#i had completely misinterpreted the Neck Area

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (15/51)

Chapter 15: Interview

Ray only had to traverse a few blocks to reach the school. As he lumbered along, he made conversation with Pedro. “I’m so sorry about kicking you with my shoe. I should’ve been paying better attention,” Ray admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“It’s okay,” Pedro replied softly. As he continued to recline in Ray’s hand, gazing up at the handsome giant, he thought to himself it was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to him. 

“Why are you going to the school anyways? You said you have an interview?” 

“Yeah. A job interview, with the principal of the school. They’re seeking to hire a human counselor.” 

“Oh, so with Mr. Henderson?” 

“Yeah!” Pedro responded with surprise. “You know him?” 

“Yes,” Ray confirmed. “He’s a very nice man. To be honest, I’m surprised he didn’t offer to meet you at the wall. He’s typically considerate of other’s needs.” 

“Oh, he did,” Pedro confessed sheepishly, fiddling with his hands. “I turned him down. I thought... I’d be showing weakness if I accepted. I thought I could make it myself. Boy, was I wrong.” 

Ray couldn’t help but chuckle, sending a bass rumble through Pedro’s body that made him swoon. “You’re a brave little thing, aren’t you? I bet you’ve probably never seen a giant for real until now, huh?” 

Pedro chortled. “You got me. If I had known just how BIG everything was, I might have taken a different approach. But hey—I got to meet you! So, I’m glad things worked out like they did.” He beamed idiotically, completely lovestruck. He couldn’t stop himself. Cupid’s arrow had shot through the mushy beating core of his heart. 

Pedro’s obvious infatuation didn’t escape Ray. He wasn’t sure what to think. He tilted his head slightly, examining the human in his hand. He was cute. Ray had a strange urge to pet him with his finger like a tiny animal, but he restrained himself. The man was so small, that perhaps he was misinterpreting the signals. Ray couldn’t see any reason why a little human would be interested in him, of all people. Sure, he knew a few giant and human couples, like Joey and Eren, but they were an anomaly. It wasn’t a normal reaction to be smitten, especially since this was Pedro’s first time meeting a giant. He was probably just very nervous and embarrassed, which would explain his odd mannerisms.  

Ray dismissed his earlier observations as hopeful fantasy. For some reason, he felt a mild disappointment, but he let it go. Now was not the time to entertain self-indulgent delusions. “Here we are,” he remarked to redirect his thoughts, pushing open the big iron gate to the school grounds. Pedro sat up in his hands and surveyed the area with undisguised awe. Ray watched him with an amused smirk. He headed toward Milton’s office. Since class was in session, the hallways were empty. Pedro peeked into the classrooms as Ray passed by, but from his vantage point he couldn’t see the human desks. He could only see giant students, easily large enough to grab him up in their hands. Anxiety wormed its way into his psyche. Would he be able to handle working here? 

The door to Milton’s office was closed, so Ray knocked. “Uh, come in!” Milton called. Ray stepped inside and changed colors, blanching and reddening in a mess of emotions. Sitting across from the principal was Chester, along with Jackie, the unfortunate human who had ended up inside his stomach earlier that day. Ray was abruptly overcome with nausea and humiliation. He hastily entered the room and dropped off Pedro on the desk. He hated to leave so brusquely, but he couldn’t stand the pressure. He knew Milton would take good care of Pedro, so he didn’t need to worry about him. “See ya,” he mumbled to excuse himself as he rushed out the door, sweating hard. 

“Wait, Ray!” Milton called, but he was gone. “What was that all about?” Jackie and Chester exchanged knowing glances and giggled to each other. Now that Jackie was safe, they could find humor in the situation. Milton parted his lips, ready to ask for an explanation, when his eyes drifted downward to Pedro. The poor man was sitting on the gigantic desk, bewildered to be suddenly abandoned in front of two giants towering over him. 

“Oh, you must be Pedro. I’m Principal Henderson,” Milton introduced himself genially, intertwining his hands on the surface of the desk. Pedro nodded dumbly, craning his neck back to look up into the giant’s compassionate face far above. He felt dizzy and overwhelmed at the height of the man, as if he were conversing with a tall, multi-storied building. Behind him, Chester leaned forward over the desk, inhaling the new human’s scent with interest. He imagined the human would taste sweet, like chocolate, judging by his fragrance. He salivated, licking his lips, and a drop of spittle landed on the surface of the desk, making Pedro flinch. Milton gave Chester a stern look and he backed off, grinning apologetically. He scooted his chair back and nibbled on Jackie with his lips instead, massaging her in his hand as she returned his affection. 

Ignoring the display behind Pedro, Milton began the interview. “So, Pedro, do you think you’ll be able to handle working on the giant side of town? I know it’s not easy for a human. We’ve had this position available for a while, and I think you’re the first applicant who’s gotten this far without backing out.” 

“Y-yes, I think so,” Pedro confirmed. He coughed, and tried to exude more confidence than he was feeling. “I can handle this. And I think I’m a good fit for the job. I have some experience working with children, in my previous position as a social worker. I have the skills necessary.” 

“That’s great!” Milton replied with a comforting smile. “Basically, we just need a point of contact for the human students to go to, if they need help.  Someone that can check in on each student periodically, make sure they are doing okay. Somebody they would feel comfortable talking to, who is... approachable.” He sighed, creating a big gust of wind. “I do my best, but... I am still a giant. I’m not always the most accessible to a new student when I’m the big guy on campus, both in a bureaucratic sense and when I’m literally hundreds of times their physical size. That’s where you come in.” 

Pedro leapt to his feet and nodded, eyes fiery with passion. “I’ll be your man, sir!” 

“Excellent!” Milton answered. “Now, in terms of accommodations... currently, we don’t provide housing for staff. I suppose if you want, you could stay in the boy's dormitory...” 

“Ugh... I think I’ll pass on that,” Pedro said. “I can just... commute. I’ll figure something out.” He paled slightly, remembering his prior adventure on the way to the school. What was he getting himself into? 

“Alright.” Milton scrutinized him with an intense look. “Will you be okay? Would you like me to at least take you back to the wall for today?” 

“That would be appreciated, thanks.” The giant offered him his hand, easily bigger than his dining room table. Pedro gulped, hesitating. As much as he had fantasized about giants, being faced with one in real life was still very intimidating. His heart thumped hard against his ribs as he forced his body to move, climbing up into the colossal hand. He commended himself for being brave, even as his stomach lurched when the giant stood up. 

“Chester, can I trust you not to eat anyone while I’m gone?” Milton questioned seriously. Pedro blanched. 

“I’ll keep him in check,” Jackie assured him, nudging Chester in the chest with her elbow. Chester grinned mischievously. Milton shook his head with exasperation and walked out. Pedro remained silent for a while before he finally mustered up the courage to speak. 

“Is that something I need to worry about?” he piped up timidly. 

“Hm?” Milton had been lost in thought, worrying about having Chester at his house around Millie. 

“Being... eaten?” Pedro clarified with a shudder. 

“Oh no... that’s not too common around here. That giant I was speaking to is a bit of an exception. Most giants don’t eat people,” Milton explained. “Just... exercise caution when you’re around strangers.” He grimaced. Too many humans in his life had been menaced by cruel giants for him to forget such unpleasant matters. Pedro was unnerved by the implication that “most” giants didn’t eat people, not “all,” but he let it go for now. After all, there were humans living just fine on this side of the wall. 

Traveling by giant was much faster for Pedro than walking on his tiny human legs, so they reached the wall swiftly. Milton released him to the ground next to the door. Even when crouching down, he towered over the smaller man. “Don’t be afraid to reach out to me for help,” Milton said. “If you need me to come pick you up to take you to your new job, I don’t mind. It’s not significantly out of the way for me.” 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” Pedro responded. “See you Monday then? Since today is Friday?” 

“Yes, we’ll get you onboarded Monday,” Milton confirmed with a gentle smile. “See you then!” He stood back up, his head reaching the heavens. Pedro gaped with amazement as he stared upwards. The gargantuan man gave a friendly wave as he ambled off, quaking the ground with every step, until his lofty figure disappeared beyond the curve of the horizon. Pedro stood for a moment, taking in the scenery of the giant landscape. The scope of everything was mind-boggling, yet he was excited to embark on a new adventure. His dreams were coming true. 

He retreated back to the human side, passing through the small door and the tunnel through the wall. As he left, he thought about the handsome giant cop who had helped him. Ray. Why had he left before Pedro even had a chance to ask him for his number? Pedro lamented his cruel fortune, to meet the giant only to have him vanish in a flash. He probably had no chance of ever seeing him again. Honestly, he probably had no chance with him romantically anyway. Pedro was likely chasing an impossible fantasy. Yet, Pedro was head over heels, and he wasn’t the type to give up easily. He would find a way. 

Meanwhile, as Milton returned to the school, he pulled out his cellphone and called his girlfriend Millie. She answered right away. “Milton! Why are you calling now? Is everything alright?” 

“Don’t worry, everything is fine, my love. Um... I’ve invited some guests over to stay the night, if that’s okay.” 

There was a long silence from the other end of the line. “Who? Giants?” Millie sounded scared. She had made a lot of progress with warming up to friendly giants like Joey, but strangers still made her skittish. Milton mentally chastised himself. He should’ve checked with her before giving permission to Chester. However, imagining Chester staying out all night without supervision, with no place to stay or food to eat to suppress his appetite, filled him with just as much concern. 

“Yes. A giant man named Chester, and his human wife Jackie. They’ve traveled a long way to meet me, for they wish to enroll their half-human son at my school. However, they have nowhere to sleep for the night, so I opened our home to them.” 

“I see. O-okay. It sounds safe enough.” Millie was uncertain, but she trusted her giant boyfriend to protect her. Milton omitted the fact that Chester went to Maneaters Anonymous with him: He didn’t want to burden Millie with unnecessary details that would frighten her more. He would keep her safe, without a doubt. 

“I’ll see you tonight, my little ray of sunshine,” Milton cooed, and hung up the phone. He returned to his office to find Chester still sitting in the same chair, obediently waiting for him. 

“See, I didn’t eat anyone,” Chester announced proudly. “Even if the smell of all these humans is... irresistible...” He slopped his tongue across his lips, drooling profusely. 

“Are all the giants like this, where you’re from?” Milton asked. Chester was always evasive when discussing his homeland, and Milton suspected he was hiding a secret, but he was considerate enough not to pry at the meetings. However, with Chester now in his personal office, and staying the night at his home, he felt it would be appropriate to ask more probing questions. 

“Yup,” Chester proclaimed. 

“Unfortunately,” Jackie sighed. 

“That must make things difficult for you, Jackie,” Milton remarked, redirecting his attention to include her in the conversation. 

“Yeah, though I have Chester here to shield me from harm. I am more worried about our son. I can always return to the human realm—erm, I mean, where the humans live. I can’t take our son with me, for he is far too large and will frighten others. So, his life among the giants has been very sheltered and isolated. It’s been causing quite a strain on all of us, lately, as he grows older and wants to spread his wings. I just want the best for him. I want him to be happy and have a bright future ahead of him.” 

“I see.” Milton pondered her words. “We’ll do the best we can, to foster a nurturing and welcoming environment for him here. I promise you that.” 

“Thank you,” Jackie replied. Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. The giant students, whooping and hollering, rushed out of their classrooms in a stampede, in anticipation for the weekend. The human students weren’t far behind, racing along the marked pathways on their bicycles. Chester watched the humans with an unfaltering predatory intensity that unsettled Milton. He sensed, under pressing circumstances, Chester could be a very dangerous giant to humans, even when he was trying so hard to be good. He hoped he wouldn’t regret bringing him around his precious little Millie. His anxiety was spiking as he considered what could go wrong. He wouldn’t be able to forgive Chester if he attempted to eat Millie. He’d kill Chester before he’d let that happen. 

He waited for the halls to clear out before guiding his guests out of his office, locking the door behind him for the weekend. He led the way, keeping a close eye on Chester as the other giant followed. Chester was calm, caressing Jackie with his thumb as he walked. He seemed to be doing okay with his cravings. Milton decided he would prepare a hearty meat dish for Chester as soon as he got home. He’d keep Millie close. Everything would be fine; he was worrying over nothing. Right? 

Chapter 16

Chapter 1

[galactichelium]

Really starting to wonder how long it's gonna be before I can see a rheumatologist now. Like. On paper I was only supposed to be on the waitlist for "up to 365 days", but in reality, way too many fucking people need to go to the rheumatology clinic. I was told by a different gp that the rheumatology waitlists are notoriously very long and wasn't surprised when I told him I had already been waiting a year. It's now been almost 14 months ! I love the public healthcare system /s. But at least it's free I suppose :/

Now Because it has now been over 365 days, I was asked if 1. I still wanted to be on the waitlist, and 2. If I wanted to be put on a separate list for basically "if someone else cancels an appointment I can come and snatch theirs". So I am now on That list. But I have a feeling that if waiting on this list for over a year wasn't surprising to my doctor... a lot of people are probably on that list. Augh.

Extra 2/3 paragraphs below the cut that aren't necessary to read but go a bit more into detail

How long will it be until I have a clue what is wrong with me and it doesn't feel like it's all just in my head. Because the blood tests came back negative for any of the usual indicators of rheumatoid arthritis, but that doesn't necessarily rule it out completely. But it could possibly be other things too.

I just found out a few months ago that my dad has ankylosing spondylitis so that's likely at least some of my problem, as I share the problems that he has with that in the same areas. And he said his problems with it started around the time that mine did (12 - 14). Though almost certainly not exclusively my problems because this doesn't come with hand pain afaik, and he only has minor hand pain. Whereas my hand pain is I'd say slightly more significant than my neck/shoulder pain. Separately from that, my dad has a generic "arthritis" diagnosis as well, but it seems to present mostly differently from whatever I have going on so.

(To clarify, bc it was misinterpreted by a gp when I was 15 or 16. The neck/shoulder pain is in the joints where the neck joins the shoulders + where the shoulders join the arms. Same as my dad. This isn't just "computer usage" pain, although I have that to a minor extent too.)

[doodlemancy]

revised version of my doodle of Everyone’s Favorite Girl, bc people wanted a sticker (here is the sticker)

[littleaxebad]

Do the Dew!

I’m running into Horny Jail, slamming this down on the fucking table in front of @deadlilmoon and @ill-heart and running out again.

[I’m fucking exhausted and I need a break, but it’s not like I’m going out to “buy cigarettes” or anything.]

A public vending machine denies Jason his soda, and Salim jokingly suggests he try shaking the machine. Jason dramatically misinterprets that, in a sexy way…

“I need a drink.”

They were walking home after dinner with Rachel and Nick. It was late, and a Tuesday, so not many other people were around.

“You shouldn’t have had that macaroni burger.” Salim chastised.

“It’s called Mac’n’Cheese, babe, and it was delicious.”

Salim continued to look unimpressed but Jason was too busy scanning the area to notice.

“There!” He pointed down a dark alley. Salim cast a disapproving eye into the darkness, lit only by the neon green emanating from a lone vending machine.

“Fucking ey,” Jason pulled Salim with him, “Mountain Dew.”

It was almost 11pm and there was no one else in sight. The sound from a nearby highway provided an adequate backdrop of cars and their horns. Salim leant against the side of the machine as Jason fed it dollar notes and made his selection. The machine clunked, whirred, and then… nothing.

“Excuse me?” Jason asked the machine incredulously. The machine didn’t respond. 

“You motherfucker!” Jason kicked the machine but it remained stubbornly unresponsive. He started pushing random buttons while Salim laughed at him.

“The fucks so funny?” Jason asked through gritted teeth, as he slammed his palm against the Mountain Dew logo. 

“You are! Why don’t you try shaking it next?”

“That sounds like a two man job,” Jason responded flatly, before his expression shifted dramatically, like a lightbulb went on inside his mind. He cast a quick glance up to the still-empty street and then back to Salim.

“Wanna help me?”

Salim had stopped leaning against the machine, and had taken two steps backwards. Something in Jason’s expression told him Jason did not mean to shake the machine with his hands.

“We’re in public.”

“There’s no one around. It’ll be exciting.”

Salim looked over his own shoulder, then Jasons. The younger man was right. The streets were deserted and the noise from the highway was pretty loud.

Salim huffed out through his nose. But when he looked back into Jason’s eyes he was smiling. 

“Alright, but if this doesn’t dispense a can, when we get home I get to tie you to the headboard and fuck you with my fingers.”

“That’s not a threat.”

“I’m not finished. You also have to clean the kitchen.”

Jason thought for a split second, then shrugged. “Deal.” Then he grabbed Salim by the shoulders and pressed him against the side of the machine, hidden from the street, partially in complete darkness. Through the fabric of his dress shirt, Salim felt the side of the vending machine. It was pleasantly warm and it vibrated to the rhythm of its internal engine. 

Salim slid his hands around Jason’s slim waist and pulled the American closer, pushing their hips together. Jason kissed him hungrily, tugged on his hair and moaned into his mouth.

“How long have you been holding onto this energy?” Salim pulled back for air, and pushed his hands roughly under Jason’s shirt.

“All fucking night - it should be illegal for you to wear tight pants.”

Salim laughed and peppered kisses across Jason’s jaw line and up to his ear, nipped at his earlobe playfully and dragged his fingers down the muscles of Jason’s back. 

“So, how are we going to do this?”

Jason pulled his head out from where it was buried in the crook of Salim’s neck, “turn around.”

“Oh?” But Salim did as he was told. 

“Honestly I was sort of planning to fuck you in the bathroom but Rachel gave me the stink eye all night… still - got this.” He held a travel sized bottle of lube up to the light.

Salim laughed again, bracing his arms against the side of the machine and pressing his forehead to them, “there is no one else like you, Jason.” “Better fuckin’ not be,” Jason whispered into the baby hair at the base of his skull, which made Salim shiver. He was quiet while Jason pulled his trousers down roughly, but he couldn’t hold in the moan that escaped when Jason started prepping him with two lubed-up fingers.

“Why…ah! Why does that smell like candy?”

“It’s cherry flavoured, babe.” Jason’s voice had dropped a few octaves and was tinted with lust. He stretched Salim with practiced accuracy, scraping over the older man’s prostate with one hand while he worked his own cock to hardness with the other. Salim pressed back into his hand, unable to control the roll of his hips at the delicious contact.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot for me, babe," Jason whispered to him, “so fuckin’ tight and hot.”

Salim couldn’t do much more than moan, all of his strength concentrated in keeping himself upright. Suddenly Jason withdrew his fingers and the artificial cherry scent filled the air again as Jason prepared his dick. He threw the empty bottle on top of the vending machine and Salim huffed again, but said nothing.

And then Jason was inside him, filling him, and Salim spread his legs further apart, arching his back to shamelessly present himself to his lover. He could hear Jason cursing as he rolled his hips backwards, forcing the American into him. Jason didn’t give him any time to adjust, pulling out and holding his hips firmly in place. 

“Ready babe?” Jason asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer, slamming his cock deep into Salim’s ass, withdrawing to the tip, and repeating. Salim felt the air knocked out of his lungs, and he gasped and moaned at the hot friction, desperate to fuck back onto Jason but unable to move. Jason was relentless; Salim heard him repeat ‘fuck’ and ’Salim’ like a mantra, thrusting into his lover as though he was determined to shake every can out of the damned machine. Salim lifted his head and spread his arms, bracing himself against the edges of the machine and bending forwarded, which pushed Jason back. Bent double, with his legs spread, Salim felt exposed and raw, but excited and so very, very turned on. Jason gasped out a laugh behind him, kneading the soft flesh of his sides and palming his ass as he easily fed Salim his cock again, setting an almost brutal pace that had Salim’s legs shaking. His vision was going hazy and the cars seemed so far away as Jason took him, moaning obscenely. Salim could feel his climax cresting; his breath came harder and faster as Jason buried his rock hard cock inside Salim’s welcoming ass. When Jason’s hips began to stutter, and his panting turned into a keening whine, Salim stood and Jason was forced out of him. Salim turned and Jason pushed him roughly against the machine, kissing him open mouthed, pushing his shirt up and grabbing his neglected cock. Salim was stronger though, and fought him off, wrapping his hand around both of their dicks and pumping furiously. Jason slammed him into the vending machine again, then wrapped his arms around Salim’s head, tugging on his hair and burying his face into the Iraqi’s neck. He sucked and bit at the exposed skin as Salim jerked them both off. Jason came first, grunting and spilling his hot seed onto Salim’s hand, which tipped Salim over the edge. They stood there panting and laughing for long moments, fighting the high and the urge to lay down.

Once they had used Salim’s handkerchief to clean up as best they could (Jason threw that onto the vending machine as well), and reassembled their outfits into something presentable enough to get them home, Jason peeked out from their hiding spot to check the cost was still clear and shouted in surprise. Salim saw him lean down and pick up a green can. 

“It fuckin’ worked,” he laughed, holding up his prize, “I don’t have to clean the kitchen.”

Salim’s euphoria suddenly disappeared.

“You’re still finger fuckin’ me though,” Jason said, cracking the can open and walking back to the street, “after you clean the kitchen.”

[luvvewan]

EEEE can you do 11?? Obi wan and qui gon JA time period? :D

Thank you very much for the prompt, @general-flame ! ❤️ I realized after writing this blurb that you specified Jedi Apprentice and this actually follows new canon/Master and Apprentice. I hope you enjoy it anyway but feel free to send send another JA prompt and I’ll try to be more observant! 😬

11. “I need you to breathe for me. Slowly – in and out.”

—

(then)

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bleary afternoon sky above him, sullen and swollen with dark clouds. He immediately vomited, and his confused head thought it must be rain water, this tepid liquid rushing up from his guts.

He tried to take a deep breath, but made a clumsy gulping sound instead. Warm pressure settled on the nape of his neck, and he felt the Force, suffused with healing, yet strained.

Panicked.

He tried to wrench away from the touch. His fingers dug into the grainy earth. He tasted the grain—no, sand—in the back of his throat. It was going to fill his lungs, but he wretched again. He could not stop, overtaken by great, shuddering heaves, the Force more shadowed than the sky, dark with fear.

I should not be afraid to die.

I am Jedi.

Hands beat on his back, while another clutched his arm, keeping him upright, although he was very tired and his vision had dissolved along the edges. A vice squeezed his lungs, the hand squeezed his arm. Voices drifted down from the clouds.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Steady now. Breathe, kid.”

Two voices; he didn’t recognize the second. He tried to obey it anyway, letting the order override his body’s twitchy, mindless reactions. Obi-Wan spit out wet sand, but didn’t vomit, which allowed a thin stream of air through. Then more. The sharp pinch in his chest eased. He wanted to suck in the clean, sweet air, glut himself on it. He sputtered instead, and the hand moved along his spine, wide palm stroking up and down.

