#two assignments that will take me all day and a mountain of laundry

[randomfingthings]

welppp i am on self-proclaimed (a self - verdict) house arrest 😔 i have procrastinated myself into yet again a problem.......

[smol-and-grumpy]

To Be Free - CH01

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Escaping and hiding away, that’s what she wants to do. Her parent’s remote cabin in the mountain sounds like the best place for it. There, she meets someone from her past — a green-eyed mountain man.

Chapter Warnings: A little back story, cheating (not Dean), language, threats being made, car accident

WC: 2481

Beta: @winchest09​ <3

A/N: So, this is the beginning of the Mountain Man!Dean AU. I hope you’ll like it!

Read ahead on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

The phone buzzes on the seat next to her. Again. 

It hasn’t stopped ringing since Y/N had gotten into the car and drove away. She’s so close to just throwing it out of the window but then again, the rational side of her brain tells her that she would endanger the automobiles around her on the highway, and she doesn’t really want to cause any damage, or accidents, if it can be avoided. 

“You’re a goody-goody.” Mick always used to say, “It’ll get you in trouble if you don’t toughen up.” 

Perhaps Mick was right. She probably was not made to work in that firm where she has to help fucking criminals. But then again, he made it seem so plausible and she can’t believe that she fell for it all. Y/N had fallen for the prestige, for the fame, and most of all, she had fallen for Mick, and that was the worst fucking mistake. 

The events of that night flash before her eyes once more. 

It’s 9 PM. Mick usually doesn’t have a reason to work so late unless he has a meeting with the mob family that they have under their wings. She never liked to go to their meetings, always found an excuse to opt out. The way the men always stare at her like she was a piece of meat rather than a woman with a brain, always sent a chill down her spine. 

When she stepped out of the elevator, the floor was dark. There’s only minimal light coming from the reception area that’s vacated at this time of the night. Y/N never liked to be here after hours but it’s the only place she thought she could find Mick. He didn’t pick up his phone when she called him which was highly unusual. Somehow, she was a little afraid of what she would find. It could be him just laughing and joking with the mobsters, but it could also have been him bruised and beaten beyond recognition because the Family wasn’t happy with his work, or it could be worse. He could be dead. Today was his birthday too and she even ordered catering for the both of them to enjoy at home. She guessed that she would have to pop the dishes into the microwave because by the time she decided to check here, it was already starting to turn cold.

Walking further along the hallway, she noticed that the lights in Mick’s office are still on and a sense of relief washed over her, while the sense of dread built up in the pit of her stomach at the same time. 

“Oh god, Mick.” 

There was a faint moan that carried through the hallway of the offices. It made her blood freeze, but it forced her to walk faster.

“Mmh,” she heard Mick humming. “Always so fucking tight for me, Eve. Such a good pussy.” 

“Better than Y/N, I’d hope.” 

Mick chuckled, “I’d rather you not talk about her while I fuck you. You know you’re my best girl, baby.”

The dread in Y/N’s stomach intensified and something began to churn inside of her. She had to clutch it so as not to just hurl out the whole contents into the next pot plant she could find. 

Eve was her friend. Her best friend since she moved into the city two years ago. She was even the one who helped Eve to get a job at her boyfriend’s firm. 

Well, not her boyfriend anymore, she guessed. 

She reached the door, fingers clutched around the frame for purchase as she took in the image before her. Eve was bent over the table, Mick half undressed, fucking into her from behind. 

He threw his head back as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he turned his head and their eyes met. 

For a brief second, she thought she saw a smirk twisting at his lips when he noticed her. He kept on pounding into Eve, though, his pace never faltered. 

Y/N retreated, tears pooled in her eyes and she moved on autopilot. Before she knew it, she found herself in her office, packing the things that she needed into her laptop bag. 

‘Stupid! So fucking stupid!’ she thought. She should have seen it. Why hadn’t she seen it? The red flags were always there. Mick always gave her assignments that would see her traveling all over the country for a long stretch of time. She would find receipts of hotels laying around in the apartment, or when she did laundry, but he always had a good reason. They hadn’t been intimate for a long time, too. Mick was always too tired and if he wasn’t then she would be. And if that happened, he would get out of bed and said that he needed a drink and was out of the apartment before she could even say anything. She was so engrossed in her work and too oblivious to what was going on, that she ignored all the warning signs. 

She was crying now, the tears not stopping. But it’s not over Mick. She would never cry over a man who had treated her like this. She cried for herself, for being dumb enough to let someone play her. 

Bending down to pack the remainder of her things, she opened her last drawer, revealing a little safe that was neatly tucked inside. Without hesitation, she punched in the combination and it sprang open. It contained a single USB stick. 

Picking it up, she clutched it in the palm of her hand. She had forgotten about the small device and now she knew why Mick kept her around. She was the only person who had a copy of the shady business his clients are doing, because she was involved as much as Mick. He was never going to give her up because if the information got leaked, he'd be taking the fall. 

There were footsteps along the hallway, the thumping sounds getting louder as someone rushed to her office and she quickly let the stick slip into her jean pocket. 

“What are you doing?” he asked too casually but with a bitter undertone, acting like he hadn’t just fucked her best friend. 

“What does it look like?” she snarled, patience wearing thin. “I quit. And don’t even come by my apartment anymore.”

He walked in further; his hair was ruffled and the buttons on his shirt were hastily done up, the material lopsided as he had fastened them wrong. She was so disgusted by his appearance.

Mick rubbed his hand over his chin, carefully thinking about his next words. “I need the USB stick before you leave.” 

She snorted. That’s typical. All he could think about is his fucking business. “I don’t have it.”

“Liar!”

“Oh, look who’s talking.” Maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t anger him but screw that.

“Y/N.” Mick rounded up around her desk and came to stand right before her. The scent of sex hit her nose in waves. It made her nauseous. “You’re going to get into so much trouble if they know that you have it and believe me, if you walk out of here, they will find out because I will tell them.”

“I’m not scared of those men.”

Mick laughed. Fucking laughed. 

“They’ll come for you, Y/N. Those men are not to be fucked with.” He was still chuckling when he said, “They will find you and they will kill you.”

She cocked her eyebrow, and maybe she should have been scared of Mick and his threats but she’s still got the upper hand. If she got to expose him first, she has bargaining leverage. Maybe she’d get to be in a witness protection program. By the time it hits the fan, she will hopefully be long gone. 

“I don’t have it,” she said again as she bumped her shoulder against his on her way out, shoving him to the side. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” Mick called after her, his voice echoing in the almost empty hallway. 

With her head held high, she descended the stairs, too impatient and not to say scared to wait for the elevator.

 The phone buzzed again after having only stopped for a short time. It actually hasn’t stopped ringing since she drove back to her apartment to pack her duffel with enough clothes that should last her for a couple of days. She wanted to get out of here, clear her head, think about what to do next. 

It’s after she stopped for gas that she remembered the remote cabin that belonged to her parents. They hadn’t been up there for a while as the health of her father was deteriorating but she knew where they kept the spare key, and it’s the only place she knew nobody would come looking for her because she hadn’t been with Mick long enough to let him in on the existence of the cabin, nor on the memories the place held.

Buying enough food that would last her a couple of days, she drove towards the foot of the mountain. 

It was February and the roads were icy as it had snowed just last night. She hoped that her car would have enough power to get her up there, as she didn’t have snow chains with her. Not that she knew how to put them on in the first place. If worse comes to worst, she’d have to abandon her car and hike up the last bit, which was totally fine with her too. Anything to get away from civilization.

As she made her way up the snowy road and rounded up the twelfth bend in the street (There were fourteen - she had counted them from the drive up there every winter), her phone buzzed again. 

She glanced over to the passenger seat to catch the caller ID. It could be her mother for all she knew and that one, she would pick up. Y/N would maybe tell her that she was on the way to the cabin so that they wouldn’t be too worried if they can’t get a hold of her, because the reception could be pretty spotty up there.

But no, it’s fucking Mick again. She rolled her eyes upon seeing the name flash on the screen before turning her gaze back to the snow-covered street in front of her, but it was already too late. Out of her periphery, she caught it. The deer that ran out of the woods, its eyes wide when it saw the headlights of her SUV. Her foot hit the break immediately, but it was too late. The car swerved on the icy ground and she hoped she didn’t hit the animal before her vision goes black.

  Dean was sitting in his recliner in the cabin while he enjoyed his glass of bourbon. It’s his downtime, one of his favorite pastimes, next to spending his days out with Stevie, his Bernese mountain dog.

He had been coming to this cabin since his early childhood, having only missed one Winter out of the many. There were times where he would only spend a week up here but also there were times where he would be there for the whole winter. It’s his favorite place, always has been. 

The cabin is not as big as the ones that surrounded it, but it’s enough. It has only one bedroom, yet it was cozy. He remembered back to when he was younger, when he and his younger brother would sleep on the fold-out couch while his parents took the bedroom. Sometimes if Sam was upset with him, Dean would spend the night on the rug in front of the fireplace instead, and it was the best thing. He almost felt bad for wanting to get into a fight with Sam more often so that his sibling wouldn’t look at him funny when he wanted to spend the night on the floor instead of on the worn-out couch.

Once his parents stopped their annual visit up there, and they wanted to sell the cabin, Dean had saved enough money to buy it from them. There were just too many memories tied to the little property, too many of them that he wasn’t willing to just forget. 

While he took a sip from his tumbler, Stevie lifted her head and twisted her ears. 

Dean noticed, and immediately reached down to pat the dog's head, “What's wrong, Stevie?” 

The dog ignored him to get up and walk over to the door, letting out a whine as her nails started to scratch at the wood. 

“Easy, girl,” he soothes the agitated dog. “You wanna go out for a walk again?” 

Stevie whined some more, her scratching becoming more frantic. 

“Right,” Dean sighed as he got out of his seat. He took his time to empty his tumbler before setting it down on the coffee table. “Let’s go then.” 

The snow had started to fall again as they got out of the cabin, and he ducked inside once more to grab his hat that’s hanging on the hook right behind the door. Stevie was not impressed that it was taking Dean so long to get ready and started to bark.

“Easy, Stevie,” he chuckled as her wet nose nuzzled against his palm. He reached down to scratch behind her ear, a motion that seemed to calm her down. “Good girl.” 

They made their way down the street. The old snow crunched underneath his boots. Fresh layers of the white powder would cover over it soon enough, erasing their prints when it settled. He thought about doing their usual nightly walk around the perimeter, wondering if maybe they’d see a deer or two. Stevie had a way with deer. They love to meet her and Dean’s always mesmerized by the unusual bond they had. Stevie was always good with other animals and people, the dog’s sense to protect everyone is highly admirable, and Dean really couldn’t wish for a better companion.

As they rounded up the second bend in the road, he saw the car. Its headlights were still on but the front was wrapped around a tree which was the only thing standing between the car and the abyss. It was not a strong pine and the wood was already creaking under the weight.

Stevie rushed forward and Dean followed suit. The tree was going to give in at any minute, he just knew and if he couldn’t save the car, maybe he would be able to save whoever was stuck in there.

Dean thankfully reached the vehicle in time, yanking the driver’s door open and the sight of the girl slumped over the steering wheel made his blood run colder than the icy road he was standing on. 

“Y/N?” 

CH02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

​

[tamagochiie]

Hi!! Could I request a hc for my man Levi Ackerman where he has been crushing on the reader for a while now but thinks he doesn’t really have a chance because she’s just so beautiful, kind and a little on the younger side. And he doesn’t really think that someone like her could ever be interested in someone like him. Then those toughts only get bigger as he sees how much time she spends with Jean or Eren or someone. And then some sort of drama is happening which eventually leads to this dramatic confession from both Levi and the reader. Hope that’s not too long? Have a great day!

First of all, I am SO sorry this request took so long to reply to. I was in a really bad headspace when I first got this, and I couldn’t write it properly at the time. But here I am now! Also, I got waaaay too into this, so I apologize that it’s a little long... 

Move My Mountain ; Levi Ackerman 

Levi Ackerman is nothing short of confidence and pride; insecurity scurries back into the shadows at the sight of him.

But you are sunshine and hope—all the good things in life wrapped in a lilting laugh, tucked in the corners of your lips when you smile, and the twinkling in your eyes;

Just the sight of you makes his title as “Humanity’s Strongest” fray at the edges and wither away, and it irritates him to no end. 

Of all the ugly his eyes have seen and horror his ears have heard, its you that has him weak in the knees, you are a sharp contrast to the stoic man.

You’re young, youthful, and promising—all the things Levi is not. 

Levi is many things, but worthy to feel the warmth you radiate as you walk into any room, a room that he might find himself lingering around in, is not one of them. 

Levi may be sharp, attentive, and quick on his feet (quite literally). But it takes him an embarrassingly substantial amount of time to realize his feelings for you—that no, he does not hate you, but rather he finds himself completely smitten over you.

He realizes he always has been since the first time he saw you as a cadet. You weren’t entirely talented, and your skills were questionably underdeveloped, but you had heart and you were just as determined and fiery as your counterparts. 

Levi looks forward to seeing you persevere during trainings; but he likes it better whenever you waltz into his office and assist him in paperwork he can clearly take care of on his own. 

And you find yourself feeling comfortable around the Captain, entertaining him through small talk or sharing a few fun facts with him that always leave him dumbfounded. 

Not that he’ll show it. 

He’s quite kind to you, and though you found it off-putting at first, you had eventually grown comfortable to it. You even found yourself growing selfish, wanting more and more after each visit. 

However, unbeknownst to everyone save for Erwin and Hange, Levi Ackerman is petty as he is incredibly violent. 

There’s a twinge of jealousy in his chest and a twitch in his eye whenever he sees Jean joined to you by the hip. He’s aware of the history you two share, being childhood friends and choosing to join the Survey Corp together after the attack on Wall Rose. 

But it doesn’t stop jealous seeping out of Levi like a waterfall. 

He hates it when he catches Jean ghosting around you, dipping down to you a little too close for comfort whenever he talks to you, so Levi’s patience snaps like a twig and he crinkles his nose in disgust, steam rising from him when he watches Jean throwing his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest while you laugh at his jokes. 

A line has been crossed. 

Unfortunately for Jean, though his actions meant no harm, he’s drowned in piles and piles of work within the following week. Levi has him carrying extra weight, makes him run more laps to his knees shake, and riddles him with questionable work from dusk til dawn. 

And just when things die down and the tide of Levi’s jealousy pulls back, it’ll come rushing back in when he catches Jean do another thing like leaning his head on your shoulder after a day’s worth of training. And it begins to bother you, picking at your skin until you can longer keep quiet and watch your friends suffer. 

You’re in the middle of handing Jean your bottle of water (because Sasha chugged all of his in one breath) when Levi cuts in. Maybe it’s the heat of the sun that casts over the training ground, or maybe its the fact that once again, Levi’s jealous has once again gotten the best of him and he’s playing it off as frustration for the whole squad. 

Whatever it is, there’s steam rising off as he glares at you and Jean. 

Levi clears his throat, arms folded across his chest as he taps his foot, “If you have time to drinking other people’s water, Kristien,” Jean chokes on his water when he realizes Levi’s presence, quickly saluting him, “then you’ve got time to do laundry.” 

Jean’s eyes widen, jaw slacking. “B-But I already did that yesterday, S-Sir.” You watch as Levi pulls his brows down, narrowing his gaze intensely as he strides up to Jean. He shifts uncomfortable under Levi’s inspecting eyes and clears his throat to try and gain some composure. 

“That’s the great thing about laundry,” Levi grits, “it always piles up, so why don’t you hurry the fuck up and fuck off.”

However, Levi’s plan to wedge you to apart because you offer yourself to help. 

You may be bubbly and full of life, and some may mistake your soft nature as someone naive and gullible, but you read the room easier than anyone. For the first time, Levi finds himself silenced; throat dried as if sawdust had been shoved into his throat, and he watches you saluting to him before excusing yourself along with Jean. 

Unluckily for you, you become the target of his boiling rage. He’s ticking like a clock, the countdown to another outburst lingering in the air. It’s your turn to be buried in the extra weight of chores and responsibilities, doing more laps and push ups than you can manage. But you never complain, not even once.

Not until Levi strips you and Jean from the opportunity to go out on an expedition and traded off for laundry. 

“I’ve had it!” You boom as you uncharacteristically lose composure, shoving the basket of dirty laundry to the side and causing Jean and Armin to flinch. “I’m gonna do laundry—laundry instead of joining the expedition? You’re kidding!” 

Levi had overworked you painfully til your knees shook and your head felt dizzy, and at some point you wondered if was still training you or if it had any ulterior motive.

“I’m only the barer of the news!” Armin defends, visibly shrinking as you slowly grow unhinged. 

“Then I’ll talk to him!” Jean steps in front of you, looking at you warningly as his chest heaves. “Jean, go away.” 

“No,” He’s firm, headset in stopping you. “Make no mistake, the man is short, but he’s scary as hell. You saw him when he beat the shit outta Eren.”

“I can take a punch,” You state dryly, “now move.” 

You place your arm on Jean’s shoulder, gripping it tightly before swiftly shoving him to the side, causing him to skid on the floor.

Determination drips from every step you take out the room and down the corridor. Your eyes directed towards one door and one door only. You wind past other captains and cadets, not bothering to even take a glance at them as you finally close in on Levi’s office. 

You storm in, not even thinking to knock. You’re met with wide eyes and looks of disbelief from Erwin, Hange, and Levi; they were in the middle of a meeting when you barged in. Erwin’s jaw slacks, his brows pull down as he looks at you quizzically, “Cadet—What are you—”

“You.” You seethes, breathing heavily as you glare at Levi. “Why am I assigned to do laundry instead of joining the expedition?” 

Hange and Erwin turn back to Levi with an alarmed expression painted on their face, as if they were only hearing this for the first time. “Surely, that’s not true,” Erwin chuckles lightly as he grips his hands on the armrest of the chair, shifting uncomfortably underneath the thick tension between you and Levi, “Levi, is this true?” 

“It might be.” He answers dryly, a bored expression in his dark eyes as he glares back at you, “But I’m sorry, am I supposed to be answering to you? Who the fuck do you think you are interrupting a meeting?” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Your new found confidence not only shocks them, but most importantly you. 

You always kept yourself in your place, never needing to be reminded who you are and what you’re meant to do, always biting your tongue and cheek when you’re angry. You never caused any trouble, but always slyly getting your friends out of it. 

That is, until now. 

“Excuse me?” Levi looks at you in bewilderment. 

“What the fuck does doing laundry have anything to do with saving humanity?” You repeated, balling your fists till your knuckles color white. “I’m one of the best and you know it, yet I’m wasting my time cleaning Reiner’s DIRTY UNDERWEAR EVERY DAY.”

“Bold of you to assume you’re one of the best.” Levi is cold as the first winter of the year, looking completely unfazed by flow of your emotions. But you are, indeed, one of the best, nearly surpassing Mikasa. 

Not that he’d ever admit to it.

“Why am I staying behind?” You press, raising your voice as you take a few steps closer to the desk. 

Unfortunately, Hange and Erwin stay in the crossfire of your argument. They’re unsure when to take the beat to get up and leave.

They worry they missed that opportunity a while ago. 

“It’s dangerous and you’re not ready,” Levi clips. 

“I’m ready and you’re just taking your anger out on me!” You counter, “You don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been taking your anger out on Jean and now on me?” 

“You made us work to the bone, but we persevered. We pulled through. So, if I can handle Reiner’s sweaty laundry, then I can handle saving humanity. Grow a pair and let me back in on the expedition.” 

“No.” Levi is stern, the grip in his pen is tight and his knees locked in as his ability to stabilize his emotions withers. 

“Why not?” You groan, throwing your head back. “Because it’s dangerous.” He states matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“WHY DO YOU CARE IF ITS SO DANGEROUS?” You’re yelling, breaths labored and chest constricting as your frustration grows. You’re completely unhinged and with little to no care in the world how you look like to everyone in the room. Levi bangs his fists against the surface of his desk, swiftly standing from his chair. Erwin and Hange flinch at his sudden aggression, exchanging looks of surprise. 

“BECAUSE IF SOMETHING WERE TO HAPPEN TO YOU, I WOULDN’T KNOW WHAT I WOUDL DO.” 

Silence falls on the room and after a moment, everyone stands on their toes as they reflect the confession that slips Levi’s lips just moments ago. 

You, Hange, and Erwin look at Levi wish a slack jaw and a puzzled expression. 

“I don’t—“ You swallow thickly and take a deep breath, “I don’t understand what you mean… Why would you—”

“Hange,” Erwin calls out to his friend softly as he clasps his hands together, “I think this is the part where we leave.” 

Hange pouts her lip begrudgingly, “But—“ 

“Now.” Against her will and her wishes for juicy gossip, Hange mirrors Erwin’s actions as he rises from the chair and a hunched position and swiftly scurries out the room. 

You and Levi stand in a thick blanket of silence. Levi is a man of many words, though most are painted in aggressive and backs up his violent tendencies, so he admits his worries about someone and that someone being you, it means everything. 

It comes as a shock—a shock that feels electric and runs down your spine, you feel like you’ll lose your breath. “Why…why would you care?” You come down from your anger and the thumping of your heart calms down. “I don’t—I really don’t understand….” 

Levi licks his lips as he loosens his grip; for the first time you can see him clearly without having to second guess it. He shudders a breath as takes a step back from his desk, the chair scrapping against the floor as he abandons the paperwork and slowly yet surely walks to you. 

You grow tense and the budding anticipation in your stomach spreads through your body and up your throat. It’s only until Levi is a few steps away that you finally tear your eyes from him, dancing around the room desperately looking anywhere but him.

Levi halts his movement, only within an arm’s reach away from you. “I’m not good with words,” He admits in a mutter, more to himself than to you, “but I—I would like to be honest because you make me want to be honest.” 

Levi’s gaze wavers along with the rest of him; his arms fall limp , his hands clammy as he twiddles his fingers to ease the fear hammering in his chest. “I have…” Levi speaks softly, a sharp contrast to how he usually his. His voice comes out dry and gravelly as if he had just woken up. 

“I can easily read others as if I was looking at the back of my hand, and I know  when people feel things…But it took me forever to understand what I felt for you and when I finally caught up with it, I didn’t—I don’t know.” 

Hesitantly, as if you were scared to see something contradicting his words, you meet his eyes and you gasp. He’s looking right at you, eyes full of certainty yet wavering in his doubt that he’ll ever get a chance with you.

“What do you mean?” Your words come out so quiet, Levi almost misses it. “What don’t you understand?” 

“Out of all the things I’ve seen and heard, and all the blood my hands have been stained in, you move me.” 

He steps a little closer and you find yourself holding your breath, “You move me.”  

You don’t know what to say. You scan through your memories, all the ones that you had with him and try to remember what you felt. And maybe you did feel something for him, something more than just cadet and captain, but you never let yourself think too far from it. 

You were scared to let yourself fall, but for some odd reason, Humanity’s Strongest was letting him fall on his knees for you.  

You can’t help but smile and your eyes glistening as you take the final step to close the proximity between the two of you. “

If you’re saying what I think you’re saying then,” You sigh as you close your eyes, your breath fanning against Levi’s cheeks, “don’t be shy to move a little more and show me what you mean.”

 Levi’s takes a moment, studying the look in your eyes as he calculates his movements. He feels excited, but fear pulls the rug beneath his feet and all of a sudden he finds himself more scared of you than any mission he’s even been in. 

You hold his face in your hands, smiling at him. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now.” 

