#if they can’t it’s literally fine. i don’t really have a burning desire to continue working in hospitality. plus i’m starting this course

[fingertipsmp3]

I got a job interview on the same day my current contract ends lol. Is my run of bad luck coming to an end or is it more of the same though 🧐

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter thirteen

summary: luca visits his mom, while you deal with the aftermath of aiko's funeral.

warnings: fluff, angst, grief, death, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 4.5k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist

a/n: well folks, this is the final chapter of 'burn your life down.' what a beautiful journey we've all been on together. i swear, this was only supposed to be a headcanon, then a few chapters maybe, and then 46.5k words later... thank you again and again if you read, commented, reblogged, or screamed at me in gifs because this story quite literally took over my life. i will be releasing a 'behind the scenes'/director's cut post, a few headcanons about the kimuras and the mikkelson twins, and want to write more for these two. so... what do you want to see them do next?

in the meantime, let's go get carmy married in "don't want to walk alone."

part twelve | masterlist

The clang of spoons against chipped mugs that date back to his primary school days feels comforting and familiar. Luca smiles to himself, dropping another sugar cube into his tea, using his teaspoon to mix it in as he listens to his mother make a sharp pivot away from her previous subject. 

“Anyways, it’s not that I don’t love a spontaneous visit home, but we can’t ignore the elephant in the room, love,” his mother prompts him, finally done with dancing around the small talk her son’s have engaged in for the last thirty minutes.

“This girl, Luca,” she continues, sending him a look that says ‘you’re not getting out this one.’ “You haven’t brought a girl home in… god knows how long.”

“I-,” Luca begins, a smile on his lips that’s contagious. “It’s-, it’s not like that mom.”

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say: that he’s hopelessly in love and that he hasn’t said anything yet because even though he wants nothing more than to shout it from the rooftops, that you’re here in London for a funeral and not to meet him mum?

“Well, darling. Then what is it like?” his mother asks him with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

Luca hesitates, wanting to be strategic with how he explains this because the love he feels for you really is extraordinary. But he doesn’t want to jump the gun either. Because what if it all falls apart and he’s spoken too soon? You did just lose your mother-in-law, and he’d rather introduce you to his mum when you both are ready. 

Finally, Luca decides what he’d like to say, returning his attention to his mother before replying with:

“She’s special… She's really special to me.”

His mother laughs, because although her son seems to be cautiously tiptoeing around some kind of imaginary fine line, the truth is written all over his face. 

It’s in the way the corners of his lips turn up when she’s mentioned you. It’s in his shy nature and eagerness to avoid the subject. It’s in the way her son’s undeniable coyness, as she bridges the subject, that tells her that he’s found his heart. 

“Oh I know that look. You’re in love,” Luca’s mother declares, reminding Luca that she really does see right through him. 

“Do you think she’s the one?’ 

Luca sighs, turning the idea over in his head. It’s almost as if he hasn’t let himself feel it, hasn’t let himself think too hard about it, but the blush that runs across his cheeks gives him away. 

“I sure hope so, mum,” Luca answers, honestly. 

“Well,” his mother replies, smugly, as if to remind her son that she’s always right when it comes to him. “I’d like to meet her,”

“Mum, I-,” Luca begins, before pausing once more, suddenly overcome with the desire to fulfill her wishes. “It’s just… we’re here for a funeral is all.”

“And that means the two of you can’t stop by for a cup of tea?” his mother asks, haphazardly. 

“I’ll ask,” Luca promises, firmly. 

“I mean, what’s the hold up, my love?” she asks again, and it’s almost as if Luca knows she isn’t expecting an answer. 

“Right,” he mumbles in agreement, something distant in his voice. 

And while Luca wants nothing more than to be patient with you, for the both of you to make this decision together, the irrefutable pressure he feels from his mother’s question seems to create a sense of urgency that takes root.  As it begins to spiral out of control, his mind filled with thoughts of doubt, his mother’s question echoes in his head: 

What’s the hold up?

Surely you could manage just one visit before returning to Copenhagen, right?

Luca watches his mother take a sip from her teacup, his mind beginning to wander to earlier today, as she goes on about a recent neighborhood happening. As brave of a face as he’s been putting on, it was odd, seeing the family you used to belong to. And it’s not as if, with the divorce, that all just went away. He knows you’re still close with Astrid and the fact that you and Joe aren’t mortal enemies, seeing the two of you together earlier today, was harder to stomach than he imagined. 

He can’t help but be filled with feelings of jealousy – jealous of how close you still are to the Kimurs, irrationally nervous that you and Joe seem to still have such a positive relationship, envious that he got to love you first. His reaction to his mother’s question is just a reflection back to him of his own worries, his own impatience, his own insecurities.

And Luca can’t help but wonder:

What would it mean if you weren’t ready to meet his mum?

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

“I hope it’s not too late to set my demons straight. I know i made you wait, but how much can you take?” – kendrick lamar, ‘die hard’

You decide to take the long way home, walking off the afternoon, surprised to find how deep of sadness that still remains buried in your belly. Of course you expected to be sad, to be filled with grief over the loss of your former mother-in-law, but it’s something else, the bittersweetness of closure that’s left you feeling so heavy. 

It’s not that you’ve missed Joe – not in that way at least. 

But as you sat next to him at the neighborhood pub you’ve been to with him more times than you can count, it became more and more evident that he is no longer your Joe – and hasn’t been for a long time now. 

You recall just a few of the things you remember about him that reminded you of this: the way his dark curls seemed wilder, messier, than you’d seen them in a long time, that his five o’ clock shadow that used to feel so rough against your lips looked unfamiliar now and how much you’ve forgotten the way the rough texture laid against the soft skin of his face, how his shoulders slumped with a burden you know is too heavy to bear. 

When he’d told you all about his new job, it’s as if the elaborate portrait of his life that he’d painted for you began to unfold right in front of you. Only this time, as you listen, you come to realize that it’s been painted with brush strokes that weren’t yours, with colors you don't recognize, making your revelation clearer and clearer:

Joe has built a life without you – one that you don’t fit into anymore, at least not in the same way – and you’ve done the same. 

Even though you left on a high note, at peace with Joe, reconnected with the Kimuras, and free to begin your next chapter, it feels like your heart is in pieces, reeling from the emotional whiplash of endings and beginnings. 

And you can’t seem to stop crying, letting the tears run down your face with every step you take towards your temporary residence. 

As you approach the hotel, riding the elevator up to you and Luca’s room, you’re surprised to find him more jovial than you expected. It’s not like you expected him to be sad – this isn’t his loss to grieve after all, and you’re glad that it seems like he’d had a good visit with his mum – but it feels jarring, like you’re not sure how to meet him there as you continue to sort through your thoughts and feelings from today. 

“Hi,” you say, cautiously. 

He hums in response, pulling you into a huge, sweeping kiss as he smiles against your lips. 

“Hello, my love,” he grins, as he pulls away from the kiss. 

You can’t help it, and you wish it were different, but there’s a pit in your stomach as you begin to notice how different of spirits you’re in. 

“How was your visit with your mum?” you ask him, as if you’re trying to solve a mystery, trying to figure out where all of this energy is coming from. 

Luca, driven to boldness by his mother’s question, seems to have thrown all caution to the wind as he answers with:

“It was great! Listen, I know it’s not the best of timing but, she really wants to meet you. Before we go home. What do you think?” he pitches to you, charging through his sentence like a confident and emboldened CEO. 

“Oh,” is all you manage to get out. 

No longer as patient as you’ve come to know him, his sudden change makes you nervous, and for the first time in a long time, you panic; you feel like running. 

“Luca, I-,” you stammer, searching for the right words to just fall out of your mouth. 

But they don’t. 

So you pause, licking your lips before adding, “I’ve had a long day and… I just-, I don’t know if I’m in the right headspace for that?” 

You don’t mean for it to sound like a question, but it comes out as one. Expecting for him to be just as understanding as he’s been the last few months, you’re more than surprised when Luca seems disappointed, cross even, at your response as you’re met with silence. You watch as he presses his lips together in a thin line, swallowing as he focuses on the floor. 

You feel like you just told him that Santa Claus wasn’t real, taking a breath as you take a few steps towards him. 

You’re not sure how, under the circumstances, he could expect you to be as enthusiastic as he is, but you’re almost too afraid to ask questions – a pit in your stomach about where this could all go. 

“Honey, I-,” you sigh, taking his hands in yours as you’re quick to reassure him. You want nothing more than to remedy this, to tell him yes, but you can’t seem to get those words out of your mouth so instead you choose to explain yourself. 

“Today has been… totally fucking crazy and… I think I just want to take a nap. I-, just because-.” You pause once more, trying your best to address the situation at hand. “It doesn’t mean anything that I don’t-, that I’m maybe not ready to-.”

“Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?” he asks you, pulling his hands back and taking a few steps away. You’re silent as you watch him pace back and forth, your heart sinking as he pulls away from you. 

“Wh-, what do you mean?” you stumble through, nervously. 

Luca pauses his movements, really looking at you this time as he asks, “You say it doesn’t mean anything. But it does. To me.”

“Baby, what’re you talking about?” you ask him, taking another step towards him. 

“That you’re not ready,” he snaps at you. 

Perhaps it could be different, he could react with much more grace and compassion, but between seeing a piece of your old life, and the doubts swimming in his head, he’s not sure he can wait any longer. 

“Luca, that’s not fair,” you whisper softly. 

“I-, I know. But-,” Luca tries his best to explain, becoming increasingly frustrated with himself as he continues to talk. “I just-, it’s hard not to think it means something. That you wouldn’t want to meet her.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to meet her!” you insist, trying your best to reassure your boyfriend. “It’s just that I just said goodbye to my mother-in-law and it-, it kind of feels like… well, I can’t just replace her!” 

“I’m not-, I’m not trying to replace her!” Luca can’t help but exhale frustratedly. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you’re quick to interject, the air between the two of you suddenly feeling tenuous. 

Luca takes a breath, his jaw clenching in response to his deep feelings of jealousy. He knows it’s not fair but he reminds himself that he’s only human as his mind is filled with questions he wants to ask you like: 

Why can’t you just let go of them? and, Do you miss them more than you love me? and lastly, this one in his mother’s voice, What’s the bloody hold up?

“I know,” is what he says instead, choosing to be the better man he knows he can be. He pauses, taking a seat on the hotel bed, his eyes fixed to the floor once again. 

“Luca, I don’t understand,” you start, taking another few steps toward him so that you’re now standing in front of him. “Why are we fighting right now?”

Instead of answering right away, you search his face as he avoids your gaze, giving you more and more pause for concern. 

“I just… are you having doubts… about us? After today?” he drags out, his voice strained. 

“No, what-, where would you have gotten-, what do you mean?” you ask him, suddenly questioning if you’ve given him any reason to think otherwise. 

“I just don’t understand why you don’t want to meet her!” he exclaims with a shake of his head. 

“I never said I didn’t want to!” you’re quick to object. 

As Luca leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees, you cross your arms over your chest as it becomes more and more evident that this conversation is getting heated. 

“Luca, where is this coming from?” you ask softly, in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. 

“Well, you didn’t say yes,” he throws back at you, and it hurts more than you thought it would. 

“Yes, because-. I told you that I don't think I’m in the right mindset,” you struggle to explain. “Wouldn’t you rather I meet her when we’re both ready?”

“When you’re ready?” he points out. 

“Luca, where is this all coming from?” you repeat your question, this time more sure, a deep concern in your eyes as you drop your arms to your side. You sit down on the bed next to him this time, wanting him to know that you’re on his side. 

“It’s-,” he starts, before letting out another frustrated sigh. “I know that you’ve needed us to take things slow… but it’s been months and I just don’t understand how you’re still not ready.”

His insistence that you’re not ready only continues to frustrate you

“I’m not! That’s not what’s happening here,” you defend yourself. “Luca, please. I am ready. But meeting your mom is a whole different thing especially when, shit, babe. Especially when I’m navigating this loss and… and when you’re pressuring me like this!” 

He scoffs, “You’re just scared.”

“I-. That’s not-. Yes, I am, and so far I’ve pushed through my fears because I want to be with you. Because I love being with you, Luca,” you insist, angling your body towards him this time. 

“But right now this all feels pretty unfair and I just don’t know why, suddenly, you need me to do this. I mean, if it was this important to you we should’ve talked about it before we came.”

You pause once more, because really, you’d just like to understand why you’re fighting in the first place. 

“Why is this suddenly so important for you?”

“Because I need to know-,” he snaps, finally turning to you. “I need to know that you feel the same way that I-. Because I-.”

You know what he’s about to say so you cut him off, knowing that, regardless of whatever’s got him so tied up into knots, it’s not the right time for either of you. 

“Don’t,” you beg him, reaching out to grab his hand with yours. Luca looks up at you, returning your gaze this time and the disappointment in his eyes breaks your heart for a third time today. 

“Please, don’t say it. Not right now. Not while we’re fighting. I don’t want the first time we say it to be when we’re fighting.”

There are so many things Luca wants to say, but instead, he doesn’t, too afraid the words will tumble out of his mouth because he knows it’s not the right time either. So instead, he sits there, wondering how he got himself caught up in this mess. 

“I think I should go for a walk,” you say, breaking the thick silence between you. “Think we need to take a break… from this conversation. Before either of us say anything we don’t mean.”

“I promise. I’ll come back. I promise,” you reassure him. 

“Okay,” he finally says, agreeing with you that maybe you both need a time out from this conversation. 

“Okay.” 

You can’t help it, but you can’t get out of there fast enough. With your jacket wrapped tightly around you, you wander the city for as long as you need to, especially since the tears have come back. 

You can only imagine that it’s not been easy for Luca to have accompanied you to the funeral today, but you can’t seem to figure out what would’ve set him off like this – what could’ve filled him with so much doubt and so much urgency. You wonder what his mother must’ve said to him, wonder if something she said got into his head about your relationship. You know you’re not a walk in the park, but doesn’t everyone come with their own set of baggage? 

The answer is simple. You take a time out, then you and Luca talk this all out when you get back to the hotel. You have no intention of running away, as much as the lesser parts of you would like to do nothing but, because you’re in this. 

You know you’re in this, and even though it doesn’t seem like it, you know that Luca can feel it too. 

Your mind wanders over to what he almost said. 

I love you. 

And you love him too. 

The words have felt more and more prominent as of late, lingering in every goodbye, hanging heavy in the air as he’s held your hand through your grief, on the cusp of being said every time you make love. 

Suddenly, overcome with the urge to tell him, you turn around, power-walking towards the hotel. He said it earlier, that he just needed to know that you felt the same way, and while there is so much more you need to talk out, this feels like a good place to start. 

And more than anything, it feels like the thing that you need to do. 

You come bursting through the doors to the hotel room, finding Luca there, still pacing. His jacket is thrown on the bed in a different place, and you gather that he must’ve gone out for his own walk as well. 

“Hi,” he greets you, almost as if he’s surprised that you came back. 

“I came back,” is all you say. 

He nods slowly, before taking a seat on the bed once more, “Yeah.”

You walk towards him so that you’re now standing in front of him again.

“We have… so much to talk about… but… my walk made one thing clear,” you begin, cradling his head in your hands and lifting it to your gaze as you kneel down. “There’s something I-. I have to tell you that….”

His eyes meet yours as you finally say it: 

“I love you, Luca.” 

Overcome with a swell of emotions, Luca pulls you in, kissing you as you crawl onto his lap. You press your lips to his in a passionate kiss, and while he entertains you for a few more moments, he finally pulls away with a chuckle. 

“What?”

“It’s just that-. Well, I wanted to say it first,” Luca chuckles, earning a laugh from you as well. 

“Well sometimes things happen unexpectedly. Like meeting you,” you say, pressing your forehead against his as you whisper the words against his lips. “And I need you to know… that that was the very best thing. You are the very best thing.”

“I’m sorry about earlier. I should’ve been more considerate. It’s not like we’re here for a holiday or anything-,” Luca begins to apologize, now that he’s come down from whatever had possessed him earlier. 

“You’re right. I wasn’t being fair to you, my love.”

“No it’s-, you needed to hear how I felt. And I get it now. This… whole trip has been… weird, I know,” you catch up to him, wanting him to know that you understand. “But I so appreciate you owning your part in it too.”

“My mum just, I don’t know. She got in my head. Had me overthinkin’... About us. Made me realize that I’ve got a lot more on the line here to lose,” Luca tries to explain as you leave soft kisses across his face. 

“And what does that mean?” you ask him playfully, knowing exactly where this could go. 

“It means that,” he starts, a cheeky smile on his face, before Luca leans in for another kiss. This time, he whispers the words against your lips. 

“That I love you too. So, so much.”

 -------------------------------

You’ve asked, requested, demanded really, time and time again to see photos, but as you sit in Luca’s mum’s home, staring at a photo of a young, rebellious, teenage Luca, it’s better than you could’ve ever imagined. 

“And that was his ‘I just want to be normal like the riff raff that he was runnin’ around with’ phase,'' his mother, Elaine, explains over your fit of giggles. 

“Oh mum. Can we not, please?” Luca groans, shooting his mother a playful glare. 

“He insisted that ‘Luca’ was too strange of a name. Not a proper English name either. Insisted I call him ‘Lucas’ so, yes, this is Lucas,” Elaine continues to share, against her son’s wishes. 

“God, that’s so embarrassing. I don’t know why I wanted this to happen in the first place,” Luca sighs, looking from you to his mother.

“Oh honey, I think I just fell in love with you all over again,” you giggle, giving his knee a squeeze under the table. “And yes, Elaine. I will be taking this photo with me. Think we should hang it on the fridge.”

Luca groans again, while Elaine exchanges a glance with her son, an entire conversation being had with just a shared look. 

As Elaine continues to share another photo of ‘Lucas,’ pouring over old family photos and memories, you’re sure that this man is the love of your life. 

You’ve had first love, the naive kind that breaks your heart because it’s the first time that you’ve ever felt this way before – the good and the bad. And then there was Joe, who somehow encompassed the feeling of being forever young, while being the love that grew you up too. But this? Loving Luca makes you feel safe and wild at the same time – like at any moment you could take a risk, knowing that you’ll always have a safe place to land. 

And as you look to Luca, watching him beg his mum not to embarass him any further, you smile knowingly, because you can feel that this is it. 

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

It’s the night you launch your Winter menu, and while you recognize that if any of your signature dishes came off the menu, there would be riots in the streets, you’re more than excited (yes, and definitely a little nervous) about the cozy additions you and Mathilde have dreamed up. 

At your pre-shift standup, your wait staff take turns practicing how to talk about some of the new dishes on the menu, and while you trust them to handle this one with care, you feel it’s important for you to speak on this one. 

“And this is the final dish that we’ve added to our winter menu,” you begin, pausing before you share. 

“As most of you know, I lost my former mother-in-law almost two months ago and um. Well, she taught me everything I know about Japanese cooking. So this is a dish for her: a red miso ramen with white miso-glazed kabocha squash, enoki mushrooms, ajitama and pickled green onions. It’s um. It’s a very personal dish to me, so I hope you enjoy.”

You watch as your staff, front and back of house, dive into the ramen bowls, trying the last dish you have to go over as a team, their faces lighting up with pure glee and sheer delight in response to the dish. 

Your phone buzzes in your apron pocket, and as you pull it out, you see a few texts from your group message with the Kimuras, in response to the photos you sent of your finished dish. 

Astrid: OMG it’s beautiful! 

Lina: I’m hungry now. Save us some!!

Joe: She would’ve loved it. :)

“Looks like I’m right on time,” you hear a familiar voice say, pulling your focus from your phone to the front door. 

“Luca! What’re you doing here?” you ask him, as you shove your phone back into your pocket, moving towards him. 

“I know it’s a big night for you. Thought I’d come in a bit later but Mathilde invited me to the standup. Thought you may need a little additional support,” Luca shrugs, as you give him a soft ‘hello’ peck on the lips. 

“Yeah, no I-. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I just introduced the ramen, actually. Aiko’s dish,” you reply, the smile on your face undeniable as you're filled with nothing but joy and love for the man that stands in front of you. “But let me make you up a bowl.”

“I’d love that,” Luca nods in agreement. 

You make your way back to the open kitchen, watching as Jesper pulls up a chair for Luca, right next to yours. Mathilde is quick to offer him a smaller plate, welcoming him in with open arms. As you plate your dish, you can’t take your eyes off of him, and you have to remind yourself that you do need to make up this bowl of ramen at some point. 

But seeing Luca here with your team – here to support you on your big night, on a night that you’re sharing your whole heart in one bowl of noodles – you’re overcome with a deep sense of gratitude that you get to be the one who loves him. You think back to the day you met, so glad that that evening was slow, that he chose to leave the box of pastries, that he asked you to come to AOC, because if he hadn’t, who knows where you’d be? 

You walk the ramen bowl back to the table, setting it down in front of Luca with a kiss to his cheek as a bonus, as you sit down in the chair next to him. He smiles at you, a glimmer in his eyes that says, ‘thank you, my love.’

You smile back, thinking about what he said earlier, when he first walked in this evening because the double meaning isn’t lost on you. 

And because he’s right. 

Maybe, he’s always been right on time.

[ihaveafandom-problem554]

Hey, could I request a upper three x milf reader. Like she's rui's human møther replacement, but she genuinely cares for her family. Shw calls oni her little 'koibito', or her sweetheart, and spoils all of her 'children' when she goes down to the village with sweet treats to make and little toys?

I read this so many times with the biggest smile on my face.

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

Older Spider Brother = Ani (It was the name I found on the Wiki)

Older Spider Sister = Ane ( Her name was actually Ane not Oni, I might go back to naming her Oni though-), Koibito (Sweetheart)

Ok lets just say Ani can switch from his spider form to a human-looking form

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

You exited the small market filled with your koibito's favorite pastries and sweets as you entered another market, this time filled with Ani's favorite snacks.

This continued until you had everyone's favorite snack or play thing.

Straight to the woods you went after finishing buying everyone’s desires. You lived near the Mountain where it was rumored to have demons.

Anyone who walked in never came back out.

Who ever did later died days later, their last words being

"I was disturbing their perfect family"

You only smiled at the thought of it happening to you. Your smile getting bigger at the words 'perfect family'.

You stopped walking once you reached a hot spring with clean spider themed kimono sitting next to it. You placed the treat filled bags under a tree as you took off your current kimono. Now undressed, you took a short bath in the hot spring to wash off all the wisteria from your body.

Once finished, you put on your spider kimono and grabbed the bags and proceed to walk towards your house.

And Once you open the door, the first thing you heard was-

“WOULD YOU STOP EATING MY SNACKS YOU FREAK!” Your spider daughter yelled at her older spider brother. Ani’s only response was to spit his poison at her and laugh. Thank goodness Ane missed just barely.

“WHAT THE HELL YOU PRICK!? THIS ISN’T FUNNY” Ane yelled. “Ani, What have I said about using your poison in the house? And apologize to your sister” You say as you walked inside.

Ani scoffed, “Why should I? She called me a freak-OW” he screamed as he turn into his more human like form to touch is head that just got backhand slapped. 

“OW! What was that for!?”

“Apologize to your sister, like your dear mother had ask.” your husband, Akaza, demanded as he held a sleeping Rui. Ani held the back of his head once more before reluctantly turning over to his sister, who now wore a smug smirk across her face. 

“Hmph, even though your very poor when it comes to apologizing. I guess I’ll take it.” Ane taunted. “Ok now your asking for more poison-”

“Keep the poison to yourself, or else you don’t get to see what’s in the bag” You threaten holding up the multiple bags you had in your hands. The two spider siblings quickly rushed over to you to see what was in the bag.

Treats, toys, tools (You don’t understand why they want those) Different teas and baked goods.

When the spider siblings walked away with their new belongings, you went over to your husband and youngest child. The second you sat down next to them, you got forced right back up.

“Akaza, I’m fine!” You playfully complained. “Nope, Stay still”

You giggled at Akaza being concerned for you. He checked you up and down to see if you had any bruises, cuts, burns, scratches, rashes, literally anything that doesn’t belong on your body.

As he looked around your body, you started to pose for him. “Can you stop posing, I can’t find any-”

“I’m putting on a show! you should be grateful!”

“Eh- Pose once more I need a camera!”

“Ani...broke the...last one with his poison..” A sleepy Rui said snuggling deeper into Akaza’s hold. “Hi Rui! how was your day?” You say taking him from Akaza. “Father backhand slapped Ani 13 times today”

“Why did you count?”

“AKAZA!”

“WHAT!? He can take it!”

“We spoke about this!”

“He’s a lower rank 2 in the making, he has potential!”

...

Both You and Rui gave Akaza a disappointed look.