“Easy,” A different voice, lower, closer. “Focus on calming your heart.”

Master. He was suddenly shaking, even though it was the opposite of what Qui-Gon wanted, and there was a skittering flurry in the Force, and he realized his heart was pounding as if it wanted to burst out of him. He was going to puke, ohhh—-

“Qui-Gon, he’s—“

“I know.”

Despite the cacophony in his ears, Obi-Wan could hear the disappointment there. He blinked up, forcing his eyes to center on the vague face-shape hovering above him. Water dripped onto him, this time from the ends of Qui-Gon’s long hair. He was looking at Obi-Wan.

Blue eyes striated with grey. Like the sea.

Obi-Wan coughed and shivered. “What,” he started to say, but was unconscious before he could finish the question.

What do you know?

—-

(now)

“N-N…”

“I need you to breathe for me.”

Obi-Wan choked and sputtered.

“Slowly-in and out,” Qui-Gon braced his Padawan’s shoulders in an attempt to ground him. Though instinctively he wanted to draw the trembling young man closer, Qui-Gon remained at the edge of the sofa, giving Obi-Wan space. In the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to remember the healer’s suggestions, but he was getting better at it.

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon had already been provided several opportunities to practice.

The Force energy surrounding Obi-Wan pulsed with rapid, unfiltered emotion—confusion, panic, fear. Qui-Gon felt the echoes of terror, as clearly as he could still hear the desperate gasps from that day, weeks ago. When the attacks came, Obi-Wan sounded like he was struggling for air.

Drowning.

“Do you want the lights on?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were screwed shut; after a few seconds he nodded.

Qui-Gon waved on a glow lamp. The common area of his quarters looked aggressively normal, unaffected, their tea cups from earlier in the evening still sitting on the end table. It was only the blanket, thrown onto the floor, that spoke of any unease.

He picked it up, shook it out and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “That’s it. You’re doing better. In and out.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon. His chest was still fluttering spastically, but as the minutes passed, he took more and more control, until at last the wild-bright panic faded. Obi-Wan sagged against the sofa.

“Well done.” He held Obi-Wan’s gaze, something that had been hard to do, as of late. He wondered when he would be able to look in those gray eyes again without remembering how they had widened with terror, silently pleading for help. Qui-Gon had failed his Padawan that day.

And now Obi-Wan was staying with him, rather than in the apprentice dorms. Obi-Wan had insisted it was unnecessary, embarrassed by Qui-Gon’s offer. But he was not sleeping, and Qui-Gon could not sleep either, imagining his Padawan in the throes of these ruthless attacks, alone.

He had made enough mistakes with this young man. He would do what he could to fix it.

Obi-Wan was glancing around the room, as if discreetly scanning for danger.

Qui-Gon understood that it was a side effect of the anxiety and trauma. As the soul healer explained it, Obi-Wan’s close call triggered primitive responses in his brain. His body currently perceived threats even in safe places, like his Master’s rooms in the Temple.

Or perhaps he is right to sense danger here, a niggling voice in the back of his head pointed out. After all, you did not protect him. Far from it.

He gingerly squeezed Obi-Wan’s knee. “I’ll get you some water.”

Obi-Wan blinked. In the weak amber light, he looked younger than his twenty years. “Alright. Thanks.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono when he walked into the small kitchen. Close to daybreak. So it would be another early morning. He returned with a glass of cool water.

Obi-Wan took it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and sipped. His hair was flattened on one side of his head, the other half standing in riotous spikes. Qui-Gon had begun to believe the regulation Padawan cut in human males existed to endear them to their teachers. He smiled and smoothed the sweaty hair with his palm.

He noticed Obi-Wan’s mouth tense and his eyes dropped to the glass in his hands.

“You have no reason to be ashamed, young one.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “No, of course not. All senior apprentices lose their minds and have to sleep on their Master’s couch.”

It was meant partially in jest, but the words twisted Qui-Gon’s heart nonetheless. He set the glass on the table and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms over his sleep robe. “You have not lost your mind. Healer Che said this is not uncommon after a traumatic event.”

“Nor is it common.” Obi-Wan started to fiddle with his braid, then caught himself. “I don’t see how it’s especially traumatic,” he confessed, looking at Qui-Gon with bloodshot eyes. “I just need to learn how to swim.”

—

They were Temple-bound while Obi-Wan recovered. Unlike a physical injury, the parameters for mental recovery were ill-defined. Obi-Wan went to appointments with a soul healer; he rarely spoke of what was discussed in the sessions. Qui-Gon got the impression that his Padawan firmly wanted to move on, and was both irritated and discouraged by the attacks.

Qui-Gon wanted to move on too, of course. He and Obi-Wan had only just begun to mend their relationship after the fateful mission to Pijal, and Qui-Gon’s near-acceptance of the Council seat.

He sat on a bench in a less-traveled area of the Gardens. His eyes burned from interrupted sleep. The episodes were becoming much more frequent, nearly every night. He worried for Obi-Wan, who was currently sitting in a lecture, undoubtedly exhausted.

If he was a more experienced Master, would this all be easier? Over and over, he grappled with the idea that Obi-Wan needed someone like Mace, or even Yoda. The boy was so different from him. He never knew if he was providing Obi-Wan with the tools he needed to thrive, as a Jedi or as a person. Pijal had proved to Qui-Gon he could not give Obi-Wan up, nor were their problems insurmountable. He had returned to Coruscant with hope, and turned the Council’s offer down.

And then, on their very next mission following Pijal, Obi-Wan almost drowned.

Since then, Qui-Gon’s thoughts dwelled on a conversation he’d had with Obi-Wan, back when he still intended to join the Council.

“I’ve never taught you to swim, have I, Obi-Wan?”

“No, Master. But I know how—well, a little bit.”

“We’ll practice. Every Jedi should be able to swim like a Mon Calamari.” *

He could forgive some mistakes he had made as Obi-Wan’s mentor. Obi-Wan was his first Padawan, assigned to him by Master Yoda, and there were bound to be stumbling blocks. In this case, Qui-Gon had no excuse. For years, it had not occurred to him to ask Obi-Wan if he knew how to swim.

He had assumed, as with so much else in this relationship—assumed somewhere along the way, Obi-Wan had learned how to swim. He should have taken Obi-Wan to the Temple pools as soon as they returned from Pijal, as he had pledged to do.

Their lives were busy. He had forgotten.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the vibrant greenery. He remembered swimming with Master Dooku. Qui-Gon could swim, and swim well, before his first proper mission as a Padawan. Why had he let so many things slip with Obi-Wan? Admittedly, in the beginning, Qui-Gon had felt shades of resentment towards the boy, foisted upon him when he had not asked for such a sudden and complete change. Yet he had grown to care deeply for Obi-Wan, despite their differences. He thought he had done his best.

Pijal had opened his eyes. But not enough, or else he would have corrected the vital lapse in Obi-Wan’s skills as soon as he was made aware.

“We’ll practice.”

There were nightmares of his own, in which he was too late, and Obi-Wan did not…he refused to give the image life or dimension now, in the Gardens, amid other Jedi and the optimistic light of day. Yoda would tell him not to dwell on what-ifs. Certainly Qui-Gon had been reminded recently enough that dreams were easily misinterpreted.

He would bring up the swimming lesson with Obi-Wan, he decided. It was a start.

—

*dialogue excerpts taken from the novel Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader, a sprinkling of Erasermic and eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 12/16 (all chapters)

Stain’s capture radically changed the atmosphere in the school, for students and adults alike. Luckily, your suspicions about the case proved correct and no one was expelled, though that wasn’t to say Midoriya, Todoroki and Iida got away scot free.

Iida was, for obvious reasons, the most apologetic of the three. He bowed his head so many times and so passionately that you worried he would give himself a concussion. He apologised for being untruthful and pushing away the help offered to him, seeming to expect disappointment and anger from you or Shouta. If anything, the lack of it hit him harder.

Iida, Midoriya and Todoroki weren’t the only ones affected by the incident. Students you had never seen before dropped into your office, some terrified by the footage they had seen and others conflicted.

A particular video began to circulate the web after the incident, one that detailed Stain’s background and ideology. It didn’t seem to matter how many times it was taken down or blocked, for within minutes it would appear elsewhere. It went without saying that almost every student in UA saw it eventually, as well as the vast majority of the faculty staff.

Everyone had an opinion and something to say, yourself included. You chatted about it at the izakaya as well as the staff lounge and then again during the recording of Support Mic.

Even after public interest died down, when Stain’s name no longer appeared on the news and fewer people came to your office to talk through their anxieties, the atmosphere at UA remained tense. Summer vacation loomed over the horizon and with it the end of term examinations.

As was the case with most people, you were especially curious of 1-A. They had experienced so much in such a short period of time that it was difficult not to be even slightly protective of them. With Nezu’s approval, you attended their physical exams, watching wide eyed at each match.

Your intrigue didn’t only stretch to the students. This was your first chance to truly see your colleagues at work and you could barely hide your excitement, chewing at your thumbnail and twirling the pen in your hand, wincing whenever anyone hit concrete or landed on their face. Recovery Girl seemed to find your fascination amusing, though wasn't annoyed, instead chuckling under her breath whenever you gasped or jumped in your seat.

You watched in awe as Shouta jumped from rooftop to rooftop as easily as he climbed stairs; as Ectoplasm duplicated himself over and over; as Cementoss completely transformed the area around him. You felt incredibly small, the reality of having pro heroes for coworkers never quite so clear as then.

That wasn’t the only realisation you had.

You watched as Shouta moved, remembering how it had felt when he fucked you against a bathroom sink. When Hizashi stepped out to activate his quirk, you couldn’t tear your eyes from his throat, remembering how he had moaned into your mouth when he came. Even now, you could still feel Shouta’s hands against your hips; the vibrations of Hizashi’s mouth against yours.

You were ruined now in terms of standards. You’d slept with heroes and nothing else would satisfy you.

Hizashi had stayed true to his word, saying nothing of what had happened between you the night of the Hosu incident. He flirted as he always did, though it never went any further from there. In many respects, you were grateful for it. Not only would it be far, far more suspicious to other people if he suddenly stopped joking around about how cute you were, but the impact of the reset would almost certainly hit harder. On a surface level nothing had changed between you at all.

You winced when he finally activated his quirk and bellowed across the forest. You didn't have any sound, but could see the trees buckling and shedding their leaves from the impact.

You watched as Jirou and Kouda sheltered in the trees, Jirou’s ears bleeding and Kouda trembling in fear, feeling incredibly conflicted. You wanted them to do their best and show how resourceful they could be, but you didn’t want Hizashi to go too hard on them either.

Several students had gathered in Recovery Girl’s makeshift office and watched each new development with just as much interest as you. Each had opinions on potential strategies, though Kouda’s eventual plan of action took everyone by surprise.

He placed his hands flat on the ground and began to speak, which you initially believed to be him panicking as before. However, moments later, the ground at Hizashi’s feet grew deformed and cracked, a seemingly endless number of bugs flooding out from between the gaps.

You clapped a hand over your mouth, skin prickling at the idea alone. Recovery Girl had little sympathy, tutting and shaking her head as if he had tripped over his own feet.

“Honestly,” she said as her desk phone began to ring. “A teacher of this school…”

“I’ll go and check in on him,” you said, getting to your feet and dusting nonexistent crumbs from your lap.

~~~~

Much like the students, the teachers had a makeshift waiting room outside of the examination areas. You jumped back the moment you opened the door, a sea of beetles, centipedes and spiders scurrying through the gap and towards freedom.

It took you all of two seconds to find Hizashi. All you had to do was follow the layers of discarded clothing. You picked up his jacket and gloves from the middle of the room and his shirt and boots from a little further in, wincing at the layers of bugs still contained within. You tipped his boots upside down at the outside door, giving them a few forceful taps that released several beetles. You gave his jacket and gloves a good shake, turning both inside out to double check for any intruders.

Then, and only then, did you return to the waiting room, draping his jacket and gloves across one of the chairs and setting his boots underneath.

The adjacent room was an infirmary of sorts, with several beds and a privacy curtain and you squirmed as even more bugs scuttled through the open door.

Hizashi had dumped the rest of his clothes in the middle of the room and disappeared behind the curtain, running a tap and whimpering every few seconds.

“H-Hizashi?”

He switched off the water at the sound of your voice and mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand.

“Are you okay?”

You stepped closer to the shield, dodging a line of ants.

“My b-”

“Hizashi?”

He poked his head through the shield, white as a sheet and hair soaking wet, though still sticking up in places.

“Boxers,” he said, so quietly that you could barely hear him. ”They’re in my boxers...”

“O-oh,” you said, blushing with both second hand embarrassment and discomfort. You squeezed your thighs together before you could stop. “I’ll try and find you some clothes, just wait a moment…”

You glanced around the room, leaning over to rummage through every cupboard and set of drawers. In the end, all you could find that was likely to fit him was a set of sweatpants and swimming trunks, as well as an oversized UA branded hoodie.

“Here you go,” you said, slipping them over the top of the screen. “Try these on.”

You were leaning over to salvage the remainder of Mic’s clothes when Shouta walked through the door, immediately rolling his eyes when he realised what you were up to. You glanced up at him, t-shirt in hand, scanning his body without meaning to. Now that you’d seen him swinging from rooftops, goggles only emphasising the sharpness of his jawline, it was difficult to think of anything else.

You didn’t notice that he stared back, taking in the way you had tucked a few loose strands of hair behind your ear; the way your blouse loosened around your neck as you bent over and teased a glimpse of your collarbones.

“I…” You said, realising you were staring at him. “I…”

“You came to observe us, then?”

“Yes,” you said, grabbing Hizashi’s shirt and folding it over your arm. “I uh… you were great. Oh! The students too! You were all great!”

You told yourself Shouta had encouraged you to pursue Hizashi. He had taken a step back and you should respect it.

Even so, you still couldn’t stop feeling flustered when you saw him, thinking of the kisses you had almost shared.

In retrospect, you wished you had gone after him while emotions still ran high. You wished you had asked him why he was pushing you away. What was it that had changed between you? Had you been misinterpreting his feelings all of this time?

No.

You remembered how sad he had looked. You definitely weren’t imagining that.

An awkward silence had broken out between you and you searched your brain for something -anything- to say. Shouta seemed to have had the same idea, for he reached out to you. You wondered if he was going to pull you into an embrace, but instead he scooped up a spider from the shirt you were holding, allowing it to crawl across his palm.

“Sho,” Hizashi called, “are you there?”

Shouta sighed at that and stepped towards the shield.

“Who else would be here sounding just like me?”

“So mean!”

“Anyway,” said Shouta, shooting you a knowing look, “I’ve got a present for you.”

“A present? For me! Really?”

Hizashi sounded genuinely excited, which only made your moment of realisation even worse.

Surely he wouldn’t?

Surely not.

Shouta pulled the curtain back, though, and activated his quirk. You didn’t see what happened next, but Hizashi’s screams were enough for you to make an educated guess.

“What are you doing?! Get that thing away from me!”

“It’s irrational for you to be scared. Look, it’s far more afraid of you.”

Even without the use of his quirk, Hizashi’s screams were loud. You weren’t entirely sure what Shouta did next, only that a half naked Hizashi threw himself through the curtain to escape. He was in too much of a panic to pay attention to his surroundings and crashed into the first thing to block his path, which unfortunately happened to be you. The pair of you collapsed to the floor, you landing flat on your back against the tiles, Hizashi face first on top of you, one hand either side of your head.

“O-w,” you muttered, having hit your elbow and the back of your head on the way down.

Hizashi winced, looking down to see what it was that had tripped him and blushing a furious shade of scarlet when he saw it was you.

Naturally, that was the precise moment Nemuri walked inside, mopping her brow on her sleeve.

“Well, well,” she said, closing the door behind her. “And they call me the R-Rated Hero.”

Only then did you realise the suggestiveness of your position, both you and Hizashi frantically untangling yourselves and getting back up onto your feet.

“H-h-h-how was the exam?”

“Yeah,” said Shouta, stepping out from behind the curtain, spider still in his hand. “What happened with Mineta and Sero?”

“Oh that,” said Nemuri, grinning and folding her arms. “I lost.”

At that, the room fell silent, all of you trying and failing to digest her words. All of you had crossed paths with Sero and Mineta at one point or another and, while Sero was certainly a capable hero, it was common knowledge that Mineta had a weakness for women.

In the end, Hizashi was the one to break the silence.

“You’re shitting us, right?”

“No joke,” said Nemuri, looking incredibly happy about it. “I lost.”

“Give me a play by play,” said Shouta, setting the spider down on a nearby shelf. “I want to know what happened.”

“You could have just watched, you know,” said Nemuri, before smirking and glancing at you and Hizashi. “Unless you found something more interesting.”

Your stomach churned at the implication, even though you knew for a fact that it had all been completely innocent.

“It wasn’t like that,” said Shouta. “So are you going to tell me or do I have to go and watch the tapes?”

At that, Nemuri sighed and described the exam, how Sero had passed out only a matter of minutes in, leaving Mineta to fend for himself. You barely paid attention, mind wandering.

Nemuri didn’t know you’d slept with both Shouta and Hizashi. She’d been making a joke and nothing more. Even so, you couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like if those experiences overlapped: Hizashi burying himself inside of you while Shouta pushed a vibrator against your clit; Shouta fucking you under a blacklight while Hizashi stole the moans from your lips.

You didn’t realise how obscene your thoughts had gotten nor how much you had stopped paying attention until Nemuri clapped a hand to your forehead.

“You okay, (Name)? You’re really warm.”

“I’m fine!” you squeaked, knowing you probably didn’t sound at all convincing. “Actually...I was just thinking...once exams are over, I want to treat everyone to dinner!”

You had taken Akira’s ring to the jewellery store a couple of days earlier, eyes still popping from your head at the number of digits. You spent most of the night wondering what on earth you would do with it. Your bills were cheap, you had a good salary. You didn’t need that sort of money.

In the end, you split the money in half, keeping some for yourself and donating the rest to a number of charities. You had already arranged to go to a cocktail bar with your girlfriends, but wanted to treat your work friends too. They had, after all, come to your rescue in a number of ways.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Hizashi, “we can just go out to dinner anyway!”

“I know, I know...it’s just,” you shrugged, “I sold the engagement ring and well...it only seems fair.”

Shouta glanced from you to Nemuri to Hizashi, scratching the back of his neck. He clearly had questions, but didn’t ask any of them.

“What about sushi? A new place opened up on Pink Street and I’ve been wanting to try it,” you said.

“Oooh, I’ve heard so much about that restaurant,” said Nemuri. “Their rolls melt in your mouth...”

“I haven’t been for sushi in so long,” sighed Hizashi.

“I guess that settles it,” you said, turning to Shouta. “How about you?”

“I’ll pass,” he said, “places like that are too fancy for me.”

“Aw, c’mon Eraser,” said Hizashi. “It’s the end of term, enjoy yourself.”

“They have fancy tuna,” you said. “Even if you don’t stay, you can take some home for Sushi.”

He paused to consider it, glancing from Nemuri to Hizashi and finally you, colour rising in his cheeks at your hopeful smile.

“Fine,” he said, “but I’m not staying long.”

~~~~

That night, for the first time since his recovery, Shouta stayed home instead of patrolling the streets. He had downloaded copies of the matches onto his laptop and made himself comfy on the couch to watch them, making mental notes of every move and decision.

He wanted to go over the strengths and weaknesses of his students ahead of the upcoming training camp and autumn term, though his mind wandered. He kept coming back to the moment Hizashi had fallen through the curtain and landed on you.

He had had suspicions that something had happened between the pair of you ever since the night of the Hosu incident. You had both arrived at the same time, which didn’t make a lot of sense given where you lived. You would catch different trains and arrive at different stations. Perhaps the most incriminating detail of all was the scent that lingered about you both; the same tangerine and orange blossom scent that he remembered from Hizashi’s visits during his recovery. Shouta’s own simple bath products had offended him on a personal level and he brought several bottles from his own collection on subsequent nights.

Shouta remembered turning his nose up at the perfumey scent and layers of bubbles, neither of which belonged in his otherwise simple home. That said, when Hizashi left one of the bottles behind, he didn’t give it back, often reaching for it and inhaling the sweet scent. It was the scent he caught on Hizashi whenever he got close enough, and he didn’t know what to think when he smelled it on both of you.

It wasn’t completely out of the realms of possibility that it was a coincidence, that both of you happened to have used the same product on the same night and bumped into one another outside of the school, but he knew it was unlikely. The simplest explanation was usually the right one, even if he didn’t necessarily want to accept it.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. He had told you to pursue Hizashi; he didn’t have the right to feel betrayed when you did. Even so, something had stirred within him when you and Hizashi arrived together, something he had managed to seal away until Hizashi fell through the curtain. He couldn’t stop thinking about it now; thinking about the pair of you in far less innocent circumstances.

His stomach churned whenever he thought about your naked bodies; about the pair of you sharing kisses and secrets. He hated it and he didn’t know why. Hizashi would be the perfect boyfriend and you the perfect wife. It made sense for the pair of you to get together. Hizashi was into marriage and holding hands in public; you had books on the meaning of flowers and pancake moulds shaped like bunnies. He didn’t belong in either scenario any more than he had belonged in the group hug you, Nemuri and Hizashi shared.

He groaned and scratched his hair, turning over onto his side and reloading the video he had been watching. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. It was giving him a headache.

He stared at the screen, watching as Kaminari and Mina sprinted through empty streets, Nezu not far behind. He made it only about five minutes before his eyelids began to droop. He was still getting used to the limits of his quirk and had a feeling he’d overused it in his match against Yaoyorozu and Todoroki.

Shouta stretched back, resting an arm on the arm of the couch and laying his head down on the crook of his elbow.

He’d rest his eyes for a moment and just listen.

He listened out for the racket of crumbling buildings, drifting to sleep before he could stop himself.

When he opened his eyes, he was in someone else’s bedroom, sunlight shining through the windows and bathing his skin in golden light. He was flat on his back and on top of the bedcovers, head resting on sweet smelling pillows.

He realised he was naked and that he wasn’t alone.

Giggles broke out from further down the bed and he looked down, peering through his spread legs and into two smiling faces. You and Hizashi were laid on your front and as naked as he was, laughing at the lurid blush that had broken out across his face.

“Go on...get on with it,” he said, eying his own hard cock.

You turned to Hizashi with a smile.

“Should we?”

“I don’t know,” said Hizashi, “he’s been such a grump lately.”

“All the more reason to cheer him up!”

“Oh, just as expected of you, (Name),” said Hizashi, kissing you on the lips, “so considerate!”

Shouta groaned, watching as he kissed you again with more than a hint of tongue. The wet sound your lips made whenever you broke contact was almost too much for him to bear. You stole glances at him as you ended the kiss, knowing the effect you were having on him.

