#i’m imagining caretaker whispering gentle reassurances

[winter-turtle]

Familiar-Unfamiliar - Winterturtle - Marvel Cinematic Universe [Archive of Our Own]

Tony mentally shuddered. Taking care of a regular kid was bad enough, taking care of a teenager was even worse, but taking care of an enhanced amnesiac teenager? That was a disaster in waiting. Tony could barely take care of himself, so just how exactly was he supposed to take care of another human being that practically didn’t know anything about the world?

~

Or villain Tony takes on a role of reluctant caretaker.

The boy’s eyes fluttered open, then immediately closed as the light above him stabbed his eyes. God, his head hurt.

But why did his head hurt? Did he fell asleep on the table again? Did he get hit with a dodgeball?

No… neither of those options seemed right. It was like a good chunk of his memory was missing. Or… more like his whole memory… The boy willed himself to remember, but another wave of pain crashed into his head, making him whine.

“You with me this time, kid?”

The voice sounded familiar, but the boy still couldn’t place it. Where did he knew the voice from?

“Hello?” the man drawled.

“Lights,” the boy muttered.

“Right.”

To the boy’s relief, the lights dimmed, allowing him to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. Huh. What was he doing in a hospital room? Did he get hit with that dodgeball after all? If yes, then he really should do something about…

About who? There was supposed to be name, he knew there was supposed to be the name! Why couldn’t he remember the name? He had to go to… someone… someone who had something to do with chairs… yeah, that someone would definitely help him.

…if only he knew where to find that someone…

The man cleared his throat, making the boy – Peter! His name was Peter! – turn to him. The man with brown eyes and a goatee was leaning on the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and displeased look on his face. Tiny frown settled on Peter’s face as he pushed himself into sitting position. He groaned again, rubbing his face with his palm.

“Great. You’re awake now,” the man continued. “Let me start with this: What the hell?”

“Uh…”

“All this time! All this time, all those encounters we had—"

Peter blinked owlishly at him.

“—I can’t believe they’ve been allowing a kid—”

What the hell was the man talking about?

“—gosh, you’re a kid! You have no business running around like that and putting yourself in danger!”

Oh lord. Was he in trouble? It definitely sounded like he was in trouble.

“—not to mention that this is below my level—”

Well, the man obviously knew him if he was scolding him like that. That was good, right?

“—can you imagine my utter shock—”

“Do you who I am?” Peter blurted out, cutting out the man’s rambling.

It was the man’s turn to be confused. “What kind of question is that? Yeah, I know who you are!” he threw up his arms, then muttered, “I do now, at least.”

Peter was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, that it should be impossible to hear that last part, yet he did. Yet another mystery to be solved. “Good. Because,” he took in shuddering breath, “because I don’t,” he admitted.

“You… don’t know who you are?”

Peter shook his head.

The man fell silent. Then-

This was a total mess.

“Fuck!”

This was a total mess and Tony had no idea what to do. First the kid saw his face, then the kid got accidentally unmasked and… look, Tony knew he was a villain and the fights kinda became their thing, but he couldn’t just let him lie there in the middle of the battlefield while he was bleeding from the head!

It wasn’t even his mess to clean up to begin with! Some other asshole just showed up, claimed he had beef with Spidey and the rest was history. Tony was more of a recreational villain. It was a hobby born out of boredom. His fights with the spider-themed hero were more of a game to him than anything else. Like the kid was a cat chasing the red dot and Tony was the one holding the laser pointer.

What did he do to deserve this? Was it karma for all the time Rhodey had to take care of him during their MIT years?

Tony sighed for the umpteenth time.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

As he said – total mess. Tony kept stirring the eggs on the pan as the kid sat on one of the barstools, kicking his legs and looking around with those impossibly wide Bambi eyes filled to the brim with curiosity. Tony told him to stay in the room, but did the kid listen? Of course not! Because he was a little shit even if he couldn’t remember a damn thing!

“Don’t call me sir. I’m not that old,” Tony grumbled.

The kid’s head tilted to the side in a way that reminded Tony of a puppy. “Then what should I call you?”

God, he’s been fighting a literal kid this whole time.

Tony considered remaining silent. He was a villain. The kid was a hero. The fact remained unchanged even in their current predicament.

“You’re awfully trusting, you know?”

The kid shrugged. “You clearly know me, so… that has to amount to something, right? And besides, you would’ve hurt me already if you had any ill intentions.”

“How do you know I won’t hurt you now?”

“I just do. It’s,” he gestured vaguely, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I can’t explain, but I have this feeling that tells me you’re alright. Like I can trust you.”

Tony made a grimace that could be compared to the face he was making while constipating. It was a good thing his back was facing the kid. “So I’m making you feel safe?”

Please say no. Please say no.

“Yeah, basically.”

Shit.

Tony sighed again. He piled the scrambled eggs on the plate and placed it in front of Peter. “Tony.”

The kid looked up from the plate. “What?”

“You asked what you can call me. Tony. You can call me Tony.”

The kid beamed. “Okay, Tony,” he said and dug in with the appetite of starving man. Tony piled the rest of the eggs on his own plate and joined the teen. Knowing him, Tony should’ve known the silence wouldn’t last too long.

“How do we know each other?”

“Uh…” Yeah, Tony wasn’t sure he should be telling him that. The kid was unpredictable at best and as much as Tony didn’t want to deal with the amnesiac teen, he couldn’t just release him into the wild to fend for himself. “I think it’s best if we let those things come back naturally.”

And until then, he will have to… take care of him. Tony mentally shuddered. Taking care of a regular kid was bad enough, taking care of a teenager was even worse, but taking care of an enhanced amnesiac teenager? That was a disaster in waiting. Tony could barely take care of himself, so just how exactly was he supposed to take care of another human being that practically didn’t know anything about the world?

The kid accepted that as a good enough answer and returned to his food, allowing Tony to resume the brainstorming on how to un-fuck the situation. There wasn’t much he could do since the amnesia was caused by a blunt trauma to the head. If it was caused by magic, then he could go and drop the kid off at the wizard’s doorstep with a note explaining the situation or something and be done with it. The kid’s only remaining family was out of town for the week, and he couldn’t go to the Avengers for obvious reasons.

Wait, couldn’t keeping the kid here be classified as kidnapping?

“Are you my dad?”

The question was so sudden it made Tony choke on the next bite. Violent coughing fit followed. What the hell possessed the kid to ask that?! He? A father? Yeah, no thanks.

There was a hand hitting his back in an attempt to alleviate the coughing. A moment later, Tony got his breathing under control.

“Are you okay?” the kid asked, worried frown on his face.

“Yes, but no!” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m not your dad. How did you come up with something like that?”

The kid had the gall to look sheepish. “Well… you were scolding me when I woke up. Like… you know…” he rubbed the back of his neck, trailing off.

“Like a parent?” Tony finished.

The kid’s cheeks reddened as he nodded. Then he flinched and his hands flew to clutch his head. Tony was at his side immediately. “What’s up?” he asked while lowering the teen into the chair.

The kid squeezed his eyes shut.

Shit, did Tony overlook something? Was there some hidden injury? He knew he shouldn’t have let the kid follow him! Or… was his memory coming back? If yes, then double-shit because Tony still hasn’t figured out what to do when that happened.

“It’s gone,” Peter whispered.

“What’s gone?”

“I…” he shook his head, “I thought I saw something. Like a brief flash of a picture, but when I reached for it, it disappeared.”

Tony was at loss of what to say, but he knew he had to say something because the kid looked so damn sad, it almost pulled at his heart strings. Yeah, only almost, definitely nothing more. “Hey,” he said, placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder gently, “if you saw a flash of what might have been some memory, then that’s a good thing! That means it’ll eventually all come back!”

God, he really had no idea how he’ll handle this once the kid’s memories came back. There will be no explaining the gentleness. He was a villain. A man of steel! He didn’t do feelings, especially towards annoying spider-teens. But the way the kid leaned into the touch made something in his chest stir.

The kid had multiple incidents like that throughout the next few days, all with the same result. But the one thing Tony discovered was that the kid… wasn’t that bad to be around. He was smart, fast learner and always hungry for knowledge. He could keep up with what Tony said without breaking a sweat. The knowledge, even if buried by amnesia, was still there somewhere.

“Finish your food,” Tony said. “We’ll see what we can do about your memories after that.”

Aside from some painfully awkward interactions, doors ripped out of their hinges and reassurances that it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with him and the strength and stickiness was kind of his thing, Tony would say that they got along.

“We’re part of the same family that branched generations ago because of a conflict involving a plot of land, a pig, a goat, a donkey and witchcraft.”

But how long would that last?

“That’s oddly specific, but no. For the last time, we’re not related.”

“Well, technically, all humans are related.”

“Okay, you smartass, but not like that.”

“Hmm, then… you’re an alien that was sent to look over me because I’m the chosen one destined to defeat evil overlord and bring peace and prosperity to some distant planet.”

“You’re just bullshitting now, aren’t you?”

“Maybe. You didn’t answer though.”

“Eh, even with all the crazy stuff going on in the world from time to time, that is also not correct.”

“Then we’re… rivals!”

Tony paused his tinkering. “You could say that, but not quite.”

The kid’s eyes lit up, excited that he was getting closer to the answer. Before he could open his mouth with another onslaught, Tony spoke up.

“Enough with the guessing game for now. Let’s order some dinner. Do you want anything specific?”

The kid looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked up. “Thai,” he said slowly.

“Does anything seem familiar?” Tony asked as he walked into the living room with their dinner.

Tony nodded. “Thai it is.”

Peter, looking intently at the movie titles since he was asked to pick one, pointed at one title. “I don’t know if it’s familiar, but let’s watch this one.”

Tony nodded. “Star Wars. A classic. Okay, hop here so we can start. I’m starving.”

Peter took the offered container. “Thanks.”

It’s been a week since he woke up in here and as much as the images in his head became clearer, it still wasn’t enough to figure out who he was. He was lucky to have Tony looking after him, even if the man didn’t want to say how they know each other – hence the guessing game.

Another painful onslaught hit him at the same moment as the theme song started playing and the food hit his tongue. Peter flinched. More images flashed in front of his eyes.

A woman with glasses and long brown hair.

A boy with black hair holding some round construction in his hands.

Red and blue… what?

And just like that, the images were gone. Peter let out long sigh. No luck this time either.

But this is good, he thought and took another bite.

As the movie progressed, Peter found himself seeing more images and to his thrill, he even finished some lines of the dialogue – all in his head, of course.

It wasn’t until the Death Star exploded that Peter’s head exploded too. Every single image he’d seen suddenly made sense. Connections reestablished themselves and swooped Peter away in a single wave. His heart began to race. Bending over, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, the stress threatening to give the food the return ticket.

“You good?”

Peter wrapped his hands around his stomach a little tighter. He was sitting next to Tony. Tony was Iron Man. Iron Man took-

“Yeah,” Peter forced out and shot to his feet and speed-walked out of the living room. “Just… bathroom.”

“The Thai didn’t sit well with you?”

Peter could hear the worry in his voice. “I guess,” he called over his shoulder and shut the door behind him. “Okay, okay,” he whispered to himself as he fought off the blush from his face and searched for an exit. His saving grace came to him in the form of the window.

Honestly, Tony told himself it was to be expected. The kid was bound to remember and it was only natural that he bolted once it happened. It was fine though, really. Sure, it stung, but he dd his best to squash the feeling.

He slipped into the night.

Why should it matter that some onesie-clad teenager though of him? As a matter of fact, Tony should be plotting how to shut the kid up so he couldn’t rat out his identity.

Yes, he should be doing that.

But he wasn’t.

Someone knocked on the door, making Tony’s irritation worse. Begrudgingly, he stood up, ready to snap at whoever who dared to disturb his sulking- ahem, he meant… never mind. He opened the door and to his surprise, he was met with empty space.

“Damn kids with their pranks,” he grumbled under his breath. His sour mood almost made him miss the package sitting on his doormat. “Huh,” was all he said. Strange. He didn’t remember ordering anything.

Tony set the package on the table and opened it. The first thing that greeted him was a note with familiar scrawl. Peter’s handwriting. Tony pulled out the letter and began to read.

Hi, Mr. Tony!

So, uh, first of all, let me say sorry that I ran away like that! I just, uh, couldn’t take advantage of your kindness anymore. I didn’t want to be a burden.

Tony frowned. So the kid ran because he was… embarrassed?Not because Tony was a villain? He decided to read on.

Next, let me say thank you for getting me off that battlefield. I looked up the footage and saw that you defended me from that other guy, so, thanks for that too.

I have a proposition for you – you won’t tell anyone my identity and I won’t tell anyone yours. It’ll stay between you and me. Well, and my aunt… But she forced me to talk, I swear! She got home early and didn’t believe me when I said I stayed over at new friend’s place. You can’t lie to her!

So, please, keep my identity secret. You might have your suits, but one does not simply mess with May. I doubt you want an angry Italian lady on your ass…

She also insisted on giving you a gift as a thank you for taking care of me. She made you a date loaf. I’m sorry about that.

Tony frowned again. Why would the kid be sorry about a date loaf? He ripped a piece of it, popped it into his mouth and immediately choked. Not really feeling like cleaning the chewed food from his carped, he forcefully swallowed it down. “Okay, I get it now,” he said, shuddering.

P.S. I hope the knowledge of my age won’t change the way we interact while in our suits. The fights with you are fun but I’m getting bored of holding back so you can win. :P XD

- Peter

Tony gasped.

That cheeky little shit! He was going easy on Tony to let him win?! Oh no, Tony didn’t think so! There will be no more going easy! The kid wanted war? He’ll get a war.

But despite that, Tony found himself fondly smirking. “Next time…”

Someone was watching him. Tony looked out of the window just in time to see a blur of red and blue disappear behind a wall of the house on the other side of the street.

“Sure, kid. See you next time.”

[spencers-renaissance]

Still Left With the River

Summary: Derek wakes up to find his boyfriend crying on the sofa. Cue the hurt, the comfort, and the fluff.

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, hurt!spencer, caretaker!derek, domesticity

Pairing: Morgan x Reid

Word Count: 1.6k

Read on AO3

"A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river, but he's still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away, but he's still left with his hands." - Richard Siken, Boot Theory 

After all these years, it’s almost like a little bit of Spencer has embedded itself in Derek: he feels when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s scared so much more viscerally than he’s ever done with anybody before. It must be the reason that he stirs awake at 3am - an irregular occurrence for a deep sleeper like him - knowing even before he’s opened his eyes that something’s wrong. 

The other side of the bed is empty, but it’s still warm. He can see the light from the living room creeping in through the crack under the door, soft shuffling sounds accompanying the gentle glow and it doesn’t take long for the urgency of the situation to get him going. He pulls himself from the warm comfort of the bed and hurries out into the living room where he finds Spencer curled up in a tiny ball on the sofa with Clooney at his feet, a blanket pulled over both of them.

More importantly, he finds Spencer crying. 

“Baby?” he asks, concern obvious in his voice as he rushes over to the sofa and crouches down in front of it, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer’s eyes stay screwed shut, and he curls himself into a tighter ball, even if he can’t stop himself sniffling as tears leak down his cheeks. 

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Derek asks, understanding his reaction. Spencer frequently goes non-verbal when he’s sad or overwhelmed with any emotion, really. It had frightened him at the start of their relationship, but after years of finding his boyfriend in these sorts of situations he’s learned the best ways to deal with them. 

Spencer shakes his head, curling even further in on himself.

“Okay, pretty boy, you don’t have to, you know that,” he says soothingly, caressing his cheek gently as he catches a wandering tear with his thumb. “Do you want a cuddle? Or maybe a hot chocolate, a snack, a glass of water?”

Spencer opens his eyes for the first time at that, blinking up at him with big, glossy brown eyes that make him melt every time he looks into them. He uncurls himself slightly and makes room on the sofa for Derek. 

“My baby wants a cuddle?” he asks warmly, following orders and getting situated on the couch so that Spencer is wedged in between him and the back of the sofa, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder as he allows an arm to snake around his waist and hold him closely. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Spencer. I’m right here.” 