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

No this is not ending yet. I just lost the courage to continue writing this so here are some headcanons..

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

Affection towards Older spider brother, Ani

Someone put a warning anytime this guy shows up like damn

- .....

- See, it's hard enough to even strike a conversation with him

- He favors Akaza more than you

- And he has no shame saying it out loud

- But-but even though he can be an ass, he has a weak spot for the snacks you buy him and when you cup his face

- He can't take physical affection well

- He's the only one who doesn't know what to do when you hug him, so he just stands there

- He loves the snacks you get him

- very different from human meat

- He doesn't like the toys you get him so he gives it to Rui

- But if you get Ane toys he takes hers and claims that her toys are better

- Do you take care of his spider underlings?

- No

- Akaza's really aggressive with him

- In his eyes, Ani is a lower moon in the making

- So, the second you leave the house

- Akaza enters the house to train him

- Ani loves Akaza more than you because Akaza allows him to spit his acid/poison around the house

- Yes you come home to holes in the walls

- Your little koibito

- Such an angel

- She favors you more than Akaza

- Loves literally anything you do

- Vows to become just like you

- You love to hug her the second you get the chance

- And she always accepts them

- She always by your side

- Loves to be held by you on bad days

- You both love to snuggle with each other

- Akaza loves to take pictures of you two when the both of you fall asleep

- Akaza doesn’t know what to with ‘little women’ so he spoils her with treats before bed (Which you forbid)

- For some strange reason, he’s an expert on hair, so he does Ane’s hair all the time

- If she wanted something you already said no to, she’s going straight to Akaza to ask the same question because she knows he’ll say yes

- Akaza also loves to carry her on his back

- But of course, this won’t be Akaza if he didn’t think she’ll be a perfect lower moon in the making

- So yes, she has to train too

- “Hug me”

- “Hold me”

- “I want affection”

- “Mother, carry me”

- “Father, Mother is choosing Ane over me... She claims she no longer loves me-”

- He’s adorable

- and clingy

- VERY clingy

- Needs to be held at least 9 times a day or else all hell is set free

- Doesn’t have a favorite

- But if he had to choose it would be you

- But then it’ll be Akaza

- He can’t decide

- He loves it when you sit down with him

- Mainly because he sees it as an opportunity to climb on you to cuddle

- “Jesus, Akaza can you stop trying to train the kids into being lower moons?”

- “I’m not just training them to be lower moons...Rui would make a great upper moon! He has-”

- “Potential? Yeah Akaza baby, no, that’s not happening”

- Once you leave, its training time

- He’s very aggressive when it comes to training Rui

- He personally thinks that Muzan mis-ranked the moons, he believes Rui should be lower moon 2 at least

- Akaza just wants his kids to be upper moons like him

- But they do have their cuddle moments

- Doesn’t understand why you bought him plushies

- But Once you offered to take it back and get him treats instead, he didn’t want to give it back

- ....

“Before you go out into the village, put wisteria all over your body to rid off any demons. I saw a hot spring not too far from here. Wash off the wisteria before you come in here”

“Ok Akaza”

“Always take the route Rui showed you. No shortcuts”

“Ok Akaza”

“Do not get injured on the way here. We might have to train harder if-”

“Akaza..Please shut up”

- You love him, but he’s very protective

- Sometimes he won’t let you leave the house

*Insert Protective Hugs* 

- You also have to train with the family, so Akaza doesn’t have to worry about you defending yourself

“NO! Baby look. The second the guy looks at you, you must give him a uppercut and break his nose. Then you tell him, if you ever look at me again.. I’ll get my stronger than Kokushibou sexy ass husband to beat your ass.”

“......I’m not doing that.”

“....Could you at least say it?”

- You have to start cuddle sessions because he sees it as a sign of weakness (he loves them though)

- He also loves the snacks you get him

- He loves Training  taking care of the kids

- He does the dad thing where he puts the all the kids on his back and does push up!

- Douma teases him for having a lower moon family

- Douma loves to come over To eat you

- Don’t worry Akaza deals with him

- Ngl Kokushibou also comes over

- Ani’s first reaction to him was-

“This motherfucker got 6 fucking eyes... Allergy season must be a pain in the ass-”

“ANI! Don’t say that to guests!”

- Kokushibou likes Ani for an odd reason

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

I think I went off topic-

[blessedlance]

pretty baby.

[r18+]

[wc:] 4k

[cw:] sub!atsumu, softdom!reader, femdom, oral (f. receiving), riding, pegging, mommy kink, puppy kink, minor dacryphilia, collar-play, restraints

! haikyuu manga timeskip spoilers. atsumu is 24. !

a/n: oh my god i haven’t written for leisure in literally 10 years i hope this is bearable LOL. @luvsicksubs​ wrote a lil tidbit about sub!atsumu a while ago and i have not known peace ever since so big thank you to ari for the inspo! pls enjoi :9

Atsumu’s been gone lately. A lot.

 Too much.

 You know it’s not his fault. The Jackals' practices have been brutal lately. So when Atsumu does eventually trudge his way back to your shared apartment every evening, he can only muster up enough energy to shower and collapse into bed. You’ve had to wake him more than once, chiding him to get up and at least dry his hair before bed.

“You can’t afford to get yourself sick by sleeping with wet hair, ‘Tsumu.” You’d whisper, shaking him gently awake. Usually he’d just groan in response and bury himself further against your body heat beneath the comforter--unwilling to give up even a second of precious, blissful sleep. You’d even gone so far as to physically pull his heavy, six foot athlete’s body out of the bed and into the bathroom to dry it for him once or twice.

It’s for his health, you reason. You can afford to pamper him a little--especially when he’s been working so hard. And the way his body slumps while he sits, his features softening--long eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks as he dozes off into half-sleep at the feel of your fingers tussling his hair with the gentle heat of the blow dryer… He becomes so soft in those moments, like putty in your hands.

It’s dangerous, because it makes you crave the sight of him like this--fragile and reliant on the comfort of your touch--even more.

You sigh. Reminding yourself again, for seemingly the millionth time since this excessive practicing for the championships started,

‘It’s not his fault.’

He’s been good. So, so good. Trying so hard to make sure you know he loves you and he’s sorry. Texting you to check in whenever he has the chance.

 > how are you today?

> how’s work going??

> what’s for lunch??? ლ(≧ڡ≦ლ)

 Sometimes sending videos of himself and Hinata hashing out new plays (only the ones they’ve mastered, though. You may be intimately familiar with every embarrassing piece of him, but he still wants to try to look cool in front of his girlfriend.)

And it helps. It really does. But you also know the texts are just as much for his own sake as they are for yours. You know how needy Atsumu gets when you two are apart.

 You remember the time he’d called you from his hotel room after an away game in Tokyo. How he whined into the phone at the sound of your voice when you whispered.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The way a soft cry escaped him at your command--your name leaving his lips with a breath.

 You want to feel him like that again. To see him beneath you, squirming and desperate--begging for you to just touch him, just sit on his face, his cock, anything you want just please--

 You abruptly stop your line of thinking--not daring to continue dwelling on this recurring fantasy. Atsumu doesn’t deserve the punishment you crave to dole out on him to relieve this frustration.

 … But he might want it.

 Championships are tomorrow. Just 24 hours stand between you and the feeling of Atsumu Miya’s taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You take a breath, summoning the remnants of your willpower.

You could do this. You would make certain that the wait would be worth it.

For both of you.

 ---

 The Black Jackals win their first match because of course they do. Honestly, sometimes you feel a bit bad for the opposing teams. Their skill, their teamwork, their passion, their absolute willpower to win is stifling. Atsumu texts you that they’re going out for celebratory dinner and drinks. Bokuto’s idea. (Obviously). He promises he’ll be home as soon as he can. They’ve all got tomorrow morning off, and a whole day before the next round of matches. Some indulgence is well-deserved.

You type out your reply.

 > Take your time and enjoy yourself! You’ve earned it. 💕

 Knowing you’ve got at least two hours or more before the boys’ exhaustion ushers them all home, you decide to spend some time... preparing.

 You’re reclined on the couch, watching something you can comfortably give your half-assed attention to while scrolling on your phone. You hear the front door unlocking, the handle turning, and your heart leaps into your throat. The thought of finally, finally having Astumu all to yourself makes you absolutely giddy.

You turn expectantly, and can’t help the way your lips curl upward into a smile.

Atsumu pushes the door open and turns toward you, already smiling when he opens his mouth.

 “Hey.” You murmur.

 “Hey.” He breathes back, and you watch the way his features relax at the sight of you. The way the confident, assiduous Atsumu Miya--a man who wakes up every single day and strives for perfection in everything and every one---melts into something softer.

Something that’s silently begging for you to tear him apart and piece him back together again.

He slips off his shoes, drops his gym bag to the floor, and brings his long, heavy body to lay over yours on the couch.

His face--tinted pink (presumably from the drinks)--buries itself against your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

Your fingers assume their familiar position, nestled in the blonde locks atop his head.

 “Missed you…” You say lowly against his ear.

The small shiver that runs down his spine does not escape your notice.

 “I’ve been here every night!” He protests.

 “You know what I mean.” Your fingers press against his head, tugging on the strands the slightest bit.

 “Mmm…” He affirms softly--your skin keenly feeling the gentle hum against its surface. He knows what you mean. He’s been here, yes, but it’s felt more like the ghost of him--wisping into your bed for a few hours and gone again in the morning.

 “You were really in the zone today.” You comment. “I felt bad for the other team.”

 He huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t. They played fine. We were just better.”

 “Hmm…” You take your unoccupied hand and run a single finger up the curve of his spine.

 He exhales, and you listen for the tremble in his breath you know will be there.

Just a little more.

 “Either way, you were so good.” You can’t contain the coy lilt your voice takes on. You know damn well what you’re doing--using the very words that always make him quiver. He knows what you’re doing, too.

Atsumu thinks he doesn’t mind.

 It’s quiet for a beat. The two of you simply basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed against each other. You stretch beneath him, and… readjust yourself in a way that presses your breasts against him just a little bit more...

And Atsumu finally, finally breaks.

 He inhales sharply, and lets the subsequent exhale freely pass against your neck. A muffled word that sounds a lot like a plea leaves his throat.

 “What was that?” You ask, purposely grazing your lips against his reddening ear.

 “Please…” He begs.

 You consider being mean for a moment. Consider pushing him to his limit in desperation. The way those sharp brown eyes would turn glassy and tearful, his dark brows pulled together, pleading you to hurry up and take him--touch him--let him touch you--fucking anything. However you want, wherever you want. Make him vocalize that burning desire, and only concede when he well and truly begs.

 But that can always be arranged another time.

You’re far too heady with desire yourself to enact such cruelty on him right now. Not after he’s been so good.

 You shift your weight, moving to switch your positions by sitting up and pressing him beneath you. Your straddle his hips, purposely pressing your weight down against his pelvis ever-so-slightly.

 “You’ve been working so hard, ‘Tsumu…” You murmur, lowering the top half of your body to lean over his. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt, running up along the taut muscles that tremble at your touch. “Such a good boy…”

Atsumu’s bites his lip in an effort to stifle the deep moan that leaves his chest. The way his body almost involuntarily reacts to that phrase every. single. time… It’s just too good to pass up.

You wet your lips.

 “Let me make you feel good.”

 And you press those lips ever-so-softly to the juncture between his jaw and neck. Soft touch turning to a light bite, and then back to a soothing kiss.

 Atsumu is crumbling--his hardening length pressing insistently against you.

 “I got everything ready. We can use whatever you want: rope,” and you press a slow open-mouth kiss to his neck,

“your collar,” then one to his collarbone,

“a toy,” traveling down to his pecs,

“the strap…” ending just beneath his belly button.

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, watching keenly for his expression to shift in interest at any certain one.

 Atsumu doesn’t give an immediate answer, his gaze unable to meet your own. Your hands trail back down his body, grazing a nipple with your fingernail just to see the way he twitches at the sensation. 

 “C’mon baby, how am I supposed to treat my good boy if he doesn’t tell me what he wants?” You purr, bringing your hands to the hem of the worn, oversized t-shirt covering your top half down to the juncture of your thighs. You’d snatched it from his dresser earlier to lounge in. Another carefully plotted detail. You knew just how riled up he got at the sight of you wearing his shirts. Even more so if he lifted it only to find those black and gold lacy panties underneath… Or if there was nothing…

Stretching your body, you pull the shirt up and off of your torso, tossing it aimlessly behind you. Atsumu’s gaze immediately returns to you--spotting that very set’s match: a black bra with intricate gold stitching around the lace adorning your skin. His hands are on you in an instant--palms sliding up your ribs to reach your breasts and gently squeezing around them.

Astumu had never been good with the concept of patience.

 Normally, you’d stop those big, calloused setter hands in their tracks--admonishing him for not asking permission, first. But this was about him. About fulfilling every whim his exhausted mind and body had the energy left to want. You could allow a little insubordination tonight.

 “You even wore my favorite.” He grins, that cheeky, self important tone of his sneaking back out. You smile coyly and tilt your hips downward, pressing your bare core against his still-restrained cock. He inhales sharply--dropping the attitude once more.

 “Part of the reward.” You grin. “Now, what does my good boy want?”

 His eyes drift upwards from their fixation on your breasts, meeting your gaze.

 “I want…” He bites his lip. “Wanna make you feel good.”

 Your eyes widen at the admission, but he’s speaking again before you can inquire.

 “You’re always so patient with me when practice gets like this. I just want to... To give you a reward, too.”

 You’re taken aback for a beat, pleasantly surprised at the acknowledgement. Atsumu still manages to surprise you with how observant he is. One of the more unexpected traits he shares with Osamu. Your eyes soften and you reach up to gently cup his face. He turns his head to kiss your hand and murmurs against your palm.

 "Let me taste you. Please."

 He knows how you get when he’s busy like this. How--despite your authority and confidence in the bedroom--you still long for his affection and crave his touch when he’s gone.

And this… This is the perfect way for him to express his gratitude while still pleasing both of you.

 “Okay.” You breathe, moving to kneel over his face. “Whatever you want,” you gently drop your weight toward his mouth. “my sweet boy.”

 He practically preens at the praise, moaning against your core. Again, Atsumu demonstrates his struggle with patience and savoring the moment. In an instant, he’s gripping your thighs and pulling them closer against the sides of his face. You know you could sit your entire weight atop him and he’d thank you, but tonight calls for something gentler. It’s enough to know you’re the only person who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to watch the diligent, cocksure Astumu Miya, one of--if not the--best setters in Japan, become so vulnerable and desperate beneath you.

 He flattens his tongue and runs it slowly up from the start of your opening to the top of your clit.

 “Fuck, ‘Tsumu…” You moan, hands rushing to grasp at his hair. He groans, too, at the sensation of your fingers tugging--the hum sending a vibration through your body. You grind your hips, silently urging him on, and his tongue laves at your clit with small kitten licks. The feeling of those tiny, gentle laps against your most sensitive spot, so diligent and soft--it’s like electricity coursing through you, running up into every limb.

 “Mmhmm.” He hums against you. He knows just how you like it. When he services you like this--like the obedient puppy he is. “So wet… Y’taste s’good...” He says, hot breath fanning against you while he catches his breath for a moment.

 You press yourself back against him insistently. “Who said you could take a break? Use your fingers, too.”

 His mouth is back against you immediately, right hand sliding beneath your thigh to reach your opening. Carefully, he presses two fingers against it--testing the give, while his tongue continues to lick and suck at that sensitive nub. Spit has dribbled down from his mouth to where his fingers are pressed, and he slides his digits against the wetness, adding to the natural lubricant. Then, finally, he pushes those long middle and ring fingers up and into you. They slide in easily despite the way you feel yourself clench around the intrusion. He was right--you’re soaked. He finds a comfortable rhythm to compliment his tongue’s lashings easily and your head falls back, a deep moan escaping past your lips.

 “‘Tsumu… ‘Tsumu, fuck just like that--you do it so well for me, baby… Right there--”

 You’re cut off by the feeling of his fingers curling within you--searching, and then pressing against that spot so nicely.

Your thigh muscles twitch against his cheeks--breath fleeing from your lungs at the sudden rush.

 “Yes, ‘Tsumu--fuck yes.”

 You chance a look down at his face. Those long lashes closed, brows knit together in concentration while he pleasures you. Atsumu’s a pretty boy, but you think he’s prettiest like this.

 Fuck, you want more of that desperate expression. Want to edge him over and over until he’s drooling and can’t remember his own fucking name.

 You’re getting close. That climbing ecstasy rising dangerously high within you. You pull yourself off him before you can climb too high, and the release of suction from his mouth makes a small, wet pop.

 “You eat it so well, baby. So, so good for me, pretty boy.” You coo, caressing the sides of his face. His lips are pink and wet and you return your hips to their place atop his length. His lip wobbles with a whimper, back arching against you in search of more.

 “I think you’ve earned your reward now, don’t you?” Your eyelids fall, half-closed seductively while you lean your chest toward his face. You reach behind your back and release the clasp of your bra. His hands tighten themselves into fists, trying to restrain the urge to reach up and touch. The fingers of your left hand splay out against his chest, holding your weight, while the right moves down to pull off his boxer briefs. Then, your wet folds are sliding against his erect, bare, length. Slowly, up and down.

 “Mmm please can I--can I touch--”

 You interrupt him with a small lick against those still-wet lips and chuckle quietly to yourself.

 Oh, so now he’s ready to ask first?

 “You can.” You affirm, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. His breath is coming harder now, those hardened pecs rising and falling beneath you. The anticipation is rapidly unraveling him. Atsumu’s hands are on your back, tugging your chest back down towards him. As they slide forward around your ribcage to grasp your breasts, his gaze flits up to you.

 “Can I--?”

 “Mmhmm.” You nod--knowing what he wants. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking with that perfect amount of harshness to tighten the coiling pressure in your lower body. His tip rests right against your opening. You can see the precum dribbling out of him--can feel the way he’s pushing himself slightly further up--desperate to get inside. Were this any other time,  you’d reprimand him for such impertinence. Tie his hands above his head and deny him completely. ‘And you were being so good, too, asking permission and everything. You wanna be inside that bad, maybe I should remind you how it feels to be on the receiving end, hmm?’

But, honestly, he’d nearly tipped you over the edge with just his mouth earlier. You were becoming impatient, yourself. 

 Finally, blessedly, you sink yourself down onto his cock, revelling in the way his mouth falls open and his head flings backward against the couch pillow with a cry.

 “Mmm.. ‘s it that good, baby?” You tease.

 “‘S been a while… So tight…” He hisses, almost like it’s too much.

 “Yeah?” You tease. Your hips are gradually picking up speed. Slowly rising up, up, up, as far as you can go before it feels like he might just fall out of you, and then your hip fall again, taking his full length deep inside.

 “‘Tsumu…” You say, rising back up again. “I wanted to pamper you tonight... “ and you slide back down. “Give my cute, sweet boy a reward for all his hard work.”

 Atsumu keens, whimpering beneath you.

 “But I think I wanna be a little selfish, too.” You breathe, leaning in close enough for your breath to fan against his face. “Is that ok baby?”

 A high pitched moan leaves Atsumu’s throat, and you clench around him.

 “Yes…” He sighs between ragged breaths. “Yes... Please, I--”

 “Please, what?” You interrupt him.

 “P-please…” You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “Please, mommy…”

 “Ohhhhh, that’s my good boy.” You moan, restarting the rise and fall motion of your cunt around him. “Gonna make you feel so good. Just the way you deserve, ‘Tsumu. But you have to promise you won’t cum until I say so, mmk?” You’re holding his face, running your right index finger along the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.

 And Astumu Miya shudders beneath you, staring up in reverence. The way those big brown watery eyes look at you… He’d look so cute with a collar clasped around his neck right now.

 He nods. “I--I won’t. I promise. Please.”

 Your hand moves up to stroke his hair softly. “Good boy.”

 You restraighten your back in your seated position atop him. Your hands come to rest against his chest for leverage, and you begin riding him in earnest. Atsumu’s eyelids fall closed again, head thrown back while his mouth hangs open in pleasure.

 “Is this what you wanted ‘Tsumu? Just want to feel me fuck myself on you until I’m satisfied?” You tease as you bounce. You slow to almost a halt and grind your hips in a circle, feeling the way his cock buries itself to the hilt. Atsumu’s hands are balled into tight fists against the couch. He’s moaning freely now--little cries escaping him as your cunt eagerly swallows him down over and over and over again.

“So good… You’re so good inside me, ‘Tsumu. Stretching me out so much every time. I know you know how good that feels.”

 “Ahnn--!” He keens at the memory. The way your soft hands had pressed his legs up against his chest. Wetness from the lube dripping down so tantalizingly slow between his ass cheeks. The cock of your strap buried within him. How utterly full he had felt, stretched around it while you softly cooed praises at him, stroking his cock.

 Fuck he wanted to cum like that again.

 More than that, he just wanted to cum. His hands clench and unclench--mouth hanging open while he revels in memory--in the feeling of your tight, wet, heat sliding up and down him just how he likes--how he needs.

 “I told you it was OK to touch, baby.” You reach down to grasp his hands with your own, bringing them to rest on your hips. “Hold onto me while I fuck myself on you.” You whisper.

 Atsumu’s eyes open at that, watching your body bounce on him. HIs left hand hastily comes up to grasp a breast, relishing the feel of the soft, pliable skin in his grasp.

 You gasp lightly at the sensation of his hand grazing your sensitive nipple. “Fuck yeah. So good for me baby--so good. Gonna make you cum in me like this--”

 Atsumu’s head falls back against the cushions again, his expression knotted in pleasure. “You feel so good. So good… Please… Please I’m-- Ahh!-- I’m getting close.”

 “Aww you’re close already? You wanna cum baby?” You shouldn’t tease. You know you’re close, too. That cresting peak getting closer and closer with every push of his cock into your deepest places. Your breath is ragged from the exertion of your body. You reach behind you blindly, refusing to miss an instant of Atsumu’s delicious expression. Eventually, you find the small bullet vibrator you’d stashed beneath the cushions earlier. You bring the toy to your clit and immediately feel it; that powerful wave looming just behind--threatening to take you over the edge. You steele yourself the best you can, inhaling deeply.

 Atsumu slides his eyes open at the sound and unleashes the mostly ungodly, moan. His voice trembles when he speaks.

 “Can I--can I come? Please--please baby let me come. Let me come.” His hands hold fast to your hips, grip growing steadily tighter as the sensations continue to climb. Faster now--exponentially faster. He’s not sure he could stop if he wanted to.

 “Mmmm hearing you beg like that… Good boy. You can cum, baby. I’ll even cum with you for being so good. Go ahead. Cum in this tight pussy.” Your words are rushed, breath catching here and there. “Give it to me.”

 And Atsumu shatters.

 The way his cry lilts up--high-pitched and unabashed. That wave crashing into him so hard and so completely it takes you down under with him. Atsumu’s mind is empty. Nothing but blinding white as he expends everything he has in him in an instant. His name spills past your lips over and over like a mantra while you ride out your high. The two of you so in-sync, it feels as though your cunt convulses in time with his every pulse. Everything feels so, astonishingly good and intimate.

 You’re both breathing heavily, eyes shut tight as that shared bliss slowly dissipates. You let yourself come down to rest on his chest. It’s suddenly very quiet save for your shared breaths. Eventually you rise onto your elbows, face directly over his.

 “I love you…” Atsumu murmurs, eyes slightly flitting about while he studies the intricacies of your face. He memorized them all long ago, but even in this he is never sated. Your eyes soften, chest fluttering at his tone: so tender and soft.

 “I love you, too.” You say, gently caressing his face. “So much.”

 Atsumu can’t help the smile spreading across his face. In one quick motion, his arms are around your neck and tugging your face down toward him. His head tilts, lips melding themselves against yours when they make contact. The kiss is unusually tender, his lips trying to convey what his words cannot: how he is so thankful and lucky to have you. You, who understands how dear his passion, his career, is to him yet helps him remain grounded so that it does not consume him entirely. You, who remains so, so patient when he is away. You, who is always there to help him take care of himself when he is too busy or exhausted. You, who holds him when he finally fractures under the stress of giving his everything all the time--and who helps him put his pieces back together again and get back at it.

 Your head returns to its resting place on his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath you, lulling you to sleep. You both need to get up, clean up, and get into your actual bed, but the bliss of finally feeling Atsumu’s hard body beneath you. Knowing it is completely yours, at least for a short while… You don’t want to relinquish it for even a second.

There’s another beat of silence before you speak.

 “Wanna go to ‘Samu’s and get tuna tomorrow?” You ask.

 Atsumu groans his approval loudly--so much so one would think he hadn’t just finished a massive meal with the Jackals. That signature cheeky grin returns to his face.