He gasped as the pair of you ran your tongues over his cock, taking turns at the tip. It was overwhelming and he bucked his hips into your touches, not sure which detail to focus on first. Should he listen to the popping sounds whenever one of you sucked his tip? Should he sigh in pleasure at the gentle way the pair of you ran your hands over the inside of his thighs? Should he choke in desperation at the feel of your combined saliva dribbling down his cock?

This was too much.

Hizashi took hold of his dick and pumped it so quickly that he could do nothing else but grip the bedsheets and shake, watching as the pair of you kissed again. You leaned over to spit on the tip of his cock and Hizashi jerked him faster, the wet sound shaking him to his core.

“I think he’s close,” you said, watching as Shouta arched his back, gripping the bed with both hands. “Should we let him?”

“I’m not sure,” said Hizashi in a tone of mock severity. “I don’t think he’s ready yet.”

You both looked at him, taking in his half sitting position and rasping breaths.

“Fffuck,” he hissed, holding himself taught, “both of you.”

You both laughed at that and Hizashi let go of his dick, making way for you to take it into your mouth, bobbing your head as you took more and more of it in. Hizashi stroked his fingers through your hair and cooed at how cute you were, Shouta squeezing his eyes shut and gasping for air. He was close to the point of no return and the vibrations against his dick as you moaned didn’t help.

He couldn’t breathe; his breaths were short and sharp, his heart raced and his dick almost unbearably tight. You pulled away just in time for him to whine and flop back against the bed, cumming all over his--

He woke up, bleary eyed and sweaty, taking in the dark room and abandoned laptop, the hard couch under him.

“Shit,” he said, reaching for the waistband of his boxers and grimacing at the knowledge that he hadn’t dreamt the part where he came everywhere.

He got to his feet and waddled to the bathroom, cursing both at the mess and twitching of his cock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a wet dream. Had it been high school? Whatever the case, he felt dirty.

He kicked off his boxers and climbed into the bathtub, trying and failing to distract himself from the waves of pleasure still rushing through his body.

He turned on the cold tap, both to bring himself back to earth and wash away the evidence. He rarely remembered his dreams, but this one wouldn’t leave him.

“Shit,” he said, rubbing his temples and willing away the mental image of you and Hizashi trailing your tongues over his dick. “Shiiiiiit.”

He sank down into the bath and sucked in a deep breath as the cold water touched his skin. He closed his eyes, orgasm fading and lucidity setting in. For the first time in weeks, he felt clear headed.

He scowled, no longer focusing on Hizashi falling on top of you, but the part that came soon after and bothered him just as much.

Engagement ring?

~~~~

“I don’t believe you.”

Nemuri sat back to sip her beer, looking across the crowded restaurant.

“I’m telling you,” said Hizashi, “she’s the one!”

With the end of term came the promised sushi dinner; you, Nemuri, Hizashi and a reluctant Shouta all at one table.

Only after you and Shouta got up for another round of drinks did Hizashi drop the bombshell he had been sitting on for weeks: that you were the woman from Ego . To say Nemuri was skeptical was an understatement.

“(Name)? That (Name)?”

She pointed across the room and towards the bar, where you and Shouta were ordering drinks.

“She had the dress , Nemuri!”

Nemuri held her beer to her chest, watching as you ordered your drink and bowed several times to the bartender.

“Let’s assume I believe you,” she said, tilting the bottle towards him. “What were you doing in her bedroom in the first place?”

Hizashi hadn’t mentioned the fact that you’d slept together and he broke out in goosebumps at getting even remotely close to caught.

“I-I walked her home and my hair tie broke. Nothing happened!”

It wasn’t a lie. That really was why he’d been in your room. Nemuri had known him for long enough, though, to pick up when he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?”

“I,” Hizashi realised he’d raised his voice and leaned across the table to speak in hushed tones. “No, why would you think that?”

“You’re a terrible liar. Besides, she told me you did.”

“She what ?”

Hizashi clapped both hands over his mouth, not meaning to shriek as loud as he did. Nemuri flinched at the sudden loud noise, rubbing a finger over her ear.

“She...she really told you?”

He remembered his own words that night, his promise not to say anything unless you did. He hadn’t expected you to say anything, much less so quickly, and for a second he wondered if he had you all wrong, only to notice Nemuri’s shit eating grin.

“She didn’t tell me anything,” she said, taking a satisfied sip of beer. “You just now, though? You told me everything .”

“Nemuri, promise me you won’t say anything about this! I didn’t mean to, I just...it just happened.”

“What, did you trip and land dick first?”

“No!” Hizashi buried his face in his hands. “No, it wasn’t like that. I only meant to cheer her up a little, but there she was...all beautiful and sad and sweet and lonely...like a love song.”

Nemuri didn’t say a word and he lifted his head, watching the way she stroked her finger through the condensation on her beer bottle.

“Hizashi,” she said, “I don’t know how we got here, but somehow you’re the Shinohara.”

Hizashi buried his face in his hands again, remembering Shinohara’s lurid blushes and trembling hands.

“I don’t want to be the Shinohara,” he wailed into his hands. “I don’t want any of this!”

Nemuri reached out to pat his head, beer forgotten and all of the mirth gone from her face. She remembered a different time and a different trio: a different story of unrequited love.

She wondered what Shirakumo would have said about all of this.

Knowing him, he’d find a way to fall in love with you as well.

“Listen,” she said, patting his head, “let’s assume (Name) really is the girl from Ego .”

“But she-”

“Let’s assume she is.”

“But she is the-eeek!”

Nemuri had picked up her beer and rested it on his head, sending a surge of cold through his scalp.

“Listen to me,” she said. “You don’t have to feel guilty about pursuing either of them.”

Hizashi didn’t miss her wording. They could be his. He didn’t need to feel guilty about pursuing either of them. He had never mentioned having any kind of feelings for Shouta to her. He’d never mentioned them to anyone.

“How long have you known?”

Had he really been that obvious?

“I asked you a while ago if you remembered Shinohara,” said Nemuri.

“You did...and I do!”

“No,” she sighed. “No, you don’t.”

She lifted the bottle from his head to take a sip, remembering the way she, Hizashi and Shirakumo had crouched against the wall in the neighbouring classroom to eavesdrop; the way Shirakumo had reached into her lap without looking to help himself to the chips she’d brought. She remembered the tension in everyone’s bodies as Aizawa began to speak.

Neither Hizashi nor Shirakumo had ever looked so relieved as the moment he turned her down.

“Hizashi,” she said. “Do you want to date one of them, or do you want them to date each other? Which one is it?”

He stayed silent, knowing that the true answer was neither of those things. He wanted both of them in every way it was possible to want anyone. He wanted to be greedy, wanted to be selfish, wanted to forget how it felt to be lonely.

“I want to do the right thing.”

Nemuri sighed and scratched her chin.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It...I…” Hizashi rested his head on the table. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I just want them to be happy.”

“In that case, I know what we have to do next,” she said. “1-A are going to summer camp next week and I was supposed to be chaperoning the girls. I could...hypothetically...be unable to go.”

Hizashi looked up at her and nodded, as visibly sad as a wilting sunflower.

“I guess that’s the plan, then,” she said. “Now don’t forget to smile!”

He didn’t get the chance to ask why, for you and Shouta returned with drinks at that very moment and the transformation was instantaneous.

“Heyyyy, what took you guys so long,” he cried out, practically bouncing back up with an enormous grin plastered across his face, “we thought you got lost!”

“Not quite,” you said, with a giggle. “I couldn’t decide what drink to get.”

“Ahhh, indecision,” said Nemuri, with a knowing smile. “Sounds familiar.”

You sat back down at the table, Shouta not far behind.

“So,” you said, “what were you guys talking about?”

~~~~~

FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

From the moment you stepped inside of the sushi bar, Shouta had made it quite clear he didn’t intend to stay. Even so, you had been there for well over an hour and, while he had poked and prodded at his food and stayed quiet, he hadn’t made any attempt to leave. He had even offered to help you carry the next round of drinks and you were finding it difficult to hide your joy.

He didn’t say much even then, but you didn’t mind it, losing yourself in the numerous options on the cocktail menu.

When he did speak, it took you by surprise.

“Back then. What did you mean?”

You recalled the last conversation you had had at the table, about what you planned to get up to now that your schedule was all but clear. You had mentioned going to Yamanashi to pick peaches and wondered what part of that might have confused him.

“The...the fruit farm?”

“No,” he sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you like peaches?”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” you said, wondering what it was he meant to ask you, not noticing the way his eyeline skirted across your bare ring finger.

The pair of you fell into silence again, watching as the bartender put together your drinks.

“I do,” said Shouta at last.

“Hmm?”

“Peaches. I like them.”

“Oh! In that case I’ll bring back a souvenir!”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to!”

Shouta sighed and rubbed his temples and you wondered if you’d said the wrong thing.

You wondered what it was he had meant to ask you and clasped your hands together.

“Shouta.”

“Yes?”

You took a deep breath, the question dying on your lips.