And just like that, your words egg him on and have him pushing all his doubt behind him.

 Levi’s lips are soft against yours, the kiss is gentle yet eager to go deeper. He’s reluctant to cage you in his arms, but when he feels you smile against his lips and how your arms wind around his neck, he realizes he’s eases in. 

Levi Ackerman has seen all the uglies in the word, and had his heartbroken one too many times to count, but you are the only one that moves him. 

[sithsecrets]

five intimate moments | din djarin x reader

A chronicle of five moments that shaped the Mandalorian’s relationship with his one and only crew member.

---

3.5 k words

Mentions: illness, hallucinations induced by a high fever, minor injury to the reader character, NO SMUT!

(This is my first attempt at a Mando fic so please have mercy!!!)

---

1.

When the Mandalorian says he wants to hire you as his first and only crew member, you’re taken aback to say the least. Your first impulse is to laugh and tell him that his joke is very funny, because what else could an offer like that be from a man like him? He’s entirely self-sufficient from the look of things, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the credits to buy services from others when he needs them. But one long look into the darkness of that visor tells you at once that what Mando’s said is no jest, tells you that he’s serious.

He tells you that he’ll cut you in ten percent if you help him out a little bit. It’s standard stuff, really, just ship repairs, navigation, and taking care of the baby. You’ve learned a lot under Peli over the last several years, you’ve definitely sat in the pilot’s chair a time or two, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Mando’s weird little baby— so why not? Working for him would get you off this planet, and it would be a change of pace for sure.

Doubt sets in the night before you’re set to go off with the Mandalorian, though Peli waves your feelings off pretty readily.

“You’re being stupid,” she tells you bluntly. “He’s a Mandalorian. Just do as you’re told, help him with the kid, and let him keep to himself if he wants to. Everything’ll be fine.”

Peli’s words are of some comfort, though anxiety is still fluttering in your gut the next morning. You say your goodbyes to your mentor and the droids, and then you’re flying off in the Razor Crest on the way to somewhere.

The first day is strange as you try to pick your way around your new home, and you spend much of your time feeling as though you’re snooping around in someone else’s space. The Mandalorian is just as quiet as you thought he’d be, clanging around in his armor doing this and that while you try to make yourself busy. You run out of tasks quickly, however, and it makes you skin itch to sit idle like this.

You watch for nearly an hour as Mando fiddles with the mechanics in one of his arm guards, cursing under his breath through the modulator as he picks at this and that. You think you know what the problem is, but you’re not sure you’re brave enough to tell him that. Finally, though, you can’t let him struggle anymore.

“Let me see,” you declare, cringing as you realize your tone was more commanding than you’d meant for it to be. But Mando says nothing to this, letting you take hold of his arm without uttering so much as a sound. Just as you thought, there’s an issue farther up the guard, one he’d overlooked. A little soldering here, a change of wires there, and then the thing’s good as new again.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian says, and you can feel his eyes on you through the visor.

“It’s what you hired me for.” You laugh nervously then, suddenly shy under the attention. “Gotta show you I’m not completely useless somehow, right?”

The Mandalorian stands, headed for the ladder on the other side of the room.

“Don’t call yourself useless.”

This is said without so much as a glance over his shoulder, and you find yourself rushing to explain for no apparent reason.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did.” The Mandalorian pauses with one foot on the first rung, finally turning to look at you now. “You’re not useless.”

 2.

The Razor Crest’s interior, in the grand tradition of spaces owned and maintained by single men, is in desperate need of a tune-up. There’s a bit of clutter here and there, and the walls and surfaces and well, everything else could do with a good scrubbing. It’s a big project to say the least, but you think you can tackle it given enough time and supplies.

The perfect window for such an undertaking opens up just a few days after the idea strikes you. Mando’s got another assignment, and it’s brought you to a relatively safe planet nearer to the Outer Core. He’ll be gone a few days, or so he says, and you know already that the market in town will be the perfect place to get what you need.

You set about your task the same day the Mandalorian leaves to set about his, the baby secured to your chest in a makeshift sling. It’s a good thing you brought him, too, because his charm helps you score several bargains along the way.

Organizing everything takes almost a whole day by itself, but after that, the cleaning is easy. You scrub and dust and mop until everything sparkles, and then it’s time to do laundry and see if you can make some functioning garments out of the scraps you find in Mando’s small closet. The clothes he wears aren’t rags by any means, but a little patching here and mending there gives him two more shirts and another pair of pants to work with.

It takes two more days for Mando to come home after you’re done, and he notes the changes immediately. He stops dead in the little hall between the main hull and the place where he keeps his carbonite-contained quarries, looking to the left and then to the right very slowly. You can’t tell if he likes what you’ve done at first, his expression obscured by that damn helmet like it always is.

“I didn’t touch your weapons,” you declare, holding up your hands as if to ward off whatever anger Mando’s about to level at you. But he doesn’t get upset, doesn’t cuss or ask you what the hell your were thinking, so you think it’s safe to go on.

“I scrubbed the whole interior, organized some of the stuff you had laying around, and made myself a better place to sleep.”

You gesture to the pallet you’ve made for yourself on the floor, proud of how you’ve managed to tuck it out of the way. That was the problem with your old spot— Mando had to step around you a lot, and it was becoming impractical. This new space comfortable, too, plush thanks to some cushions and blankets you managed to score in the market. You even have pillows now, but this is something you delight in privately.

The Mandalorian stands silently before you, and you prattle on, showing him this and that.

“I got the baby a couple of outfits to wear, one for colder weather and one for warmer weather. I mended some of your old clothes and washed everything that was here, so that’s done.” You shut the door to the little wardrobe and go to Mando’s bunk, pushing the button so he can see inside. “The woman that sells upholstered goods in the market really liked the Child, so she gave me a great deal. I managed to get you a decent mattress, or something close to it, and a couple of new pillows. She fixed up your old quilt for me too, so I hope it’s warmer now…”

You trail off, words escaping you under the intensity of Mando’s gaze. He’s staring you down properly now, the visor trained right on your face.

“Why did you do all of this?” he asks, gesturing to his bunk, the wardrobe. The thought crosses your mind that perhaps you should have asked before you messed with his things, his sleeping space, and a wave of something not unlike embarrassment sweeps over you.

“I— Mando, I’m sorry, I should have—”

But the Mandalorian still isn’t cross, cutting you off before you can finish apologizing. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is… This is…” He stares at his bed for a long moment, searching for his words. “Thank you.”

Something about the way he says it makes your stomach flutter, though you can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

 3.

The cough is innocuous enough when it starts, just a tickle in the back of your throat that comes on one afternoon. You brush it off as allergies, even telling Mando you’re fine when he asks about it that night.

Two days later, you’re bedridden.

Mando insists you’re absolutely burning up even as you shiver and shake beneath a virtual mountain of blankets, so cold that you think you’ll never be warm again. He forces you to sip on broth and water, though it all settles like sludge in your stomach. It must be bad, whatever you have— you must look bad— because the Mandalorian’s façade is slipping. He’s having full-blown conversations with the baby now, asking the little green infant if he thinks it’s a good idea to cut this hunt short, if he thinks you can be left alone for even just a few hours while he collects the last quarry. And though your body is aching, though you can practically feel the fever cooking your brain at this point, you tell him to finish the job. He made an agreement, and you know it’ll kill Mando not to honor it— you’ll be fine by yourself.

The two of you touch down on some planet in the Outer Rim, and then Mando’s practically running out of the ship. He promises to be back within the day, the sincerity in his voice managing to pierce the haze clouding your mind, and the ache in your bones makes you hope he means it.

Sometime later, you begin to hear a voice coming from the ‘fresher, one that taunts and teases you. It speaks nonsense on and off, but the clearer messages are frightening nonetheless. The voice says that Mando’s not coming back, that he’s left you here forever. Why else would he have taken the baby, hm? He doesn’t care for you, he’s not going to help you.

“Yes, he is,” you retort weakly, becoming more and more upset with each passing hour as this faceless thing continues to fill your head with words and threats. Somewhere in the very back of your fever-addled brain, you know that none of this is real, that all of this is a fever dream. But still, you weep and twist in your bed, scared that the Mandalorian really has abandoned you.

True to his word, though, Mando’s back in record time. You cry out for him the minute you hear footsteps inside the ship, and even the quarry grows quiet at the sound of your voice. Things are hazy after that, but you know that Mando comes to you after just a few minutes, promising over and over again that you’ll be better soon.

You and the Mandalorian and the baby fly somewhere together, this much you know, and Mando comes to sit on the floor with you once the Crest is in hyperspace.

“We’ll be there soon,” he tells you, voice tense and nervous through the modulator. He shushes you when you become upset all over again, emotions stirred by more taunting from the voice in the ‘fresher.

“Make it stop,” you cry, so very weak, “please make it stop. It’s so mean, Mando.”

“Hey, hey,” the Mandalorian cuts, pressing a gloved hand to your forehead. “Nothing can hurt you while I’m here, I won’t let it. I’ll stay right here until we get you to a doctor, I promise.”

And that’s enough to calm you for a few hours, it’s enough to help you fall asleep. You only wake again when you feel arms around your body, when the plushness of your mattress is no longer underneath you.

“Come on,” Mando says, talking to himself as much as he’s talking to you. “The medic will fix this. He’ll fix this, and everything will be fine.”

The medic the Mandalorian takes you to does fix this, but things are touch and go for a few hours there. Your fever breaks in just a couple of hours, thank the Maker, but you’re still very weak from being so sick for so long. You spend two days confined to a medbay bed before you’re deemed well enough to be discharged, and even then, it takes about a week before you’re truly feeling like yourself again.

It’s not until much later that you realize Mando never left your bedside once, and not for the first time do you find yourself wondering what something like that means coming from a man like him.

4.

Mando’s been gone nearly two weeks, and the baby’s beginning to lose it just the slightest bit. He doesn’t talk, of course, not in a way you can understand, but you know he misses his father. If the Child isn’t in a sour mood, he cries, and you’ve caught him playing in Mando’s clothes more than once. It’s stressful, taking care of the baby when he’s like this, but you understand how he feels. You feel strange and almost embarrassed to admit it, but you miss the Mandalorian too. The rational part of you knows it would be best to chalk it up to proximity, but you know in your heart that it’s a little more than that. But just because you know this doesn’t mean you accept it, and you tamp down the feeling at every turn, focusing instead on getting the Child through this rough period.

At the sixteen-day mark, the baby refuses to sleep in his pram entirely, insisting instead that Mando’s bunk will do much better. And you would be fine with that, all things considered, if he wasn’t insistent that you climb in there with him as well.

“Bug, I know you want Mando to come home, and I know you like sleeping with me when he’s not here, but I’m not getting in there with you.”

The baby makes a most discontent noise, pulling on your fingers so hard that he tumbles back onto Mando’s mattress when he lets go. You tell him once again that you won’t be invading his father’s space like that, and then the Child is crying, sobbing so hard his little shoulders shake beneath his baggy outfit. I’m too tired for this, you think to yourself, and you finally give the baby what he wants.

“Alright, alright,” you acquiesce, climbing up into the bunk with a sigh. “But we’re not telling him about this.”

The Child is soothed at once, snuggling down beside you in Mando’s blankets as if he was never upset in the first place. You lie beside him in the dark, eyes already growing heavy as you breathe in the scent of the covers around you, the scent of the pillow beneath your head. All at once, you realize that this is what Mando probably smells like under all the armor and the weapons. Something about that only serves to make this whole thing feel even more like a violation, but you force that thought out of your mind.

At some point, you do drift off, only the be woken hours later by the feeling of a hand on your ankle. And there the Mandalorian is, standing before you in the flesh (and beskar) after all those days away.

“You’re in my bed,” he says to you, though there’s no edge to the words. It’s a simple statement of fact, a plain observation.

“We missed you,” is all you have to say in explanation, though it takes you about three seconds too long to realize which pronoun you chose to throw out in the front there. Now properly awake, you go to cover the mistake, but Mando cuts you off as he is so wont to do.

“I missed you too,” he says slowly, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Both of you.”

5.

You realize that Nevarro may not be as safe as you thought about three seconds after a man with a vibroblade demands you hand over all the credits you have. You try to flee on impulse, your mind focused on protecting the baby—

Right up until the man catches your shirt, using the natural momentum of the action to propel you right into his clenched fist. Searing hot pain blooms behind your eye, spreading across the entire side of your face and into your nose. You’re completely stunned, unable to so much as form a coherent thought as your attacker moves to hit you again.

It’s like everything happens in slow-motion after that. One minute, your assailant is bearing down on you with murder in his eyes— the next, he’s grimacing, falling to the ground with thud. Two voices urge you to follow them now, and there are hands on your shoulders, your back. You’re so disoriented that it takes you a moment to realize that there are two fucking Mandalorians in your face, but when you do, the urge to fight back leaves you immediately.

Neither Mando is your Mandalorian, but you follow them anyway. They usher you into a tunnel system beneath the city, telling you to turn this way and that, and you do as they say without question. For some reason, they know you— they know your name, and they certainly know the baby because they ask about him the moment the lot of you are concealed. About a thousand questions swim around in your mind as you follow the Mandalorians deeper and deeper into the tunnels, but you aren’t given a chance to ask a single one.

Finally, you’re allowed to stop in a smith of some sort, coming to stand before a Mandalorian woman sheathed in maroon and gold. She regards you for a long moment, pausing over her work to take in the sight of your face, the way you clutch the baby protectively against your chest.

“Fetch him,” is all that she says, speaking to one of your saviors, and they turn and leave without a word.

A period of time elapses before you hear movement in the hall, though you can’t be sure how long. What you are sure of, though, is that you hear Mando’s voice drawing near, and the wave of relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You’re safe here, of course— anyone would be, surrounded by this many Mandalorians— but… but they’re not him.

“What happened?”

It’s the first thing Mando says to you, picking up the pace once he lays eyes on your injuries. You’re taken aback by how he crowds you, how he lets his gloved hands linger on your cheek.

“She was attacked by a chakaar,” says the Armorer, speaking from workspace. “He will not be bothering anyone again, though.”

Mando is satisfied by this, thanking his brothers and sisters for protecting you and his child. You thank them as well, though it’s hard to tell if the sentiment lands with the Mandalorians. The Armorer is the only one who responds at all, saying, “You are our brother’s cyar’ika,” she explains, confusing you with a word you don’t recognize, “we as his brothers and sisters must protect you. This is the Way.”

“The is the Way,” intones the group, and then you’re being ushered from the room, tucked under Mando— your Mando’s— arm.

The walk back to the ship is a quiet one, though the Child coos happily. He seems largely unaffected by all of this, even dozing off in his pram as though he’s had an uneventful afternoon. You’re glad he’s asleep, knowing it’ll give you and Mando some time to talk. You want to ask him about what the Armorer said, what that word meant. Mando’s cyar… cyar’ika? Is that what she’d called you?

But you don’t get the chance to speak a word, because Mando crushes you against him the moment you get the baby settled. His arms are strong around your back, the sensation of being held by him effectively knocking the air from your lungs. When he finally lets you go, every question you had stuffed in your mind is gone.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” the Mandalorian says to you, sounding more distraught than you ever thought possible. You shake your head at that— how could he possibly have known?

“I’m fine, Mando,” you press. “Don’t worry about my face, it’s—”

“I should have been there.”

The both of you just look at one another after that, and the Mandalorian doesn’t flinch away when you lay your hand on the side of his helmet. You know at once that everything is different now, but you need to hear it just to be sure.

“That woman—”

“The Armorer,” Mando corrects.

“The Armorer,” you begin again, speaking slowly and deliberately. “What did she mean when she said what she said about me? What is a cyar… cyar’ika?”

Mando’s hand comes up, and his glove is cool on your uninjured cheek.

“’Beloved,’” he says softly, “’cyar’ika’ means ‘beloved.’”

You think your heart’s going to beat right out of your chest, but you force yourself not to be calm.

“If you’re going to call me your cyar’ika,” you whisper, afraid you’ll shout if you don’t, “then what should I call you?”

“Din. You can call me Din.”

[mrwinterr]

Who Do You Love?

Pairing: David Budd x Female Reader

Summary: After some months that David’s been working for the Home Secretary, you notice he’s been acting differently. Not wanting to overanalyze the situation, the signs are just too hard to ignore, so when it’s time to confront him there’s only one real question to ask.

Warnings: Bodyguard (2018) TV series spoilers! Adult themes. Explicit language. Light smut. Infidelity/cheating. Mentions of war, PTSD, political assassination, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, paranoia, and attempted suicide. Sad vibes, probably. We’re not gonna have a good time.

Disclaimer: This piece goes hand-in-hand with All For You. It’s not required to read beforehand, but it would be nice. As far as the TV series, yeah, don’t even read these if you’re still planning to watch the show. If you don’t care, you may proceed.

Title Inspiration: “Who Do You Love?” by The Chainsmokers ft. 5 Seconds of Summer

A/N: I want a happy David, I really do, but I’m a heartless writer. I took a break from the smut, so it’s not a huge bulk of the fic this time. I hope y’all still like it! Happy New Year! 

Another night alone was not unusual for you as of late, having grown accustomed to it ever since David had taken up the job of protecting Home Secretary, Julia Montague. Neither you nor David could’ve foreseen his courageous efforts in neutralizing the terrorist attack on the train back home would thrust him into his new position, furthermore the extent of its outcome in his personal life.

It wasn’t a hidden secret that David resented most politicians, and you knew of Julia from the news and her political ambitions in pushing a bill to increase security surveillance. David’s job put a big emphasis on confidentiality, so for his superiors to throw him into a public political warzone was a bit suspicious to you. There was something that didn’t add up, and you couldn’t just outright ask David whose side he was on in all this.

After neglecting the mountain of dirty laundry, tonight was dedicated to the domestic chore. It was nothing out of the ordinary mixing your batch with David’s, but he had a habit of leaving things in his clothes pockets, so it was routine for you to check everyone. You’d moved onto one of the costly tailored button-ups he wore to work and feel something protruding from the shirt pocket. You dig your hand in and fish out a tube of lipstick. Strange. You didn’t use this brand of cosmetics, and even more so the garment smelt different.

Under normal circumstances, this type of discovery would raise a red flag, but you recall one of David’s first days on the job as her bodyguard, the intern had clumsily spilt Julia’s coffee all over her outfit just before she was about to do a live interview, and David had offered her the shirt off his back, essentially saving the day. The man was just too dedicated to his job sometimes, so you shrug it off, but this wouldn’t be the first time you would notice something out of place.

It really started after the first assassination attempt that was made on Julia’s life. With the rate she was going at, her political status had made her a prime target to those opposed to RIPA-18. It was very frightening, you figured that much for her, David had seen worse in war. You just about had a heart attack when you reunited with him that night, the blood still stained on his clothes and missed splotches on his skin.

The both of you clung onto each other all night, lost within the throes of passion. It might as well have been one of the most intense nights yet, even then you could tell something changed by his movements. You didn’t think much about it at first because there’s already so much wrong with him, you’ve yet to learn all his mood swings.

Then one day you’d gotten sick, and discovered it was because you were pregnant with David’s child. One of the few things that made you forget about all the aches and pains that David unintentionally caused, was remembering the beautiful smile on his face when you revealed the news to him. You knew how much happiness Ella and Charlie brought him, you could only imagine what that would feel like, your own family with David.

He was so overjoyed in the beginning. He had quickly phoned his mother, who’d visited and even stayed a few days with you when David’s new position became more demanding of him, claiming she was worried about you being alone. You didn’t deserve to experience this alone, but it was sure heading that way.

Lately, you’ve found yourself occupying the Budd household quite more than often when David’s mom went back home. With David being on duty almost 24/7, you were completely alone, so the little family welcomed you.

Legally, on paper, David was still married to Vicky. It was something you weren't going to verbally admit bothered you, but oddly enough it did. What with the mood you’ve been in as of late, it ate at a part of you. They were separated and the divorce papers were well on track until David’s “promotion” paused the process.

There’s still not a hostile fiber in you towards Vicky. She’d moved on well, been on several dates with someone else, and things were looking great for her. It was lowkey, not even David knew about it, not that he even stuck around or bothered to care. It had to come out eventually because it would affect Ella and Charlie’s lives.

You watch as Vicky rounds the table after placing a cup of tea in front of you then sitting in the seat across and asking how you’re holding up.

You contemplate for a split second if you should be honest or not, but who else could you confine to at the moment? No one else could possibly understand. Vicky herself may not even, but she knew David more than most people did, so surely, she could see where you’re coming from to some degree, right?

Letting out a big sigh, you answer her truthfully, “I’m...not well, Vicky,” your eyes drop down to the cup in front of you, finger tracing the rim, the hot cloud of smoke of the concoction almost burns your skin.  

“Oh, poor thing,” she says, extending her hand over to place it on top of your other one on the table, “it’s the pregnancy. It has to be. It’s taking a toll on you. I can tell.” You look up at her and almost want to cry. No one noticed it was more than symptoms of pregnancy. You were bottling up so much.  

“Let me tell you, while I love Ella and Charlie, pregnancy was not a breeze…” she started to ramble, but you quickly cut her off, exhausted of people telling you the same thing over and over, unintentionally, blaming the innocent baby.

“No. I don’t think it’s that. I don’t want to blame anything on the pregnancy,” you say straight up. You got yourself into this mess, you went headfirst knowing the baggage David came with and you knew full well that protection wasn’t at the forefront in the affairs. Ready or not, you both went in this together and brought a baby into the picture.

Vicky stares, confused, but still genuinely concerned, “then what else could be wrong?” When you didn't immediately respond, she knew it had to be one other thing, or person, and you just didn’t want to admit, well out loud, “David?”

You only nod; you knew you were going to have to face the music sooner or later. So, you start listing things you’ve observed that have caused you to grow suspicious over the course of the last few months. You just hoped you didn’t sound like a mad woman in front of her.

The one time your phone had died, and he let you use his to place a food delivery. You couldn’t unlock his phone, trying every possible combined set of numbers close to David, only to come to a conclusion that the access code had changed. Visibly distressed, he realizes you were attempting to unlock his work phone. You knew that was his though. What work phone?

You didn’t even know he had one of those, let alone why did it have the same crack on the screen in the exact same spot as his personal one? You feigned stupidity and blamed it on exhaustion. Deep down David knew you were suspecting something was up, and he ended up placing the order for dinner that night himself.

The other time you confronted David about coming home smelling heavily of another woman. Whatever, whoever, her perfume was strong, and it made you nauseous. The pregnancy didn’t even do you any favors on this one with your senses heightened and overly sensitive.

Of course, he smelled of another woman, the person he was assigned to protect. You could see all the holes in his alibi. He was lying, and it hurt most when he indirectly admitted your mood swings were irritating him and then flipped it all on you, saying you were overthinking the situation and getting all paranoid for no reason. Accused you of not trusting him, when truth was you had the utmost faith in him, but not when the evidence was piling up.

There’s a solemn look that washed over Vicky’s face. She had expected more tales of David’s PTSD, but none of what you spilled alluded to it. This time David couldn’t blame the effects of war on your suspicions. However, Vicky knew that this was you and David, and if there was a pair that could survive love’s tumultuous doings then it was you two.

“There’s a lot of coincidences, yes, but this is you and David,” she says, grasping your hand for support because she could see the moisture in your eyes building up, “is it silly of me to admit I was always jealous of you,” she confesses, trying to steer the conversation a different route.

She didn’t want you to think she was brushing off your worries, but to remind you that everything you and David had been through to get to this point to be together, whatever you both were dealing now wasn’t anything you two couldn’t overcome. There were high hopes for you and David in Vicky’s mind.  

