. 

“ Matt. ”  The voice reaches him, but Matt doesn’t wake just yet. 

Foggy came over, and the two of them had conversation over a couple of beers. Some of it was business, and some of it wasn’t––a good mix of the two, really. Matt lost focus on [ Y/N ] shortly after they vanished into the wall, and hadn’t found them again after Foggy eventually left. Figuring they’d gone to sleep, as the hour was pretty late, he opted to do the same, and retired to his room for the night. 

Then he started to experience things. His nightmares are always so intimate, an assault on the senses. So many voices ( screams ), sensations, so much chaos–––

“ Matt! ”  There’s a tap to his nose that finally wakes the man. He breathes out sharply, wrenched from his bad dream. Sightless eyes blink in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling as he works to ground himself and get his breathing under control. It takes a couple of seconds for him to realize he isn’t alone. There’s a buzzing heartbeat within a small, warm little body just to the left of his head. 

“ [ Y/N ]? ”  While he isn’t super familiar with their specific heartbeat yet, Matt does recognize the little squeaks and yelps they make when startled. Those are unmistakable. He pushes against his mattress and moves himself a few inches to the right, giving himself and the borrower some room so he can safely sit himself up, elbow propped under his body for support. The way the mattress deforms under him jostles [ Y/N ], but they maintain their footing.

“ Are you okay? ” 

“ I–I think I, uh––I should be asking you that! You were yelling in your sleep! ”  There’s a quiver in their voice. They’re nervous––terrified, even. They’re much closer to Matt now than they were willing to get before. Hell––they touched him, flicked him hard enough on the nose to wake him up. 

“ I . . . was I? Sorry . . . ”  He must have woken them up, then. Matt sighs and drags a hand down his face, still exhausted, but awake for the time being. He can feel the borrower staring at him.  “ I’m okay. Just a bad dream. ”  

They don’t seem too convinced, but they take a step back regardless, likely ready to make their runaway. That doesn’t happen, though; when Matt pushes himself up further, their surprised yelp hits the air, and he feels a little weight fall onto the back of his hand. Immediately he freezes, not daring to move, lest he frighten [ Y/N ] further. It seems they have a similar idea, though perhaps their freeze is more fear-induced than anything else. 

“ . . . You can get up. I won’t move. ”  And they do get up after another moment, scurrying off of his hand ( with a little assistance ). He offers a soft apology. Much to his surprise, though, they don’t go very far. Already that hummingbird heartbeat is starting to slow. Once more, they’re silent, staring at him. Things are a bit awkward. Matt clears his throat. 

“ I’m, uh––I’m gonna go get some water from the kitchen. Do you . . . want anything? Or would you like to join me . . .? ”  

They don’t answer. Matt takes it as a no. He resumes getting up, off the bed, much slower this time. 

“ I could . . . use a snack, ”  comes the tiny voice, making Matt pause again. He glances back over his shoulder, senses picking up on [ Y/N ]’s minuscule form. Being their size, he imagines they must need to eat fairly often. 

“ Want me to carry you? ”  It’s just a suggestion. It’d be faster, more efficient, but Matt won’t push. 

“ I can manage. ”  Fair enough. The borrower approaches the bed’s edge and climbs down the sheets and covers, down to the floor, where Matt can hear their footsteps. He starts walking towards the kitchen, pace slowed a little, but still quick enough to keep well ahead of [ Y/N ]. Though the chances of him stepping on them are slim to none, it’s still a precaution he takes. 

Now, he’s sure he’s got some cereal in one of the cabinets that he thinks his new companion would like . . .