“What about cherries?”

~~~~~

A/N: RIP EVERYONE READING THIS FOR THE FIRST TIME. THE NEXT CHAPTER IS A DOOZY

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Raise the Stakes, Part 8

I swear, I will wind this one up in the not-too-distant future but I keep kind of thinking of different things to do with it. Bad writer, bad. Finish your work!

You can find the previous bits of the story:

Place Your Bets

Part one two three four five six seven

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC (referenced Jay White x OFC)

Word count: 3,824

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, cursing

You feel like an idiot for actually believing that he was going to talk to you the next day, or that he was going to do anything other than ignore you the way he has since your arrival. If anything, he’s ignoring you harder than ever, or at least taking greater pains to be anywhere around you. If you see him, he’s always moving and with others. The wall between you is so thick you start gaslighting yourself, wondering if you imagined the tryst in your car.

The whole company is buzzing. It’s the last few days before the big Slammiversary show, the peak of their year. The excitement for the show and for finally having a small audience is mingled with the knowledge that every year, there are some surprises. THe bigwigs play their cards close to their chests, which means that the talent and behind the scenes people, yourself very much included, don’t know who could pop out at any moment. New Japan has been frustratingly tight-lipped. It’s supposed to be your job to bridge the gaps between New Japan and Impact but no one will tell you who might be trying to cross those bridges.

Is Nagata coming back? You’ll find out.

Another appearance by Phantasmo? Wait and see.

Tama and Tanga are mouthing off at the Good Brothers all the time on social media. Are they showing up?

It’s like shouting at a wall.

Finlay and Robinson are there, they tell you. Take care of them.

It’s almost more frustrating to hear that because, of course, you’d like to do that but one of them is very determined not to let that happen.

By Thursday afternoon, you’ve done everything you can.

“Take a day off,” Scott Damore, the man tasked with keeping this little beehive running tells you. “Go home and relax. You’ll want to be rested for Saturday.”

You want to tell him there’s no need for you to leave now but your aching back, neck, and head disagree.

“What time do you need me here Saturday?”

“Morning?” He looks surprised. “Just come in an hour or so before the show.”

“But what do you need me to do?”

“Sit in the audience, cheer at the right points, look excited if the camera passes you.”

“That’s it?”

“There’s nothing that needs to be liaised in the middle of a show. Grab a seat, have some fun. Be a fan for a few hours.”

You laugh a little because you can’t remember the last time you were able to just be a fan.

“You do like wrestling, don’t you?”

“I do,” you chuckle. “I just don’t really have the opportunity to indulge that very often.”

“So go home, have a nice dinner and a glass of wine. Do whatever it takes to get rid of that headache that I can see right through your skull. Spend the day in your pajamas playing videogames with teenagers online.”

You rise slowly, thanking him as you move to go.

“Hey,” he calls softly, “you’re doing a great job. Don’t think they’re not going to hear about it in Tokyo.”

It’s such a sweet note to leave on that you’re most of the way home, or to the temporary rental that’s passing for home right now, before you think about the fact that you haven’t laid eyes on David all day. He’s been around, because if he hadn’t been, you’re the one who would have had to field questions about it. But he’s been invisible to you.

You end up taking Scott’s suggestions very much to heart. You order dinner from the Chinese place you’ve become addicted to, watch early episodes of The Walking Dead, and have a couple of drinks until you can feel a warm blanket of sleepiness wrapping itself around you.

And that’s when your doorbell rings.

You grab your phone, although there’s a large part of you that wants to ignore it because it’s a little unnervingly late to be getting callers. But you pick it up just on that off chance, because there’s that sliver of hope that it’s…

“It’s David.” He sounds tired and grumpy but you don’t even care because he’s there, at your door and it makes your heart race. You buzz him in and then just stand in front of your apartment door like a complete idiot until you hear him knock.

As soon as you open the door, though, your heart sinks.

“Seriously?” he snaps, holding your panties up for anyone to see.

“How long does it take you to go through your damn pockets,” you hiss, trying to hide how close you are to crying.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You want me to get a restraining order?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I know it was stupid, I just thought maybe if I left you a little reminder that… I don’t know. I thought that if I could get you back once…”

“You did not get me back. I’ve been lonely and I had a weak moment. And even then I couldn’t bring myself to fuck you.”

“Fine. I misinterpreted and thought it was me you wanted. Happy to have given you a show and a nice warm surface to rub one out.”

He throws your panties on the floor without another word. Now you have a problem. You know perfectly well that the second you let him out of your sight, he’s going to disappear. But the door to your apartment is going to lock automatically if it closes unless you step back inside and adjust it. So if you want to avoid giving him the chance to run away, you have to find a way to reach your discarded panties without allowing the door to close behind you.

Awkwardly, you bend forward but it’s immediately obvious that the offending garment is still out of reach. You try looking at him but he seems amused by your predicament. So you have to get right down on your knees and stretch, all while keeping your foot on the door, which weighs a ton. You’ve never felt less elegant in your life, nor more ridiculous than when you glare up at him. His expression is scornful and amused, but there’s a hint of something else you can see in his eyes. There you are, the bitch who he believes used him, the one who’s been begging for his attention, now on her knees in the most humiliating position.

You grab the scrap of fabric and scramble into a standing position before starting to speak. Unfortunately, you move enough that your foot slips from the door. You flinch as you hear the heavy thud.

“Fuck!” he yelps, loud enough you think the neighbors will show up.

It takes a second for you to register that he stuck his hand up to stop the door from closing and that the full weight of it crashed onto his fingers.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” It’s like every time he gets near you, something awful happens to him.

You push the door open and take his hand, trying to see if there’s any damage. He’s obviously irritated and tries to pull it back but it occurs to you that this could be serious.

“Come on, you have to at least let me put some ice on that.”

“No.”

“You have to. If it swells up, your hand could be screwed up for Saturday.”

He looks positively disgusted as it dawns on him that you’re right but he lets you lead him gently into your apartment.

You take out your ice tray and wrap a few cubes in the dish towel, pressing it softly against his hand. He swats you away and holds the makeshift ice pack himself. There’s a little grunted sound that might be a thank you.

“What even happened?”

“I thought the door was going to lock if it closed, I just tried to stop it. Don’t know why I did that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, guilt soaking your voice. “I would have been locked out.”

“Boohoo.”

“I’m really sorry about the panties, I just-”

“You’re just a disaster area and I need to stay the fuck away from you. I should have just thrown your little present in your face at the show.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.”

“I’m going to wait a few minutes until I’m sure my hand is ok. I would really appreciate it if you would just not speak for the rest of the time I’m here.”

The look on his face is so pained, so defeated, that you just nod and look at the floor. But you can’t hold it in. The insanity of the situation you’ve put yourself in and the feeling of having him close enough to touch while also being so remote burns through your insides like a wildfire and you just… break.

You let one loud yelp out and then it’s nothing but tears and loud sobbing. He immediately looks up at you and although your vision is blurred, his expression isn’t unsympathetic but that just makes it worse and you cry harder as you try to speak.

“You’re right, you should stay away from me… I thought that if I came here… I thought that if you knew I left him… that I left him for you…”

Your voice breaks up and you have to wipe your face just to keep yourself focused.

“I didn’t think about how bad I am… for you… for whatever… I just wanted…”

You break down in sobs again and you’re just about to go and hide on the balcony until he leaves when it happens. A miracle. He lays the towel on the counter and walks towards you. Even through your tears, you can see that his expression is much softer and that allows you to hold it together until he lays his hands on your shoulders and pulls you just a little closer.

At that point, once again, you lose it, the memory of how that touch felt back before you’d made a mess of everything. He presses you close to his chest, which amplifies the feeling and you feel like you’re going to pass out.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, cupping your face with his hand.

You open your eyes a little and he makes a face.

“You’re a mess.”

“I know,” you blurt. “I don’t know why I do the shit I do, it’s just-”

“No, I mean your face… there’s mascara stuff happening. It looks like an oil spill.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, holding back the tears as he uses his sleeve to wipe your face.

“Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have another pair with me. Besides, it helps with swelling, remember?”

You laugh a little again, trembling when he holds your face in his hands. For the first time in ages, he doesn’t have any of that vicious resentment in his eyes. It’s almost like the way he looked at you that day you had breakfast in the cafe, just sadder.

He looks at you that way for what feels like a long time, allowing you to regain control of yourself.

“You have really cute ears.”

“Wh- what?”

He smiles. “Your ears. They’re so cute, you have no idea. You always have your hair pulled back or up and I just remember noticing at one point. I’d smile about it all the time when you weren’t looking.”

“How do ears… be cute?” You can’t imagine what he’s talking about and yet the weirdness of the compliment makes it wonderful.

“Come here.” He takes you by the wrist and leads you into the bathroom. He positions you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and pulling you back against his chest. He takes your jaw in his hand and gently turns your head so that you can see the side of your face and your apparently adorable ear.

“You see,” he explains, running his thumb delicately along the outer ridge, “it’s kind of big and round up here, and then it tapers right off into this perfectly proportional little lobe and it looks like a half a heart. So they look like two halves of a heart. I can’t believe you’ve never noticed this before.”

He laughs softly and presses his face against yours, the scrape of his beard on your skin sending shivers through your whole body. His lips touch your cheek so fleetingly that you almost wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“Crying takes it out of you,” he sighs. “Let’s put you to bed.”

You feel numb as he leads you into the bedroom and helps you onto the bed before turning to close your blinds.

“Do you like being back in the States?” you ask, hoping you can stretch out his visit a little longer.

“Yeah, I do. I mean, it’s weird, all the back and forth lately. I swear I think I’m still jet lagged, or I’m just permanently fucked up.”

You smile as he sits down on the side of the bed. He smiles back but he makes no move to touch you or get closer.

“How do you like Impact?”

“I like not working Japanese hours.”

“Damn, I’ll bet. It’s one thing with the wrestlers but they don’t give you guys a break ever.”

You suddenly realize that you don’t want to talk about your work in Japan at all.

“I heard your brother is getting into wrestling too now?”

“Yup. I’m not sure Dad wanted either of us doing this for a living but I guess it really is in the blood.”

He takes your hands and places them on your stomach, very ladylike and demure, and pats them with his.

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go fight with the door to get out.”

“Tell me a bedtime story?” You try to make yourself sound as cute and harmless as possible and not like some crazed broad desperate to prolong the moment.

“No.”

You pout a little, gratified when you hear him chuckle.

“Ok, once upon a time there was an extremely silly little princess who could never figure out what she wanted. And no one ever seemed to be able to help her decide what that was, no matter how hard they tried. The end.”

You can’t help but give a wry laugh at that. “At least it’s nice to be a princess.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

You stare at him a long time, trying to figure out how to untie all the knots of what you’ve done. You can’t even imagine. You’re still trying to figure it out when he bends down and touches his lips, very softly, very quickly, to yours.

He pulls back but then almost immediately repeats the gesture. Then repeats it again. And again. He shifts so that he’s hovering over you, continuing to give you these little kisses.

“Stop that,” he rasps.

“Stop what? You’re the one kissing me.”

“Hm. I guess you’re right.” He leans in again. “Stop me.”

“I don’t want to.”

He doesn’t stop.

“Yeah, I don’t really want you to stop me either.”

And from that point, it gets more insistent, more romantic, and more passionate, until you feel him easing your pants down and running his hands over your thighs and ass. Determined that he is not just going to turn this into another resentful mutual masturbation session, you pull at his shirt. He wriggles free of it immediately easing you out of yours.

“How do you manage to run around without a bra on like that?” He squeezes and licks at your breasts with a little wink.

“I’m in my own apartment. I’m allowed to walk around however I want.”

“Yeah. But you don’t always wear one at work either, do you?”

He crashes his mouth into yours, tongue eagerly breaching your lips.

“Don’t think I don’t notice,” he pants.

He slides down and presses his face between your legs before you can think of a witty comeback, and once he does, you can’t think of anything. It’s so intense, so determined the way he goes at this, the way he picks up on every little twitch and tremor in your body, how he paces himself and you enough that it never feels like a rush to a goal. You don’t deserve this. You have no right to have him be this good to you.

You twist your hand in his hair, pulling it loose from the disheveled bun he’s always sporting. The parts of it that were trapped inside are still damp and you tug firmly to make him look up at you.

“Did you shower before you came over here?”

He smiles coyly and presses two fingers inside you, curling them like he’s beckoning you forward, making you moan and twist even as you’re trying to keep your mind focused.

“I shower pretty frequently,” he grins, “what’s it to you?”

He presses his lips close to your clit, allowing his tongue to flick ever so lightly against it.

“I don’t know,” you breathe, trying not to get overwhelmed by what he’s doing, “I like thinking you got yourself all cleaned up and handsome for me.”

You feel the soft vibrations of his laughter as he dives back into you, tongue pushing up inside you and making you scream before you grab at his hair again.

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” you whimper.

“Oh I love doing it.”

“I mean I don’t know why you’re doing this to me, when I’ve been so-”

You’re cut off as he goes right back at it, licking and pushing harder for a few seconds before he whispers, “If you had any idea how often I’ve jerked off fantasizing about eating you out, you’d probably stop speaking to me.”

With that he pins you down and continues in earnest, going at you with a zealot’s vigor so that you can’t question him or do anything but scream and beg him to continue what he’s doing until you fall apart, trembling and gasping.

You feel him wriggle out of his pants before he pulls you onto his lap, kissing you and playfully biting at your lips, his arms wound tight around your waist. You run your hand slowly down the length of his shaft, smiling at the little gasp this elicits.

“I want you inside me.”

“Yeah…” the hesitance in his voice terrifies you. “I was… I was hopeful enough to get all showered and freshened up before I came over but I wasn’t so confident that I actually brought any kind of protection with me.”

“I’m on birth control. And I get checked regularly, I swear, I’m-”

He kisses you hard, so passionately that you almost tumble over.

“You sure?” he whispers when he breaks the kiss.

“Very sure.”

He flips you onto your knees and pulls your hips back towards him. As he enters you, you realize that you’d convinced yourself you weren’t ever going to get this again. It’s like a reprieve from prison, feeling him fill you up.

He leans down enough that the feathery tips of his hair brush against the skin of your back, a stark contrast to the powerful hold he has on your hips. There’s an unbroken stream of praises coming from him but all you can think of to whimper in response is, “Thank you.”

“What?”

He slows his pace just a little.

“Thank you,” you repeat. “I didn’t think you’d want to touch me again. I don’t deserve you being this good to me.”

“Oh sweetheart no.” He pulls you up and holds you against his damp chest, one hand immediately falling to your clit while he continues to thrust inside you. “It’s ok, I’ve got you. I want to feel you come again, I want you to come on my cock.”

You let yourself relax into his touch and it takes very little time until he has you falling apart for him again, your muscles contracting sharply around him as he clearly fights to keep control.

He flips you onto your back like you’re nothing and smiles down at your dazed face.

“Let’s do this right.”

He leans down and pushes himself back inside you slowly crushing your body close to his and planting a fierce kiss on your lips. His movements are agonizingly slow, letting you feel every bit of what’s happening, picking up only when you hitch your hips against his. He keeps you wrapped up tight and close, faces practically touching as he finally lets himself come, eyes locked on yours. It’s a long, tender few minutes while he holds you, touching his lips to your forehead.

“I love you.” You just put it out there before the post-coital haze can fade, hoping it’ll stop him from closing himself off again.

“I love you too,” he whispers, nuzzling against the side of your head. “But you knew that already.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders a little.

“Stay with me. Sleep here, please.”

He looks thoughtful but it doesn’t take long for him to smile, stroking your cheek as he does.

“Yeah,” he beams, “I will.”

He rolls onto his side and pulls you close again.

“Did you seriously think I was going to be able to stay away from you forever?”

“Yes. I was pretty sure that you didn’t entirely want to, but I figured you’d fight it off.”

“How long have we known each other?”

“About six years.”

“You were working at the dojo and we all used to hang out together, right?”

“Yes.”

“How long had we been there before I asked you out to dinner?”

“I don’t know. A few months.”

“Closer to four. And I was already so hung up on you that I could barely think straight when you were around.”

You look at him in surprise. Yes, you’d known that he’d flirted a lot, but at that point all the boys at the dojo were trying to scheme their way into your pants. You’d always assumed that his real interest had developed much later.

“Yeah,” he says, noticing your expression, “I was that into you that early. And you know damn well it only got more intense from there.”

He wraps his arms around you and presses your head against his chest, kissing your hair. “And you thought that having finally gotten to take you to bed, having gotten you to say that you liked me, that I was going to be able to walk away?”

You squeeze him tight and nestle against him, your head immediately finding its way to the hollow of his shoulder. And as soon as it does, your whole body feels warm and safe and content. You want to keep talking to him but you can’t because this sort of bliss doesn't allow you to stay awake.

[sunshineandbnha]

It’s On Me, Just Don’t Go (Part 2 of It’s My Bad) - Bakugou x reader

Word count: 1,951 Warnings: angst in beginning, slight language from Bakugou A/n: Here’s part two. I hope it’s good, I did my best to make this semi realistic. If you don’t like it or think this isn’t what they deserve you can always pretend this doesn’t exist. And sorry if you temporarily saw this yesterday. I made an edit and it got posted a day early

“Chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us.” – Afterglow, Taylor Swift.

It had been a few days since the whole ordeal. You were still shaken up. How did that amazing relationship with Bakugou break so spectacularly?

Kirishima had knocked on your door shortly after he left to make sure you were alright. Apparently he hung around the apartment the whole time just in case. You assured him that you were, and he assured you that his arm was fine. According to him, he just needed to put some ice on it for a while and he would be all better. It was good to hear, but you only wished that what you had with Bakugou could heal as quickly.

He was really hurt after what you did. And you knew he was the kind of person who stayed a long way from anyone when he was emotionally hurt. Especially if it was that very same person who hurt him. Someone he trusted so much.

The worst thing was that it was all your fault. You were the one who misinterpreted the argument so that you thought he had broken up with you. You were the one who didn’t think about his side, getting upset at him for being so distant when it was all because he was stressing about his proposal to you. And you were the one who was stupid enough that you made the split second decision of kissing Kirishima… Your only excuse for that was that you weren’t thinking straight and that you were upset and needed someone, all of which sounded stupid when you said them out loud.

Being without him had to be one of the worst forms of torture in existence. Everything was so cold and lonely, like the walls had grown spikes and enclosed you in a cage. You were constantly hugging yourself. You couldn’t be bothered to turn the lights on. Your mind seemed to block out or blur old memories. When you did clearly think about a memory, your mind snagged on it and wouldn’t let go until you completely relived it. Then it would cause a spiral of thoughts and memories that would last an hour or more.

You tried to watch some TV, attempting to distract yourself. It didn’t work. You would only end up spacing out and missing the whole episode. Your mind seemed to be stuck in an endless loop of replaying the event that haunted you. With a frustrated sigh, you snatched up the remote to switch it off, then tossed it aside. You stood up and got a light jacket, wallet, and shopping list. Maybe going out for some fresh air would clear your thoughts. After all, you had to get some groceries anyway.

You quickly made your way outside. The crisp air was refreshing. Clouds filled the sky and evened out the somewhat dim lighting. There was no defined shadow or light, all in a gray area. It almost enhanced the colors or mood in a way you couldn’t describe. You kept your head down most of the way.

For whatever reason, you felt the sudden urge to look up. When you did, your heart jumped and hit itself on the non-existent ceiling. It was him… Bakugou, on the other side of the street. He was wearing everyday clothing. He was probably just at the gym. It could have just been your imagination, but his eyes seemed more red than usual, and distant like he didn’t get much sleep. He walked slowly with his hands in his pockets.

You believed it was called a hero instinct, when you moved without even thinking about it. That was what happened when you ran towards him. A part of you weren’t sure what you were doing, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Katsuki!” you called for him.

That may have not been the best decision. The second he looked up and saw it was you, he immediately turned into the alleyway nearby and pretended like he never heard you.

“Wait!” you called again, running faster.

He sped up, though never breaking into a run. You turned into the alley. You couldn’t lose him. You had to make it up to him here and now. You didn’t know the next time you’d work up the courage to talk to him.

“Please,” you added softly as you came to a stop.

“What do you want?” he huffed, his voice growing louder. However, he did stop.

It suddenly occurred to you that you had no idea what you were going to say to him. What words could ever make him feel better or accept your apology? You said the first thing that to came to your mind.

“I miss you.”

“So?” he looked back at you, the way you would look at someone if they wouldn’t shut up when you wanted to just leave and go home.

“I’m sorry. I know it was stupid.” You bit your lip and faced downward.

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT WAS!”

“I just don’t want to lose you. I miss you and I’m sorry,” you blurted out.

“WELL, SO DO I!!” He burst out. “But that isn’t going to change anything! And useless words like that aren’t going to do anything either.”

“Then what do I need to do to prove it to you?” Your hands trembled. You were desperate. You prayed for the right words that would save this. This was a chance you couldn’t let pass you.

At that moment your phone started ringing. It cut through the tension and bounced off the hard, colorless walls on either side of you. You really didn’t feel like answering it, but it seemed to distract either of you from saying anything.

He lifted an eyebrow. His anger appeared to subside for a minute. “You gonna answer that?”

With a huff, you pulled out your phone. You really didn’t want to deal with this. You examined the name on the screen.

He glanced at it and read who was calling you. "The agency. Looks like they might finally have something for you."

You stared at it, but quickly clicked the reject button.

"What are you doing, dummy!?!!" Bakugou screamed so loud you were sure everyone within a five mile radius heard. "That was your chance! You were waiting so long!"

"But that's not important to me right now. There will always be other heroes, and there will always be other chances, but there will never be another you." You stared at him, a sweet smile growing on your face. “You matter to me the most out of everything.”

Bakugou seemed to drop his guard. His body loosened as he took a step back in surprise. His eyes were wide and staring right at you. After the initial reaction faded away, he bit his lip and pink dusted his cheek as he turned his head away slightly. It was a look you hadn't quite seen since before you were dating.

You continued. "I can’t let this go. I can’t let you go. You were the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm so sorry I got so upset. I just felt bad because you weren't spending as much time with me. And instead of talking it out with you, I held it in until I just exploded at you. I had no idea you were working so hard for me or why you were so stressed. It wasn't until I looked at that bunch of flowers that I realized."

You looked down a second, tears streaming down your face, trying to gather your courage. "I know it might be too late, and I may be too dumb for it, but..." you trembled as you held out the box and opened it to him, "Will you marry me?"

You had kept that box with the ring in your pocket ever since you found it, even holding it close to you in your sleep. It had pained you to look or simply think about it, but you couldn't bring yourself to part with it.

His entire face turned red. He stumbled on his words for what felt like an eternity. "I-I'm supposed to be asking that, idiot! And that ring is meant for you."

You almost laughed, but decided to continue. "I know I made a stupid mistake. I'm sorry that I kissed Kirishima. I thought I lost you and I so upset and I wasn't thinking straight.  But after a lot of thinking, I know now, more than anything, that the thing I want the most is to stay with you. Yes, I did like him at some point, back in U.A. But that was how I ended up getting close to you. And in almost no time I came to love you. So much that I chose you. And I would choose you over and over again." You looked at the ground again to cope with the strangling fear of rejection. "I want you for worse or for better. I want to go wherever you go. You’re everything I ever wanted. So… please?”

“Tch Do you even need to ask?" Before you could process it, he put his hand on your back. He pulled you close and propelled his lips onto yours.

You froze a moment, your mind not able to comprehend that he actually forgave you. Slowly you were pulled out of it by the sweet sensation. In your experience, you found his kisses were either rough or sweet, and this one was sweet, but it was different somehow. His lips were tentative against yours, as if he were afraid you simply an illusion. You savored every moment of it, feeling his warmth against you. It chased away every ounce of loneliness and negativity out of you.

The pull out of it was slow, lips still brushing against the others. You still held each other close. It was like your arms were glue around his neck. It was a secure and comfortable position, one you wanted to stay in forever. You were praying with every atom of your being that this wasn’t just a dream. And if it was, you didn’t want to wake up.

You pulled him into a hug with your head on his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for being mine and staying.”

He rested his chin on your head. “You’re mine too, and I wouldn’t want it any other way… I’m glad you chose me.” His placed a gentle kiss on the top of you head.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m sorry if I made you think any different. I want this to make us stronger, not tear us apart. I’ll definitely make sure to be better from now on.”

“And you can be sure as hell that I’ll try my hardest to be the best husband ever.” His hold ever-so-slightly tightened.

“I believe you.”

