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thelikesofus · 2 years

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Bad Things Happen Bingo for Buddie: Common Cold (sick!Eddie/caretaker!Buck please?!)

if i need to rearrange my particles i will for you

Buddie | 9-1-1 on Fox

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Common Cold

bthb master post | 7864 words | sick fic, fluff, cuddling, sharing a bed, love confessions, getting together, sick!Eddie Diaz, caretaker!Evan Buckley

Eddie knows he's not immortal or immune to the ales of man but sometimes he likes to think he is. He has no food allergies, he doesn’t get hayfever, hell, he's been shot on more than one occasion and survived, and for that, he thinks he's allowed to feel somewhat invincible.

Eddie catches a cold and Buck takes care of him while having a minor, non-platonic emotional crisis.

@badthingshappenbingo | Read on AO3

Hi Anon! I am so sorry this took me so long to finish. I literally started writing it the day you sent the ask but somehow it went from a 2k one-shot to this 7k+ monstrosity. I hope it is what you were hoping for. Thank you so much for requesting it <3

It's wishful thinking though because he has a child who attends school with other children and such places are known to be a petri dish of bacteria. For this reason, it had been a surprise to no one when Christopher came home with a cold last week. Grateful for small graces though, Chris had only been off school for two days with a tickly throat and a runny nose. All things considered, it could have been much worse.

'Much worse' hits Eddie like a truck as soon as he wakes up. Every bone in his body aches and his eyes feel immensely heavy despite getting a rare eight hours of sleep the night before.

"Dad! Are you up yet?" Christopher's voice carries shrill and clear through Eddie's bedroom door and God he loves his kid but he loves his sleep almost as much and right now all he wants to do is roll over and close his eyes again.

With a heavy groan, Eddie pulls himself out of bed and puts on his best Good morning face as he opens his bedroom door to greet his son.

"You don't look so good," Christopher states bluntly as he looks up at Eddie with those wide expressive eyes. Sometimes he wishes that his son wasn't quite so perceptive.

He ruffles the boy's hair as he shuffles past him to the bathroom. "Yeah? Well, you have drool on your face."

"No, I don't!" Christopher shouts indignity and Eddie grins despite the stabbing pain behind his eyes.

Carla will be arriving in half an hour to take Chris to school and Eddie is still debating whether or not he should be calling in sick to work. He is scheduled for a twenty-four today and right now he is banking on the magical healing properties of coffee to make this groggy feeling go away.

"Go get your school clothes on Little Man, breakfast will be ready in a minute."

"By breakfast you mean cereal." Eddie turns his head over his shoulder just in time to see Chris frown at the prospect of another round of Captain Crunch . Then he grins up at Eddie in that cheeky way that lets Eddie know that he's got something to say that Eddie won't agree with. "I wish Buck lived with us, then we could have pancakes for every breakfast!"

Me too, Kid. But that is an entirely different kind of wishful thinking and Eddie very quickly shuts down that train of thought.

"Well, we don't have time for pancakes this morning anyway, because you are still in your pajamas. Come on!" He makes a shooing motion toward Christopher's bedroom and his son disappears down the hallway with a giggle.

As soon as Christopher is out of sight Eddie makes a beeline for the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. He sinks back against the counter while he waits for it to brew and holds his head between his hands, rubbing at his temples as if to ward away the impending headache. All he needs is a couple of aspirin and a cup of coffee. Maybe two cups of coffee.

He has Christopher's cereal waiting on the table for him and is halfway through his first mug of life-saving caffeine when Carla knocks on the front door and he goes to let her in.

"Good morning Ed- oh dear, you do not look well." Her expression shifts from its usual open greeting to wide-eyed concern. Eddie can't help but let out a depreciating chuckle.

"Good morning to you too." He opens the door wider to let her into the house as she continues to direct judgment on the state of his health.

"Eddie, honey, are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, of course. Just a headache, I probably just didn't drink enough water yesterday." He brushes her off absently and is about to head back to the dining room where he can hear Chris shuffling about but he is quickly brought to a standstill by Carla pressing the back of her hand against his forehead and humming apprehensively.

"You're a bit warm." She frowns at him again. "You're working today?"

"Yeah, I'll be leaving just behind you." Still trying to shake off the shock of Carla's hand making contact with his clammy skin. The last time someone took his temperature like that, with that level of care and attention, was probably his Abeula and Eddie was probably all of fourteen. The frown on Carla's face deepens and Eddie knows he's in for a fight.

"You should stay home, Honey."

"I'm fine Carla, honestly." He turns to walk back into the house and as if the world turns against him in an instant, his vision blurs and he's suddenly very dizzy. He thrusts out a hand to right himself against the wall and manages to catch himself before he stumbles. It's too late though, Carla lets out a self-satisfied laugh from behind him.

"Okay, no you are not going anywhere." She carefully plucks his coffee mug from the hand that isn't still pressed against the wall and he barely suppresses a whine. "Go sit down Eddie, and call Bobby. You can't go to work like this."

"But-"

"Go." And she makes the same shooing motion that he made at Christopher not even half an hour ago. It does not feel so good to be on the receiving end.

Reluctantly, Eddie shuffles into the living room and sinks down on the couch. For a moment he stares blankly down at his phone in his hands. Maybe if he holds it off long enough he can convince Carla that he'll make the call after she leaves and then he can still sneak out to work, she wouldn't know.

She would know.

Bobby picks up after the third ring.

"Morning Eddie, everything alright? Is Christopher okay?" Once again Eddie is reminded of how grateful he is for the people he has surrounded himself with since moving to LA.

"Yes, no, Chris is good, he's great. I'm not going to be able to come in today though. Or more, Carla won't let me go." He leans forward on his knees, resting his forehead in one hand as he holds his phone to his ear with the other. His head still feels like it’s spinning.

"Oh? Are you okay?" Bobby's voice is filled with concern in an instant.

"Yeah, just a headache and a bit dizzy. I've probably caught Chris's cold. I'm sure it’ll clear up by tomorrow."

"Okay, well you take today and see how you get on, let me know if you need a few more days okay? You take care of yourself, Eddie."

"Thanks, Cap." Eddie smiles softly. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, Bye Eddie. Let us know if you need anything."

"Will do. Bye, Bobby. Thanks."

Bobby hangs up and Eddie doesn't move straight away, letting his phone fall onto his lap as he rests the palms of his hands against his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. If he's not going to work then he might as well take Chris to school himself, and let Carla have her day to herself.

He's just about to force himself off the couch when Christopher comes into the room with Carla in tow.