 “Oh my god I love you.”

[cooliogirl101]

so what happened with nana and shamal? are they a less intense version of gin and hisana? 🤔

The first time Shamal sets eyes on Nana Fujiwara, he is convinced he’s seen an angel. He takes in the warmth of her eyes, the silkiness of her hair, the way she smells like white tea and jasmine, and he leaps at her with welcoming arms, ready to embrace her and press himself against those soft, inviting curves.

He’s promptly enveloped in an enormous cloud of pepper spray. That basically sets the tone for the next two years of their relationship.

In general, Nana likes to think of herself as someone who gets along pretty well with people. She knows she has a bit of a temper, but she tries her best to keep it under control and to remain patient, calm, and understanding. 

That all goes out the window when it comes to Trident Shamal.

There are a lot of things about Shamal that she hates. She hates the way he leers at and chases after every girl he finds attractive. She hates his stupid, perverted grin and she hates the stupid, dopey look he gets on his face every time she sees him, and she hates his stupid, fucking ridiculous rule about ‘not treating men.’

Most of all though, she hates how he gets away with it. How every single member of the administration simply laughs it off, telling her it’s “just some harmless flirting, don’t worry about it.” One professor tells her she should be flattered and she almost commits homicide right then and there. 

Then to top everything off, she can’t even avoid him because as the top two members of their class, they always end up getting paired together for projects, which was...just typical. 

Honestly, Nana thinks the fact that she hasn’t killed him yet is an enormous testament to her self control. She could probably put that on her resume under ‘special skills’-- has refrained from murdering classmate (was there a word for that? Classmate-cide? Peer-tricide?) despite being given literally hundreds of reasons to do so. 

Not to say she hasn’t imagined doing so. Vividly. She ended up doodling so many scenarios that she had to get a second notebook. 

~~

Any other day, and Shamal would have been thrilled to have Nana Fujiwara, the loveliest, prettiest, most adorable girl in his class, knocking on his door. Any other day and he would’ve been more than happy to wax poetic about her beautiful smile, her fiery personality, her large, doe-like eyes, the soft curve to those plump, inviting lips, the-- well, the list goes on. 

Right now however, he hadn’t showered in three (or was it four?) days, he was drenched in his own sweat, he was running a fever of 39.5 C, his head was throbbing painfully, everything hurt, and to top everything off, the room smelled strongly of vomit. 

“Shamal, I know you’re in there! Open up!” Shamal groaned miserably, covering his eyes with one arm as the pounding at the door caused his headache to go from ‘someone trying to drive an iron spike through my head’ to ‘iron spike is now on fire and accompanied by a hundred tiny hammers, please kill me now.’ 

“Goddammit Shamal, you were supposed to send me the draft of your half of the project three days ago! Open the door!” Nana continued to shout through the door. “I swear to god, if you don’t open up, I will kick your door down, don’t think I won’t--oh.”

Nana blinked, irritated scowl melting away at the sight of his appearance. She frowned, a touch of concern creeping into her expression.

“Are you...okay?” She asked hesitantly. It was the first time he’d heard Nana Fujiwara sound hesitant and Shamal hated it. 

Summoning up whatever last reserves of strength he had left, Shamal put on his best flirtatious grin, eyes curving up into crescents. 

“Aww, you don’t have to be worried about me, beautiful!” He cooed, then clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach swoop nauseatingly. “I’ll be fine, just had a lil’ too much to drink last night.” He leaned casually against the doorframe, which had the added benefit of keeping him mostly upright. “I just need to sleep it off and then--”

“Yeah no, you’re clearly not okay. Stupid question,” Nana murmured, clearly ignoring everything he’d just said. She stepped closer, placing a hand against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No!” He shouted. Nana flinched, startled, and Shamal cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to do that. 

“No,” he repeated, calmer this time. “No hospitals. I’ll be fine.”

“Shamal--” Nana began. 

“They won’t be able to do anything,” he interrupted. “I’ve been through this before, I know how it goes. I just need to wait it out.” He swallowed. “Going to a hospital won’t help. Please, Nana, I--”

He suddenly doubled over, retching violently the rest of his words disappearing under a river of vomit. Shamal had just enough time to see Nana’s eyes widen before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness. 

~~

Shamal woke up to gentle hands dabbing at his face with a cool washcloth, the pleasant scent of white tea and jasmine, a familiar voice murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.

“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s just me,” the voice whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nana?” Shamal asked, fighting to stay awake. “You stayed.”

There was a pause.

“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah. I stayed.” 

~~

Honestly, Nana had no idea what possessed her to actually listen to her obviously sick, half-delirious, idiot classmate instead of doing the reasonable thing, which would’ve been to dump him at the nearest hospital. 

Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually called her by her name for once, instead of some stupid pet name. Maybe it was the fact that she knew firsthand how miserable hospitals could be and could sympathize with his desire to avoid them at all cost. Or maybe it was the fact that she recognized the tone of voice he’d used when he’d told her that there was nothing the doctors could do to help him-- the kind of resigned certainty that could only come from experience, of having your hopes dashed over and over. It was a tone of voice she was well acquainted with. 

(“I’m sorry Christina, there’s nothing more we can do.”)

It could have been any one of those reasons, or all three of them. She tried not to think too much about it. 

It took another two days before Shamal’s fever started coming down and three before he started sounding halfway coherent again. On the fourth, she found him sitting in bed with his breakfast untouched on the nightstand next to him.

“Is something wrong?” Nana asked, frowning. “Are you feeling nauseous again?” When he shook his head, she continued, “I can make something else if you don’t like--”

“Why?” Shamal interrupted. 

“Why what?” Nana asked, puzzled. “Why did I make eggs? I was looking up things that are good to eat when you’re sick and I came across a recipe for Chinese steamed eggs. I wish I knew about this before, I mean like it provides protein but it’s soft like a custard so you don’t have to chew much and--”

“No, why-- why do all this? Why go to this much trouble for me?” Shamal demanded, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The cooking, and the-- the washing, and you even cleaned up my apartment, and I don’t-- I don’t understand why--”

“Well, what was I supposed to do, just leave your unconscious body lying there on Death’s front doorstep?” Nana asked uncomprehendingly. 

“I threw up on you!” Shamal snapped, sounding mortified. 

“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to throw up on me, and you won’t be the last,” she responded dryly. “I’d be in the wrong line of work if I let a little vomit get to me.”

When he still refused to meet her eyes, she sighed. 

“Look Shamal, I may not like you-- actually, I can’t stand you-- but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer like this. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that.” 

No one deserved to feel like their body was failing them. Nana swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady. 

“I was in a position to help, and so I did,” she said quietly. “It’s as simple as that.”

“...as simple as that,” Shamal echoed. “You truly mean that, don’t you? No favors, no debts, just--” He laughed, a little disbelievingly. “You’d go above and beyond the call of duty even for those you hate, just because it was the right thing to do.” He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You really are something else, Nana Fujiwara.”

Nana glanced away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was just acting weird due to the lingering fever, or-- or dizziness from missing breakfast, but something about the way he was looking at her in that moment--

“I should take your temperature again, it’s been over eight hours since I last checked it,” she said abruptly. “I think I left the thermometer in the other room, wait here.” She marched off and tried to ignore how it felt like running away. “Eat your eggs.” 

[17wishbones]

Whew! It is now time to post the sequel for this little short series I made. Again, it’ll be no more than 7 chapters with the parts split if it’s a continuation. I’m super ecstatic to post this. I’ve been thinking, editing, and brainstorming ideas for this so I hope it reads well for you all. So please, come and enjoy KIMETSU DAIGAKU: SUNFLOWER’S BLESSING. The name may change in the future. Other than that, enjoy chapter 1! :> SN: All are welcome to read, but this is a POC reader insert, FYI. That is all! SN2: I studied Japanese for a time and studied abroad but that was years ago so excuse me if some of the written dialogue is rough. Wanted to show (reader) learning the language even if it’s real easy, conversational sentences. SN3: Rengoku in a button-up white shirt, khakis and a tie? *slams down credit card* - - - - - - - -                        Chapter I: RENGOKU-SENSEI, RENGOKU-SENSEI

Everyday, so far, was a surprise when it came to Rengoku.

You honestly didn’t know what to do with yourself. You had thought studying with Rengoku would be an after school sort of thing as you mingled in classes with other students but somehow, he was able to catch you from different periods for almost a whole week!

Mayamoto-sensei encouraged engagement with local students at the university so she allowed you to go with your new teacher everyday. Jealousy riled the others on how you were getting special treatment other than being the only brown-skinned girl on this trip. 

It bothered you sometimes, because it wasn’t anything like that! But every greeting from Rengoku was positive and enthusiastic. He greeted you kindly in both English and Japanese. He taught you well, proving that he can be strict, attentive, and instructive. Then, at the end, he’d engage you in short conversations to see how well he was doing teaching you the language and how well you were catching on.

“You did great today, _____! You’ve already made great strides on your flow!”

“That’s because you’re a great teacher, Rengoku-sensei. You did have me sweating bullets the first few days, though. I didn’t think I would catch up.” You closed and put your notebook in your bag. “I feel bad because the others don’t like that I get one-on-one time with you like this.”

“Ah, they’re jealous, I see!” He crossed his arms over his chest, his smile forever wide. It was this pose that had you thinking this was déjà vu, but you don’t know why. “Then it can’t be helped! Don’t worry yourself about what they think!”

“I shouldn’t?”

“Nn!” He locked eyes with you again and spoke proudly with his chest out. “Set your heart ablaze and move onward!” An explosive aura filled the room and warmed your body. “No matter what anyone else says, you do what you think in your heart is right!”

Your heart beat fast and your stomach fluttered with butterflies. ‘Why does he look at me like that? Why does he make me feel this way?’ His burning gaze made you feel like he only saw you in his world, but you shook the thought away.

“Is there something on your mind, _____?” 

Your eyes shifted, looking for anything else to say other than what was on your mind. It’d be weird to just be like, ‘hey, I like you and would jump your bones anytime!’ Instead, you found the clock and remembered. “I wanted to visit the flower shop, and see the flower arrangements. I saw one on my way to the girls’ dorm.”

“Let me accompany you!” Rengoku’s open offer made you blush. “I freed myself for the evening just in case!”

This shocked you. “W-what about your schoolwork?”

“I finished it all this morning before meeting with you!”

“And your… colorful friends??” You saw him speak with a few interesting people but he quickly came to you the moment you walked into the fray.

“I have already informed them of my plans this morning!” Your face cracked. He had an answer for everything! “I want to be a good teacher for you and help you as much as I can!”

“Why, Rengoku-sensei?” You asked, curious at what his reason could be.

“Because I like you, _____-chan!”

Your eyes almost popped out. ‘Like me? Like… ‘like me’ like me? Or just like being around me? Whew, boy, you need to stop playing with me because I don’t think my heart can take all of this!’

“Are you ready to go to the flower shop?”

“Y-Yes! Let me get my things, Rengoku-sensei.”

“Kyōjurō.” He corrected you.

“Oh! Kyōjurō…” you circled through the honorifics that he taught you, trying to remember which one was appropriate. “...-kun?”

“Hmm?” He sounded, wanting you to repeat yourself once more.

“Kyōjurō-kun, right?”

A small blush warmed his fair cheeks as he nodded in agreement. “Nn!” He hadn’t expected you to call him that fondly and it ignited his determination to get close to you. A month was not enough time, but he was going to make it work.

You both headed down the slope of the school, crossing a lone shop with beautiful arrangements set everywhere. You ‘ooh’ed and ‘awe’d at each flower that Rengoku named outloud. You repeated, of course. You felt like you were in your own heaven as you gazed at, touched, and smelled the flowers.

You were so happy.

What caught your eyes next were the large, golden blooms held high on long stalks. “Kyōjurō-kun,” he looked over and an overwhelming feeling washed over him when you stood next to the sunflowers, grinning from ear to ear as you asked him, “What’s a sunflower called?”

‘_____, if I could name them after you.’ He walked up next to you, bathing himself in your presence. “Himawari.”

“Himawari. Such a beautiful name for a beautiful flower.”

“I think so, too.” Rengoku wasn’t talking about the sunflower, however.

“Ah, konnichiwa,” you greeted the florist, “Kore wa ikura desu ka?” (How much is this?)

“Go-hyaku-jyuu yen desu.” (500 yen.)

“That’s like… 500 yen, yeah? I think I got it.” As you looked in your bag for the coins instead of breaking the 1000 yen bill.

“Arigatou gozaimasu!” (Thank you so much!) Rengoku bowed and received your wrapped sunflower before handing it to you. “Douzo, _____-chan!” (Here, _____!)

“Ah, Kyōjurō-kun, you didn’t have to buy it for me, but thank you so much!”

“Why wouldn’t I want to buy something for you?” He questioned as you both left the shop. “As I said, I like you, _____-chan! And I want to spend time with you outside of school.”

“Like… together?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, well, honestly, I’d be down for that! Since boys aren’t allowed in the girls dorm, where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

“I want to kiss you,” he answered shamelessly, “Hold you, and never let you go!” You both made eye contact on the walk back. “Though, I have been holding myself back in case you didn’t like me.”

His words electrified you and he hadn’t even touched you yet in any way whatsoever. “It’s not like you’re handsome or anything…”

“You think I’m handsome?” He beamed suddenly.

You tried playing coy but this kind of mannerism didn’t work for you and, honestly, you liked Rengoku’s straightforwardness. “Yes, I do. When we first met, I liked you instantly. You made me feel so nervous and so excited at the same time.”

“Oh?” He thought for a moment. “Can I hold your hand?” He asked sweetly. “I don’t want you to feel nervous around me, only excited! Happy! Loved!”

“Are you sure that’s okay? Won’t people stare more than they already do at us?”

“I don’t care if they do or don’t! Let them stare! As long as I’m with you, I’m happy.” He gently linked his rough hands with your soft ones, locking them. “I feel I am the luckiest man alive right now because you’re here with me!”

“How many girls have you told that to?”

“Only you, my Sunflower!” 

You choked on your own spit. “Your Sunflower? You’re so sure I’m not taken?”

“Yes and yes! I hope to have you for myself as well.”

“For my short time here?”

Rengoku shook his head. “Forever.”

‘Oh my god. Did he just charm his way into my heart?’ You felt the sincerity in his words and saw the genuity in his owlish eyes. “This all really feels like déjà vu.”

“Déjà vu?”

“Like this happened before. It’s… familiar.”

“Nn! It’s fate that we met as we did!”

‘Fate, huh?’ You didn’t notice that you arrived at the girls’ dorm. “Oh, we’re here!” You thought to loosen your hand from his but your arm suddenly didn’t work with you. He wasn’t letting go either. “Our plans tonight are…?”

“Nani o shitai desu ka?” (What do you want to do?)

“Uh!” Always catching you off guard like that kept you on your toes. Besides, practice made perfect. “Karaoke… ni ikitai desu yo!” (I want to go to Karaoke!)

“Nanji ni ikitai desu ka?” (What time do you want to go?)

Your thinking of literally translating what you wanted to say from English to Japanese made each response a little slow. It took time to gain fluency. “Hachiji ii desu ka?” (8 o’clock okay?)

“Close! “Hachiji de ii desu ka” but you did a great job nonetheless! And yes, 8 is fine with me.”

“So…” you felt reluctant to leave him now even if for a few hours, “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll wait for you to change and pack up some clothes!” You looked at him incredulously. “As I said, I want to kiss you, hold you, and never let you go! At least for a night!” Though he spoke his desire, ‘Am I asking too much from her all of a sudden? I can’t read the cute and twisted expressions on her face yet. It is her choice to—’

“Let’s do it!” Rengoku’s mouth dropped in surprise. “The dorm gates close at 9pm anyway, for whatever reason, while the boys are allowed to go out and do as they please with the gate open.” You huffed, annoyed. “Oh. Where do you live?” 

“I live in an apartment 20 minutes down the road.”

“All by yourself?”

“Mhm! I can’t wait to show you! So be quick, Sunflower!” He happily guided you across the gate by the small of your back.

You held in your panic as you got a set of clothes for tomorrow, gathering what you could quickly so you didn’t cross the other students and was out and about with Rengoku as soon as possible.

Honestly, you barely avoided them as you came outside, took him by the hand, and rushed off. They were sure to talk about you, or maybe not at all. You had an over friendly and trusting disposition to a fault, but you were adventurous and open minded. - - - - - - - - - - -  Chapters: 1 (Part 1)/ (Part 2)/ (Part 3) | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

[itsclydebitches]

About Bakugo, I actually think his original characterization is partly why his arc doesn't work for me: it seems like his contempt for others and desire to hurt them is innate, because he was already insulting and humiliating Deku for fun when they were in kindergarden, and at this age I'm not sure it makes sense to blame the adults around him for this behavior. This is also why I don't buy the "childhood friends" narrative, even before the infamous river scene Bakugo was toxic to Deku.

Hard agree, anon. I'm willing to give some wiggle room to the "Bakugo had a messy childhood and that's why he's like this" argument just because I'm not caught up (and thus might be missing some flashbacks/revelations), no one's life is ever perfect, and there's a subjective line between what we read as innocuous tropes vs. realistic traumas (example: is his mom hitting him something we take seriously, or just classic anime "comedy"?), but honestly I'm... not persuaded by that stance. Largely due to what you've said about this contempt being around since the very beginning. Bakugo's cruelty is the introduction to the entire series, the very first thing we see:

First, they're young here. Maybe not kindergarten young, but as we see in the above narration, it's at age four that Bakugo acquired his "I'm the best" thinking (more on that in a second). They're kids. This is not something that developed slowly over the years until Bakugo crossed some kind of line, he's been like this since the very start. Since a kid is capable of forming thoughts, opinions, and making decisions: like attacking another. In what way does this establish them as friends? Izuku literally shaking as he tries to protect another kid Bakugo is has hurt? Bakugo calling him worthless? Gleefully attacking and punching Izuku in the face? They were never friends! Izuku followed Bakugo around because he was paid some kind of attention by him and Bakugo poisoned the well — no one else in class will befriend Izuku. We see this both by the two willing to help beat him up here and, later, when Izuku says he wants to got to U.A. the entire class laughs at both the idea and Bakugo blowing up his desk in response. The bullying is the only kind of "friendship" Izuku has, so he embraces it with a smile and a nickname. Meanwhile, Bakugo allows Izuku to tag along because he makes him feel good in comparison. All Bakugo needs for an ego boost is to look at Izuku. He's the useless, quirkless nobody whose name can be read as "Deku." What's not to like? Izuku makes Bakugo feel good because Bakugo will always come out on top — always win — when pit against him. Did they have a few good moments gushing over All Might? Yeah, but anyone who has been bullied knows that it's not a clear cut "They were consistently awful every second of every day." Sometimes, those moments of pretend or conditional friendship make everything worse.

(As a side note, I keep hearing the more intense fans of Bakugo saying that those who criticize him identify with Izuku "too much" and it's like... yes? He's the protagonist. You're supposed to identify with him. To say nothing of the question of why you'd include such an explicit bullying subplot — arguably at the heart of the narrative in regards to characterization — if you didn't want readers who had experienced bullying to relate to this story. So it's all about victims like Izuku, you're allowed to care, just don't care in a way that holds Bakugo responsible?)

"But Izuku cares about Bakugo. He tried to help him out of the river." Yeah, because Izuku cares about everyone. Overlooking his warped idea of what friendship is due to having no one but Bakugo, Izuku is the kind of person who is going to extend his hand to anyone who needs it, just like All Might would. His extreme compassion and lack of other friends is not good proof that he cares for Bakugo in any true, healthy fashion, let alone that Bakugo cares for him.

As for when this all started, yeah, it was when they were even younger than in the scene above. Toddlers when Bakugo realized he had a strong quirk and Izuku was told he had none. Bakugo's reaction to these events — deciding he's better than everyone else and that justifies harming those "lesser" than him — is instantaneous. That desire was there all along. He just needed an excuse to act on it. After the conversations about the adults' influence on him, I went back to the anime scenes of Bakugo showing his quirk to his class and it's... pretty normal? I mean yes, there's praise, but in what world wouldn't there be praise? A bunch of other kids are going to ooh and ahh over mini explosions and the two teachers, unless they're entirely heartless, are going to tell this kid that he'll indeed make a wonderful hero someday. Those are standard responses for very young kids who aren't going to understand something like, "That is a powerful quirk and you could be a great hero... just don't let that potential go to your head!" There's nothing in those scenes that imply an excess of praise, at least so much that it would totally warp a kid's perspective of others to the extent Bakugo has going on. If I recall correctly, Bakugo's parents are quite disappointed in his behavior, but that never had an impact on him. And as I mentioned previously, we have incredibly talented characters like Momo (getting into U.A. on recommendation), people like Ida who come from families with other heroes they want to impress, Todoroki dealing with a crazy legacy to live up to, tied up in his abuse... yet none of them turned out like Bakugo. All of that didn't kill their compassion, but adults telling Bakugo he has a strong quirk made him into this person? Bakugo wanted to be that person, right from the start.

Honestly, I think a lot of fans latched onto Bakugo — which is awesome! — but didn't want to admit how horrible he actually is. So they took moments largely out of context and repeated them enough until they became fandom staples. Bakugo and Izuku were close childhood friends who just had a falling out they need to come back from. Bakugo was only like this because the adults in his life drove him to that behavior. Izuku loves Bakugo because he can see how good he is, deep down inside, and definitely not because he's been stuck with him since they were toddlers, unable to escape him even at U.A. It's a very sanitized look at their relationship, embraced because fans want them to be friends or lovers. Which is fine! God knows I'm into a ton of "problematic" ships, I just like acknowledging that they're problematic, not trying to sweeten the situation because fandoms have made others feel guilty for liking anything that's not squeaky clean and pure. Bakugo tormented Izuku for their entire childhood. He encouraged him to commit suicide. He tried to keep him from achieving his dream, both by undermining his confidence and outright threatening him (remember burning his shoulder?). He then reworked that obsession when they both got into U.A., trying to prove Izuku's uselessness, failing, and continually struggling with the thought that he's actually a great hero. And it's like... why do I care? This guy is a horrible person, he's been a horrible person since he was a kid, and his greatest challenge for more than half the story is acknowledging that other people aren't worthless trash. His improvement still hasn't gotten him to the standard of an average person, let alone a hero. If Bakugo were a villain, great, or if the story was going to really highlight the corruption of the hero career as a whole (we take anyone with powerful quirks, no matter how awful they are), great, but as a main character hero whose behavior is supposedly just a cover for a fantastic guy, please overlook everything he does and assume he's worthy of your respect anyway? Ehhh. Why do I care about him as a good guy when there are characters like Ida and Uraraka I could stan? To be clear, I'm not saying other fans can't enjoy whatever characters they enjoy, just that from a storytelling perspective I think it's a failure to introduce Bakugo as such an extreme, make him one of the heroes, give him such a selfish struggle, and then expect a lot of the audience to care. Bakugo either needed to be more balanced from the start — regular flaws instead of such an intense adoration for cruelty from the age of four — or the story needed to unpack his behavior in a way it never bothered to.

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part VI

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Geralt tried to make an effort after that.

It was a fine line to walk, of course. He wanted to be more vocal—more honest—about how much he cared about Jaskier. His deception about the nature of the ritual made him itch to tell Jaskier other things, to bury the lie under a heap of truths. The idea that Jaskier might not know how highly Geralt regarded him, might think that Geralt didn’t care, was unacceptable. No matter how uncomfortable it made him, he began to try and show Jaskier, in small ways, that he wanted him.

He just couldn’t show too much, couldn’t let himself speak the deeper truths of his heart. A fine line indeed.

Initially, Jaskier acted almost suspicious. They stayed by the ruins for three days while his head recovered. His ankle took longer, and Geralt could admit that he was coddling a bit. He forced Jaskier to sit as he made camp and cooked dinner, took away his notebook when Jaskier had been squinting at it for too long in the dusk light. He needed to rest, Geralt insisted, and he couldn’t do that if he was constantly at work. Jaskier was resistant, as always. Geralt had tended him a few times when he’d come down with a particularly nasty cold, and once when he’d been honest to gods poisoned by a rival bard. Jaskier was always petulant, irritated at being cooped up even when he couldn’t keep down anything thicker than broth. He was no better now, fighting Geralt every step of the way to recovery.

Geralt tried to retaliate with affection. He sat closer to Jaskier in the evenings, telling him the stories he craved, watching afterwards as he mouthed words up at the stars to fit new ballads. He told Jaskier that he enjoyed the tune he was humming, and Jaskier had blinked at him like he’d grown two heads. When they finally decided it was time to move on, Geralt offered to let him ride Roach, and Jaskier stood gaping at him.