You melted around him and pulled him even closer to you, if that were still possible. You both held onto each other, gripping onto the loose fabric in your shirts. It felt like heaven. A warm, comforting embrace you never wanted to leave.

"Thank you," Bakugou sniffed out, his hand on the back of your head, gently gripping onto your hair. He took in a deep breath of your scent. "I... never want to lose you... I'm sorry... that I got so busy that I forgot the point of paying for that ring and making all those plans for a perfect proposal." His voice was quiet. A rare, but welcomed, feat.

"And you never have to lose me," you whispered back.

His smile grew. A small chuckle escaped his lips. He pulled away slightly to look you in the eyes. “So, are you ready for your name to become Bakugou?”

[blackswandancing]

Snow Day Serenity

Summary: A rest day on a snowy planet gives you the opportunity to share a fun afternoon sledding with Din and Grogu as you try to figure out where your relationship with Din stands.

Pairing: Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff (like sheer, shameless, I’m grinning-like-an-idiot-writing-this fluff), pining

Rating: T 

Word count: 2.6K

After a few days of nearly non-stop travel, you and Din decide it’s time for a proper rest day. The Mandalorian finds a sparsely populated planet which should be far below the Empire’s radar. The name is unfamiliar and you’re not sure what to expect, but at this point, you’re too stir-crazy to care. 

“Brace yourself, we’re coming through atmo,” Din tells you from the pilot’s seat. You sit behind him, holding Grogu in your lap as the ship descends from the darkness of space into a clear blue sky. When you catch a glimpse of the white hills sparkling below, you gasp in delight. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” you say, craning your neck for a better look. 

“It’ll be too cold to be out long,” Din says, his tone apologetic, “but it seemed like our best option.” 

“We’ll be fine if we bundle up, right, kiddo?” you ask Grogu, who peers up at you with his bright brown eyes and coos as though in response to your brimming excitement as you think of all the fun you can introduce him to.

Din finds a field nestled at the bottom of a hill, a spot he must consider strategically safe. As soon as the Razor Crest touches down, you leap out of your seat to find wrappings for yourself and Grogu.

“I hope these are comfortable,” you tell the child as you seat him on a crate and fit his feet into small felt boots you’d found in a market after crash landing on Maldo Kreis. Granted, he hadn’t seemed too bothered by the planet’s cold, but you had still worried. “You’re going to love the snow, Grogu. You’ll have a lot more fun with it here than we did last time. No spiders, only powder to play in. You can do all sorts of things with it. You can roll it into a snowperson, or make snowballs, or - ” 

A wonderful idea comes to you just as Din descends from the cockpit, his boots thumping as he clears the lowest rungs of the ladder and swings to the floor. 

“Din!” you exclaim. “Do you have anything around here that could double as a sled?” 

Din’s visor locks with your eyes. “A sled?” 

“Yeah! There’s a hill right by the ship. I think Grogu would get a kick out of it. You know how he loves speed and thrills.”  

Din shakes his head a bit, and you coax, “Oh, come on. You know he’ll love it.”

“No, I’m sure he will,” Din says, and the amusement in his voice, evident even through the modulator, makes you realize you misinterpreted his previous gesture. “It’s a great idea.  What sort of item do you think would work?” 

“Maybe a spare tray or container,” you suggest as you shrug a coat over your clothes. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Din says, climbing back up the ladder to check the storage area by the generator room. You watch him go, a stab of wistful longing piercing your enthusiasm. For some time now you’ve been secretly harboring feelings for Din, but you’ve worked to conceal them. While you know that Din views you as a close companion, neither of you have openly expressed romantic feelings. Din has made a few gestures which kindled your hopes that he perhaps returned your affections, but you weren’t sure if you were just projecting meaning onto his actions.

You pull on a pair of gloves and, plucking Grogu from his seat, lower the side access ramp. You have to squint at the scene before you as the sun reflects off the snow, and you wonder if Din’s visor protects his eyes from the glare. 

Din had declared the coast was clear when the ship landed, and though you trust his assessment, out of an abundance of caution you carefully survey the area before venturing from the cargo hold. Sure enough, there’s nothing but plains of unblemished, glittering snow and clusters of swaying pine trees kissing the hillside. Grogu babbles his interest, tilting his head as he takes in the sights. You hop off the ramp, your boots sinking deep into the snow. The child might have some trouble navigating the deep powder, but that’s what you’re there for. 

You set Grogu down and he squeals, immediately thrusting his hands into the snow and throwing a tiny fistful into the air.

“Look at that, you made it snow!” you cheer him on. You scoop up a handful and sprinkle it between the pair of you, causing Grogu to grab at the falling flakes. “It’s pretty, huh?”

Grogu waddles through the snow with no apparent objective, simply absorbing the beauty around him. You follow him, giving him a hand when necessary and ooh-ing over the snow he picks up to show you.

Din’s voice, crackling as it carries over the snow, steals your attention away from Grogu as he calls your name and asks, “Will this work? 

You look back at the Razor Crest, where Din holds up a large tray for your inspection. “That’s great!” 

You pick up Grogu as Din approaches and asks you, “Where do you want this?” 

“Let’s take it to the top of the hill,” you say, taking a closer look at the tray and nodding in approval. “This should be perfect, it’s very sturdy. The bottom’s slick, too.” 

The pair of you march up the hill. The sounds of snow crunching underfoot, Din’s armor clanking, and your breathing are the only disruptions to the serene silence blanketing the planet. It’s as though the galaxy has narrowed down to a contented little bubble with just the three of you. All the worries of everyday life slip away, leaving you to feel the full strength of your love for the man by your side and the child in your arms. 

At the top of the hill, Din hands you the tray, and you set it in the snow. “Do you want to come with?” you ask Din, trying not to sound too hopeful as you situate yourself and Grogu on the tray. Sure enough, Din shakes his head. 

“Looks like there’s not much room,” he says. You don’t argue, although privately you think he could squeeze on. You’re about to start scooching the tray down the hill when Din adds, “But I’ll give you two a push.” 

Din lends down behind you, placing his hands low on your back and gently, but firmly, propels you and the tray forward with a few running steps. The tray zips away from Din and down the hill. Grogu begins squealing in delight, raising his tiny hands into the air. You lean back, trying to balance yourself as the tray whooshes along, and you find yourself completely lost in the nippy wind, glistening snow, and the child’s glee. 

The tray holds up much longer than you’d expected and doesn’t lose steam until you’ve made it nearly to the bottom of the hill. “How was that, buddy?” you ask Grogu, who gives you a toothy grin, his wide eyes sparkling. You laugh and press a kiss to the top of his head before standing up. 

As you begin to trek up the hill, Grogu in one arm and the tray tucked under the other, Din heads down toward you. You wonder if he thought you only wanted to sled down once, and you call to him, “Grogu loved that! We’re headed back up!” 

��I know,” he calls back. “I’m just coming to help with the tray.” 

You beam at that, although you assure him you’re having no problems managing both Grogu and the tray. However, that doesn’t stop him. He meets you down the hill and affectionately rubs Grogu on the head. “How’d you like that, you little womp rat?” 

Grogu gives him the same toothy grin he gave you, and you hear Din’s smile as he asks, “And how’d you like it?” 

“It was fantastic!” you exclaim as he takes the tray from you. “I haven’t been sledding since I was a kid, back on my home planet. My friends and I spent many happy days playing in the snow together.” You shake your head slightly, as though to ward off the nostalgia playing at your heart. “It was almost magical, really, how all of our cares disappeared once the snow started falling.”

“That sounds… very special,” Din says. His pace is slowed to match yours, and when you glance at him, the bright day reveals the outline of his jaw behind his tinted visor. “I’m glad you had that experience.”

“Did you ever go sledding as a child?” you ask. You used to worry about asking Din personal questions. He has always been so reticent, and you respect that. Yet you never want to deny him the option to share, especially when you care so much about his experiences. Over time, you learned both that Din would never share anything he didn’t want to and, for some reason, he opened up to you more than you would have expected.

“A few times,” Din replies. “It didn’t snow enough on the planet where I was born to sled, but it did on the first planet where I lived with the Mandalorians.” Din falls silent, and you’re about to reply when he continues. “I was excited about the snow. It was new, and I enjoyed playing with the other children. This was before the Great Purge, so the Tribe was more relaxed about letting its children wander in the open.” 

The idea of a young Din playing with other foundlings warms your heart, and you want to know more. “Did you get up to any mischief when you played with them?” 

Din cocks his helmet at you. “What makes you ask that?” The corners of your lips quirk up at the obviously-feigned innocence of his tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, pointing your finger at him. “I’m well acquainted with your understated, sassy quips, so I’m willing to bet you were a playful child.”

“That’s not a bad place to put your money.”

Once you get back to the top of the hill, Din tries to hand you the tray again, but you say, “If you’re just going to walk down after us, you might as well take the easy way down.” 

Din hesitates, and you second-guess yourself, worried that you’ve made him uncomfortable. But Din surprises you when he shrugs and says, “We can give it a shot.” He lowers the sled and climbs onto it. He fits, but barely, his knees hiked way up as he adjusts his weapons. His visor doesn’t meet your gaze as he says, “You can - um, here, I’ll hold you in front of me, if that’s okay.”

You nod, your cheeks warm. You can’t tell if the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering from nerves or from joy. Probably a bit of both. You crouch beside him and, still carefully holding Grogu, clamber over one of Din’s legs. Din places a large, sturdy hand on your side for support as you sit between his bent knees.

“Hold on,” Din says, twisting around and pulling his cape over the front of his body. “The beskar’s pretty cold. This should help.” 

“Thank you,” you say, your heart squeezing. You gingerly press yourself against the beskar, trying to make yourself as small as possible on the squished tray. Din passes Grogu to you and then adjusts his own position, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to himself. It’s all you can do to resist the urge to completely melt into his embrace. 

“Is that okay?” he asks, his helmet hovering just above your shoulder. You fail to fight off the shiver that runs down your spine, and hope that Din didn’t pick up on it, although you’re perfectly aware that he didn’t become the best bounty hunter in the galaxy for no reason. 

“Yes.” Your voice is strained with the effort of concealing how the feeling of his broad chest snug against your back is making your heart dance wildly. Of course, that strain is revealing in itself, which only flusters you further. In an attempt to wave aside the implications of your bumbling behavior, you clear your throat and reach over one of Din’s thighs to push off in the snow, forcing yourself to cheer, “Let’s get this thing flying!”

You and Din paddle the tray along until it picks up momentum and glides down the hill. You whoop in excitement, readjusting your grip on Grogu as Din securely wraps his free arm around the both of you. The gesture nearly shocks you out of the moment, but Grogu’s uncontrollable giggling brings you back to your senses, prompting your own laughter - and Din’s. You’ve never heard him laugh before, and his modulated chuckles in your ear send your heart soaring faster than the speeding sled.

The ride comes to an abrupt halt as the sled hits a snag and jerks to the right. The three of you tumble off into a pile of tangled limbs, Din’s arm still locked around you and Grogu. His efforts aren’t enough to keep you from getting a faceful of snow, but this only causes you to laugh harder, even as your cheek numbs from the cold. 

“Are you okay?” Din asks, effortlessly pulling you up with him as he gets to his feet. 

“I’m fine,” you giggle. “I’m better than fine, actually. I think the same goes for Grogu.” 

You managed to keep the kid out of the snow, and the ride’s rocky end only seems to have fueled his desire for another trip. Eager to indulge him, you bend down to retrieve the tray, scrubbing your face with your glove, although it’s already soaked and does nothing to dry your cheek. Din grasps your elbow, arresting your movement.

“Your face is going to freeze,” he says. “Would it be okay if I - uh - ” He grabs a handful of his cape, a part where the fabric is still dry. Caught off guard, you stammer some sort of affirmative, and Din steps close to you, dabbing the melted snowflakes from your cheek. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, the heat strong against your chilled skin, and you fear Din will notice. Yet, in a moment of boldness - in a moment of hope - you fix your gaze on Din’s visor as you savor his gentle touch guiding the rough material of his cape.

“There,” he says, dropping his hand - only for you to catch it. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. He wordlessly but earnestly returns the gesture, and your nerves dissolve.

His voice is uncharacteristically thick with emotion as he breathes, “Anything for you, cyar’ika.” 

You haven’t heard the word before, although you assume it’s Mando’a. “What does that mean?” 

“It means… I’ll always be here to care for you. If that’s what you want.” 

Still clutching Din’s hand, you raise your own, untangling your fingers only to rest your glove against the metal cheek of his helmet. He places his hand over yours, completely covering it as your fingers stroke the beskar.

“There’s nothing I’d like more, Din.”

Grogu pats his father’s breastplate a few times, breaking the moment and causing the pair of you to look down at him. He chirps and looks at the top of the hill with longing. 

“It looks like someone wants another ride,” you say fondly, rocking the child in your arm before looking at Din again. “What do you say?” 

“Whatever you two want,” Din says, and, despite his earlier concerns about the cold beskar, he doesn’t seem to be able to help himself from leaning his forehead against yours in a feather-light touch. “I can’t resist either of you.”

[goodolreliable-crows]

Nightmares and confessions 

Bumswiftery cuz this ship needs more content.

Smoking cw

Skittery stood in the bathroom area of the lodge, debating whether pumping water to wash his face would be too loud and wake the other boys. It was late, although he didn’t know the exact time. He had been trying to save up for a pocket watch but never could scrap together the funds. Judging by the soft sounds of the boys deep in slumber in the next room over and the crescent moon in the sky, he determined it was around midnight. 

He had woken up clammy from a nightmare and didn’t feel like trying to fall asleep again. He had seen some of the other boys have nightmares- Blink mostly, who frequently woke up screaming at any hours of the night before Mush had to rush over and comfort him. He never had dreams like that, which he was thankful for. He couldn’t imagine what that boy had been through to continue to be tortured by his own mind like that. 

The nightmares he had were just vague unsettling things that continuously crept over his mind the rest of the day, or at least until he snatched a cigar from someone. They were usually about improbable, sometimes childish things he felt guilty for letting bother him- monsters, his little brother getting hurt, or his family finding out something about him that he didn’t want anyone knowing. 

Not that he had any secrets that bothered him like that. That’s what he told himself. 

He decided it wasn’t worth it to get water, instead leaning his elbows on the trough and setting his head against his forearms. The cool breeze from the early spring rainstorm drifting in from the drafty windows felt nice against the clammy, bare skin of his back. 

He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired every day no matter what he did. 

After a few silent moments, listening to the rain, he felt the warmth of fingertips creep suddenly onto his shoulder. He jumped up, turning around and instinctively taking a defensive position with his fists balled. It was dark, but the curly mop of brown hair, hazel-green eyes, and toned muscles, visible even through his undershirt, told him who it was. Swifty was always doing that, sneaking up behind people and startling them whether he meant it or not. He was too nimble, too light on his feet. 

“Jeez, what’d ya do that for?” Skittery  whispered furiously, his face growing hot as he wished he had pulled on a shirt when he was leaving his bunk.

“Sorry, wanted to make sure you’s ok,” Swifty whispered back, his cheeks slightly red. 

Of course it had to be Swifty, Skittery thought to himself. Swifty had to be the one to wake up, when he was one of the two causing all these problems in the first place. 

Skittery didn’t blame the two boys for the feelings he got. It wasn’t their fault that he got lost in his head whenever Bumlets flipped his hair out of his face, or that he got a funny feeling in his stomach when Swifty adjusted his clothes. And it certainly wasn’t their fault for that sour, jealous mood that he couldn’t seem to shake after he walked into the lodge early one day, finding Bumlets being pushed up against the wall by Swifty, kissing his neck with his hands at his waist. 

That wasn’t his business. He just wanted a lover- he was jealous for the relationship they had, that was all. He wasn’t going to let his silly envy get in the way of his friendship, or let it bother whatever they had going on. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.” 

Skittery watched as Swifty sat down on the weathered floorboards, much to his dismay, his dangling suspenders clattering on the hardwood. He wasn’t in the mindset to stay up with someone. He glanced back to his empty bunk, briefly pondering if he could return to it without seeming rude. He decided against it, reluctantly joining the boy on the floor and crossing his legs. 

“You sick or something? You felt hot,” He asked softly. Swifty knew how hard it was to get Skittery into a conversation when he didn’t initiate it. It was somewhat of a skill, trying to carefully word his sentences to draw him in. Unfortunately, he was still groggy himself, meaning he wasn’t as slick with his tongue as he could be. 

“No, just had a nightmare,” the tall boy mumbled back. 

“You wanna tell me about it?” Swifty patiently asked. 

“Already forgetting it.” 

Swifty nodded, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get much of a conversation out of him. After a beat of silence, he dug around in the pockets of his shorts and procured a cigarette, offering it to him. Skittery’s gaze flicked from it back to the other boy's eyes, before taking it from him and setting it in the corner of his mouth. 

After successfully striking a match and lighting the cigarette, tendrils of smoke curling into the air, he leaned back on his elbows and looked Swifty up and down. 

“What about you, huh? What are you doin’ up so early?” 

“Just couldn’t sleep. Have a lot going on in my head,” he answered, somewhat relieved that the cigarette seemed to do the trick to get Skittery out of his shell, at least a little bit. 

He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether he gave a fulfilling answer, before holding out the lit cigarette, embers glowing bright in the otherwise dark room. Swifty eyed him curiously, his bright eyes picking out details of the other boy's body best as he could in the darkness. 

“When I get nightmares I cozy up to Bumlets, ya know. You ain’t got someone like that? A gal or a fella or nothin’?” Swifty asked, after passing the cigarette back. 

Skitterys expression stiffened as he tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. 

“No, I ain't got a gal like that. And I ain’t like you either.” 

“Like me?” The curly haired boy replied, his eyebrows raising. 

“Ya know with the,” Skittery’s eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “With the fellas.” 

Swifty pulled his legs against his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Well jeez, that ain’t what I was askin’.” 

“It ain’t your business.” 

Swifty sighed, knowing he had ruined what little softness he had pried out of him. “Don’t see how. You’s a looker, Skits.” 

Skittery felt his face flush, accompanied by a strange fluttering in his chest. He hated it. These feelings were stupid, impractical, and most importantly, could never be replicated. Swifty had Bumlets. They were happy together, and Skittery would just have to suck it up and bear through the agony that came with seeing them cuddling at night, or exchange kisses on the cheek in the morning, or playfully ruffle each other’s hair before buying papers. 

It had never occurred to him how much these things bothered him until he had Swifty all to himself, with nothing else but a shared cigarette and that wretched insomnia. 

“I’m going to try to sleep,” Skittery mumbled suddenly, Standing up and heading back towards the threshold between the bathroom and the bunks. In one motion, Swifty grabbed his wrist, pulled him back, and pinned his waist to the counter, gazing up at his face through the thick darkness. 

“What the hell’s up with you lately, John?” He whispered furiously, tightening his grip below his ribs. Skittery stood like a statue, his mouth gaping open as he prayed his weak knees would hold him. Their chests were almost touching, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his stomach against his own in the brief eternity before he could cough out an answer. 

“Nothin’”, he said, his voice coming out small. His heart drummed as he watched a lock of Swifty's hair uncurl itself from his bangs and fall neatly onto his forehead. His eyes glistened in the shadows, filled with suspicion and curiosity.

“Nothings goin’ on with me, why’d you think that?” 

“I dunno, maybe how you can’t seem to stand being around me during the day?” 

Skittery took a breath, his arms glued to his sides. “It’s just me bein’ dumb, alright? Don’t worry about it.” 

“Worry about it?! Skits you...” he slowly released his grip, his hands trailing down from his waist to his hips. “You ain’t...”

“I ain’t what,” Skittery breathed, barely audible over his heartbeat.  

And in a split second, Swifty closed the gap between their mouths, his eyes fluttering shut as Skittery’s hands found their way onto the back of his neck. It was a tender, slow kiss, filled with questions and curiosity. Every thought or strange feeling left over from his nightmare had vanished. He wasn't sure if the rain was still falling- he couldn't hear a thing. Skittery discovered the other boy's lips were surprisingly silky, and he pulled away, chest heaving, with a fruity taste on his tongue. 

“Why the hell did ya do that?” Skittery said quietly, his fingers biting into the shorter boy’s shoulders. 

He shrugged in response, apparently more agitated from his response than alarmed from kissing his friend. 

“I don’t get you, Victor,” he said uneasily as he saw Swifty’s face drifting up towards his again. 

“Stop.” He pushed him away by his shoulders, struggling to put space in between them. “We can’t do this, Vic, what the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Do I really gotta walk you through why it’s ok to kiss a fella?”He answered in a bemused tone. 

“It ain’t that, Swifty!” he said furiously, forgetting to lower his voice. “You think I don’t wanna do that every time I see ya?! You think I've been putting myself through this shit for nothin’? I ain’t meant for romance. And whatever feelings that gave me ain’t exactly exclusive to you either. I couldn’t make no one happy like they want me to. Nothin’ like that will ever work out for me.” He shoved him away, walking a few paces towards the windows. “And how could ya do somethin’ like this to a sweet fella like Bumlets?!” he added, his voice quiet again. 

Swifty was strangely composed, standing straight up with his hands in his pant pockets. It was strange to see his friend like this. Skittery always spent most of his time contemplating everything, analyzing conversations and movements to make sure he was completely understanding what was going on. He never let a thing go misinterpreted. He was better with being told things straight out- it surprised Swifty that a kiss, which to Skittery might’ve meant anything, for once got his point across efficiently. 

“That’s what you’s worked up about? That I kissed you while I still got Bumlets?” He asked, collected despite the fact his heart was still racing. “Me and him have been talkin’, Skits. He likes you too.”

The other boy froze, the words sending a peculiar feeling down his spine. “What do ya mean by that?” 

“I mean he likes ya, I like ya, and we like each other.” He slowly approached him, as if to not startle him away. “I’m sayin’ if you wanna be in on whatever we got going on,” he trailed off, tenderly slipping his arms around his waist again. 

“Ya mean it, Victor? You two…” he mumbled tentatively, his own hands creeping onto his midsection. 

And before he knew it they were kissing again, searing and passionate. It was something that happened on instinct, a thing Skittery didn’t let control him very often. It was as relieving as it was terrifying. 

Skittery pulled away abruptly, responding to Swifty's confused expression by holding a finger to his lips. He peered over him through the darkness at all the boys seemingly still asleep in the next room over. They were too visible for his liking, especially since he knew many of them pretended to be asleep to pry into others' business. 

He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into one of the bathroom stalls, where they whispered little confessions in between long kisses, all the way till light started shining in from under the door and the clamor of waking boys told them they were moments from being discovered.

__________

The next day was gray, with rain that sprinkled heavily on and off. Normally, this would send Skittery into a worse mood than usual, causing him to barely get any papers sold, rather spending his day under shop awnings with the stack over his head. However he barely noticed the rain, and although his mouth was in a tight line and his eyebrows furrowed, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that he couldn’t get rid of. 

He remembered saying a lot to Swifty the night before, mostly embarrassing, sappy things that he carried on his shoulders with an air of shame. He remembered something about being in love, something about his heart melting when he sees Bumlets, something about him not being able to believe that the two handsomest guys in the lodge liked him. Recalling it made him cringe. He couldn’t believe he would let his guard down like that now that he was out of the moment. 

He knew he had to talk to Bumlets soon and work out his feelings for him as he did with Swifty, but he could barely stand to be in the same room with either of them. He left early, turning away after hearing one of them call his name. He was aware he was just avoiding something that would have to be dealt with eventually. He was no good with feelings, or change for that matter. 

Luckily the opportunity presented itself sooner than he preferred, when he settled on a bench under a damp umbrella in the park. It was a particularly heavy batch of rain, making him shiver no matter how tight he pulled his coat around him. He suddenly felt himself sandwiched by warmth, one of the boys on each side of him. 

“Hey Skits,” he heard Bumlets say, although his gaze stayed fixed on the patch of ground in front of him. “Heard you was bein’ sweet with my fella last night,” he said in an amused tone, hitting his shoulder with his own. 

Skittery felt paralyzed, staying silent as both boys looked at him expectantly. He felt a raindrop snake down his neck and down his collar. 

“Why don’t ya tell Bumlets some of those things you told me last night,” Swifty added once it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond. 

“Won’t you two leave me alone till later,” he finally answered, snapping his head up and looking at the boy on the right. He immediately regretted it. Bumlets’ damp bangs were drooping onto his forehead, his brown eyes illuminated curiously by the  raindrops coming down. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone dotted with freckles. 

“We ain’t gonna leave you alone, Skits, not with weather as romantic as this!” He motioned wildly with his hand, collecting a few raindrops in his palm before drying it off on Skittery’s knee. “But we also ain’t gonna pressure you or nothin, right Bumlets?” Swifty added. 

Skittery let both boys set their arms around him, although his shoulders were stiff and his face was hot. The three sat there, listening to each other breathing for hours with their arms tangled. The tall boy in the middle indulged himself just a little bit more by the minute, letting himself grow comfortable between them. He knew that's what he wanted. He knew that that’s what he had been dreaming about subconsciously for a lot longer than he cared to admit. It would take time for him to adjust, as it always did for him with new experiences and changes of his life. 

But he was trying to get better at change. Maybe that’s why he let Swifty kiss his cheek, after checking that the rain had driven everyone out of the park. Maybe that’s why he let Bumlets take his waist and kiss him softly, when the moment felt right. And that’s why they walked back to the lodge, shivering, with their arms still hooked around each other, the tallest boy feeling on top of the world.

[arcticfox007]

Interlude

Destiel December Challenge 2020

Day 10: Mistletoe

This is a continuation of Days 2-9. 