They lie like that for a while, Spencer still crying softly, this time into his boyfriend’s shoulder while Derek just cuddles him as close as possible, drawing patterns lightly with his finger over his face and arms and hands in a way that he knows calms Spencer down. He knows better than to try and force him to talk, he knows that he’ll calm down in time, especially with close physical contact as reassurance, and he’ll speak to Derek when he’s ready. 

It’s one of those moments that Derek could not have imagined happening six or seven years ago. His twenties and early thirties had been defined by one night stands, short flings, and commitment issues. It had taken until he was thirty-two to come to terms with the fact that he liked men, too, and he never would have guessed that the person he actually settled down with would be Spencer.

Domesticity looks good on him, everyone always says, cooing and teasing when he kisses Spencer on the forehead before leaving, or declines an invitation out in favour of watching a nerdy documentary, eating takeout and having a cuddle on the sofa. And he’d have to agree. Settling down with the love of his life was one of the most emotionally thrilling experiences he’s ever had. He didn’t know he could ever love someone so much.

Eventually, Spencer’s soft cries subdue slightly, and he stirs a little in Derek’s hold, nestling his face further into his shoulder.

“You alright there, pretty boy?” he smiles, running a hand through his curls. 

“You smell nice,” he admits, slinging his arm around Derek’s middle, cuddling him back properly. 

“That’s very kind of you, baby,” he chuckles. “How are you doing?”

“Better,” Spencer says, voice a little muffled by the t-shirt Derek had thrown on before coming into the living room. “Thank you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have nothing to thank me for,” he scoffs, twirling a curl around his finger and tugging at it affectionately. 

Spencer just hums, clearly sleepy from the tears and the late night. 

“Do you want to talk about it, baby boy?” Derek murmurs, not wanting to pressure him. 

Spencer sighs heavily, extracting his head from his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I woke up feeling really sad,” he whispers, making Derek smile slightly in spite of the situation. Spencer always finds it easier to talk about emotions or heavier topics if he whispers and it’s one of Derek’s favourite quirks of his, “and I couldn’t shake it. I don’t know why. Sometimes all the bad thoughts build up and then they unleash themselves all at once. Like I never think about my dad or my childhood really, but then on a night like this I can’t stop thinking about it and I don’t know why.” 

Derek knows this, of course. Spencer’s had many of these nights over the years, but he always likes to explain it, to put his emotions into words, into a medium he can process them in, so he listens diligently as his boyfriend works it over in his mind.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, running his hand comfortingly up and down Spencer’s side. “You should have woken me up, I would’ve come and cuddled you from the start.”

“Sorry,” Spencer says in a small voice. 

“Hey, you don’t need to apologise for a thing, alright?” Derek says. “I’m just saying that in the future, you can always wake me straight away, even if I do usually wake up pretty quickly. I need to be here for my boy if he’s sad, don’t I?”

Spencer blushes a little at that, still flattered and overwhelmed by the intensity of Derek’s love even if it’s been lavished on him for over three years now. “Thank you, Derek,” he whispers, placing an endearing kiss to his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Derek smiles gently. “Now, how about we get you a hot chocolate and a slice of toast, maybe some paracetamol for the inevitable post-cry headache and get you back to bed. We can leave a light on and we’ll put a TV show on in the background for some mindless noise, okay?”

Years of experience had cultivated a very strict aftercare routine for nights like these. Spencer’s far too overwhelmed with emotion and thoughts to go to sleep immediately after an experience like this no matter how sleepy he is, so familiarity and distraction are the best routes to getting him back to dreamland. 

They drink their hot chocolates on the sofa together while Derek distracts him with pointless stories from his college days that Spencer could probably tell with better accuracy than him, but tonight he appreciates the slightly monotonous conversation, the rhythm of it soothing him, bringing him down from the emotional rollercoaster he’s just been on.

He doesn’t even complain when Derek butters a slice of toast for him, knowing that it will be futile, but he ends up enjoying it anyway, the warmth of the hot chocolate and toast sitting nicely in his belly, soothing him from the inside. 

Derek ushers him around to get them ready for bed again, forcing him to brush his teeth before insisting on a kiss. “Minty,” he grins.

“Well, I should hope so,” Spencer smiles back, quirking an eyebrow. 

“Come on, you,” Derek says, rolling his eyes as he leads him back to the bedroom with a warm, firm hand in his. 

“Wait, Derek,” Spencer protests as Derek tries to get him back in bed, looking suddenly shy again. “Can I wear one of your shirts to bed?”

“Of course, baby boy,” Derek says gently, sensing that teasing would not be appreciated right now. “You know I’d never say no to such a polite request from such a beautiful boy.” 

“I just… I like the smell, it’s comforting and I want extra Derek tonight,” he says, a little bashfully, despite feeling reassured by his boyfriend’s reaction.

Derek’s heart melts at that as he rustles through his drawer to find the most comfortable t-shirt - only the best for his boy - and like he’s done so many times over the last three years, he wonders what on earth he did to get the karma that landed such a wonderful person right in his lap. 

“I understand, Spencer, it’s all good,” he says softly as he hands it over watching him slip out of his old PJ top and into Derek’s oversized shirt. “You look beautiful.” 

Spencer flushes at the compliment, nestling himself into Derek’s body as he wraps him in a tight hug, pressing his face into his neck as he always does in a cuddle like this one. “Love you so much,” he murmurs.

“Oh, Spencer,” he says. “I love you even more.”

“Not possible,” he smiles, pulling away and kissing him gently before turning to climb under the covers. 

“Oh, baby you have no idea,” Derek teases, but really he knows they both love each other astronomical amounts, there’s no genuine competition at all. 

He pulls Spencer against his chest while he switches on the bedside lamp and the TV, finding a sitcom and turning it on low volume so Spencer won’t be tempted to comment on it. “You try and relax now, sweetheart. Sleep will come, and I’ll be right here.”

“Love you,” Spencer mumbles for the third time that night. 

“I love you too, gorgeous boy,” Derek murmurs back, but he’s not sure Spencer’s awake long enough to hear him.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

[kayzume]

Pairing: Android!Tendou Satori x SicklyF!Reader

Genre: Angst-ish

TW: Character Death (non gore)

WC: 1.7k

Note: Rushed...very. This is my contribution to Haikyuu HQ server collab and my very first time joining one, so I’m uh nervous af. I hope this was sufficient enough:)). Lots of talented writers and artists are participating so make sure to check the masterlist right here

Also: Mama @prismaroyal thank you so much (T^T)..what would I do without you🥺!! @shinrurie and @yacoka thanks for hyping me😳😭

Back to Masterlist

"Is X00 ready?" your father spoke in a low voice.

He looked at you and smiled "just a little bit more my angel, dad is gonna give you the companion of a lifetime" he told you gently. 

"If I even have a lifetime dad," you told him weakly and he gave you this mourning look "y/n don't say such words!" he said to you while shaking his head. He crouched down to your level and caressed your face "I'm gonna make sure that this droid will help you recover, it's not over yet please have more faith in yourself, you'll be fine, you'll get better and-" he sighs then grasps your hands lightly "and we'll be together for a long long time."

You knew that your father was grasping on his false hopes of you getting better. If somebody looks at you in your current state they would surely figure out that your gravely ill, your skin has lost its regular healthy appearance, your eyes were sunken.Your father is a scientist, he's done a lot to help you recover. He tried inventing various ways, medicines, and such to help your gravely ill body to become healthy, but to this day, nothing. None of your father's hard work barely made an impact on you. It always ends up on him getting upset that none of them is helping until today that is.

"He's X00, he will be your companion from now on, he's modeled after caretakers and nurses I'm sure he will be a good factor for your health" your father exclaimed while smiling widely. You shift your sights from your dad to 'X00' he was tall and kind of lanky, with wild red hair and mysterious red eyes, for an android, his eyes seemed so full of life, a clear contrast from yours, which appeared lifeless even for a young girl such as yourself? he was staring at you and you felt weird, like his gaze pierced into your soul itself. Shaking the thought, you stared back at him and he blinked. Wait did he just blink? "He can- h-he blinked, at me!" you told your father incredulously, but he only laughed at your surprised reaction.

"Well of course he can, he was built to act completely human, how else would he be able to sympathize with you if he can't?" your father said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'll leave you to him so you can get to know him" he continued not leaving time for you to say something. You sighed in defeat at the realization that you are now stuck with a mecha humanoid that's just standing there, staring at you silently. Your father must be kidding, how in the world are you supposed to communicate with a metal piece of junk. You were never a fan of technology in the first place, always believing they were a pain and they stole a lot of your father's time. You looked back at 'X00' he doesn't look half bad if you bypass his blood red eyes “You-" you tried starting, but then you started coughing vigorously, it was painful to say the least noticing bits of blood on your hanky, you decided speaking is not the best idea at the moment. He looked clearly worried and you averted your eyes in response, away from his face. You closed your eyes and faced the other side of the lab overlooking the garden, but when you opened your eyes he was there crouched in front of you, staring.

"What the fuck!" you exclaimed startled, a hand to your pounding heart.

Then suddenly you felt a hand to your head making its way to caress your cheek tenderly, it was him. He looked extremely gentle for someone who doesn't have a real heart, you happen to look away only to take notice of your hand now resting on his other hand, something you didn't even notice. You peeked at his face, he was sporting a sweet smile, and you feel the hotness creep all the way from your neck to your face. You lightly try to pull your hand back "Oh uhm give my hand back please" you squeaked. He let go of your hand and proceeded to the back of your wheelchair, slowly pushing your way out of the lab "D-do you have a name? b-besides from X00?" you asked dumbly. Of course, he doesn't, he was only activated today "How about I give you one?" He didn't answer, so you opted to stay quiet as well. How exactly is he supposed to help you when he doesn't even talk?!

Time passes by the two of you and he's slowly acknowledging you. It feels like you're teaching a chick how to speak, rather than him caring for you, it was the other way around. Every time you are to spend time with your mother and father, he would be taken away by your father's attendants, claiming that time with the family was for the family alone, you always missed the forlorn look painted in his eyes. The first time that it happened it took you solid 10 minutes to reassure him that you'd only be apart for a short while. You might not admit it to anyone, but being around him slowly makes you feel at ease and surprisingly you could feel more energy surging through your body. As crazy as it is his presence gave more to you than necessary, and you're loving every bit of it disregarding the fact that being with someone like him is impossible. He understood you and stood by you regardless of what is and whatnot. You were thankful for him being a shoulder to lean on and just for being your friend.

Today, you and X00 will be picking out some flowers. Your mother had said that the air outside mixed with the flowery aroma will help you breathe better and upon hearing such, X00 ushers you both out immediately, you have regained your footing all thanks to X00. Though he barely speaks he always makes your day by humming a specific tune, It was your inspiration to be able to walk again, to be able to dance along with his beautiful music. You knew in the short time that you were together that something changed, you weren't able to pinpoint what it was exactly, but it's definitely there looming over you.

Some things were starting to feel different, the innocent looks turned to something more when it's just the two of you, for you at least. You try to brush off the feelings evidently growing on you as time passes by, you always have to remind yourself "y/n he's a metal junk, he doesn't do feelings" after you're mini realization you fought back the forthcoming tears, but to no avail. You looked up at the sky, asking whoever was up there in heaven, "why me, why us?"

"I" he started, making you look at him "Hmm?" You urged him to continue

"I want...I want a name" he said. The gesture stirred something heart-warming in your chest, but before you could even give him a response, you felt a sudden chill in your back and slowly you feel your world begin growing dark.

Murmurs, murmurs, and more murmurs. You can hear voices but all words seem to be incoherent.

"How is she?" a voice you recognized as your mother's, you can already imagine her pacing around the room by the sound of her concerned voice. She was the type to fret over everything.

"It's not looking good" you presume was your father's, as he gave an exasperated sigh. You thought why was everyone so gloomy? what is happening?

You slowly opened your eyes to the blinding white lights "ugh" you let out in pain. Why does everything hurt? What is with all these tubes and wires stuck on you? You know what was going on. Deep down you knew, but you decidedly keep on rejecting the idea of you passing. You thought if you leave now, how is he gonna keep going, and for what? The thought of him made you snap. 

"WHERE IS HE?!" you screamed startling your parents.

"y/n calm down, sweetie," your mother said while rubbing your back to calm you down "stressing will only make things worse, hmm" as if on cue you felt a sharp pang course through your body "Argh!" you yelped in pain, "hah..hah...hah" you started breathing heavily, the pain is starting to become unbearable, "Mom it hurts...so much" you clung to her as if it will make things any better. Your face is scrunching in pain, tears are starting to sting your eyes. Your mother was cradling you in her arms, you can feel her shaking. She was crying silently and it makes things extra clear for you, This is the end.

You calmed yourself down and pulled away from your mother. You looked her in the eyes and stated "I want to see him, mom, for the last time, please" you pleaded with her. She kissed your forehead and gave you a comforting hug. You both knew that this meant goodbye and it was hard to let go. Your father couldn't stand to look at you so helplessly that he decided to leave without saying goodbye. It was for the best you thought. The door screeched open, he stood before you. He looks forlorn as if something was taken away from him. "Come" you signaled him to come closer, he scooted next to you. You caressed his face, memorizing every inch, "I- I want you to remember that even though it was only a  short period of time that I was with you, I have loved every single aspect there is about you. I remembered you stating that you wanted a name, hmm, your name shall be Tendou because you were heaven's grace to me" you whispered. "You may not be able to feel love, but remember that this heart has only beaten for you." you continued leaning close to put his hands near your heart, with a longing look you placed a loving kiss on his forehead.

You gave him one last smile, "Farewell, Tendou"

Tendou cradled your lifeless body against his, berating himself over not being able to shed a tear. Deep inside him he was praying, “In our next life we’ll be together, I promise” feeling the heaviness in his heart “I loved you too”

[heloflor]

So, I have set myself the objective to finish prologue 2 of “As Time Passes” before the end of the month but then the Dennis fic got in the way…

To make it up, and because I kind of want to show stuff about this prologue, here’s a fluffy and angsty WIP about Dakota post top surgery. And yeah, I guess he’s pretty young in the fic for surgery but I like to imagine that, on a social scale, things got better in the future so people being trans are a normal occurence. Also progress was made on a technological level so it’s very safe for teens (bottom surgery isn’t before 16 though since it’s longer and more difficult).

And for context : there are four siblings. Enzie (23, caretaker of the other three), Bettie (19, studies abroad but came back for the summer), Donnie (15, lives with Enzie), Vinnie (13, lives with Enzie). Because I can’t draw, the designs of the siblings OCs can be found on my miitopia game if you’re curious.

Anyways. Enjoy !

(1k words work ahead)

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July 10, 2144

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.

Vinnie was in the bathroom, shirtless, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked the exact same as he did a few days ago, aside from one small difference.

He now had two scars on either side of his chest.

He stared at it for a long moment. He had been let out of the hospital only a few hours ago and didn’t have had the time to look at his scars yet.

If Vinnie had to be honest, seeing those scars felt weird.

“Vinnie ?”, Enzie’s voice was followed by a knock on the door.

“You can come in.”, the teen replied, never breaking eye-contact with his reflection.

“How are you feeling, piccino ?”, the older brother asked. “Does it hurt ?”

“No, it’s fine…at least I think ?”, Vinnie replied. He let a finger trace one of the scars.

“Don’t touch it.”, Enzie warned, taking his brother’s hand away. “You don’t want to get it infected.”, Vinnie glanced at the adult and, noticing his expression, quickly understood his brother was serious.

“I know, I know.”, the teen replied defensively. He looked back at the mirror, at his scars. “It’s just…”, he made a hand gesture towards the mirror. “you know ?...”

“Keep going.”, Enzie encouraged, setting himself against the counter.

“It’s just…it’s just…strange, to suddenly see my body look like this. It’s weird to know I had surgery. I mean, my breast didn’t even have time to grow.”

“And that’s a good thing, right ?”, Enzie’s voice was suddenly filled with concern.

“O-of course it’s a good thing !”, Vinnie was quick to reassure. The last thing he wanted was for Enzie to think he just wasted an important amount of money. “I’m happy about it, I swear ! It’s just…I look different. That’s all.”

“Well, if you’re happy about it, that’s good.”, the older brother replied. He then stayed still, his eyes closed. When Vinnie noticed it, he immediately raised an eyebrow.

“You’re thinking about something.”, the teen pointed out.