A small smile cracks your face, and you bring your vacant hand up to dab at the inner corner of your eyes, just before the tears start to race down, “jealous? Of what?” It was almost shocking to think you had something she was jealous of.  

“Every time you visited us,” she starts, “I could tell David held so much admiration for you,” and you know she’s not trying to hurt your feelings, but it’s taking a bit to figure out where she’s going with this.

“That’s silly,” you scoff lightly, “you both got married and had two kids, surely there was no doubt,” then bring the cup up to your lips for a small sip.  

“But there was and look where we ended up?” she says. Your lips cave in to form a tight line in response, and carefully place the cup back down on the dish, before she follows up, “you two are finally together.”

“Vicky,” you pipe up, not knowing where to begin. It was never your intention to steal David’s heart away from another.

“I’m not saying any of this because I’m mad at you. No. I’ve never truly hated you. You’re a good person and you’re finally getting your happily ever after. Don’t ever stop fighting for it,” she comes out wholeheartedly, and this time you make no attempt to keep the tears at bay. It stung to hold them back anyways.

Vicky gets up from her seat, walking the short steps to yours, to wrap her arounds around you. You immediately cling onto her arms and just cry, finally letting everything out.

“Seriously, don’t think of the worst,” she starts advising, while rubbing your back, “David will always come back to you,” she pulls you away from her before reminding you, “you knew going into this wasn’t going to be easy.”  

You feel so pathetic. What she said was completely true, you just didn’t think it’d be this bad. There’s no doubt you love David and want to be with him through the good, the bad, and the ugly, so you nod and try to keep your chin up. It wasn’t to appease her, you were going to get back up, because if not for David, then for the baby.

Suddenly, the front door busts open and Ella and Charlie are bustling into the kitchen, where you and Vicky were. Quickly wiping away the tears, you both noted that school had just let out.

They were ecstatic to see you, especially Charlie as he had currently been experiencing issues of his own adjusting to school. They lifted your spirits greatly; they were more fascinated by the baby growing in you and couldn’t wait to meet him or her. You absolutely adored them. They looked like David and the whole time they were talking your ear off; you wonder to yourself if your own kid will look more like you or David. 

David’s thrusts were deep and good; you made no attempt to hold it in, letting him know exactly how he was making you feel. Nails digging into his firm buttocks, pulling him closer to you, wanting him to just keep going and going; the chase proving to be almost just as good as the climax. You feel one of his hands run up your side and his large hand starts groping your breast, adding onto the pleasure he was plaguing your body with, while the other held onto the small of you back, bringing your hips up to his.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, you could feel his hot breath fanning against your skin and hear his murmured swears and praises. The air in the room was thick, and for the majority of the intimate activity, the only sounds that travelled around the apartment consisted of heavy breathing, moans, gasps, whines and skin slapping, until the annoying distinct ringtone started screeching from a few feet away.

You’d learned to distinguish his work alarm since the supposed mix-up, and it pinged constantly, agitating you. David’s pace notably falters, and the rhythm you’d both built started dwindling, the needy side of you started to panic because he was going to stop and you desperately wanted to come, even more so come with him, but it looked like neither of you would be as you feel one of David’s hands leave your body and make an attempt to reach out to the device.

You grab a hold of his wandering hand and lace your fingers together, hoping to keep him close and forget about the alert. You buck your hips forward, urging him to continue. His grip tightens and cock twitches inside of you in response. Your strategy almost deems successful when he picks up momentum, each swivel of his cock gradually bringing out the starved woman in you. Not to mention, your sex drive had heightened too, you’d longed and craved any affection he could give you.

“David, baby…” you whine, holding a hand to his face, forcing him to keep his gaze on you and only you, the ringtone almost drowning out, “...don’t. Don’t. Fucking. Stop...please,” you resort to begging and hook a leg over his body, the new angle allowing him to thrust deeper.

And just when you’re about to tip over the edge, the incessant ringing persists, and David’s halt unintentionally pulls you back down. He unwinds your sweaty clasped hands, no doubt in search of the phone once more, however, you had more leverage than he did, and your hand beats his hand to it. He wasn’t that far behind as his hand covers yours, and he tries to grab the phone to answer the call, but instead you swat it off the nightstand.  

“What the fuck?” David says aggravatedly, while attempting to reach his phone on the ground, all while he’s still inside of you, pressing your body deeper into the mattress, but careful to not crush you.

“No, fuck you, David,” you spit back, and shove his body off of yours. You scoot over to one side of the bed and try to level your breathing. You were both so close!

“What is wrong with you?” He asks, forgetting the phone on the ground.

“Do you really have to answer that?” You ask, attitude on full display.

“It could be an emergency at work,” he tries reasoning.

“You’re not on the clock, David!” You dispute, sitting up, clutching the sheets to your body to conceal yourself.

“That’s not the point! It could’ve been serious. Julia could be hurt,” he says, the words just coming out of his mouth, giving each excuse little thought. His mind was in a frenzy and you didn’t miss a single syllable.  

“You called her Julia,” you say just above a whisper, and suddenly you have an urge to vomit, but you do your best to control it.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what that meant at all to you.

It hurt more that he didn’t realize there was anything wrong and if he did, he was doing a good job at hiding something and making you look like the bad guy. You lightly shake your head, feeling defeated, and lie back down, settling on your side facing the opposite direction of him.

What was going on in David’s head? You tried so hard to understand him. It was like walking on eggshells, and even you had a breaking point. It was just sometimes too much because it felt like you were the only one putting in the effort to keep this relationship afloat.

The bed shifts significantly, letting you know that he’s gotten out of it. What felt like an hour, but were only a few seconds, the room was silent, tension still heavy in the room, and neither of you were willing to be the first to crack. You lie still, unmoving and making no attempt to stop him. It’s only when you hear the swing of the bedroom door creak, you allow yourself to blink the tears in your eyes away.

He didn’t leave the apartment that much you could rest assured of. Rest? That was what you were having trouble with. Things weren’t getting any easier with David and you even though you vowed to yourself that you’d go through Hell for him, the pressure was getting too heavy on your heart and in return, you knew the distress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Maybe it was all just paranoia, the stress of pregnancy, and you were taking things too personal. You could be understanding about a lot of things in David’s life, his terms and PTSD, his kids, and his job, but was it too much to ask of him to be understanding of you? You suppose you were being selfish, and you were really tired. The only way to help you sleep was to swallow your pride and admit you were wrong.

The rush of the cold air instantly surrounds your bare legs the second you throw the covers off your body to get out of the bed. You throw on the discarded oversized shirt to be decent. Your steps are light, and you’re kind of nervous and, dare you admit, ashamed of how you overreacted that it drove David to the point of sleeping on the couch. After all, you made him feel unwanted in his own bed, and he certainly had enough respect to not steal yours.

Just when you’re ready to apologize and ask him to go back to bed with you, he’s already sound asleep, his legs sticking out from the mere blanket covering his upper body. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up for that. Sleep didn’t find him easy and he seemed just as stressed as you were, so you don’t disturb him. It can wait, right? You turn around and head to your room, shut the door and pray sleep finds you soon.  

It didn’t and neither did the conversation. 

News of the blast at St. Matthews College, where Julia was presenting a speech, rocked not only the political world, but it was the forefront of every news channel and medium. Tons left injured or dead, and as if that wasn’t bad, David was being told Julia had not survived the bombing.

He’s clearly distraught, believing he’s failed her, and on top of that, the weight of his lies started to suffocate him. He was going to have to come clean to you about everything he’s done behind closed doors with Julia. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of that, and if by some chance you did, it would take a hell of a long time for him to regain your trust.

How many more lives does he have to ruin or lose under his watch? It was becoming too much, and it was sad, as he stared at the gun in his hands, that he’d contemplated his next actions more than once, but he really didn’t know what he had left to do anymore. There was a lot actually, he had his kids, a baby on the way, and a new life to build with you, but he was far too gone at that moment.

It’s Vicky that finds him back at the apartment, cleaning the brass fragments from the wound on the side of his head. She quickly puts the pieces together, the notes on the table addressed separately to her, the children and you, and the admission from David that these were brass fragments of a bullet casing.

“Dave, what the fuck? What about Ella and Charlie? What about-” she starts going on but stops when he visibly cracks because he knows your name is next to come out of her mouth, “I’m taking you to the hospital,” she decides and is quick to put away her tools.

“No. No one can know about this,” David says adamantly. They start to argue about his injuries and how David hadn’t been aware that he fired a blank round before he asks her to go back home to the kids.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” she says grabbing a jacket and tries to reason that he shouldn’t be alone right now and maybe being around the kids and seeing you will open his eyes and realize what he was leaving behind had he successfully ended his life.

He couldn’t pretend living like he was okay. What had happened to Julia was not his fault. All David ever did was do his best to protect, protect his country, his family and her.

“You need to tell her,” Vicky says while she hands David a cap for him to cover the wound on his head.

“I don’t even know where she’s been the last few days,” he admits pathetically. His own girlfriend, the mother of his unborn child, he can’t even keep tabs on where she’s been this whole time. It made him feel even terrible that he’d neglected you.

“She’s been staying with the kids and I,” she reveals.

“What? Why is she there?” He asks, and quickly puts the cap on and gets up from his seat.

She didn’t tell David of your whereabouts earlier because you’d asked her not to and she politely respected that, but she knew now was not the time to take sides anymore. You two had to deal with your issues now.

“She shouldn’t be alone, Dave. She’s pregnant with your child and yet she’s going through it all by herself,” Vicky tells him.

“I never meant to bring her into any of this mess,” he says heavily, full of grief. He brought you into the madness that was his world and now you’re trapped in it, bringing a new life along for the ride.

“She loves you, David, don’t sell yourself short. She just feels like she’s been left in the dark. You need to talk to her,” Vicky advises him, “it may not be pretty, but you have to hear her out.”

She knew you couldn’t stand being alone in the apartment without being reminded of David constantly. You weren’t in a good place either and she wanted to help you both before it was too late. 

You’d been left behind at the house with Ella and Charlie in the other room watching TV, while Vicky was out looking for David. He wasn’t answering any of the phone calls she’s made, even ones made on your cell phone, there was no form of contact or communication from him. You knew he was there at the college; he was Julia’s bodyguard after all.

When you heard more than two voices return, you knew she’d brought David back and had told him you’d be here. You weren’t mad at her for ratting you out, it was going to come out eventually. Nothing ever stays hidden.

“You don’t normally wear a hat indoors,” Ella points out the cap on David’s head that stuck out like a sore thumb.

“You said it’s silly,” Charlie reminds his father.

“Then I’m being silly,” David responds as he watches his children chomp away at the slices of pizza in their hands.

While Vicky was on the phone cancelling her date tonight, you faintly hear the end of the conversation he was having with Ella and Charlie over their dinner. He still hadn’t even seen you. Then you hear his quiet, controlled sobs, but he couldn’t detain them enough and be strong around his kids.

“I just did something silly today,” he tells them.

“Wearing a hat?” Charlie asks innocently.

“That, too,” he replies as he clings onto them both in a group hug.

Vicky had just revealed to you of David’s suicide attempt moments ago. You’re numb. Clearly, Julia’s death had affected him rather deeply, so much that he thought killing himself was a solution.

He didn’t care about you or the baby. You both weren’t enough to save him or have anything to look forward to. You can’t even cry anymore. You wanted to lash out and get mad. She advises you to keep calm and think rationally, but you’re tired of thinking about all of this.  

Without warning, David enters the room you’d been staying in. You’re like stone on the couch, arms crossed and starting straight ahead of you, mindlessly at whatever TV program the kids left it on before retreating to the dining area. Your eyes cast themselves on David’s demure stance. He cautiously steps forward and hesitantly takes a seat next to you.

“Is it true?” You ask, breaking the silence and finally turn to look at him. He only nods in response, his head hangs low, ashamed. You felt like your heart didn’t have any parts to break anymore. The confirmation alone just felt like him stomping on it for added measure.

“Ok,” is all you say, biting down on your lip to prevent you from saying anything else. It was petty, but you’d refused to show him any remorse or sorrow of any kind.

“Is this where you’ve been the past few nights?” He questions, rather awkwardly too.

“Oh, so you’ve noticed I haven’t been home?” You ask bitterly.

He was really going to push your buttons. You’re not sure if Vicky was right about you and David having to talk. This wasn’t going to go well at all. You were not in an ideal mental and physical state to be talking about your problems with him, but if not now then when?

“Of course, I have. Why wouldn’t I?” He asks, almost appalled by the accusation, and watching as you get up from the couch to stand in front of him.  

“I hardly see you and when I do I find out that you just tried to kill yourself, so forgive me for not assuming I even ran as a mere thought in your messed-up head,” it was harsh, poking at his mental state, but you were so fed up, your mind was just as clouded, “...you didn’t think about me when you held the gun to your head,” you said ripping off his hat.

Your heart tightens in your chest as you stare at the wound and tears threaten to fall, but you don’t let them, “...and you certainly didn’t think about our baby when you pulled the trigger,” then chuck the cap at him, he makes no attempt to catch it as it lightly bounces off his chest and fall onto his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he says sincerely and making no attempt to hide his tears as they raced down, “I’m so fucking stupid,” and he gets up on his feet, ”...I need help.”

He’s not even going to use the excuse of work and you’re not expecting him to rat himself out and come clean about Julia just yet. David didn’t work like that and you were absolutely done with it. No, everything had to come out now.

“I know,” is all you say at first. He thinks it’s some form of forgiveness, him acknowledging his problem, until you follow up, “just admit it,” your voice changes in tone from anger and hurt to an icy one, “who do you love now, David?”

All while asking him that question, you’re trying to get his eyes to focus on you, but you simply cannot. He’s looking everywhere but, and it hurts.

“It’s Julia, isn’t it? Tell me!” You shout at his face. When he doesn’t answer immediately, your lips press down together and you don’t hold back the tears any longer, “I can’t believe you,” you say in disbelief, almost struggle to breathe right, “this shit has been keeping me up at night!”

You back away from him and cover your mouth, just to conceal your sobs so the rest of the family doesn’t hear you cry. They most definitely heard you yell, but you didn’t want to further trouble them anymore or cause a big enough scene for them to burst right through.

There hadn’t been a doubt in your mind that David loved you before, but just seeing how he couldn’t open up enough to tell you there was someone else during, filled you with more heartache. Maybe it would hurt less, you wouldn’t know unless it came straight from his mouth.

David starts crying as well and you honestly want to slap him, but instead you start saying nasty things, cutting him way worse than anything you could ever do physically, and you certainly don’t hold back. Claiming you two were never meant to be together, and the baby doesn’t mean anything especially in uniting you both.

“I’ll be surprised if this baby even survives,” you scoff thinking about a past experience, and how cruel life was gifting you this baby.

“What are you talking about? You’re not thinking about-“ David starts getting all frantic suddenly, and not thinking, he grabs both your arms in his hands, holding you in place.

“God no! I would never!” You say in disgust and pull away from him, “I can’t believe you’d think I would…”

“Then what did you mean?” He asks curiously.

“I never told you why I broke up with him,” you don’t really mention your ex’s name these days. While you’d both moved on as civil as the both of you could, it still pangs you to reminisce about the relationship and how it ended.

“He couldn’t handle the long distance,” he said thinking he knew.

“He only couldn’t after...” you pause, trying to decide if now was the time to reveal this secret. David had the right to know, after all, an incident like such could happen again.  

“After what? He was seeing someone else?” He grew increasingly anxious and almost ill towards the thought of another being unfaithful to you.

“No! It was my fault,” you don’t want to slander your ex at all. He couldn’t have prevented what happened to you across the other side of the world even if he tried. “I miscarried. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I woke up one day in my blood and the sharpest pain I’ve ever felt.”

You started reliving that day, how you were alone and the way your neighbors had to come to your aid. Your poor ex felt so helpless, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything for you, but the wave of depression afterwards had strained the relationship. It formally ended when you’d returned from studying abroad.

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” David says in shock. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, and if it was stupid to think all this time you could’ve easily had a life without him long before you two finally became a thing.

“It didn’t matter, David,” your voice finally regained strength, and wiped at the tears on your face of the memory, ”you and Vicky were so in love. There’s nothing you could’ve done for me.”

“That’s not true,” David persists.

“I would’ve turned you away, just like him,” you say so sure. David was your friend then, yes, but you didn’t need or owed him this before now.  

“You’re not going to lose this baby,” he promises.

“You don’t know that,” and you’re not trying to be a pessimist about this, you wanted this baby, but you were more than aware of the possibility it could happen again. Bad things just always seemed to be happening lately anyways.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’d protect you both with my last breath,” he vows, grabbing your hands, desperate to feel any part of you.

“I don’t need your protection, David,” your words continue to crush him, that was your subtle way of leaving him and he knew it, “I love you, David. I love you so much!” you say with plenty of emotion, and lightly squeeze his hands in yours, “...but you can’t even tell me who you love right now,” you point out, reluctantly removing your hands from his.

“You need to get help, David. If not for your family, me or the baby, please do it for yourself,” you say last, before placing a small kiss on his cheek.

“I’m going to get help...for you,” you hear David say determinedly just before you walk out of the room. It wasn’t all you wanted to hear, you wanted him to tell you he loved you back, but you wanted him to live easy once again even if that meant him not loving you.

You could manage on your own, and work something out when the baby arrives, but for now it was time for you to go home.

A/N: Nope. Sorry! Whenever Season 2 decides to come out, maybe we’ll get a happier David, so for now I don’t think I can let these two ride off into the sunset…but I can if you send 2020 off with giving this a like, reblog, comment or all of the above!

[thewolvesandtheirbard]

Eskel The Relentless

Geralt had elected to take a season off from Monster hunting so that he could focus on Ciri’s training. Ofcourse, that also meant that Jaskier would be enjoying this extra time at Kaer Morhen at his beloved wolf’s side. The courts wouldn’t miss him nearly as much as Geralt would (though the Witcher wouldn’t admit to that being true), and besides, they had responsibilities now, what with raising their newly adopted daughter and all.

So Geralt spent his days showing Cirilla how to wield a sword in the courtyard. Vesemir gave her reading assignments, lectured her over various monsters, and taught her how to brew potions. All the while, Jaskier ran about the keep like a witcher’s housewife, tending to the laundry, feeding the livestock, watering plants, and trying to prepare meals to the best of his ability.

Quickly, he realized that this year spent in the mountains was not going to be the vacation he’d expected, and that’s when the letters started appearing, a cheerful light in his disastrously busy life.

Once a month, Vesemir took him along on supply runs to the village at the foot of the mountains. There was a list of errands to be seen to and Jaskier took on half of them himself. One of these jobs was to fetch any mail that might have come, and the first time the bard stepped out of the postman’s shop, effectively fucking up his task when he slipped in a puddle and scattered the letters in the street, he discovered something both precious and hilarious.

One poorly sealed note had come open when Jaskier had fallen, and though he would never think to read through Vesemir’s mail without permission, he couldn’t help himself this time. It truly was an accident.

Vesemir,

In Redania. Jackass Blacksmith’s got a poor goat tied up with nowhere to graze. She doesn’t look well. Bastard says he’ll take ten crowns for her. What do you say?

- Eskel

Vesemir had written out his reply quickly and sent the letter back to wherever it had come from. The next time Jaskier was sent to fetch mail, the same note arrived again, the old wolf’s last answer intact along with Eskel’s most recent argument.

We do not need another goat to feed, son. I know how you are with animals, but move along and put this from your mind.

Stay safe.

- Vesemir

I went by that village again today. Goat’s still there. Offer‘s still on the table. Won‘t be too much for extra feed. Come on, pop.

- Eskel

This continued on and on into the Summer and even through Fall.

Why on earth are you still in Redania? Move on to your next contract! I don’t want to hear about this again. Do your job.

- Vesemir

I am doing my job. Redania’s infested. Been forced to take bookings for weeks in advance. Hell of a deal. Big money.

Goat’s still waiting at that bastard smith’s shop, by the way.

- Eskel

If I find another letter about that damn goat in my box again, you’re running the walls the moment you arrive home this Winter.

Be careful. Redania’s not a friendly place.

- Vesemir

I really can’t leave here without the poor thing, pop. Please. I take care of Lil’ Bleater don’t I? How much trouble can one more goat be?

- Eskel

NO! This is the last time I will be answering these ridiculous letters! Send to me if you need help only!

- Vesemir

When the scroll arrived for the final time, it took all Jaskier had not to break out into a fit of laughter. Eskel had covered the “No” in Vesemir’s previous reply with a blot of black ink and forged a carefully crafted “Yes” in its place. Then he had written his own triumphant ending to the note.

Thanks, Pop. Bought the goat. She’s got two little ones now. On my way home with the three of them.

- Eskel

Vesemir had a fit when he read through the mail that day, heading back to the keep in a rage, shouting on and on about disobedient pups and how he‘d obviously failed in teaching them respect for their elders.

Jaskier found the entire ordeal hilarious, and funnily enough, Geralt did as well.

Eskel arrived home that Winter and Vesemir immediately grabbed him up by the ear for a proper scolding.

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Twelve

I decided to end the chapter here for the moment because it got kind of long

Also there are only like 3 sets in this piece because we are on a BUDGET so everything happens in the laundry yard. Sorry take it up with the finance department

In which there is a Party (Also self-worth doesn’t come from rich people)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven

Engagement celebrations are not traditional in Gusu, but they are in Qishan, and the husband’s family are responsible.

“So, basically, His Excellency is demanding the Lan Sect throw him a party,” Wei Wuxian says. “That sounds like Wen Ruohan.”

“Oh, yes, Wei Ying,” Wang Xiaolu teases, flicking water at him from where she’s kneeling on the paving stones. “You know everything about the noble houses! You are so worldly!”

“Aiyah, Lulu!” Wei Wuxian starts chasing after her with his broom.

“Children!” Madam Xiao shouts, wagging a gnarled finger at them.  “You will have plenty of time for nonsense once the celebration has come and gone. I may not know everything about the noble houses, but I will not be the housekeeper that lets dust collect on His Excellency’s hem.”

All of the disciples are practicing a demonstration for the honored guests, so their lessons stretch late into the evening. The little ones seem delighted to be in classes with their older cousins and siblings, taking their roles very seriously even though they’re mainly tasked with holding supplies and staying out of the way.

Wei Wuxian tries to steal time here and there to watch them practice, giving them giant smiles and exuberant applause for every skill performed. Lan Wangji stands next to him, and Wei Wuxian could swear he sees the corner of his mouth twitch. Every time it happens he cheers louder.

But the result of all the cleaning, cooking, and other preparations is that Wei Wuxian barely has any time with the children. He makes sure they’re fed, washed, and in bed by nine, but there’s very little play time. 

He’s hemming some new robes for the Sect Leader—he’s still quite proud of his new sewing skills, so he’d begged Lan Biming for the job—when Lan Wangji stops by the laundry yard.

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Hey, Master Lan! Check out these stitches. Have you seen anything straighter?”

Lan Wangji actually comes over to crouch next to Wei Wuxian where he’s spread out on the ground, carefully lifting the fabric and looking intently at the fresh hem.

“It is very fine work.”

“Thank you!”

Lan Wangji stays crouched next to him for a moment, saying nothing. Wei Wuxian carefully ties off his thread and folds up the robes before turning to him.

“Well?”

“Well?”

“Are you just visiting the laundry yard to get away from the preparations? I imagine Lan Qiren is as demanding as ever.”