This one is a bit short, and all fluff. I hope you enjoy! The story will continue with Day 11 and you can read more here on my master post or here on AO3.

***

               Dean woke up on the pull-out sometime in the middle of the night. He woke up slowly, not truly awake, which was usual for him especially in a strange room. He didn’t get up, just let his eyes roam blearily around the room. Sam and Charlie had claimed the larger bed in the suite while Dean was still in the small living area. After taking in the room that was cast in soft moonlight Dean’s eyes rested on the angel who had taken up residence on the window seat. As soon as Dean spotted Castiel’s gaze on him the angel shifted uncomfortably and looked out of the window instead.

               Dean knew it was his own fault. Cas had been watching over him for so many years now, but all Dean ever did was give him grief about personal space and how it was creepy to stare while someone was sleeping. Honestly though, Dean didn’t mind. If Dean could have watched Cas sleep, he would have. As it was, he took the rare moment to just look at the beautiful creature framed by the moonlit snow through the large window. Castiel was still wearing the ridiculous matching flannel Christmas PJs that Charlie had insisted they all wear (although Dean had to admit they were extremely comfortable). Dean smiled at the fuzzy socks Cas had picked out for himself, cute cats with Santa hats. He had given Dean socks with angels on them, saying they looked like the angels from the scavenger hunt, but Dean knew he’d keep them because they reminded him of Cas.

               It was still snowing outside, although it looked like it was dying down. The soft white backdrop gave Cas a kind of glow, and even from the pull-out Dean could see the angel’s blue eyes crinkling at the edges as a soft smile tipped up one side of the angel’s mouth. Dean suspected that Cas knew he was being stared at.

               “Can’t sleep?” Cas’ voice was barely above a whisper.

               “I guess not.”, Dean mumbled. Cas kept his gaze on the snowfall outside and Dean continued to file away the scene into his memory. For the first time he noticed the leafy decorations that hung around the window seat. Mostly it was loops of garland and red ribbon, but there was one plant hanging on either end that Dean didn’t recognize right away. Since he was up anyway, he decided to get a closer look. One was in the corner right above where Cas was leaning back on the wall. Dean shuffled over to Cas, still feeling hazy as if this was all a dream. The angel turned to Dean as he approached, giving him a questioning look.

               “Dean?” Dean had already stared at Cas, so he felt he could also ignore his personal space rule as well. His chest brushed Castiel’s shoulder as Dean reached up to touch the sprig of plant hanging from a nail on the wall. It looked familiar but Dean’s mind was fuzzy and he couldn’t quite place it.

               “Be careful, it probably has Nargles.”, Cas stated in a completely serious voice. Dean let out a soft laugh and Cas’ unexpected pop-culture reference.

               “Mistletoe. I knew I recognized it.” It took a moment for his sleep addled brain to realize what he’d just said. Mistletoe. Hanging right above him and Cas. Dean could feel the blush rapidly spreading over his face. His eyes widened with the realization that he and the angel were alone out here, in the middle of the night, underneath the mistletoe. Cas seemed to misinterpret Dean’s reaction and quickly turned so he was facing the window again.

               “It’s alright Dean, we don’t have to observe every Christmas tradition.” Maybe Dean was imagining it but he thought Cas sounded disappointed. Dean took a shaky breath as his heart beat even faster. He dared to reach out and put his hand on the far side of Cas’ face. Cas’ stubble was rough against Dean’s hand and he found himself brushing his thumb across the angel’s jaw just for the sensation of it. He gently turned Castiel’s face back to him, stunned all over again by the depth and intensity of the angel’s eyes.

               “I don’t mind if you don’t.” Dean’s voice came out rougher than he had intended it to. He waited nervously as Cas’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly. After a moment that felt like an eternity, the angel licked his lips and nodded. Dean leaned in slowly, apparently too slowly for Cas who met him halfway. It was a chaste kiss, soft and fleeting, and yet the feelings that rushed through Dean as their lips met were unlike anything else he’d ever experienced. Dean resisted his need to lean in and explore the angel’s lips and mouth more thoroughly. He just held Cas’ face for a moment longer appreciating the Christmas tradition that had allowed him this small blessing. Cas’ eyes were closed, as if they hadn’t yet stopped kissing.

               “Thank you, Dean.” Cas sounded as if he were a bit breathless himself. Dean reluctantly released Cas’ face and took a small step back.

               “For what?” Dean still wasn’t convinced that he was really awake, this was more like a dream every second. Cas’ just smiled at him.

               “All of this. Teaching me about holiday traditions. I feel – happy.” Dean let a nervous grin take over his face. Maybe that kiss had just been another Christmas tradition to Cas, but that was okay. He was genuinely glad that Cas seemed so much happier recently.

               “I know I don’t show it a lot, but I care about you Cas. You’ve given up so much for us, and I feel like I haven’t given much back in return. I, uh, I like making you happy.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly until he dared another glance at the angel’s face only to see him beaming at Dean. Dean smiled back and sat down on the other side of the window seat. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence watching the wind carry the snow through the trees outside. Dean didn’t remember falling asleep outside of the sensation of being lifted in strong arms and feeling the ghost of a soft touch on his forehead. A warm blanket was pulled up over him and Dean thought that if this was all a dream, that it was the best one he’d ever had.

               “It’s okay Dean, I’ll watch over you.” Dean snuggled into the blankets and whispered back a thank you, not being able to see the stunned look on Castiel’s face as he realized Dean actually wanted the angel to watch over him. Dean drifted off to the comforting sensation of someone running fingers through his hair.

***

@galaxycastiel, @jellydeans, @nguyenxtrang, @my-favourite-hellatus

[lvrexe]

Wild Ride | [2] Hatake

ughhh finally this is completed... it took me a month and some revisions but I got it out. s/n: it’s hardly edited.

[ AO3 ] [ CHAPTER ONE ]

General Fic Info

Rating — Explicit Category — M/M

Content Warnings — None apply Completion — Unfinished

Ships; Hatake Kakashi/Shiranui Genma, Sarutobi Asuma/Shiranui Genma, Hatake Kakashi/Shiranui Genma/Sarutobi Asuma, Nohara Rin/Uchiha Obito

Genre; Romance, Angst, Modern! AU, Occasional Fluff

Tags; Porn with Plot, Poly Relationships, Friends with Benefits, Eventual Romance, Alternative Universe, Semi-Modern AU, Anal sex, Explicit Content, Misinterpreted Relationships, Misunderstandings, Drinking, Alcoholism

Chapter Specific Tags; SFW, just Kakashi set-up, Kakashi mistaking a hook-up as a romantic relationship

Kakashi stirred awake with a heavy weight on his chest. Propping one eye open, he was greeted with the sight of Genma sleeping soundly in his bare chest. Rays of sunlight highlighted most of his features, shining parts of Genma’s peaceful expression, strands of chestnut brown bangs covered parts of his face. His lips gently parted as his body rose and fell with each subtle and calm breath he took.

His eyes narrowed as he inspected the brunette; Genma was an oddity to him— not that he actually minded, quite the opposite. Now, he looked peaceful and sweet, as if he didn’t just ride Kakashi’s dick the previous night. Surprisingly, Genma was well-versed in hiding his more… “slutty” side, to put it bluntly— not many outside of the close-knit friend group knew of his nightly activities. To outsiders, Genma was a man of a calm and collected nature and truly, he was. There just was this hidden side to him.

Slipping Genma off him, Kakashi slowly peeled himself off his bed. He stumbled across his room, stepping over his clothes scattered around his floor. He had expected several sights to be regular occurrences; Naruto and Sasuke fighting, Sakura stopping them; Gai challenging him to any sort of test of skill; Obito and Rin dragging him out of his house. Was him waking up to Genma in his bed and their clothes scattered across his house going to be another recurring scene?

He scrounged around in his drawers for a pair of boxers, some loose pants and fished out a plain white tee. He headed for his bathroom silently, slipping out of his room to not disturb his sleeping… Well, he assumed “partner”. A warm sensation filled his chest as he thought about that. Genma as his partner. Huh, that sounded oddly nice.

He was quick to snap out of it once he reached the door to his bathroom. He shook off the thoughts and let out a sigh. He disregarded the warmth those thoughts brung and pushed into his bathroom.

By the time Kakashi was finished with his shower, Genma was still in his deep slumber. He decided to let him sleep in. His bedroom was just Genma’s for now. Though, Kakashi managed to snag his favourite book series, Icha Icha Paradise. His living area was better lit than his bedroom; a near perfect quantity of natural light peering through the kitchen window, some wandering into his attached living room, the glass sliding doors also provided a fair amount of light as well. He plopped down on his couch and he momentarily froze when his eyes landed on the open whiskey bottle Genma had left. Beside it was Genma’s buzzing phone. It stopped and the screen went black before Kakashi could see what the notification was.

Kakashi was a simple man; he saw a phone buzz from a notification, he got curious. Interest piqued, he reached down and snatched up the phone. It lit up as he pressed the power button. A monochromatic picture of a hand lazily holding a cigarette between two fingers was set as the background. Kakashi cocked his eyebrows at Genma’s set background, it was a bit odd to him but it oddly fit Genma. His attention switched over to the notifications on the screen. A few missed calls, some unanswered messages from Hayate and Shizune, all previews hidden until unlocked, and at the top of it was a reminder. “Tell squads of Chunin Exams” was the title. Guess Genma couldn’t tell all of them the day before.

A tinge of guilt pulled at his chest, he shouldn’t be snooping around. He followed his gut and shut off the phone and placed it back on his coffee table. He grabbed his book and leaned back into his couch, kicking up his feet on his table. Flipping his book open, he tore his attention away from Genma’s phone.

He wasn’t certain how much time had passed after he started a new chapter, but a knock pulled his head out from the pages of his book. He snapped his book closed and pulled himself up from the couch, tossing his book onto the table. He peered through the peephole and stood outside his door was his old teammate, Obito.

Obito’s scarred but bright face beamed at his door, as if he could tell Kakashi was peeking through the hole. His right side was heavily scarred and deformed, a lifetime reminder of the consequences of war. It was a damn miracle Obito survived the war, especially after getting crushed. Kakashi insisted that he return his Sharingan but Obito denied no matter the protest. Now, Obito’s left eye bore the late Fourth Hokage’s eye. Kakashi never got the story of how he received it, but regardless, he was grateful to the Gods, or the Heavens, or whatever, that Obito still stood tall beside him nonetheless.

Unlocking the door, the silver-haired shinobi swung his front door open. Obito grinned ear-to-ear as the white door opened. “Kakashi!” he blurted out, arms spread wide in an exaggerated way to greet the tired shinobi before him. Without warning, he hooked around Kakashi’s neck, pulling the man close. “How’s it going, huh?”

“Obito… it’s only…” Kakashi peeled himself away from his friend and leaned backwards to peer back into his kitchen. “9:30 in the morning.”

“Yeah, but didja forget already?” Obito chirped up as he tugged his best friend close once more, “Breakfast with me and Rin?”

Kakashi’s face recoiled with regret as a hiss left his throat— aimed towards him obviously. “Shit… I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Uh... Just give me a moment. Just stay here.”

As Obito released his grip, Kakashi pushed away from him. “No worries, ‘Kashi,” he replied. He peered over the shoulder of the silver-haired shinobi as Kakashi scrambled around in his house. He took note of the open whiskey bottle in the open living room and the extra pair of shinobi sandals. Obito wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he also wasn’t naive.

A grin pried at the corners of the Uchiha’s lips as he peered over to Kakashi hovering over his kitchen table, scribbling something down. “Hey, Kakashi, it’s a bit rude to not invite someone in, right?” he teasingly piped up.

Kakashi immediately flinched and sputtered a bit. He knew Obito knew. He turned his head and shakingly looked over at his teammate. “Uh… Well, we’re heading out in a minute, right?” he blurted out. He pushed the cap onto the pen and tossed it to the side. He ripped off the sticky note from the stack and slapped it onto his fridge. As Obito leaned forward in an attempt to read the note, he huffed and covered the side with his hand. Obito backed off and he let out a sigh before reading over the note;

Genma,

I’m heading out for the day. Help yourself to some coffee and breakfast. Make sure to lock the door on your way out. If you’re free, come by tonight.

Kakashi

That was inviting enough, right?... Yeah, probably. Kakashi pushed himself away from his fridge and gathered himself. He slipped on his shoes and pushed Obito out of his house by stepping out himself. He locked the door and shoved the key into his pocket. “Ready to go?” he asked his friend.

Obito, his prying now diminished by the front door shutting, sighed but shrugged his shoulders. He stuffed his hands in his pocket and nodded. “Guess so,” he murmured. Kakashi walked past him and he took one final glance at the house, hoping to spot any sort of movement in the house. But alas, the person in Kakashi’s house was still out-cold sleeping.

“Obito.”

He jolted a bit before scurrying off the porch to catch up with Kakashi.

Rin gazed through the large windows of the small cafe, the lines were long and most tables were filled. She had expected the long lines but not the tables being filled, it was a week day, shouldn’t people be hurrying off to their jobs?

She cursed to herself, silently lecturing to herself for not going in sooner. She took a glance around before slipping inside the shop and sneaking off to the back where one table was clear and free for the taking. The smell of brewing coffee, freshly baked bagels and muffins reached her nostrils and left her a warm, fuzzy feeling blooming in her chest. Nostalgia? Maybe. Team Minato did share several memories here. She slipped into the booth seat and pulled out her phone from her back pocket. Two messages from Obito popped up when her lock screen lit up; “Got Kakashi.”, and “Heading over now~ <3”. She simply sent a thumbs up back, then added a heart emoji for good measure.

It didn’t take the two long before they arrived through the glass doors, bell ringing to alert the baristas of new customers. Rin raised up and a smile grew on her glossy lips. She waved the two Jounin over and closed her mobile game. Kakashi slid onto the seat across from her and Obito walked over to her side, leaning in for a quick kiss of greeting. She shifted over and gave him a spot to sit.

“Didn’t order us drinks?” Obito questioned.

She shook her head and sighed. “Not yet. Line’s been busy and I wanted to grab a good table.” She leaned back into the booth as she gazed over to the two lines at the counters. The cafe had died down a bit in noise but a good five or six people still stood in line. “Here, scoot out, I’ll go order now.”

Kakashi raised his hand in quick protest. “No, no,” he was quick to speak up. He smiled under his mask and stood up. “I’ll pay for our drinks,” he assured as he shifted out of their booth. If Rin or Obito had any objections, he didn’t wait to hear them as he walked into the nearest line.

It took a few minutes but Kakashi finally arrived at the front of the line, tapping on the counter with two fingers as he waited for the barista to come back around. He stood up straight as the employee approached the counter after handing over another customer’s order. His cheeks heated up under his mask as the man approached him. He wore the company uniform of a plain white shirt, black pants and a dark green apron wrapped around his front. Attached to his apron was a nametag: “Touma”.

“Sorry about that, just a busy day today,” Touma excused with a quick chuckle. His face beamed with happiness, a bright smile upon his lips. Kakashi couldn’t tell if it was genuine or if it was forced, but it felt genuine. “What can I get you today?”

Kakashi was grateful he always wore masks, he knew he was a blushing mess underneath. “Urm, well,” he sputtered for a moment, “A medium espresso, large iced coffee and a large mocha coffee.”

Touma hummed in response as he punched in the order. “Anything else today?” he asked.

Kakashi shook his head. “Uh, no, that’s all,” he replied.

“Alright,” Touma nodded. “Your total is 1,212 yen.”

He was quick to pay in cash and slid off to the side, waiting for his order. His eyes lingered on the barista he spoke to. Touma was his type. Shoulder-length dark hair, average height and slender. Touma also held his hair back— but the more Kakashi thought about it, it was probably a requirement for work—, pinning his bangs out of eyes, hair placed in a low, short ponytail. Walnut brown hair, pale skin and deep brown eyes. Touma wasn’t too extraordinary but God, he was attractive.

As he stared, Touma looked familiar. It most definitely wasn’t from him being a regular; Kakashi never paid much attention to the workers. The long locks of brown hair, the deep brown eyes, the pale skin. The same height too. As his eyes lingered on Touma, the barista shifted from himself to another Jounin. Genma.

Touma was a near-perfect doppelganger of Genma.

The three drinks were pushed onto the counter in front of him. He snapped out of his daze and gripped the edge of the cardboard cup tray. As he picked it up, Touma spoke up: “Hey, uh, you’re a shinobi, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, I am,” he answered. “Oh good, I could tell by your headband,” Touma explained. He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled a bit. “If you’re free, come by on Sunday. We do this thing called ‘Shinobi Sunday’ every month. Shinobi of the Leaf get discounts on their orders.”

Kakashi raised his brows in surprise; it must’ve been something new. He nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah… I’ll see if I’m free.” Not sure how to continue the conversation, or if he even should, Kakashi nodded his head goodbye and slipped away from the counter, letting Touma return to his work.

As he returned to his table, the first thing he noticed was Rin staring intently at him, head resting between her hands. He sighed, preparing for Rin’s antics, and slid the tray onto the table as he sat down.

Rin grabbed her iced coffee and pulled her straw out of its paper wrapping. She grinned as she stabbed her straw into the lid. “Soooo~...?” she sang, giggling to herself. “Did you get his number?”

“I’m– I’m sorry?”

“Did you get that guy’s number?” she repeated. She sipped on her iced coffee and leaned on the table. She had watched the entire interaction but she lacked the audio. “He seemed into you, y’know,” she whispered, as if Obito couldn’t hear. “You should totally ask him out.”

Kakashi’s entire face turned a deep shade of red, face practically steaming, body melting away in embarrassment. “I—! N-no, I couldn’t… He’s just an employee, he’s just doing his job,” he excused, waving off Rin’s pushing. He took a glance over to Touma as he grabbed his espresso. He turned his head down and stared into his cup before prying off his mask to take a sip. “Besides, we hardly know each other. It’d be awkward, right?”

Rin, used to Kakashi’s dismissals, only sighed and slumped her shoulders, sinking back into her seat, sipping on her iced coffee. This was a regular affair between the two, ever since the two were in their teens. Of course, back then, Rin had assumed Kakashi was straight and constantly tried to set him up with any girl who indicated the slightest interest in the son of the White Fang. She had apologized a million times over when he had revealed he was actually gay when the three of them were 17. But that hardly stopped her from her self-promoted role of ‘matchmaker’.

One advantage of being so close with Kakashi was the fact Rin understood his mannerisms. It took her a couple of years but she could tell who and what he was attracted to— probably quicker than he would. But alas, no matter how hard she pushed, Kakashi would retreat back into his shell of solitude. It was a back-and-forth between the two and Kakashi always remained the victor each and every single time.

Defeated, Rin sipped on her iced coffee, ready to change the topic, perhaps about her or Kakashi’s team— oh, how she wondered how Kakashi’s students were doing. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen them. As she finished off her few sips, she opened her mouth to direct the conversation elsewhere, but Obito had other plans.

“You should ask him out,” Obito insisted.

Kakashi jerked forward as his drink got stuck in his throat from pure shock. He coughed and hid his face in his arm as he slowly recovered. “I’m sorry?”

“Come on, Kakashi. You can’t honestly expect love to just fall into your arms, do you?”

“Well no but—”

Obito leaned forward onto the table. “Then go ask him out. You find him attractive, he probably finds you attractive— half of this damn village does, so take the risk, Kakashi.”

Rin huffed and smacked Obito in the arm. “Come on, Obito, he already said he won’t.”

“Well, he never tries. He should just this once,” Obito insisted. “He’s missed out on so many opportunities already.”

“Obito!” Rin badgered.

Kakashi sighed and finished off his drink with large gulps. He tugged his mask back up his face and over his nose. He raised his hand, butting into the argument. “Rin, it’s fine,” he assured as he spoke up. “Obito’s right.”

Rin turned her head. “What? So you’ll ask the barista out?”

He shook his head, “I never said that. I just said Obito’s right in me never trying.”

Kakashi rubbed the back of his neck. His cheeks tinted a shade of red. “I guess I’m trying to… not miss an opportunity this time,” he admitted sheepishly to his teammates. “There’s someone, I suppose…”

That caught Rin’s attention. Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on the table. “Oh~?” she sang, “Who is it? How’d you two finally start things? Is he cute? I bet he’s cute.”

“Well, I-.. I wouldn’t want to share his personal information…”

“Oh come on, just a name Kakashi? Please?”

Obito took a few sips out of his drink as he watched Rin pester Kakashi for answers but he remained strong in holding back any information she pried for. His mind wandered for a moment before it snapped back to the extra shoes he had seen before. “Wait, is it the guy you—”

“Yes.” Kakashi was quick to butt in.

“Huh. You sure he’s who you want?”

The silver-haired shinobi nodded. He sighed with content and thought back to the brunette man who drove him utterly crazy. “... Yeah,” he affirmed as he thought of Genma.

“He’s who I want.”

“Bye Kakashi!” Rin called out one last time as she and Obito parted ways with him.

Kakashi smiled under his mask, waving goodbye to the other two Jounin. He ambled down the streets of Konoha, shuffling past the groups and gatherings that crowded the roads. His mind lingered back to the upcoming Chunin Exams as he passed by some excited Genin team rambling about it. He’d have to tell his own team about it soon. That, and he’d have to send a message to the Fifth assuring her the three were ready for their second Chunin Exam. He could go visit her personally as well, but Genma’s words from the day before advised him against it; she was probably busied to the bone.

“Kakashi-senpai.”

He recognized that tranquil and composed voice and he shifted around on his heels. A man with cedar brown hair landed on the dirt street before him. His face lit up when he saw the face of an old ANBU friend. “Ah, Tenzo,” he greeted, “It’s nice to finally see you once again. Been awhile.”

Tenzo had a gentle smile on his lips as he approached Kakashi. “It has,” he replied. “Since the disbandment of the ANBU, correct?” Kakashi nodded. Tenzo only nodded in response. “... So, why’d you stop by?” the silver-haired shinobi questioned. He cleared his throat before swiftly changing the subject. “Ah, right, I came to ask about the Chunin Exams on Lady Tsunade’s behalf.”

“Chunin Exams? For what?”

“Lady Tsunade has tasked me with gathering the confirmations of each team’s leader,” Tenzo explained. “And I’ve received confirmation from Team 3’s sensei. But I still need some confirmation from Team 8, Team 10 when they come back from their mission, and of course, your Team 7, Kakashi-senpai.”

He let out a sigh. “Official statement?”

Tenzo gave him a nod. “More or less.”

“Ah, I see…” Kakashi let out another sigh as his shoulders dropped. He straightened himself up and cleared his throat. “The Kakashi led team of Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, and Haruno Sakura… Under the name of Hatake Kakashi, I nominate the three for the Chunin Exams.” Same spiel as always, or maybe he got some words wrong. Nonetheless, same format but with different names.

It was enough for Tenzo apparently as he nodded. “Alright, that’s good…” he murmured. “I’d love to keep chatting, but I need to gather more confirmations.”

As Tenzo readied to disappear, Kakashi was quick to raise his hand to grab Tenzo’s attention. “Wait, Tenzo,” he called, “Just a quick question.”

“Yes?”

“Will you be around during the Chunin Exams?”

“Of course, why?”

Kakashi pursed his lips under his mask and his brows furrowed. “I have a feeling you’ll need to be there, Tenzo,” he asserted.

Tenzo didn’t need details; the look in Kakashi’s uncovered eye told him enough. “Understood… I’ll be sure to attend. I’ll let Lady Tsunade know,” he assured.

As he took a step to hop off, Tenzo stopped for a moment. “Oh yes, I nearly forgot…” he turned on his heel again to face Kakashi one last time. His hand shuffled around in his back pouch before he pulled out a scroll and tossed it to his superior. “New mission for Team Kakashi, assigned specifically from the Fifth herself.”

Kakashi caught the scroll and rotated it in his hand to eye down the seal. He sighed. No free time anymore.

With a grunt, Naruto collided with the ground, face digging into the ground as Kakashi swung him off his shoulders. And finally, that was it. Team 7 laid defeated before him. Sasuke laid stuck under a fallen tree, Sakura trembling on the dirt ground as she slowly tended to her wounds through medical ninjutsu, and Naruto had his face buried deep in the dirt, his shadow clones poofing away with clouds of smoke.

Kakashi sighed and lowered his guard finally. He frowned his brows as he thought back to the beginning days of their team. ‘I miss when a simple Genjutsu put all of them out of commission…’

His attention was brought to his blonde student behind him as the Genin groaned. Naruto growled and pushed himself up. “That’s it, Kakashi-sensei! Rematch! Right now!!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. “That ain’t fair at all!”

“Now, now, maybe another time, Naruto,” Kakashi denied with a small chuckle. He shifted over to Sakura who was pushing herself up off the ground. “Think you can get Sasuke?”

“Yes, Kakashi-sensei,” she nodded as she scurried off to her teammate.

He swung his open hand out and caught Naruto’s forehead in his palm. “Naruto, I told you we’ll have a rematch another day.”

Sakura pried the tree log off of Sasuke and after some medical ninjutsu, got Sasuke on his feet. With the three Genin settled, Kakashi let out a deep sigh. He had two announcements to make. He pondered which to state first.

“Well… To start this off, we have a mission today,” he finally stated, “and then, the Chunin Exams are also around the corner. If I’m not mistaken, you should be given enough time to squeeze in some additional training by the time we return.”

“The Chunin Exams? You’ve referred us again?” Sakura butted in.

“I’ve nominated you, yes. But you must be the ones to sign up.”

He reached into his pouch, pulled out the Exams registration sheets and tossed them to the three. “Feel free to sign them when you’re gathering supplies for the mission. Have your parents drop them off at the Hokage’s residence,” he instructed.

“About our mission, Kakashi,” Sasuke spoke up, “What is it?”

“Ah, right, our mission…” Kakashi hummed, bringing his hand to his chin. “Well, Suna has requested aid from Konoha shinobi. Apparently, one of their own S-ranked criminals is running about, poisoning their shinobi. Not only are we to aid them in capturing Sasori of the Red Sand but we’ll also need to help them cure the poison.”

Kakashi brought his eyes to Sakura. “We’ll need you to assist with finding that cure as well as aiding our team against the fight with Sasori.” Sakura nodded in response.

This would be the team’s second time taking a mission outside the Land of Fire so it was evident that the three Genin were excited but nervous lingered behind their thrilled expressions. Their first time out of the Land of Fire was their time in the Land of Waves and with that as their only experience, it was understandable to Kakashi.

“I’ll let you go to properly gather what you need,” Kakashi waved off his students. “Please don’t be too late.”

The three Genin nodded and Sasuke was the first to scurry off, heading off in the direction of the Uchiha district. Sakura was next upon the completion of patching up her blonde boyfriend. As Naruto turned on his heels, Kakashi called out, “Naruto.”

“Eh? Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto turned to his teacher. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “Be careful, Naruto. Both in mission and the Chunin Exams. You can’t let your anger overwhelm you,” he insisted.

“Try as you might, you cannot deny that seal is cracking, Naruto.”

[erable-writes]

Prucan Week Day #3: Moonlight Date

Day Three: Unconscious, Illusions, Intuition