"Don't you even think about moving." She warns and Chris sinks into the couch beside him, gently wrapping his arms around Eddie's middle.

"Are you sick?" He has got those big eyes again, the ones the size of dinner plates that turn Eddie’s heart to mush. "Did I make you sick?"

"No, Buddy, of course not. I'm okay." Eddie promises, he tucks Chris further into his side and presses a kiss to his soft curls. "I will be okay. I just need some more sleep. But first, we need to get you to school."

Again he tries to stand up only to find Carla's hand pressing heavily on his shoulder as she all but forces him back into the seat and puts a new mug on the coffee table in front of him. The contents certainly doesn’t smell like coffee and he knows that she catches the way his nose wrinkles against his will.

"It's herbal tea. It won't kill you, in fact, it will make you feel better. And don't you worry about Christopher, I will get him to school. We've got this haven't we, Sunshine?" And Chris grins up at her.

"Yup! You stay here and get better Dad."

"Okay, Buddy." Eddie relents, there's no way he's winning this one and honestly, he's running out of willpower to fight anyway. The heavy feeling is returning to his limbs and he's starting to become concerned by the fact that there are apparently two Carlas standing in front of him where a moment ago there had only been one.

He gives his head a light shake to try and clear his vision though it has little effect. He kisses the crown of Christopher's head again and gives him a tight squeeze before letting him up off the couch.

"Have a good day, Kiddo."

"Bye Dad, love you."

"I love you too, I'll see you when you get home," Eddie replies, his chest filled with warmth and love for his perfect boy.

"Okay, bye!" And then Chris is gone from the room and grabbing his school bag from the hook by the front door.

Carla remains for a moment, watching Eddie carefully. "You behave yourself alright. Look after yourself. Have you talked to Buck?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Buck's working, I'll call him later, maybe. I'm sure Bobby will tell the rest of the crew that I won't be in anyway."

Carla frowns but shakes her head.

"Okay, well I need to get your boy on his way. Call if you need anything okay." She turns a soft look onto him and he relents.

"I will, thank you." And she smiles softly and squeezes his shoulders as she leaves.

"Of course Eddie, any time."

She glances around the room quickly to make sure Christopher hasn't forgotten anything before she too leaves the room.

"Drink your tea!" She throws over her shoulder just before she closes the door behind her and Eddie sinks back into the couch with a hollow groan.

_____

Eddie's truck isn't in the car park when Buck pulls up to work and already he can tell that today is going to suck. He tries not to panic though, maybe Eddie is just running late.

With a pit in his stomach, Buck grabs his duffle bag from the passenger seat, locks the jeep behind him, and traipses into the firehouse and up the stairs to the loft. Chimney and Hen are both already there, peering at something on Chimney's phone at one end of the table, and Bobby is in the kitchen prepping breakfast. There is still no sign of Eddie.

Bobby looks up as Buck comes into the kitchen and he straightens and raps his knuckles on the benchtop, getting the attention of both Hen and Chimney.

"Eddie called in sick this morning," He announces. "So, we're a man down today, at least until lunchtime. One of the guys from B-shift will be in to cover at midday but until then it's just us."

Buck’s stomach drops. That is considerably worse than being stuck in traffic or running late.

"What? Is- is he okay?"

"He said he's fine, he thinks he might have caught Christopher's cold," Bobby assures him but then he must see the stricken look on Buck's face before he's able to hide it and he sighs and pats Buck on the shoulder as he leaves the kitchen. "He's fine Buck, I'm sure he'll be back in a day or so."

Buck frowns but nods his head as he dishes himself some breakfast and takes his plate to the table. He pulls his phone out under the table and quickly fires a text to Eddie.

TO: EDDIE CELL

hey you good?

do you need me to pick you up anything after shift?

He leaves his phone face up on the table as he picks up his fork and shoves a bit of hash brown into his mouth, watching the screen closely for Eddie's reply. A reply that still hasn't arrived when Buck finishes his breakfast. He’s just about to call Eddie when the alarm goes off, the shrill ringing echoing throughout the building.

_____

For once Buck is grateful he was only rostered on for a twelve-hour shift today. Eddie was supposed to be on for a twenty-four so Christopher should be at Tia Pepa's tonight, Carla would have dropped him there after school.

After not being able to get through to Eddie all day, Buck had called Carla during a brief moment of downtime and she had assured him that she had gotten Christopher to school and would still pick him up at the end of the day. When he asked about Eddie she had said that he seemed okay that morning if very tired and groggy.

As soon as his shift ends and he's waved goodbye to the others Buck is grabbing his duffle and making a beeline for his Jeep.

He still hasn't heard from Eddie and it is becoming a cause for concern. Eddie is notorious for having his phone glued into his back pocket in case anything happens to Christopher and someone tries to contact him. Considering the number of texts Buck has sent him throughout the day to check on him, all of which have gone unanswered, Buck is more than a little perturbed.

On his way to Eddie's house, he swings past the pharmacy, buys a bunch of random things off the shelf marked Cold & Flu, and gets an astonished look from the cashier as he the piles of boxes and bottles onto the counter. He knows it's probably overkill, but he doesn't know what he is going to be walking into and he wants to be prepared.

He lets himself in when he gets to Eddie's house, leaving his Jeep parked in the driveway.

The house is quiet. The first sign that something is wrong. Eddie isn’t exactly the sort to sleep the day away. Usually, he takes any time he has with the house to himself to catch up on chores. More than once Buck has been roped into loads of laundry or deep cleaning the bathroom. Admittedly Buck did all of this without complaint because he sees any time he gets to spend with Eddie as a gift from the universe and he is a thirsty man. He did draw the line at washing Eddie’s curtains, for the second time in one month.

But still, the house is quiet, and there is a half-full coffee mug sitting on the kitchen counter and Buck’s heart rate is picking up in his chest as he tries to squash his rising panic.

“Eddie?” He calls out as he toes his shoes off and dumps his duffle bag in the entryway. Eddie will surely berate him for leaving his stuff laying around later but right now he has bigger issues. The last time he had come to Eddie’s house and found him unresponsive behind his locked bedroom door had not been an enjoyable experience for either of them and Buck prays to all things holy that he is not about to find Eddie having another breakdown.

When he does spot Eddie, he is curled in a ball on his couch with his arms tucked up to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut. He is stiff as a board but Buck can see the shiver quaking across the plains of his shoulders even from across the room.

Buck rushes to his side, quickly dropping to his knees next to the couch and trying to get his face in Eddie’s line of sight.