“Excuse me?” he spluttered. “Did you just say you want me to ride Roach?”

Geralt sighed through his nose. “Was that not clear enough?”

Jaskier leaned against Roach, one arm out to steady himself on the saddle. His ankle still wouldn’t hold his weight for more than a few moments. “I should throw something silver at you,” Jaskier said, “or douse you in holy water. You’ve been replaced by a spirit.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s tone was a warning.

“A much nicer spirit,” Jaskier said as he began pulling himself up into the saddle. “A very kind spirit who lets his poor injured friend ride his very sweet, docile horse. Nice Roachy. Please don’t throw me off.”

“She won’t buck you,” Geralt snorted, hiding a grin. He took the reins and began leading them back to the main path, heading southwest. Their next destination, according to Triss, would be just outside of the Brokilon Forest. The last of the moonflax supposedly grew in that area, and hopefully the locals would know how to point them in the right direction. They found their way back to the main road easily enough, and it was several long moments before Jaskier spoke.

“I’m really fine, you know,” he said, and when Geralt glanced up at him, he found Jaskier staring resolutely down the road, a small pinch to his brow. “So you can stop being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Geralt said automatically.

“You are,” Jaskier insisted, looking down at him. His eyes squinted at Geralt as if he were trying to see straight through his skull. “And I know it’s coming from some misplaced guilt that you’re carrying around, thinking that it’s all your fault that I got hurt, as if somehow your witcher powers could stop a floor from collapsing—”

“I’m not—” Geralt started, and then bit back the words. He was guilty, and of course Jaskier could sense it on him. It just wasn’t entirely for the reason Jaskier thought. Instead he said, “It’s not about that.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrows in an expression that meant he thought he was about to win an argument. “Then why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, jerking his chin forward cockily. Like he was already sure of the answer.

The question gave Geralt pause, literally. He stopped for a moment on the road, blinking up at Jaskier. His hair was backlit by the noonday sun, his eyes as brilliantly blue as the cloudless sky above them. It was a shame, Geralt thought, that he’d never before seen Jaskier from this angle. He’d have to let him ride Roach more often. “I realized I wasn’t really, before,” he finally said, haltingly. “I mean—I want to be. Nice. Nicer.” He grimaced.

Jaskier’s expression changed to one of blatant shock, and then smoothed into something softer that Geralt couldn’t identify. It made his breath quicken in his chest, catching in his throat. “You’re a good man, Geralt. You don’t have to perform social niceties for that to be true.”

“I meant to you,” Geralt clarified, shifting uncomfortably. They were stopped in the middle of the road now, and he knew he should probably keep going, because if he kept looking up at Jaskier during this conversation it was going to feel a lot more profound than it needed to be. “I don’t really care about what every farmer or lord I deal with thinks of me.”

“But you care what I think,” Jaskier replied, face once again open with surprise. He’d been making that expression a lot lately, Geralt had noticed. Like Geralt kept doing things that made him reconsider his entire worldview.

“Yes,” Geralt said simply, because it was true. “You’re my friend. I should be nice to you.” He quirked a smile, hoping to break the tension. “That’s what Ciri tells me, at least.”

It had the desired effect; Jaskier tossed his head back and laughed, and Geralt was forced to reconcile himself with the long line of his throat. His mouth went dry at the sight, and he forced himself not to move—not to reach out, not to pull Jaskier off Roach’s back, not to press his lips to the pale skin that peeked out of Jaskier’s loose collar. He stayed stock still, until Jaskier looked down at him with a grin. “Ciri is a smart young woman,” Jaskier said, “and I can’t find fault with her argument. Though truly, don’t make any great effort on my account. I know how difficult I can be to tolerate.”

Jaskier’s mirth made something relax in him, and Geralt found himself smiling back. He unstuck his limbs from the ground and turned to continue on, giving Roach’s reins a gentle tug. Jaskier leaned forward at the sudden movement, and Geralt allowed himself one touch, reaching out to put a hand on Jaskier’s thigh, stabilizing him. Wryly, he said, “You really aren’t.”

Jaskier looked down toward him, and leaning forward as he was, they were suddenly much closer than before, and Jaskier’s face was softened again in surprise and— something else. Geralt felt sure, for one crystalline moment, that Jaskier was going to lean down the last few inches to press their lips together. He held his breath in anticipation, and for a moment Jaskier wavered. And then Roach huffed and canted forward a step, and Geralt’s hand jerked where it was clenched white-knuckled around the reins. He leaned back and away, taking his hand off of Jaskier’s thigh, and felt cold despite the warmth of the day. Jaskier straightened in his seat, and when Geralt looked up at him again his face was blank, squinting up at the sky.

Geralt’s hand burned as he started forward again, leading them down the road towards their destination. He had been right, he thought, to avoid touching Jaskier. Every instance was like flying closer to the sun. He couldn’t survive it if he kept pushing his limits.

*

They stopped for the night at an inn. It was unusually vacant; they were far enough south now that the last vestiges of winter had faded behind them, and the roads had been plenty busy. On their way into town they’d passed a large band of travelers—merchants, a cobbler, several families—headed in the other direction, so it was likely they drove off any others passing through the area. The innkeep looked tired, a woman who couldn’t be older than Jaskier but had a full head of gray hair. She gave Geralt a shrewd look when they entered, but was quickly swept up in Jaskier’s charm, especially when he exaggerated the limp a bit.

“Afraid there’ll be no one to play for this evening, my boy,” she said, the thick accent of southern Velen making her words sound like chewed barley. “You’ll have to pay for a full night.”

The rate she gave was fair, not marked up for the presence of a witcher as far as Geralt could tell. They were well off on coin after a drowner contract he’d taken before the ruins. They were always particularly active in the spring, having grown hungry under the ice and snow all winter. Geralt had cleared out at least thirty of them from a lake and its nearby stream, gaining no more than a few shallow claw marks but a hefty bag of coin for his efforts. “The rooms are a touch small,” the innkeep said. “You’ll want two; no chance of sharing with this one’s shoulders as they are.” She nodded to Geralt, her gaze passing over his broad chest. He huffed, annoyed.

Jaskier hummed himself, a slight frown passing over his features. “Are you quite sure? We’re accustomed to sharing, and it would save us some coin—”

“We have coin,” Geralt said, slapping the money down on the counter. Jaskier made a noise of protest that Geralt silenced with a look. “I don’t want to risk fucking up your leg by lying on top of it. Two rooms, one night.” It was fine. They were in no danger of running low on funds. There was no need for them to spend a night in discomfort. “It’s this or the road, bard.”

At that Jaskier pouted and dropped the issue.

*

That night they ate dinner together in the main room of the inn. The food was good, hearty liver sausages with a thin vegetable broth to wash it down, and a loaf of dark oat bread. The ale wasn’t half bad either, even watered down as it was. Once they finished eating, Geralt allowed Jaskier to goad him into a few rounds of Gwent. He never understood why Jaskier wanted to play—Geralt always won handily. Five extra decades of experience and a long tradition of playing for his meals made him the better player by far, and his deck was tournament worthy. Yet Jaskier needled him at least weekly until Geralt gave in and pulled out the cards. Maybe he thought eventually Geralt would let him win. He would continue to be disappointed.

It was, admittedly, hard to concentrate on the game when the light of the fire backlit Jaskier just so, like the halo of some old god. His long fingers worried at the edges of the cards, a terrible tell he couldn’t seem to shake. He always played with the corners of particularly good ones in his hand. Geralt could almost use it to predict the end game totals by this point. Jaskier’s fingernails were a patchwork of color; he’d had them painted sometime while he was staying in Oxenfurt, and the dark burgundy was almost completely chipped away after a few weeks on the road. It was a miracle that the color clung on at all, or that Jaskier had allowed them to remain partially decorated when they lost their perfect shine. Maybe there was a poetic appeal. Something about one’s masks being slowly chipped away, or some such nonsense.

He won the first game. Jaskier begged for best three out of five, and Geralt won the next two games as well. Jaskier finally relented, and the smile on his face wasn’t that of a good natured loser accepting his lot. He said, “I suppose you win again, my dear,” and his eyes were warm as he looked at Geralt.

It was rare that Jaskier could be described as soft in any way. He was boisterous, and excitable, and generally prone to fits of dramatic romanticism or unbridled rage in equal measure. Sometimes he was melancholy, and other times—sometimes when he was very drunk, he was giddy, and he would rope Geralt into unwise activities like they were school children. He was almost never quiet. Even in moments of calm he would be busy moving, strumming his lute or scratching in the margins of his notebooks or singing a new line or two at the stars. But now he was sitting and looking at Geralt over a pile of cards, and he was still. Just looking, chin resting on one hand, as if Geralt’s face held the key to an interesting riddle he was trying hard to solve.

Geralt cleared his throat, feeling unmoored. “Time for bed. Early start tomorrow.”

Like that the spell was broken, and Jaskier rolled his eyes with a groan. “And for what reason? Roach, for one, would deserve the rest. We mustn’t always get up at the first light of dawn, witcher.”

“But we will,” Geralt said, feeling his lips twitch. He turned towards the stairs to hide it, hearing Jaskier’s uneven gait follow after him. He resisted the urge to turn around and offer his arm to assist, knowing that it would only annoy Jaskier and put them in close proximity. Something he was trying his best to avoid.

They parted ways at the doors to their rooms, set next to each other in the hall. They were almost identical, and Geralt wondered if at some point a wall had been constructed down the middle of a room to provide the inn with more to rent out. The result was two cramped spaces, with only enough room for a small bed pushed up against the wall and a trunk across from it. Geralt had deposited his things in the corner before heading back down in search of dinner earlier, and he now set about making sure that his equipment was taken care of. There was a spot on his armor that needed to be reinforced after a drowner had scratched it. The leather was still supple from regular oiling, but he would need a professional to look it over soon. Even so, he was capable of making his own minor repairs until then, backing the fragile spot with spare pieces that he kept for this purpose. The work was grounding in its familiarity. Once he was done he set about sharpening his swords as well. The silver would soon need a new coating; Geralt could see a few places where the darker iron core shone through, where he’d blocked the swipe of a griffin’s talon a month back. A problem for another town.

He could hear Jaskier in the room on the other side of the wall. It was thin enough that there may as well have been no barrier between them whatsoever. He could hear the bard humming to himself, the rustle of cloth as he tossed aside his clothes for the day. No, not tossed—Jaskier was meticulous about his clothes unless roaring drunk or in a haze of academic preoccupation, which tonight he was not. Geralt could almost picture the other man as he carefully folded his doublet over the back of a chair, set his undershirt to hang near the window where it would dry out after the sweat of the day. His pants would be pressed into a neat square and put into his bag alongside his other colorful finery. His hose would be draped near the doublet, his boots neatly set by the door. Dressed down to his braies, he would slip into bed.

The creek of the mattress came from closer to Geralt’s room than he might have expected. The beds must be pushed up against the same wall, mirroring each other.

Geralt slowly and methodically finished his tasks, sliding his swords back into their scabbards and putting them under the bed, within easy reach. With a flick of his wrist, he extinguished the lone candle in the room. He could hear from the noises filtering in from outside that Jaskier’s room had been the one graced with a window. No matter; he could see fine without the added help of the moonlight.

By the time he slipped into the small bed, Jaskier’s breaths had evened out in sleep. His heartbeat was loud through the wall, louder than it usually seemed in their small campsite, with the sounds of the forest drowning it out. The bed really was too small for two, Geralt thought, rolling over to stare at the wall. If they’d shared, they would have had to sleep practically on top of each other. Geralt would have had to wrap himself around Jaskier just to keep him in place. Put his hand over the bard’s heart and felt the rhythm drum out under his fingertips.

He turned around, pressing his back to the wall, listening to the sound of the bard on the other side. His chest ached. The bed felt huge and empty, big enough to swallow him whole. A ridiculous fucking notion. The thing was tiny.

Geralt wondered, really and truly, when it had gotten this bad. When he’d let it get this bad. He pressed his back more firmly against the wall, and fell asleep to the symphony of his own heartbeat matching Jaskier’s one to four.

[realcube]

waking up next to the haikyuu!! boys hcs 💤

pairings: kageyama x reader, akaashi x reader, suna x reader

requested; thank you to @kageyamas-whore for the idea!

tw// mentions of violence 

Tobio Kageyama

tobio kageyama; others may know him as the king of the court

but you know him as the king of the thigh pillow-

well, it’s not always the thigh but it is by far his favourite

but he’s open-minded; he has used your chest, your stomach, your shoulder, your shin, your hip-- basically any and every body part that you’d allow him to touch

like seriously, he’d rather use any part of your body as a pillow instead of his actual pillow because - in his own words - “you’re comfy.”

so in a way, you don’t wake up next to him but rather under him

sometimes when he sleeps over at your house, you deadass just wake up and forget about him for a moment bc he’s not laying beside you

then, after stretching you’ll try hop out of your bed to go to the bathroom and momentarily panic when you feel tingly pressure on your leg

bc your immediate thought is ‘spider!’ as if a massive fkn spider had just crawled into your room somehow and was just vibin’ on your leg

but you let out an audible sigh of relief when you realised that it is just kageyama’s thick skull 

.......

--ok, i’m just gonna say it..the mf drools 

SORRY OMG HE JUST RUBS ME AS THAT KINDA GUY AND I THINK IT’S CANON TOO LOOK!

yeah so ofc if he is drooling all over your thigh - clothed or not - you’re gonna instinctively want to get him off 

but he looks so peaceful when he is sleeping and you don’t want to ruin that by making him move 🥺

but then again, maybe he should’ve taken that into consideration before he fell asleep on you! (ノ｀Д)ノ

you were conflicted - to say the least

so you decided to just to use your phone as you waited for him to wake up and then when he was awake, you’d reprimand him

but your plan went to shit once he eventually woke up with his dopey, half-asleep yet kinda hot expression and his adorable bed-head

not to mention his hoarse, croaky voice ◉_◉ “morning, (y/n).”

curse him for being so naturally charming in the morning 눈_눈

so what was supposed to be ‘kageyama, can you stop drooling on me in your sleep?’ turned into a ‘good morning, baby.’

needless to say, waking up with kageyama in the morning is far from romantic or intimate 

but it was definitely cute- he’s precious tbh 

Keiji Akaashi

you rarely wake up before him

mans up at 6AM and sits in bed, reading a book or scrolling through Pinterest as he waits for you to wake up 

when you awake, the first thing he does is place a kiss on your forehead - religiously

you’ll be all groggy and disoriented; really feeling that morning crust 

and he’ll just be like “good morning, love.” 😇 with his morning glow bc he’s already showered 

it’s unfair tbh, especially if you’re not a morning person

bc akaashi is just sitting there, book in hand, lookin like whole-ass deity as light seeps into the room passed the blinks and highlights all his prominent features 

and you’ve literally just woken up, hissing lowly as the stray light burned your retinas 

sometimes akaashi looks so scrumptious in the morning, you think that you’ve ascended to the afterlife and met a holy-being at the gates of heaven 

actually, that was a lie 

but akaashi genuinely looks so angelic, you can’t help but joke about it, “god, is that you?”

akaashi rolled his eyes, playfully pinching your cheek, “maybe.” he snickered, sitting his book aside before pulling you up by under your arms to wrap you in a warm, morning hug, “you’re so cute, (y/n).” he’d whisper into your hair. 

“stop flirting with me, god.” 

Rintarō Suna

sleeping is suna’s second favourite sport 

and he’s great at it too; he’s like the ushijima of sleeping y’know?

it’s simply what he was built to do 

hence, you always end up waking up before him 

also, off topic for a second, but if you do uncommon stuff in your sleep like kicking, talking etc, suna is the perfect guy for you bc your sleeping antics  literally do not effect/bother him at all

you could be using him as a punching bag at 4AM but if he is in REM sleep, he would just continue resting tbh 

anyway, whenever you wake up and he’s still asleep, you must give him a lil’ kiss on the back of the hand 

his sleeping form is not much of a sight, though

it’s really neutral; not very flattering but not unflattering either- y’know

he’s not like drooling, snoring, making weird faces or anything; he looks fine! contrary to popular belief, it’s nothing to gawk at  tbh, it’s just like -_- zzz

when he eventually wakes up, he loves it when you’re the first thing he sees

like if you’re sitting next to him on the bed, just texting and he wakes up, he’ll just silently stare at you

and when you realise he’s finally awake, you’ll have to haul him out of bed, 

“suna,” you whined, tugging at his leg as he clung desperately to the headboard, “it’s 3PM! please get up, i’m so fuckin’ bored on my own!”

“i’m still tiredddd.” suna groaned, aware that it was probably just morning fatigue or his desire to just laze around with you, but he found it funny to tease you. 

also, the fact that you were holding his ankle, gave him the opportunity to kick you (potentially) in the face and the amount of self-control it took him to not

you aggressively shook his leg, “get up right now or i’m going to make you watch all the Sharknado movies with me!” you yelled, conscious of the fact suna was doing this just to annoy you but you still needed to get him out of bed one way or another.

“you’re resorting to torture now? wow.” he muttered, releasing his grip on the headboard and allowing you to drag him off the bed 

however, that was more of a one time thing bc usually you just let him hibernate through the whole day or he gets up on his own accord

if you ever manage to sleep-in passed him- he’ll wake you up immediately, under the impression that you’re dead 

“(y/n), are you okay? you’re not dead, are you?”

[creativia10]

Janus in Intrusive Thoughts

What if Janus was there during Intrusive Thoughts? Pairing: Janus x Remus

Word count: 1427

Warnings: Innuendos, Suggestive Themes

Notes: I don't know what this is. It was just fun. I had the urge to write this. Not to be taken too seriously. Also posted on my AO3. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Janus stretched his multiple limbs in the background. They were all distracted with dear Remus’ appearance, they didn’t even notice he was there. Which was perfectly fine with him. He was just there to watch the drama unfold anyways.

He lounged in a chair in the background, that he summoned, and sipped his wine. He didn’t have a particular desired outcome from this, despite having prompted Remus to reveal himself to Thomas (although he did have exasperatedly explain he did not mean to go in the nude). It was fun to be included in his little cameo in Remus’ song intro though. Every time he looked over to Roman on the ground, he couldn’t help but snort. Ah, sibling dynamics. So, Janus was literally just sitting there, commenting and reacting to Remus’ shenanigans, not even bothering to try and seem inconspicuous. They were literally too distracted to notice.

Then, he perked up when Logan mentioned the only way it would be faking it was if Thomas were to actually do something and then lie about it. Which prompted Remus to say,

“Oo, how fun. You know who could help us with that?” Remus said with a little shoulder wiggle. Janus’ theme song played during that. Janus rolled his eyes. Well, he didn’t need further prompting. As Thomas started to protest, Janus suddenly appeared next to Remus.

“Oh dear, if you wanted my company you simply needed to say so. ” Everyone balked. Thomas held his head and groaned. Virgil glared at him. Patton looked around in concern. Roman mumbled something, and Logan simply looked annoyed.

Remus gave him an unhinged smile. Janus pointedly did not look.

“You aren’t even part of this.” Virgil sneered. Janus simply shrugged.

“Oh I know, I’m just here. Not really going to participate unless needed.”

Virgil looked at him suspiciously. Remus clapped his hands excitedly.

"Oo, Dark side buddy! Now I have someone to actively innuendo while I’m here!”

Janus sighed, already starting to regret this, but not moving. Partly due to pride. They all seemed to just keep looking back and forth between Remus and Janus in surprise.

“What, no comment Dee-Dee?”

“When have I ever said you could call me that?”

“You haven’t said that I couldn’t!”

Janus simply hmmed and pretended to check his nails, as though he weren’t wearing gloves. Because he was just like that.

Patton hesitated,

“Uh…do we continue?”

Thomas sighed. Virgil kept darting his eyes between the dark duo and Thomas. Remus simply smiled and leaned his chin onto Janus shoulder, Janus pretended not to react. Remus wiggled a bit against him. Janus sighed. He was not blushing from everyone watching. If anyone were to ask, he would blame Remus. Blaming Remus was always a good plan. It didn’t hurt that Remus usually didn’t mind.

Thomas twisted up his face, seeming unsure how to react to the two of them, especially with how Remus was being with Janus.

They somehow tried to continue, as Thomas and Virgil had deigned this important to resolve. It was clear everyone else’s attention was divided though, at the atmosphere had drastically changed from the moment Janus appeared, despite him not doing anything for the current conflict.

“I’m sorry, this is very distracting. Can we get him out of here?” Virgil asked, gesturing at Deceit.

Janus rolled his eyes and waved his hand, obscuring his appearance.

The others blinked at his sudden seeming disappearance.

Remus snorted.

“Oh, Dee-Dee. That’s not gonna help. Don’t think I’ll stop touching you just cause they can’t see you anymore.” To which Remus wrapped his arms around Janus, looking like he was hugging air. He moved his hands lower, like he was about to imitate a physical innuendo, but Janus reappeared and pushed his arms away.

“That’sss unnecesssary.” Janus turned completely towards Remus as he said that so the others in the room wouldn’t see his returning blush. Remus simply smiled and laughed again.

Somehow, they jumped back into things. Patton barreled back into it as though to keep from another distraction to come about before they could help Thomas. Remus returned to his spot against Janus. He continued his shenanigans almost as though he wasn’t practically leaning on Janus. Janus was, more subtly reacting to the drama unfolding around him. Virgil pointedly glanced at Janus when he asked about if Thomas was lying, despite Janus not saying anything on the matter. Janus almost wasn’t sure why he wasn’t doing more. It totally wasn’t because of the distraction of Remus’ warm body pressed up against him. No, of course not at all.

Remus had definitely calmed down since Janus showed up as well. Even when Remus went through other transformations, he was still touching Janus in some way. It didn’t really make sense with what they were trying to do, but whatever. Janus knew fully well he could leave at any time. He was only there to watch this unfold, after all. Totally.

Janus pointedly sighed and stepped away, not looking as Remus started to undress before Logan clarified his wording, having known where Remus would go with that.

He hmmed when Remus revealed his name, tempted to say something about a lack of drama in withholding his name, if he hadn’t just witnessed all the crazy stuff Remus had been doing that episode, like an entire song intro that was so totally extra. Fitting for a creativity.

Janus sighed when Remus screamed to distract them as they got closer to a resolution. At one point, not long after, Remus leaned in, not even bothering to keep his lips from touching Janus’ ear as he whispered,

“Watch this.” Right before he disappeared, only to jump out before Logan could stop them with,

“Nails on a chalkboard!”

Janus didn’t jump and then snort. Nope. Things started to calm down eventually. Boring. As it seemed some of them were about to sink out, Janus prepared to as well.

“Well, that all certainly seemed exciting,” Janus started. Remus snorted.

“Oh, exciting?” Remus stepped over, to where Roman would have room to get up now. “You haven’t seen exciting yet. You know I could do more,” He said with another shoulder wiggle and suggestive eyebrows.

Janus waved a hand at that.

“Oh please, that’s unnecessary. You don’t want to draw this out too much, there’s a sense of good tension. Some creativities are good with that. So, I think I shall take my leave, it’s a good moment for it, before all the mushy stuff."

Remus pouted at him. “Aww, we didn’t even get to make out in front of everyone though! Voyeurism, you know?”

Janus suddenly sunk out at that, into his room. His face was burning as he glared at nothing, fists at his side. A few moments later,

“Oh Jaaaaanuus~”Janus sighed as he felt Remus sidle up to him again. He touched him way more this time, and Janus felt the weird slide of Remus’ tentacles against him as well, starting to prod and play with Janus’ clothes.

“Remus,” Janus said simply.

“Were you impressed~ with my introduction~?” Remus asked.“

In case you couldn’t tell, I don’t often say if I’m impressed by something,” Janus said. Remus growled and pushed himself even closer. Janus couldn’t withhold his shiver, sure the other was smirking.

“Aw, Jan~” He faux whined, then leaned in to say into his ear, “You know that whole thing got me really riled~ up.” He wiggled against Janus again. Janus feigned a sigh and smiled as he said,

“Like that really takes much.” He turned around and they both grinned at each other.

“You get on from mischief just as much as me,” Remus said.

“I will say nothing on the first part of that statement.”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you satisfied? Even though they think they beat you?”

“Oh, I don’t know about satisfied. I just found myself driven towards my snaky even more.”

Janus rolled his eyes again, but he was still smiling.

“You see me all the time.”

“Hm, so? Today was still fun, you must admit.”

“Hm perhaps. Even though they thought they ‘won’?”

“Eh,” Remus shrugged. “I was more for chaos, which still happened, so I don’t really care.” Remus grabbed Janus’ hand and dragged him toward the bed.