“I am.”, Enzie smiled. “I’m thinking about the three of you.”, the older brother reopened his eyes, looking ahead of him. “Between Bettie studying abroad, Donnie on the path to become a nurse and now you getting your own life as well…”, he sighed. “You all are growing too fast.”

“Yeah.”, Vinnie teased. “Soon we’ll all be out of your hair.”

Enzie chuckled. “As if that would stop me from seeing you as the babies you once were…”, another sigh. “It feels like only yesterday I was taking you all away from Claudia’s clutches.”

“…I guess it’s been a while.”, the younger brother thought out loud. He smiled. “A lot sure has changed.”

Enzie straightened himself. “And I believe it all changed for the better, don’t you think ?”, the two brothers shared a look and Enzie smiled warmly. “I’m glad to see you all be happy, even if things aren’t always easy.”

Vinnie smiled back. “I’m glad you’re doing better too.”, he replied.

Enzie glanced away, his smile faltering. “yeah…”, he whispered.

Vinnie kept looking at his older brother for a few more moments. Noticing the man wasn’t budging, the younger brother went back to look at his reflection. He let his arms rest on the counter, making sure not to touch his scars as the discussion they just had replayed in his head.

“Say…what do you think they became ?”, he asked.

“huh ?”

“Mamma and papà, I mean.”, Vinnie explained, bracing himself when he noticed his brother glancing down, his gentle expression from earlier completely gone and replaced by a building rage. “What do you think they beca-“

“Does it ever matter ?”, Enzie interrupted. “They never bothered for us. Why should we care about them ?”, he spatted.

“I was just asking…”, Vinnie mumbled, avoiding looking at Enzie. He should’ve expected such an answer…

“…”, Enzie sighed. “I guess…”, he started with a calmer voice. “I guess mam- I guess Claudia’s happy she doesn’t have us as a burden anymore. She probably went back to do illegal stuff for money full-time. As for Pietro…”, Enzie’s eyes filled with anger again. “He’s probably alone and miserable, struggling to get by. That’s everything he deserves...”

Vinnie was uncomfortable by the way Enzie talked about their father. And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. Their parents were terrible people. Trying to get their love would only leave him miserable. But at the same time…

Vinnie’s thoughts were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey.”, his older brother said. “There’s no point thinking about the past, alright ? We’re here now. We’re safe now.”, his grip on Vinnie’s shoulder tightened. “I won’t let anything happen to the three of you.”

Vinnie could only nod at his brother’s words. Eventually, Enzie pointed towards the door. Vinnie followed suit, understanding the message. It was soon time for the older brother to make dinner, and Vinnie really needed to put a shirt back on now.

.

“There he is !”, Vinnie was startled as Bettie’s voice filled his ears. He turned towards his approaching sister. “Look at that manly man over here !”, she reached her brothers and immediately got a hold on Vinnie, ruffling his hair with all her strength.

“Bettie !”, Vinnie tried to protest despite his own amusement.

“To think I used to believe you were a girl when we were kids ! What was I thinking !?”, the older sister finally let go of him, instead putting her hands on Vinnie’s shoulders. “Just look at you now ! You’re going to impress all the girls looking like such a man.~ ”

“And the boys !”, the younger brother added.

“And the boys !”, she corrected herself.

“Bettie, come on.”, Enzie gently reprimanded. “He’s only thirteen.”

“So what ? I was thirteen when I started getting into girls.”, the sister replied with a shrug. She ruffled Vinnie hair again, this time much more nicely. “Let him live, he’s not a baby anymore. I mean, look at him ! Look at that man over here !”, she joked again.

“I know.”, the oldest sibling replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. It seemed like Enzie really was going to have trouble letting his siblings go…Vinnie couldn’t blame his brother for it. He was always willing to sacrifice everything for them...They were the most important thing he had going on in life…

“And speaking of girls.”, Bettie continued, stopping Vinnie’s from going too far in his thoughts. “I have a certain someone to call. See you at dinner !”, and at that, she walked away.

“Bettie, wait !”, Vinnie called after a few seconds of hesitation.

“What ?”

Before she could react, the younger brother ran back to her and hugged her, almost making the both of them fall between his speed and her surprise.

“Thank you. For the compliments, I mean.”

It took a short instant before the sister returned his embrace. “Always, patatino.”, they pulled away. “Now, how about you try to find a way to scare Donnie using those ?”, she playfully asked, pointing at his scars.

“I’ll see what I can do.”, Vinnie replied with a laugh. Seemingly satisfied, Bettie let go of him and went to her bedroom. Vinnie did the same. He still had a shirt to put on.

.

As he walked with Bettie’s last words still in mind, he found himself glance down at his chest, at the scars that were now permanently going to be here. He smiled.

That change was weird, for sure.

But that was the kind of weird change he could get used to.

[dandyxrandy]

I love your writing! If requests are still open I would die for a touch starved Din x reader where reader has a hand kink 😩. When Din removes his gloves the reader traces his veins with her tongue 👅 . Can lead to smut if you want! Thank you! 🥰

Golden, I am SO sorry this took so long! I worked this past weekend so I wrote a lot in between hours. Hopefully its worth the wait! (I honestly didn’t think it was going to end up this long...) Pairing: Din x Reader Rating: Excplicit Length: 3.8k Warnings: First-Time Din, Touch Starved Din, Slight Hand Kink, Cuddling, No ACTUAL sex, Fingering (MtoF) Summary: It took a splinter to finally see Din’s hands. It Took A Splinter     It was small things at first, you noticed, and only when it was you two in the Razor Crest. It was first the removal of his cape, hung off the back of his pilot chair during long stretches of time in hyperdrive. His boots came next, staying off after a shower and only going back on when he needed to leave the Crest. Soon his armor stayed in his quarters all together and he walked around the hull in his black under clothes. His helmet and gloves always stayed on, though, still hiding all of his integrity and making him out to be nothing more than a shape of a human. It both infuriated and intrigued you, but overall you were happy that he felt comfortable enough to shed the armor and walk freely around his ship.    You were hired on as a temporary caretaker of sorts to watch Grogu while Din made his rounds through bounty pucks and the placement paid well enough that you continued your occupation well past the terms that were set. It didn’t help that the man was of good company either, even if he was more times grumpy than not and The Child had wormed his way into your heart as well. You dared say it was almost family like - the three of you.     It was why you took extra care of both the little womp rat and Din, making sure their clothes were well washed, food was made, and the ship was stocked with the necessities. It was your job and you did it well, something you took extreme pride in. It was a big step up from the ‘bar-maid that you once were’ and had much more security as well. It was why falling in a deep fondness for Din was such a bad idea. Getting attached to a job was never a good thought, yet here you were, spending more and more time lingering next to Din while he did mundane tasks like clean his gun or rewire his ship. Just being next to him made you at ease.     Then there was the fact that you loved watching his hands work along any piece of machinery or metal. What did he look like under it all, you wondered. Was he green like the kid? Maybe pale like an albino? Many nights you spent with your hand beneath the waistband of your pants, imagining what his fingers would feel like against your skin, against your lips and teeth and between your legs.

    “Dank farrik!” Din had cursed, causing you to peek your head around into the cockpit from the adjacent hall where you were busy counting out food rations. Din had been sitting in his chair for the past half hour, hunched over something.  You couldn’t quite tell from your angle what that something was, so you set aside the crate you were rummaging through and came in, wiping your hands down your soft pants.     “You okay?” you ask as you round his chair and immediately you freeze. It looked like Din was trying to remove something from his hand - a hand that was very much bare and not in a glove. In fact, neither of his hands were hidden behind the thick leather and the sight before you was scarred and worn skin. It was a tawny beige color that stretched over thick fingers and with every flex of his hand you could see the shift of tendons and veins beneath. It was such a beautiful sight.     Din looked up to you, the ‘T’ of his visor turning as he gestured briefly in his frustration.          “I have a sliver that I cannot get removed.” He turned his wrist to you to show the irritated red skin that was slightly inflamed in the meat of his hand, just below the thumb. It was in an awkward spot on his dominant hand and you could tell why he was having such a hard time. “It has been there for three days.”     “Do you want me to give it a go?” you sheepishly offer him, extending your hand out for the tweezers he was using to try and pry the sliver out with.  It would be the first time you touched him on purpose and you’re almost positive he knows this too, but after a moment of deliberation he lets out a sigh and hands over the tweezers.     “If you can’t get it out, I’m chopping it off.”     You snort at how dramatic he is and move to try to find an angle that works enough for you to work on him. Not finding one you end up dragging one of the ration crates over for you to sit on in front of him, his chair swiveling to the side to give more room. You offer out your open palm to him and he gives his hand over, gently letting it rest in yours. You swear you can hear your heartbeat against your chest with how nervous you are. His skin is dry and rough beneath your touch, but it was also warm and  human.     “How did you manage this?” you ask in attempt to distract yourself as you begin to work at the edges of skin surrounding the sliver. It was deep and no amount of bending his thumb or squeezing the surrounding flesh was making it budge.     “I got stuck when I brought in the crates. Stray piece of wood that I didn’t see. Went through the glove.” He was curt in his answer and you briefly looked up to see him watching you intently. You move the wrong way and the end of the tweezers plucks a raw bit of skin and Din swears, his other hand coming to curl around your knee in a heavy grip.     “Sorry!” you apologize, flinching away but the hand on your knee slips up to your lower thigh, holding you from moving to far away.     “Don’t. Just...get it out.” Din doesn’t remove his hand, though he does relax his grip a little.     You work on him for another few minutes, trying not to have a complete mental break at the fact that Din was touching you, and failing miserably. You felt sweaty and you kept having to refocus on your task because your mind continued to stray to the way Din was letting his thumb trace along the seam of your pants, probably to comfort himself as you dug away the sensitive skin.     “Alright this just isn’t working, but I have an idea.” you said as you set the tweezers aside. “You’re going to have to trust me on this. I had a friend growing up that swore by this method, okay?”     Din nodded and watched as you brought his hand up to your mouth, lips wrapping around the base of his thumb to create a seal. You sucked in as you dug your bottom teeth into the flesh of his hand and scraped up with them. Pulling away to look, you saw that the sliver moved up a little and couldn’t help but beam up at him.     “I almost got it!” Din’s hand stilled on your thigh as you brought his hand back to your mouth and repeated what you did before and you felt the tiny piece of wood almost instantly push out and stick to your tongue. You grinned as you let go of him and licked the wood onto your hand, showing him the little piece.     “Got it!”     In your triumph you almost missed the cant of the helmet towards you and the way Din shifted, his legs spreading a little wider as he leaned in to cup your cheek. He took hold of your jaw, his thumb brushing along the soft skin there as his other hand slid from your thigh, up to your hip.     “Thank you.” The voice coder made his breaths sound heavy.. You stilled under his touch, eyes dropping as your cheeks heated and you saw his cock hard between his legs. Oh. Your eyes snap back up to the visor as Din moves his thumb across your lower lip and you part them, your tongue easing out to press against the pad of his finger. Din’s grip tightens on your hip as he pushes his thumb further in and you meet it with a gentle press of your tongue.     He hisses as you move, dragging your mouth from his thumb to the crook where his pointer finger met the curve of his hand and you kiss there, then his palm.  You take his hand gently by the wrist and turn it over to kiss the tendons and the dark veins beneath his skin, your tongue tracing along each strand. Din practically whines beneath the touches and you want to do more to praise the skin that he showed you - that he let you taste.     “It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone…” he admits in a low whisper.     “How long?”     You don’t stop the gentle worship of his hand, your lips ghosting over every crease and fold of him, mapping out every little scar and break of skin. These hands have seen so much, taken many lives, and here they were gentle and soft and open for you.     “Since...I was a child.”     Your heart drops because that was not what you had expected. He hadn’t touched anyone for his entire adult life? You didn’t think something like that was even possible but you also didn’t know much about the Mandalorian Creed, either. Were they celibate until marriage, if they even married? You knew Din had touched others in a more violent sense, what with the nature of his profession but you knew what he meant in his admission.  It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone, skin to skin.     You take his hand and guide it down your neck, letting his fingers flex briefly around your throat before you take it lower across your collarbone and down your chest to graze over the mound of your breast. You leave it there and let him linger and explore in his own time.     “It’s okay, Din - “ you squeeze his hand below yours, making him feel your soft flesh in reassurance. “You can touch me.”It was almost as if you undid a leash on him with your permission. He was quick with you and in the next moment he had you hauled into his lap, legs straddling his hips as he all but tore your shirt off, tossing it to the side of the chair. You let out an indignant squawk at his rough handling and you felt embarrassment under the sudden exposure. You moved to cover yourself but Din;s fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep your hands lowered at your sides.     “Please, let me…” he trailed off as he lifted his hands slowly and you noticed they had a slight tremble to them. Long fingers touched just beneath your jaw and trailed down your neck again, the tips warm and teasing. You could feel the hard line of his erection against your thigh and you knew that his touches weren’t all in innocent exploration.     His fingers traced over your collarbones again, twin images in their movements, and they dropped lower across the plane of your chest above your breasts. He smoothed his palms down and over, flush against you before they moved low, each hand taking a breast and weighing them in his cupped palms. The tips of his nails scrape over your nipples and you both watch as the skin puckers beneath the touch. He does it again and tweaks the nub at the end and it makes you gasp, your hands slipping lower to grip Din’s legs.     You wanted to touch him like he was touching you but you didn’t want to risk breaking the moment. So many times have you imagined this, imagined him touching you and it took a damned sliver in his hand to get you here.     “You’re so soft.” Din turns a hand over and lets his knuckles skim along the dip of your waist and the curve of your hip before stroking lightly across your belly, then back again. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you. His fingers linger a bit longer when they dip along the hem of your pants and they slip beneath for a moment before surfacing again. A war waged in his mind and you hoped that the outcome would end up with your pants on the floor.     Din heaved a heavy sigh as his hands slid along your sides and up your back to the base of your skull where he threaded his fingers into your hair. You rocked closer, pressing into his chest as you leaned against him, chin resting on his shoulder. He was content to play with your hair there, his fingers rubbing along your head. You felt like there wasn’t a part of you that he hadn’t touched, above the band of your pants, and yet there was so little of him that you had yourself.     “Din, I want to touch you.” you paused, moving in his lap a little, hips shifting against his thigh in a slow grind, a small mischievous ploy to help get what you wanted. “Please?”     He hummed low in his chest but he didn’t make a move beyond a slight flex of his hands that were now on your shoulders, palms curving across the bend of bone and muscle. You arched into him again, your hips pressing more firmly against his own and your cunt dragged across his length again. Maker, you were wet just from him touching you like this.     “Din -” you began again but stopped when you heard the sound of a wrapper crinkle. You perked up and looked over Din’s shoulder and saw the very tip of one green ear in the next room over.     “Fuck, Din,” You scramble a little at seeing Grogu not ten feet away, and while he was preoccupied with scarfing down ration bars, you didn’t want to chance him seeing you topless on top of his Dad. “The kid.”     You get your shirt back on after getting to your feet and you watch Din adjust himself in his pants as he swivels the chair back around to face the control panel. Grogu looked over from the ration crate he had been plundering and cooed with happiness at finally being given attention. You ran a hand through your hair, composing yourself.     “I’ll get him back to bed,” you say shakily. “He was probably just looking for a snack.” Which he obviously found. You go to pick the kid up but Din stops you by catching your hand.     “Thank you for...that.” The last word was almost a mumble,  as if he was unsure how to explain what just happened between the two of you. You gave his hand a small squeeze.     “I would like to do it again, sometime. Maybe after I get the kid to bed?” It was a bold offer and you toed your luck with giving it up but after Din practically melding his hands into your skin, you thought you didn’t have much more to lose. Din squeezed your hand in return, though.     “I would like that.” ___     It took about an hour to get Grogu back to sleep after he had finished his snack of three ration bars and a concentrated juice pack. The endless stomach of the kid never ceased to amaze you, even after you’ve seen him eat about a dozen frogs on the last planet that you all had been on. When Din came to find you later, you had the kid in your arms, and were edging close to the land of sleep as well. You gave a somnolent smile and pressed a finger to your lips to ‘hush’ Din, even though he had appeared in the doorway without a sound. You set the kid inside his pod and clicked the button to slide the doors shut and waited a moment to see if there would be any fuss from the other side. When none came you sat on the edge of Din’s bed, heaving out a sigh of relief.     “He may be the cutest little cock-block that I have ever encountered in my life,” you jested. Din didn’t move from his stance against the doorway and it made you a little unsure of yourself. Your hands smoothed down your pants to rest on your knees as you contemplated what to do. What did Din think of everything before? Did he regret it now that time and space had been given to the both of you?     While you were with the kid you had reflected back on your actions as well and while you didn’t regret what had happened, you did regret that you didn’t take your time to assure Din that things would be fine between the both of you and that if he wanted to forget that it ever happened, you would act like such. You didn’t want to ruin anything between the two of you.     “It is late. I suppose I should let you get some sleep, too. I’ll pilot for a bit.” When you stood, Din finally spoke.     “Did you mean what you said before? About wanting to ‘do it again sometime’?”     You answered without really thinking, letting your heart lead first before your mind could catch and silence it.     “I did.”     Din’s head tipped and you imagined his eyes closing in thought and you wondered what he was thinking. You hoped it was about touching you again. Maker, you wanted him to touch you again.    “I would like that. Kriff - let me, please.” It sounded like a plea as he closed the distance between both of you, his hands sliding up to cup your face. His gloves were still off and his fingers were warm as they slid against your skin. The cool metal of his helmet dipped against your forehead to rest there as he held you close. It almost felt like a kiss and for all you knew, it was the closest thing you would get to having one with him. When you didn’t pull away Din shifted to press closer.     “Take off your clothes,” he softly whispered. “And lay on the bed.”    The command left you shaky with need and you fell into a gentle movement as you removed your clothing, Din stepping back enough to watch you expose yourself to him. You glanced briefly to the egg pod that Grogu was in and the lights blinked gently to indicate that the little one was still asleep inside. You would have to stay quiet.     Your shirt came first, up and over your head. The cool air of the ship made your skin raise with gooseflesh and Din reached out to touch your arm, thumb rubbing over the prickled flesh. Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you leaned down to take off your pants and underwear in one go, Din’s hand slipping into your hair as you did. He wasn’t making this any easier.     “On the bed.” It sounded like it was more for himself than you but you moved away from his touch and laid where you were told to, propping yourself up by your elbows as you watched Din move to kneel before you. Awareness sprung to the forefront of your mind and you realized just how very naked you were and it made you blush.     Din was slow, too, as he reached to touch the bone of your ankle and up, his palm curving over your shin to form against your leg. It was so tender, how he touched you, and you reveled in it. His touch slid higher towards the warmth between your legs and you shut your eyes, head tipping back as his knee knocked your legs apart to reveal yourself to him. “Mesh’la,” he muttered, his fingers stopped at your hip as he looked you over. You felt so hot under his gaze even though you couldn’t see anything past the black visor. Arching into his touch you allowed your legs to bend and your hips shift up so he could see all. His hand traveled from your hip to the space just below your belly and his heel dragged across your pubic mound, then further.     He covered you fully at first, his palm curling before his fingers dragged along your outer lips then inner. You canted your hips up into the touch and the very tips of his fingers pressed inside. You moaned out his name before remembering you needed to be quiet and you pressed a hand against your mouth as he explored further up to the first knuckle of one finger.     You were already so slick and open for him and it made it easy for him to slide all the way in and then pull back out to add a second finger. He slowly fucked you with his hand and when he curled his fingers up you had to catch yourself from pitching forward. It was so good - almost enough. You reached down to join his hand and you spread yourself with your fingers, your thumb pressing against your clit.     “Here,” you breathed. “Touch here, too. Steady and slow. Don’t go fast, not yet.”     Din’s thumb flicked up and over and you bucked up again into the touch. His free hand came down on your stomach, pressing your hips back into the mattress as he rubbed small circles on your clit while his fingers remained in you, stretching you full.     “Kriff -that’s so good.” It was a praise that spurred him forward, keeping his thumb pressed down but speeding up to a quicker stroke. Your body arched up despite his hold and you twisted beneath him as you felt the head of your arousal rumble deep. A thin sheen of sweat broke across your skin as Din kept at you, steady and so beautifully dedicated. He listened to your whines and pants of pleasure and adapted to it.     “I’m gonna - fuck…” Your hands twist in the sheets of the bed, your entire being becoming taught as your orgasm builds beneath Din’s hands.     “Cum for me, ad’ika.”     You do, your legs shaking as Din strokes the fire within, along your clit, and through your body’s movements beneath him. He rides your release with you and you know he’s watching it all, his gaze behind the helmet heavy on your flushed skin.     Through your haze you can feel how gentle he is with you, his hand no longer bringing you over the edge but now coaxing you to ride the slope down. He holds you, your leg and your hip, his thumbs peeling over and over against the skin in a gentle worshiping caress. Blinking lazily you turn to him, glance down between his own legs and see the dark patch gathering there and you couldn’t help but smile. He hushes you and moves to cover your body with his own, his weight held up by the frame of his arms.     “Thank you,” Din’s voice is soft through the vocoder.     “Let me -” You reach down between the both of you but Din catches your wrist.     “Not tonight. Let’s just stay like this,” He pauses as you frown a little. “Please,” He adds and you agree, settling beneath the cover of his body in the knowledge that he just wanted to take care of you and take greedy touches of your skin. The warm weight of him sends you in and out of sleep and you twist to settle more comfortably on your side. Din moves with you and lays behind, his body pressed up to every inch of your backside and legs twining with yours.