“Uncle is— This is the first major event held at the Cloud Recesses since the ambush. The first under Lan Xichen’s leadership. Everyone is taking it very seriously.”

Wei Wuxian salutes him, the effect somewhat ruined by the way his trousers are riding up on his legs, his knobby knees sticking out.

“I wonder, if you have time, if you could take the junior disciples to the back hill for a while this afternoon.”

“To see the bunnies? Of course! Are they finished with rehearsal?”

“Uncle would like to continue working with everyone, but I think it would be best if the younger ones departed for a short while.”

“They need a break, huh?”

Lan Wangji nods.

“I’d be delighted! Just let me get these robes to Master Lin and I’ll be over.”

Lan Wangji is, as usual, correct. As soon as they leave the main compound, half of the kids go absolutely wild, running and screaming and rolling down the hill.

“Hey, watch it! You’re not wearing your play clothes today, and the Grandmaster will have all the hair off my head if you get grass stains on your nice robes!”

Lan Ting flops down into the grass. “Wei-qianbei, will you please cover me with rabbits? I am so tired and my brain is so confused, I just need to be covered with rabbits.”

Wei Wuxian laughs and straightens the boy’s robes over his legs. “Feifei, Yixian, come help me catch some rabbits to bury your cousin.”

He sits down in the midst of them all and lets himself enjoy the shift in energy. He likes the other servants quite a bit, and they like him more than they used to, but it’s nothing like being in this crowd of wild, chubby-cheeked troublemakers.

Lan Jingyi comes up behind him and leans against his shoulder. “I miss you, Wei-qianbei,” he says and he tucks his arms around Wei Wuxian’s neck.

“Ah, Jingyi, I still see you every day.”

“But not all of the day.”

“No, because I have work to do. Don’t you want to be proud of the Cloud Recesses when all the other clans come to visit? It must be sparkling clean! It should be as shining in the sun as if a fresh layer of snow has fallen over the whole mountain!”

“But you’re my Wei-qianbei, and I need you to play with me.” 

Wei Wuxian hauls him over into his lap. “How about a nice cuddle now instead?”

“Okay. Can you cuddle me and I cuddle a rabbit?”

“Yes, of course.”

All in all, it’s the nicest day he’s had all week.

The day before the other sects are to arrive, Lan Wangji comes back to find him in the laundry yard where he’s wolfing down dinner, grateful for ten minutes of quiet. It’s going to rain, which makes him rather resent the time he’d spent mopping down the entry stairs. Half of his hair is falling out of his topknot and whipping around his face, getting into his bowl, striping chilli oil across his cheek.

It seems unreal that the day is almost upon them. He has been carefully not thinking about what will happen when the sects begin arriving, trying to keep his thoughts blank and focus on cleaning this stone, chopping this turnip, carrying this child. Nothing beyond.

“Wei Wuxian.”

“There’s no one else here,” he says, with his mouth full.

“Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan.”

Surprisingly, Lan Wangji comes over and sits next to him on the bench. He’s warm, noticeably so in the chill. On a normal day, he thinks that would hold his attention; he’d be hyper aware of the solidness of Lan Wangji’s shoulder, how he warms Wei Wuxian’s arm down to the elbow. But today his mind is empty, wind whistling through.

“Wei Ying. Tomorrow the sects arrive. It will not be the largest gathering, but all of the leaders will attend. That means Wen Ruohan. And also Jiang Wanyin.”

Wei Wuxian shoves in another mouthful, nodding.

“Are you—” Lan Wangji sighs, frustrated. Wei Wuxian chews and lets him think.

“Is there an assignment,” Lan Wangji says, slowly, “that would make the next few days easier for you?”

Wei Wuxian swallows, wipes his mouth. “How do you mean?”

Lan Wangji glares, slightly. “It will be best for everyone if you are out of the way of Wen Ruohan, to avoid any unnecessary disruption. But if you’d like to see Jiang Wanyin, you could—I don’t know—tidy the guest rooms where he is staying.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“If I want to see him. If I can see him.” Wei Wuxian puts down his bowl. “Is— Do you know if my sister . . .”

“I don’t. I haven’t heard who is attending.”

Wei Wuxian nods, looks up at the sky. It starts to rain, spitting down on him.

“I will instruct Lin Biming to assign you wherever is easiest,” Lan Wangji says.

“Probably best if I keep out of the way, don’t you think?” Wei Wuxian closes his eyes against the rain. When he opens them, Lan Wangji is gone.

---

He ends up on dish duty, which is fine. He’s only crossed paths with visiting servants so far, and most of them don’t give him a second glance. 

He’s clearing the tea service from a private meeting room when he sees Jiang Cheng. Wei Wuxian is inside, and his brother walks by the open door. He’s in his customary purple, but with a golden sash which seems to pay homage to Lanling Jin. Wei Wuxian sets his tray down silently and moves to the door, watching him as he turns into another pavilion.

He seems thinner than Wei Wuxian remembers, his jaw possibly sharper. My, Jiang Cheng, is Shijie not feeding you?

When he’s out of sight, Wei Wuxian sinks down onto his heels, leaning against the wall with his arms wrapped around his knees. I thought I’d feel it, he thinks to himself, trying to drown out the buzzing in his ears. Shouldn’t I be able to feel it when he’s near? Shouldn’t he feel me?

But he doesn’t rise, chase after him, call his name. He breathes until his hands quit shaking, then he gathers up the tea tray and goes back to the kitchens.

He manages to stay safely out of the way for the first two days, but on the third he decides to risk discovery to watch the children perform their demonstration. He sneaks in the back of the crowd, head tucked down and hands occupied with the small kettle of tea that is his excuse for being there in the first place. He can’t quite relax without being in danger of burning himself, but it’s helpful to remain alert.

Wen Qing is seated near Wen Ruohan, shimmering gold headpiece and even more intricately embroidered robes than usual. Jiang Cheng is at the side of the room farthest away from the door, seated with Jin Zixuan and Jin Guangshan. Jin Guangshan leans over and says something to him, and a polite smile flashes across his face. It looks unnatural. Wei Wuxian shifts so that he’s blocked by another servant. Yanli is not there.

Wen Qing looks around as the disciples enter and catches his eye. She’s made up in a way he’s never seen before, looking more like a delicate flower than the solid oak he knows her to be. She gives him a little smile before turning back to watch the children.

Wei Wuxian doesn’t honestly pay a lot of attention to the demonstration. It’s not that it hurts, he tells himself, to watch young people reveling in their spiritual power, tossing it around like it’s nothing, like it’s never-ending. It’s just that he’d rather watch his children, see who stands properly still, who’s fidgeting, who misses their cue and has to scramble across the stage. Normally he’d cheer and whoop and shout out each name, but he just claps politely and grins at the ones who spot him.

After the demonstration, it’s time to serve more tea. He tries to be clever and serve some low ranking member of a minor sect who may not recognize him, but he gets turned around in the shuffle and ends up standing beside Wen Chao. After the first pour he doesn’t look up, but Wei Wuxian feels himself begin to sweat, like an animal stuck inside a trap in the moment before the net pulls tight. They’ll need to pour at least three more cups to cover all of the toasts.

The first toast, proposed by Wen Ruohan, is dedicated to the hosts in Gusu Lan. The second—Wei Wuxian’s hands only shake a bit as he pours—goes to the happy couple, Lan Wangji and Wen Qing. Lan Wangji has taken his place with the other members of his sect following the demonstration, so all eyes scan across the room between him and Wen Qing. Wei Wuxian braces himself, but their gazes just slide over him.

For the next toast, Jin Guangshan speaks up.

“Honored sects, it is Lanling Jin’s great happiness to announce the engagement of my son and heir, Jin Zixuan, and the sister of our loyal ally, Jiang Wanyin. The wedding will take place in one year, and will bind Lanling Jin and Yunmeng Jiang together in the bonds of family.”

He nods to Jiang Cheng, who straightens. “Yunmeng Jiang is honored to join with Lanling Jin, and my sister is blessed with a fine husband-to-be.” He looks around, awkwardly, then finishes with “We are very happy.” He even smiles.

The handle of the kettle creaks in Wei Wuxian’s grip. How dare he, he thinks. They won’t even say her name, like she’s just an object, or an animal changing ownership. Like she’s a treaty to be signed.

He pours the last cup, and his hands shake, sloshing tea over the side.

“Aiyah, you fool!” Wen Chao yells. He yanks back his sleeve and glares up at him. So does everyone else.

Wei Wuxian freezes and stares down at the ground, hoping they just see the grey uniform and topknot, no one worth noticing.

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Chao says at top volume, anger transforming into delight in an instant. “Of course it would be you. Look, this demon tried to burn me.”

The room explodes into noise, murmurs and scoffs and whispers and even a few bursts of laughter. Wei Wuxian can’t help himself, he looks up directly at Jiang Cheng. His brother’s eyes are fiery, jaw clenched and hand on the hilt of his sword. For a moment the rest of the room fades away and Wei Wuxian almost speaks, almost says his name. Jiang Cheng looks away.

Wei Wuxian feels an insistent hand on his elbow and lets himself be tugged backward.

“Come on, Wei Ying,” Lin Biming says in his ear. “Give the kettle to Xiaolu and go.”

The kettle is gone—he doesn’t notice it happening, just the sudden absence of weight, and then suddenly he is outside under grey sky with his hands pressed hard against his middle. He doesn’t realize he’s not alone until he feels hands on his shoulders.

“That’s it, breathe. You’re all right, boy, just breathe.” Lin Biming tugs him gently down the walkway until the uproar from inside fades into nothing more than rising and falling tones.

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian forces out, all air.

“No, don’t worry. It’s all right.”

“I just wanted to see . . . I wanted to . . .”

“I know, it’s all right. I should have protected you.”

Wei Wuxian looks up, startled. Lin Biming’s red face is all concern, and though his features aren’t the same, he looks so much like Uncle Jiang it’s difficult not to lean in and rest his cheek against the man’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to—”

“That’s my job, to protect you all.”

Wei Wuxian gives in and hugs him, earning a small grunt of surprise. It’s like hugging a tree trunk, but eventually he feels a gentle pat in the center of his back. Despite everything, it does actually make him feel better.

Lin Biming leaves, flustered, and Wei Wuxian wanders somewhat aimlessly back to the kitchen. He feels naked, like he’s been stripped in the middle of Caiyi Town, left standing on his own with nothing between him and the wind.

Time passes, somehow. People move around him, shifting him gently into a corner so they can clean the dishes, start preparing dinner. A few folks pat his cheek, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, squeeze his shoulder. Part of him—most of him—feels it like embers inside him, like something that will become a warm and comforting fire when he can pull the lid off and expose it to air. 

Dinner is served without him. He stays in the laundry yard, grateful to find a torn bedsheet on the line that’s been left for later. He stitches as the sun goes down, slow, deliberate, each stitch exact in length and straightness. It’s almost becoming hard to see when Wen Qing finds him.

“Jiang Wanyin asked me if I knew where you were,” she says, evenly.

Wei Wuxian tucks the needle into the fabric and joins her where she’s leaning against the stone wall.

“To make sure I stay out of sight, I suppose. Out of trouble.”

“He wants to see you.”

“What are you doing, talking to strange men at your own engagement party? Have some shame, Lady Wen.”

“Wei Ying.”

He turns and rests his forehead on her shoulder. “I can’t. I can’t see him. I can’t.”

“How long has it been?”

“He was at the trial. I can’t face him after that. You don’t know what it’s like, watching him just sit there—”

“Watching the people who are supposed to be my family sit in silence while Wen Ruohan decides my future for me, separates me from my brother and everyone I know to fill a role I never wanted and don’t belong in? Clearly I have no idea what that is like.”

Wei Wuxian groans. “I know. I know. I just can’t. The way he sat there and talked about Shijie, like she’s nothing. I expect it from Wen Ruohan, not from Jiang Cheng. Before— When we were together he hated Jin Zixuan as much as I did. Now, he announces their engagement and he smiles? Truly, anyone can be bought.” 

“He does what he has to do.”

“So do you, but you don’t smile about it.”

Wen Qing shoves him off her shoulder. “I’m clearly not performing as well as I thought. Wei Ying, you have to understand. Wanyin and Yanli had nothing when the Jins took them in. Jiang Wanyin approves of Jin Zixuan because he protects her.”

“He doesn’t protect her. Jin Guangshan and his money protect her.”

“He protects her from Jin Guangshan.”

It takes a moment to hit him, then he hits the wall. He doesn’t notice he’s done it until the skin on his knuckle splits.

“Fuck!” he punches again, smearing a line of blood across the stone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” As he strikes again and again, a thin stream of black smoke emerges from between his fingers.

Wen Qing grabs his arms. “Stop it!”

“Fuck!” he shouts again, fighting her. But he’s not strong enough; he couldn’t overpower her if he wanted to. Not without Chenqing, not without summoning more than he can handle. “Fucking useless,” he breathes, dropping his forehead against the wall, hard.

“It’s all right. She’s under Jin Zixuan’s protection, no one will touch her.”

He whirls on her. “What about those that aren’t? Would I be protected in Lanling? Someone like me?”

“You’re not really Jin Guangshan’s taste.”

“Wen Qing.”

“There’s nothing to be done. Someday Jin Zixuan will take over and things will be better.”

“That’s not good enough. I hate this. I hate this. I didn’t know it would be like this. I never thought the power mattered, but to just sit and watch— ”

“I know.”

“You don’t.”

“Wei Ying, what’s my fucking name? Of course I know what it’s like to be powerless, to sit and watch. But we don’t sacrifice ourselves if there’s no chance of success. We don’t waste our lives on battles we can’t win.”

“Fuck.”

“Calm down, all right? Sit down, come on.”

Wei Wuxian leans against her side and breathes, eyes closed. Lifts one hand on an inhale, breathes out, pushing away. I am glad for . . . I am grateful for . . . I have . . . I . . .

It takes a few minutes, but his heart rate slows, the red recedes from the corners of his vision. His hands are clear, no black smoke.

“It’s not fair.”

“I know.”

“She shouldn’t have to marry him just for that. That shouldn’t be enough.”

“Everyone pays for protection, Wei Ying. Even you.”

“You mean serving the Lans? That’s not payment.”

“Not people. Are you saying there wasn’t a cost? For feeling powerful again, feeling whole?”

Wei Wuxian nods. “It never felt whole. It just wasn’t empty.”

Wen Qing pulls a jar of salve and roll of bandages out of her bag and starts treating his hand.

“Even in your engagement robes, you’re always ready.”

“Wen Ruohan can make me what he wants on the outside, he has no power over anything else.”

Wei Wuxian grins at her, then hisses at the sting. “Ah, Wen Qing, it may not be your first choice, but I am so glad you are here. And that if you have to marry someone you don’t want to, it’s someone in Cloud Recesses.”

Wen Qing ties off the bandage but keeps a hold of his hand. “It could be worse.”

Wei Wuxian gasps in mock indignation. “You’re marrying Lan Wangji, and that’s the best you’ve got? It could be worse?”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes, but stays with him and watches the shadows lengthen. 

“I need to go back,” she says finally, rising and brushing off her robes. “Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen will be playing music tonight. You’ll be able to hear from outside. It may do you some good.”

“I do miss music,” he says, walking her to the entryway. “I really could play. Remember? Those weeks we were together, you’d work and I would play?”

“You’ll play again.” She gives him half a smile and leaves. 

He goes back to his torn sheet, folding it neatly until he begins to hear a guqin—faint, but pure, calling him out of the yard, pulling him along like a tide.

Part Thirteen

[imagine-loki]

Lionheart

TITLE: Lionheart

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: ONE-SHOT

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: After the Chitauri attack on New York, imagine Loki being sentenced to public service on Earth, specifically in aiding people who got hurt during the attack. His magic has been limited to only be enough to aid keeping Odin’s spell in place so he wouldn’t turn blue. His task is to help people with special needs, to do house chores, help them get around, do their grocery and keep them company while they recover. He is assigned to a girl who ended up blind after one of the Chitauri shot at her. + Imagine Loki wandering into the room you’re working in, hearing you singing to yourself. The phrase “you’re a King and I’m a Lionheart” piques his interest and he decides to sit nearby. A little later, he nearly gives you a heart attack when you notice he’s just been quietly sitting there, and he tells you he’s been listening to you sing for the better part of an hour.

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: This story ended very differently than what I had in mind when I first thought of it. I kinda dig it. Like… do I… do I want to make a superhero out of her? How would this work? I have too many ideas and no time to write them!

Language, suggestive themes, blatant disregard for Tony’s rules. Loki discovers he has two kinks (and one of them is stronger than the other… and it’s not the one everyone thinks). Mostly just fluff. 

*Song is “King and Lionheart” by Of Monsters and Men

=

Loki rolled his eyes, scoffing for what seemed to be the millionth time that morning. “I need my magic, Stark. I don’t think you’re quite understanding my dilemma.”

Tony put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, fixing him with a meaningful stare. New York had been going through a rash of bad crime, people who found alien tech and decided to modify it in order to obtain their evils means. Loki had become increasingly worried about keeping Charlie safe. Magic would guarantee that not a single wild, unruly hair on her sweet, adorable head would be ruffled by a would-be villain.

Asgard had different ideas.

“Look, I know you’re frustrated, but your dad made it abundantly clear that he’s not giving you back your hocus pocus and that you’re not allowed any real weapons.”

“Odin is not my father. And if he knew anything about anything, he would give me my magic back. How am I meant to defend a realm with no resources?” Loki argued back, pushing Stark’s hand away, his cheeks turning a flushed pink in his anger.

Tony was smirking. “A realm or just Charlie’s apartment?”

“Don’t act like you’re not just as concerned for Charlie as I am, Anthony! She’s in a vulnerable position, she has ties to both of us. She’d be such an easy–how am I meant to keep her safe?”

The sudden shadow that crossed Loki’s face made Tony pity the poor fool. He knew what he was feeling–fuck, Tony felt like that about Pepper every single moment of every single day. He would be tearing down the city to make sure no harm would come to her. And he loved Charlie. She was smart as a whip, stubbornly determined, took no shit from anyone. She had even started to pick up coding again, working on a few side projects for Tony, using an operating system he specifically designed for the vision impaired.

But Asgard had been very clear on what they thought Loki was and was not allowed to do. They had already raised concerns over the fact that Loki spent a considerable amount of time with that one helpless mortal. Loki had nearly torn off Odin’s head at the comment and Tony had had his own share of nasty commentary as a response as to worry about keeping Loki on a short leash. Still, here they were, idle and useless.

“I can’t stop you from getting weapons elsewhere, but I can’t give you your daggers or turn off your magic dampener.”

Loki looked like he was close to screaming, the muscles in his jaw jumping dangerously with the effort to reign himself in. It wasn’t Stark’s fault, he knew, but he was so tired of feeling powerless. He could fight off any threat, but what if something happened when he wasn’t there? What if she was in danger and there wasn’t a cocoon made of his seidr keeping her safe and sound? What if he was ever too late?

Tony sighed, furrowing his brow like he was fighting with himself. “Look, if you tell anyone I gave you this, I will kill you. Do you understand?” He asked barely above a whisper, leveling his gaze with Loki’s. The Prince nodded a little skeptically. Tony fished something out of his pocket and shoved it into Loki’s hands. “Take these and put them on her. If anything starts going to hell in a handbasket, she’ll be safe.”

Loki felt like he could breathe again when he closed his hands around a set of dainty metal bracelets he assumed were built of Stark’s nanite technology. This wasn’t mere coincidence–no one just casually walks around with this kind of technology on the off-chance of someone needing them. The message was clear as a bell: I care about Charlie, too.

He offered a meaningful nod before turning neatly on his heel and heading off.

After a jaunt through a farmer’s market, Loki crossed the street towards Charlie’s building, arms laden with bags of fresh fruit. He unlocked the front gate (which he had insisted, to the supervisor, needed to be locked) before taking the stairs up to Charlie’s apartment by twos. Though there was an undeniable tension clenching at his spine from the morning’s meetings, his worry melted away the second he saw her door. He tentatively tried the doorknob, smiling to himself when he found it fully locked–for once. He promptly used his key to gain access.

Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, a laptop open in front of her. Her fingers flew over the keyboard with an ease that was still awe-inspiring to him, despite the fact he watched her do it every single day. Her hair was still in the overly complicated plait he had twined it into that morning, having spent the night (a detail Tony had asked about nearly a million times during their meeting) entirely by accident (he swore up and down that he had just passed out on the couch). Charlie had changed out of her nightshirt and into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Loki couldn’t help but smile–the t-shirt was inside out, after all–but she was just the portrait of perfection in his eyes.

He put the fruit down on the kitchen counter, figuring he would have time to worry about it later. At the sound, Charlie tilted her head and jutted her face out towards the space beside her, allowing Loki press a kiss to her expectant lips, as she barely broke her working stride.

“Hello, darling.”

“Hey, yourself. How was your meeting?” Loki groaned immediately, and Charlie could only chuckle. “I imagine that was a ’no’ on ’can we give the alien prince who tried to invade us his magic back’?”

“No would have been a kind answer,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and hiding his face into the crook of her neck. “Odin doesn’t do kind. He relishes in me being reduced to secondhand protection,” he finished, taking the objects out of his pocket and tossing them onto the table with a sigh.

Charlie smiled, reaching back to pat him soothingly before her fingers sought out the objects on the table. “You worry too much.”

Loki chuckled, rolling his eyes. “One of us has to.” He pressed another kiss, this time to her temple and enjoyed the contented noise she made at the back of her throat. “Besides, Stark was more interested in hearing why my GPS signal and your GPS signal–”

“Were on top of each other?” Charlie questioned, smirking like an imp.

“His phrasing was much cruder, believe me.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth.” He rested his chin on her crown. “That you tied me up and demanded my servitude in the form of my flesh.”

Charlie giggled, shaking her head at the notion. “Oh, please. Like I need to tie you up for your servitude,” she joked, rolling her hazel eyes. Her hands covered whatever she had heard tinkle onto the table a moment prior. “What are these?”

“Some peace of mind courtesy of Stark. Hence, secondhand protection,” he replied, taking care to slip them onto her wrists and letting the nanites adjust to her size. “So, please keep them on.”

“Are you sure it’s not an alarm system to keep you from not-so-accidentally, accidentally sleeping over?”

“I fell asleep!” He defended, sounding like it was the fiftieth time that he had to say so that day.

She barely caught the peal of laughter, rushing to catch her lower lip between her teeth. Her face had turned perfectly towards him and he couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips. “Who are you trying to convince, you or me? Because I don’t care. I’ve been asking you to stay for forever, you know that.”

“Make your fun, but whenever I do manage to take myself back to Stark’s for the night, I need be sure you will be wearing those. Please, Charlotte.”

“Whatever you say, babe”, she offered, winking at him before turning back to her monitor and resuming her typing position. Loki was only too happy to listen to the click-clacking of the keys while he puttered around the flat.

After a while, he had finished straightening up when an unfamiliar sound grasped his attention. He tilted his head curiously, shaggy hair flitting into his eyes and eyebrows drawing in tightly in concentration. It was a tune, sweet and smooth, though it filled his heart with a certain type of dull ache that was almost wistful. Following the source, he stepped outside of the bedroom, unfolded laundry forgotten on her bed.

“Howling ghosts they reappear in mountains that are stacked with fear. You’re a King and I’m a Lionheart.*”

Loki stopped, mid-step.

This was certainly a first.