“Eddie? Hey man, you good?”

He gets no response. Eddie’s hands are fisted into the front of his own shirt and his knuckles are white as a sheet. It’s then that Buck takes in just how pale Eddie is. His usual olive complexion is looking washed out and creamy in the bright light of his living room.

“Eddie? Come on, can you hear me? Eds?”

Last time, when he found Eddie rocking back and forth on his bedroom floor and barely responsive with a baseball bat clutched between his hands, Buck had known better than to try and touch him before Eddie was able to tether himself back to reality. Right now though, with Eddie looking almost catatonic and completely unresponsive, Buck is running out of alternatives. Bobby had said that Eddie had claimed to have a cold that morning and so that is where Buck decides to start. Vitals and symptoms, follow protocol. That he can do.

He reaches out gingerly and lays the back of his hand against Eddie’s forehead. Buck’s not sure who flinches more, Eddie at the sudden contact, or Buck at how hot Eddie’s skin is. He’s burning up and yet Buck can still see the way he is shivering as his muscles spasm under his t-shirt.

“Eddie! Hey, come on man.” Buck rubs the palm of his hand firmly between Eddie’s shoulder blades and back and forth across his shoulders. Buck’s heart is pounding behind his ribcage and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. Finally, he gets a strangled groan in response and sees Eddie’s eyes shift behind his eyelids.

“Hey, hey, that’s it. Hey, Buddy, you gotta wake up for me. Come on Eddie.” He continues rubbing his hand back and forth as he reaches out to brush the damp curls of Eddie’s fringe back off his forehead.

Buck swears he cannot be held accountable for the way his heart reacted the first time he saw Eddie with his new, In therapy, Working on myself, haircut. The way his palms started sweating and his throat got tighter was instantly passed off as just being happy to see Eddie after weeks of awkward phone calls and canceled plans post-Eddie leaving the 118. Now he knows better but still doesn’t find it productive to think about the way the new trim seemed to make Eddie’s already big brown eyes look wider and the way Buck feels like he would drown in them if given the chance. He knows firsthand the way the molten chocolate can suck you in and never let you go and he would be hopeless and loath to resist.

Finally, Eddie’s eyelids flutter and the barest slither of his eyes peeks through.

“That’s it. Hi, it’s me, it’s Buck.” He feels the need to clarify why anyone other than Buck would be standing in Eddie's living room on a Friday night. Eddie groans again and tries to tuck his face into the couch cushions as he lets his eyes slip shut again. “No, no, no. You gotta stay with me, Eds. Look at me, look at me.”

Buck slides his hand down the side of Eddie’s face, ignoring the clammy way that sweat sits against his skin as he cups Eddie's cheek and tilts his head back up again. He winds an arm slowly around Eddie’s back and tries to leverage him into a sitting position.

“Come on lazy bones, work with me here.” Eddie only groans again and his face screws up in discomfort. “Yeah, yeah. I’m a horrible person waking you up from your nap. You will thank me later.”

He can see the moment that Eddie starts to come around, once he’s sat upright and the blood isn’t all rushing to his head. His chin tries to lull against his chest but Buck props it up gently, one hand still firmly against his cheek while the other curls around the side of his ribs, squeezing gently.

“There we go, that’s it.”

“Buck?” Eddie mumbles though it comes out more like Buhhm.

“Yeah, Baby, it’s me. I’m right here.” The pet name slips out and Bucks rushes to cover his tracks, hoping that Eddie doesn’t notice in his woozy state. Buck already has one crisis to deal with right now. “How are you feeling? You don’t look too hot.”

Eddie grumbles something that Buck thinks is a snide remark about his level of attractiveness and as mentioned, one crisis at a time. Besides, the patent Diaz Sarcasm is a good sign.

“I can’t believe you were going to try and go to work today. Carla said she pretty much had to force you to stay home.” Buck chuckles.

“She’s scary,” Eddie grumbles as his head hangs heavily in Buck’s hold, if Buck didn’t know better he would almost think that Eddie was trying to nuzzle into him but it is just the fever reacting, he’s sure. “-feel fine.”

“Really?” Buck puts on his most astounded voice, “This is what you call fine. Wow, I would hate to see you at anything less than fine.” He’s sure that if Eddie were any more coherent he would be rolling his eyes and pretending not to be amused.

“Well, I guess you don’t need me then. If you’re fine.” Buck makes to pull away and Eddie makes a disagreeable noise.

“Buck,” He draws the name out as he finally turns those big brown eyes up to look directly at Buck. “My head hurts.” He admits, sounding like a petulant five-year-old, and Buck melts.

“I know, Baby.” Oh, sue him. It’s not often he gets to indulge in coddling Eddie. Let him have this. “Hey, I’m gonna get you some water, okay, but you gotta stay awake for me. Can you do that?”

Eddie stares at him blankly for a minute before he seems to shake himself out of the awed state he was in. He seems just as surprised to see Buck in his living room as Buck was to find him trying to become one with his couch cushions.

"Mmh, yeah. I'll try." He eventually replies.

"Okay, that's good. I'll be back in two seconds, just keep your eyes open." Buck barely waits for Eddie's grumbled affirmative before he's ducking out of the room and heads for the kitchen. He returns a moment later with one of Christopher's water bottles in one of his hands and a packet of the Advil he brought at the pharmacy in the other.

"Okay hotshot let's get some of the good stuff in you and then we'll try food yeah?" Buck crouched down in front of Eddie, dutifully ignoring how close he is to Eddie as he kneels between his knees and tucks the bottle into Eddie's hand while he pops two pills out of their foil sleeve.

Eddie hands the water bottle back to him when he is finished drinking and has swallowed the tablets. Buck takes it from him and turns to put the coffee table behind him but doesn't move from where he is kneeling on the floor. When he turns back Eddie is still looking at him and his eyes are a little bit glassy.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asks carefully, his voice barely above a whisper as if he is afraid he will scare Buck away if he speaks too loudly or says the wrong thing. As if there was anything Eddie could do to scare Buck away.

Carefully he reaches out and grips each of Eddie's knees with his hands and tips his head up under Eddie’s line of sight. “Because you’re sick and you didn’t tell me. Because you spent the last twelve hours passed out on your couch and obviously can’t take care of yourself right now.”

“I can, I’m fine,” As if to prove it Eddie moves to push himself up off the couch and Buck can see the moment his head starts spinning and he collapses back onto the cushions and brings his hands up to press at his temples. “Okay, maybe not fine.”