It was, perhaps, the best way you have fallen asleep in a very long time.

[morallygreyprompts]

Bad Things Happen Bingo 2.0 #8

Hidden Scar:

Whumpee: Villain Caretaker: Hero/Lover

Trigger Warning for Scars and thinking negatively about them. (I’m so sorry I don’t know if there’s a term for it or not. I’d say body shame).

Ladies and Gentlemen, please remain seated and do not panic. I know, I’ve posted on time for once ^^’ (Totally wasn’t because I was excited wrote this as soon as I got my card)

Hero woke up sweating when they heard Villain scream in the room opposite. It was a real scream, full of terror and pain, the kind that would tear up someone's throat. They leapt out of their bed and rushed to the room, only Villain wasn't in their bed.

"[Villain]?!" Hero cried.

Hero saw light coming from the ensuite and they hurried inside. They found Villain hiding there in a cold sweat, shaking and taking heaving breaths. They were pressed as far as they could into the corner of the room, hiding under the sink. Their knees were pressed up against their chest and actively pushing against the ground as if trying to get further back against the wall. They kept their head hidden. Hero just couldn't figure out what was wrong. What had dragged them to such a dark place in their mind? They covered their face with the crook of their elbow, and now Hero as watched them long enough, they realised they were crying.

"[Villain], baby?" Hero called out gently. They crouched down facing them, but they were still a meter or so away from them.

Villain didn't respond, they didn't look up.

"[Villain]?" Hero tried again. They inched forward. "I'm gonna come closer, okay?"

"L. Leave… Just go, really. I'll be fine," their voice died in their throat.

"Right now, I'd like to make sure of that. I love you, [Villain], and right now I'd really like to help. You don't have to hide this from me- we're in this together, remember?"

The crying came louder, pained, but muffled sobs. Hero knew Villain hated anyone seeing them crying, let alone like this.

"[Villain], please look at me."

Hero scooted closer, deliberately making noise so as to not startle them. Their hand brushed against Villain's shoulder before they trailed their fingertips down Villain's jawline. Villain leaned into the touch and allowed Hero to guide their head up until they were able to make eye contact. Villain just couldn't hold it, not while they felt so exposed and weak. They looked away.

“S.sorry...”

Hero inched a little closer. "Come here… shh." Hero cupped their cheeks with both hands and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together with their eyes closed. "Deep breaths, follow my lead, okay? Let’s just get you calmed down."

Villain did their best to copy Hero's steady rhythm while Hero stroked Villain's cheek with their thumb as a gentle reassurance. "Relax, baby… you're okay… Good." They stayed like that for a while, ignoring the ache that crept into their legs until Villain's tears slowed. Villain finally reached up to hold them.

Hero sat down beside them, and gently put an arm around them, letting them rest their head against their chest. Villain shook in their arms, but they didn't speak, not yet. Hero guessed they were trying to build themselves up to it.

"Do you think we can move into the bedroom?" Hero suggested, noting the coolness of Villain’s skin since they were wearing pajama shorts and a t-shirt. "You're getting cold."

Villain nodded slightly and started to get up. They had to reach out for the edge of the sink for balance. Hero helped and brushed Villain's hair out of their face with a soft smile. "It's going to be alright."

Hero took them by the hand and guided them into Villain's bedroom, eased them onto the bed and offered them a thin blanket that usually lay on top of the duvet. Villain wrapped it tight around them.

Hero sat beside them, letting them lie against them again. Hero cradled Villain's head.

"Bad dream?" Hero guessed.

"Flashback," they croaked. They were still so upset that their voice was sticking in their throat.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Villain moved away from Hero with shaky but deep breaths. "You'll hate-" Villain had to cover their mouth to stop them from crying again.

"I won't hate you, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about. I could never. If you want to talk, then you can trust me."

Villain forced themselves to be calm again. They hadn’t wanted the truth to come out like this, but it was done now. They managed. "I… I was once [Supervillain]'s prisoner." That word didn't sit right in their mouth. No, they were so much more than a prisoner. Pathetic, insignificant little pest!

"I was beautiful," Villain breathed. "They were beautiful a.and…"

Hero didn't look to understand, but they also didn't want to push.

"They… they took my... wings," Villain whispered. They curled up on themselves again. They felt sick, vulnerable. They wanted nothing more than to be able to hide behind their soft feathers again.

Hero paused. "You had actual wings?"

Villain nodded. "H.hurts, without them."

Hero looked at Villain's back that was facing the wall.

"They made the freak a freak! The S.scars" Villain choked out. The memory looked to be playing out in their mind, and Hero desperately wanted to intervene when they began to struggle with their breathing.

"This is why you sleep in a separate room, why you hide from me?” Hero realised.

“I’m sorry,” Villain groaned.

“I’m not mad, baby.” Hero had an idea and tugged off their own shirt. Villain took in the sight of Hero’s marked body, old cuts, bullet wounds, and burns, so many old injuries. “We all have scars. I’ve always seen them as a sign of strength personally. That you’ve gotten through. I can imagine that you have it a lot worse off, but I want you to know I’m with you.”

Villain nodded slowly, but they couldn’t take their eyes away from Hero’s skin.

“You want to touch them?” Hero asked, offering an arm. Villain’s hand was shaking, but sure enough, they ran their fingers across a long scar on their forearm. “H.how do you just accept this? They’re-” Villain stopped themselves immediately.

“Ugly? Weird? Meh, they’re no weirder than my face,” Hero looked down at their arms and smiled. “They tell stories, that one was when I got my arm stuck when I was underwater. It took me months to get over my fear of water.”

“Stories,” Villain mumbled. “Maybe for you… I was told that. That they were… bad.”

“Can I see the scars for myself? You don't have to." Hero asked. Villain tensed. "Either way, I'm not going to leave you, baby. I promise."

With that, Villain nodded slowly, turning around and covering their face with fistfuls of their blanket.

Hero waited a second to be sure they were allowed and then eased Villain's shirt up, past their lower back, then the middle, and finally over their shoulder blades. Villain took the shirt off to make it easier. They shuddered and brought their knees back up to their chest.

Hero tried not to wince at the horrendous scars, showing only a story of heartless ferocity. The scars were deep, uneven, and twisted on each shoulder blade. They hadn't healed as well as they could have.

"You dreamt about when they took them from you…"

"I hate them!" Villain sobbed. “They’re hideous.”

"Can I touch them?" Hero asked. Villain nodded and swallowed hard. 

Hero was incredibly gentle as they ran their hand down Villain's left shoulder. They shuddered and arched their back away from Hero.

"S.sorry, I. I can't." Villain hurriedly put their shirt back on.

"It's okay. It's okay. I understand." Hero smiled, “But as I suspected, they tell a story just like mine.”

“There was no story-”

“Well, I see wounds that changed your whole life, but you’re healing. You’ve gotten better, and now your life is back on track.” Hero leaned to the side to try to see their expression. “They show just how strong you are, [Villain], and for that, I think they’re beautiful, just like you are. It’s part of you. Don’t let [Supervillain] make you ashamed of who you are.”

Hero encouraged Villain to turn and face them, keeping a loving hand on the side of Villain's neck. "Thank you for trusting me. I won't ask you any more questions, I know you aren't comfortable with it."

Villain nodded with tears in their eyes and held onto Hero again, tighter than ever before.

“I just want them back,” Villain whispered.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Hero was careful not to press on the scars, but they held them back and stroked the hair on the back of their head. Slight twitches from Villain’s shoulder blades now made sense. The joints that would once control their wings no longer had a purpose. Hero lay back, allowing for Villain to rest their head of their chest, just in range of being able to nuzzle into the crook of Hero's neck.

"Do you want me to stay in here for the rest of the night?"

“Please. T.thank you, [Hero]. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m going nowhere.”

Hero held them until they were able to fall asleep with the gentle glow of the bathroom light watching over them.

Like my stuff and want to support what I do? Then maybe consider buying me a Kofi? Ko-fi.com/morallygrey

[yankyo]

Hi yes totally not Toby here. Could I request. A lil smth smth with yandere with some/all the wasps please? 👉🏻👈🏻👉🏻👈🏻

Of course Not Toby!

The first thing to remember with each Wasp is that even as a Yandere, he is a caretaker first and foremost. This is not a clone that will hurt you in any stretch of the imagination. As a yandere, any Wasp’s biggest concern is your wellbeing, he has to make sure you’re eating right, getting enough sleep, getting the right exercise - basically your health is what he focuses on. If he sees you aren’t taking care of yourself, he will step in to take care of you instead.

Each Wasp is slightly different of course, so here is a few different scenarios that could play out with the Wasps

Irish Wasp

He noticed you around the bar at first, noticed how cute you were but couldn’t exactly work up the courage to talk to you until he saw you were getting far too drunk far too quickly and the person next to you had an odd gleam in their eyes

He stepped in pretty quickly, kicking the creep out of the bar and taking you into the back room to keep you safe while he tried to track down friends or family that could come in and pick you up - at this point, the drug had taken hold over you and you were told about the giant Irishman taking care of you the next day by your friends

It was a week before you returned to the bar and when you did you made a beeline for the man who matched your friend’s description, and looking at him you remembered his hand stroking your hair as you puked, his soft voice assuring you that everything would be ok

When you walked up to him, he gave you a soft smile that made your heart stutter and asked you if you were ok, he blushed when you thanked him and told him he was your savior. When you offered to buy him a drink, he rejected it at first but after some goading, you were able to convince him

He quickly became your drinking buddy after that, whenever you had a free night, you would go to the bar and sit with him, spending hours talking about how the week had gone and hearing funny stories he could tell about his... you weren’t exactly sure what they were? You thought they were relatives but that didn’t seem right either. You knew the man they called Boss owned the bar and had seen Cia around with his husband here and there, but never really had the chance to talk to him. Besides, you were all too happy to talk to Wasp

Before long, you gave Wasp your number and started planning your meetups ahead of time, even seeing him out of the bar, inviting him to your home to cook him dinner, going out shopping with one another, spending more and more time with him

You knew you had a crush fairly quickly, it was impossible to not notice how your heart pounded when he would wrap an arm around you, to not feel your cheeks burn when he smiled your way. Such a tiny, rare smile you felt was only for you. And fuck, did that make you feel special.

There was odd times with Wasp, days when one of his friends would come around to whisper something in his ear, when his eyes would get cold and he would give you an apologetic smile before he had to leave - those nights he wouldn’t come back, in fact it would always be a few days before you could see him again

Every time you tried to ask him about his job he would skirt the question, eventually you dropped it. Until one night he showed up at your doorstep, the girl you knew to be called Lex half holding him up, both of them beaten and bloody

Despite your panic, you threw yourself into action to take care of them, not allowing them to just brush off your concerns until they admitted that they had been jumped by some enemies of their boss

The idea that the sweet man was part of the mafia was an inconceivable one to you, but as you peeled off his shirt and saw his tattoos and scars... hearing what Lex had to say, and then when their boss came to get them later and hearing all the others preparing for the attack to put these enemies down for good, well, you couldn’t deny it

You thought you would be more scared of Wasp, that you would want to chase him away and clear this whole mess from your life, but as you saw him lying on your couch, his eyes full of fear and apprehension as he regarded you, clearly watching for your reaction to all of this, you couldn’t do anything but take his hand in yours, squeezing tightly in reassurance.