“But now I need to get this excitement out of my system, who better than with the chaotic side.”

“Chaotic? I don’t know if I can agree to that.”

“Mm, you’re more of a reserved chaos.”

“Hmm, I suppose.”

and with that Remus pushed Janus onto the bed, their strange banter continuing.

[obxcunt]

Rafe Cameron x Pogue Reader.

A/N: First of all, this is probably trash, i’m really sorry and i’m insecure about my writing hehe. Anyway, Rafe is the cocky asshole and Y/N the horny Pogue, enemies to lovers vibes, classic. And this is their story or more specifically: How they ended up together.

Warning: Light Smut, Sexual tension, Fluff, Light Angst, idk mention of Ward Cameron and John B? Sounds like a warning to me, you might feel the need to throw your panties at Drew afterwards?

Words: 5K

You started working at the country club this summer, which is where you “met” Rafe Cameron. But it wasn’t really the first time, as a Pogue you were already aware of the Kook’s bad reputation. However, this is when things unexpectedly started to change between the two of you.

At first, you tried to avoid him and his friends as much as possible: which caught Rafe’s attention and intrigued him. You were annoyed by his cocky attitude, vulgarity and poor comments regarding your lifestyle and friends but you couldn’t deny his charm.

One day, after another sexist comment from Topper, you decided to call him out in front of everyone, flipping him off on your way back to the bar as well. And your sudden bold attitude picked Rafe’s interest, leaving the Kook boy wordless and turning him on at the same time.

That’s when Rafe started to come to the club by himself without telling anyone, wanting to admire you in peace. He was obsessed with your work uniform, with the way your short tennis skirt always exposed your legs to him. He couldn’t stop picturing himself caressing your beautiful thighs, his mind going wild at the thought of you sitting on his lap.

Rafe didn’t know how to handle his new feelings towards you, especially the most sinful ones. He wasn’t used to rejection, usually women are the ones coming up to him. But you weren’t one of them, you were mostly ignoring him, torturing the Kook boy through the act. You guys were supposed to be enemies, but deep down, Rafe hoped you didn’t hate him.

On the other hand, you tried to not pay attention to the cocky Kook boy. But today, you knew something was going on due to Rafe’s lack of discretion. You could feel his blue eyes devouring you from across the room as you walked by. He was sitting at his usual table with his friends, drinking in silence and ignoring their conversation, too busy looking at you with intensity: the persistence making you blush uncontrollably. And right now, as Rafe licked his lips: tasting the sweet alcohol he just drank. He smirked to himself, wondering how you’d taste.

You left the room, followed by the Kook boy. “What do you want, Cameron?” You asked harshly, noticing his presence as you both walked to the exit. You were craving fresh-air, your cheeks still burning from his last action. “Do you have plans for tonight?” He asked back, opening the door for you, your eyes lingering on his bicep as he held it. “Why—“ You paused, waving at some customers coming in as you both stood next to the entrance. “I’m not interested.” Rafe laughed, grabbing your wrist as you tried to walk out. “Wait,“ He turned you around, gently pushing you against the wall, not caring about the people looking at the two of you. “One date, one chance.” “I don’t understand, you—“ You licked your lips, trying to ignore the warm feeling invading your body as he looked down at your lips. “This is literally our first real conversation, the insults and shitty comments you usually throw at me don’t count. And now, after all, you want to take me on a date? Why? I’m not a dirty Pogue anymore?” He shrugged his shoulders, playing it cool while he was freaking out on the inside, scared to get rejected by you. “I— I don’t know. You seem like a cool girl.” You raised a brow, then rolled your eyes at him. “If this is some kind of bet—“ “No! It’s not— Y/N, trust me it’s not. I’m not very good at this…” You sighed, a bit intrigued by his offer. “Fine, I'm giving you one chance, Cameron.”

Surprisingly, he wasn’t playing with you: preparing a whole pic-nic on the beach by himself, with a few candles and pillows laying on the duvet he had placed on the sand. “Wow, this is actually really nice.” You said, sitting down next to the nervous boy. Rafe smirked, admiring your features glowing under the sunset’s light. He couldn’t tell, but you were trying your best to not look at him, guilt washing you over as soon as you started thinking he looked hot tonight. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. “Don’t look at me like that.” You said, looking at the horizon. “I— I wasn’t,” You chuckled. “I can’t help it.” He admitted, swallowing hard as you looked back at him. “Did you tell your friends about our date?” He asked. “Of course not, and you didn’t say anything to yours either, right?” He shook his head, making you laugh. “I don’t even understand what I'm doing here.” “Stop pretending you’re not attracted to me,” You laughed nervously. “I know you feel it too.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze once again. “Listen, i’m sorry for the— everything.” “Rafe Cameron, apologizing,” You smiled at the irony. “That’s very unexpected. Is that your way to get into my pants, Cameron?” The Kook boy coughed, drinking a few sips of his beer to cool down. “I— No.” He said, shaking his head. “You don’t want to have sex with me?” His eyes widened at the question. “Yes, I mean— No.” He groaned, while you simply laughed at his frustration. His eyes went down your thighs, those thighs. ���Cameron… Don’t.” You warned, his eyes meeting yours and finding a sudden touch of desire in them. “God—“ You groaned, pulling on your skirt with embarrassment. “This is so weird.” He slowly leaned his head towards yours. “I wanna touch you, so bad.” He murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. You surprised yourself by briefly looking at his own, secretly wanting to taste them. “I—“ You paused, goosebumps now covering your skin as you felt his fingers wandering along your thigh. You looked down, enjoying the sight of his large hand resting on your thigh. “You want it.” He said, clearly amused by your reaction to his touch. “Wh— What? No!” You objected, smacking his hand away in panic. “But—“ “I— I wanna go home!” You blurted out, getting up and walking away from a very confused Rafe Cameron. Truth is, you wanted this as much as he did but you couldn’t lose your composure, not with him.

A few days passed since your catastrophic date with Rafe. And he’s been avoiding the country club since then, which annoyed you way more than it should’ve had. You ended up missing seeing him, searching for the tall boy’s silhouette everywhere at the club, to only find a void eating you alive. The Pogues knew something was wrong: noticing your silence, how much you were lost in your thoughts and the certain sadness occupying your gaze. You blamed it all on insomnia, too scared to admit your attraction to Rafe Cameron, their enemy.

You saw him again at Midsummers, finally. You were working with your friends that night, not expecting to see him walking in with his family, and a beautiful woman at his arm. You weren’t supposed to feel jealous, but couldn’t help it. He looked at you for the first time in a week, his deep blue eyes not leaving you as he kissed his date on the cheek at, asshole. “Is everything alright, Y/N?” Pope asked, walking up to you. “Yes...” You mumbled, faking a smile. “I— I need to use the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” He nodded, watching you leave, catching the Kook boy’s eyes following you through the crowd.

Once you were inside, you let out a sigh, both hands holding on the edges of the sink as you enjoyed the silence. Rafe ended up following you to the bathroom, a bit worried. He knocked on the door without introducing himself, forcing you to move back to it. “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at the tall boy standing on the doorstep. “I saw you leaving and—“ You snorted, interrupting him. “Shouldn’t you be with your date, Cameron?” He smirked, sensing the bitterness in your question. “Jealous, Y/N?” He briefly looked behind him, examining the empty hallway, before pushing you back inside as he walked in. He closed the door and locked it, without breaking eye-contact. “I’m not jealous.” You lied, taking a better look at his appearance. He looked sensational in his baby-blue suit, your curiosity wondering how his muscles looked underneath it. “You’re the one who rejected me, remember?” He continued, leaning against the door, repulsing the urge to touch you. “Because all of this doesn’t make any sense!” You snapped out of frustration, scratching your head. “W— We are not supposed to do this, we are not supposed to feel this way.” He licked his lips, walking up to you. “We?” You rolled your eyes at his usual cockiness, crossing your arms. “Did you miss me, Y/N?” He asked, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb, going down your bottom lip as he held your chin with his fingers: the action sending shivers down your spin. You fluttered your eyes, enjoying the feeling. “Look at you, getting weak under my touch.” You opened your eyes, annoyed. “Fuck you.” You hissed, hitting his toned chest, both hands finding their way to his neck. “I will.” He said, pushing against the wall, making you whine. “Rafe—“ He slammed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, the both of you fighting for dominance with your tongues as he kept his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You were finally tasting them, tasting him: and it was even better than you had imagined it. “Fuck—“ He moaned against your lips, the both of you craving way more than a kiss, the both of you needing to feel the void. “Jump, baby.” He ordered in a whisper, kissing your jawline as he smacked your ass. You obeyed, wrapping your legs around his clothed body and letting the Kook boy carry you to the sink counter. Your hands went directly to his belt, a soft moan escaping your lips as Rafe licked your neck, leaving wet kisses all over skin. “Listen to me,” He said, grabbing your jaw to look at you in the eyes, your neediness driving him insane. “We’re gonna have to make it quick, alright?” You nodded, blushing as you felt your stomach twitch at the sound of his voice. “Good girl.” You moaned at his words, watching him unbuttoning your blouse. You had sex with Rafe Cameron for the first time that night, but it wouldn’t be the last.

The next day, you didn’t know what to expect from him. However, you were both eager to see each other again. You saw him during the day, while walking down the stairs to meet someone at the bar. A sudden shyness invaded you, your cheeks heating up at the thought of him: pulling on your hair, calling you his, choking you, controlling your body, cumming inside you. He noticed you, following you in the hallway and gently grabbing your wrist to turn you around, a devilish smirk on his face. “Hey, you come here often?” He asked, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “Rafe…” You laughed, admiring the few marks on his neck. “Last night—“ “Last night was fucking amazing.” You smirked, biting your lower lip. “Yeah, maybe we should do it again someday.” You said. “Yeah, maybe we should…” You hummed, getting lost in his blue eyes, ignoring the noises surrounding the two of you. Last night, Rafe made you feel alive, and you were already dying to feel it again, no matter how inappropriate it was. You sighed, grabbing the tall boy’s face, pulling him in a heated kiss, listening to your heart rather than your head. You both pulled away, out of breath and turned on. “The closet?” Rafe suggested, driven by lust. “Please.”

And it happened again, again and again. You decided to stop counting at some point, enjoying each time like it was the last one. You guys were having sex everywhere, at any time of the day and night, it felt like an addiction: at the country club, at parties (which was dangerous), at his house (in his room, the shower, the pool, his dad’s office) and yours, in the back of his truck or even on the beach. You both liked it rough, but sometimes it turned into soft-love making: “What’s wrong, Rafe?” You asked, coming out of the bathroom and noticing the crying boy sitting on your bed. “What happened?” You walked up to him, kneeling down between his legs. “Hey, look at me.” You said, cupping his face and wiping the tears away with your thumbs. “My dad he’s—“ He paused, his voice cracking. “It’s okay, Rafe...” You whispered, leaning your forehead against his, sitting on his lap. “You’re safe here.” You reassured him, kissing his forehead. Rafe hugged you tight, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you want anything?” He looked up, sniffing with a sad smile. “You.” He murmured, the confession making you smile.

He held you the whole time, needing to feel you close to him as much as possible because you were the one making him feel safe and loved. His lips barely left yours, moaning and whispering the sweetest words against it. He looked at you in the eyes, pounding into you at a slower pace, smiling wide as you begged the Kook boy for more. He couldn’t stop admiring the beautiful girl underneath him: scratching his back with fierceness, crying in pleasure and screaming for him and only him. He really wanted this moment to last forever, and for the first time he didn’t leave afterwards, letting you fall asleep in his strong arms, holding you close to his heart: where you definitely belonged.

The Pogues knew you were seeing someone: you were constantly on your phone, ditching plans without explanation and quite often wearing bruises around your neck. However, Rafe wasn’t your boyfriend, yet. You both really liked each other, but didn’t know how to express it: your hookups sessions were turning into something more, which seemed a bit scary to you at times. Truth is, even though you both agreed on keeping this as a secret, you really wanted to talk about it to someone, craving advice and reassurance. And it seemed like the universe had heard your prayers, as Sarah caught the two of you having sex in your kitchen the other night.

“Rafe...“ You moaned, bent over the counter. “Fuck— I missed you so much.” He groaned at your words, pulling on your hair as he roughly pounded into you from behind. “Shit— Pretty girl.” You cried, gripping on the edges for dear life. “This is what you get,“ He smacked your ass. “For flirting with a guy in front of me.” “I— I wasn’t flirting with him!” You gasped, his arms pulling you back against his sweaty chest, his lips sucking on your neck as he pounded deeper into you through the new angle. “Shut up.” “Fuck, Rafe—“ He smiled against your skin, loving the power he had on you. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Look at you, getting fucked in the kitchen. You like that, huh?” You cried at his words, your hands holding on his arms for support. “Cum for me.” He murmured, hitting your g-spot, your legs shaking at the impact. You were about to, until someone arrived in the kitchen: Sarah, holding your backpack in hands. “Y/N, you forgot your—“ She paused, screaming in horror at the sight of the two of you: breathless, moaning mess. “Shit— Sarah!” You tried to call her, but she threw the backpack on the floor before running towards the front door. “Well, it was obviously going to happen at some point.” Rafe said, pulling out of you and putting his pants on. “I told you to lock the door.” You hissed, grabbing your dress off the ground. Rafe looked at you, noticing the panic submerging you as you struggled. “Hey, hey, hey,” He whispered, gently cupping your face. “Look at me, Y/N. It’s fine, don’t worry.” You pushed him away, dressing up in a rush. “This is not okay— I’ve been lying to my friends for weeks, they’re gonna be so—“ Rafe turned you around, pulling you against him. “You need to calm down, okay? I’m sure they’ll understand, and it’s actually none of their business.” You sighed, kissing his bare chest, your arms wrapping themselves around him. “I’ll stay with you, if you want.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “So… About what we were doing ten minutes ago.” He continued with a smirk, squeezing your ass. “Get out of my house, Cameron.” You said, playfully pushing the Kook boy away. “Your little sister just caught us having sex.”

Rafe dragged you inside his house, holding your hand. “Come on, Y/N.” He said, kissing your temple. “Stay in the perimeter, in case she tries to kill me.” You whispered, glancing at his blond sister walking in the kitchen. Rafe laughed, placing a soft kiss on your lips before letting go of your hand. You sighed, walking inside the quiet room, looking at your friend sitting down at the table with a bowl of fruits. “What do you want, Y/N? Condoms?” She joked, looking away. “Sarah—“ “I can’t believe it, you’ve been fucking my brother for weeks, without telling me.” You crossed your arms, nervously biting your lower lip. “I— I’m sorry. I was scared, because it’s obviously very problematic—“ Sarah chuckled, looking back at you. “No shit, Y/N!” She said, falling back into her chair. “First of all, my brother is an asshole, he doesn't deserve you. Second of all, he hurt our friends many times!” “I know, I feel guilty about us everyday, Sarah!” You shouted, walking up to her. “I don’t know how it happened, but i really like him and—” “Oh my god, tell me you’re not in love with my brother.” She said, visibly disgusted. “He’s not that bad, he’s actually sweet at times. Come on, Sarah. I was the first one to defend you and John B!” The Kook girl sighed, trying to understand how someone like you could love someone like Rafe. “I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re one of my best friends, Y/N.” She said, giving you a tiny smile. “I’m traumatized by the way.” She added, grimacing at the idea of his brother and you having sex. “Please, don’t be mad at me. I— I know this is weird, but i liked being around him and i feel like i might have a good influence on him.” “Of course you have a good influence on him, you’re adorable. But we can’t trust him.” You looked down, crossing your arms. “We are not dating, it’s just—” “You need to tell the others, especially JJ.” You looked back at her, eyes widening. “No way! JJ’s gonna kill him, we all know how dramatic he can be.” Sarah nodded. “Do you really want him to find out the same way I did?” You sighed, shaking your head. Maybe it was time to tell everyone.

Today, you weren’t feeling well, a bit stressed by the whole situation. However, you were excited to see Rafe again at the country club. But when you walked in the dining room, your smile disappeared almost instantly, your eyes leaning on the beautiful woman sitting next to him, the one who accompanied him at the Midsummers. She looked flawless and visibly older than you, probably closer to his age. “Take their order, Y/N.” Your manager said. You sighed, walking up to their table, shaking in your shoes. You saluted Ward, ignoring the Kook boy and his date, the sight of them making you feel sick to your stomach. You started overthinking, wondering if he had been fucking her too, the whole time he was seeing you. You could feel his eyes on you, the intensity distracting you and making you choke on your words as you took their order. “I— Alright, Sir.” You walked away, running out of the room once you were done, hiding in the bathroom where it all started. But this time, Rafe didn’t follow you, his absence breaking your heart.

A few days passed since the last time you saw him at the country club. And he has been acting dead ever since. “Y/N?” JJ asked, stroking your shoulder. “What’s going on? You’re usually excited to eat one of my burgers.” You smirked, turning to the blond boy. “I’m excited!” You faked enthusiasm, trying to ignore the pain you’ve been feeling all night. “Don’t lie to me.” He said, narrowing his eyes and sitting down next to you on the couch. “Is it about that guy you’re seeing? Do you want me to kick his ass?” You chuckled, looking at his clenched fists. “Tough day at work, that’s all.” You said, standing up. “Y/N…” He groaned, watching you walk to John B’s kitchen. “Come on, tell me the truth.” He begged, following you. “Did he hurt you?” Yes. “Can’t we just talk about something else, JJ?” “I hooked up with this—“ You turned around smacking his chest. “You’re so annoying.” You said, rolling your eyes at his amusement. “I don’t want to talk about him, it’s probably not even relevant anymore.” You opened the fridge, giving the blond the ingredients. “You guys broke up or?” You sighed, of course he wasn’t going to let it go. “We weren’t together, we were just… seeing each other.” JJ hummed in response, walking towards the counter. “I don’t know what you’re hiding but—” You weren’t listening anymore, looking into space, rethinking about your conversation with Sarah the other day. “JJ? I— I fucked Rafe Cameron.” You blurted out, the confession surprising him. He let everything fall on the counter before turning towards you, eyes filled with anger. “Please, JJ. Don’t be mad at me. I— I wanted to tell you but i didn’t know how.” He clenched his jaw, walking up to you. “Rafe Cameron? Out of all the guys?” He laughed nervously, ready to raise his voice. “Are you fuckinf kidding me, Y/N?” He shouted at your face, giving you goosebumps. “I’m so sorry…” You cried, looking away. JJ’s features softened at the sight of your tears, guilt washing his anger away. “Don’t— Shit.” He sighed, pulling you into a hug. “Don’t cry, Y/N. I’m sorry for yelling at you, it’s just—“ He paused, the sound of your sobs breaking his heart. He knew something was wrong, he couldn’t be the only one responsible for your breakdown. “What happened?” He asked, caressing your hair, still shocked by the news. “I’m so stupid.” You murmured, head pressed against his chest. “I love him.” JJ sighed, holding you tight. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He murmured back, already picturing himself fighting the Kook boy.

“Okay, i’ll be there in ten minutes.” You said, holding the phone close to your ear as you left your house. “No, JJ. I won’t give you my bra to try it on. I don’t care if it’s a bet—” You whined, rolling your eyes and closing the door behind you. “Whatever, see you guys soon.” You hung up, then walked towards your car, entering the driveway when you noticed someone leaned against the vehicle: Rafe. “Leave me alone.” You hissed, trying to shut down your emotions. He looked hot, as always, his devilish smirk still present on his perfectly sculpted face. “I’m serious, Rafe.” You said, pushing him to the right, the Kook boy grabbing your hips with both hands in the act. “Let me explain, Y/N.” You pushed him away, this time with way more strength. “Explain, what? How you fucked someone else behind my back? Because you’re ashamed to be seen with a Pogue?” He frowned, shaking his head. “What are you talking about—“ “I’m eighteen years old, still living with my parents, working at the country club and driving an old car. I’m not some model in her twenties, born into a rich family.” Rafe sighed, passing a hand over his face, tears emerging from the corner of your eyes. “Baby…” He said, trying to take your hand but failing. "Don't— You disappeared for a week.” You tried to open the car door, but he closed it immediately with his hand. “Rafe!” You whined, containing your tears. “Let me explain, Y/N.” He begged, turning you around and slamming you against the vehicle, leaning his face dangerously close to yours. You both looked at each other for a second, wanting to close the gap between the two of you. “I—“ You started, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what to do, kissing you or punching you in the fucking face, Cameron.” He smirked, caressing your cheek. “Nothing happened between us, trust me. Michelle comes from a rich family and my father tried to set us up.” You nodded, sighing. “So, are you married now?” “I told him about us, about my feelings for you.” Your lips parted. “But— But you left and—“ “Remember the last time i did that? The week before Midsummers?” You nodded. “I was dealing with some issues.” You frowned. “Are you talking about drugs? I thought you were—“ “Clean?” He laughed, the sadness in his tone hitting you. “I’m never high around you, because you make me feel better, because you’re my escape.” A tear rolled down your cheek, which he wiped away with his thumb. “But the shit my dad was putting through— it triggered me.” “Why didn’t you call me, Rafe? You can always count on me.” “I know, but after what happened at the club… I felt like shit for hurting you, i didn’t mean to. When you left the room— I really wanted to follow you.” You couldn’t hold back anymore, grabbing his face and pulling him into a soft kiss. “I— I think i’m in love with you, Rafe.” You murmured, your forehead resting against his. “I think i’m in love with you too, Y/N.” He replied, smiling, both hands now holding your shaking ones and giving them soft kisses.

That night, you decided to tell everyone at the Chateau: Rafe driving you to the location and accompanying you. You were nervous, holding his hand as you both walked to the backyard, where your friends were talking. “What the fuck?” Pope asked, being the first one to notice the Kook boy next to you. “Holy shit—“ Kiara mumbled, her eyes stuck on your hands. “What is he doing here?” John B asked, standing up. “What the—“ Sarah covered his mouth with her hand, winking at you. “What’s going on, Y/N?” Kie asked, looking at everyone with confusion. JJ remained silent, examining your boyfriend with a clenched jaw. “We— We are dating.” You said, leaning your head against Rafe’s chest, craving some protection. “Is this a joke?” Pope asked, while your other friends seemed disappointed. “I know he’s been a real asshole—“ “What the fuck!” Kie shouted, standing up. “You were hooking up with him the whole time?” “I’m genuinely sorry for lying to you guys! But—“ You paused, trembling in your boyfriend’s arms, as he held you close to him. “I didn’t premeditated to fall in love with him.” You continued, glancing at Rafe. “I still don’t understand how you managed to make her fall in love with you.” JJ said, looking at his boots. “Wait,” John B said, glancing back and forth between us. “You already knew about this?” “She told me yesterday.” Sarah sighed. “And i caught them having sex in her kitchen.” Kie fake-gagged, looking away. “You had sex in a kitchen?” Pope asked, eyes widening. “Oh my god, shut up.” Kie said, slapping the back of his head. Rafe cleared his throat. “I really like— Love, Y/N.” He said, looking at your friends. “I fucked up in the past, but i won’t bother any of you ever again.” He promised, your arms wrapping themselves around his waist, the small gesture making his heart melt. “Gross…” JJ murmured, looking away. “I know it’s gonna take you guys some time to fully accept and understand but—“ “You defended me, when Sarah and I started dating. I won’t judge you, but i can’t trust him.” John B said, looking at Rafe. “If you hurt her—“ “I won’t.” Your friends looked at each other, still a bit lost and overwhelmed by all of this.

After a few months, your friends were starting to accept your relationship with the Kook boy a bit more: inviting him and his friends to parties, hanging out with the two of you, all of this without causing any drama. It wasn’t easy at first, especially for JJ who’s always been protective, but he knew you were truly happy with Rafe and it was the most important to him. Your parents loved him, especially your mother, who finds him extremely charming, obviously. “I think your mother likes me.” Rafe whispered, glancing at the older woman from across the table. “She definitely has a crush on you.” “The mom and the daughter? Sounds like—“ “If you say porn, you’re gonna have to watch some for a while.” You warned, crossing your arms. Rafe chuckled, caressing your bare thigh under the table. “That’s sweet,” He said, leaning his lips closer to your ear. “We both know you can’t resist me.” “I have other options waiting for me.” You teased back, smirking at him. “Really?” He asked, his thumb caressing your inner-thigh, getting dangerously close to your center. “Well, we’ll talk about it later then.” He said, his eyes getting darker and your whole body shivering at his words. You already knew the outcome of this conversation, your legs already shaking at the idea. “Appreciate them while you can, baby.” He said, moving his hand to your knee. “You’re not gonna be able to use them for a while.”

uhuhuhuh, the end.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 19

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 19: Got Your Back (And Maybe Your Heart)

“Okay let me get this straight-”

“No one here is, but go on.”