He sounds so resigned like he's more annoyed at being proved wrong than he is at being sick. Buck has to stifle a laugh as he reaches up and grips each of Eddie’s wrists and pulls them away from his head.

“Hey, we’ll have you up and dancing in no time. But first, you need food and a night of proper sleep. Preferably in your bed and not on this couch. It’s really not as comfortable as you think it is.” Buck isn't complaining, he would sleep on Eddie’s couch for the rest of his life just to be able to bask in the domestic, homely presence that is Eddie and Christopher's house.

“Okay.” Eddie agrees and Buck squeezes his shoulders on his way to standing. A quick reassurance that he will be back soon.

In the kitchen, he finds a tub of vegetable soup in the freezer that he had dropped off when Christopher was sick, and a loaf of bread twisted shut and left sitting on the counter. He puts a couple of slices of bread in the toaster whilst he thaws and reheats the soup. He also finds a box of Carla’s herbal tea sitting pointedly beside the coffee machine and quickly boils some water to make Eddie a cup to go with his soup and toast. No doubt Eddie will complain. Regardless of the state of his health, the man almost exclusively drinks coffee and orange juice and has been known to downright refuse to drink almost anything else, besides water.

Unsurprisingly Eddie turns up his nose as soon as he sees Buck returning with a mug of tea in one hand and the plate of toast in the other. He’ll go back to the soup in a minute when the microwave finishes.

“No, come on Buck. Carla already made me drink that this morning.” Eddie whinges.

“Well then you know it’s good for you.” He counters and Eddie rolls his eyes but excepts the mug with a resigned sigh and warms his hands on the sides while Buck places the toast on the coffee table. He takes the now empty water bottle back to the kitchen with him when he hears the microwave beep.

Eddie is still staring forlornly into the top of his cup of tea when Buck returns and the bowl of soup joins the toast on the table while Buck perches himself carefully on the couch next to Eddie.

“Hey,” Buck prompts and places his palm open against Eddie’s back in between his shoulder blades. Eddie’s skin is more than warm even through his t-shirt, which is a little bit damp with the sweat of Eddie’s flu. Had it been anyone else Buck might have found it a little bit gross but it’s Eddie . “What’s bouncing around in the empty brain of yours?”

Eddie shakes his head but leans back into his hand and Buck runs it reassuringly up and down his spine with even pressure.

“Eddie? Hey, talk to me man.” He tucks his chin down to try and catch Eddie’s eye but the other man abandons his mug of tea on the table to run the heels of his hands up his face and covers his eyes. Buck waits patiently and after a moment Eddies lets out a deep sigh and drops his hands from his face but continues staring straight ahead.

“I’m tired,” He says finally, his shoulders digging under the weight of the admission, “I’m tired, I hate being sick. And I miss Christopher.”

Since The Baseball Bat Incident a few months ago Eddie has been working on communicating his actual thoughts and feelings more. It is something Frank originally encouraged him to do to become more aware of his own emotions and to allow those around him to help him validate them. Even though it sometimes takes a moment of hesitation for Eddie to share what he’s thinking, Buck’s heart squeezes with pride every time Eddie willingly shares it with him, even if Eddie tries to downplay it or thinks it's irrational.

“I know, being sick isn’t any fun and I miss Christopher too,” Buck slides his hand across Eddies back and wraps it around his shoulders, and pulls Eddie in against his side. “But he will be home in the morning and then we can spend all day watching Disney movies and playing Mario Cart. The sooner you eat and get to bed the sooner that will be though.”

Buck tucks his chin over Eddie’s shoulder as Eddie leans further into his side and tips his head to rest against Buck’s. Buck matches his breathing and Eddie takes a few deep breaths through an obviously blocked nose, waiting for Eddie to pull away first. Though he’s making good progress with so verbal communication, Eddie still struggles to ask for physical comfort when he needs it. Thankfully that is something that Buck has no qualms in giving freely and in abundance.

Eventually, Eddie sits up straight again and reaches up to squeeze the hand that Buck has around his shoulder.

“Okay, but I am not drinking that leaf water.”

“Yes, you are.”

“ Fine .”

Buck removes his arm but stays pressed along Eddie’s side on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee.

_____

Eventually, Eddie does manage to down the whole mug of herbal tea, though he pulls a terrible face with every mouthful. Buck knows that most of it is just for show. His friend is nothing if not dramatic, and yet he has been trying to blame some of Christopher's recently developing sass on Buck’s influence.

"Feel better?" Buck prompt when Eddie puts his empty soup bowl on the table next two the empty plate and mug.

"I feel full."

"Well, that's a good start. Do you think you can make it to your room? I'll just take these dishes to the kitchen."

"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine." Eddie tries for conviction and falls short but Buck doesn't call him on it.

"Okay, I'll give you a minute." He cups the back of Eddie's neck as he stands up from the couch, he's still concerningly warm but not as bad as when Buck first arrived. He leaves Eddie on the couch and carries the dishes to the kitchen, quickly rinsing them and vowing to wash them properly before he makes his bed on the couch. He has no plans to go anywhere tonight but first things first, he needs to get Eddie to bed.

When he returns to the living room he finds Eddie still sitting on the couch. He's perched on the edge of the seat like he's preparing to stand up but his head is between his hands and his eyes are closed.

"How's the bedtime routine going?"

"Tried. Too dizzy." Eddie groans and rubs his temples.

"Okay, okay. I got you." Buck's feet carry him across the room to stand in front of Eddie as he reaches out both of his hands. Eddie looks up, takes a deep breath, and then winces as he reaches back and grabs Buck's forearms, allowing himself to be pulled slowly to his feet.

Once standing, Eddie sways concerningly and Buck quickly throws Eddie's arm over his shoulders and tucks himself into Eddie's side, propping him up steadily.

"Woah, okay. Easy, easy." He wraps his arm around Eddie's back and squeezes his side reassuringly. "Let's take this slowly, okay? One foot in front of the other. I've got you."

They make it halfway down the hallway before Eddie tenses up and he abruptly stops Buck in his tracks.

"Wait, wait! Stop." He is pale as a sheet and his eyes are unfocused.

"Okay, okay. Deep breaths, in through your nose, out through your mouth." Buck instructs trying to keep nausea at bay. "That's it, you're doing good."

"I'm sorry." Eddie whims. "I just-"

"No. No sorrys. You're okay." Buck assures him. "I've got you. Nowhere I'd rather be, okay?"