He had never heard Charlie sing before, other than the quiet humming she did under her breath while she showered or tidied up. He now felt nostalgic for the sound. More importantly, something about her song–it stirred a ridiculous, long-dormant feelings within him. Even now, seeing her with her headphones in, clearly concentrating on her task, he couldn’t help but feel that the song was meant solely for him.

So he ventured a little closer.

If there was one true benefit of him spending so much time in her flat, other than Charlie’s stellar company, it was the fact he could now sneak around. For the longest time, his scent gave him away even though he was deathly silent. Apparently, now everything smelled faintly of him–which awoke a whole other host of emotions he did not need to go into–and so it was harder for her to tell when he was trying to surprise her. However, if he lingered a little too long, the weight of his stare surely had Charlie turning his direction with a pleased smile. The key was to stay a meter or two away, preferably sitting on the floor, to avoid detection.

And so he did.

Loki sank onto the floor, legs bent and his arms resting on his knees, a reflexive smile pulling at the sides of his mouth as he watched her.

He noticed tiny traits that he had not in the past. Like the way she would chew on the inside of her left cheek when she was thinking or how she crinkled her nose when she hit high notes. Loki committed the way her voice oozed like caramel with soulful, jazzy songs to memory and delighted in the slight sway of her hips during what he assumed were musical interludes.

The watch on her wrist buzzed against the table. With little hesitation, Charlie stood from her seat, stretched her arms over her head and let her spine pop noisily with a sigh of contentment. Her legs turned from her little workstation and went to step away, in what Loki quickly realized was straight in his direction. She still had her earbuds in, and so did not hear the small, panicked sound escaping his lips while he decided where to go.

Unhelpfully, he decided the best course of action was to wrap his hand around her ankle before she managed to tread on him.

Charlie let out a shriek, jumping a meter back before her whole body was enveloped in metallic armor. A mechanical whirr and a whining hiss filled the air, as the two gauntlets pointed outwards, blasters charged.

“Charlie, what’s going on? Do you need backup?”

Charlie stilled at Tony’s voice inside the suit, still locked into its defensive position. There were several thoughts rushing through her mind, at once. “Um… er, I–I don’t think so." It was a little too hard to grasp at any particular one, though the most pressing was probably the fact that Loki was sprawled on the floor, hands up in a passive stance though his eyes shone with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on… No, the most pressing thought was the fact that she could–See? Perceive?–she knew that was how he was sat.

"Is this the new neural link you were working on?”

“Yeah. It’s the prototype. Are. You. OK?”

Charlie chuckled to herself, her arms lowering and the repulsors on her palms dimming to a mere candle’s worth. She watched, if that was even the correct term, Loki’s breath hitch anxiously and his body attempt to curl into itself to hide away. “I’m fine, Tony. Just a loud pigeon startled me, is all,” she lied.

“OK. Just remember that thing’s not a toy, CeeCee. So, you–”

“Bye, Tony,” she called, disconnecting the call with a quick swipe of her eyes. Tony was many things, an overbearing idiot being chief among them, but he was a genius.

Loki had pulled himself tightly, arms around his legs, keeping perfectly still, and his eyes downcast; worried. He briefly glanced up at her through his eyelashes, green eyes peeking through thick veils of black, but he didn’t linger on her for too long.

He looked so vivid, so comforting, so real. Not a voice she invented in the back of her mind to keep herself company. Real and there and very nervous at this turn of events, but so lovely, all the same. It was nice to take him in, if just for a moment. 

“Loki?”

His expression became pained as it focused on the tile beneath him. “Yes?” He shifted before she could offer a follow-up question. “I’m sorry. I just… I… I’ll go and…,” he trailed off once again getting to his feet. A second later, he had the breath knocked out of him all at once. Nanites faded and armor gone, she barreled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck in a vise. “What are you–”

The rest of the question was swallowed up by her lips on his. He had barely managed to secure her frame to his when she pulled back.

“I can’t believe I forgot how pretty you were,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to his with a smile.

Loki knew she couldn’t register his expression of surprise plastered on his face, but it slipped onto his face, regardless. Her hazel eyes still trailed him, as if still cataloguing whatever it was she saw when inside the suit. Though he dreaded the idea that she might have seen something–someone–she didn’t like, her gentle stare didn’t hold disappointment, but rather, delight. His skin burned at the compliment and he was sure she could feel it.

“It was nice to have a refresher, though.” Loki shuffled her body, securing his hands under her thighs, where they had wrapped around his waist. “And at least I now know I could probably fight crime,” Charlie joked, laying her head on his shoulder. “Or become a super villain. I haven’t quite decided which, yet.”

“Don’t get any ideas or I will have to, regretfully, return the bracelets to Stark,” Loki chided, though he pressed a kiss to her crown. He had not quite gotten over the shock that for a moment, the briefest of minutes, Charlie had been able to see and that all she had concerned herself with was him.

She shrugged. “That’s OK. I can’t say I see myself using them very often.”

Loki stilled in the gentle swaying he had started, perplexed. He would’ve thought that Charlie would jump at whatever technology would allow her to see. Of course, once she had gotten her sight back, there would be little reason for him to stay. Not that she had much use for him now, frightfully independent as she was. But this would have set her life back to normal, and the voices in his head had loudly declared that the end of his time in this flat, loving this mess of a woman was nearing its end.

“Why?”

“Colors are too bright. They’d give me a headache.” She smiled against his neck and kissed his pulse. “And it terrified you.”

Loki’s heart clenched in guilt. “You can’t give up this opportunity just because I feel inadequate.”

Charlie chuckled. “I’m not.” With great reluctance, she asked Loki to set her down and the Prince felt the sense of loss of her body echoed particularly strong in his frayed emotions. She sighed, taking his hands in hers and lacing their fingers together. “The neural link is new and buggy and would takes ages to master. I’m happy with how my life is going. Whenever Stark refines the technology, I’ll think about it again. And until then, well, I’ll spend my energy reminding you that I chose you–”

“I know, but–”

“And that nothing is changing that. I don’t know why you think I would just exclude you from my life, Loki. Plus, if you were hot as hell when you attacked New York, you’re even finer now. I mean, what the hell?”

Loki guffawed at her declaration, another surge of heat tinting him pink from his chest to the tips of his ears. “Says the woman who didn’t hesitate jumping into a fighting pose after someone touched her ankle,” he purred, raising their linked hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles.

It suddenly dawned on Charlie that the mystery emotion she couldn’t place earlier was simply him swooning over her defensive stance. 

“I didn’t know you were there, you dork!” She tilted her head. “Why were you there?”

“You never told me you sang, Lionheart.” It was Charlie’s turn to blush, a lovely red that turned her bronzed complexion copper. “Hmmm, that would lend itself to a secret identity, don’t you suppose?”

“You just want me to call you King, don’t you?” The sage tilt of her lips thrilled him and so he kissed them to share in her amusement.

“Perhaps a little,” he admitted, though it felt pulled against his will.

Charlie beamed and Loki could practically see the ideas sparking into her brain. “I see. How about you and I let our GPS signals mingle for a while, my King?” She had let go of his hands and was deftly walking backwards towards the bedroom. “I’ll show you another fighting pose.”

“Oh, fuck.” The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth on their own accord in barely above a whisper. The suggestion had let a full-length shiver loose in his spine. “Yes, please.” His voice cracked faintly, as he shook the shock out of his system in favor for heart-pattering excitement.

With a chuckle, he closed the distance between them in a single bound, bending low to throw Charlie’s smaller frame over his shoulder. He only hoped her shrieking giggles didn’t activate Stark’s suit again.

[frogsandfries]

After an absolute success of a day

After an amazing night of around four hours of sleep because I don't deserve to sleep, I proceeded to bungle everything. I failed the shit out of the last chapter of my training, I failed the shit out of trying to study how the instructor wanted us to study and spent about two hours this evening after work compensating while barely able to think.

Turns out, even though it was a massive chapter--around two to three units worth of content, I still need to write it down to remember it at all. So I'll try to finish that tomorrow--hopefully there will be time on the clock, and if not, I'll finish it after work. Then I'm going to spend my weekend continuing to study because I thought I had three days to study next week. I don't. I'm booked from eight am till about four pm. I'd be better off if I could get the middle driver to just drop me off at the second clinic.

Anyway. I was so exhausted all fucking day after getting only four hours of sleep because according to some people, it is necessary to wake me up every. Single. Fucking. Night. Like why are the cats in the spare bedroom, so they don't disturb me when the other human is going to loudly announce that they're finally deigning to bless me with their presence in bed.

Like, no shade or anything.

I just didn't get anything done with my precious evening. I could have finished my QR code. Nah. I'd rather nod off through an attempt at dinner, the only meal I had all day unless yOu CoUNt pOtATo CHipS, and then get maybe a two hour nap over fucking video game noises because loud sounds know to stop before echoing around corners because it's rude mmkai.

I've just fucking had it around here.

I do everything. The dishes never end because I'm the only one who would use the same dish day after day. But fuck it. There's constantly a mountain of dishes even though there are fucking two of us to do the dishes but why would you fucking do your dishes someone else will just fucking do your dishes and then when we have a kid, it's child abuse to make your five-year-old learn how to do dishes and why would you even fucking bother, they'll just take after the other adult in the household.

I can literally see my future. It looks like two people who like living in a dump because one of them wants to be like the lazy adult.

The only other fucking adult in the apartment has had two weeks to find the laundry bag. Is that a priority at all?? No.

Let's just let the laundry pile up on the formerly clear floor because a clear floor in a bedroom is just absolutely criminal. Let's throw and dump garbage all over the floor all over the apartment. Let's let garbage pile up. Somebody else will pick up.

I'm so fucking tired of also being the only one with an idea of where shit goes. Nobody fucking else can be fucking bothered to try to look around the apartment and fucking figure it out. I know, I know, a two-bedroom apartment is just really huge and there's just so many floors and rooms--I know, it's really intimidating. It's really easy to get lost. Four closets is just too many places to look to store things that need to be put away.

I can't describe how fucking exhausted I am with being--I mean, let's face it. This household is like a business and I'm the owner and manager. I'm expected to know where everything goes, what's out of place, what's dirty, what's garbage, when things need to be done and who's going to do it. Anybody can spend money--and the hourly manager sure does know how to spend. But I'm also expected to do all the actually necessary shopping--do we need toilet paper? Flour? Dish soap? It's my responsibility to inventory. Does the laundry need to be done?

I'm not the only adult in the apartment, but I might as well be. I don't want to have a child and spend all my free time and energy chasing around an adult, teaching a child that only one adult in the household needs to know what's going on, and one adult assigns everyone's chores.

Not that anyone fucking cares. That's just how it is. If I don't tell my partner to go do the dishes, well, it's just assumes that I'll get them done. After I'm done working.

But if I'm not working, earning money, and he gets off work, he immediately goes to play video games obsessively, rather than concerning himself with lowly, mortal chores like dishes. Only peasants concern themselves with dishes.

No amount of talking about this is fixing things. I'm not respected. If I speak nicely, I'm ignored. If I speak firmly, I'm ignored. If I nag, well, that's the only time I'm listened to. Nothing gets done preemptively because nothing needs to be done unless I'm wasting my time and energy bitching about it. If I'm woken up in the middle of the night after I've made it clear that I don't appreciate this behavior, and I scream about it, I'm still not heard.

I really, constantly question if I'm appreciated. I don't know why I'm here. I did everything in the last apartment--all of any cleaning that got done and I still paid all the bills and prepared all the food. Here, I didn't have to pay the bills for a few months, but now that I'm working and he's not, it's back to the same exact shit. He plays video games and wakes me up in the middle of the night, I go to work at the ass-crack of dawn, cook and clean. Nobody makes dinner for me. No way in hell would anybody make lunch for me. I simply don't deserve such niceties.

The cats are entirely my cats. I feed them, maintain their water, scoop and change the litter. Sometimes, when I give orders, I get help emptying the box.

Things would be better if I just got off my ass and left a situation that is horrifically out of balance. I'm so tired of being told constantly "sorry" and "I'm trying". I hate when men say they're "trying". I have yet to meet a man who, when he says he's trying, is actually trying. It's complete, absolute bullshit. "I'm trying" is seriously starting to look like code for "if I tell her what she wants to hear, she gets off my ass for a few more days while I can play video games and ignore everything that needs to be done and never be obligated to figure out what needs to be done".

I shouldn't have to consider a chore chart. It's more investment on my part of time and energy and its one more fucking thing that I do around here that will be fucking ignored. I shouldn't have to give good boy points. It's demeaning to me, further proving that nobody cares or respects what I want--then chores will get done for selfish motivations.

I hate feeling like I have literally worn out my welcome everywhere I would have left to go. I'm next to incapable of sustaining employment. It feels impossible to find a job that I'm fine wasting my time on and I don't think the graphic novel will ever pay for itself....... My expectations are really low. I shouldn't have to keep the apartment from being a disgusting dump singlehandedly. But........ I'm completely taken for granted for what I do around here........ and I've just about had enough.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 11

Title: Old Wounds

Warnings: none. But there’s always profanity, just an FYI

Tagging: @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @tragiclyhip​

“Well I’ve got good news and bad news,” Tyler announces, as he descends the stairs later in the evening, pausing at the front entrance to switch off the foyer light and lock the door and set the alarm before joining his wife in the living room. “Which do you want first?”

Esme glances up from the mountains of clean laundry that takes up residence at her feet and on the already cluttered coffee table. Laundry baskets of differing colours are scattered around the room. A larger one that consists of their clothing and smaller containers labelled with each of the kids’ names; the latter eventually being placed in intervals on the stairs in hopes they’ll be carried up to the corresponding rooms. For the most part, the kids are good at getting their assigned chores done. The littles enjoying a ‘sticker chart’ that signifies a treat or toy of their choosing when full, and the older ones satisfied with decent sized allowances. Despite an extremely healthy bank account and money constantly flowing in, they’re still expected to ‘tow the line’; being taught responsibility and learning skills that will help them become self reliant and well functioning adults.

She wrinkles her nose and scowls. “Depends. On a scale of one to ten, how bad IS the bad news?”

“Considering it’s our kids we’re talking about?” He drops heavily onto the couch, wincing at the stiffness in his right knee when he stretches his leg out and places his foot on the edge of the coffee table. The cold weather is aggravating it; causing the arthritis to flare up and bringing with it an incessant ache that seems to have burrowed into the bone. Two reconstructive surgeries and a host of complications later, it’s as good as that leg is going to get. Already told to be prepared for a third surgery before he hits sixty. If he makes it that far. “I don’t know. I guess a four? Five at the most?”

“So that means no broken bones, knocked out teeth, and no one is unconscious or bleeding. In other words, it’s a relatively tame night for our house. Still…” she tosses a pair of mismatched socks into Tanner’s basket. He’s particular; socks always scrunched into a ball, never matching, and his other clothes separated by colour yet not folded, preferring to do it himself once he takes the basket upstairs. “...tell me the good news first. It’s been a weird day.”

“The good news is that all the little ones are already asleep. Tanner’s on his way out but he’s sleeping in the tub in the boys’ bathroom again because TJ and Declan are being too loud. Not even the headphones and locking himself in his happy place were doing the trick. I tried.”

“Well, at least he finds ways to cope and make himself happy, I guess. The bad news?”

“Millie and Alannah are showing no signs of slowing down. So if you’re wanting to actually get some shut eye, you might want to camp out down here. It’s going to be a long ass night.”

“Maybe I’ll borrow Tanner’s headphones,” she says, then grins at him over her shoulder. “That should help fend off your snoring too.”

“It can’t be THAT bad. You’ve been sharing a bed with me for twelve and a half years. I notice you don’t ever head for the couch. You put up with it.”

“Do you know many times in the past twelve and a half years I’ve been tempted to smother you with a pillow? Many. Many. MANY times.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

“Mostly because I wouldn’t do well in jail. I’d never survive in there. And prison jumpsuit orange is NOT my colour.”

“And here I was thinking maybe I’ve survived because you just love me THAT much.”

“It plays a small part in it. But just a small one. Just so you know.”

“You’d miss me. If I wasn’t around.”

“Like a migraine,” she teases, and yelps when he lands a playful yet solid backhand on one of the cheeks of her ass. “That’s not nice. That’s not friends.”

“Is that what we are? Friends? That’s as far as we’ve come in twelve and a half years?”

“Friends with the best benefits,” she chides, and snags an unfolded towel from the pile of laundry on the floor and smacks him upside the head with it. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. You wouldn’t suddenly want to find yourself facing an extremely long dry spell.”

“I’d be alright. I have three wank files on my phone now.”

“Three? What do you need three for? And how do you even have that many pictures of me in the first place? Are you sneaking them while I’m asleep? Because that’s just...creepy...if you are.”

“Bold of you to assume that it’s just pictures of you.”

She drops her chin to her chest and stares at him pointedly.

“I’m kidding. I only need pictures of you. No one else. Well, there’s a couple of videos too, but…”

“I swear to God, if anyone ever goes into your phone and finds those? I will kill you. In the most brutal and painful way possible. Why do you need videos anyway?”

“Homemade porn. Best you can get.”

“You can’t watch regular porn like regular people?”

“I mean, I COULD. But I don’t want to. I want to watch you. Unleashing your inner porn star. Getting all freaky and kinky and shit. You should watch them with me. Be kind of hot, don’t think? Watch them and make a new one?”

“You’ve got issues. Serious issues.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my wife is a total MILF. That she looks all tiny and cute and innocent but is a freak in bed. You shouldn’t have been so eager and willing if you didn’t want me scooping you up at that quick.”

She smirks. “I thought you said I was a B plus?”

“You were. Until I got a hold of you. Now? Solid A plus, plus, PLUS.”

“So you’re finally admitting that you DID corrupt me. After twelve and a half years denying it.”

“I merely helped you build on your skills. Improve them. I was more than willing to let you experiment on me.”

“Mmmhmm. You know, I was a good girl until you got a hold of me.”

“Like fuck you were. Good girls do NOT bang a guy...for five days straight...that they barely know. Unprotected.”

“I admit, that was not one of my finer judgement calls. But I trusted you. You didn’t seem like the type that didn’t take precautions. I mean, looking like you do and having women in different ports all over the world? That was a given. But you didn’t strike me as the type that wanted kids all over the world. Or STD’s. I trusted you. For some reason.”

“You just wanted the dick. Admit it. You were willing to sacrifice all your morals and standards for it.”

“I will admit to no such things. You were just as into it as I was. You didn’t exactly turn sex down. You didn’t seem too concerned about the whole protection thing. How did you know I wasn’t some hoe crawling with Lord knows what? How’d you know you weren’t going to get the burn?”

“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”

Smirking, she cocks her head to the side and regards him with a mixture of disdain and amusement.

“You were all cute and tiny and innocent looking. Boy did I learn. Quick.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have kept me around if I was TOO cute and innocent. I knew just enough to make you want it, yet still gave you a pretty clean slate to work with. You must be so proud of yourself. Corrupting me like you have. Moulding me into some freak in bed.”

“Babe, you had a freak inside of you, just took good dick to bring it out. You are some of my best work though. You didn’t turn out too bad.”

She gives a derisive snort.

“Aren’t you glad you went along with Nik’s fucked up idea? Was it not the best decision of your life?”

“I don’t know about the best,” she teases, and drops a load of clean wash in his lap. “But you’re on my top five list.”

“Well for what it’s worth, it’s definitely the best decision I ever made. And you have to admit, the whole lack of protection thing? It didn’t turn out too bad.”

“I don’t know about that. She’s turning into quite the hell beast. You know those hellhounds on Supernatural? Millie could be their ruler. In fact, they’d be scared of HER. Although I have figured it out. Why she’s been extra bitchy lately.”

“Please tell me it’s not boys. Bad enough we had one phone here. I don’t want to find out there’s more.”

“It’s not boys. Although…” she drops down onto the couch beside him. “...that will come soon enough. Puberty. It’s puberty.”

“Excuse me?”

“It hasn’t happened yet. The big event. She hasn’t gotten her period.”

“We are NOT having this conversation.”

“As uncomfortable as it makes you, we have to have it. Because it’s going to happen. Soon.”

“She’s eleven.”

“She’ll be twelve in March. I was just shy of twelve when I got mine.”

He turns his attention to the pile of laundry in his lap. “I do NOT want to hear this.”

“I’m just trying to prepare you. The mood swings? The skin breakouts? The fact she’s starting to develop and has already asked me to take her shopping for bras…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I’m not listening to you. I refuse to listen to you.”

“...means that things are going to happen. Soon. And we need to be prepared. Especially you.”

“Why me? Why do I need to be more prepared than you?”

“Because I’ve had my period for almost thirty years. I’m obviously experienced in these things.”

“And I’ve lived with you for twelve of those thirty years. Who is the one that bears the brunt of the shit storm when you get all mean and moody and shit? Who’s the one that’s been bringing your bitchy ass chocolate and ice cream? Who’s the one that will massage your back and bring you a heating pad when the cramps are bad? Never mind that, who’s had to go to the store and buy you woman stuff?”

“You’ve been very good about it. But in all fairness, if you really think about it? I haven’t had my period that much since we’ve been together. You may have done all those very sweet and amazing things, but you’ve also gotten me pregnant with seven kids. In twelve years.”

“That is a very good point, actually.”

“All I’m saying is that things are going to happen. Soon. And I just want you to be prepared for it. I know it bothers you to think about it. Your baby girl growing up. But she is. Growing up. And she’s doing it very quickly. You need to step up your game and be ready for anything.”

“I really hate you right now.”

“Do you, Tyler? Do you REALLY?”

Leaning into her, he presses a kiss to her temple. “No. Not in the slightest.”

“I just want you to be prepared. In case it happens when I’m not home. So you know what to do.”

“You’re not leaving the house from here on out. Until she DOES get it.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make sure everything is in the house that you’ll need in case it does happen. I remember when Riley was going through puberty. My mom was totally useless. It was a disaster when I started mine. She would have been more than willing to just let me bleed all over the place. I had to stuff toilet paper in my underwear and steal money out of her purse so I could go to the store and get necessities.”

He grins. “My wife the felon.”

“So I made sure Riley would never have to go through that kind of humiliation. I made up this basket for her. Pads, tampons, a heating pad, chocolate bars, some pain killers. Everything she’d need. I’ll do that for Millie too. And I’ll put it somewhere where you can find it. So you’re ready if it happens and I’m not home.”

“Do we really have to keep talking about this?”

“Stick your head in the sand all you want, husband. It’s going to happen. Whether you like it or not. I know she’s your little girl. Your miracle baby. But she’s growing up. And it’s happening very fast and there’s nothing we can do to stop it, I’m not exactly happy about it either. This is all happening way too quick for my liking. Where the hell has the last twelve years gone? We’re going to have a teenager. Very soon.”

“Not to make things worse, but we’re going to have three in the house in just over two years.”

“You’re not helping. Seriously though. Where has that time gone? Some days it feels like we just met, don’t you think?”

“Now that I think about it, there are days you drive me as fucking nuts as you did that that first day in Dhaka.”

“Fuck you! I was cute and charming.”

“You were a pain in my ass.”

“But I was a CUTE pain in your ass. You can’t deny that.”

“You were something alright.”

“Look, just because you were having the feels for me and didn’t know how to handle it, that’s not my fault. And for the record, I would have been able to handle myself. In the market. If things went south.”

“Sure you would have. You would have been just fine. All five foot nothing and a hundred pounds of you.”

“Good things come in small packages. You didn’t need to watch me that closely.”

“Yes. I did. I very much did. You know what would have happened if Asif’s thugs got a hold of you? The end result would not have been pretty.”