“Hush, I’m still mad at you,” Tang gave a stink eye to the Kappa before turning back to Macaque. “So let me get this straight, so not only are you the same Six Eared Macaque that has fought the Monkey King and the deity that’s known as the Wandering Healer-”

“Not actually a deity,” he inputted.

“Whatever, but I’ve been coming here for years and just now I find out that there are mythical deities and magical plants within the forest! The Yao grass that is said to be a component to the Immortality Pills, an actual Qilin living here?! And the brown bunny and that little shit stain, who probably wants to laugh his ass off, is actually a Kitsune and spirit!”

“Guilty as charged,” the Shui Gui chortled.

“Pretty much,” the monkey shrugged his shoulders.

“Yup,” Ní nodded in her fox form.

“…I am both very angry and very excited,” he grumbled. “Do you know how many questions I have?! Do you know how many things I could have tested? Do you know how long I have wanted to meet someone like you guys? Do you know how many questions I have?!”

“I think you already said that,” said the water spirit though he froze as he saw an ominous glint in his eyes.

“Oh yes I did, because by the time I leave here,” he mysteriously whipped out his phone, “I will have all my questions answered.”

“Just how many do you have?” Macaque cautiously asked.

Tang said nothing as he instead showed a folder containing many files within them. “Quite a few. Quite. A. Few.”

All three immortals, the ones who have faced many fierce opponents throughout their life, gulped at the looming trials ahead.

“Fuck,” they all unanimously said.

It was cold, damp, and thoroughly disgusting with all of the worthless piles of junk lying around, but she supposed she would have to work with what she had under these…conditions.

Lady Bone Demon quietly walked through the open sewer as she attempted to distinguish where exactly she should strike next while her underling, who has been waiting for all these years, searches for the one item she hasn’t quite found.

It was quite tricky, to say the least, all the rest of the ingredients she needed to procure, albeit a bit rare, would be much easier to obtain even if those incompetent bugs mess it up. It won’t be too hard to find a replacement for those, she just decided on them for the proximity, she does not desire to leave the city before she achieves her prize. The last item though is something that is an ingredient that is not so easily replaceable, so she will need to take her time and look through every crack and back alley down until she does.

It was quite irritating, from the conditions she found herself into the annoying bugs that seem to think they are above her to Sun Wukong.

Sometimes she just wished that she could be over and done with this little game entirely and reach the end, but alas that’s not how life works. But she will admit that it will be fun watching them all struggle to get one step ahead of her, though she can’t decide which one she’ll enjoy more, Sun Wukong look when she finally drains him of every last bit of power and torture what he cherishes in front of his very eyes or Spider Queen expression as she stabs her in the back when she becomes the component to her plans. Both sound absolutely delightful when the time comes, but for that to happen she suppose she will have to achieve this the long way, no shortcuts or cheats allowed.

But she doesn’t mind the wait, after all, she had been imprisoned for over five hundred centuries.

She has nothing but time and she intends to play this little game all the way to the end.

“So your not just some random ass immortal,” Macaque bluntly said when Shen met up with him again.

“Took you that long to figure that out,” the frizzy hair old man laughed.

“Well, how am I supposed to know that you were literally giving me Immortal wine when I have never tasted it before you all but shoved it to me?” He grumbled as he held the bottle of very rare wine once more. “You know I don’t really need this, I am still perfectly immortal without it.”

“Oh I know, Yama sometimes grumbled about it from time to time when we get together. Gods know he wants to strangle Sun Wukong's scrawny neck when he gets the chance,” he said while drinking some of the wine.

“You regularly drink with the King of the Dead?” He deadpanned, “Who the fuck are you? Cause that right there shows that you're not just a regular ass deity.”

“Hmm I’ll tell you if you tell me how you figured out how to make the Immortality pills,” he smirked at the monkey still look.

“What do you mean?”

“I may be old, but I can smell a lot of the ingredients for the pills in this forest alone. Yao grass, Biya berries, Voya roots, Gracidea flowers, just to name a few,” he tapped his nose.

“Can’t really hide the smell,” he clicked his teeth. “Alright fine I’ll talk, but you better keep your end of the deal.”

“Will do.”

And so they talked and talked and when Shen spoke of who he was Macaque all but threw the bottle in his hand.

“What the fuck Ping?!” He hissed out as he had to stop himself from bashing his head against the tree. “How the fuck?!”

“He was an interesting one,” he laughed. He met his old friend by the river where he was doing his laundry, they spoke and then he found himself another drinking buddy.

Macaque’s eyes twitched as he just slumped over and groaned loudly. “What the fuck!”

Shen just laughed wildly next to him.

“Yeah yeah laugh it up,” he hissed before letting out a sigh and sat himself up. “Shit I don’t know if I can ask you this but I might as well fucking try?”

“Hmm?” He curiously questioned.

“I may need something soon that I can’t quite get on normal means and I think-no I know I will need your help to get it,” he asked with an almost pleading voice.

“Hmm, why do you need it?” He noted the tone in his voice but didn’t say a word about it.

“There is a demon that wants to take over the land and almost nobody would be able to stop her,” the simian admitted.

“Eh, there will always be some creature that wants to take over the world, been there, seen that, but that never really happens now does it,” he easily dismissed it as he leaned in closer, “but why do you need it?”

“Because there are people that I want to protect and I know that they will be the ones that will be fighting against that monster and like hell I am letting them do this alone,” he growled.

“Oh now I have your reason, so here’s another question. How much are you willing to give for my favor?”

“Anything,” he determinedly said.

“Anything you say? Even your life?” His green eyes challenged his violet ones.

“Yes,” he replied with no hesitation as the question didn’t even make him flinch.

There was a long silence as both beings stared the other down until the red haired man broke off his gaze and chuckled lightly.

“…hehehe, always knew Ping was fond of the stubborn ones,” he grinned.

“Ping is an old coot with the perchance of running into the weirdest fucking things,” he huffed as the air around them seem to settle down.

“You're not wrong,” he nodded. “Alright I’ll help ya, but next time I drop by I expect some high quality drinks.”

“Tch, fine you alcoholic bastard. Hope you don’t mind Plum wine, have a few sitting for a couple of centuries.”

“Are you kidding? The longer the age, the better it is! It’s like you don’t know me sapling,” he said with a mock hurt expression.

“I mean I might as well as you just told me who the fuck you are!” He threw his hands in the air.

“But you know my wine tastes!”

“You've only given me one kind of wine bastard!”

“Still!”

“Don’t you fucking pout you overgrown child!”

“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” MK cursed as he dashed his way through the volcanic land and ducked from a large fiery boulder aimed straight towards him. “Why does this happen to me!?”

Now you may be wondering how and why MK found himself stuck in the volcano arena, well he was visiting one of the more interesting customers he had delivered to before, as in she was trying to learn more about magic, with Red and Mei. Which is cool and all, especially since she has mastered how to change her hair color on will, but she was showing him her more advanced spells. Now it was very fun with the Bull Prince trying to explain to the young girl how each spell works and how much energy must be put into it. They were even going to try out a new spell together, but the thing about her is that while she does have quite a bit of talent, she is extremely clumsy. As she took a step forward and accidentally pushed him into the symbol on the ground and then ‘poof’ he teleported right in the middle of the fire imp territory.

Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem, he can handle a few enemies on his own and he did with such ease that not even a scratch was laid on him. It’s just that the problem was that they all happened to be a bit too loud and woke up a humanoid creature that was three times his size, entirely made up of molten magma and rock crystals, and looked very pissed.

Needless to say all of them booked it as fast as they could, but unfortunately it had their eyes on one creature that looked different from the rest.

“Seriously!” He yelled as he climbed up the mountain and quickly hid and he held his burnt side. He knows that he is quick on his feet, but even he can’t dodge all of those boulders and swipes aimed at him. It doubly hurts as he can feel the burning of the magma touch his skin, he desperately wants an ice bath when he escapes this.

SMASH

But until then he will continue to make his way to the ocean ahead where he hopes that it would be enough to stop the beast in its tracks. He will swim all the way back home if he has to, he can deal with the sickness later after he saves his skin.

He felt the beast let out a devastating roar and a glance back he saw the creature lift the largest boulder that he didn’t even think he could dodge. So, he instead prepared himself as he was about to bring out his staff when-

“Here comes Jade Dragon/ Blazing Bull!” Twin voices shouted as the next second two terrifying forces slammed into the creature and with a pained roar he flew back.

He blinked as he saw Mei and Red Son, one who is surrounded by ethereal viridian energy and the other encaptured in a fiery crimson aura, jump in front of him protectively.

“MK/Noodle boy! Are you okay?!” Both of them have been trudging through not only ashes clogging their lungs and spot marking their skins, but also all different types of books and ruins trying to find the right activation phrase to reopen the portal to where their friend had disappeared to. They were tired, dirty, clothes ripped, and pissed off, but in MK eyes they were the most beautiful people he has ever seen as he couldn’t stop the blush forming on his cheeks as he took in their perfectly disheveled appearance, the muscles peeking from their ripped sleeves, sweat dripping from their face, and the worried look in their gorgeous eyes.

“Y-Yep!” He involuntarily squeaked. ‘I really should not have read some of those romance books with Jin,’ he thought as he cleared his throat. “I mean yeah, yeah you guys are perfect-I mean you got here at perfect timing!” He nervously said as he rubbed the back of his neck and tried to avoid eye contact.

“You sure you didn’t hit your head along the way,” she lightly teased as she kept a firm stance in front of him.

“Would be an improvement,” he smirked, but his eyes didn’t leave the Cherufu dazed form.

“Heyyy,” he whined before he realized what they said before, “Do you guys have names and you didn’t tell me!”

“Umm.”

“We’ll you see-”

“They are so cool!” His eyes sparkled, “they fit you both so perfectly, and the way you guys came in and shouted it made the scene even more awesome!”

Both of them couldn’t stop both smiles and blushes as their smaller friend, and small crush, kept on praising them, but unfortunately, their little bubble popped as the beast roared once more.

“Tch,” Mei irritably clicked her tongue at the beast ride interruption, showing off her fangs (after countless of honing to both tracing and the dragon sword, she was more than ecstatic to see that she matched with both of her boys) “I actually forgot about that.”

“You mean the walking miniature mountain that was just chasing me down,” MK huffed as he shook his head. Hopefully, the two would just blame his fluster on the heat and not drift towards the thought that he may like them more than friends.

“Yeah that.”

“You both need to really get up to speed with your Mythical beings,” Red grunted as he opted to not use his fire against the creature made of lava.

“Says the one who never knew what Advil was,” MK muttered.

“It’s not my fault you mortals inconsistently change their names for no reason!” He hissed as his hair flared up.

“Surrrreee,” both mortals said.

“Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“You just don’t want to admit that your wrong~”

“Shut it!

“And where do you think you're going?” Wukong flinched as he heard Macaque's voice behind him.

“Oh you know, just a little road trip,” he smiled wider than normal as he quickly turned around to hide his suitcase, “I thought that it was time I get off of my mountain and see what else I missed.”

“Uh Huh,” he noncommittally said as he casually walked forward, “and you just decided that right this week?”

“Yep!”

“Just out of the blue.”

“You know it!”

“With no thoughts in mind.”

“None whatsoever!”

“Sunny, I know you’re bullshitting me,” he bluntly said.

“Whattt?” He nervously laughed, “I’m serious, I am just going to go sightseeing for a bit and-”

“You still have that same tell when you lie, you know. Smiling too widely,” he pointed out.

“I thought I got that under control,” he muttered to himself and sighed, “alright yeah, you caught me. I was gonna go out and look for a weapon to stop her, but I have to do this, Lady Bone Demon is not someone to trifle with. You know how she can easily command someone under her will and that was when she just got out of centuries of captivity! Imagine what she could accomplish once she regains more and more power! I just can’t sit here and wait for that to happen.”

“I know, that’s why you're not doing it alone,” he pointed out.

“Huh?”

“Did you really think that talk we had the other day was just a one off thing? No no no, there are so many people and demons solely invested in this, because what Spider Queen did really pissed off a lot of people and they want revenge on not only her, but those who helped her,” he said as summoned a map and showed him. “Just see for yourself.”

The monkey took the map and he became confused about what he was looking at. “There’s just a bunch of doodles in certain areas.”

“Those are the areas that have been hit and investigated thoroughly, the ones with X are the no goes of anything suspicious or useful, the ones with question marks are the clues or hints, and the few with checks are the ones where they found positive report and/or confirmation on successful supplies that we need. All of these are for finding the necessary materials to end the Bone Demon life once and for all.”

Wukong's eyes were wide at the end of his statement, “You know how to destroy her?! How long were you planning this? How have you managed to search all of these areas?”

“Well, it helps that I have so many favors stacked up from my former clients. I usually don’t care what they pay me, but usually, it’s in either money, food, or favors and I have a lot of those. I mean just Po and his students alone have them all checking the western areas for it by themselves. He says it’s a good training exercise for them, but I think he just wants a break from those brats. And for your first one, we’ll ever since BK got possessed the family has promised vengeance upon her, and Queen Iron Fan happens to have knowledge of a permanent kill switch to ending that demon life,” he said as he showed him the formula.

Wukong examined it and after a while, he nodded his head and faintly said, “Yeah…yeah that might actually work…there is something to destroy her.” He still couldn’t believe his eyes, but it was right there in front of him, then the first part of his words hit him, “Wait, that long?”

“Yes that long,” he said with exasperation, “Am I the only one who found it fucking weird that the Demon Bull King, one of the strongest beings in the realm, got possessed out of fucking nowhere? That right there was already suspicious by itself and the ominous whispers were sure not helping her case, that just added it on. So we decided to get to the bottom of this and boy is this one deep chasm we got ourselves into.”

“It really is,” he agreed as he looked over the map and saw that some of the places that were marked were the ones he was going to go to, even some that only celestial beings can access, “You already investigated these realms?”

He looked over to see what he was pointing at and nodded, “Yeah, pretty much. As I said, I have clientele all over and I don’t really restrict unless they have really done something so fucked up that I would rather kill them.”

“You have favors with Celestial deities,” he emphasized.

“Just some minor ones,” the doctor tried to brush it off, but judging by his friend's look, it wasn’t going to be easy.

“Celestial. Deities.”

“How about we talk about this later.”

“Oh we are so talking about this later, but I still have to do this. I have to make sure that she doesn’t cause any more harm to people anymore, this is my duty that I have to do-”

“You're not understanding!” He gripped his hair in frustration. “I literally gave you a map and you still don’t understand what I’m trying to say!”

“What!” He threw his hands in the air, “What can you possibly-”

“You aren’t alone dumbass!” He hissed out and froze the Monkey Sage.

“Wha-” he was cut off once more by a furious finger poking his chest at each word Mac hissed out.

“You. Are. Not. Alone. I don’t know how many different ways I have to say this, but if it gets through your thick skull then god damn it, I will.”

“I-”

“I know what you were about to do, you were about to galavant off and try to do everything on your own and not say a single word to nobody like a stupid martyr, cause apparently this is a shared trait between you and MK about being so self sacrificial that you wish to take on the burden yourself! Well fuck that! I’m putting my foot down for both of you, you don’t have to recklessly go out there and hope that one of them will stick!”

“What else am I supposed to do!” He leaped to his feet, “I basically serve no purpose other than this glorified title of hero, which I am really sick of hearing, and that Bone witch could strike at any moment and we won’t be prepared. If I leave the city then that would mean that not only would I be faster on looking for the weapon, but I would be far away from her and her attempt to sap my power.”

“But you would also be away from the city and by the time you come back, there might not be anything left to come back to,” he said with a final tone. “No one would be able to stand against her, not the demons, not the people, not MK, not the Bull Family, not even me. We would all fall by the time the morning sun rises if we tried to face her head on. We would all be corpses below her feet.”

The Monkey King stilled as the morbid images flooded into his head.

City in ruins.

Bodies sprawled everywhere.

Familiar faces all dead eyed.

Bodies collapsed.

Heart stilled

His precious student.

All of his tribe members.

The rambunctious Demon quartet.

His family to the West.

The headstrong Dragon successor.

Demon Bull with his wife and son.

Yanyu surrounded by her siblings.

Macaque

Macaque

Macaque

They're all dead.

Dead

Dead

Dead

Deaddeaddeadeadeadeadeadead

“Wukong!” He snapped out of his thoughts by black furred hands and looked up to see Macaque worried Violet (alive there so alive and bright, so so bright and alive) eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m-” he stopped himself and remend what he was about to say, “I will be fine…I’ll stay.”

The Six Eared monkey let out a sigh of relief, “Good, that’s good. Sorry for putting that image in your head.”

“No, no I needed to hear that. I-I can’t be impulsive, not right now, not when things are becoming dangerous, I need to think things through,” he sighed as he sat down.

“You're not going to be out of the loop, you are the one who knows where a weapon may be hidden, so you can easily tell them which spot to tackle more thoroughly,” he reassured him as he sat by him.

“That would be more efficient than me just searching one at a time, okay I’ll do that,” he let out a small puff of air and managed a small smirk, “I guess that’s why I have you in my life, you somehow manage my little quirks.”

“‘Little quirks’ is an understatement,” he deadpans and leans on him, “but yeah we do fit well for some odd reason.”

“Like peaches and congee,” he grins.

“I think you are the only ones who actually dip it into the food.”

“Oh like I haven’t seen you do the same with mango,” he pointed out.

“There’s a difference okay! It just tastes better that way,” he huffed.

“Surrrre it does,” he drawled out.

“It does.”

“Whatever you say.”

[ahkaahshi]

how they handle the wedding planning process [scenarios]

pairings: hirugami sachirou; oikawa tooru; miya osamu x fem reader

genre: fluff, humor

warning(s): two swear words. that’s it, surprisingly enough.

Hirugami is well known for being cool as a cucumber under the most intense of conditions. It’s a skill he's refined over the years, and, boy, does it come in handy during the wedding planning process. If you’re stressed, he’s there to calm you down. If you’re doubting decisions you’ve made about your dress, venue, food, or literally anything else, he’s there to reassure you that right or wrong doesn’t matter, as long as the two of you are happy together and in agreement.

Not only is he a seasoned professional in the arts of remaining calm, but he’s also a skilled crafter. Yes, that’s right. This man will go HAM in the arts and crafts department. Think you need to hire someone to make cute invitations and a table decorations? Think again. Hirugami’s on it, and at only the cost of a few kisses an hour. If he’s workin’ overtime, he might request a lil shoulder rub every now and then, but talk about a good rate! Plus, he does a great job and you know what he makes is special because he put his heart into it.

“How’s it going, Sachirou?” you ask with a gentle sigh as you walk into the living room from the kitchen with a bag of chips in hand.

From where he’s sitting on the floor, focused on his work, he lifts his head and directs a gentle smile your way. “Good. I’m almost done with the invitations now,” he responds and returns to his duties once more.

With half a chip in your mouth, you pause for a moment to marvel at the sight before you. At the center of a sea of craft supplies sits your tall fiancé, looking calm and controlled as ever while his nimble fingers place appliqué decorations onto one of the many strips of paper in front of him. He’s wearing golden glitter on his cheeks like war paint and has his crafting weapons--paint, brushes, markers, and ribbon--neatly arranged within arm’s reach. The way he grabs what he needs without glancing away from his work for a second reveals just how much time he’s spent on this project.

Feeling your heart warm at his efforts, you continue walking through the room so you can carefully sit down beside him and spend some time with him. You don’t even have to utter a word for him to know you’re stressed.

“Just get off the phone with your mom?” he wonders. Your arrival warrants a break, so he backs away from his project for a moment and sticks his hand in the bag of chips you’re cradling.

You nod in response to his inquiry and mention, “She’s been driving me up the wall about all the little details. I know she means well, and all, but she’s just stressing me out.”

A hum echoes from behind his lips as his eyes move to yours. You think he’s going to say something reassuring or inspirational once he's finished munching, but, instead, he dips his fingertips into a container of glitter and spreads it across your cheeks in two, long swipes.

Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you murmur, “What the heck are you doing, Sachirou? I need you to stay sane.”

“(L/n), (f/n)--soon to be Hirugami (f/n)--you are now a wedding warrior,” he announces, an amused grin forming across his lips. A moment of silence passes as you mentally question his state of mind. Maybe he hadn’t been the same since he’d left for the craft store earlier. “Which means,” he continues, pausing to press a kiss against your lips, “you’re strong and you can do this, okay? We’re in this together, so I’m right here with you, baby.”

His words and actions bring that reassurance that you’d been seeking in a goofier way than you’d anticipated, but one that you appreciated nonetheless. You utter a gentle promise of love to him that he returns and seals with another kiss placed on your forehead.

“Should I let you get back to work, then, wedding warrior?” you ask.

He nods and replies, “I’ll collect all my hourly kisses when I’m done.”

Oikawa is a methodical guy who always wants to be in control. Because of this, he’ll be just as hands-on in the wedding planning process as you are. In fact, there will be multiple times when you’ll have to tell him to step down, or you’ll argue because of your competing visions. However, his love for you will trump any desire of his to “win”--in terms of disagreements over certain aspects of your wedding--and he’ll always want to pick the option that will make you happy. Though, keep in mind, it may take him a bit of time to understand your point of view and come to terms with it.

While having a helicopter mom of a wedding planner for a fiancé might not be every woman’s dream, he is very helpful and you can always be assured that you’ll never have to shoulder the entire burden of the process yourself. It’s tiring! You don’t want to do it all by yourself, and that’s why you can be thankful that you have someone to share the workload with. If he’s busy at practice/training over the weekend, he knows that you’re working hard at home. Likewise, while you’re at work, you know you can trust him to get things done in your absence. He won’t let anything slip through the cracks, so you’ll never have to worry about the job getting done or any details being forgotten. You’ll just have to make sure you’re planning a wedding for the both of you, not for just one of you.

“No, I don’t like those floral arrangements for the tables.”

Oikawa’s lips settle into a frown upon hearing you express your discontentment with his idea. “Well, I don’t like the arrangement you like, either, (f/n)-chan, so what do you wanna do, then?” he grumbles.

As your gaze wanders around the shop filled to the brim with different varieties of flora and fauna, you take a deep breath of the air tinged with the potent scent of roses. You don’t like the way your fiancé’s looking at you right now or how he has his arms crossed in front of his toned chest as his foot taps against the floor with impatience.

“Tooru,” you groan quietly and shoot a withering glance towards his shoe, “Come on. These aren’t the only options we have.”

He retorts, “But we really don’t have the time to spend looking for another florist. And I think these arrangements are perfect. They match our color scheme and they look classy.”

You shake your head and take your bottom lip between your teeth. “I’m sorry; they’re just not what I envisioned. Besides, we don’t have to find another florist. Why don’t we just go around the shop with him and pick out some flowers we both like?”

There’s a long silence as he wrestles with the idea of compromise and his pride. Getting him to sacrifice the latter is harder than pulling a chew toy out of a pit bull’s mouth. But, for you, he’s willing to entertain the idea that he doesn’t always have to be right, since what he always wants is for you to be happy.

After a few moments pass, the expression on his face softens and his hand finds yours. He takes a long look at the engagement ring glittering on your finger before he presses a gentle kiss against the back of your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Okay,” he concedes, “let’s do that.”

A small smile graces your lips as you peck his cheek and give him a soft pat on the shoulder. “I know you just want everything to be perfect, baby, but let’s work together, okay?”

He murmurs in agreement and plants another kiss on your lips. “As long as I can have my milk bread on the menu, there’s no need to worry.”

“I’m glad your milk bread is worth the cost of including those embarrassing baby photos of you in the slideshow.”

“Don’t remind me, princess. Now, let’s go look at flowers.”

Osamu is more laid back by nature, and, while he’s willing to help, he probably won’t sweat the fact that you two have a huge event coming up. He won’t be getting into a tizzy about the ins and outs of wedding planning, so he often comes off as being apathetic about the whole thing. This can be extremely frustrating for someone who loves to plan and fusses over every, grueling detail of the event. However, it’s important to understand that his hands-off approach comes from his trust in you rather than from laziness.

Because he knows you have everything under control, he’ll be a part of the process by taking on a supportive role. Truth be told, he really does care about the fact that you’re getting married. He wants nothing more than to be with you for the rest of his life. So, if you want an opinion, you can go to him and he’ll help you. If you want him to make a decision, ask him and he will. If you need him to do anything, let him know and it’s done. Otherwise, he’ll just make sure you’re well taken-care of while you handle things.

Oh, and don’t even bother looking into catering options. That’s strictly his department and he’s an expert. Let him work his magic.