He had loved you before, but it was that moment he knew you were the one, that he couldn’t let anything come between the two of you

He healed all too quickly and though you were curious, you held back from asking, you were certain that when he was ready, he would come and talk to you

You had become closer since that night, he was much more willing to talk to you about his life. Confiding in you about the darker turns his job had taken, the things he had been forced to do and the brushes he had with death. It was startling to think of the things this gentle soul was capable of, but he was nothing but sweet with you. The man could hardly even raise his voice without immediately apologizing - how could you see him as a threat in any stretch of the imagination?

You got your answer all too soon, sitting in the bar by yourself and waiting for him to come you were surrounded by a vaguely familiar looking man. He gave you a bad feeling, but you couldn't remember where you had seen him and didn’t want to appear rude, so you talked to him. Or, well, let him talk while you gave soft hums in response when he took a second to take in a breath. He tried to order you a drink, his expression faltering when you were adamant in your refusal, but easily shrugged it off. Then he would bring it again, waving a hand towards the bartender - you recognized them as Jazz, who thankfully looked to your uncomfortable expression and shut the guy down soundly.

You looked to your phone, silently begging Wasp to hurry, your body growing stiff as the man scooted in closer, setting his hand on your thigh. “What do you say we get outta here, huh?” You tried to brush the hand off, only for his grip to get tighter and Jazz was off at the opposite end of the bar dealing with some other patrons. He wasnt there to stop this guy from scooting in uncomfortably close. “You know, you were just about ready to come home with me last time, til that big guy cut in. That your boyfriend or something?” A chill went up your spine, you knew who this dude was. You thought he had been banned from the bar or something! “You know that guy is trouble. People round here talk, say the guys here aren’t good news. Aren’t even human.” You jerked to the side, only for him to scoot in closer, trapping you against the wall with his body. “I’m just telling you this for your own good, I’d hate to see ya get wrapped up in something nefarious or something.” A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, ripping him away from you and onto the floor with a startled yelp.

You had never been so relieved to see Wasp, even as his hair burned red with anger and he glowered down at the man with fire in his eyes. The creep opened his mouth to say something, but Wasp knocked him back to the ground, his foot landing on his chest to keep him pinned down to the ground.

“I thought I told ye ta get lost.” His voice was a low, dangerous growl, but as he held a hand out to you, you took it without hesitation, hiding behind his body as you tried to get your anxiety under control. The man squirmed, looking like a bug as his limbs flailed uselessly. Wasp didn’t even flinch as he clawed at his ankle, only pressed down harder on his chest, forcing a pitiful wheeze straight from his lungs. “I’m going ta give ye one last chance, if I see yer face anywhere near them again, I’m going ta tear ye apart.” You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Wasp’s face. His eyes were glowing and as he snarled you were certain his teeth were sharper than before. He looked animalistic.

“Now, crack on, don’t lemme see yer face around here again.” The man wasted no time in scrambling away as Wasp lifted his foot, fleeing straight out the bar. Wasp hesitated before turning to you, the red in his hair shifting to blue as he regarded you. “I.... sorry.” He mumbled, looking small as he took a seat, his head hanging low. Gone was the fury, replaced instead by guilt, fear, worry. You hated seeing him like this

You stepped in closer, lifting his chin with your fingers so you could lean in and kiss him softly. “Thank you.” You whispered, “You saved me again.” This tips of his hair turned pink as he gaped at you, frozen with surprise, but as you leaned in and gave him another gentle kiss, his hands settled at your hips and he gently pulled you closer.

Spanish Wasp

He was introduced to you by the much more friendly Bee and his long still heart had fluttered in his chest as he listened to your giggle, saw your sparkling eyes light up as they took you around Boss’ garden. You were so beautiful it just took his breath away, what were you doing around their kind?

Bee had said that you had kept running into one another at the coffee shop he frequented and eventually found yourself talking and the friendship had gone on from there, Wasp couldn’t help but wonder if you would have gotten that close to him if he had been the one at the coffee shop. Probably not...

You kept coming around, befriending the rest of the clones and getting Boss’ attention as you did, you were so friendly and sweet, of course they all loved you

It wasn’t odd for you to sleep over at the manor some nights, passed out on the couch with Bee and Chamie at your sides, Wasp had taken it upon himself to carry you to a bed those nights, unable to help but watch over you while you slept. He had to keep you safe from the likes of Jazz and Cici, who would certainly crawl into bed with you or do some unsavory prank, after all... his stomach didn’t flutter when he would reach out to brush your hair out of your face and you would give a sleepy hum and nuzzle against his touch so sweetly.... definitely not

He was tempting fate like this, and he wasn’t surprised when one night, he fell asleep beside you and woke up to you sitting up in bed, giving him a curious look.

“I wondered who it was that tucked me into bed at night,” You didn’t look scared to be around him like he thought you would, instead you gave him a puzzle look, “Do you always sleep in the chair like that? That has to be uncomfortable,” He didn’t know what to say, he was just barely holding back from poofing away and hiding until his mortification had finally faded, but you reached out to touch his hand, “Wasp, you know, you could have laid down with me, that has to be killing your back.” He could have self combusted at the thought. Sure, he felt your body against his when he picked you up, had caved in to smell your hair when he set you down into the soft sheets, but the thought of laying with you??

You urged him up to his feet, your voice reassuring, soft, a siren’s call that led him to settling into the bed with you. He found himself lying with your head on his chest, your much smaller body curled up against his so comfortably. It didn’t take you very long to fall asleep but he lay awake the entire time

He trailed his fingers up your arm, watching goosebumps follow the cold touch. Twirled your hair around his finger, marveling at the texture. Brushed his thumb against your lip, wondering what it would be like to kiss you. He couldn’t deny his crush on you after that night... and after that he would lay down with you, enjoying these private, secret times he had to spend with you

Of course, such blissful moments couldn’t last forever and it didn’t take long before the other clones were bursting in on you, demanding he share this cuddling time he had to spend with you. It was ridiculous, they got to spend all day with you. Jazz would drag you off to dance with you, his hands trailing all over your body. Bee would run off to spend days with you, had even slept at your house. Chamie never wasted a moment to flop himself in your lap, Jay not too far behind as they both demanded you pet their hair, but Wasp had to share these tender moments? It wasn’t fair

Selfishness was a new feeling for this clone, he never had a problem giving up things to the others before, but now? He never wanted to give you up. He wanted to keep you all to himself

He would find peaceful little places to bring you to, by the cherry tree, a cave behind a waterfall, a quiet spot on the roof, he likes to make it romantic and isolated to dote on you

Fighting with the other clones was another new thing, Wasp rarely really spoke up so hearing him snap back when the more lou spoken clones - like Jazz and Chamie, were complaining was completely new

He grew more and more greedy for your time, and you certainly couldn’t find it in you to deny him. He spent to long in the background sending you forlorn, longing looks, seeing him actually take a stand for what he wanted was new, but it was nice

And you certainly couldn’t deny how your heart fluttered as he looked at you so tenderly, as if you were the only thing in his world he could see

You were more than happy to sit with him in the garden, making flower crowns and sneaking kisses just to see the pink spread across his face and through his hair

Cajun Wasp

It was a very old house, the realtor had told you it had “character”. She wasn’t really lying, it was a beautiful home and you had found out it had quite the history. You didn’t really believe in ghosts, so despite the gruesome past this house had undergone, you moved in anyways

The strange sounds were all said to explain. The house was settling, the doors creaked, wind blew in from some unfound hole in the roof, maybe a rat had found its way in the walls. But there were some things you just couldn’t explain. The shadows on the walls, the way things just disappeared or were moved somewhere strange - like the cup of coffee that had been left on the counter was found on the floor by your front door. Or the shirt that had vanished without a trace.

You didn’t believe in ghosts, but something was up here, so, while biting back your own disbelief you searched for some way to get evidence that something was actually happening. The internet told you that the ouija board wasn’t a good idea, but you weren’t wasting the money on some psychic. Honestly, you didn’t use the ouija board for a good few weeks, but after you got appropriately drunk, you settled at the kitchen table and called out to whatever was in your home

You felt so silly at first, but the planchette moved on its own when you asked who was there, sliding up to the word ‘yes’. A chill ran up your spine. “Have you been messing with my stuff?” The planchette circled ‘yes’ twice. “Are... are you trying to chase me out?” Hesitation. It slid over to the word ‘no’ before it slide down to the letters, moving slow enough for you to read. S. O. R. R. Y.  L. O. N. E. L. Y.   I. N. V. I. S. I. B. L. E.   F. O. R. G. O. T. T. E. N. You felt bad for whatever it was, despite the stress it had caused you.

“What’s your name?” You knew this was a bad idea, but you had to ask, W. A. S. P. A weird name, but the planchette shivered when you called it out, jumping slightly when you smiled and repeated it. “As long as you stop with these pranks, I don’t mind sharing the house with you, alright?”

The next morning, you thought the previous night had been just a dream, but when you walked downstairs your coffee machine started up on it’s own, your favorite cup already set up. “.... Ah... thanks Wasp.” Your lights flickered twice and you felt a cold presence at your side. This was.... bizarre.... but, well, you came this far.. right?

An odd sense of peace was quickly found, you would bring home treats for Wasp and he would help you around the house. It wasn’t all too odd to find a message written in the mirror, or to find the planchette outside your door when he needed to talk. You enjoyed your conversations, but wished there was a way you could actually talk to him, a sentiment you brought up to him one night. The lights flickered, your candles blew out, and the planchette froze for the rest of the night. You called out to him, apologizing for upsetting him, but there was no response for the next few days.

You had been in the shower when a crash caught your attention, you stuck your head out of the shower and written in the fogged up mirror was one word. “Name” what the hell did that mean? You called out his name and the number “3” was written there before your eyes. “Wasp?” The lights flickered and you covered yourself with a towel, feeling an odd weight on you as you said the name one last time. “Wasp.” The lights turned off completely and there was the smell of smoke in the air, you called out to him again, stumbling in the darkness to try and find your way to your phone when you ran into a body, a very tall, solid body nand before you could jerk back, hands came down to grab you.

“Wait!” The voice was decidedly male, low, velvety, a smooth accent that you had heard on the streets. “It’s me” your heart was in your throat.

“Wasp?” He let out a soft, relieved sigh and his eyes glowed in the darkness, so much higher than you would have thought they would be, one green, the other a striking purple

His hands were big, they settled on your hips as he pulled you in for a tight hug, his voice gruff with emotion.

“I can finally touch you.” He marveled, the lights flickered and you got a peek at him, at the bright green and pink hair, his wide smile, he had scruff at his chin, his teeth were slightly pointed, his hair wildly curly. He was handsome and you swiftly remembered where you were and what you had been doing when his hand trailed up your wet back.

When he realized it too, you would have thought he would explode, he immediately whirled around, his hair turning a scarlet pink as he covered his face and stammered out apologies. For the rest of the day, he would stare off in the distance, blush once more, and apologize again. It was cute, cute enough for you to forgive him, even if the memory made you blush as well

Things changed now that you could see him, actually hear him. He would disappear at will and leave you alone to work, but as soon as you called out to him, he would be at your side. A constant companion to sit and talk with. Eat with. Cuddle.

The first time you instigated cuddling, you had been half asleep, watching some reruns on tv with him. You had laid your head on his shoulder and though he tensed up at first, he swiftly relaxed once more, carefully drawing you in close to his body and pulling a blanket up around you. That definitely wouldn’t be the last time you fell asleep on him

You were spending so much time at home now, you would practically run home from work every day just to spend time with him and friends were starting to notice. You weren’t sure how to explain the whole situation to them, hell, some days you wondered if you weren’t just losing your mind, so when they expressed their concern and asked for you to spend some time with them, you didn't have a real excuse to say no

The trip was quickly planned, a week with your friends to relax and unwind - honestly it did sound nice. Though Wasp was a great help in unpacking and putting the house together, between that and work you were admittedly tired.

Explaining it to Wasp, however, proved to be something of a challenge. Just bringing up the idea of you leaving made his eyes widen with panic, made him cling to you. He begged you not to leave, don’t leave him behind! You tried to explain it, but he just held onto you, his large frame trembling.

Who had abandoned him? It wasn’t the first time you wondered just how he had ended up here, alone and invisible to everyone. You had tried to bring up the subject but all he could say was once he had a boss and something bad had happened. He never elaborated on what the worse was.

The closer it got to your trip, the clingier he got. You tried to explain again and again that you would be back at the end of the week, but it didn’t seem to do much. He was throwing tantrums. Lights flickered more and more, calls weren’t coming through, cups were up too high for you to reach, water would get ice cold in the middle of your showers. You would get on his case, but how could you yell at him when he curled in on himself, his hair blue and purple as he hugged his knees?

The day you were set to leave, he was nowhere to be found. You called his name again and again, but there was no answer. Suddenly there was a call from your friends, they had to cancel the trip. Anything that could have gone wrong did, their tires were slashed, their sink busted, their pet had gotten ill. Every single person that was supposed to go suddenly couldn’t.

It was then that Wasp appeared again, his arms wrapping around you tightly from behind as he set his head on your shoulder. You knew it was him, what else could it be? How had he done all this? Wasn’t he trapped in the house? You tried to ask him how, why? But all he did was squeeze you tighter, his voice small, “Don’t leave me, you’re all that I have...”

Russian Wasp

He found you alone in the rain, your small form curled in on itself in an attempt to try and stay warm. An abandoned kitten shivering in the rain. He knew he wasn’t supposed to take you home, but, as you glanced up at him with such helpless eyes, he couldn’t stop himself.

There were so many safe houses, he knew it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he hid you in one, the Boss would never find out and the others didn’t even need to know you existed. You would just be there long enough to get healthy and get back on your feet. Or, at least that was the plan.

Your fever took a good few days to go away and you were so malnourished and tiny that he was terrified of leaving you alone - every chance he had to disappear and go back to you, that’s where he was. The others didn’t really ask, they were used to him going off on his own after all.

There was a bit of a language barrier between you, but his grasp on English was strong enough for him to translate a few things and you were so expressive you could practically mime what you needed to him. And the way that you would run up to him every time he appeared and practically threw yourself in his arms was so endearing his heart squeezed every single time

He called you “kotenok” and you took to responding to the name almost immediately, you didn’t know what it meant, but you knew it was his way of getting your attention, and the way he crooned the word as he pet your hair was nice

You knew you couldn’t just live there, hell, the fact he picked you up was a miracle in and of itself, he could have so easily been a creep or a serial killer or something, but he asked absolutely nothing from you. Physical contact was instigated by you and he was nothing if not respectful of your space. The one day he walked in while you were changing you thought he would implode from how hard he blushed and how profusely he apologized as he covered his eyes and all but ran away. It was strange, his appearance was intimidating, his stature, his size, his stern face, but he was as gentle as could be and surprisingly innocent.

The house itself was nice, food seemed to appear out of nowhere and when he was gone you had a full run of the place. You kept everything as clean as could be as thanks, but you knew you couldn’t mooch off of him for too much longer. You had to find a job and pay him back. But, the problem was that the house was in the middle of nowhere and you had absolutely no clue how to get back to civilization

You knew he wasn’t exactly human, had seen him warp in and out of existence, so there was no telling where you were. You could be halfway across the world for all you knew. You weren’t too upset at that, your previous home had been... well, you didn’t want to go back.

You didn’t know how to approach the conversation, hell, you had trouble speaking with him to begin with, but when he came back one night you square your shoulders and sat down next to him to try and talk.

“Um...” You didn’t even know his name, “Thank you for everything, you really saved my skin, but I can’t keep staying in here without repaying you in some way,” He tilted his head curiously and your heart sank, could he not have understood you at all?

“Oca.” ??? What did that even mean? “My name. Oca.” Oh. You told him your name and he gave a little nod in response, mouthing your name before he gave you a soft pat on the head, seeming to end the conversation there

Every time you tried to bring up the subject of leaving after that, something always got in the way or he would just give you that blank smile and pat your head

He was very welcoming of physical contact, it was an odd night when you didn’t end up in his lap, his cold hands soft and refreshing as he stroked your hair.