He's giving too much away, if Eddie were fully coherent, conscious enough to read into Buck's words and actions even a little bit, he would surely see every truth written plainly across Buck's face. Every terrifying emotion Buck feels towards him coating every word. Maybe he still knows. Buck is getting worse and worse at hiding it, at pretending that the way he feels for Eddie, the way he cares for him, still falls in the category of 'just dudes being bros'. The way Buck cares for Eddie has been anything but platonic for a long time now.

And Eddie being sick, Eddie barely able to stay on his own two feet, has Buck's heart breaking at every shaky step. They stand still in the middle of the hallway, the light of the moonlight and the street lamps barely spilling from the living room window.

"Glad you're here." It is the quietest whisper, barely audible over the pounding in Buck's chest and his heart leaps unbidden. Eddie sinks more heavily into Buck's hold and he quickly has to rearrange his grip to keep him upright.

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Buck repeats and tucks his chin into Eddie’s shoulder, pressing his forehead against the side of his head as Eddie breaths deeply. Eventually, Eddie nods and squeezes his forearm and they start moving down the hallway again.

Buck sits Eddie down on the edge of his bed and waits for him to right himself and stop swaying before he digs into Eddie's draws and finds him a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt. He leaves them on the bed beside Eddie, instructing him to get changed while Buck does the same and excuses himself to the bathroom, grabbing a top and shorts from Eddie's draws for himself as he passes.

Once changed, Buck stands in front of the mirror in Eddie's bathroom, toying with the material of the t-shirt between his fingers as he glances from the fraying hem up to his own reflection. The material is worn soft and stretches over Buck's shoulders in an obscene way. It even smells like Eddie, like the scent-free laundry detergent that he buys because it doesn't irritate Christopher's skin, like the soft, warm scented cologne that Karen got him for Christmas last year, and like that distinctly Eddie thing that Buck can never identify but always makes he feel at home. It causes his stomach to roll and his heart to squeeze in his chest.

He leans his palms against the bench and takes a long deep breath through his nose and lets it out again slowly.

Eddie is resting back against the headboard of his bed when Buck returns to the bedroom. Buck smiles at him softly when he lifts his head and Eddie returns it quietly. His eyes look clearer than when Buck left him, the change of scenery and the cool temperature of Eddie’s bedroom probably helping to clear his head a bit.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Buck asks as he makes quick work of closing the curtains and making sure that the water bottle Eddie often keeps by his bed is full. Maybe he should find some Advil for him too. “Do you still feel queasy?”

Eddie glances up from where he has been fiddling with his hands and shakes his head slowly.

“No, I’m okay now I think.”

“Okay.” Buck takes one more quick glance around the room, “Okay, that's good. Well, I’ll be in the living room if you need me. Seriously, please just wake me up if you start feeling worse again.”

Eddie stares at him blankly and Buck decides that he’s probably too tired to process much of what Buck is saying so he claps his hands in front of himself and makes for the door.

“Right, I will leave you to-”

“Stay."

Buck's head shoots up so quickly that his neck aches. He looks at Eddie, sitting quietly in his bed, his legs half under the covers and his hands folded tightly together in his lap.

"What?" Buck says intelligently.

"Stay. You said the couch isn't comfortable.” Eddie takes a pause and after a moment, “And I want you to stay.”

“Eddie, you-”

“Buck.” Those wide, brown eyes. Oh, how Buck crumbles before them.

"You sure?" Buck presses and Eddie nods firmly.

"Please, Buck.” And who is Buck to say No to an offer like that?

Slowly he rounds to the other side of the bed as Eddie situates himself fully under the covers and lays down with the blankets pulled snuggly under his chin. Buck still hesitates as he pulls back the covers on the other side of the bed and perches on the edge of the mattress.

It's not the first time they've shared a bed. They did it for months during quarantine but that was out of necessity and short of building a pillow wall between them, they had kept to their own sides of the bed. Any accidental koala-like behavior was quickly brushed off in the morning and never spoken about.

"Buck." He glances down at Eddie and finds those comforting eyes staring back at him, nothing but softness in Eddie's expression. And when Eddie reaches over and grasps Buck's wrist, tugging lightly, Buck is hopeless to resist and quickly slides under the covers.

"You better not get me sick too," Buck says for the sake of something to say.

“No promises.” Eddie jokes and Buck hums accusingly.

They are both quiet for a long moment, laying side by side under Eddie’s soft green covers, Eddie's fingers still circling Buck’s wrist. His grip isn't very tight but it is firm enough that Buck knows he is not going to let go.

“Thank you,” Eddie whispers into the darkness. “For coming, for staying.”

“Always.” Buck replies and in a moment of complete insanity shifts his hand so that he can slip Eddie’s fingers from around his wrist and grip them between his own. He hears Eddie’s breath catch and then he squeezes back and some of the pressure on Buck’s chest alleviates.

_____

When Buck wakes up the sun is streaming through the gap between Eddie's bedroom curtains and Eddie is sprawled across Buck's chest, his head tucked comfortably beneath his chin and his arms wrapped snugly around Buck's waist. Buck takes stock and finds that his own arms are firmly around Eddie, holding him in place and even with the weight of a full-grown man on top of him, Buck has never been so comfortable.

Very slowly Buck retracts one hand from under the covers and presses the back of his hand to Eddie's forehead. The sigh of relief he lets out is completely unintentional. Eddie's fever broke at some point during the night and the color is already returning to his cheeks. God, even Eddie's immune system is a drama queen, having such a meltdown over a twenty-four-hour flu. Buck isn't the least bit surprised.

Eddie stirs on top of him and nuzzles his face more firmly against Buck’s throat in a way that means he is sure to feel the way that Buck’s pulse beats erratically against his skin. Buck takes a deep, controlled breath and lets it out slowly through his nose. His breath ruffles Eddie's hair and the other man snuffles and shifts on top of Buck.

Buck is contemplating extracting himself from Eddie's hold when suddenly wide brown eyes are staring into his own and he is locked into a staring match with a very confused and suddenly very awake Eddie Diaz.

"Buck?" Eddie lifts one arm from where it was resting against Buck's side to rub at his eyes as if he doesn't recognize Buck from half a foot in front of his face.

Buck isn't sure how he is supposed to respond either. Did Eddie's fever-fogged brain forget everything from the day before? Has he woken up with some sort of fever-induced amnesia?

"Ah, Yes?" Buck says dumbly as he continues to stare into Eddie's eyes, suddenly unable to make any of his limbs respond.

Eddie squints back at him for a moment, obviously taking stock of their proximity but also not making any moves to pull away or extract himself from Buck's hold.

"You are in my bed." It's a statement that sounds like a question and Buck's heart drops to his stomach.