Your (e/c) eyes burn with strain as they flicker between the bright screen of your laptop and the notebook resting on your leg. For the umpteenth time that evening, you try turning down the brightness only to find that it was already at the lowest possible setting. This causes a small groan to echo in your throat as you scan the webpage tirelessly for any information you can find about each potential wedding venue you’d been considering.

The only thing that gives you pause is the sound of footsteps padding across the wooden floor behind you. Looking over your shoulder brings your attention to your fiancé, who’s dressed in his sweater and boxers, sporting a disheveled head of dark hair.

“(F/n)?” he utters, steel-colored eyes shifting over to your form, “What’re ya doin’ up? It’s fuckin’ two in the mornin’.”

Shaking your head and brushing strands of your own, messy hair away from your face, you explain, “I was too stressed to sleep. I can’t sleep until I find a good set of venues to look into tomorrow.”

Though he wears a clear look of disbelief on his features, he doesn’t try to stop you, since he knows that won’t get him anywhere. “Fine. But don’t be complainin’ when you’ve got a headache tomorrow, love.”

His words are dry and sharp, but you know the intentions behind them are warm and soft, so you don’t argue or huff in response. Instead, you turn back to your laptop and continue your research.

When you tear your gaze away from your work once more, it’s because Osamu’s at your side, offering you a mug filled with warm tea. “Come back to bed once you’ve finished this, alright?” he bargains as you hook your fingers around the handle and bring the drink to your mouth. You nod wordlessly, and he glances over at the notebook perched on your thigh. “Need any help?”

“I’ll need some tomorrow, but I'm okay for now. Thanks, ‘Samu.”

He places his hand on your shoulder and swoops down to press a kiss against the crown of your head. “I wantcha back in bed by three. If ya stay up later than that, ya start gettin’ all grumpy, ‘nd you know it.”

You chuckle and reassure him, “I know, baby. I promise I’ll be in bed before then.”

“Hey,” he speaks in a tone that’s more tender than that he’s been using, making you look up at him expectantly. “Whatever place ya pick, it’s gonna be great, alright?” You try not to giggle at the way his words are ever so slightly slurred by his fatigue as he continues, “As long as yer happy ‘nd the bank ain’t broken, we’re good.”

“I love you,” you coo against his lips in the moments before they meet with yours.

“I love ya too, babe,” he responds when the two of you pull away, “I’ll be awake, waitin’ for ya ta come back, so don’t be late.”

You scoff, “Oh, c’mon, ‘Samu, you were never awake to begin with.”

He clicks his tongue and places his finger on his chin in an act of contemplation before waving you off and trudging back to your bedroom. “Shit, ya got that right. But if yer up past three, I’ll know it. Trust me.”

[inglourious-imagines]

Beautiful Lies (Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader)

Summary: The reader tried to persuade the Weasley twins to bring her along to another prank of theirs but they’re not sure if can lie good enough to cover for them. How should she prove them she’s made for it?

HP Taglist: @alienoresimagines @95swifi @lunalovecroft @sarcasticallywitty15

.

.

.

“What in the world do I have to do so you’ll bring me along?!” Y/N cried out, desperation written all over her face. She’d been trying for over a week now to show the twins she’s good enough to let her join their little prank club. It was safe to say that the young witch had tried everything to show them just how similarly brilliant her mind is to theirs. She even managed to pull an outstanding prank on George that eventually ended up embarrassing Fred as well so it was even a bigger accomplishment than she expected it to be. Hermione started to doubt Y/N’s not a Weasley after all, calling her a “Weasley from another mother” that left her a flustered mess every time she glanced at Ron trying to bury the obvious feelings deep inside of her so no one could ever find out. Little did Y/N know that Hermione is very well aware of everything that was going on inside of her head – especially about the little crush she’d developed on Ron over the years.

“We already told you that we can’t just bring you with us, love.” Fred chuckled winking at the girl in front of him.

“But why? I literally proved you that I’m just what you need! A new way of thinking in the game!” Y/N tried her luck one more time, her heart sunk a little with every word Fred just said. It may had not been a good idea to go after them every minute of every day, imposing herself like an idiot.

The Weasley twins exchanged a knowing look, one very well known to Y/N revealing to her that they just agreed on something without the need to use any words. The plan was formed. The die was cast. The game was on.

“Spill it. What did you two come up with? Some sort of last challenge to show what a genius I am?” the Y/H/C-haired girl smirked, earning two even wider grins from the tall red-heads. She was definitely the perfect person to their team but why not have some fun first?

“Show us how can you lie. We want to hear you lie real hard to someone, doesn’t matter about what but it has to be convincing enough. We need to know you’re able to cover for us.” George stated as mischievous fire was dancing in his eyes.

“You know what, George? Why not set a concrete person as well to make it more challenging? I’m sure Y/N can manage since she’s such a genius.” the other twin nodded and she knew she won’t like a bit what they’re about to say.

“Fred, I’m thinking exactly the same thing.”

“Lie to Ron.” both of them almost sang, their voices filled with mischief as they watched Y/N’s face go from a pale white to a burning red. She expected a lot of things but not this one, not a one that would include their brother. It was at this exact moment, the twin’s eyes sparkled, when Y/N realized that they might have known about her crush all along.

“Ehm… about what exactly?” she cleared her voice so it wouldn’t sound so shaky and nervous but she had a suspicion that it just added to the twin’s conviction.

“We believe you’ll think of something, won’t you, darling?” Fred smirked high-fiving George in the air at their triumph.

•••

Y/N spent the rest of the day trying to come up with something so convincing that it’d surprise the Weasley twins so hard that they’ll have to beg her to join them. She eventually asked Hermione for some help but not even the smartest witch seemed to think of something that brilliant.

Y/N replayed the conversation with the twins from earlier that day over and over in her head trying to find at least some clue on why they looked like they just won the Triwizard tournament.

Lie to Ron.

His name circled in her mind like a dangerous thought. Y/N didn’t paid much attention to her surroundings, being really occupied with her current problem, so when a certain person walked down the stairs into the common room, she didn’t bother to look up and kept on contemplating about her mischief.

“We don’t have any assignments for tomorrow, do we?” his voiced echoed through the place and her head shot up immediately. Y/N was met with a pair of blue eyes burning into her. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly got dry and she wasn’t able to get out a single word.

“I think Y/N’s trying to say that we’re just studying, right?” Hermione tried to save the situation as she sent her an inconspicuous look that was worth a million words.

“Oh, y-yeah, right. Just studying. You should try it too.” she managed to say, finally looking away from Ron’s captivating eyes that didn’t make her stutter for some random reason.

“Studying, girls, right?” another pair of familiar voices joined the conversation and Y/N could not help but roll her eyes at their knowing smirks. This was way too harder than she thought and she was very well aware of the fact that the twins are definitely winning their little challenge.

“Maybe we could study some day together, Y/N?” Ron’s quiet voice brought her back from the speculating as he sat down on the sofa next to her, maybe way too closer, Y/N suddenly focusing on the proximity between them.

“We certainly can! That’d be awesome.” she responded too quickly and too enthusiastically than she probably should but at this moment she didn’t really care any more. The game was bloody on and she was gonna get what she wanted.

“Really?” Ron almost squealed with delight, his cheeks blushing immediately, “I mean, really?” his voice sounding deeper and more serious now. She let out an amused laugh, while her mind inappropriately wandered to his lips and how would it feel to touch them. With the corner of her eyes, Y/N caught a glimpse of the twins closely eavesdropping their whole conversation, looking smug as ever.

It was then when it hit her, what the red-heads truly meant.

“Of course, Ron.” Y/N moved a bit closer to his body, “but there’s a little catch.”

Ronald’s palms got suddenly all sweaty as he felt her warm breath on his skin. His body yarned for her gentle touch, every single part of his soul desired just to hold her hand and never let go.

“And what’s t-that?” he stuttered, trying so hard not to stare at her lips and failing miserably.

“Because when we’re gonna be alone to have peace, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of you.” she whispered into his ear, her hand slightly touching his thigh.

•••

“Alright, we were so wrong,” Fred admitted, a playful smirk set on his face, “you may join the big boys now, Y/N!”

A blush crept onto her cheeks at his statement, suddenly feeling like she’s gonna burst with excitement any next second. “I knew it!”

“We’re planning a little something for the next week so join us tomorrow in the library.” George added as he paced from one spot to another, his hair getting into his view.

“Library? I’m surprised you even know what that word means.” Y/N grinned, her eyes full of sparkles. She will fit in just fine, more than just fine actually. If the twins were out of hand before, the trio will cross the unachievable boundaries in no time and Hogwarts was definitely not ready for the Weasley twins combined with another prank mastermind Y/N Y/L/N.

“The lie you said to Ron? About the touching and stuff? You should have seen his face when those words left your mouth!” Fred laughed throwing his arm around her shoulder pulling her closer to him.

“Freddie’s right,” George couldn’t help but giggle as he hugged her from her other side, “you’re evil.”

The common room was filled with their hearty laughter, excitement was basically radiating off the trio, not really paying any attention to another Weasley standing dumbfounded on the stairs that lead to the boys dormitory, staring at them.

“So it wall just a stupid challenge? Like some game with my bloody heart?!” his voice echoed through the room, making the three students stop in their tracks immediately as they all turned to angry Ronald Weasley. His eyes were entirely focused on the only girl there, captivating her in his stare. Y/N wasn’t able to move for one inch, guilt filling her heart when she realized what she had truly done.

“I actually remembered Harry wanted to talk to us, see you two soon!” the twins waved at the two oblivious people, clearly head over heels in love with the other, and quickly stumbled out of the room. Neither did Y/N or Ron look at them leaving and it wasn’t until the doors closed behind the two tall red-heads that Ron made a few long quick steps towards her.

“So was it?” he wasn’t shouting any more, his voice firm, steady and hard.

“No, of course not.” she whispered as she looked at the tip of her shoes trying to avoid his painful stare. This wasn’t what she intended to do.

“Don’t lie to me!”

“I’m not lying to you! If you just let me explain!”

Both of them were breathing hard, their chests rising up and down like after a long run.

“So you could come up with another lie, huh?” he scoffed, shaking with his head in doubt, “some people might actually have feeling, you know!”

Anger was slowly bottling up in her as she realized one important thing. Y/N wasn’t lying before, it was all true. The boy in front of her was so close yet so far away and she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms that would make her feel like she’s home.

“Maybe I wasn’t actually bloody lying to you, Ronald! Don’t you dare talk about some feelings to me when I’ve been trying to show you just how much I admire and like you while you’ve spending all your time with Hermione!”

Y/N took a deep breath as she continued. She kept it all inside for too long, it was like with every other word she gained more confidence. “I don’t blame you, Hermione is an amazing girl but stop putting all of the blame on me when clearly it’s also your fault!”

As the confession rolled over her tongue, Ron finally calmed himself down, realizing what a stupid thing he’d done. He watched Y/N’s rosy lips move and he suddenly had to fight a strong urge not to embrace her in his arms kissing her like there’s no tomorrow.

“You like me?” he breathed out, not really believing what his long-time crush just said right into his face.

“Yes,” she smiled sweetly, “very very much.”

“Well, I might like you very very much too.”

“You might? You better get your things straight, Weasley.”

“Alright, I like you very very much, Y/L/N.”

“That’s more like it.”

[just-jordie-things]

hey ummm... could u maybe do 59 w Zuko 🥺?? i <3 ur writing by the way!!!

prompt 59: kissing so desperately their body caves into the other person’s ___

“He’s a fool!”

“He’s learning”

“Well he’s terrible at it!”

There was a pause as Iroh debated on what to say to you now, but as he tilted his head to the side, regarding you with an awkward look on his face, he nodded.

“...yes…” He agreed slowly.

You let out a growl of frustration, before furiously kicking at the ground, sending a chunk of dirt and grass flying into the air.  You looked like a child learning earthbending, if that child was an amateur, and if you had been born an earthbender.

“I can’t believe him!” You shouted, and began pacing in circles again.

Iroh sighs as you repeat the same actions and words that you had been for the past fifteen minutes now.  Normally you weren’t so hotheaded, but no one brought this frustration out of you like Prince Zuko.

“Spirits I could just-! I could-! I could kill him if he wasn’t already dying!”

Your voice cracked as you threw your hands around, and finally, Iroh sees that you’re beginning to break.  You’d been so angry, it was only a matter of time before what you were truly upset about shone through.

“Lady (y/n), why don’t we go inside? I’ll make you some tea” Iroh suggests, calm and collected as ever.

Sometimes, you didn’t know how he did it.

Zuko was a challenge, that had never been a secret.  In all the time that you’d known him- which was literally your entire life- he had always been hot or cold.

Some days he was kind and charismatic, and honestly fun.  You fell in love with him all over again on these days.  In one of the villages you’d travelled through, there had been a festival, and he’d danced with you in the streets like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Other days, he was stoic, and cruel.  He could have his guard up so high that he might not even look at you.  You almost hated him on these days.  When he would let his own greed and desire cloud his judgments, and his personality.  He once went an entire day without speaking or looking at you.

You had challenged him to an Agni Kai, although you weren’t a firebender, just to get a reaction out of him.

This had not been amusing to him, however.  He’d called you silly and immature for challenging someone of his status and power to a duel.

After that, you went three days without speaking to him.  It had tortured him more than fighting you could have, and once you finally gave in and let him apologize, he swore to never treat you that way again.

Things were different now, though.

You weren’t on a Fire Nation ship anymore, and your travels to capture the Avatar had been put on hold, or so you’d assumed.  Since coming to Ba Sing Se, Iroh had opened a tea shop that was doing spectacularly, and you and the man had happily rebuilt your new lives.

You couldn’t help but feel that the way you lived in the Earth Kingdom was how you were always meant to be.  You were more happy living in the lower rings of Ba Sing Se than you ever had been living as a young noble in the Fire Nation.

Zuko did not share the same sentiment.

Nonetheless, you persuaded him into joining you on walks about the city, or trips to the market for groceries.  He seemed to enjoy that a little more than working as a waiter in his Uncle’s shop.

And then, you’d convinced him to free the Avatar’s sky bison! You weren’t sure how you’d done it, you’d merely mentioned that Aang and the others might leave Ba Sing Se before they catch the three of you if they had the means to travel- that being Appa.

Last night, when he’d returned to the small apartment, his mask in hand and a torn look on his face, you weren’t sure if he’d gone through with it.  He looked so distraught that you thought he’d given up.

But he told you and his Uncle that he had freed the animal, and you could have kissed him, you were so happy for him.

You could see him changing before you, for the better, and it made your heart swell with love and admiration.  A hope filled you, that maybe Ba Sing Se would be where all of you could be your happiest.

That didn’t last.

This morning he’d woken up with the flu.  He was sweating, shaking, he’d even thrown up once or twice.  He was burning up inside and cold to the touch, and you’d worried to no end over his well being.

You weren’t afraid of some little sickness, Zuko was strong and could get past anything, but you quickly learned of how he’d come to be so ill, and any sense of concern flew out the window.

You left his side, tore your hands out of his, and stormed out of the apartment.

Now here you were, pacing around outside with Iroh trying to calm you down.

“I mean- who gets sick because of moral conflict?” You asked, stressfully running your hands through your hair.

You’d been wearing your hair down instead of in it’s usual Fire Nation style top knot, and you often found yourself repeating this anxious action.  Especially when it came to Zuko.

“He’s different, Lady (y/n), you know this,” Iroh reminds you, folding his hands together.  “But you know you can talk to him about this-”

“I know,” You grumble, and suddenly drop to the ground, sitting down and hanging your head in your hands.  “I just- I just can’t believe that his intentions are so corrupt that he can’t do one simple good thing without his body shutting down on him.  I hate him”

“No, you don’t,” Iroh says calmly.  “You care too much, I’d say”

You look up at him, your eyes glossing over with tears, and your lip beginning to quiver.

Iroh smiles at you sadly, and as he walks past you, he kindly pats your head.

“I’ll give you some time to yourself,” He says.  “You come in when you’re ready for that tea”

You nod back at him, and push your head into your hands while you try to stop your tears.

I should be angry, you tell yourself.  Not crying, like a baby.

I can’t believe him.  He’s so insufferable and he could be so cruel, and here I thought he’d changed for the better.  How can he change if he gets a little cold every time he does one good thing?

Your tears keep flowing, whether they’re ones of heartbreak or irritation, you can’t tell, but it doesn’t matter because they don’t stop.

“(y/n)?” A familiar raspy voice calls, and you wished you had the energy to whirl around and punch him right in his perfect face.

You settle for giving him the middle finger over your shoulder.

Oh, if you had done that a year ago, you’d risk a death sentence.

“Uncle says you’re upset-”

“What gave him that idea?” You asked bitterly, and turned to look at him with a scowl.

He didn’t falter at the mean look, but he did weaken at the sight of you in tears.  And despite your protests, he sat next to you.

Zuko still looked like a mess.  He was pale, and his skin was glistening with sweat, but he still had a blanket wrapped around himself to keep away the chills.  That didn’t stop him from shivering every few minutes.

“Zuko, I really don’t want to talk to you right now-”

“Fine, then don’t” He replied, ever so blunt.

You groaned, and realized you’d have to leave if you wanted privacy.  So you moved to stand and go inside, but he stopped you, grabbing your hand, and pulling you back down next to him with ease.

Even when he was weak he was strong, you thought, and you scoffed.

“But I still need to talk to you” He told you.

“I don’t want that either” You bit back.

“What did I do to you?” He asked, genuinely confused.  “Just last night we were fine, you- you were happy, you hugged me! I thought I did the right thing…?”

You stared at him blankly, before shaking your head at him.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” You mumbled, mostly to yourself.  “Zuko, you’re a wreck,”

He didn’t need you to tell him that, but it still hurt a little from how venomous your words were.

“I mean, seriously, I have never seen you look shittier.  And do you get why, Zuko?”

You didn’t give him time to try to answer.

“It’s because you’re so mentally conflicted on whether or not to be a good person, that it’s making you physically sick”

You shake your head and turn away from him so you can roughly wipe the tears off of your face.  You hate that you’re crying in front of him, but at the same time, you don’t care anymore.  You’re just so tired of all of this.

“And here I thought,” You mumbled, your voice weak and cracking from the tears in your throat.  “Like an idiot, that we could actually be happy here.  How can we be happy if you’re throwing up over it? Spirits, I can’t believe I’m still so naive”

“I’m sorry” Zuko mumbles, hanging his head.

Unknowingly, the conflict he’s facing only gets worse, because now he’s hurt you in the process, and it pains him to think he’s done something so awful that it’s brought you to tears.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” You cried, “I want you to want to be a good person, and you are, I know you are, I’ve seen it, you just- spirits you just make it so hard to love you sometimes,”

At that, Zuko perks back up, turning to look at you with wild swiftness, even though you’re sobbing and hanging your head in your hands.  You probably haven’t even realized what you’d said in your state of despair.

“And I don’t know what to do!” You cried out, looking up at him.  “I don’t know how to help you- if I can help you- and I just- mmph!”

Before you could continue on ranting at him, he’d leaned forward and kissed you, his clammy hands flying to your face to bring your lips to his roughly, like he couldn’t have possibly waited another second.

And as angry as you still were at him, you threw your arms around his neck, fervently kissing him back.

You were still crying, your salty tears slipping between our mouths, but neither of you cared.  In that moment, all you cared about was being as close to him as physically possible.

His wool blanket fell off his shoulders and suddenly you were pressed into his almost uncomfortably hot and sweaty chest, and yet, you couldn’t have cared less.

He was here, he was finally kissing you after years of anticipation for someone to make the first move.

You were all but in his lap when you finally parted, panting, your wide eyes meeting his with shock.

“I do want to be better,” He says, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face as he whispers to you.  “And I do want us to be happy here”

“You do?” You ask, hopefully, your own hands reaching out to cup around his face.

Zuko nods, smiling faintly at you.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n),” He apologizes, bringing his forehead down to yours.  “Please forgive me”

“I forgive you” You hum back.

“For the past three years,” He clarifies.  “For dragging you around the world and wasting what was supposed to be the prime of your life”

You chuckle, your thumb stroking around the edge of his scar, your eyes lovingly following the movement.

“I think that I followed you” You reminded him.

You were right of course, you had somewhat snuck onto the ship before his departure.

His lips quirked into a wider smile at the memory.

“Right, of course,” He murmurs.  “How could I forget?”

“You were a busy man, Prince Zuko,” You hum teasingly.  “Now come on, we should go inside and make you some tea before you get me sick, too”

You stand, taking his blanket before helping him up, and carefully wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like a cape.

“I love you too” He breathes out, and you pause for a moment, processing his words, before looking up at him with a brilliant smile.

You adjust the blanket, before standing on the tips of your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek.

Wordlessly, you take his hand and bring him with you inside.  Your frustrations effectively melted away, replaced with a feeling of content and ease.

For the first time in a long time, you truly felt everything was okay.  Even though nothing was alright in the world, you’d be just fine.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[stubbychaos]

Saviin’ika

Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: You grew up hearing terrifying tales of Mandalorians and the atrocities they were capable of inflicting upon innocent people, but when a grouchy heavy-infantry warrior offers to walk you home after you treat his wounds, you think that perhaps they aren’t the scariest monsters that reside on Nevarro.

Rated: M for mature themes, though there’s no smut in this part.

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, graphic injury involving intestines (not detailed at all, I literally just use the word ‘intestines’ to describe the injury), Paz gets stitches and hates needles just as much as I do, brief mention of an armed robbery.

Notes: This is so self-indulgent it’s not even funny lol. I just wanted more fluffy Paz fanfic since he only got like thirty seconds of screen time and I’m still thirsting over him. I plan on this being only a few chapters, but knowing me, I won’t know when to stop.

You’re not sure how you ended up in this position, currently taking care of a massive Mandalorian that had somehow been injured in some sort of intense scuffle, though you find it difficult to believe that anyone in the galaxy could get the upper hand on the intimidating warrior that absolutely towers over you by more than a foot.

You can’t even imagine anyone with the guts to try to take on someone so intimidating.

You’ve never seen a Mandalorian before, but you have heard old tales of vicious warriors made of metal that lived underground and took what they wanted without much regard for others, not caring if they had to hurt women or children to get what they wanted. Judging by the way he had stormed into the tiny infirmary, angrily demanding that you be the only one to tend to his wounds, you think the rumors must be true and you had accepted immediately, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the huge warrior’s wrath should you deny him. He hadn’t even asked where your office was, merely stalking past you after you had scrambled to get up from the front desk where you had been working on the reports you had been asked to work on and file.

Currently, you watch in awkward silence as he slowly detaches his massive weapon from his back, breathing a little harshly or grunting whenever he moves in a way that causes pain. You step forward and raise a hand to help him, but his helmet whips threateningly to where you’re standing and you immediately back up, fear turning into slight irritation because you’re a nurse and you should be helping someone who’s clearly uncomfortable. After a few painfully quiet moments, the Mandalorian finally props his massive weapon up against the stiff cot in the center of the room and moves onto removing his chest piece, though it seems to be a harder task for him.

“W-Would you like some help, sir?” Your question comes in the form of a meek murmur and he immediately freezes at the sound of your voice, his intimidating visor staring you dead on, “I-It just seems like you’re in quite a bit of pain. I don’t mind helping, really.”

His black gloves fall to his thighs and you watch with disdain as a few droplets of blood drip onto the white tile, though you take the defeated gesture as a sign that he’s willing to let you help him. You remain as professional as possible as you approach the huge warrior and bashfully reach up to undo one of the latches that rests above his collarbone before repeating the action with the other one, though you find it’s broken and slightly trickier to unlatch. Deciding it’s not a good idea to mention his shoddy armor, you remain silent as you stand on your tippy toes to remove the heavy piece of steel, a hand reaching around him to catch the back piece.

His helmet cocks to the side at the small huff you let out, not prepared for how heavy the piece of armor was.

After you help him remove the rest of his heavy cuirass and the extra padding covering his ribs, he surprisingly obliges your meek request for him to lay down on the stiff cot before you cautiously untuck his tunics from his utility belt that he refused to take off. Even with two dangerously deep knife wounds and several intense bruises, you think it makes him no less scary and you’re certain he can easily deal out some serious damage if he so desires, even in such a compromised position. The Mandalorian has over a foot on you and even before removing all of the padding and layers of clothing, you had been able to tell that he’s still a big guy, more muscular in certain spots than others and you force yourself to stop thinking about the softly defined abs that are currently exposed to you, both his gray and black tunics pulled up to his sternum. His skin is a beautiful, rich shade of brown, you notice as you briefly inspect the severity of his wounds and you can feel the intense heat that radiates from him, as if he’s a human furnace.