You were allowed out of the house, of course, but the dense woodlands and the snow kept you from really wandering too far, and usually Oca would be waiting for you to come back with something hot to drink and a blanket

He would leave presents for you, a new outfit, jewelry, toys, pretty little things that made him smile whenever he saw you with them. You liked his smile. Even if some of the stuff wasn’t really your style, you used it anyways just to see that proud gleam in his eyes

Did you even want to leave? Why would you? This was nice, being taken care of for the first time of your life was,,, well it took you time to get used to but you couldn’t deny that it was blissful.

Oca didn’t want anything from you, didn’t ask you to be anything but yourself, he gave you anything you could ever ask for without you having to lift so much as a finger.

He effortlessly trained you, and by the time he was tightening the collar around your neck, you didn’t even care.

Italian Wasp

You were Boss’ newest muse. They came and went with the decades, all of them beautiful in their own way and each with their interesting stories to tell, but there was something about you that made Wasp pause.

Was it the light in your eyes, your soft smile, your personality? There was something that made you so beautiful it just took his breath away - he didn’t understand how you could look down on yourself at all.

Boss brought you in to paint you, and like with all his muses he set up one of the clones as your bodyguard, associating with a don was risky business after all. It was just dumb luck that it was Wasp’s turn to be the bodyguard. He wasn’t complaining

You had some reservations, having a clone stuck to you all day watching over your every move was strange, but you let it be. Choosing to befriend Wasp instead of just fighting against him

Wasp was quiet, only speaking up when absolutely necessary, but he was good company. He listened to your stories attentively, and took notice of your likes and dislikes with ease. He had a sense of humor, you noticed. He didn’t laugh persay, but his lips would twitch into this tiny smile and his eyes would glitter with amusement - you considered it a small victory when you could get him to make that expression

He had his own artistic talent himself, you noticed. He had a tiny little sketchbook he kept in his jacket pocket. The one time you had gotten a good look at it, you noticed he drew mostly sceneries. So it was odd to wake up to him sitting by your side, his fingers black with coal as he sketched your sleeping expression.

He had been embarrassed at first, but when you asked him why he wouldn’t just ask you - you were being painted by Gio every other day after all, you clearly had no problem being someone’s model, he grew more bold with his drawing

You filled up his sketchbook, your smile, your eyes, the curve of your hips, the graceful lines of your body. You were dazzling, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t make the drawings capture just how beautiful you were

It frustrated him. Boss’ painting was getting better and better by the day, boss captured your expression, the light in your eyes, the swell of your curves.

He thought to himself if he could touch you, he could get a better handle on how to draw you - though there was a great amount of hesitation before he could work up the courage to actually ask you. You said yes almost too quickly, he almost choked at how swiftly you gave him permission. You had to take his hands in yours and pull it up to your face. The charcoal on his fingers smudged against your cheeks, following his fingers. His thumb over your cheekbone, over your lower lip, his knuckles along the length of your chin, to your neck. He wasn’t sure when he had leaned in, but the next thing he knew, he was kissing you

You made a soft sound into the kiss, pressing up against him. Later you would find smudges of charcoal over your body. On your hips where he had grabbed almost too tightly, your neck, your thighs, your wrists, your back, a map of everywhere he had touched you. His kiss had you coming back for more, again, and again

Gio had frowned when you missed one of the smudges, glancing to his clone disapprovingly. Clones weren’t supposed to get with the models they were protecting - how had he not noticed the look Wasp was giving you? The barely hidden hunger, the desire, the admiration. How long had this been going on? When he was distracted by this useless infatuation, he wouldn’t be doing his job. Clearly this had to be rectified

instead of just one clone watching over you, they started taking shifts. You weren’t allowed to see Wasp anymore and no matter who you asked, you weren’t allowed to even know where he went.

You liked the other clones, sure, Jazz was a bit of a bully - he constantly picked fun at you for managing to ‘seduce’ Wasp, Cici liked to change into monsters to scare you, Lex didn’t talk to you at all, Bee and Ren were the nicest, but Bee reminded you too much of Wasp... you missed him

The painting was almost done, Gio didn’t really had much of a need for you anymore and you were brought in less and less - you knew your time as a muse was coming to an end, you just had to find Wasp before it was too late.

Dodging your bodyguard was almost too easy, especially in the manor. They honestly didn’t care too much now that your time as a muse was almost over. It let you wander the halls and search for any sign of wasp

You called his name softly, listening to the quiet halls for anything - time was almost up, they would notice you slipped away. You had to hurry.

There was a door without a handle, thick and solid, but something drew you to it. You rested your hand against the cool door and whispered his name once more - there was a soft noise on the other side, a thud as he pressed against the door. “How do we get you out of here?” You looked around, wondering how you were to get him out.

There came another thud, harder this time, the door shook with the force of it. Another, the hinges rocked. Another, the door cracked slightly in the middle. You drew back just in time for the door to shatter, Wasp breathing hard, his arm bleeding and hanging limply at his side.

You didn’t have much time, you had to get him out of here quickly, so took his hand in yours and pulled him against you tight. “You’ve got to warp us out of here. Take me home.” You urged. He struggled to draw in enough energy, but he nodded and the world went dark around you 9

[cdelphiki]

Bruce woke to the sound of a page turning. The harsh scrape of paper against cloth as whoever the culprit was didn’t lift the book high enough to avoid his own shirt grating against the headache currently occupying most of Bruce’s attention. 

His pillow was the next thing he noticed. Never had he felt a pillow so hard. Was it made of concrete? He was fairly certain it was. The bed under his body was softer than the pillow. It was not helping the headache at all.

Why’d his head even hurt? He’d never had a headache like this before. It felt like someone had hit him with a baseball bat. 

And… oh. 

Last night.

 That was what had happened.

Scraping from his left started again, so he dared to crack and eye open and see what was creating the noise. Was Dick home? Alfred would never be so noisy while reading. 

The light was excruciating. Even though he could tell the lamps were dimmed to the lowest setting. And his vision took a good several seconds to clear enough for him to see, but eventually he made out the figure of Jason. His precious Jason. Engrossed in a book, sitting right next to him in bed. 

That was good. 

Odd, for some reason. But good. He loved Jason. It was nice he was hanging out in Bruce’s room.

Was that what was so odd? Jason had been with him for months now. Six? No, eight. Eight months. And he’d never been in Bruce’s room. Bruce had no idea how to fully gain his trust. Or if he’d ever be able to. Jason was such a skittish kid. That was okay. Bruce would go at Jason’s pace. Jason deserved caretakers who loved and respected him and his boundaries. 

He just wished Jason could trust that Bruce would never hurt him. He’d loved him pretty much from the moment he first saw him. He could never hurt his own son.

“Hey old man,” Jason said, his voice a gentle murmur. It still caused a spike of pain, almost as bad as the lights had, but the pain was worth the warmth in his chest. “I heard you pulled a muscle trying to stand up.”

Why would….? Oh. Because he was ‘old.’ He was only 30, for God’s sake. Why did his kids think he was old?

“Something like that,” he mumbled, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Jason was so cute. A cracked skull was just like pulling a muscle. Exactly the same. Just came along with Superman panicky arriving on scene and Bruce blacking out before Clark could say “I’ve got you.” 

Thank God for Clark. Not that he’d ever tell the man that. It’s a little insulting he’s been listening in more since Dick left. Bruce really doesn’t need a babysitter. Or a partner. He’s fine out there on his own.

Except when he’s not. But it wasn’t his fault some goon snuck up behind him and hit him with a bat. Really, he was occupied with the four in front of him. 

But Bruce couldn’t deny it was good Clark was there. Because had he not been, the bat that cracked his skull likely would have killed him. He couldn’t get killed. Jason needed him. 

“Do you know what year it is?” Jason asked, and Bruce smiled fully.

“We already know I have a concussion. No need to do a check.” 

“Pfft,” Jason said, and Bruce could hear how he’d blown a puff of air into his bangs. That was such a cute habit of his. Bruce kind of hoped he never cut his hair shorter so he’d never stop. “Fine. Just wanted to make sure you knew where you were n’stuff.”

Bruce opened his eyes again and looked over at Jason. He’d set his book down, and was now hugging onto his knees, his head resting in his arms as he stared at Bruce. “Hi, Jason,” he said, hoping to reassure his son that he did, in fact, know where he was and what was happening. 

“Hey,” Jason exhaled, and Bruce could see the tension bleed right out of his shoulders and he slumped down a little more. 

“You’re in here by yourself?” he asked, remembering why this was all weird. Jason never had a problem being alone with Bruce, but never this close. Never this intimately. And never in his bedroom. 

“Yeah, what of it? Want me to leave?” 

Bruce had shut his eyes again, so he could only hear the way Jason closed back up again. Like he thought Bruce didn’t want him around. 

How could Bruce not want Jason around? Jason was great. Didn’t he know that?

“No,” he nearly hummed, shifting his head and immediately regretting it. The concrete beneath his head did not give way, and the entirety of his skull felt like it was on fire for a brief second. One the pain subsided, he added, “You just never come in here. I thought you didn’t trust me.”

Jason was quiet for a bit after that. So long, in fact, Bruce would have assumed he left. But he could hear Jason’s breathing, still, and knew he was still sitting right next to him. Hugging his knees and everything. He almost turned to look at Jason again, but he finally spoke up.

“Well I do.”

And there was the warmth again. So much of it. He wanted to cry, from the intensity of it, actually. But that would likely make his head worse. Crying always make his head hurt, just naturally. He didn’t want to fell what it was like to have a migraine and crying headache at the same time. 

“I love you, Jay,” he mumbled, instead, “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered, the slight rasp to his voice grating on Bruce’s ears. If he thought he could move much, he would have dragged Jason to his side for that rasp. But the thought of moving even his arm made his head hurt more. 

“Good,” he said, relaxing a little. Because at least Jason knew. “So much.” 

“You must be feeling pretty bad,” Jason said, shifting around enough that the bed springs squeaked. 

Once Bruce’s world stopped spinning, he grunted. Because he felt like shit, and there was no use in lying to Jay. He’d see right through him.

“You really need backup out there, B,” Jason said, and this was definitely not a conversation he was up for having. He and Jason had argued so many times now over whether Jason could go out. Bruce didn’t have the energy for that. He almost never had the energy for it.

“Can we talk about that later? My head hurts a little.” 

Jason laughed, mostly under his breath, before he said, “No shit. Does me talking make it worse?”

“No,” he lied. It made it a lot worse. But Jason not talking made his heart hurt. 

“You’re lying.”

“Mm,” Bruce hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. But he did add, “I like hearing your voice.” 

“You’re still lying,” Jason said, but now Bruce could hear the smile. If he opened his eyes, he’d probably see bright red cheeks, too. 

“I do. It reminds me that you’re here. I’m so happy you’re here,” he said, feeling himself get choked up again. He took a deep breath, to center himself, then finished, “Sometimes I wonder where you’d be if you weren’t here and I can’t bear it. I love you so much. I can’t imagine life without you.” 

“Man, you really are messed up in the head,” Jason said, but again, Bruce could hear the smile. 

He wished he had the energy to sit up and hug Jason. That was something Jason could always use more of. Bruce was pretty sure his dad had never hugged him. Not much, at least. Kids needed hugs. 

And, yeah. He could see the ‘messed up in the head.’ Concussions had always made him a little on the emotional side. Usually it’s Dick or Alfred dealing with them. This would be Jason’s first. “It’s still true.” 

Jason was quiet after that. For so long, in fact, Bruce started to nod off. Not that it would take much to do so. He estimated he only had a few more minutes of consciousness, anyway. 

But he startled, a little, when Jason started moving again, and stilled when his left arm was lifted into the air. Jason slipped under the arm and rested back against Bruce’s side, effectively using his side as a pillow, then settled Bruce’s arm back down around him. 

Bruce tightened his arm around Jason’s chest a little, hopefully conveying everything his words could not. 

“Does this hurt?” Jason asked, tugging a blanket over himself it felt like. It covered Bruce’s arm, too, which was nice. His hand had been getting cold. 

“No.” It was the opposite of hurt. The moving jarred his head a little, but he’d live. Having Jason in his arm was going to help him sleep so deeply, he just knew it. 

He’d always gotten the best sleep on the nights Dick came to him for comfort after nightmares. Something about having a child—his child—in his arms just made everything else in the world melt away. No fear or anxieties or worries to keep him up. Just him and his precious son. 

Now he had two sons. Maybe sometime soon he’d have both of them at the same time. That… that would make him very happy. 

“Go to sleep, old man,” Jason murmured, as he opened his book again. He rested his arms over Bruce’s, and Bruce could hear the pages scrape against the blanket draped over them. “Doctor Alfred says you need to rest for a few days. Can’t have you getting stupider from this.” 

“Did he say that?” Bruce asked, but his voice was far too amused. Totally missed the faux hurt he had been going for. 

“He did. In those exact words.” 

“Hmm. You’re a brat, you know?”

“I know,” Jason said, and all Bruce wanted to do was give him a kiss on the forehead. But sitting up would ruin this position they held. He’d much rather get to hold Jason for a while. Even if the boy would probably leave long before Bruce woke again, at least he’d have these few minutes. 

He settled for squeezing him a little tighter again, then relaxed to the cadence of Jason’s page turning. The blanket didn’t scrape nearly as bad as Jason’s shirt had, after all. Plus, the warm weight of his son pressing against his side was very grounding. A good something to focus on, to help tune out the blaring that was his head. 

And just as he was drifting off to sleep, the soundless void that was unconsciousness lulling him toward it, he just heard Jason say, “I love you, too.” 

Bruce was a little happy he’d got hit in the head. 

[stusbunker]

A New Normal

For Better or Worst: Chapter Two

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

OCs: Emery’s TAs Penelope, Hector, Morgan and Jasper.

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 3382

Summary: The new couple completes their soul oaths and reality sinks in. A different kind of life awaits them, together.

Warnings: Could be considered dub!con smut, but the intention and consent is clear. Hints of infertility. This is the longest chapter for a while. xoxo

Read Chapter One First!

^*^*^

“And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.“ Colossians 3:14

Wedding Night

              There had been no cocktail hour or reception. Once Sam had kissed Emery and they signed the marriage license, with the organist and caretaker as witnesses, they simply gathered their things and went home. Bandit was somehow waiting for them in the backyard, which was perfectly fenced for pets and privacy. The bungalow Sam had woken in, was a three bedroom, with plenty of space for both of them to feel comfortable. They changed out of their formal wear, separately, and went out to eat, each insisting the other pick the cuisine. Sam drove, which was still an adjustment for him, but it allowed Emery to search for restaurants. He kept glancing over at her, a weird feeling of satisfaction flowing through him as he watched her. She was smart and beautiful, and she was his.

              It was a bit of a head rush for her, to be honest. Emery hadn’t been in a relationship in years and suddenly she was seated beside her tall husband with his long hair and five o’clock shadow debating about what to have as their first meal together. Who wouldn’t be slightly frazzled?

              “Okay, we’re just going to find the closest place, and if it’s packed, we’ll go to the next one,” Emery announced as they chewed over their options. Sam had pulled over because he was driving in circles and didn’t know how to navigate the downtown quite yet.

              Sam smiled and nodded, bottom lip popping out in consideration. “Sounds good.”

              They found an Asian fusion place on 6th, it was barely four in the afternoon and therefore nearly empty. They got a table near the windows and took turns people watching. The older waiter smiled knowingly at the fumbling pair. “First date?”

              “Uh, yeah,” Sam chomped his teeth in chagrin.

              “Shut up Sam,” Emery corrected him. “It’s our wedding night, don’t listen to him.”

The waiter laughed, patting her hand. “We take good care of you. Congrats.” He had a bottle of Sake delivered, on the house, before the appetizer arrived. Emery toasted Sam and he raised his eyebrows just before she downed her entire glass, winking at his frozen face.

Emery had gotten comfortable on the ride home, resting her hand on Sam’s thigh and head on his shoulder, despite the space between seats in their hybrid. He felt tight around the collar and kept turning the defrost on and off, the winter air fighting against his growing body heat. He killed the engine, and waited for her to move first, but she just looked up at him, a tipsy smile breaking apart her soft features.