“I think you use that as an excuse. I think you just wanted me that close because you WERE having feels for me.”

“I am neither going to admit OR deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ve caught on to you. You can keep lying to yourself about your motives back then, but I know what you were up to. And it’s very sweet. That you wanted to keep me safe and sound because you had feels for me.”

“Do you want me to be totally honest?”

“Always.”

“I really just wanted to keep you close so I could look at your ass. And because I was hoping to get laid. I needed you to be safe and in one piece for that to happen.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“I’m just saying. You want honesty? There’s your honesty. You were cute and had a wicked body and I was horny as fuck and wanted you to fix that. And boy, did you ever fix it.”

“And I'm still fixing it. Twelve and a half years later. You lucky bastard.”

“I am lucky.” A slow smile spreads across his face. “Very lucky.”

“It’s weird.” She turns her attention back to folding the laundry at her feet. “Sometimes it DOES seem like it was just yesterday. Where DID the time go? How did we end up old enough to have a pre-teen? I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel old enough for that.”

“The way my body is? I feel old enough to have a kid in college, never mind becoming a teenager. Which leads me to the other bad news.”

“Oh God…” Esme groans. “...there’s more?”

“These?” He reaches into the pocket of his sweats and pulls out a pair of reading glasses. “Don’t do shit anymore. I can see up close, but I can’t see fuck all far away. You know what that means?”

“Your eyesight is shit. Which I’ve been telling you for the last three years. Is it just your right eye?”

“That one’s worse.” It’s a mixture of things. The knife that Nathan had dug into his face -the sharp blade cutting deep and causing problems with the surrounding nerves- and the multitude of concussions suffered over the years. The last one five years ago had been the tipping point; causing permanent and extensive damage to the optic nerve. “ But they’re both shit.”

“When we get home you’ll have to call and schedule an eye appointment. And while you’re at it, you should call and get that hearing test done.”

“I don’t need one done. I know my hearing is fucked.”

“Fucked or not, you need one. So you know what you’re dealing with. You might need a hearing aid.”

“That’s a huge ‘fuck no’ from me.”

“I know it makes you feel old; glasses and hearing aids and arthritis and all the aches and pains. But you ARE getting close to fifty. And you’ve had a hard life. There’s been a lot of damage done. Isn’t it better to get on top of those things? So they don’t get worse? I just want you to have a good life. I want you to be around for a long while. And if that means you have to wear glasses on a permanent basis and get a hearing aid…”

“I’m sorry. Are you talking? I couldn’t hear you. It’s my old age.”

“It’s not old age. You’re just an asshole. Always have been, always will be. But you’re my asshole and I want to keep you around. And I know YOU want to stick around. Especially for your kids. So do it for them? Get your eyes and your hearing tested. Please? Because we love you, you insufferable, stubborn pain in my ass. And us loving you? That’s not going to change because you need help hearing and seeing.”

“I’ll be ugly as fuck. If I have to wear glasses all the time.”

“It’s impossible for you to be ugly. In fact…” she plucks the glasses from his hand and slips them onto his face. “...I think you’re quite sexy in them.”

“You know, you’re not half bad looking when I can actually see.”

She laughs and shoves him back against the couch. “You’re a total dick.”

“Fuck you, you love me.”

“I do. Despite my better judgement and the warnings from friends and family.”

Smirking, he lays a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into him; speaking with the tips of their noses pressed together and lips mere inches apart. “Why are you so mean to me? You’re always so mean.”

“I know. You have it so rough. I am the worst wife EVER. I’m horrible. Just horrible. How you put up with me defies all logic.”

“It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It’s my cross to bear.”

“You poor bastard,” she laughs, a palm coming to rest on the side of his face when he kisses her. Long and slow and sweet, followed by a series of small pecks and then concluded with the press of his lips against her forehead; her eyes fluttering closed and a soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It’s always been one of her favorite things; those feathery kisses placed on her brow and the weight of his hand on the back of her neck and the warmth of his body so close to hers. It’s sweet and it’s pure; intimacy at its most basic and innocent of levels. And her smile widens when a calloused fingertip softly traces the slope of her nose and his lips press against the tip. “You and your freckles.”

“Well technically, they’re YOUR freckles.”

“You’re staring at them aren’t you.”

“Not staring. Admiring.”

“Admiring what? They’re ugly.”

“They’re adorable. And you’re beautiful.” He presses a kiss to each corner of her mouth, hand smoothing wayward strands of hair away from the sides of her face and neck.

Her eyes flutter open. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. How you’re looking at me right now. Just so...I don’t know...I don’t know how to describe it. But you always do it. Your face changes. So does the colour of your eyes. It’s like you’re looking at me for the very first time all over again. Even though you’ve seen me nearly every day for the last twelve and a half years. Yet you still do it. Look at me like that. Like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe to me you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe all I see is you. Maybe because everything that is amazing and perfect in my life is because of you. All this? A place like this? My kids? Us? None of that would exist if it wasn’t for you. If you hadn’t stuck around on that bridge…”

“But I did. I DID stick around. And if it happened a thousand times, I would make the exact same decision. No hesitations. I did the right thing. No one can ever tell me different.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you put your ass on the line for a guy that was a complete and utter fucking mess.”

“Well I guess I just saw the potential,” she chides, and then kisses him; fingernails lightly scraping along the bottom of his hairline “You know what I really want right now?”

“I’m hoping you’re going to say sex, but I have a sneaky feeling that’s not it.”

“Leftover Chinese food. And my last chocolate croissant.”

“And then sex?”

Laying a hand on the side of his head, she pulls him closer; placing a series of feathery kisses along his jaw and then grinning against his ear. “Maybe.”

*****

An hour later they sit in the sunroom; the remnants of a late night meal on the coffee table, the area illuminated by strings of multi-colored Christmas lights lining each pane of glass and the soft glow given off by the space heater. It’s the kind of quiet and relaxation that is extremely rare to find especially during the holiday season; one that comes only when everything on your ‘to do list’ has been checked off. It’s a relief to have it all done; every last minute gift snagged, almost all the wrapping relegated to a very accommodating and willing Desi, fridges and freezers stocked and the house fully decorated both inside and out.

It had been a learning process; getting comfortable with celebrating the season while still harbouring painful childhood trauma and the memories of six Christmases with his first child. But Esme had made it easier; never pushing him to ‘get into the spirit’ and knowing what lines shouldn’t be crossing and learning to step back when the trauma of the past would begin to fester. Seeing her enjoyment of the holiday had helped; the excitement she shows over something as simple as a walk or a drive to look at other peoples’ lights, the joy she gets in buying things for the kids and keeping the magic alive and seeing their faces light up on Christmas morning. And he’d come around a little bit at a time; a distaste for the holiday becoming more bearable as the years went on and eventually being replaced with actual enjoyment and appreciation. And now that the hard work is done, it’s time to relish in accomplishment; a quiet house and the ambiance and the press of her head against his chest and the feel of her hair as it slowly slips through his fingers. He’d gladly stay there all the night; away from the giggles and chatter that drift down from their daughter’s room, lulled to sleep by the familiar weight of his wife’s body against his and the warmth that radiates from her. Nothing sexual about it; just quiet, soft intimacy in its purest form.

His eyes flicker open when he feels her move away; head lifting from the back of the couch and as her hair slips from between his fingers. “You okay?”

She gives a sheepish, almost nervous smile. “We need to talk.”

“So no, you’re not.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m okay.”

“Babe, nothing good ever comes after ‘we need to talk’.”

“Everything’s fine. The kids are good, I’m good, we’re good. Just something has been eating at me all day and I wasn’t even going to bring it up but I just know it’s going to keep me up all night if I don’t get it out.”

“How bad is this thing that’s been eating at you? Because the way you said ‘we need to talk’...”

“It’s not bad. On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, it’s maybe a three. A four. At the most.”

“Okay. What is it? What’s going on?”

“Before I tell you…” she turns her body to face him. “.... there’s some other things I need to say. First, I want you to promise you won’t get upset.”

“It’s obviously worse than a four if you think it’s going to upset me. It takes a lot; for you to piss me off.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘pissing you off’. Just I can totally see why you might take it the wrong way and get defensive. And there’s no reason for you to be. Defensive.”

“It’s not about the job is it? Because we already talked about that and I already said I would stay home. Or at least if I did have to go somewhere, I’d stay completely behind the scenes. So if it’s about that…”

“It’s not about the job. That’s water under the bridge. We dealt with it. And may I add, we dealt with that very well. EXTREMELY well. You didn’t get worked up and we didn’t fight and that’s a big thing for us. A huge thing. And that’s a REALLY nice change; it shows we’re a lot stronger now.”

“So if it’s not about the job…”

“I need you to promise. That you won’t get upset. That you won’t get defensive even though it might seem like you need to be.”

“I promise. I’ll keep my shit together.”

“Second, I need you to know that I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. And you ARE the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hands down. You’re an amazing husband and an even more amazing father and I couldn’t have asked for a better dad for my kids. And I appreciate you so much. Everything you do for us. For our family. How you care for us and provide for us and…”

“As nice as it is to hear all this, you’re rambling. And while I normally find that cute, it’s actually really unnerving right now. So maybe just spit it out? What’s going on? Why are you so edge? What’s got you all worked up?”

“Okay. I’m just going to ask and hope for the best. Just remember, there’s no reason to get defensive and I’m NOT accusing you of anything. It might seem like I am, but I’m not. I promise.”

“Are you going to get it out sometime today or…?”

“How friendly were you? To that neighbour the other day?”

“What neighbour?”

“The new one. The single mom. At the park. Natalie. The tall blond who looks like Sephora threw up on her face? Remember her?”

“What about her?”

“How friendly WERE you with her?”

He can’t help but laugh. “What?”

“You said you talked to her. What did you talk about?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“There’s a reason I’m asking. I’m not just asking to ask. I knew you met her and I know you talked to her and…”

“And what? What ARE you trying to ask? Because you said I shouldn’t get defensive and it seems like maybe I should. ARE you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m not. I am not accusing of anything. I know you, Tyler. I know your heart. I know you love me and that you’d never, EVER cheat on me. So I am not accusing you of that. I never would.”

“So then what the fuck? What do you mean how friendly was I? When have you known me to be friendly with ANYONE? Especially people I don’t know. Are you suggesting I did something? Because that is totally it, Esme. I fucked her...in the dead of winter...in public...with my son twenty feet away. Is that what you WANT to hear?”

“No! God no. And that’s not what I’m suggesting at all. I just want to know. What you talked to her about. That’s it.”

“Why? What the hell does it matter? You’re always on my ass about how I should be more social and make an effort to meet people. Now all of a sudden you’re changing your mind? ‘Cause you’re worried about some neighbour? What the hell…?”

“Hear me out, please,” she begs, and takes both of his hands in hers. “This isn’t about me being neurotic and my self esteem issues and my weirdness about other women.”

“Seriously? Because that’s EXACTLY what this is about. This happens every fucking time we go somewhere. You get all worked up because you think women are paying attention to me. Because you think all these housewives and mothers are so thirsty they’d actually give a fuck about me. You think way too highly of me.”

“Okay, first off, no I don’t. You happen to be incredibly attractive. The blue eyes? The smile? The body? The whole vibe you’ve got going on? The resting bitch face? The tattoos and the scars and the whole intimidation factor? It’s very sexy. Whether you realize it or not. And I know you can’t help it. You’re just naturally beautiful. I’m not blaming you for that. But I do have a reason. For being the way I am. For having the issues I do.”

“Yeah, your brain is fucked up. Just as much as mine is.”

“You may not see it...all the women that check you out and thirst over you...but I do. All the time. But we’re not talking about the soccer park or the school yard. We’re talking about the park. And Natalie. The pretty single mom.”

“She’s not pretty. I don’t think she’s pretty.”

“Are you blind? You must be. Your eyes must be worse than my thought.”

“She’s not pretty. Not to me. She’s not my type.”

“You don’t have a type. In fact, your type used to be anything that walked with a wiggle.”

“I’ve had a type for the last twelve and a half years. If you want to call it having a ‘type’. You. You’re the only one that matters to me. You’re the only woman that I give a shit about. You might as well be the only one that exists on the entire fucking planet. All I want is you. That’s it. So what the fuck…?”

“She showed up here today. Asking for you.”

“Who did?”

Esme sighs in exasperation. “Natalie. The neighbour.”

“She came here?”

“And asked for you. She came calling on another woman’s husband. You don’t find that at least a little bit strange? That she would do that? That she would show up on our doorstep looking for you? You don’t find that even a little weird?”

“I find it a lot weird. I don’t know why she’d come here. I wasn’t THAT nice. It was small talk. Nothing more than that. I was my usual pleasant self.”

“Well, you certainly made an impression on her. Enough that she felt comfortable coming here. And talking to your daughter AND your wife. Let me just say, her social etiquette needs some work. She’s not as charming and witty as she thinks she is. Her people skills are a tad rusty.”

“What did she want?”

“To talk to you. To give you her cookie.”

He chuckles. “Is that a code language for…?”

“No. She literally brought you cookies. That she made for you.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme’s eyes narrow.

“I’m kidding. That was a joke. Probably not the best time to make one, mind you.”

“Oatmeal raisin if you need to know ALL the details.”

“Worst cookie EVER. You don’t know betrayal until you bite into one thinking it’s chocolate chip and you find out it’s THAT.”

“I’m pretty sure she was also offering up HER cookie. On a silver platter.”

“And if she was? Who the fuck cares? I don’t want anything from her. I talked to her at the park. Welcomed her to the neighbourhood. That was it. Everything else is on her. If she read too much into it, that’s her problem. Not mine. I made small talk and that was it. And you know how much I hate small talk.”

“I know YOU didn’t do anything. I know you. I know who you are and what you’re like. I wasn’t suggesting that you made a move on her or led her on or anything like that. You know that, right? That I’m not accusing you of anything?”

“I know you’re not. But it does seem like you are.”

“I know. And I don’t mean for it to sound that way. It just upset me. Her showing up here. Asking for you. That is so many shades of wrong. Why would someone do that?”

“Why would a man follow someone’s wife home from the post office? Someone’s noticeably pregnant wife.”

“That’s NOT the same thing.”

“You’re right. It’s not. It’s worse. You were pregnant with my kid. You told him you were married. And he still followed you home.”

“And you took care of it. You scared the shit out of him. Knocked him on his ass. All’s well that ends well.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it. The fact some fucking asshole followed my wife home. You say I don’t notice things? How come you never notice all the men that pay attention to you? I notice it. Why don’t you?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

“It happens all the fucking time. And some of them are actually brave enough to be right out there with it. That takes a lot of balls; being that bold in front of someone’s husband. You think I like THAT? When men check you out?”

“You never say anything. You never act like it’s bothering you. If it does, why don’t you just say something?”

“Because I trust you. Because I’m secure. When it comes to knowing how you feel about me. I don’t see these guys as competition. A pain in the ass. But not competition.”

“That’s because they’re not. I don’t give a shit about any of them. I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I am perfectly happy with you. I love the way things are. With you. None of them matter to me.”

“Then why does it bother you what other women do? Why does it bother you so much? You don’t trust me?”

“What? No. I do. I DO trust you. You are not the problem. They are.”

“That doesn’t make ANY sense. How can they be a problem when I won’t let them be? I don’t give a fuck about any of them. How can they cause issues if I won’t let them? What do you think they’re going to do, Me? You can’t steal someone away unless they WANT to be. And you know what? As much as you drive me fucking insane, I am perfectly happy where I am. With who I have.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being around that. Those women. You don’t…”

“I DO know what it’s like. Guys check you out all the time. Do you see me going all neurotic about it?”

“Well, being neurotic IS my thing,” she sheepishly admits.

“This needs to stop. You being like this. It has been twelve and a half years of this, Me. And it’s tiring. I love you. And I have to tell you until my very last breath that I love you and I don’t want anyone else, I’ll do it. But it doesn’t mean it it doesn’t grate on my fucking nerves.”

“You knew I was like this. You knew my issues. Going into things. If they pissed you off THAT bad…”

“They don’t piss me off. Is it annoying, yes? Can I live with it? Also a yes. I will put up with it. Until my dying day. Because I love you. But I would give anything to put an end to it.”

“I can’t help it. Being like this. I’m not you, Tyler. You’re secure and you’re confident and you’re able to just ignore other men.”

“Because I trust you.”

“And I trust YOU. You are NOT the problem. And I know it doesn’t make any sense to you. Me worrying about other women when I know for a fact you’d never cheat on me. But I do. Worry about them.”

“Why? Tell me why you worry about them? What do you think they’re going to do, Esme? Tell me. What do you think is going to happen?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“That is NOT an acceptable answer for anyone over six. Try again.”

“I honestly don’t know. I don’t know what I’m thinking. But you don’t hear what they say. The women at the soccer park on the school yard. I do. I hear it. I hear them talking about how ugly and plain and boring looking I am and how they can’t understand why someone like you would be with someone like me,” she struggles to hold back a threatening flood of tears. “They don’t hide it, Tyler. They don’t talk about these things in secret. They make sure I hear it. And you know what? It hurts. A lot. And if I tell you something hurts me, you don’t have the right to tell me it doesn’t.”

“I’m not doing that, babe. I’m not saying it shouldn’t hurt you. And I’m sorry. That it does. That you hear stuff like that.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault. You can’t help what they say.”

“Do you want me to say something? To them? The next time I pick the kids up? Because I will. I’m not shy when it comes to telling people off. You know that. And when it comes to protecting you…”

“It would just make things worse. I can just hear them now. Talking about what a cry baby I am and how you deserve a real woman. Don’t say anything. It’ll just set them off. Things are bad enough as they are.”

“Why don’t you tell them to fuck off? You usually don’t back away from shit like that.”

“Because that’s our kids’ school and we’ve been on the principal’s shit list before and I don’t want to make things hard on our kids. But it does bother me. Hearing that stuff. And it DOES hurt.”

“But it shouldn’t. That’s what I’m saying. Just let go in one ear and out the other. Who gives a fuck what they think? What does it matter? I love you. I have always loved you. I always WILL love you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Isn’t that enough? What I think? Why isn’t that enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be. And I know it should be. I know you love me. I’ve never doubted that. Not even during those six months. Even then, I knew you did. You just needed to get your shit together. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I don’t why I’m like this. Why I can’t get past it. I think I’m getting better and then something happens and it’s back to square one.”

“Your mom fucked you up. So did Mark. You went through a lot of shit. Especially with him. But I’m not Mark, Esme.”

“I know. I know you’re not.”

“Do you? Because sometimes I’m not sure you do.”

The tears come freely now; body trembling with the force of the emotions that accompany them. And he places a hand on the back of her neck and pulls her into him; a forearm across the small of her back as her body presses tightly against his and her arms immediately circle his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she sobs against his shoulder. “I never meant to make you feel that way. Like I was comparing you to him.”

“I know.” One hand repeatedly strokes his hair, the other settling at the small of her back. “I know you didn’t.”

“Because you’re NOT him. You’re nothing like him. And I’ve never thought you are. I’m sorry, Tyler. For making you that feel that way. I never meant it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Me. He fucked you up. Badly. I’m just the guy that came after. The one that has to try and clean up his mess. And if it takes the rest of my life to do that? Then I’ll deal with it. I can’t make it better. I can’t take it all away; make it like it never happened. I wish I could.”

“I don’t want to be this way. I don’t want to be crazy and neurotic and a freaking mess.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, you’re a beautiful mess.”

She manages a small laugh. “I don’t know what to do. To make this better. To make ME better. And it’s not fair to you. To have to deal with this shit.”

“I’ve brought more shit to the table than you have. And you’ve always dealt with it. I figure it’s the least I can do. Put up with your crap.”

“I don’t want to be like this. I can’t live like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me. And it shouldn’t be up to you to do it.”

“You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my kids. I love you. It’s what we do. Help each other. Fix one another. You’re not in this by yourself.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. We’ll get you past all this.”

“What if we can’t? What if it CAN’T be fixed?”

“Then we live it. I spent the rest of my life constantly reassuring you that I’m not going anywhere. That I love you and think you’re the most beautiful in the world. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I’ll take one for the team.”

“You’re so generous,” she chides. “Always so willing to sacrifice yourself.”

“Well, we do crazy shit for love. When we get home, you should go and talk to Doctor Klein. Tell him what’s going on. How you’ve been feeling. If anyone can figure shit out, it’s him.”

“You’ll come with me, right? I think you should. Come with me.”

“You know I will. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

She pulls away to look at him, sitting back at her heels. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he declares, and lays his hands on the sides of her face and uses his thumbs to wipe away the lingering tears.

“I know all snotty nose and puffy eyed isn’t my best look, but maybe we could have sex now?”

He grins. “Maybe. Would it make you feel better?”

She nods. “Being worshipped ALWAYS makes me feel better.”

“What can I say? I’m always willing to cheer you up. Besides, your body’s a temple, babe. It deserves to be worshipped.”

“It’s a temple, alright. Ancient and crumbling. Probably haunted.”

“It’s beautiful,” his hands move to the front of the plaid shirt she wears; enormous and baggy on her tiny frame. “And sexy.”

“Even after seven kids?”

His fingers tend to opening the buttons on the shirt. “ESPECIALLY after seven kids.”

“You always have the right thing to say. Your sweet talking is improving.”

“I thought you preferred dirty talk?”

“I do. Dirty talk is my favourite. Especially YOUR dirty talk. That voice? That accent? I’m wet just thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” With a playful smirk, he forcibly shoves her onto her back; a palm on either side of her head as outstretched arms brace his much heavier and bulkier frame. “In that case, shut up and let me fuck you.”

[malicedragoness]

Baby reactions: MK guys

So this was originally supposed to be a humorous reaction. However it turned more serious and fluffy. Erron’s part is REALLY long! He requires so much more explaining and development than the other guys.

This has fluff, humor, and seriousness in it. Please enjoy!

Kabal - You’re gonna have an ‘oops’ baby. And that’s exactly what he says when you tell him you’re pregnant.

“Kabal, do you want a baby?”

“Like a living one?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yes. Like an actual baby.”

“Well, maybe later on when-“

“I’m pregnant.”

“....oops.”

Just like his powers, things go so fast when he’s in the mood. He forgets to wrap his willy one time because he was away on a mission for three months. Once he saw you, he immediately jumped you in the living room and he just. Couldn’t. Stop.

Kabal is happy, but shit he needs a minute to take all this in. He wanted kids, but he always imagined it would happen much later and he’d have his life together by then. Now he feels an immense pressure to find a more responsible job and have enough money for all the doctor/medical bills within nine months. When you start to panic because of how quiet he is, he’ll immediately snap out of his funk.

Kabal wraps you in a bone crushing hug and tells you he’s so happy he going to be a dad. It’s his dream to have a large family. He can’t wait to do birthday parties, go to Disney world, costume shopping for comic book conventions. If he has a girl she’s going to be dressed up like a Little Sister and he’s going to be a Big Daddy. He wants it all.

He’s going to be at every doctors appointment that he can get to. If he’s out of town, you better call him and put him on speaker. When he sees that first ultrasound he cries. You’re going to have twins. (I LOVE that part of his tower ending!) He so excited but he also feels so freaking macho! In one shot he was able to get two babies inside of you! He’s feeling proud of himself right now. Let him have his moment. He will also want to know the gender of the babies. He’s too impatient to wait, so don’t expect him to.

Once Kabal finds a house for you two, he’s going to get that nursery set up ASAP. It’s so much fun shopping for baby clothes and toys, he’s practically a big child himself.