‘He is your patient,’ You remind yourself as you quickly stand up to gather a few things, including your thoughts, ‘A massive, terrifying patient that could easily crush you in the blink of an eye.’

You have your back to him, thoroughly washing your hands when you clear your throat and speak up quietly, “Can you tell me what you were stabbed with?”

“Does it make a difference? I’m injured, that’s all you need to know.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you gather all the supplies you need before sitting in your chair and pointing your bright lamp at the severe injuries; you gain a little courage as you pull your surgical mask over the lower half of your face and slip on your glasses so you can see better, grateful that you can now focus on the injuries rather than the stubborn Mandalorian. The gashes are both several inches long and though they don’t seem critically deep, you can tell that he’s lost quite a bit of blood and will suffer severe consequences if you don’t help him soon.

“It just helps to know what weapon was used to cause the injury. If it was rusted metal, it can be more prone to infection--if it was glass, there could still be shards in the wound. I’m not asking about the circumstances involving how you got these injuries, just the weapons involved.”

He grunts and you pretend not to notice the way his fingers curl against the cot when you begin to flush out the wound. Something tells you that he’s not used to being the one getting injured during a battle and you can’t imagine a warrior bigger than him catching him off guard; you force yourself not to ask about the circumstances revolving around his injuries. You had learned long ago not to pry into the lives of criminals and bounty hunters, understanding that it always put them on edge and made them wary of you.

“It was a dagger--few inches long and definitely not rusty.”

“Does your left shoulder hurt at all?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You huff a little, cheeks burning and you can’t tell if it’s from frustration or embarrassment, “The less critical wound is located in a spot where your spleen could have been affected if contact was made with the dagger, though it doesn’t seem to be deep enough to cause any trauma to the organ. A sharp pain in your left shoulder is oftentimes a sign of a ruptured spleen.”

You reach up to lightly dig your fingers into his firm shoulder, only pulling away when he shakes his helmet a few seconds later, “No, there’s no pain there.”

“Thank you. The wounds didn’t seem deep enough to cause any injury to any organs, but we don’t really have the proper technology to know for sure,” His visor tilts towards your face, though you don’t notice it as you remain concentrated on cleaning the nasty wounds before pulling out your suture kit, “The infirmary is low on supplies at the moment--a couple of raiders broke in a few weeks ago and took a lot of machines and medicine from us. I’m afraid I don’t have any bacta patches, but stitches should stop the bleeding just fine. You’re lucky the dagger wasn’t very long.”

“I got stabbed and you’re calling me lucky?” He doesn’t sound angry and something about his lighter tone makes you think it’s disbelief that his modulator hides.

You raise your brows and you’re grateful for the surgical mask hiding your amused smirk as you get to work on stitching up the deeper wound first, “Considering I had a Twi’lek come in earlier with his intestines practically falling out of his stomach, I would certainly say you’re one of the luckier patients I’ve ever gotten. Stab wounds and blaster shots I can handle, guts and brains are another story.”

“You’re a doctor, that stuff shouldn’t bother you.”

“I’m a nurse, actually. The infirmary only has one doctor and he barely works here since he’s always traveling,” You correct him, eyes trained on the way the curved hook of the needle pierces his skin, nylon thread bringing the torn flesh back together, “Sorry if you expected to be treated by an actual doctor when you stormed into the the infirmary asking for my help. There’s not really a huge need for medical professionals in the village--most people are dead before they even make it here.”

He makes a small noise from the back of his throat, “Makes sense. Surprised this place even has an infirmary in the first place.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly the flashiest hospital in the Outer Rim,” You say sarcastically, tilting your head to the side as you lean over his torso to get a better look at what you’re doing, “Why did you ask for me?”

“You were the only one that actually looked competent,” He huffs, stretching his arm behind his head when you gently nudge his bicep a little, “Everyone else was standing around doing nothing. You were the only one actually working.”

You’re not sure if it’s a compliment or some sort of backhanded one, but you take it for what it is and continue your work, being as swift and precise as you possibly can. The Mandalorian, however, makes it difficult when he keeps shuffling around and you would have thought for such a big warrior, he’d be used to pain by now. If you were in any other situation, you might have found amusement at the thought of a huge Mandalorian hating needles, though you suspect it goes deeper than that and judging by the scarce amount of scars scattered on his torso, he must not get hurt often. 

Men in this village tend to have quite a big ego and usually hate having their pride bruised; you think that maybe Mandalorians are no exception to that notion, especially when they are rumored to be the galaxy’s fiercest warriors.

You let out an exasperated sigh when he shifts for the umpteenth time and his helmet immediately jolts to stare at you through that unforgiving visor, “What? Something wrong?”

His tone is condescending and you wince a little.

Of course he’s just like the rest of your patients--rude and probably cruel.

“You just…” You cringe at how shaky your voice is and steel your nerves, “Could you stop moving so much, please? It’s slowing down the process and causing more unnecessary pain.”

You try to ignore the fact that there’s a vibroblade just inches from your face.

He grunts a little and turns his helmet to stare back up at the ceiling, growing deathly still underneath your skilled hands.

“Fine. Just hurry up.”

You bite your tongue and continue without so much as a nod. You’ve learned long ago that when it comes to patching up criminals or bounty hunters, they have no qualms about harming people smaller or weaker than them and this Mandalorian is quite possibly the strongest patient you’ve ever tended to and you’d rather not anger him. So, instead of rolling your eyes at the childish man, you continue to stitch the second wound that comes to a blunt end on the right side of his hip, just above his utility belt. After tenderly wiping the dried and fresh blood away from his torso, remaining mindful as you clean around the sutures, you begin to unroll a thick wad of gauze as well as some medical tape.

“The bruising on your ribs looks pretty intense,” You murmur after finishing with the stitches and lightly wrapping it with a bandage; you tilt your head a little at the way he jolts when you tenderly press a cool hand against his warm, bruised skin, “Did you hear a pop or crack when you were hit?”

“I don’t know,” He admits brusquely and you are all too aware of how bothersome bruised or broken ribs can be. Despite your better judgment, you think that perhaps that’s why he’s so cranky, “Couldn’t hear shit over the gunfire.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when you think of the massive weapon propped up against the cot, just inches away from your thigh, and you shake your head a little, “I think I might have a jar of bacta salve that could help with the soreness. If you apply it twice a day, it should speed up the healing process a considerable amount.”

“I don’t have enough credits for anything with bacta in it, so don’t even bother,” He grunts as he stubbornly sits up and lowers his helmet to inspect your work before turning to you, watching as you stand up. 

You ignore his words as you approach the cabinet where you keep several clear jars filled with all sorts of vibrant, colorful liquids and gels and you think you feel his eyes on you as you stand on your tippy toes to reach the small jar on the top shelf. You were grateful that your little supply of homemade remedies and salves had remained untouched, for the most part, after the infirmary had been raided. You try to forget about the scary situation, though you still found yourself having nightmares of a Trandoshan pressing a blaster between your eyes, all while threatening to blow your brains out if you move an inch.

“Please, take it,” You insist, unscrewing the lid as you approach him and gathering the cold salve onto your fingers, “Something tells me you get injured a lot.”

His leather-clad fingers wrap gently around your wrist and stop you from rubbing the healing ointment into his skin; if you weren’t so terrified, you would have marveled at how massive his hand was compared to your much tinier one, “I don’t want your pity.”

Much to your dismay, your voice shakes a little when you speak in a whisper, and you feel the way he loosens his grip on you, though it hadn’t been painful or caused discomfort in the slightest; you’re somewhat surprised that he’s capable of gently handling someone so much smaller than him.

“It is not pity, Mandalorian.”

“Then what is it?”

“Kindness,” You murmur, feeling ridiculous when he scoffs at your answer and you just know that your cheeks are an angry shade of pink, “I do not wish to be as cruel as everyone else on this planet. I would like to think I would be shown the same kindness if I was as injured as you are, though I doubt one would help me. Besides, I don’t like seeing people in pain and I know broken ribs can be bothersome and painful.”

He silently stares at you for a few tense moments, his helmet giving you no indication as to what he’s feeling.

“Fine,” He lets go of your wrist and you let out a sigh of relief, hand shaking terribly as you begin to rub the salve against the worst of the bruising; you ignore the way he tenses under your hand and how he cocks his helmet to the side as he observes you closely, “That kind of attitude will get you hurt in a place like this.”

“I know,” Your cheeks flush and your eyes burn as you refuse to meet his gaze, your voice growing thicker and quieter when you speak again, “I know, but sometimes it doesn’t.”

He’s still staring at you as you finish up and he grunts a little when you offer him the deep, dull blue cuirass you had helped him remove earlier, carefully helping him put it back into place. After sheathing his huge canon against his back, he accepts the little jar of salve from you and tucks it into a little brown pouch attached to his utility belt with a disgruntled ‘thanks’. You’re not sure why you do it, but you instinctively trail behind him as he leaves the room and makes his way into the lobby; it’s not like he needs your assistance, but he doesn’t say anything to make you think he’s annoyed with you or doesn’t want you there.

It’s not until a deep voice calls out your name that you freeze in your footsteps and turn around with dread, the Mandalorian tilting his helmet to stare at you and an older man over his broad shoulder. Your own shoulders tense and are nearly touching your earlobes as your boss approaches you, looking angry and irritated with you even though you haven’t said a single word to him in hours. 

His face is a deep shade of crimson and you can smell his putrid breath as he yells at you, “I thought I told you to have those reports done today by sundown and it’s almost kriffing midnight. I’m tired of telling you how to do your job! Am I not punishing you hard enough? Is that why you’re too stupid to understand how to do something as fucking basic as filing reports?”

“N-No sir,” You panic and instinctively flinch when he harshly grabs your bicep and violently rattles you, “Something came up, sir. I had a patient that had two stab wounds and I just uh, I figured that took priority over a few reports that aren’t crucial. He was in pretty bad condition and I just thought--”

“I don’t give a shit what you think takes priority over my demands,” He hisses, lowering his head to get in your face and intimidate you and you absolutely loathe that he succeeds in frightening you, “When I ask you to do something, you fucking do it without hesitation. I need a nurse that will do her job, not a useless pathetic excuse for a human being that can’t file a few reports by the deadline I give her. Is that understood?”

You blink away the tears and nod fervently, ignoring the bruising grip he has on your arm, “Good. Now get the fuck out of here. I can’t handle having you around fucking everything up right now. Go home.”

"But I--" You're cut off with a harsh squeeze and you try to keep the pain out of your voice when you speak in a quiet, shaky whisper, "Y-Yes, sir. I’m sorry."

When you turn around, lightly rubbing what you know is going to be a painful bruise in the morning, you're surprised to find the blue Mandalorian still standing near the entrance of the infirmary looking extremely tense--more so now than he had been earlier when you’d been stitching his wounds. His visor is trained on you and he's firmly holding the handle of his vibroblade; your eyes widen a little when you realize he had been seconds away from causing a scene and you wonder if the warrior would have actually killed your boss. 

You remain frozen in place until his hand eventually falls from the handle and you skittishly brush past him, his visor following your quick pace as you leave the infirmary and hastily make your way down the empty street, your face flushed and tears burning your eyes.

You just want to go home and lay down and forget about everything that--

"Nurse," The Mandalorian’s deep voice immediately makes you freeze again and your shoulders hunch up when you hear his heavy footsteps slowly approaching you, slow and precise, like predator stalking its prey. Your eyes squeeze shut as you fear the worst case scenarios, knowing all too well of the kind of pain men of his size and strength could inflict on someone like you.

Oh Maker, were you all too aware of what cruel men were capable of. 

When you apprehensively open your eyes, you find it impossible to look at his helmet and stare straight ahead at the center of his chest that’s protected by dull blue metal. You’re paralyzed with fear as you wait for him to strike--to shoot you or perhaps drag you behind the infirmary to have his way with you.

You prayed that he would kill you, rather than robbing you of that innocence that you still weakly held onto.

You’re frozen to the sidewalk when he finally comes to a stop about half a foot away from you, fingers clenching against his thighs and you feel ridiculous when a tear escapes the corner of your eye and slowly travels down your cheek. You’re not sure if the tears in your eyes are from your previous encounter with the older man who constantly made your life a living hell or the fact that there’s a possibility that you’re about to be brutalized by a terrifying Mandalorian.

His helmet cocks to the side when you take a tentative step backwards, your hands wringing together as vicious waves of nerves threaten to suffocate you.

“P-Please don’t--”

"It’s late and dangerous to be walking alone. I'm going to walk you home."

You flinch when he gently grabs your elbow and he's quick to drop it instantly, much to your surprise, "Y-You really… that's not necessary, really. I do this every night and usually don’t have a problem."

He grunts a little and holds out his own elbow for you to take, "It wasn't a question. You helped me and gave me medicine even though I had no credits to spare. Let me return the favor by walking you home,” You stare at his thick arm with distrust carved into your soft features and he must notice it because he eventually speaks up again, “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it long ago, nurse. I have no desire to harm someone who doesn’t deserve it, especially you, of all people. Besides, even if you’re capable of protecting yourself, you’re clearly shaken up right now and not thinking straight.”

“I don’t know you,” The Mandalorian is still holding out his elbow for you to take as you argue with him in a weak murmur, “How am I supposed to believe you’re not just like the rest of them?”

He scoffs a little at your words, shaking his helmet as if he can’t believe you just compared him to a bunch of amateur criminals and bounty hunters, “I don’t like these people anymore than you do. I hate criminals that hurt others who don’t deserve it or can’t defend themselves. Let me walk you home this once and you’ll never have to see me again. You have my word.”

Something about the sincerity in his deep baritone leaves you a little breathless and you no longer feel as threatened by the Mandalorian and you think he’s being utterly genuine with you. There had been disgust in his voice as he spoke of ruthless criminals and perhaps you had misunderstood him and his intentions all along.

“Still don’t believe me?” He sighs when he mistakes your thoughtful silence for hesitance towards his insistent offer to walk you home, “Here, take my vibroblade and if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll let you stab me.”

‘I’ll let you stab me.’

It’s quite possibly the most ridiculous words that a man has ever said to you and your eyebrows shoot up at the nonchalance in his modulated voice, like this is something he says every day. You quickly stop him as he reaches for the handle of his weapon, though you’re not afraid of him hurting you with it, but more incredulous that this huge warrior would give you the chance to do such a thing.

“Haven’t you uh, been stabbed enough for one day?”

His chest heaves and you’re surprised by the deep laugh he lets out at your innocent question, adamant about placing the heavy weapon in your palm, “Yes, I think I have. Now let’s get going.”

“O-Okay,” Your heart is still frantically beating from the initial fear of him taking advantage of you, along with the strange feeling of such a sharp weapon in your hand, “It’s just--it’s kind of a long walk and I’m sure you have better things to--”

“I don’t,” He firmly interjects, almost sounding exasperated with you, “C’mon, tighten your grip on that vibroblade. The later it gets, more rats come out of hiding and target people like you.”

Hesitantly, you curl your fingers into the crook of his elbow just above his vambrace, testing the thickness of the fabric there and squeezing until your fingers stop shaking. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin underneath his tunic and relish in it a little, the atmosphere of Nevarro quite brisk this late at night.

“Thank you for doing this,” You whisper, cheeks burning brightly at how close you are to someone so powerful while holding one of his weapons,“I-It means a lot to me.”

“You said you do this every night.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip as you think of all the bad run-ins you had whenever you had to walk home this late without the protection of a Mandalorian, “It doesn’t make it any less scary when these bounty hunters and criminals find out I’m nothing more than the village nurse.”

You pretend not to notice the way he tenses next to you.

As you lead him to your little hut on the outskirts of the quiet village, you remember all the stories of how Mandalorians were vicious savages and you wonder just how accurate they are. You can't imagine someone with an inherently violent disposition offering you his arm and blade while he walks you home and perhaps your initial impression of the Mandalorian was made in too much of a haste. A few late night stragglers sneer at you and the unfazed Mandalorian and even though you should feel frightened to be walking home alone with a fierce warrior, you find that his presence has quite the opposite effect as people move out of his way to avoid any confrontation.

You can’t remember the last time you actually felt safe walking home so late and you’re barely aware of the way you push yourself closer against his side.

"That man," The Mandalorian's deep voice startles you and you notice him drop his tone in the slightest, "Does he always treat you that way? That roughly?"

You're surprised that he's actually starting a conversation with you, as he seems to be a man of very few words, but you think over his blunt question and carefully choose your words, "It is for my own good. How am I supposed to learn and become a better nurse if I can't follow simple orders?"

"He shouldn't put his hands on you like that. It’s not right when he’s larger than you and you can’t defend yourself properly."

You smile sadly and gaze up at the twinkling stars dotted in the night sky, "He is my boss and my father. He can do whatever he wants as long as I'm working for him and living under his roof.”

“Father?” He cocks his helmet to the side, as if he’s confused by your words, though all you hear is disgust in his modulated voice when he speaks, “A father should never lay a hand on their child the way he did with you earlier. Parents are supposed to protect their family, not hurt and bruise them. He should feel ashamed of the way he treats you and how he talks to you--it’s dishonorable.”

“I am an adult, not a child,” You lazily give him a single-shouldered shrug and sheepishly turn your attention to your worn out boots and your bruised knees that peek out just from the hem of your dress, “It doesn’t bother me. Like I said, it’s better for me to learn this way and he only does it because I’m always messing up.”

“It should bother you,” The Mandalorian shakes his helmet and you think he must be pitying you or judging you, “You should stand up for yourself and leave. Make a better life for yourself.”

You huff out a small laugh, though there’s nothing funny about his words or yours, “Tell me, Mandalorian, where would I go? There is only one infirmary in the village and it’s owned by my father and I have no other useful skills that would help me thrive in a village overrun by bounty hunters and criminals. The nearest city is hundreds of miles away from here and I do not make nearly enough to afford transportation nor to start my life over; my father made sure of that.” 

You’re smiling, but it’s bitter and wistful, wondering why this Mandalorian wanted you to fight for a better life when there was no such thing that existed for you on this planet, “It is easy for you to tell me to fight for myself when you are covered from head to toe in impenetrable steel. My father could ruin my life if he so desired and I would not give him reason to punish me more than he has already.”

“That is no way to live, orikih baar’ur. The way you are treated is no better than the way an owner treats their slave.”

You don’t understand the language and wonder if he’s judging you in his native tongue, and even though you try to shrug it off, you still feel the pain on your shoulders and arms from your last punishment.

“It’s not living,” You agree, lightly squeezing his arm to reassure him that you’re fine, though you think you’re trying to reassure yourself more, “But I’m still surviving and doing what I love the most, helping others. It would be selfish of me to ask for more.”

The Mandalorian grows silent and you wonder what’s going through his head as you lead him through the village, where clustered buildings eventually give way to smaller houses and huts that could do with some renovation and patching up. You think of your own hut that could do with some fixing up, what with all the holes that have been punched through the walls in your father’s fits of rage, or the way rain trickles through cracks in the ceiling and oftentimes leaves you feeling sick with a fever after a night of tossing and turning on a wet mattress. Thinking of how you grew up so poorly and in a hostile environment, it makes you think far more of the Mandalorian’s blunt words and something awful churns in the pit of your stomach.

‘That is no way to live…’

You lift your head up to the stars again and wonder what lingers beyond this forsaken planet, what beauty exists in the galaxy. You had once heard tales of planets covered entirely in oceans or jungles and as you peer at the rocky and volcanic terrain that surrounds the two of you for as far as the eye can see, you wonder what beautiful sights the Mandalorian must have experienced during his years of travel. You remember a patient of yours describing the beauty of Naboo and all of the sights she had witnessed during her weeks of residing on the planet. Even in your wildest dreams, you couldn’t envision massive rolling plains of emerald grass, or glimmering sapphire oceans with waves just as violent as the most fearsome warrior you’ve ever met, the man walking next to you. 

You wonder what it must feel like to have a cool, fresh breeze kiss your flushed skin.

You try to imagine tasting ripe, fresh fruit, rather than bland ration bars, or the scent of sweet flowers tickling your nostrils, rather than the putrid scent of some poor creature being roasted alive.

“My place is just up ahead.”

He must hear how forlorn you’ve become, voice slightly high-pitched and crackly, as if you’re trying your damned hardest not to break down in front of him, because he tilts his helmet to gaze down at you. 

Your cheek is nearly grazing his bicep and you don’t even realize how close you are to him until you smell blaster fire and something spicy on the fabric of the long-sleeved gray tunic he wears underneath a short-sleeved black one. He’s warm, you realize, despite being covered in cold blue metal, and you wonder how such a huge, cold man could make you feel the safest you’ve felt in years, before your mother had passed away and your father was a little less cruel, though not by much. 

You swallow the lump in your throat when the hut you share with your father grows closer and dread threatens to send you fleeing in the opposite direction, though you’re willing to stay next to his side just to enjoy a few rare moments of serenity. Your father won’t be home for another few hours and you hope by then, his anger will have dulled into harmless embers, though you won’t get your hopes up.

“Thank you again for walking me home,” You clear your throat when you two come to a stop in front of the sad excuse for a home and you reluctantly pull away from him, fingertips grazing the crook of his elbow before falling to your side, “They don’t speak too kindly of Mandalorians around here, you know?”

He cocks his helmet downwards and to the side, seeming all too comfortable to speak with you before parting ways, “What do they say?”

“My father used to tell me tales of your people being savages,” You sound shameful as you confess this, tilting your head upwards the tiniest bit to gaze at the geometric emblem embedded into his cuirass, “That Mandalorians would kill innocent people and steal from them with no remorse, that they wouldn’t hesitate to kill women and children, or even torturing them. My father told me your people were worse than the monsters that plagued my dreams.”

You don’t back off when he steps a little closer and reaches out to lightly touch the little violet you always keep tucked behind your ear or in the soft weaves of your braids when it’s too hot to wear your hair down. It was something you wore in your hair every single day since your mother’s death, as she would always stick violets in your thick braids whenever she would style your hair in the morning when you were younger. You remember how she would explain the several medical uses for violets--how it was versatile and could be used for compresses, salves, soothing teas, poultices and much more.

You hadn’t even realized it had become a habit to constantly wear the pretty wildflowers in your hair until the Mandalorian unknowingly pointed it out.

“And what do you think about my people?”

“I used to believe the stories,” You hesitantly crane your neck backwards to peer into his t-shaped visor, wondering if he has warm, soft eyes that betray his cold, modulated voice and you watch as his hand promptly drops to his thigh before he can touch your ear, “Now I think the monsters in my nightmares are far more terrifying than the Mandalorian who walked me home tonight. If your people are anything like you, then I think the rumors are just that--silly rumors that should be ignored.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” His voice drops into a cool rasp that sends shivers up your spine and for what reason, you’re not so sure, “You don’t know what I can do.”

“I don’t need to,” You murmur just as quietly, eyes desperately searching everywhere on his dull blue helmet and you count the number of scuffs created from blaster shots or perhaps sharp daggers like the one he had been attacked with earlier, “You told me yourself that you have no desire to harm innocent people. I think you are the first man on this planet to show me any form of kindness.”

“I don’t doubt it,” He reaches for your arm, just as he had done earlier when he’d first insisted on walking you home, however, this time you don’t flinch and he cocks his helmet a little as he lightly strokes the inside of your clothed elbow with a leather thumb, “Good night, saviin’ika.”

“W-Wait!”

He tilts his helmet to the side when you quickly hold out his vibroblade that you had loosely been holding onto the entire walk home, almost forgetting that he had let you borrow it in case you felt the need to protect yourself against him.

You hadn’t--not once.

“Keep it, at least for now,” He reaches out to gently curl your thin fingers back around the handle, speaking up quickly when you part your lips to protest, “You shouldn’t be walking around without anything to protect yourself, especially this late at night.”

“But wh-what about you?”

Immediately, your eyes land on the heavy cannon attached to his back, along with the blaster on his hip and you cringe, knowing that this warrior would undoubtedly be able to take care of himself without his small blade. Still, you think the Mandalorian is amused as he straightens up and places his hands on his hips, just above his utility belt, and tilts his head backwards and to the side.

“I think I will somehow manage,” He sounds just as amused as you figured he would, “Anything else?”

You hesitate, cheeks still burning like hot coals, “Will I see you again?”

“What? Want to see me get injured again?”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling when you detect a twinge of amusement in his deep voice, “You don’t need to go and hurt yourself to come visit me, Mandalorian. I would prefer to see you in one piece and those ribs all healed. Don’t forget to use that salve--”

“Twice a day,” He finishes and shakes his helm a little at the bright smile you give him, “Take care of yourself, saviin’ika. Don’t hesitate to use that vibroblade if anyone threatens you.”

“Thank you, Mandalorian. See you soon.”

orikih baar’ur= tiny medic

saviin’ika=little violet