"You wouldn't let me sleep on the couch." He eventually responds.

Eddie continues to watch him carefully for a moment before he nods like that makes sense and almost instantly collapses back down on top of Buck's chest, tucking himself comfortably under his chin and snaking his arms around his waist.

"Good." He says with a content sigh. "Should have told you to stop sleeping there ages ago. Your legs are too long."

Buck's barely awake brain ticks over as it tries to equate what sounds like Eddie not wanting Buck to stay at his house anymore with the present act of Eddie trying to bury himself in Buck's ribcage.

"I can hear you overthinking, Buckley." Buck squirms when Eddie pokes him soundly in the ribs. "I wasn't trying to insinuate anything."

After a moment Buck lets himself relax back into the mattress and rests his hand softly between Eddie's shoulder blades, deciding that if Eddie isn't going to acknowledge the way they have pretzeled themselves together beneath his bed sheets then he will also bask in it while he has the chance.

"How are you feeling?"

"A bit groggy, thirsty. But a lot better than yesterday."

There's a pause before Eddie continues, his voice barely above a whisper but Buck can feel the way it rumbles through his chest.

"Thank you," He presses his hand against the curve of Buck's waist, his fingertips brushing along the hem of his shirt. Buck barely suppresses a shiver as goose bumps wash across his skin. "For looking after me."

"Always."

Buck rubs his hand up and down Eddie's back, feeling the knobs of his spine beneath his palm and the way his muscles shift under the fabric of his t-shirt.

Birds chirp outside the window, a car drives down the street and one of the neighbor's kids rolls past on their skateboard. The world is waking up around them and yet Buck and Eddie draw closer to each other. Tucked together like two interlocking puzzle pieces, Buck's chin resting on the top of Eddie's head, Eddie's hands fisted into Buck's shirt.

"Hey, Buck?"

Buck hums in response, his eyes slipping shut as he lets the warmth of Eddie's embrace sink down into his bones.

"Do you wanna come to pick Chris up with me later? We can maybe take him to the park for the afternoon or watch that Disney movies he's been obsessed with."

"Encanto?"

"Yeah, that one." Eddie nods against his chest and slowly fingers at the sleeve of Buck's shirt, his fingertips brushing against Buck's bicep in delicate, unintentional strokes. "You could stay for dinner if you want and maybe here again tonight, with me? Not on the couch."

Eddie rushes through the end of his question as quickly as the words reach Buck's ear and he's suddenly wide awake and sitting upright. Eddie is thrown off of him and starts picking at the bed sheets, avoiding Buck's startled gaze.

"Eddie? Eddie, what are you-?"

"Look, I hate it when you go back to your loft, okay? The house feels like it's missing something, someone, when you're not here and it feels more like a home when you are. I want you to belong here, with us. With me."

"I just-," Eddie lets out a resigned sigh, glancing up at Buck before quickly looking away again. "I want you here, Buck. Always. So does Christopher. He was complaining this morning about having to have cereal for breakfast because you weren't here for pancakes."

There's a depreciating chuckle before he continues. Eddie's shoulders are stiff and square, the relaxed and openly affectionate state he had woken up in nowhere to be seen.

"Eddie, I -." Buck's heart is pounding in his chest and if he could find the strength he would pinch himself because surely he is either dreaming or completely misinterpreting Eddie's words.

"It's okay, maybe I read this all wrong," He's rushing his words again, covering his tracks. Buck can see his walls coming up around him in real time, "And if that's the case then I won't bring it up again. I just- I couldn't let you leave again without you knowing. Not after this, not now that I know what it's like to wake up in your arms and know that I want to be able to do that for the rest of my life."

With an almost completely closed off gaze, Eddie finally glances up to met Buck's eyes, obviously trying to gage his reaction.

"Then stay." Eddie is facing him fully now, sitting cross-legged next to Buck's hip and cupping his hand over the ball of his shoulder before slipping it up to clasp the side of Buck's neck. "Please stay."

"You- Are you sure? I didn't even know you- Eds, I want that too."

There's a glint of hope and it almost takes Buck's breath away.

"Okay." Buck can't fight the grin that spreads across his face so quickly his cheeks hurt instantly. "You mean it? Truly?"

Their heads slowly draw closer to each other.

"I love you," Eddie says in lieu of an answer, and that about covers it. Buck tips himself over the last remaining inch to press his lips against Eddie's.

In that same instant, Eddie presses his hand over Buck's mouth, stopping him in his tracks.

"No, wait! You'll get sick!"

"Don't care." Buck grabs Eddie's wrist and pulls his hand away, cupping his other hand around Eddie's cheek and tipping their foreheads together.

"You should." Eddie laughs, bright and free and the most beautiful sound Buck has ever heard. And it tastes just as good as it sounds as finally Buck kisses him.

There are no fireworks or orchestral swells, but it's warm and soft, and still perfect. Heat rushes through Buck's chest and his toes tingle as Eddie kisses back with just as much intent. Buck tips his head to the side, using the hand still resting against Eddie's chin to guide their movements and deepen the kiss. After a moment Eddie pulls away, an awestruck giggle escaping his lips.

"You really will get sick." He says again, trying to reason with him even as he fights to keep the grin off his face. "And I won't be any good at taking care of you. I can't even make you soup."

"Still don't care." He presses another short peck against Eddie's lips, reveling in the way it makes his grin widen and Buck's own smile only matches it. "But for what it's worth, you already take care of me, always."

"Always." Eddie agrees, his cheeks are glowing with warmth and his smile is still firmly in place. He looks happy, he looks healthier and Buck feels settled.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 fox #eddie diaz #evan buck buckely #buck 911 #911 fic #bad things happen bingo #meegs writes stuff #meegs says stuff #buddie 911 #sick fic #Sick!Eddie Diaz #Caretaker!Buck #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #asks #anon request #fic request

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xcertaindarkthingsx · 4 years

Text

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child. one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck. i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep. You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no. Not odd. More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it. It had been quiet and awkward the first few months. He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt). But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence. It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up. You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut. How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad. It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now. He shook his head.

“Not yet. I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease. Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Complications?”

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily. “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back. Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued. “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information. I came back for you and the kid first. I know you guys must be hungry.”

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you. “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town. It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender. Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion. On Mando’s end. Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you. “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air. “Excuse me?”

“No. Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.

“Listen, Mando. This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.” The Weequay sighed. “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man. You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out. You were non-negotiable.

The bartender just shrugged. “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in. All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so. He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.