“Hey babe, lets get them these nerf guns!”

“That’s for when they’re five.”

“Well...this one won’t be here in five years...they need this one.”

When you go into labor, he’s going to be that guy that asks you if you’re ok a million times until you tell him to shut up. He rocks on his heels, cards his hands through his hair, and breathes heavily. He’s so nervous. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen.

When the babies are born, he’s in absolute bliss. Kabal never thought he could love something so unconditionally like he does these babies. He holds one in each arm while you sit back and sleep. No one is going to take these babies from him.

He is definitely going to be the fun dad. Birthday parties are at the house and he invites all of the twins’ friends over. There’s a pool, bouncy castle, water guns, face painting, silly string, and lots of junk food. There’s also a mountain of gifts for them. When it’s time to cut the cake and they wish on their birthday candles, they both say they want a little brother or sister. You and Kabal talk at the same time.

“Maybe-“

“I’m pregnant.”

“...oops.”

Well...he did say he wanted a big family.

Kuai Liang - “I want a baby.” Kuai looks up at you with hopeful eyes. “Say that again.”

You do as he says, and he walks towards you with a look of amazement. He thinks you’re the most divine being to ever exist. You’re kind, intelligent, and beautiful. And now you want him to father your children.

Kuai gently caresses your face. He has a genuine smile and his eyes hold so much adoration for you. “I would be honored to have children with you.” He gives you such a sweet kiss that makes you blush as his cold hands cup your face. He will make tea that increases fertility and will also use positions that have deep penetration. He wants this baby as much as you do, and he takes this seriously.

Out of all the kombat men, Kuai is the best partner to have when you’re pregnant. He attends to your every need, no matter how silly. You want to eat a whole bowl of macaroni and cheese and a pop tart instead of a healthy lunch the Lin Kuei prepared? That’s all right with him. But he will encourage you to eat at least some vegetables. 

When it’s three in the morning and you have legs cramps, he will be right there to massage them out and give you some water. As your bump gets bigger Kuai will want you to stay off your feet more. If you need something, either Kuai himself or whomever is assigned to you will get it. Your feet hurt and he doesn't want you to strain yourself.

When you go into labor, he will keep a level head and listen to the doctors. Not once will he leave your side unless instructed to. In fact, his experience mentoring comes in handy here when he encourages you to push. Just knowing that he’s there and he believes in you, helps you through the pain of the contractions.

When the baby is born he feels as if half of his heart is living outside of his body. This baby is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. ‘I wish Bi-Han could see this’ zips across his mind unwarranted. He can’t help but cry and hold the both of you to him.

Kuai is a wonderful father without even trying. He teaches his child about discipline, honor, and respect. He has a strict schedule for them including schooling, training, and housework. They will also go to bed on time and eat healthy meals, no exceptions. The way they will bond will be through training. Most of the time it is taken seriously. However, there will be times where Kuai can’t help it and let them wrestle him to the ground. He’s such a good dad.

Kenshi - One thing about dating a telepath, they always know what you’re thinking. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Kenshi could tell you wanted children. He knows it will be a while before you ask him about it. So he takes this time to contemplate whether if he's ready for another child. He's older and missed out on most of Takeda's life. 

He feels guilty because he never got to be the father Takeda deserved. It would be so selfish of him to start a family with you, when he couldn't even be there for his own son. It wouldn't be the right thing to do. Kenshi decides he won't have any more kids, and he desperately hopes this won't break your relationship.

Takeda and Jacqui come over to visit frequently. While you and Jacqui go into one room to talk about art, the men are at the table alone. Takeda could tell something was on his father's mind, and he's too stubborn to leave until Kenshi talks about it.

He cracks and tells Takeda that you have been thinking about children recently. However, he fears that would be unfair to him as he was never around. He was more concerned about revenge than being in his only son's life. Why should he get a second chance at being a father again?

What Kenshi didn't expect was to feel a wave of sadness coming off Takeda.

"So, not only were you not there during my childhood, but you'll deny me a sibling."

Kenshi is taken aback and doesn't say anything. They have a heart to heart talk for over an hour about the mistakes they have made and what they would have done differently. Takeda wants his father to be happy. And he wants a little brother or sister to take care of.

After they leave, you put your hand on Kenshi's arm and ask him what him and Takeda were talking about. He grabs your hand and follows your voice. "Let's have a baby."

He smirks as he can feel shock, happiness, and hesitation all run through your body. "Are-are you sure?"

His hands run up your sides pulling you closer to him. Beard hair scratches against your neck as he whispers in your ear, "Yes, I am."

When you're pregnant Kenshi is a very helpful partner around the house. He helps with the dishes, laundry, vacuuming, anything you need help with. What pisses you off is when he uses his telekinesis to handle multiple chores at one time. You spend all day cleaning the house and here comes this handsome dork doing everything within forty five minutes. And he does all this with a cheeky smile, knowing you get so annoyed.

Kenshi experiences everything you do during your pregnancy. He feels your mood swings, cravings, leg cramps. He can even tell when the baby kicks and gets excited everytime. And since postpartum depression can start happening even during pregnancy, he's there to bring you back from the edge. He also knows when he needs to bring you to the hospital when the contractions start getting closer together.

After the baby is born, Kenshi is in a state of nirvana. You're relaxing in the hospital bed, Takeda and Jacqui are there holding the newborn, and he's soaking in everyone's happiness, being lost in the moment.

Kenshi missed out on this part of Takeda's life, and both of you are thankful that him and Jacqui are there to help out when they are able to.

Kung Lao - "I want a baby."

Lao looks up at you with big eyes and the widest smile you've ever seen on his face. He grabs you in a bone crushing hug and spins you around, laughing in pure happiness. He plants a big kiss on your lips and leans his forehead against yours.

You smirk at him, "So that's yes, I take it."

"I would be honored to father your children." He kisses you again and then picks you up bridal style. "Well, we better start now."

You laugh as he takes the steps two at a time to the bedroom.

When you announce you're pregnant, everyone is ecstatic for you two. Although they do have some interesting words.

"That's wonderful news," Jade says. "And also very..."

"The timing of it..." Kitana trails off her sentence.

Johnny Cage walks by and notices everyone staring at you and Lao. "What's going on?"

Lao has a big grin on his face, "We're having a baby!"

Johnny lets out a quick laugh. "That was quick!"

He wants to do his best to take care of you while you're pregnant. He gives the best back and foot massages you've ever had. If you're craving cookies in the middle of the night, he gets right up and does his best to get some for you.

However, when it comes to giving birth, he will be that dad who faints when the baby's head starts to come through. Which then takes some of the nurses away from you as they try to revive him.

I've mentioned this before, but if you have a boy his name is going to be Lao. He was adamant about the name and carrying on the line of the Great Kung Lao. You cannot change his mind.

After the baby is born, the weight of responsibility hits Lao quickly. He knew having a child wasn't going to be an easy task. He just didn't realize how much hard work goes into raising them. And he couldn't be more thankful to have you at his side.

He matures significantly and is more focused on raising your child than trying to become the best Shaolin or beating Liu Kang. After all, Liu Kang and Kitana don't have any children yet. In his eyes he already won.

Erron Black - So lets be honest. Erron in his Black Dragon days will only be your fuck buddy. He’s not committed to anything or anyone. This is the prime of his thrill riding days. So if you ask him for a baby, he’s gonna deuce out. He’s not looking for that shit, he’s looking to have fun.

Fast forward to his Outworld days. Yes, he’s 150 years young, but he’s definitely getting older. More scars, more wrinkles, and a lot of grey hair. You can tell he’s feeling it in his bones, and he’s getting to the point that thrill seeking isn’t getting to be as fun as he thought. He’s still not going to commit that easily. His parents weren’t exactly the best role models in life.

I imagine his father knocked up his mother and they just dealt with the idea that they’re having a kid now. He was abused by his dad, so when he excelled at handling guns he finally decided to shoot him. His mother was a tough woman and didn’t show any affection. She was more of a tough love kind of lady, but I suspect she slapped him around when it suited her. This is also why he’s attracted to strong and dangerous women. It’s familiar and it feels like he’ll get his mother’s stamp of approval and some type of closure. (“My Ma would’ve loved you, Cassie Cage.”)

Erron doesn’t want kids because he’s scared of that kid having the same childhood he had. He doesn’t want to be like his father and he doesn’t want anyone like his mother to bare his children. Best to forget the whole idea all together.

But then here you come along, with your irresistible smile, quick wit, and dynamic personality. And it completely threw him for a loop. How was he supposed to ignore you when you’re so damn beautiful and you can make him laugh and feel young again. He sure as hell was not gonna let some other man steal you away.

It’s still going to take time and patience for him to break down that wall he’s spent decades building before he lets you in completely. There’s going to be fights, there’s going to be him walking out to the bar to run from his feelings and his past. He’s not used to healthy relationships of any kind.

Erron does notice when you cook for him, do his laundry, and take care of him when he gets hurt. Especially one time when he had to have bed rest for a week and he was acting like a child about it. You waited on him hand and foot without even being asked to. And goddamn it if that didn’t make him love you. Once he finally breaks down his wall, it’ll still take him a couple years before even considering the idea of kids.

One day, the two of you are out on the back patio looking at the stars. Erron is strumming an acoustic guitar, humming a little song to you. You look up at him and he looks back with a slight smirk. “Erron, do you want children?”

Cue the screech sound of his hand slipping from the guitar. He freezes as he gives you an unreadable look. After a minute of silence you start to panic. You tell him it’s ok if he doesn’t want kids. You love him and you’re not going to leave if he decides against it. You just wanted to see if he was interested.

You continue to babble until he tells you to let him think on it for a while, and then he’ll give you an answer. When you agree to that he’ll continue strumming his guitar, but now he’s staring off in the distance.

The next few weeks you can feel his eyes burning a hole in your back. When you turn to look at him, he just stares at you with a heavy look.

“You all right, handsome?”

“I’m good, baby doll.”

It’s all that’s ever said.

You’re cleaning the dishes from dinner. When Erron wraps his arms around you from behind and rests his face against your neck, swaying you from side to side. He eventually turns you around and looks you deep in your eyes. His calloused hands cup your face and he leans his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

When your breath catches in your throat, he gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever received. In the few years you’ve been together, he’s never once said that. And that night is the most sweet and passionate he’s ever been with you, that it made you cry.

When you’re pregnant expect Erron to be super protective of you. He doesn’t want to take jobs that are far away, but that’s not always possible. So while he’s gone, Ermac and a few midwives are there for you. He gave them specific instructions to not let you pick up anything heavy, make sure you’re eating enough, and to go walking once a day. Walking is supposed to help you when it comes to pushing, and he doesn’t want you in anymore pain more than necessary. He wants his sugar taken care of.

Erron loves to hold you from behind and rub your bump. He can’t believe any of this is actually happening. This beautiful and kind woman is going to be the mother of his child. He never plans anything in his life. It’s mainly just seeing where the day takes him. But now he can’t wait to take them horseback riding, shooting a gun, and going hunting together.

When you go into labor he has no idea what the fuck to do. So he calls for the midwives and they get to work. Erron is sweating bullets the entire time. But holy shit, he is amazed by how strong you are. When he sees you give birth to his child, he tells you it’s one of the most amazing things he has ever witnessed.

Erron is used to not getting much sleep when he’s out on missions. So when the baby cries, he’ll usually get up and help out. He loves to hold and stare at them. Never once did he think this moment would be possible in his long life. Yet here he is with a good woman beside him and this little bundle of life in his hands. He’s trying to be the best dad that he can be. He’s so terrified of his child growing up and hating him. But he knows you’re a much better person than his Ma, so he relies on you a lot for what’s best for the baby.

Erron may not be a super fun dad like Kabal will be, but he teaches his kid how to defend themself. He’ll teach them everything there is to know about guns, hunting, and fighting. This is how they will bond, and your child will know they can always rely on their pops to protect them.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Siren & The Healer (2)

Natasha Romanoff arc

Chapter 2: The Stranger

Platonic Natasha x fem!Reader, Loki x fem!Reader (soulmates?)

Theme: With cracks between the most powerful superheroes of the earth, Natasha Romanoff does not find rest when she is assigned on a mission to find the missing pieces of a puzzling power that once nearly got into the hands- rather, tentacles- of Hydra. In order to unearth the pieces, she must dig through her own past and make a decision that might decide the fate of the earth in the coming wars.

Series: Will contain violence, death, destruction, softness, fluff, smut, friendship, and whatnot

Chapter warnings: it does not have floof. or smut. or Loki.

A/N: This was written a few years ago with an OC in mind so reader has a name but it is a reader insert.

Word Count: This weird pain in my heels has not gone away and it has been six freaking months! And I keep missing making appointments! With either of the doctors! I am so mad at myself. And I am trying to take vitamins for the same and I keep missing them too! Which reminds me I should put alarms. Which reminds me I should put alarms for this. ...and I keep missing putting up those too.

MASTERLIST in bio, love

Time: 2200 hrs

Location: Vienna

The little Iron Man funko pop had been entertaining you for the last two hours when the remaining contents of Harry’s table could not. By now you were practically half lying on his table, the chair rolling to and fro while you hummed the tune to Tender’s Nadir, bobbing your head like your little friend to the rhythm. Harry’s colleague- another assistant professor in the department- had come by to collect his stuff from his desk while you waited. “Why don’t you leave and he’ll come when he can,” he had mentioned, drawing a stare of judgment from you. Leave him? What am I? A monster? I can’ just ‘leave’ him. He’s Harry, man! Shut your trap hole!

"I'm so sorry Koshu. I had to collect some assignments from the students." Harry started with loud gasps of breath before he’s even entered the room. You were kinda bummed he knew you were there. You really wanted to surprise him. Though you had to say, you loved seeing him all flustered. It was quite a rare sight for you. You always so calm and composed friend never broke a sweat no matter how hard things were. Well, the things that were hard for you were a smooth sail for Harry. Even though you’d both come here to study and research in artificial intelligence, you had just dropped out of the course after the first semester and taken to teaching minor courses and skills while learning some yourself. He, on the other hand, had been acing it ever since he got here, winning scholarships and accolades. Not to mention the hearts of all ladies and interested men. And what did Harry do about it? Be as innocently unaware about it all as your crush on him. Stupid son of a sexy goofball!

"Look at you, all red and sweaty! I bet Sammy would love to have you now." you giggled.

Harry stood beside you for a second, blank, until he realised what you meant and flushed a fresh batch of red. Yeah, exes tend to have then effect sometimes. A part of you was glad to have that woman out of the picture- that part being the whole of you. No one wants a toxic girlfriend who wants you because you’re hot and then thinks she rather not because ‘I don’t know, Harry, you’re not as outgoing as I thought my boyfriend would be.’ She should have been glad you were on another continent at that time.

"Yeah. Whatever. Hey, I have to grade these assignments so why don't you head home. I'll finish these and then come back,” Harry admitted before wiping the sweat off his forehead. Ugh! Stop it you tease! Your inner voice was really having a day.

"What? Take them home! I'll cook us some pasta or Indian if you are craving some. Get comfy and then grade these bitches."

Harry raised his brows at you.

“That was for the papers. Not for you students....who do comprise of certain stuck ups if you ask me.”

He blinked before shrugging and nodding in agreement. Hesitating for a moment, he remained quiet, the corner of his lips twitching where it met his beard.

"Yeah, I'm comfy here. You go ahead."

It was your turn to raise arch your brow at him.

"Dude! Stop it!” you lectured, raising her hands in the air. “It’s okay for you to do the laundry but it’s not okay if I cook food for the both of us? And it’s not like I’m a bad cook that you avoid eating my hard work. This is called sharing responsibilities, something, I clearly remember, you lectured me on when we first came here. And I like cooking, it’s like a stress-buster. And I make awesome Indian food and a mean Chicken Alfredo."

“...”

“I do...don’t I?”

"Yeah, that you do."

"Thank God. So come home, you twat. Pack those things and let's move. I'm hungry. Let's go before I eat your brains."

Harry smiled sheepishly at his failed attempt for a second and then beamed with happiness from within.

"Alright. Go heat up the car. I'll bring all the material with me.”

You got up with a gush of new energy flowing inside you. Taking the keys from him, you walked for the door.

“Oh! And don't leave without me okay?" He called out from behind you, making you stop, turn and give him a narrow-eyed look. Harry laughed and dodged the duster you threw at him. "Jerk," you hissed through your teeth as you started walking towards the parking lot.

It was only seven in the evening but the sky had already bid goodnight. There were barely any students on the campus. You could hear EDM being played at a distance at some frat house or in someone's dorm. Kids, you thought to yourself, as if mocking them. And then again, you thought to yourself, kids- but now with wistful faraway happiness.

There were only four cars in the parking lot. An old Camry that belonged to a history professor who took night classes. Another one was a Bentley that belonged to a highly infamous professor of Personality Development. The man taught more about himself than about personalities. You never liked that guy.

This guy creeps me out from a mile away, your insides would always remind you.

The last one was an unknown SUV that stood a few meters away from Harry's car. It did not belong to any student or staff you knew.

You took a good look at it as you crossed it and moved to Harry's second hand, Honda. If there was anything Harry and you loved in common more than food, and a bit less than animals, it was this sweet lady. One could find notes, spare T-shirts, cologne, deodorants and much more in there. It could easily be called your second home.

Both of you had spent nights sleeping through all the tipsy- after wild parties during the first year- in this baby. This one had been with you when you’d got here and did not have a dark corner to cry in. Or when you and Harry needed to run away from the buzz of the city and escape into the mountains to rest under the stars and talk about all your deepest desires, darkest secrets and nethermost questions about life and purpose. Not to mention, you’d cleaned up this baby on Harry’s first date just so this guy would get some action- which clearly didn’t happen for this terribly shy guy.  This car had been a constant in it all and had even been knighted with a name.

“Hey Bunny! Did you miss mama? How was my girl today?” 

You were about to open Bunny’s door when your eyes went back to the SUV.

Matte black. Alloy wheels, clearly not of cheap quality. Weird number plate which was not from the state and a little metallic sword that hung from the rearview mirror inside- reflecting the lights from the parking lot right into your eyes.

Something did not feel right. You stood there for a few seconds looking in the parking lot for any sign of the owner.

“It is supposed to look intimidating.”

You jumped at the voice behind you.

A man came out of the shadows of the trees. He was wearing a grey suit and a pin bent in the shape of an eye with what seemed to be a ruby in the middle.

You closed Bunny’s door and locked the vehicle, carefully placing the car keys between your fingers so as to point them away from you and put the other hand around your bag. You took two steps back into the middle of the parking lot, standing visibly under the lights.

“I’m sorry, Sir, do I know you?”

The man stepped into the light. The wrinkles on his face made him look a bit over forty but his well-fitted suit around his body made him look younger and muscular. His grey eyes looked right into yours with a hint of a smile on his thin smooth lips.

“No, ma’am. But I have heard about you.”

You stepped further back into the most lit part of the lot.

“Can I help you, sir?”

You just now noticed the restraint in your voice- into a softer, smoother version of how you normally talked. This always happened when you were intimidated by the person standing in front of you.

“I have been looking for someone who could help me with this concept that is completely out of my league. But considering the things that are at stake, I was hoping you could help me.”

You looked in his direction, confused. More than that, you were frustrated, wondering where the campus guards were.

“I am talking about healing and meditation studies. A few kids who are visiting Europe on a foreign exchange program have shown some interest in getting certified in the course. And I heard you have some sort of experience with that thing.”

The man smiled, this time, his lips extended a bit more while his eyes still stayed grey. Your entire body feel a cold jitter all at once. His eyes. There was just something unsettling about them. Like they were looking right through your clothes, skin, flesh, and bones. 

“Oh! I’m sorry sir. I taught last semester and that was that. I no longer teach or practice it. But you can find teachers for the same more capable than me in the classes going on right now. In fact, the students can directly contact them. Their information is available on the university website.”

The man tilted his head a little as if he was questioning something you just stated.

“Really? You stopped teaching the course? But why? I met some of your students and they gave me really amazing reviews regarding your teaching methods.”

You felt drops of sweat trickle down your back. For a few seconds there, all you did was just blink and feel the fierceness of your heart trying to rise up a little. Finally, you gave a weak smile before answering. “It wasn’t suitable for me. I mean the timings and the hours I had to put in. It was sort of taking a toll on my health. So I don’t do it anymore. I don’t take classes. Neither do I freelance.”

The man was silent for a second while you felt her phone in her jacket. One wrong step and you were ready to press the button of wrath.

“So you’re telling me that healing and meditation took a toll on you.”

You let out one long tired sigh. Here we go. You’d heard that phrase before, more times than you could count.

“Yes, sir”, you muttered, your voice suddenly growing tired, “it does take a toll on you if you’re not careful.”

You wanted to take a look behind you to see if Harry was approaching but did not turn for the fear of the unknown now standing in front of you.

“Careful about what?”

“The things you work on, the ailments for example, who you work with, what energy you are going to work upon slash with,'' you stressed, though stressing as little as you could on the ‘energy’ bit.

“Oh! Like if someone was, say, in an accident, you wouldn’t treat them because that might take a toll on your health. So, you’d rather that person suffer than be treated by you.”

The statement took you by surprise. You had been thinking the man was a sceptical old pervert but here he was asking you questions a healer’s heckler noob does not play with so early.

“Excuse me?” you lost your voice a little. “Sir, it’s a lot more complica—”

The man looked away from you to take out a card from his jacket and hold it out for you to take.

“Why don’t you tell me all about it tomorrow at 8:15 am? Your ride’s here so let’s continue this tomorrow. I’m sure being a healer you have a good reason to not heal someone. Even a…” he paused, his dead eyes looking straight into yours, “loved one.”

And suddenly you were not standing in the parking lot anymore. The dead eyes stayed there with you as everything around you seemed to fade into the distance. Only the eyes, your cold body sweating and a familiar old voice shouting out for you from somewhere far away were present in the void.

Keosha.

You could almost recognize that faint noise accompanying it. A fade white noise was what it seemed to be initially. A part of your mind tried to filter out where exactly where it was coming from. 

Keosha.

It grew closer but now it was somewhat different. You thought you heard someone scream somewhere in the distance.

“Keosha!” Harry shook your arm.

You jumped back into reality, nearly a feet away from Harry’s grasp.

“Hey! Daydreamer!” He called out for you, taking one careful step towards you so as not to scare you away again. “You okay? Where did you go?”

You supported yourself on Bunny. Harry noticed the slow blinks, realising you had been living through some part of your wayward imagination that was not a pleasant one. So, he did what he always did during such times. Rubbing your back to soothe you before taking you in a light embrace.

Your heart was comforted by Harry’s presence, thanking him repeatedly for being there. Your mind was all over the place, looking around you for the cause of this sudden crack inside your mind. The old man was gone.

“Sorry I just got lost in…something. Should we go? We should go.”

Your body worked on its own, getting into the car, closing the door, putting on a radio station to drown out the echo of words left behind.

[redherring80]

Today, in adventures on a day off with adult ADHD:

I woke up before my alarm, got up, showered, took my meds and thoroughly confused our elderly dog by NOT going into the home office once I was dressed. After whatever the human vs dog version of arguing is called happened for about an hour, she finally settled down to sleep next to me while I watched random Hulu documentaries and knitted.

I intended to clean off a couple shelves in our bedroom today, as well as put away some clean laundry, after my husband got up and around for the day, as we’re preparing to move. Between some serious executive dysfunction issues, chronic pain, and the overall time constraints of working and parenting and being a spouse, I’m also limited on time overall.