“Hey, so,” she inhaled over her bottom lip before continuing. “Um, I think we have to, ya know. For everything to be official. And, it’s—it’s been a real long time. And I know I just met you and we’re married. Yay! But also, scary—you know?!”

Sam nodded, letting her ramble, taking her hand from his lap, brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Emery? It’s okay. I’m not going to put any pressure on you, besides the whole wrath of heaven thing—” Sam smirked, before he pulled their hands over his heart. “I swear.”

She sighed, face falling nearly into a full swoon before she leaned up and kissed him. Lips slipping before Sam caught her and pulled her closer. Bandit, naturally, broke the moment, barking as a pedestrian crossed behind them where the sidewalk met their driveway. The newlyweds broke apart with a shared chuckle. ­­­­­­­­­­­

Later on, after overthinking, some feet dragging, and a skin care regimen more detailed than she had ever attempted, Emery walked into the bedroom. Sam was stretched out, above the covers, on what was quite possibly the largest bed she had ever seen in person. He wore a plain gray tee shirt and matching black and gray pajama pants, while nose deep in a read-worn hardback with one arm crooked behind his head. Emery herself had gone causal as well, forgoing the lingerie set that was not so subtly hanging in her side of the closet, instead she chose a simple oversized shirt that fell to her mid-thigh.

In all fairness, the delay and Emery’s nervousness wasn’t because she was self-conscious; it was just a lot of pressure. She took a deep breath, and another for courage.

“Hey—” Sam’s voice, still fresh to her ears, but reassuring all the same.

“Hey back,” Emery slipped forward, slow and steady, looking down her nose at his book.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m sort of used to the left side?” Sam sat up, setting the book on his side table. Emery chuckled as she plopped down onto the cushioning bed top, curling on her side to face her husband, head propped up by an elbow.

“This bed is humongous, I don’t think I’ll even notice you there,” she fell back, kicking out her hands and feet. Suddenly she brushed reaching fingers, threading together in centering connection. She pulled Sam over in mock tug-of-war.

“I think you’re gonna notice I’m here,” Sam countered, eyebrows pitching suggestively.

“Is that so? Oh no, do you snore?!” Emery accused.

“No, at least I don’t think so,” Sam laughed, brushing her bangs back as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Don’t usually sleep that deeply anyway.”

“Yeah, sleep is overrated,” Emery agreed, eyes locking onto his shadowed hazels, a near mirror of her own. The quiet of the house echoed their conversation, hushed and buzzing, she wasn’t sure what was felt or heard, it was, just building.

“Tell me about it,” Sam whispered as he took her face in his broad palms, mouth claiming hers in hungered culmination. It was a calm tide, shifting and adjusting as they learned and shared one another. Her soft hands roamed his chest, sending chills as she smoothed over his tattoo. Soon, Emery was straddling Sam, her clothed heat stoking his desire with each gentle roll of her hips. She purred appreciatively as he nipped down her neck, mouth latching over her dark nipple. Memories flooded her, and she shook them away, hours of exhaustion and desperation with her son at her breast. Thoughts that would do her no good in the here and now.

Emery slid back to the comforter, pulling Sam’s shoulder with her, hoping he’d take over. He did, gladly. His hands quickly freed them of the last of their pajamas. Rough fingers smoothing over her tawny thighs.

“Do we need—” Sam started, but she shook her head almost regretfully.

“No, I can’t- it’s okay. We’re fine,” Emery answered without explaining.

“Well, okay, then.” Sam kissed her again, letting his tongue dance away from hers until she was writhing underneath him, knuckles barely brushing her folds. Sam noted every quake and quiver, wanting her ready. Needing her wanting.

The waves pitched and they moved to keep up, with each other and inevitability. Sam dragged his teeth down the valley of her chest, tasting the salty spice of her skin before diving into her heady juices. He teased her hood with the tip of his nose, tongue flicking out, drawing the most sinful exaltations from her. He worked her open, learning her body, bare and blemished with untold stories, yet perfect all the same. Once he added a third finger, she started to retaliate, carding her fingers through Sam’s hair as she nearly sat up, bending with the blossoming pleasure.

“Sam. Saaaaaamm. Sam!” Emery demanded.

“Not yet, Baby, you’re so close,” he shushed her, nuzzling into her thigh before returning with impossibly slow and wide strokes of that tongue. That damned tongue. He was right, but she didn’t know how she could get it out, let it go, or reach it. Everything ached with intensity, and as soon as one would snuff out a match, she barreled down that hill. Sam’s lips and fingers pushing her over and through as heat and sound merged into thought ending euphoria. Sam crawled back up his wife’s body, her blissed out and thoroughly worked over body.

“Oh, I could get used to that,” Emery giggled, kissing him firmly, before breaking off into a pleased groan. Her knees notched around Sam’s waist, as she played with his hair, a mixture of mischief and pride pulling at his features.

“It’ll be even better next time; I’m a fast learner,” Sam reassured her, and probably himself. She couldn’t imagine the learning curve after that presentation. He slowly laced himself with her desire, hard and ready at her core. This was their final hurtle, the last promise, the bow on the knot of their deals. Sam kissed Emery’s cheek, and eased inside her, the sizzling pressure, hot and tight over every inch of him. She whimpered and Sam froze, waiting for her to look back at him. The briefest flash of gold circled her pupil as she locked onto his stare. She saw a similar gilded magic “C” cord through the inside of Sam’s multifaceted irises, knowing it was done. They were permanently bonded, body and soul.

“Wow,” Emery gasped, a breath more than a whisper.

“Yeah?” Sam grinned, breaking the awe with a chest deep laugh before getting to work.

“Yeah,” Emery answered, pulling her knees back, giving Sam depth and space. He braced a hand over her shoulder, keeping her bent beneath him and he hammered into her. Her smooth wetness making his blood sing. The sweat beaded on his neck, his lower back and down his tummy, every inch of him flushed with effort and pleasure. Sam groaned as his balls hitched, he exhaled trying to hold out. He slowed his thrusts, meat of his hand falling over her mound. Emery bucked against the weight of his hand, earning a calculated shove back, losing her balance, her legs fell back down.

They broke apart, electric and panting. Emery rolled to her knees, as Sam’s hands found the delicate catch of her love handles, centering himself. He filled her this way, deep and fast, chest to back, palm over hand. Trembling and overwhelmed, the pair crashed forward. Sam’s solid weight just enough pressure to keep Emery alert, to balance the aftershocks. With the satisfying wedge of his fingers through hers, they drifted off. Naked and bound.

              Magic comes with a cost and a spell that binds one being to another, soul deep and unwavering takes an immense amount of energy. Energy that the casters didn’t have to spare, therefore the newlyweds woke a day later than they expected to. Sam groaned and rolled away from the cool fingers splayed across his chest. He felt his brain thud through his head like a marble in a maze, his every joint ached. Everything came rushing back like every whiskey fueled night rolled into one debilitating hangover and subsequent walk of shame.

Sam met Bandit in the kitchen, doing a double take before the inquisitive boy approached to sniff him out. This should have been the reassurance Sam needed, but his natural instincts left him to distrust the entire situation. Even the affection of a good dog was more than he was used to and therefore something to take with a grain of salt. Sam let the dog out and walked the yard, ensuring the fence would keep the dog in without a leash. Their breaths puffs against the biting chill in the dawn air. Sam was happy they weren’t going to have to keep him penned inside when they went to work.

Work; Sam Winchester had a job waiting for him Monday morning. He was going to be in the archives of the local college, which he was oddly grateful for, familiar toils in an unfamiliar setting was better than nothing. He made his way to the blessed coffee pot, his stomach growled, and he replied under his breath, “yeah, yeah.”

Upstairs Emery stared at the ceiling, the morning light casting streaks of color through the accent windows that met in the corner of their room. Their, shared, as in both hers and his. She had a roommate, an actual partner, a husband now. This deal was as complicated as it could get. The reassurance of the angelic influence had run dry; she felt very much trapped. And ashamed. She shuffled into the adjoining bath and tossed her pajamas into the hamper. The massive shower tried to make amends for the drain on her soul and resolve, jets coming from the walls at amazing angles, hot water pelting against her exhausted body. Her hands brushed past the places where Sam had held her, pinned her, pleased her. She knew it was a means to an end, sealing a deal and starting fresh. But Emery needed this to work. She had to go forward doing good with her life, otherwise, everything, every choice and every memory was all in vain. She finished her shower and decided to make breakfast, everyday needed a solid foundation. Every agreement needed a stepping off point.

Two Months Later

              Emery dragged her feet on Thursdays. She had office hours starting at ten, otherwise nothing until her one and three o’clock lectures. Sam never did, he was up at six like always. Bandit loved the early mornings jogs and Emery liked taking over Sam’s side of the bed. The weather had finally turned into a promising spring, bringing damp feet and panting breaths home with her two boys. Well, two of her boys. She lay in the cocoon of blankets as she heard them in the kitchen. Soon Sam would be back to wake her up, sweaty and insistent. She kept her eyes shut tight, waiting for her good morning kisses.

              “You are such a faker,” he teased, falling to her hip, caging her in with his arms.

              “Five more minutes,” she pleaded, turning her face into the mound of pillows.

              “Let’s go Doctor Simmons, you have students to teacher,” Sam ruffled her hair, earning himself a good swat.

              “Hey, that’s Simmons-Winchester to you, punk,” Emery sassed, finally facing Sam. He had leaned in, hovering with a look of an unexpected tenderness.

              His deep voice came out in a breathy whisper, “if you get up now, we can share a shower.” The hairs on the back of Emery’s neck stood up at his offer, heart beating just a hint faster. Something had shifted in the past few weeks; they had become cohesive, and as insatiable as true newlyweds. Most importantly: Emery felt that Sam had started to truly trust her, and she had started to lean on him in return.

              She raised her eyebrows as she replied, “you just want me to shave your back.”

              Sam chuckled. “Guilty— it’s just so much—” Sam broke off, “you know what, never mind.” He gave her a sad smile and squeezed her thigh through the comforter before standing to head to the bathroom.

              “Whoa, hey, what are you hiding Mister?!” Emery threw the covers back and chased after him, giggling as he turned and scooped her up by the legs, strutting into the bathroom before kicking the door closed.

              “Your nails, I love feeling them, and it’s not the same if I’m all wolfish,” Sam whispered into Emery’s ear, feeling her shiver from the stimulus. He loved watching her react to his every tease and taunt.

              She groaned, grabbing his face in both her hands. “Fine! Asshole. But you better make it worth it.” She was pointing a finger at his agreeing puppy dog face now.

              “Don’t I always?” Sam challenged, walking straight into the shower stall, fully clothed and dropping Emery in a huff on the cold tile.

              Emery arrived at her first lecture a mere ten minutes early, greeting her TA’s as they sorted through last week’s essays to return. One of her freshmen had kept her hostage with worry over their coming midterm exam.  She tried to placate the overachiever, but school was still life or death to these kids, if only they knew what those terms truly meant. She felt a tension in the air and tried to sense what was going on amongst the grad students, but unfortunately, she had given up that ability in pursuit of her deal with Naomi. Instead, she went for the obvious.

              “So, what’s going on guys?” Her smoky voice catching their attentions.

              “Papers. Just alphabetizing papers,” Jasper replied, overenthusiastically. Emery gave him a knowing look, gauging the other three’s sheepish expressions more harshly.

              “Sure, okay, but apparently Morgan and Penelope are on the outs? Is that what’s going on? Because it’s not the time or place for your personal drama.”

              “Sorry, Dr. Sim-Win, it’s just—” Penelope implored. Emery held up her hands silencing the blonde before she got the full run down.

              “I have the spreadsheets with the grades here, why don’t you post them for me, Hector?” Emery gave the remaining TA’s a cool stare before walking to the lectern as the undergrads started trickling into the hall in a post lunch haze.

              It was Sam’s turn to cook, allowing Emery to take her time at school, going over her notes for an inter-departmental meeting the next morning. Joining the school for the spring semester left her jumping through hoops to catch up and network. It was hard learning everyone and everything over from her previous position, luckily the material she taught rarely changed; the blessing of being a History professor. Sam usually worked until six, even though most of his team left on five on the dot, no questions asked. He told her he liked being alone with the stacks, the quiet was comforting.

She checked her watch before closing the spreadsheet she had been zoning out over and headed down to the library that housed the archives. She had started parking in the lot on the far end of campus, even on days when they didn’t drive in together. It was an easy routine and it kept her from circling campus trying to remember where she had parked. Not that she would do such an airheaded thing, more than twice. There were only a handful of faculty cars remaining as she pulled out of her spot, hoping Sam had enough of a head start on dinner; she was famished.

              Bandit greeted Emery at the backdoor, barking over the music Sam had blaring through the house. She left her stuff in the breezeway and snagged the leash before settling in.

              “Hey, fifteen minutes tops!” Sam called over his shoulder. She gave him an answering wave as the dog dragged her back outside, the lingering spices had her stomach growling. The music had been turned down and the table set by the time Bandit had let Emery drag him home. They ate themselves stuffed; the meal was a Jambalaya-like concoction with homemade bread. Sam had enjoyed cooking in a way he never had before, because on some level he was still used to being on the receiving end of a homecooked meal. It was nice to be able to experiment with the cuisine, besides, Emery only had about a three-meal repertoire.

              Later on, the couple sat in bed, watching their latest show on their wall mounted flat screen. Bandit curled at their feet until it was time for light’s out, when Sam would let him out one last time. In the interim, Sam checked the windows and doors, ensured there were guns accessible on every level of the house, though he wasn’t sure he would fire one if he had to. As soon as the dog was back inside, Sam set the alarm. Upstairs, he soon shut the bedroom door, leaving Bandit alone to roam the house.

              Emery snuggled against his chest and sighed in an exaggerated contentment, lips drawing up in a mischievous smile. Sam kissed her hair and shook his head at her intentions, smirking knowingly.

              “We’re in this together, for better or worse,” she promised, like she had the past sixty-odd nights.

              “For better or worse,” Sam agreed with a goodnight kiss. As he lay there in the darkness, feeling her shift against him, he was stunned by the comfort and ease he felt with Emery. He didn’t know what he would do without her now and he certainly didn’t know what he did without her before.

^*^*^

Read On: Below the Surface and in the Wild

[kunoichi-ume]

May Drabbles, Day 15

Prompt: awake without them (Anticipation)

Characters: Jedi Dina Volezz and Sith Prince Ari Drellik (who belongs to @cinlat who made the beautiful banner)

Word Count: 1536

Dina pulled her knees to her chest as she huddled against the headboard of her bed. It was late, enough that everyone else was asleep. During the day it was hard to imagine the Zakuulian palace ever being silent, between the constant guard shifts, the twins’ antics and the sounds of someone training – because there was always someone training – the background of the palace was a constant source of the white noise that comforted her so.

Then night would come, and everything seemed to stop. The guard changes were quieter and the large, eclectic royal family retired for the night.

On nights like tonight it was torture. The silence. It was like going back to those dark days when her world was defined by silence, by her inability to communicate with anyone. Days when her mother would shove her away if she approached her and father’s eyes glanced over her like she didn’t exist. The only comfort in her life was her big sister, Rasiel, who comforted her when she was hurt and snuck her medications when she was sick.

The older girl had even tried to teach her to read, but that was mostly a lost cause until she got her hearing implants. After leaving their parent’s home, Rasiel had almost never left her side. She alone knew how the silence terrified Dina.

Even Ari didn’t know how these nights weighed on her. Until Rasiel had moved into Nuada’s room recently, they had shared one, so she could fall asleep to the sound of her sister’s breathing. It was a reassuring sound, one reminding her that she wasn’t trapped in that soundless hell and that she wasn’t alone.

Tracing her finger in mindless circles on her kneecap, Dina hummed softly. The sound of her own voice was the best she could do at the moment, unless she wanted to sneak out of the palace. It was tempting and if she didn’t have one of her fevers she might have. Instead she was restricted to her bed, in a room far too large for one person, in a palace that sounded like a graveyard.

“Why’d you have to move out Ras?” She whispered in the darkness, even though she knew exactly why. Her sister loved the crown prince, they were even speaking of marriage. It wasn’t fair to continue to cling to her anymore. Their entire lives Ras had been the responsible one, the strong one, the one that made sure they had a place to sleep and food to eat.