But Mando needed this, right? You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you. This was the least you could do for him. You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty. It was a lot of credits.

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself. “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room. “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.

The dress was too… everything. Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure. His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you. It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous. The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform. As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse. “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one. One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you. “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it. Good?

You gave him an exasperated look. “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid. You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this. And well, he tried. The whole way back to the ship, in fact. But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.

The reality was, Mando wanted you. He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception. And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get. He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him. And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well. The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile. “Don’t worry, Mando. Everything will be fine.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The night had started well enough. After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside. He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you. You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze. The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose. Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him. His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business. The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention? You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours. Kriff, he had caught you staring. So much for subtle. Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering. With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was. An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche. You wanted to smack him for being so close.

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning. You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street. You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow. Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall. A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse. Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted. Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse. He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me. “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick. That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made. He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you. As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor. What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise. That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg. He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty. He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times. The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething. You could have sworn his hands were shaking.

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless. The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl. Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room. The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long. When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship. You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels. Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears. He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.

Worry bloomed in your chest. The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it. You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine. You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped. You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists. The tremble in his hands. Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me? I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine. “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways. Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red. But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.” He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly. Wh-why did he care so much? A lump had lodged itself into your throat. “Mando, I—I’m fine. Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure. “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again. You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work. Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin. Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel. The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream. You must have been freezing in that dress.

Your head snapped up at him. “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.

You couldn’t believe this idiot.

“Mando, seriously?” Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him. “I promise you I’m fine, thank you. Really.” You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one. “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind. His lips twitched under the helmet. “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared. “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache. Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child. A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel. The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand. Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit. “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray. I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.” You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you. You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work. Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it. “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged. “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.” You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound. It could have been worse, but it was still very deep. An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk. “You got lucky. Any higher and this would be a lot messier.” You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching. Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position. You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use. The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle. “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake. “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor. It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered. You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat. “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft. He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap. You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh. You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do. And so, you went to work.

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him. “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg. A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips. His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself. In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working. The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle. But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place. Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up. How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out. “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.” Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit. The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand. Regret began to bubble up inside him. He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it. Your next words caught him off guard.

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did. There was no question about it. You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise. He took a steadying breath before answering. “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care. “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up. He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face. “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage. “My name. It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation. He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate. How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear. His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable. Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face. “I like it.”

I do too, he thought. Especially when you say it. “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.” For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile. You were the first to break it.

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again. “No, I… I would protect you every single time. Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine. Instead, you tried to change the subject. “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person. A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips. “You need to teach more Mando’a. Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him. “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din. You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now. It was endearing. The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping. “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors. You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest. May as well be honest.

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.

Din tilted his head, trying to understand. “Why?”

You scoffed. “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”

Din was dumbfounded. Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache. How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy? That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself. Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be. I—you are absolutely stunning. Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh. The front of his pants tightened in reminder. “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.” He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames. “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words. It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now. You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him. Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went. It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone. It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants. Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath. “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears. You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it. “Use your words, cyar’ika. I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din. Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had. The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle. Desperate, but tender. Rough, but passionate and loving. The contrast was making your head spin.

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you? Make you mine?” He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach. He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that? Just like this?” You frantically bobbed your head. “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek. “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core. If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now. But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep. He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut. His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed. Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them. A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg. He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh. “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants. The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck. His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you. “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard. Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair. He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high. You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure. It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.

“Mesh’la,” he commanded. “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself. You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly. He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body. You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher. “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name. He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm. A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow. You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor. “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear. “Just like I said.”

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs. “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured. You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission. “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat. He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you. Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants. You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room. “We’ve got a problem. I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel. “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee. You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing. Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed. “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing. His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #make you mine #certaindark writing #the mandalorian smut #smut #AHHHH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE IT #IDK HOW TO TAG LOL #I’M SO NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS BUT IT’S FINE #din djarin x reader

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splendidly-secret-sick-fics · 4 years

Text

I’m Fine: An AtsuHina sick fic (Part 1)

@wraithpoison said:

an atsuhina sick fic please <3

This is a request from my other blog! I’m sorry it took me so long. Honestly, I had a lot of trouble with this one for some reason? I rewrote it like three times :/ and this one is actually going to be in two parts too! This part isn’t too AtsuHina heavy, but the next part will be.

I’m Fine: an AtsuHina sick fic (part 1)

Part 2

Pairing: Sick Atsumu, caretaker Hinata (also caretakers Rin & Osamu)

Word Count: 2,360

Trigger Warnings: vomiting, swearing, stressed Hinata :(

“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Tsumu,” Shoyo frowned at him through their FaceTime. Unfortunately, the redhead was in an airport, sitting at his gate waiting for his flight and not currently with Atsumu. He had headphones in, but they were picking up all of the noise around him and it made Atsumu’s head pound.

“I know, Sho. Try not to worry so much, alright? Imma big kid now. I can take care of a little fever by myself,” Atsumu responded sleepily. He was curled up in a blanket, lying on their couch.

The Jackals were given about 2 weeks off and Shoyo decided to use that time to go visit some of his friends in Brazil for a week. He invited Atsumu, but the latter declined, saying that he wanted to go home and see his mom.

Atsumu got home last night and Shoyo’s flight was set to arrive tomorrow morning. The plans worked out perfectly so that they’d have a week on their respective vacations and a week together.

While Atsumu was driving home last night, he started feeling lethargic and heavy and just overall Not Good. He brushed it off as exhaustion and went straight to bed when he got back, only to wake up this morning feeling worse. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that he had a fever. The sticky sweat that plastered his clothes to his body despite the chills he felt were a dead giveaway.

Shoyo called him when he got settled at the gate. Atsumu tried valiantly to appear healthy, but after 3 years of dating, Shoyo knew him entirely too well to be fooled. Now he was all anxious and trying to magically make the 24 hour journey from Rio to Tokyo happen in less time.

“I know, but I’m just worried. And I feel bad that I’m not there to help you,” Shoyo pouted. Atsumu rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine, Sho. I’ll see ya tomorrow and you can make me better with all the overdue cuddles I’m owed.”

Shoyo’s lips quirked up ever so slightly and Atsumu felt a little better.

“Did you take something?” Shoyo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Are you staying hydrated?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Did you call Samu and Rin to let them know?”

“I just texted them. They’ll come runnin’ if I need ‘em,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to order you some soup from that one restaurant?”