    Honestly, Today was a good day for Gilbert. He got to sleep in as it was his day off, his little brother didn't yell at him for God-knows-what, he got to take the dogs to the park and play with them for a good hour, and as he was picking up lunch from his favourite cafe, an adorable little blond approached him shyly and asked him if he’d be interested in going out that night. Really, his day couldn't get much better. As Gilbert sat in front of the Television, watching football (Germany vs Switzerland, no contest) his phone suddenly buzzed. He grabbed at the couch a few times, trying to locate the device without actually turning to look (because he was so awesome he didn't need things like sight to get his phone. Suck it, Ludwig). After a full minute of useless grabbing, his hand connects with his phone, and he smirks in victory (which Ludwig doesn't see, but Gilbert makes sure to anyway, just in case Ludwig can sense it). Turning it on, he sees a message from the cute blond.

Hey, I got off work a little early. If you want, we can meet for coffee before we go out?

    Gilberts smirk widens by a noticeable fraction. Oh, tonight is going to be good. He's off the couch in a heartbeat, shrugging on his deep blue coat and pulling on his black gloves.

“Yo, Luddy, I’m goin’ out. Dunno when I’ll be back. Hold down the fort for me, ‘kay?”

    And before Ludwig can actually respond, he's out the door.

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

The cute blond, who is actually named Matthew, is somehow even cuter in prolonged dosages. He’s a nervous type, eager to please and horrified by even the slightest of inconveniences he may commit, making him the perfect type for friendly teasing. He likes sweets and animals and nature, and as he gets more and more nervous he slips into a light french accent, hiding behind his wavy flax-coloured hair, gazing through the tangles with enchanting violet eyes. Gilbert laughs at his partner's shyness, causing him to blush deep red and try to back further away.

In short, Matthew is condensed joy.

Gilbert takes satisfaction in every moment he spends with Matthew. Every smile is a prize, every laugh a treasure, and Gilbert realizes hes falling hard for someone he met only a few hours ago, but hey, love is blind, or something stupid and sappy like that. So Gilbert works to make Matthew just as happy as he is. He compliments his accent, which causes Matthew to balk slightly and blush, stuttering out some apology: apparently he didn't notice he’d changed accents. Gilbert tactfully covered Matthews unintentional slip up by using his limited knowledge of french to tell him how cute he was.

Matthews' small, surprised smile made having to swallow his pride worth it.

They spent an unknown amount of hours like that: sipping hot drinks and chatting with each other. It was bliss; Gilbert could talk, and Matthew would listen. Matthew laughed, and Gilbert felt warmth fill his heart. 

It was a good night.

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

“So, um,” Matthew starts, hesitates immediately, then steels himself with a long breath and ventures bravely on, “Would you, maybe, um, like to go… out?”

Gilbert blinks thoughtfully at this. Sure, they'd been out for the better part of the day already, with the sun dipping low under the horizon and the moon shining far overhead, but Matthew had been eluding to some greater plan all night. Even now, Matthew fidgeted back and forth, eager and nervous for an answer.

Gilbert smiled. God, he was too cute for this world. “Alright, lead the way, schatzi.”

Matthew instantly brightens, standing and ushering Gilbert closer. Gilbert pays the tab (because he can be a gentleman, suck it, Ludwig) and they're off. Matthew grabs Gilbert by the wrist, excitedly tugging him forward, and Gilbert is enamoured by his sudden energy. Matthew laughs airily as they walk.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night. You’re really gonna love this.”

They walk for at least twenty minutes. When Matthew finally slows, they stand on the edge of town, only a set of old, decommissioned train tracks stopping them from truly being out of city bounds. Gilbert looks around, trying to identify what's so great about this. An old trainyard doesn't really scream First Date Material to him, but maybe he's just old fashioned. Matthew turns to smile brightly at him, his eyes gleaming in the muted moonlight. Another insistent tug pulls Gilbert into a train car, where Matthew pats the ground with about as much force as his small frame can offer. Gilbert makes himself comfortable as Matthew himself sits by the door, peering out every few minutes and scanning the area. The train car is dusty, dark, desolate, and overall unpleasant, but Matthew still seems excited so Gilbert humours him. They wait like this for only ten minutes, chatting idly, before Matthew suddenly shushes him, peering out into the darkness once more. Now that their voices have died, Gilbert hears the crunch, crunch, crunch of someone approaching. Now his interest has truly peaked. What is happening now? Did Matthew enlist someone's help for this date? His question is answered when Matthew suddenly leans out of the train car, hands latching around whoever is outside. A startled yelp rings out before Matthew reels back in with his catch; Gilbert cannot see much, but the figure appears to be a young woman, who looks thoroughly confused and frazzled.

“What is-”

Is all she manages before there's a loud crack. Gilbert stares in horrible, wide-eyed disbelief. Matthew cradles the woman's head in his arms, acting like everything is fine and he didn't just snap her neck right in front of Gilbert's face. Matthew leans down, completely blocking her head from view, and Gilbert hears another snap as more bones break.

Somehow, Gilbert doesn’t vomit.

“What the fuck.” is the best he can manage, and honestly, its a miracle hes speaking in sentences and not screaming, and/or running as far way as he can get. Matthew looks back up at him, except it's not Mathew at all. It's a bestial figure, with long antlers akin to an elk, and skin the colour of the moon. His eyes are still purple, but there's no visible sclera, only glinting irises. 

“Is something wrong?”, Matthew asks, somehow managing to sound genuinely worried about Gilbert but not the dead women in his arms, “Do you not eat women?” 

“I- What the fuck, no, I dont eat-- what the fuck?” forget that thought about sentences. Gilbert is still impressed his lunch is in his stomach.

“Oh… would you rather her mind? I thought you’d eat flesh, but… we can share?”

    “What the fuck are you on? You can’t… eat people, thats fucking… you’re, you’re fucking sick, kid. What the fuck?”  

Matthew frowns. “Are you not… a demon?”

        “What? No, I'm not… you can't, why would you, demons aren't even real.”

“..Oh. Oh. I thought… with your eyes, and your… uh…”

Matthew trails off, looking almost guilty. Gilbert continues to stare at the dead body between them. Several tense seconds pass.

“Well”, Matthew finally begins, and Gilbert's eyes snap up to him, widening as he sees the displeased look plastered across Matthews face, “If you’re not supernatural, then I can’t allow you to know about this anymore.”

Gilbert doesn't have time to scream before Matthew descends upon him.

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

“...ert, Gilbert, wake up, you useless moron!”

    Gilbert groans as he slowly opens his eyes. He’s draped across the couch with his brother looming over him, looking about as angry as usual.

“I have work today, so you're in charge of the dogs. Do not forget to feed them, Aster needs to be given medication at 11 a.m, and Feliciano-”

“Did something happen last night?” Gilbert mumbles out, much to his brothers chagrin. He never did like being cut off.

“Your friend Matthew brought you home. Apparently you got so drunk you passed out and made a complete fool of yourself in front of everyone.”

Ludwig glanced at the clock, sighed, and turned towards the door.

“I have to leave now. Do not forget to feed my dogs.”

    Gilbert grunts in affirmation as the door slams. He tries very hard to remember anything about last night, but he's drawing blanks. The only thing he remembers is bright violet eyes against the pale moonlit sky. His phone suddenly vibrates in his pocket. Gilbert quickly pulls it out, turning on the little device. There's a new message from Matthew. 

Last night was really fun. Maybe we can go out again sometime?

Gilbert smiles a little. A night out with Matthew sounds harmless enough. ------------------- (reposted, now edited) A little longer than my last one. Really, I just wanted to write Canada as a demon. I also couldn't resist using ‘Misinterpretation’ from the reverse prompt.

[lyansi]

Dulce periculum

Summary: Kagome isn't too sure how she found herself in this position. She often tells herself not to take on too much, not to allow herself to be deluded, and to not involve herself unnecessarily in every issue she comes across.

But how could she not? It was in her very nature to be compassionate. And, it was because of this disposition that she found herself in the middle of the night, on a Friday no less, deeply consumed with the sweet taste of danger.

Author Notes: Although Day 4 is an exploration of the sin greed, I have actually decided to explore its virtue: charity/generosity. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Rumiko Takahashi is responsible for the Inuyasha series, I only lay claim on the story I have written.

The whispers of raindrops are the only sounds she hears as it thrums against her umbrella.

Pitter-patter.

Pitter-patter.

Pitter-patter.

Light sprinkles turn into a rhythmic beat as large droplets begin to splash on the parasol, against the sidewalk, and soak into her sneakers. Hopefully she can make it home before it soaks through to her socks. Pastel-pink lips part and blue eyes gaze over the lip of the umbrella, careful to avoid dripping rain onto herself. Street lights flicker to life with the setting sun. Higurashi Kagome sighs and closes her eyes, shivering underneath the too-big raincoat as a breeze passes.

Luckily, Miroku spared an extra umbrella and his raincoat for use— he insisted, in fact, to drive her home but Kagome was quite reluctant. She kept insisting that she preferred to walk the twenty minutes between the clinic and her house. That it was merely going to sprinkle. Anyway, he was leaving much earlier than she was and she still had much more medical paperwork to look over before calling it quits.

Early on during her undergraduate degree, Kagome began to volunteer at shelters geared towards at-risk youth. Although trained as a spiritualist and miko, where she  helped her grandfather at the family shrine her spare time, she was much more invested in the community outreach programs. The human-youkai war had ended a century ago and although the larger more industrial cities lived in peace, there was still dissent in many rural parts of Japan. Often times, skirmishes lead to orphaned youkai and hanyou in foster care.

Read on AO3

In the last year of university, she had begun to look for outreach opportunities that would better prepare her for medical school. At the same time, Miroku, a graduate student, was looking for volunteers to help with his community project. She wound up spending many weeknights and weekends shadowing alongside the spiritualistic physicians who gave medical attention to young youkai and hanyou.

After Kagome started medical school, his small community project became a thriving medical clinic and shelter for those same at-risk youth. Thankfully she was able to choose his clinic in her pediatric rotation for her medical training, and often where she found herself working late on Friday evenings.

It was only after a few more hours of intense scrutiny over her clerical task that she realized that the sun had begun to dip into the horizon as streaks of orange and pink began to paint the sky. By the time she cleaned up her desk, and slipped into the large raincoat, even the last rays of sun began to wane.

And, what would have been a normal humid September evening was threatened by thick, gray clouds drifting overhead. Although rain was typical during this year— the weather app made no notice of such dark looking clouds that had begun to roll in as she locked up the clinic.

Using one hand, the woman grips at the neck of her coat, checking to ensure the fasteners are secure. When satisfied, Kagome quickened her pace. The office was not too far off from her home luckily. All she had to do was turn the corner here, walk three blocks up the street and—

Upon turning the corner, Kagome’s steps began to falter.

Standing underneath the stream of a street lamp and without any type of cover from the rain, a tall man stands with his back towards her. He is deep in conversation with an unseen person. The rain soaks into his shirt, clinging against his muscular form. One sleeve is rolled to reveal bright blue lotus flowers, woven alongside a slithering golden snake that wraps around a tanned forearm. Hands, balled up at his side, look bruise and stained with blood, washing away as the rain soaks him. Black hair drips with water, coming loose from its plait as it hangs down the expanse of his back.

Kagome’s eyebrows come together in confusion and immediately she senses that something is wrong. The man possesses no discernible jaki, so he must not be a demon, but he did not seem to hold reiki either leaning to the fact that he was just a regular human man.

It was his stance, however, that put her on edge. With feet spread wide and fists balled at his side, it was more than enough to make her shift with unease. She couldn’t see his face but knew for certain it must be contorted in anger. Feelings of anxiety begin to bubble in the pit of her stomach. Should she turn around to take a different path home?

Before she could make that decision, the man turns to her. She stares back in shock. Blue, angry eyes glare at her before Kagome notices it. Etched across his forehead in purple is a diamond star. A mark she recognizes belonging to a distinct fraction of criminals: the yakuza.

The man turns back down the passage, making a gesture as he does so. Kagome watches as he walks in the opposite direction casually and, not even moments later, another man emerges from the alley.

Like the first man, two vertical stripes emerge from the bottom of his chin and extends to his eyebrow line. In the middle of his forehead, a pointed mark was stamped. Unlike the first man whose hair fell to his waist, this man was completely bald. Beady eyes stared at her for a moment before he, too, walked away in nonchalance.

The young medical student lets out a breath she had not even been aware of holding. Kagome eyes the alleyway wearily. What exactly were those two men doing there? Maybe she should just turn around and find a different road back home after all.

Instead, she finds herself taking steps closer and closer to the entrance of the alley. At that moment the sky decides to opens up entirely and, what began as a slow drizzle, picks up speed and force. As she approaches the entrance, her heart begins to hammer against her ribs, lub-dub lub-dub lub-dub, as she remembers the stain of blood bright against tanned skin.

As Kagome peers with hesitance into the alley, her shoulders fall away from her chin. On the left side, the building wraps around with the entrance facing into the alleyway. Standing across the building were color coded trash receptacles. Nothing unusual stood out: she misinterpreted the scene for something more nefarious. It was, after all, a completely normal alleyway. Including the figure leaning precariously on the opposite end of the receptacles.

A soft gasp leaves Kagome’s lips and she rushes forward, the umbrella falling from her hands, forgotten. Soaked to the bone, a man is thrown carelessly against one side of the bin. Dark hair forms a curtain around his frame, matted against his skin and clothes. From her angle, she is unable to see his face.

“Hey! You— are you okay?” Kagome reaches out carefully and tries to rouse him. With his head tilted back in an ungraceful and seemingly uncomfortable way, Kagome can only assume him to be unconscious. She blinks away the suddenly onslaught of rain, wiping at her face as it presses her fringe to her forehead.

When Kagome presses a hand against his chest to check for a heartbeat, she feels a sudden warmth. Quickly pulling back her hand, Kagome is astonished to see her hand dripping in bright, red blood. He was injured!

“Oh no, oh no…” Kagome looks behind her. She is certain that no one would be walking around in this weather. Furthermore, walking in a residential area, there were few businesses that are still open this late. Biting her lip, Kagome decides the best solution for this situation is to get him to a place that could help.

“Hey— I’m going to help you… if you don’t want me to, you have to tell me now.” She bites her lip, knowing she is making a useless gesture by asking for permission. Even if he were conscious enough to deny her assistance, she would still insist upon it. She was compassionate, after all.

When the man makes no response, Kagome slides an arm underneath his back and works to lift him up. The sudden movement causes the man to rasp for breath, his head and chest leaning forward against her shoulder.

Using her strength, she pulls the two of them straight up. The man is definitely much taller than Kagome and she has to lean the both of them against one another.

For a moment, she wonders at the repercussions of taking this stranger to a hospital. Obvious reasons plainly indicate that taking him to the hospital might be the better place however, it may lead to some unsavory questions and refusal to assist in gang violence (because, honestly, what other situation could this be?).

Anyway, if he didn’t have his health insurance card on him, Kagome feared she would be stuck with the cost of his medical care. While she was generous to a fault, paying for a strangers very expensive medical bill helps to separate the line between generous and stupidity.

So, she makes the decision to take him back home with her. It didn’t seem like he had a weapon on him and, regardless, he was too injured to even think of hurting her. She makes a mental note to call Miroku in the morning, already knowing the firm lecture she will receive.

Thankfully, she works in a high-volume hospital and had come across her fair share of gang-related victims. This would not be the first time she patched up an injured person. And, at least it was a human this time. Some of the demons and hanyou she worked with were much harder to care for alone due to their naturally aggressive temperament when under threat.

She isn’t sure how she did it, but somehow she was able to make the trek back home. Kagome is surprised by her own strength to make it up the steps to the shrine, over the courtyard, and into the house. The rain was quick to pass through and she was able to avoid slipping through puddles.

Upon arriving, she lays him on the dining table, grateful that one of the entrances opens into the kitchen.

“Mama!” Kagome calls out, exhausted and soaked.

No answer.

“Mama? Oji-chan?” Kagome calls out again, frowning. Were they not home?

“Souta?”

Still— no response.

She walks around the kitchen as if to look for some clue. Finally, she finds it: taped on fridge door is a note written in her younger brothers handwriting (Oji-chan wanted to visit the Gero Onsen Town in Gifu. We will be back on Sunday. Mom says to lock up!).

“Great, just great Kagome.” She mumbles to herself, eyeing the unconscious man. His breathing has become harsher, and a sweat is beginning to break out across his forehead. At least she wouldn’t have to explain to her family why she brought an unconscious, wounded man back home.

With measured speed and accuracy, Kagome begins to move around the kitchen. She grabs scissors from a drawer, several clean dishrags, and fills a bowl with water. She rummages through several cabinets before finding her emergency first aid kit. Immediately, she begins working.

The first thing she does is to remove his shirt with care. Seeing how she was unable to determine where his wound was or the extent of it, cutting his shirt down the middle was her best option. Once the cloth gives her an unobstructed view of his chest, Kagome dips the dishcloth in the water and begins to dab away blood.

Had the situation been different, Kagome would have bashfully reveled in the expanse of skin. Whoever this man was, he definitely cared for his fitness. Muscles pulled taut at his abdomen and his Adonis belt dipping below the waistband of his pants.

Once Kagome cleans the blood away, it becomes easy to see the knife puncture below his false rib. Maybe due to the fact that she had put unintended pressure on the wound dragging him down the street, it was not bleeding as heavily as it could have been.

It definitely is not as deep as she originally thought and the location is not nearly as severe as some of the other injuries she had cared for in the past. With rest and care, she was certain this man would make a proper recovery.

What shocks her more than the knife wound is the number of bruises that mar his body. Lesions of different sizes and hues of purple smear themselves up his chest. She isn’t sure what warranted such an attack on this man but she was sympathetic to his pain.

Kagome works to dump the soiled water and the rags into the kitchen sink. Filling a saucepan with water, Kagome places it on the stovetop to boil. She scrubs her hands and underneath her fingernails clean and moves to remove the suture kit.

As the water boils, Kagome throws her instruments into the water. After a few minutes and using a strainer, she removes them and places them on a napkin. Kagome irrigates his wound with fresh water, before she begins to suture up him up. While working, Kagome is unaware of the passage of time. She isn’t sure whether the stitching takes her ten minutes, or an hour. When she is finally done, she throws herself down into one of the chairs closest to her and stares at him.

Reaching out, the young woman pushes away hair from his face. For the first time, Kagome actually takes a good look at the man.

Thick, dark eyebrows frame over heavy-lidded eyes. A prominent, straight nose protrudes from the middle of his face. The young woman’s eyes follow down towards full lips and a thick, muscular neck. Had it not been for the current situation, Kagome would have blushed at staring at him with such earnest.

At the top of his chest, Kagome realizes that a tattoo adorns his skin. The ink wraps around his pectoral, upper shoulder, and down his bicep. She leans closer to examine the design. Along the upper part of his chest protrudes the figure of a large canine, as if emerging celestially from the heavens itself. Golden eyes with flecks of red and yellow stare back at her. The dog vanishes in hues and shades of blues clouds that trail down his shoulder and along his bicep. Cherry blossom petals cascade around his elbow.

Reaching out a hand, Kagome traces the canine figure along his bicep. She fingers the clouds along his shoulder, and follows the path of the sakura petals. For the briefest of moments she questions if she did the right thing to care for his wound.

Exhaustion answers her, instead.

Getting up, Kagome begins to clean. She throws dirty rags in the sink, she wipes down dried blood from the table and counters. After cleaning and putting away her first aid kit, she checks the time on her phone. The backlight flashes back at her, 12:37 AM. Sunrise would be happening soon enough and she was expected to wake early in the absence of her grandfather and brother to start Shrine duties.

Should she leave him on the table then? She isn’t sure she has the strength to take him up the stairs to one of the rooms. “He may be more comfortable on the futon, though…” Kagome mumbles to herself. She slides open the shoji that separates the kitchen from the living room.

The young woman rummages through the cabinet space in the living room and pulls out the spare futon. She pushes the chabudai out of the way and throws the zabuton to the side before walking back into the kitchen.

Pulling the man off of the table, Kagome is careful to not tear open his stitches. Already exhausted between her long day and now treating this stranger, she relies heavy on the wall for support as she makes her way into the next room.

She successfully avoids the chabudai and manages to all but drop him on the futon. For the first time, a weak groan emerges from him.“Oh— shoot! Sorry, sorry.” She kneels next to his prone figure, checking over his stitches.

Satisfied with her results, and fatigued from the day, she decides to lay down on the tatami next to him.

She’ll lay only for a minute.

Kagome sighs and closes her eyes.

One minute to recharge herself.

Her breathing begins to slow.

Only a few more seconds and she’ll get up to go to her room.

Kagome is sure she must have fallen asleep as she imagines a pulling under her neck and below her knees. Her neck tilts to the side as she feels herself pressed against a firm torso. Her arm falls away from her chest and, although she should expect it to feel the tatami underneath her, she does not. In fact, she feels nothing as it dangles.

As if someone were carrying her.

Kagome startles awake, her entire upper half jumping up from her horizontal position. Heart hammering in her chest, it takes her a moment to clear away the sleep and confusion. She immediately recognizes her desk, the curtains, and her bed. Her comforter falls away from her, thrown back upon her sudden wakefulness.

When did she get in her room?

Kagome thinks to the night before: the tattooed thugs, the injured man. At some point she must have fallen asleep and awoken again to climb the steps to her room. She decides she should go check on the man.

As she begins to spring out of bed, Kagome sees her curtains flutter. Frowning, she realizes that for whatever reason, she decided to open the window. She approaches it and shuts the window tight, pulling the curtains open. The sun is beginning to peak over the horizon.

Kagome turns and begins to make her way downstairs. She decides to check on the man before she changes into her miko uniform. Although her family’s shrine has served the area for five centuries, it was not a huge tourist attraction. Usually, on a weekend, there would only be one couple who bothered to come before mid-morning. This gave her ample time to check on the man, change, and even fix herself (and him) some breakfast foods.

As she makes it to the last landing of the stairs, she full expects to see a dark-haired man laying down on the futon. What she does not expect to see, is an empty futon when her fingers flip on the living room light.

If he was awake and moving, where could he be?

Oh man, bringing him back home was a bad idea. What was she thinking?! Her family was definitely going to come home to see her mangled body thrown on the tatami. How could she be so selfish? And here she thought she was acting with genorisity.

Kagome swallows, glancing behind her, as if expecting to see him standing on the stairs above, like some axe-wielding murderer. He isn’t though. Nor is he in the kitchen or any of the rooms, or bathrooms.

“Hello? Hello! Come out please!” She calls out as she moves around the house from room to room. The man isn’t there. Nothing seems to be out of sorts either. Hands on her hips, Kagome huffs and glares at the empty futon.

After searching the house twice, she decides to give up. Either he was hiding too well for her to find (not that there were even any hiding places in the house) or he got up and left.

No note or anything! Not even a thank-you!

As she stares down the empty futon, Kagome notices a thin, string-like object thrown across the bed. Frowning, she kneels to get a much better look, noticing the droplets of blood that stand out against the cot. Frowning, she immediately recognizes the suture thread stitched into his skin hours before.

Did he rip out his stitches? How could he be so ungrateful and do something so careless! He must be bleeding all over again— wherever he was. In the end though, Kagome recognizes that there was nothing she could do. For whatever reason, this man decided to refused to accept her help. She hopes he would seek medical attention elsewhere, if needed.

But Kagome knew she couldn’t allow such thoughts to plague her. Shaking her head back and forth, she balls her fist. By doing so, her fingers tangle in long, silverly threads of hair. She pulls her hand up to examine the fine tresses, eyebrows furrowing together.

Was her Ojii-chan using this futon to sleep in? It would make sense, but the hair seems way too long. As she lengthens the threads to asses the size, she knew that it could not have been her grandfathers hair. With a span this long, it would fall down to her knees. Who else could have such long, thin silvery hair?

Was it possible that her grandfather had a lady friend?

Shuddering, Kagome balked at the thought of her grandfather being that friendly. It definitely did not fit his personality. Anyway, her mother was always home— the older woman would have mentioned it to her that he had someone stay the night. Maybe she should ask them about it when they returned— it’s possible that her mother was sworn to secrecy with this matter.

Chuckling to herself, Kagome begins to fold the futon. She returns it back to the closet and begins to straighten the room. Once she decides the living room is clean, thrown the dirted rags in the wash, and wipes and disinfects the kitchen, Kagome begins to prepare for her day, suddenly more excited than normal.

She couldn’t wait to find out exactly how her grandfather would react to his secret being revealed.

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 4 Part 2

Here is another piece of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

‘Life,’ Luz mused, ‘is utterly random.’ She slowly turned her latest find over in her hands. An Archive Terminal, a portable link to the information distribution magic system known as Archive. How Eda got her hands on it, Luz didn’t know, but it was an amazing boon for sure. Somehow, the device had full connection, accessing the open source information of Archive; admittedly, this should’ve been impossible in a normal Terminal, which meant she probably had a black-market unit.

Luz smirked. This wasn’t the first time she had handled illegally modified gear, and it probably wouldn’t be the last; the real issue was keeping this thing in good shape. Black-Chapter Magic Items, tools that had been deliberately modified to make illegal operations easier, were typically made to break down easily once they served their purpose or if they became separated from their owners. In the end, she was fairly sure that wouldn’t be a problem, and she just got one of the best teaching aids she could possibly get in her current situation.