Spoiler: things did not go according to plan.

I began taking care of laundry, dog started freaking out again. I go into the office to satisfy her, remember I need to file for tuition assistance with my employer. Sit down and do this. Get up, lead dog out of office, back to bedroom for laundry.

Mind you, this dog is my shadow and apparently cannot draw breath unless I am within her eyeline.

Mostly finish laundry, except for stack of single socks. Teenager requests to hang out and watch cool drama series together. Uh, duh? Yes laundry will wait. At least two hours pass chilling with the kid. Then, encourage kid to finish school assignment, go back to laundry.

I now feel the strongest urge to go through our mountain of laundry and pull every sock to be washed so they can all be paired up. I do this.

Now I end up with a production in our living room, attempting to end up with no singles. It looks like this:

A mess, I know, but mostly worked.

THIS IS NOT THE END.

I now am told that there are likely single socks hiding out in our respective socks drawers. Excuse me? Who allowed this?

Probably me.

Commence rifling through dresser drawers for any and all socks.

I have now acquired all possible socks that I can think of. I pair up all possible matches I can find and put those away.

I STILL HAVE LIKE TWENTY SINGLE SOCKS WTF

It’s now 8pm, I can’t do anything more tonight. But I really, really want to clean out all of our clothes now.

Ps - I finished all of this with my beloved brat of an elderly dog underfoot every step of the way.

[sierracolorstheworldofwords]

King of the squirrels x reader

King watches the rain from the living room window. It coats the world in silver fingers, shaking the trees like a giant holding the world in between their hands.

He waits for the thunder, for the lighting. For the clashing and banging, the flashing and striking, his shoulders shaking at the thought of all the flooding that will happen in the woods. Shivering, he draws his cape closer, steadying himself. He has to watch the rain for flooding. To assess the damage. To make sure every squirrel is inside of his bedroom, safe in his bed in all the nests he made for them.

He could feel his breathing grow heavier as the rain poured down harder, drumming against the house, he feels the air fizzle and snap on his furry arms and tail.

A flash of light fills the room, everything becoming white as a shriek escapes his lips.

When it passes, the room fills with the sound of rain again, and he knows it what comes next. Thunder roars, cracking against the sky and yelling inside of the house and in his ears as he dashes underneath the dining room table, knocking over chairs. Lighting flashes again and he whimpers, covering himself with his cape, burying his face into the white fluffy collar.

He hates thunderstorms. Every time one happens, he is always reminded of brown, drenched bodies clinging to trees, of branches knocked over and small animals crushed underneath their weight. Of birds nests destroyed and cracked eggs, of so much death. Especially during storms in the summer, where the wind shrieks and howls joyfully like a witch from a an old fairytale. He also remembers drowning. His limbs flailing and fighting the waves, arms pushing against the harsh waters, the thunder laughing and the lighting cackling as he drowned, the river ready to swallow him whole like the mouth of a mountain lion. It chewed him and swirled him in its tongue before spitting him out, not liking the way he tasted.

His breathing grows heavy as he thinks of it, and he feels his lungs constrict, like they're tied with rope, or metal rods have been wrapped around his body.

Lighting strikes again, and he flinches, whimpering as the thunder comes, shaking the house with its voice. The rain stomps its feet on top of the house, and kicks the walls as the storm laughs at him with its booming laugh, making fun of him for crying. He doesn't even notice that you're in the room till he hears footsteps.

"King?" A soft wind of a voice against the thunder, a lullaby against the explosions outside.

"King? You okay?" You're whispering, and he hiccups, his chest heaving as you kneel down in front of the table.

His sobs are so heavy, they feel like a hail on his body as he curls up tighter in shame, whimpering.

"Oh, King.. hey, it's okay.." You slowly lay down next to him, and he cries again, wanting to reach towards you, to be comforted.

"It's okay..." Your voice is so soft, like the sun shining in through a window and gently nuzzling him awake, or like a squirrels' fur. Gently, you reach towards his cheek, and rub it.

He's still shaking, sobbing as you wipe away the tears, feeling the warm salt underneath your fingers as he uses one of his clawed hands to cling to your arm. You watch him try to speak, but the words get stuck in his throat, tangled up with the sounds of tears and his heavy breathing.

"It's okay, King, it's okay.." He bawls as he tries to breathe, shoulder jolting up as he tries to calm down. "Shhh, shhh, just breathe, for me, okay? Really... slowly, okay? In through your mouth, and out your nose, okay?"

King follows your instructions as you soothe, stroking his face gently and scooting closer, cooing like a mother bird comforting her chicks after they find out they can't fly yet. Your presence reminds him of softness, of dandelion fluff and fallen feathers collected to make clothes.

"It's okay, it's okay— shh, you're safe, you're safe, and it's okay, it's okay."

King manages to open his eyes, which he didn't even know had been closed till now, and looks at you. You look so concerned, worrying over him, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes looking like two soft pools of sunshine.

He presses your hand to his cheek, nuzzling into the warm, pudgy flesh.

"You okay?"

He tries to nod, but shakes his head.

"Do you want anything?"

He nods.

"A blanket?"

A shake.

"...Um, maybe a hug?"

A nod.

Scooting over, you wrap a arm around his waist as your hand strokes his cheek.

King breathes in deeply, and lets it out.

The sky shakes again, rumbles.

He cries out, burying his face deeper into your hand. He wants to bury his nose in your neck and hold you close, hold you tight, keep you safe and warm. He doesn't want you to go back to Dark's office and go back to work, he wants you to stay, stay with him and be safe and keep him safe as the sky continues to shriek and bang on the earth.

"Oh, King, it's okay.. it's okay.. shhh, shh...." you murmur. He whimpers again, feeling tears start as wind howls, joining the thunder in a chaotic duo. He feels the house shake as another boom echoes outside.

"Here, look, how about.. we go to my bedroom, and.. play some music, okay?"

He shakes his head, and removes his grip from your arm, gripping your waist instead.

You feel his face bury itself into your hair, as his shoulders shake.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better, Kingy?"

"S-stay.. pl-please.."

"Okay, I'll stay."

King breathes a sigh of relief, sniffing and blinking tears away, nuzzling your head. You shyly nuzzle into his chest, curling your legs slightly as you cuddle him, warm underneath the cape. Gently, King puts a hand on your hair, starting to pet and stroke the soft locks.

You feel yourself fight off drowsiness, because he is so warm.. and ohhhh.. his hand feels sooo niiiiiceeee...

"...That feels so nice.." you murmur, nuzzling his chest, and wrapping your arm around his waist. "If you... if you keep doing that I'll give you uhhh.." you drowsily reach into the pocket of your suit, and pull out a red package, "Ahhh pack.. of peanut.. butter cookies.."

He smiles, sniffing, and pulls you closer. Feeling calmer now, nice and warm with you, underneath the fabric of his red cape, he feels his bare skin against your suit. You smell of laundry detergent and of perfume that reminds him of cinnamon and fall.

He feels you melt like puddy in his arms as you try to open the package, whimpering when you can't, "Augh.. nooooo.. I want some too.. I haven't eaten all dayyy.."

Giving a chuckle to the air that sounds like a mix of chopped up chitters and giggles, he takes the package from your hand, and opens it with his teeth.

"Ahhh I'm cold now, Kingy.. put your arm back on my waaaaist.. you're so waaaarmmmmmmmmmm..." you whine, nuzzling his chest again, burying your nose into his soft skin (he usually doesn't wear a shirt, unless it's for special occasions).

You hug him again as he grabs a cookie, eating it. You feel so sleepy, you haven't been sleeping lately because of all the work you've been assigned— writing reports, editing Wilford's show, helping clean up bodies, writing more reports but for different things, helping with some murders, washing the dishes- did you even wash the dishes today? Augh, you didn't.. Dark is going to be so mad.. ahhhugh.

King taps your head, and you look up.

"Open."

"What?"

"Open your mouth please."

"O-oh.. Okay.." you open your mouth, and he puts a peanut shaped cookie in.

"Good?"

Closing your mouth, you nod, chewing.

God, he is so warm? Like? AhhhhhhhHHHH?? He is so warm. You want to cuddle him all day and nuzzle his cheek and pet his hair as the storm rages outside, still thundering and booming, maybe it's because he's here, but the noise isn't as loud now. You've never told anyone this (mostly because you're used to being mocked for it, and also because you're used to dealing with it alone) but you're kind of afraid of thunderstorms, just a little bit, and maybe.. because your anxiety has been through the roof all day because of all work, the storm today didn't feel so calming today, the rain felt nice... at first, but the thunder scared you out of your wits.

That's why you went to the kitchen, to get a glass of water and calm down, until you noticed King all alone underneath the table, curled up in his cape, crying. It broke your heart in two to see him like that, not only because you considered him a good friend, but also because.. well.. you have a crush on him.

Nuzzling into his chest again, you listen to the steady beat of the rain, combined with the soft rhythm of his heart, and feel your shoulders drop. Why do you have a crush on him, anyway? Is it because he's sweet and cute and cares about his squirrels? Or is it for other reasons, like something stupid? Like maybe you have a crush on him because of his height? No, that sounds ridiculous, and in fact, he even intimidated you when you first met him.

You yawn, and feel your eyes drop down slowly as King starts to stroke your hair again.

It's probably just because he's so sweet, even though the egos often treat him like an annoying unwanted dog. That's why you became his friend.. you know how that feels like.

As you start to drift off, King lets out a sigh, nuzzling into your hair again.

You remind him of a baby squirrel, and it's so cute, the way you nuzzle into him, always giving him affection so freely, because of how close the two of you are. It's nice, usually he's pushed away by everyone except Eric, but only when you aren't here.

"King.."

"Hm?"

"You.. okay?"

"Yeah, I feel calmer now."

"...Okay.." your eyes practically roll into the back of your head as you fight off sleep, "Can.. can I sleep here?"

"Of course."

"Okay, night."

"But it's day time."

"Shhhhh..." you put a finger to his lips, and giggle, before burrowing deeper into his cape, and closing your eyes.

The storm outside is a shush of raindrops, all whispering for the both of you to sleep as the tap a soft rhythm on the walls. The storm doesn't feel so scary anymore. It feels nice, like the rain is crying tears of joy on the world so it can be reborn.

You feel King run his fingers through your hair, and tuck your head under his neck, clutching you for warmth. You're so warm... and even he wants to sleep too, even though the flashes of light startle him, you make him feel safe.

Slowly, slowly.. his eyes start to grow heavy, and all he can think about is how warm and safe he feels, and how you smell.. like sweat and cinnamon, you always smell like cinnamon, with a little bit of vanilla...

King yawns, and you yawn in response. He clings to you tighter, and kisses your head. He fills full, his chest and body feel so light, almost like he's floating on a cloud. He listens to your breathing slow, becoming a whisper in the air, accompanied by the soft sounds of sleep. He smiles, and wraps his tail around you, flickering his brown ears on the top of his head, listening for any danger.

There isn't any.

It's just the both of you, softly holding onto each other for warmth, and surviving the storm. He never thought he could have anyone to comfort him before, but now, he has you.

With that thought, he feels everything slow, as he finally closes his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of the rain.

An: I tried my best to write present tense, and I’m actually quite proud! Sorry if the formatting is a bit weird, Tumblr is being wonky.

@matronofthevoid (sorry it took so long to post fam)

[tier-k]

What Binds Us Together, A LoZ Fanfiction

Hi! This is a small section of the Legend of Zelda FanFiction I just finished! Feel free to leave feedback! You can find the full version here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13257086/1/What-Binds-us-Together

Sheik lay awake, staring out at the crescent moon hanging low in the Western sky. What if Link was the only one who was safe? He hadn’t yet tried to harm Sheik with anything more than fists. Those hadn’t worked, but perhaps a blade would? Sheik thought that was unreasonable, but couldn’t shake the concern. The Goddesses loved their Hero. Of course they would protect him. But nobody loved Sheik, and if they died, they doubted the Goddesses would care. 

‘You’re the only one in love!” Link had said. Sheik knew this wasn’t true. Maybe they had thought that Link wasn’t such a bad person. Maybe they had stared at his sky blue eyes as they made their plans and thought of the bluest mountain skies, maybe they had spent most of their life thinking about this boy and preparing to kill him. But none of that meant that Sheik was in love. Obsessed maybe, but not in love. 

But then why was Sheik so upset that Link had actually left them alone in a hostile city? Sheik didn’t have an answer. 

The sun rose, and Sheik packed their things, preparing to leave. They had saved the king, and they couldn’t kill Link on their own, it was time to go home. 

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Link’s anger had cooled by the time he had snuck back into his room in the castle. In the morning, he decided, he would talk to his father about Cousin Frennen, and ask for his father’s permission to travel Hyrule. Zelda was still waiting for him in Kakariko, much to his father’s displeasure, so he didn’t have much time to waste here. 

He slept fitfully, and in the morning he went straight to his father’s chambers. 

“Link,” the king said, sounding none too happy to see his son. 

“Father,” Link replied. “I must speak with you. In private if possible.” He eyed the attendants flitting about the room. 

The king waved them out and sat heavily behind his imposing wooden desk. He looked tired, his eyes sunken in their sockets, his skin pale and clammy. “What now, Link?” he asked. Even his voice sounded tired. It lacked the anger of the previous night, which reassured Link just a bit. 

“I tried to tell you last night,” Link began. 

Instantly his father’s eyes narrowed. 

Link hurried to get the words out before his father could interrupt. “Cousin Frennen is the one plotting to kill you. Shei-- er, someone else has dealt with the traitors in our army but he’s bound to try again. He’s the one who kidnapped me, and the reason why Zelda got poisoned.” Link stopped to gather his thoughts, but rushed on before the space was enough to warrant a response. “Also I want to go on a journey across Hyrule. Zelda said she wants to come with me. I hope we can have your permission,” Link said. 

The king’s frown had grown heavy while the prince spoke. “Duke Frennen is loyal to me,” the king said. He started to say more, but his voice what cut off by a coughing fit. 

“Father!” Link exclaimed, eyes widening with horror. 

Blood stained the handkerchief that the king had used to cover his mouth. 

Suddenly, something clicked in Link’s head. There had been a particular cup-bearer at the dinner last night, one who had refused the other nobles bids for her to fill their cups and had served only the king. He shot to his feet. “I’ll get the doctor!” 

The king continued to cough as Link sped from the room. 

 ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Sheik paused in their stealthy escape from the city, crouched low in a waterway. Ahead of them, they could hear whispering voices. The tunnels curved in such a way that their quiet words were carried clearly to Sheik’s ears. 

“Was the mission a success?” 

“It was. Our infiltration party was caught and all of them murdered, but they served their purpose as a distraction. The king drank the poison in his wine last night.” 

Sheik mentally swore. 

“Excellent. Master Frennen will be very pleased.”

Sheik heard the rustling of paper and cloth as something traded hands and was slipped beneath water-logged clothes. 

“May the dark sun shine upon you,” one of the voices said. The other repeated the phrase and Sheik crept hastily back around a further corner as two sets of footsteps went in opposite directions, one towards the tunnel’s exit, one back towards the city.

Sheik mentally swore again, this time in Sheikah, and turned around. If Link died, that was fine, but if the King died, Sheik would be breaking their word to protect him. There was still work to be done before Hyrule would be safe.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Zelda heard many things during her time in Kakariko. As soon as she was well enough to stand, she had begun helping the doctor around his shop. His hobby was studying new and interesting plants, which Zelda enjoyed immensely. Sometimes, she would work in the front of the shop, giving the people that came to the doctor for help the herbs and medicines he assigned or selling them various supplements and teas. In her time off, she spent almost every minute in the doctor’s lab and greenhouse studying the wide variety of unusual plants he had collected. It made the time go by quickly, and kept her from dwelling too long on how things were going back at Hyrule Castle. She hoped everything had gone well. 

In addition to a range of herbal knowledge, Zelda also heard rumors. One popular rumor was the story of the witch-summoner and her demon that had laid waste to a traveling band of mercenaries not too far from the village. This one made Zelda smile quietly to herself. But the piece of gossip that really caught her attention was a rumor about the disappearance of the Forest Sage. She couldn’t help but wonder if the strange dreams she’d been having and the growing unrest across Hyrule had anything to do with that. As of late her nightmares had been getting worse and worse. Once shadowy, vague shapes were beginning to solidify into figures and fears. Zelda wasn’t sure what they meant yet, but she was convinced that they were more than mere nightmares. 

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Link was sitting by his father’s bedside in the infirmary when the doors slammed open and a squad of guards marched in, hauling a struggling figure between them. 

“Prince!” 

Link recognized the voice immediately; it was Sheik. 

“Quiet!” snapped one of the guards, swinging his spear. Link heard a grunt of pain and the sound of Sheik’s body hitting the floor.

“Stop that!” Link ordered, getting to his feet. “Let him go, he’s no danger to me.” 

The soldiers gave him an incredulous look. “Sir, this is the monster that murdered 16 of our men last night and tried to assassinate you not a full month ago.” 

Link cringed at the number. He took a breath. “I know,” he said eventually. But he wouldn’t have come here unless it was something important. Out loud he said, “Even so, release him, but leave him bound. I will speak to him on my own.” 

“Your majesty-”

Link glared at the guard, silencing him. 

The guards shuffled from the room, giving Sheik dirty looks that promised pain as they left. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Sheik awkwardly got to their feet, careful not to trip on the chains binding their ankles together. 

“Why are you here?” Link asked. 

Sheik’s red eyes locked onto Link, and he could practically see Sheik fighting down the urge to say something offensive. Instead, when Sheik spoke it was only to give Link directions. “Hidden in the bindings on my left thigh is a small packet and a letter,” they said. “They contain information regarding the poisoning of the king. Though I see my information comes too late.” 

Link turned back to look at his father. Only minutes before he had been well enough, now he was asleep on the bed, waking up every few minutes in coughing fits. “The doctors don’t know what type of poison was used,” Link said. “So perhaps you can be useful after all.” Link got up from his chair and moved over to Sheik. 

“Wait,” Sheik said, taking a shuffling step away from Link. “Unbind me, and I shall give you the evidence.”

Link snorted. “No way. You killed 16 of my men, a whole group of mercenaries, and would have killed me too, I know how dangerous you are.” 

Sheik had no good response to that, so they settled for “You suck.” 

“And you smell like a soldier’s dirty laundry,” Link replied. He took out a knife. “Don’t you dare cut those!” Sheik snapped, trying to move away again. 

Link merely reached out and grabbed their arm. “Shh,” he said, holding Sheik more or less still as he cut through the wrappings on Sheik’s leg. 

Sheik’s string of rude names was ignored as Link picked the note and oiled leather envelope off the floor where they had fallen. He moved to opened the envelope. 

“Don’t open that!” Sheik said. “If you breathe it in, it could kill you.” 

Link gingerly set the envelope aside. “Poison, got it.” He opened the letter. “This is hard evidence that Cousin Frennen is plotting against my father,” Link said. “Everyone will have to believe me now.” 

“Yes, I have saved the day, now release me.”

“No.”

“I just saved the king’s life! And yours… Damn.”

“True, but you also killed a lot of people.”

“They deserved to die.”

Link shook his head and walked back to his father’s side. 

“Ungrateful jerk. I shouldn’t have come to help you,” Sheik grumbled. 

The king did not open his eyes, but Link hoped he could hear him. “I’m going to save you, father. The doctors can find an antidote now. I know you don’t like the idea of me traveling, but I’m going. I’m sorry. I’ll stop Cousin Frennen and protect you and Hyrule.”

Sheik watched the exchange impassively, but in their mind, a small flicker of concern blinked into life. Here was a boy destined to be a Hero choosing to take a hero’s path. The boy would become a man, and if they didn’t do something quickly, Sheik would become exactly like those before them. Link had to die before he realized his role as the Goddesses’ Hero.

[joemunch]

Blog Post: 11/10

I realize that I have not been posting much, which I must apologize for. I will try to make up for it by encompassing much more in this post, what I have lacked otherwise. Nonetheless, I understand the failure on my part and hope that this can serve as somewhat of a correction for my slacking.

I should begin with how I found this assignment on portraits, the answer to which is difficult. I obviously do not think it was a bad assignment, but I really do not like people as subjects. When talking to stranger-strangers, both they and I were nice to each other, but would not let me take their photos. As for friends, they too were unreceptive to having their portraits taken… They did not want their “ugly mugs” to be shot and did not want to “subject people to that.” So, I ended up forcing my family members to take photos for me, as I was more comfortable forcing them to do that than I would be with friends. Though, even they, for the most part, would have preferred not to have their photos taken. I despise confrontation; so, it was difficult for me to encapsulate what the assignment would normally require in telling people what to do, how to move, how to look, etc. 

I tried for most of my portraits to add elements of reality—everyday situations and environments that are relatable yet tell a story. My favorite shot of mine was probably of the laundry room, solely for the environment and story, but the photo itself did not have the best photo controls, I feel. The lens had gotten water on it from the rain earlier in the day, and after wiping it off, it still produced a slightly blurry shot.. Compounded with the printer’s issue with an emphasis on orange and blue, the photo did not come out as clearly as I would have liked, with a distorted color copy produced. The lighting in my house is horrible since it is an old house, and that also hindered my ability to take a good shot as I struggled to find proper camera controls. 

As for the artists that I have researched, I will begin with Tina Barney. I particularly like her “Editorial” work displayed on her website. The photos here display people in their homes and work environments—in their element. I cannot decide my favorite piece here, stuck between two. The first is the photo found above. I tend to enjoy the environmental portraits for the stories they tell and the feelings they evoke rather than the framing, camera controls, etc. since I am still learning those elements. For this picture, I would assume it is an artist in his workshop standing in front of his current work. All of the clutter in the room shows the process of the painting and that it is not some seamless, easy method but that to produce art can get messy. The man himself is standing in a black suit, which contrasts with the clutter and color of the environment. Here, he is recognizing that his portrait is being taken, put on a suit to look appropriate (I doubt he wears that while creating), but did not clean up the room so that it displays his process. Below is the other picture that I like for its simplicity in capturing the reality of their home, the comfort they feel (in “normal” clothes, the woman is not wearing shoes), the relationship they have.

I made my way to the photography studio this week to take some photos. I tried to mimic the work of Kasten from the documentary clips shown in class where she used glass to capture the light, but my attempt became much more basic (there were only 3 sheets of transparent plexiglass to place together). I still tried to capture from different angles the light and shadow created through them, but this was difficult to do without disrupting the layout to eliminate the background of the room (only capturing the white backdrop). I will have to bring my own plexiglass to the studio the next time that I shoot so that I can set-up a more elaborate design. 

Art gallery displaying works of Anastasia Samoylova.

Mountain Peaks, of series Landscape Sublime. Anastasia Samoylova, 2013.

Above are works of Anastasia Samoylova, who I found when researching constructed image photographers. Many of the artists that surfaced had many more 3D constructed images, but her portfolio had many, if not mostly, 2D constructed images, using colored glass and prints assorted into a fragmented, both in light and layout, photograph. Of her work, I like how vibrant her photos are, and the colors that she incorporates. In the gallery, the photos on display all showcase different styles, a more black and white, more of a single color and its various shades (like Mountain Peaks of the series Landscape Sublime)

I used to think that I was creative, but this project has tested that thought! With more inspiration, though, I think I will have more ideas for shooting now. Using these examples and those that I have seen from the other class’ prints, I have a better idea of where this project can be headed and how far the edits can go. I want to bring more of my own elements into the photos, bringing my own glass sheets, cards, paper, photos, etc.