Then there were the countless times she had tended to Dina while she was sick. When the doctors found her heart problems and the poor condition of her health was finally discovered to be birth defects from alcohol. Their mother drank like an Imperial sailor and being pregnant with her second child hadn’t stopped her from reaching for a bottle at every opportunity.

A sob worked its way up her throat as she realized this was her future. Ras wouldn’t share a room with her again, not as a married woman – and that was one sound she did not need to hear no matter her fears – and for almost half of every day cycle on Zakuul she would drown in silent misery.

Pushing her loose hair out of the way, Dina cupped her ears angrily. “Why couldn’t you just work,” she snarled into the stillness, both venting her frustration and soothing her paranoia, “why even grow ears if they won’t do anything?”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she shook, her quiet sobs deafening against the silence around her. She wanted, desperately, to go to her sister and take whatever comfort she could get, but it would be selfish to wake her. Dina had even temporarily blocked their force bond as soon as she felt Ras fall asleep, a habit she had picked up in the first few days since the room change occurred. She was determined to stop holding her older sister back from having her own life.

Another ragged sob escaped her a moment before she heard a knock on her door and froze.

“Dina?” She squeaked when Ari’s muffled voice came through the door. “Are you awake?”

Slowly, Dina unfolded her legs and pushed herself off the bed. The room spun slightly as she came to her feet and she braced herself against the bedpost for a moment before making her way to the door. Stopping to make sure her hair was covering her ears, she opened it slowly, she peeked out to see outside her room.

“Oh Dina, do you have a fever again?”

While him immediately knowing she was sick was disheartening, she must look a mess, the genuine concern in his voice made her smile. It was still such a novelty, hearing that in another voice besides her sister’s. “It’s just a mild one,”

Placing his hand against the door, Ari slowly pushed it open further so he could cup her cheek with his other hand. Brushing her tears away with his thumb, he frowned, “then why were you crying?”

“It’s nothing,” Dina said with a sigh as she stepped away from the door. Hit by a sudden wave of dizziness, she stumbled, and Ari caught her.

“Alright, let’s get you back to bed sweetie.” Supporting her with an arm around her waist, Ari helped her back across the room to her bed. Once he had her lying back down, properly on the fluffy pillows and covered in a warm blanket, he sat on the side of the bed next to her. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Sniffing, Dina turned her head away from him. “It’s really not important.”

“Hey now,” Ari said softly, lying down on his side next to her and turning her face to look at him, “anything that can make you cry is important to me.”

Dina wasn’t sure if it was her fever or her heart condition, but she could have sworn her pulse skipped a beat at his words. She hadn’t wanted to bother anyone else with her problems, but when he looked at her with those beautiful green eyes, she couldn’t deny him. “It’s too quiet,” she said, “it’s like before, when there was no sound.”

Ari frowned, “it was pretty bad back then wasn’t it?”

With how little she had told him about her childhood, she couldn’t blame him for asking. She was ashamed of how much those days affected her still and telling someone who grew up loved and cherished that her parents hated her? That she was definitely not brave enough to do.

Wiping away the fresh tear on her cheek, Ari leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry.”

Dina caught his hand, lacing her fingers between his, and smiled softly. “Please don’t apologize for those people, you’re nothing like them.”

“Good, I’d hate to make you feel like that. So, silence is hard to deal with?”

“I know it’s silly,” Dina sighed, turning her head to stare at the ceiling, “it’s just so hard not to be scared. Implants are imperfect, you know? Someday these are going to stop working and my world is going to be silent again.”

“Dina look at me,” Ari said, waiting until she turned her face down to meet his gaze. “I swear to you, that is not going to happen. If something happens to your implants, we will get them repaired or replaced. Zakuul has the best medical tech in the galaxy, I want to take care of you. Just let me.”

“Thank you, Ari,” Dina smiled softly even while her heart hurt. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate and adore him for what he said, and even more so because she believed him, but just once she wanted to be strong enough not to be a burden on the few people she loved. She was such a mess that Ras was just barely starting to have a life that didn’t revolve around her little sister and now it was like that caretaker position was being foisted onto him.

Fingers carding gently through her hair brought her thoughts back to the moment, to the feel of Ari’s weight on the bed next to her and – most importantly – to the gentle sound of his breathing. It was a soft, comforting sound and filled the silence and settled her nerves.

Dina didn’t want to spend her whole life relying on others, but maybe it would be okay just for tonight. Scooting closer, she wrapped her arm around his waist. “Would you stay with me? I can’t sleep in the silence.”

“I can stay,” he answered right away, before frowning, “has it like that every night? Not sleeping I mean?”

“Since Ras moved out,” Dina nodded, head laid against his chest where she could listen to his heartbeat, “being able to hear her breathing helps.”

Ari wrapped his arms around her and settled more comfortably in the bed. “We can’t have that, not sleeping is going to keep you sick,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “According to Nuada I can even promise to snore in your ear.”

Dina smiled at the thought, “that sounds perfect.”

[sphairais]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum Additional Tags: Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Kissing, Caretaking, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Feels Summary:

It was no rookie mistake that he found himself between a rock and a hard place.. He ended up there of his own volition and if he could have it, he would die if it meant the safety of dearest friend and comrade.

Fear.

That was all Noctis could remember at the very moment when a set of claws dug deeply into his back, dragging downwards and effectively tearing through the fabric as well as into flesh and muscle. Whatever semblance of arrogance or cockiness was gone, now replaced with panic and pain as the claws seemed to both set his nerves ablaze and corrode them all at once.

Noctis slipped up, made a tragic mistake of luring the hulking beast away from the others and now.. Well now, he was trapped between a rock and a rather large and enraged Behemoth and much to his misfortune, he was out of potions. He would die here, a once crown prince who'd soon be nothing more than bits of severed limbs and flesh and the world would be unaware.  The royal line would end at him and there would be no wedding, no saving Insomnia, the crystal nor stopping Niflheim.

Whatever magic he had was thoroughly drained from him during the fight and escape, most of it had been spent on healing his already battered limbs and yet here he was, staring down the beast as if he still had a chance.

"Noct!"

 It had been two incredibly long and stressful weeks since the incident near Hammerhead. While Noctis lay asleep most of the time, the others were careful to keep an eye on his condition. The chores had been divided up evenly, Prompto would tend to playing the role of nurse and aid Ignis in administering medicine while Gladio was tasked with gathering food and medicine from any nearby shops and towns thanks to a list provided by Ignis. Prompto could recall when Noct awoke, how he chuckled at the complaints of numb legs as well as a throbbing headache likely caused by both lingering pain and the eager and excited shouting from the blond. He had healed decently with the exception of a pair of now dark brown scars that decorated his back and the occasional slip up every so often.

Noctis barely remembered the time he spent healing much less the time he spent awake during those two weeks. Everything had seemed so hazy and words were now distant whispers that he could barely recall and yet it seemed vivid.. He could recall Ignis laying waste to the behemoth in a flurry of fire and lightning magic just seconds before collapsing as well as Gladio holding him while Prompto and Ignis both kept watchful eyes on him; Prompto seeming panicked, his face full of dread at what seemed to be the mention of blood loss while Ignis reassured the two that they would handle it. Intense pain seemed to flood his senses keeping him awake and exhausting him completely as  the wounds were tended to. The most vivid memories seemed to all revolve Ignis, who had spent most of his time by his side disinfecting and bandaging the wounds all while reassuring him that the worst was done with. Whatever pain filled pleas and whines the prince had to offer against the sting of disinfectant or stitchings often went ignored but in the end, he was rewarded for his tenacity with soothing words as well as a hand delicately combing through his black hair. He could recall the few times he awoke, still hazy and barely focusing, to the sight of Ignis beside him, keeping careful watch over him and holding his hand and gently running his thumb along the lines of his palm. All too often he awoke to find Ignis close by, either awake or asleep and times he spent awake, he spent them telling Noctis about the day and how Prompto had suggested buying some sort of cake or maybe flowers while shopping with Gladio.

"Noct, you alright?" Prompto pulled him out of his thoughts all while carefully wrapping an arm around the other should he collapse again.  They had spent the last few days trying to get Noct back into at least functioning form through short treks around the camp. "Oh no, are you asleep again?" Prompto complained, his free hand now reaching over to give Noctis a few light and playful slaps on the cheek and earning him a groan of disapproval and slight annoyance. "Do I need to get Gladio to carry you again? Oh! I know, maybe I'll get Iggy to take care of you and wake you up again! I think he said something about you liking it after all and-." He stopped, feeling the Noct's foot on top of his own and gradually adding pressure and now grinding his heel into the shoe. "Iggy help! He's awake and - Ow ow ow!! You're gonna ruin my new kicks, Noct! - Sleeping Beauty is cranky!"

Noct doesn't respond, instead he resorts to pinching Prompto's cheeks and pulling every so often at the mention of sleeping beauty. It doesn't take long for Ignis to step out of the tent and carefully seperate the two as they hurl playful insults towards one another. Instead of suggesting they stop, he simply wraps an arm around Noct's waist and slowly ushers him towards their tent. Perhaps it was Noct's imagination but he could have sworn that Prompto gave him an optimistic smile as well a thumbs up as a form of moral support.

Ignis was careful, gentle as he helped Noctis into the tent and sat him down and sat beside him. The past two weeks had been draining on everyone, especially him. He had spent those two weeks, watching the crown prince flutter in and out of consciousness all while holding some semblance of sanity. Noctis was his charge, his responsibility, and so far, his entire world. There was no future without the prince and yet here he was, so willing to risk his life for his own advisor. Ignis had failed to draw the Behemoth away, failed to fight long enough for Noctis to flee and yet, here they both were. A crown prince now a little worse for wear and an advisor who was given a chance to escape and now.. Well now, he was staring at Noctis and enough to make him fidget.

"Listen Iggy, about what happened." Noctis swallowed hard and shook his head. "I didn't-"

He was cut off by Ignis, who had raised his hand as a clear sign to just stop for once. "You may not have meant to but you endangered yourself regardless, Noct." He shook his head, ever so careful to avoid staring into those blue eyes that would pull him in and just as easily undo him. "Are you aware of how serious your injuries were? You could have very easily had died had we not arrived in time! What would happen to the crystal then and what of Insomnia and Lucis? What were you thinking?" To say he was upset was an understatement. He was well beyond that and now he was torn between concern and anger, towards himself for failing to protect Noct and Noct for being so damn reckless.

Why did he do it..? Because, they were his friends and closest family on this trip, because he needed them, because he cared for them deeply. Because Prompto has nobody except for them.. Because Iris would be devastated if she lost Gladio and because of Ignis. Despite how much he was hounded about healthy eating, reckless actions and driving, he would miss Ignis. He would miss the times they spent as children, the constant jokes he tried to tell, being the first to taste new recipes and deserts, and being able to see him first thing in the morning.

"I know but I'm fine now, I didn't die cause of you guys. I wasn't going to die so easily anyway," Noctis stopped, his lips pursed into a fine line as he gazed up at him. "Ignis would you please just look at me already. Please, I'm sorry but I'm so tired of people dying for me." Whatever cool he had was long since gone, his voice had already begun to crack alongside his composure and now he was well on the verge to breaking down. "I don't need you to die for me."

Ignis was many things; Brave, intelligent, and most importantly loyal. He was being tested and failing at an alarming rate. Whatever will he had was well on it's way to disappearing and all it took was a shared gaze and a pair of sad blue eyes to do him in. Any space between them was closed when Noctis had pulled him down along with him. and now lay on his back with his dear advisor  hovering over him, lips mere inches apart. Any doubt was smothered and snuffed out by none other than the prince's dry lips covering his own.

He doesn't complain, no, instead he reciprocates and eagerly at that, kissing Noct back. His hands gently caressing the prince's cheeks and brushing away the tears he shed. Perhaps it was heat in the moment or something more but he's relieved knowing that this was something that the prince desired and for once there was no voice screaming at him about his actions nor how unprofessional it may have been to kiss the crown prince of Lucis. 

When they part, Noct simply smiles up at him, teary eyed and chuckling and Ignis can't help but sigh at the sight beneath him.

The moment is cut short by the familiar sound of a camera clicking and the tent being lit up by the flash followed by a panic apology and Prompto scurrying away for fear that his life may be cut short by a rather sore and tired prince.

[asfeedin]

Silent Witness

I moved my desk to be in front of my window. Somehow this makes it feel like I’m still part of the world. It reminds me that I still live in a city that exists beyond my apartment. It’s been six weeks since my access to it has been sharply curtailed. Today like yesterday the weather is grey and rainy. These are the days I find the hardest. When the sun is streaming through my front wall of windows, the place my desk is now, it all seems easier to bear.

I have several pieces of furniture in my apartment, including my desk, that have wheels. I think this probably can tell you something about the kind of stance I have towards change.  Perhaps it confirms what you already know about my zodiac signs. I’m a Gemini who was also born in the Year of the Snake. Do you know those creatures that like to shed their skins? When the mood strikes my furniture on wheels allows me to re-arrange my space in ways that accommodate this element of my personality.

There’s a stand of brick row houses across the street from my building. They are three stories tall. Most of them are now painted dull brown or shades of grey and the drabness of the color makes them all blend together. They appear to be a solid block of housing. The houses are dressed in a uniform that strips them of their individuality. I am reminded of a barracks. I don’t like to look closely at them because they reflect the tedium of what daily life has now become. Built to house a middle class that has all but disappeared, it seems their unique character has too.

Yet, in front of my gaze if I sit up in my seat and look directly ahead are two outliers. The first is a solitary row house defiantly painted yellow with dark green doors, shutters, and cornice. What looks like gas lamps glow on each side of the door. In the transom window above the door, the same golden pinpoints of light shine through. I crane my neck forward and squint. A chandelier hung in the vestibule comes into focus and is revealed.  This house I find out is a bed and breakfast, the reason for it’s sprucing up. Today it is quiet, the only person coming in and out is the caretaker masked and gloved. Planes that bring the people who fill its rooms are now silent and sitting still on the tarmac.

The second outlier can be found in the lot where two of the connected houses used to be. Given its’ size, the fir tree that fills the space must have been planted a long time ago. I imagine an unexpected fire might have swept through and destroyed the buildings that once stood there before help could arrive. The giant fir, taller than the row houses on either side is an anomaly on this avenue where there is no other green in sight. As this one proves, fir trees are long-lasting and resilient. As evergreens, they do not lose their leaves nor their color and remind us that life goes on. An evergreen in writing is something that can always come back into circulation and retains its’ relevance.

During these days I have a uniform of my own. I’ve taken to wearing silk pajama tops with my oldest, most faded and worn pair of jeans. My explorations into eco-literacy reassure me I am not a slob by not washing them even though they are worn every day. I’ve discovered jeans should be washed way less often for many reasons. With all the heaviness around me, the soft lightness of the silk hanging from my shoulders is all the load I feel like carrying right now. It allows me to indulge the aimless wandering and re-imagining about where I might find my place when the door opens again. It doesn’t demand any instant answers and for that I am grateful. The soft pastel flowers are blurred and remind me of my love of watercolors. Their fragility and whispered renderings a gentle nudge rather than a hard push.

There is something though about the weight and texture of my jeans that are grounding. Like the row houses I see in front of me, jeans in America are a symbol of those who work and of labor movements that created a middle class. Like the fir tree, my jeans seem to hold me and point me in an upright direction. As a child born in the 1950s jeans for me in the 1970s were a symbol of rebellion and non-conformity. Today they remind me of my father and my working-class roots. My silk pajama top reminds me of my grandmother and the life of privilege, luxury, and education she introduced me to. My clothes embody the merging of the public/private life I am living on-line. Just like the way I feel today, what I am wearing signifies a state of being in-between.

Today in the midst of my messy moodiness and in view of the defiant yellow row house and endlessly striving evergreen, I turn my body over and into my clothes. My clothes when I wear them are also a witness to the life I’m living today. The memories I associate with them keep me close to those I love. My silk shirt is like the shiny golden chandelier that beckons from the vestibule and my jeans a uniform as I try to manage a life that feels like it’s being lived in a kind of surreal captivity. So honoring the loss and sadness I feel yet allowing room for hope is the task for today.

What are your clothes witnessing today and what stories will they have to tell about it?

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