Her face shifted into suspicion. On second thought, it shouldn’t be possible for her to have gotten this in her current situation. Luz’s luck had been odd ever since she’d arrived on the Isles, and strange coincidences were starting to pile up, including the appearance of this Terminal. Still, there wasn’t much she could do about the odd goings on around this place, and she couldn’t afford to turn away something this useful, shady circumstances or not.

“LUZ!” King’s voice rang out, jarring Luz from her thoughts. Taking quick stock of her supplies for when she went in for work, Luz sighed, preparing to face the lovable tyrant-wannabe.

“King, whatever this is better be important, please.” Luz groaned, making her way through the door, stuffing the Terminal into the pocket of her jacket. “I really don’t think Eda will be too happy about you interrupting her-” She cut off, eyes widening at the sight before her. Boscha, the bratty girl who had tried, and failed, to give her grief on her first outing into Bonesburough, witnessed her showdown against that creep Adegast, and newly minted Devil Slayer, was currently sitting on the couch, King pacing next to her, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “-Sleep.” Luz numbly finished.

“Oh, so you live here.” Boscha said blandly. Luz suppressed a shudder, the girl was far worse off than she had feared; it was like she had no life in her at all, as if she had nothing other than a desire to keep going. Or maybe she was misinterpreting this? Either way, it was creepy. Boscha slowly pulled herself to her feet, rolling her neck. “Sorry you’ve got to see me like this.” She said, gesturing at her attire. It was only then that Luz realized that the girl’s clothing was coated in holes and damaged patches, some areas even having the frayed look of burned fabric, yet also damp. Oddly enough, or maybe not if Luz’s suspicions were correct, Boscha herself looked completely fine, if not a bit drenched by the now raging rainstorm outside.

“Yeah,” Luz drawled. “Funny how things like this just happen, you know?” She plopped herself down in the nearby chair, gazing at the potentially dangerous girl in front of her. “So, I hate to be rude for once, but why are you here, exactly?”

Boscha gave a slight lift to her shoulder, a faint blush to her face. “I was practicing in the woods, trying to get myself back to normal, when I spotted the clouds forming.” She looked down at her clothes, a slightly perplexed look on her face. “I was prepared to track down a cave or something after I realized I had no way of getting to shelter in time, when I spotted this place.” She gestured to the house surrounding them, both tuning out Hooty’s preening from outside at the attention. “And I rushed for the barrier, hoping I could get through. I was willing to beg for shelter if I needed to, but…” she looked down at her hands, sliding them over her face in mystified wonder. “The rain caught up to me.” She gave Luz a critical look. “How, exactly, am I not a boiled up husk right now? Just what exactly did you do to me?” She finished, a hint of genuine emotion entering her voice; fear. 

“You mean besides saving your life?” Luz asked dryly. Her face shifted into a look of consideration. “To be honest, I’m not sure how much I can tell you.” She held up a hand, holding off any protests. “But that’s mostly because this isn’t a usual situation by any means. Usually implanting a Lacrima will just grant you a boost to whatever magic the Lacrima is based off of. End of story, close the book and all that.” Her eyes snapped to Boscha, a serious look on her face. “However. This isn’t the usual circumstance for something like this, especially not the type of Lacrima you got implanted into you.”

Boscha made a confused noise. “You keep using that word, Lacrima. What even is that?”

Luz snorted. “It’s the proper term for that magic crystal you snagged that night I fought Adegast. Or, more accurately, it’s the proper term for crystals like it; raw magic condensed into the form of a crystal, and chock-full to the brim with power.” A worried grin stretched across Luz’s face. “If I’m being honest, the fact that you have that thing stuck inside you now is honestly pretty terrifying, but it was either that or let you die, not to mention the fact you’d have taken the school with you.”

Boscha slowly nodded, processing the information. “Okay, so that thing was pure magic. What kind?” She folded her arms over her chest. “I’d like to think that I have a right to know just what was messing with my head.” She left out her worry about it happening again.

“Heh, fair enough.” Luz agreed. Her hand idly reached for one of the spare sheets of paper she had left lying around, gripping it. “But first, you hungry?”

The question surprised Boscha, but she nodded, not wanting to pass up free food if it was being offered. Of course, she expected it to be actual food, not… a rolled up piece of paper that had been set on fire.

She turned to Luz. “Are you serious?”

“Uh huh!” Luz glibly stated.

“There is no way I’m going-” Boscha started, only to cut off as a heady scent filled her nose. She slowly turned back to the offered paper, nose twitching. “Going to…” She trailed off, eyes glazing, a line of drool starting to dribble down from her mouth. With a blank look in her eyes, Boscha’s jaw widened… and clamped down on the flame. 

With a blissful sigh, she contentedly chewed on the flame, and there was no mistaking she was eating FIRE, seeing as she hadn’t even touched the paper the flame was holding onto. As she chewed, a rich, earthy flavor, like the best vegetable soup she’d ever tasted, filled her mouth. As she slowly swallowed the flame, a look of bliss, the kind that only came from good food, crossed her face… only to switch to dumbfounded shock as she started to process her own actions.

Turning a baffled look to Luz, who was grinning like the cat that got the canary, Boscha tentatively asked. “Did I just eat fire?” At Luz’s slow, grinning nod, Boscha gave a groan, cupping her face in her hands. “What did that thing do to me?”

Luz’s grin faded. “Well, for starters, it turned you into a Devil Slayer, the Flame Devil Slayer from what I can tell.” As Boscha whipped her head up in shock, Luz continued. “Basically, Slayers are mages whose magic is specifically designed to combat and harm specific forms of beings that are ordinarily beyond the abilities of Human Mages to combat.” She leveled a look of warning towards Boscha, who became still under the intense stare. “As a Slayer, you are stronger, faster, more durable, and have an instinctive bond with the element or concept your magic manifests as, and can absorb sources of your element to replenish your magic and as a substitute for food.”

Luz crossed her arms, and leaned back. She just had to wait and see how the girl was going to respond to what had just been dropped on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed King walking off, grumbling about not being able to concentrate. Aw well, his loss.

Boscha stood in place, utterly still. If what the human was saying was true, it basically meant her goal had just been radically changed. Before, she was just trying to get herself to a point where she didn’t have to worry about losing it and killing someone, and gaining control of her magic again was the first step to that. But now, what was the point? The way the human said it, she was basically a Demon-Killing weapon. People could never be safe around her entirely, not here, not in the Demon Realms, and certainly not on the Boiling Isles.

Whether this human realized it or not, her actions had irrevocably changed Boscha’s future. Boscha grit her teeth, temper rising from the cool numbness that clouded her mind so easily ever since that fight she had at the school. Why. Why was this happening? Was she really so awful that something like this was necessary!? As her thoughts started to spiral, Boscha’s fists sparked into flames.

“What kind of crap is this?” She muttered, drawing a confused look from her host, the human cocking her head in bewilderment. “First, I lost control and put a bunch of people in the healer’s offices, then I burned Skara, and now I gained some kind of crazy Human Magic that’s totally wrecked my control!?” 

Her voice was growing hysterical, a frantic edge filling it. “By the Titan, I get it, I’m garbage, a worthless nobody who thought she was bigger than she was, but why is this happening?” She collapsed back into her seat, energy draining out of her, her emotions pouring out in a haze of angry tears. “What am I going to do with myself now?” She looked at her hands, the memories of each and every demon she had brutalized over that four day haze coming to the forefront.

A clinking sound drew her attention. She looked up, seeing the human, Luz. She had set a glass of water in front of her. “So, are you done with your little pity party?” Luz asked, giving Boscha a look of sardonic amusement.

Boscha’s temper flared. “What was that?” She bit out.

“You. Having a pity party.” Luz bluntly stated. “Because that’s basically what’s going on.”

Boscha shot to her feet, flames bursting in her hands. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through! I’ve lost almost everything! My friends, my social life, my world view… EVERYTHING!!” She shouted.

“Yadda yadda yadda, I’m in pain and want to take it out on someone.” Luz deadpanned. “Got it.” With a furious shout, Boscha lashed out with her flames, blood red light flaring, only for Luz to catch her arm and lock it to the side, any showing the slightest hints of strain. She raised an eyebrow. “Cute.” Lightly pushing Boscha back into her seat, Luz got in close. “You aren’t the only person who’s got issues in the world, you know? The way you feel is totally valid of course, but acting as if you’ve got nothing left helps no one, especially yourself.”

Boscha snorted. “What could you possibly know about what I’m going through?” She slammed a hand down on the table. “I hurt people, I hurt my best friend! And to make it all just a little bit worse, it turned out I was going to explode, and the only thing that could prevent it ended up costing me my magical ability. I have to learn everything from scratch now!!” She turned slightly teary eyes towards Luz. “How could you possibly understand what’s happening to me?”

Luz sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to be pretty. Working her sleeve up, she showed her upper arm to Boscha, who reeled back, prompting a bitter grin from Luz. The sight of the scarred tissue running from her shoulder to her elbow was certainly stomach turning to look at. “I am intimately familiar with losing control of your magic, and the type of injuries, physical and emotional, that can cause.” Once she was sure Boscha had gotten as good a luck as she needed, Luz rolled her sleeve down, placing both hands on the sides of her face, staring at the girl. 

“You are still alive.” She said simply. “Is this a massive change for you, something that you had no control over? Absolutely. But you are still alive, and that means you can change it. You may never get back what you lost, but you can make a new life for yourself, forge new connections and new bonds with others. You have to start over with your magic? Fine, so you have to start from scratch. That just means you can relearn it, and maybe learn something new.” She gently placed Boscha’s shaking hands between her own. “I said before that I would be willing to help you with making the world make sense again. That offer is still on the table. Just let me help you, okay?”

That fateful confrontation with Skara flashed through Boscha’s mind again. Tears pricked at her eyes. “You're right.” She slowly nodded. “I can’t give up just because I got some news I wasn’t expecting. This is a setback, not the end of the world.” She slapped her cheeks. “Gah, I can’t believe I let myself get stuck in my head like that! So embarrassing.”

Luz chuckled. “Hey, it could be worse.”

“How so?” Boscha dryly asked, still reeling from how much her moods had shifted over this conversation.

“You could’ve said all that in public.” Luz grinned impishly.

Boscha blinked, before paling. “Yeah, that would’ve been way worse.” While she didn’t care about social standing and jockeying as much anymore, she still had enough self-respect and pride not to be indifferent to public embarrassment.

Luz stood, stretching herself out. “Well, now that we’ve got that bit of awkwardness out of the way, do you have any more questions?” 

“Just two.” Boscha replied, holding up two fingers in response. “Firstly, how did I manage not to get burned by the rain, and secondly, do you think you could help me get my magic under control?” She said her second request with a note of desperation. She really wanted this issue with her control to be done with.

“To the first, as a Flame-Element Slayer, the amount of heat needed to hurt you is so much more than the heat in the rain that it basically instantly cools on contact. No more issues with Boiling Rain for you, right?” Luz grinned at Boscha’s look of relish at the thought of not having to worry about one of the Isles’ most common and annoying forms of weather, before her smile gained a slightly sadistic edge. “And to the second, sure! Of course I can train you. No problem at  all.” She chuckled. Boscha had the feeling she may be in danger at that moment.

[elmidol]

Error: Program Not Found - Ten

Summary:  You are in charge of programming the droids that work most closely with both General Hux and Kylo Ren. Unbeknownst to you, each of these two men have it in their heads that your relationship extends beyond the workplace. This causes things to escalate quickly when your two apparently secret boyfriends compare notes on their respective partner who is far too similar for their liking.

Read on AO3 

“Mixed feelings, like mixed drinks, are a confusion to the soul.” - George Carman

Ten: Confusion

 Aside from droids, you were particularly fond of spending time with a rather specific furry individual that sauntered up to you with a flick of her tail. You grinned without looking up from the datapad you had been working with. The latest testrun for the TIE droid had gone smoothly though it was not quite ready for Millicent to be present while it was in the room. Her owner was set to arrive in a quarter of an hour. That was a meeting you were continuously preparing yourself for. You had not spent any alone time with either Kylo Ren or General Hux since the incident in the training room. The presentation for the project was looming with its date set. Eddard had been with you much of the past few days, although he was currently wrapped up in another assignment and thus could not be there with you at the moment. Aelin, too, was working on a different project. You had half a shift this cycle and the time to clock out was fast approaching.

 You extended a hand towards Millicent, who brushed her head against the tips of your fingers. TeeArr was running tests with the MSE droid that you had decided to take under your wing following its malfunction. Other personnel did not want to touch it beyond playing their role in repairs. You were quite happy with this arrangement. Millicent purred more loudly whilst kneading the ground under her paws. You scratched her ear, prompting her to lean her head more firmly against your hand.

 With a rather loud sigh, you set aside the datapad and laid down on your back. Your knees were bent, arms stretched above your head. Millicent climbed atop your stomach and began to knead that area in the same way that she had the floor. Her claws dipped into the material of your uniform but did not dig into your flesh. She watched your face between closing her eyes and offering quiet meows of delight. General Hux had spent less time with her this week than the previous. Work was getting in the way. You wanted to finish the TIE project more as you observed this sweet feline. No one deserved to be so lonely.

 “I wonder if TeeArr would enjoy visiting you.” It was not the same as having her owner with her, but it was something more than what she was getting, right? You cupped her head with both of your hands. “You are so sweet.”

 The door to the room shifted open as Millicent was hunkering down into a lying position. She tensed, her claws once more biting into your shirt, and sprang upwards the next moment. You released an oof as she used your stomach to spring forward. Her reaction alone was enough to inform you of the identity of the entrant. His voice merely confirmed things when he greeted you by name. You sat up and started to rise, pausing only when General Hux held up a hand. You stared at the palm. Next you looked past it at his face. Millicent brushed against him, some of her fur clinging to the legs of his pants. He would have to use the lint brush that was by the door when he left to return to work.

 In the meanwhile, he was unconcerned with the ginger strands that stood out in great contrast to the black of his uniform. General Hux stepped around Millicent to get closer to you. She was undeterred, following along after him and standing on her hind legs when he squatted in front of you. You swallowed thickly. It was strange to him in this position, though it was one you would have expected from Kylo Ren. Perhaps that was precisely why it was more strange to you. General Hux was a rigid man. He prided himself on maintaining appearances. To squat like this, it could be viewed as unbecoming, namely given the fact that he was in uniform--but when was he not?

 “Is it disagreeable for you to work alongside me?” he asked. The question caught you off guard, which meant that you did not have an immediate answer for it. You studied Millicent instead. She headbutted General Hux’s arm, tapped it with her paw, headbutted him again. He reached over to stroke her head with his other hand. His fingers curved under her chin. “Should proximity become an issue, I will see to it that other arrangements are made.”

 His words themselves were not surprising to you. He had responded to the message you had sent him questioning what had led him to believe that the pair of you had been in a relationship. Your reply to that? A simple Thank you and nothing more. You had not wanted to leave him hanging by giving no response to the message, and your intention had been to follow that up with something more after you had had time to process his explanation. Kylo Ren’s kisses complicated that. The reminder of how intimate it had been, for General Hux, to invite you to his quarters as he had, that complicated it as well. You had taken for granted that he did not trust so easily.

 “I do not feel it is an issue,” you said. He grunted in response. It was difficult to tell if it was skepticism that brought this out of him. Or disagreement; mayhaps he wanted you to claim that it was an issue because it was one for him. His message had outlined your comfortability in his presence and how you had spoken in ways that had been more casual than a professional relationship entailed. On more than a single occasion General Hux had asked if you would enjoy joining him for a meal. You had misconstrued that as being strictly amongst co-workers. Not an invitation to a more intimate relationship. You had not stopped to ask his feelings on the matter, and you were not going to make that same mistake. “Is it awkward for you?”

 His hand paused, fingers no longer stroking along Millicent’s chin. She rubbed her head back and forth to force the connection then lightly nipped the tip of his finger. “Your avoidance is, yes.” Fair enough. “It offered the impression that you not only feel differently, you are uncomfortable with my inter...misinterpretations of our relationship.”

 “I mean. In a way I am uncomfortable with it, but not because it is you or that I am not flattered you view me in such a light.” You sputtered near the end, your mind catching up to your mouth. General Hux tilted his head to one side. His fingers resumed their movement, stroking Millicent. You pinched the bridge of your nose. Counted in your head to twelve while ticking off aspects of TeeArr’s programming that you would be presenting for the project. Work helped to calm you in the face of personal life. “The two of you being more open about flirting with me has changed things.”

 General Hux removed his hand from Millicent and slipped two fingers under your chin instead. He tilted your head so that you were meeting him eye to eye. You waited for him to kiss you just as Kylo Ren had. Waited as his face drew nearer to yours. His mouth, those soft lips caressing yours and sending a tingling sensation down your spine. It clicked only as you kissed him that you had moved closer, not him. He did not push you away, however, and instead moved his hand so that he cupped your cheek.You leaned into his touch while kissing him again. Felt his tongue shift along your lips, move with yours. You could taste the tarine tea he had recently drank.

 A pitched meow! made you jump in place, startling you out of the moment. You looked at Millicent, who was quickly picked up by General Hux. He tucked her into his lap then kissed you again. You sighed at the feel of him. Grabbed for his shoulders, wound your arms behind his neck. Your fingers danced along his hair, which was softer than it had looked. Though kept in place with product, it yielded under the weight of your touch. He had a sort of cinnamon smell to him. It would not be unsurprising if you learned that he added some to his tea. You dug your fingers into his hair without caring if you messed it up. In truth, you wanted to see him in a more relaxed state, with his hair out of place. Wanted to catch a glimpse of vulnerability that you would have in the past missed.

 “Changed things?” he asked against your lips as the two of you parted for air.

 You pulled backwards and ran a hand along the top of your head. It had been less complicated for you to work with these men when you had been oblivious to their feelings as well as your own. The craving that you had for human touch spiked each time that you were with them now. You wracked your brain in an attempt to discover the best way to explain this to him. It was not easy when you had to admit budding feelings for not only him but Kylo Ren as well. The connection you felt with each was different even where there were similarities.

 General Hux scooped Millicent up into his arms and cradled her against his chest. More of her fur clung to his uniform, and at such a rate that you wondered how often he had to use a lint brush.

 “My function here in the First Order is to provide superior programming and droids that assist in fulfilling tasks to further Order’s goals.” You were using your hands to speak, gesturing with both of them in a downwards direction as though you were cutting into some invisible object or else sectioning off multiple items. “Prior to the revelation that you both believed we were in a relationship, I was capable of maintaining complete focus on my work.” Another chopping motion then swiping your left hand away from the right. “The revelation has resulted in gossip that has, in some respects, died down or else deviated enough from truth that I can ignore it. That being said, the flirtatious behaviors, toned down though they may be, from you and Kylo Ren are making it quite clear that I was the rumored ‘cheating significant other’.

 “That alone poses a distraction from my work, namely where I am completing projects with others more interested in gossip than fulfilling their tasks. On top of that, in terms of personal life, I…” You paused to allow yourself time to think. How to word this? You did not want to reject them completely. You could not use the argument that this was not in your programming. Kylo Ren had refuted that far too easily, and you were under no misconception that General Hux would be any less eloquent in his disagreement. “My personal life should not interfere with my work life. The two of you are my superiors. Yet I am not unaffected by the flirting.” His lips quirked to the side. “I respect both of you.”

 “And you are attracted to both of us as well.” It was somehow easier to hear it come from him instead of spilling from your mouth. To confess it with your voice was a different sort of acceptance. “Your projects will not be accepted or rejected based on who you flirt with.”

 You snorted at that. It was not how politics worked, and the First Order was riddled with politics. This was a political war! The intention behind his words was what kept you from verbally countering him. He wanted you to feel that your work was valued based on its own merit. Life, however, did not consistently follow these views. You did not want to be forced to deal with the further complications that would arise should you enter a relationship with either General Hux or Kylo Ren. It did not matter how right their lips felt against yours.

 “A droid should only have a single Master,” you said, the words slipping off your tongue more quickly than you had intended.

 General Hux stood and stared down at you. Millicent curled into the crook of his arm, her eyes closed as she purred louder and louder when he stroked her fur. You returned his gaze. He was not moving to speak nor was he walking towards the door. He pet Millicent from head to mid back then returned his hand to her head again. It clicked that he was not following with your analogy. You had not been trying to insinuate that you were a droid, despite all your talks of programming. Nor that you would refer to a romantic partner as Master--well, most likely not. Rolling your eyes, you stood as well and stretched your arms behind your back whilst huffing out a sigh and shaking your head.

 Millicent rolled part way onto her side, and General Hux tapped the silver identification tag that was affixed to her collar. Your attention dropped down to the accessory. That was another take on one being a master. You ran your fingers back and forth on your throat thrice before realizing what you were doing. Dropping the limb, you turned your face away so that you did not have to see General Hux’s amused smirk.

 “Master,” he repeated. Stars, you were ill equipped for social situations. He reached for the collar of your shirt, tugging at it so that it was stretched in place. His fingers swerved upwards to toy with the area of flesh that you had previously touched. “Hmm.” He leaned forward, and you remained perfectly still, your legs locking in place. It was a wonder that you did not sway or pitch forward. You held your breath in anticipation of what was to come. Millicent’s fur clung to your shirt. You felt her roll in General Hux’s arm and press her paws to your chest. General Hux flicked his tongue along your throat before he sealed his lips around the moistened area. You gasped, tilted back your head to allow him better access.

 Teeth grazed the surface without pressure being added. You waited for it, though, to be bitten. For him to nip at your flesh. Instead he flattened his tongue there. You pressed closer, Millicent digging her claws into your shirt. You could feel them on your skin. Sharp and threatening to draw out tiny droplets of blood. General Hux puckered his lips. This kiss was lighter than the previous. A small pinch on your throat. You shuddered, feeling a sort of crawling sensation up and down your spine as he let up on the pressure only to gently bite you a second time. With a grunt, he pulled away, his hand touching you, thumb swiping the area he had just assaulted.

 “It should not leave a mark,” he said under his breath. You furrowed your brow before remembering the strict regulations. A hickey atop the collar of your shirt would not have been wise even if you had not been dealing with gossip. General Hux took a step backwards only for both of you to hear a snag. Where Millicent had dug her claws you now sported a small hall through which your bra was readily visible. It was not large, just a glimpse. Yet it was there and it had you scowling. “Ah, apologies.”

 You prodded. “It happens.” This was not the first shirt that Millicent had damaged and you doubted that it would be the last due to your work with her. Oh, Stars, he was just kissing you. The realization hit and your hand stilled. These two men were confusing you. Why had you kissed both of them? You pinched together two sides of the hole. “I kissed him.” You waited for him to react. Anything more than the nod he gave, the silent acceptance that did not precede anger or disappointment, at least not any outward signs of such. “You guys go from arguing about your imaginary girlfriends that turns out to be the same imaginary girlfriend to now not caring that you have both succeeded in kissing the object of your affection that is the same person.”

 You were frantically gesturing with your hands, clapping them together at one point and bending your fingers like claws at another. You were increasingly doubtful that you would be able to follow along with their logic. It failed to match up with itself. Rivalry and anger should remain rivalry and anger when the source was the same. There were limited variables between the first and the second portion of this equation. This was not working and there was no way for you to fix it.

 “What is wrong with your coding!” you shouted, thrusting your hands in General Hux’s direction so that he stepped back. Millicent arched her back, growling in startlement.

 You snatched your belongings from off the floor and marched out of the room. Halfway down the hall, you growled in frustration and turned around. Your stomping could rival Kylo Ren’s. Jabbing a finger into the control panel, you growled another time while pushing into the room before the door was fully open. General Hux had not budged an inch from where you had left him. He had, however, brought Millicent nearer to his face and was repeatedly kissing the top of her head as she rubbed against him. She paused when she caught sight of you. Ducked, her ears drawing backwards though they did not completely flatten.

 “There is an upcoming assignment that involves close proximity, correct?” His questions were falling into place, and you were plenty grateful to have work to focus on even if it included General Hux. He answered in the affirmative. “Is it going to delay the project proposal or, should it be approved, progress on it?”

 General Hux replaced Millicent on the ground. She scampered away towards the bowl of food and water that had been previously set out for her while she was in the room. “The inferior droids that we were given has prompted an investigation into other materials as well as a change in supplier. It has been ordered by Supreme Leader Snoke that a team be present for the meeting. Aelin and Kylo Ren will be accompanying me--us, should you choose to come--as well as three others.” Meaning that the materials would be used in projects beyond what you had a hand in.

 “Strictly business. No personal matters interfering.”

 “Correct.” You gave a sharp nod. “Ah. TeeArr is not invited.” That was not something that you had wanted to hear. “Our senator friend may make an appearance. I do not trust him to keep his lips sealed should he see the droid. He will bring up the TR8-0R series, jeopardizing it and us.” This was the only explanation that did not annoy you. Not that you would have been able to protest regardless.