“What? Sho, no-“

“They’ll deliver! I can do it from here. The airport has wifi and I might have to pay for it but that’s okay and if it means that—“ Shoyo started rambling frantically and Atsumu’s head spun.

“Shoyo, hey. Shut up, will ya?” He chuckled and Shoyo’s mouth snapped shut.

“Sorry, Tsumu. I just wish I was home already,” he looked down. (Atsumu obviously wasn’t with his boyfriend, but if he knew him at all, Shoyo was nervously picking at the hem of his shirt.)

“I know. Me too,” Atsumu replied. Truth be told, he was feeling a lot worse than he let on. At the least, he hoped Shoyo couldn’t tell.

His head felt like it was being squeezed, he was congested, those chills were still pretty prevalent, his body felt like it weighed 1000 pounds and he felt vaguely nauseous.

That’s what he was most afraid of, honestly. He really, really didn’t want to throw up. He’s never liked it; never handled it well. Hopefully he could stave off the nausea, at least until Shoyo got home.

Shoyo looked back up at him and Atsumu wanted more than anything for him to be home right now so he could physically rub away the anxious lines on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured. Shoyo nodded.

“I’m gonna take a nap, okay? Yer flight leaves at midnight yer time right?” Again, Shoyo nodded. Perfect. That meant that he’d be home by noon tomorrow. It was about 10 in the morning in Tokyo (so 10 in the evening in Rio), so Atsumu only had to wait about 26 hours for Shoyo to get home. Hopefully, he’d be sleeping most of that time anyway.

“Okay,” he said, “can ya stop worrying? It’s just a little fever.” Shoyo groaned.

“Fine! Fine. As long as you promise to text your brother if you start feeling worse. Please don’t push yourself, Tsum-Tsum,” Shoyo all but begged. Atsumu gaped at him.

“Me? Overwork myself? I’m offended at the implication, babe” he teased. Shoyo rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m serious, Atsumu. You always push yourself more than you should. Don’t do that this time, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Honestly,” he resituated himself, “I’m prob’ly just gonna take a nap and order take out. I don’t feel much like doing anything anyway,” he shrugged. And oops, he probably shouldn’t have said that. Immediately, Shoyo became more suspicious.

“You? Agreeing to rest? Are you sure it’s just a fever?”

“‘Course!” Atsumu forced a laugh and Shoyo’s eyes narrowed. “Have I ever lied to you, baby?”

“Yes,” Shoyo deadpanned, “all the time.” Atsumu bristled.

“Not about anything important, though! And my health is important,” he assured.

“Atsumu, please take this seriously. Fevers are no joke, okay? I know that all too well,” Shoyo said, a serious look on his face. Atsumu wanted to wash it away. He frowned, remembering nationals his second year of high school, watching Shoyo collapse on the court. They may not have been close yet, but it was scary nonetheless.

“I know. And I promise I am taking care of myself, alright?” he said, no longer trying to joke, but simply reassure. He hated causing Shoyo any sort of anxiety.

“I’m gonna go now, okay?” He said and Shoyo nodded.

“Okay. Alright. Take a nap. Stay hydrated. Text Osamu if you need to. Don’t be all proud,” Shoyo instructed.

“Yes, yes, okay. I love you. Have a safe flight,” he smiled. Shoyo’s face brightened and Atsumu felt slightly reassured that maybe, just maybe, Shoyo wouldn’t spend his entire 24 hour journey home worrying about him.

“I love you, too. See you tomorrow,” Shoyo replied and with that, the call ended.

As soon as Shoyo’s face disappeared from his phone, Atsumu sank into the couch and exhaled exhaustedly. Keeping up the appearance that he felt alright took way more energy than he thought.

He curled up on his side and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself. A nap. That’s what he needed. If he was asleep, he could ignore the headache and the nausea and the chills. And hopefully, when he woke up, he’d feel better.

With that thought, Atsumu went to sleep.

***

Shoyo stared anxiously at the screen that previously had his boyfriend’s pale, flushed face displayed on it. Atsumu was definitely more sick than he let on and Shoyo might punch him later for lying, but for the time being, there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t make his trip home any shorter.

Instead of letting panic take hold, he did the next best thing. He texted Osamu and Rintaro.

From: Shoyo

“Did Atsumu text you guys?”

From: Osamu

“Yeah. Sorry your boyfriend’s an idiot.”

From: Rin

“Samu, while you’re absolutely correct and should say so, maybe not right now.”

“Don’t worry, Sho. Samu is an ass, but he’s worried too. We’re gonna go check on that pig later today.”

Shoyo breathed a huge sigh of relief towards the ceiling. Osamu doesn’t show it, but he does care about his brother. And Shoyo could always count on them.

From: Shoyo

“Thank you guys. Let me know how he’s doing?”

“I just got off FaceTime with him and he was putting up a brave front, but he didn’t look good.”

From: Osamu

“Of course he was. I gotcha, Shoyo. I’ll knock some sense into the big stupid.”

From: Rin

“In other words, yes, we’ll keep you updated and make sure that he’s well taken care of. Don’t stress. Just focus on getting home and leave the time in between to us.”

Shoyo did feel better knowing that Rin and Osamu were so close to Atsumu and could check up on him. He’d be okay. So, for the time being, all he could do was wait.

***

Atsumu woke up to conversation. He squeezed his eyes and shifted around, groaning. Whoever was talking needed to shut up. The tightness in his head hadn’t let up at all and he was absolutely freezing.

“Oh, yer awake. Finally.”

Atsumu scrunched his eyebrows together and blinked his eyes open, only to find his brother and Rin sitting on the love seat next to the couch.

“Samu?” He croaked.

“Yeah. We’re actually here. It’s not some crazy fever induced dream,” he said in his usual monotone.

“More like a nightmare,” Atsumu mumbled. He sat up and the room spun. He moaned and put his face in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” Rin asked him. Atsumu glanced at his phone. It was about two thirty in the afternoon. Twenty one and half hours until Shoyo was home.

“Fine,” he responded, but it was muffled by his hands. “I told you you guys I’d let ya know if I needed ya. Why’re you here?” He looked at them again.

“Shoyo asked us to come.” Rin shrugged.

“‘Course he did,” he sighed.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. Ya look like shit,” Osamu said bluntly and stood up. He left the room, but came back a second later with some soup and a ginger ale.

“Eat. Then take some more meds and then we’ll get outta yer hair.”

Atsumu stared at the soup for a second and his stomach turned itself over. He really didn’t want to put anything in his body right now.

“Did ya poison it?” He tried to disguise the involuntary curl of his lip off as an insult towards his brother.

“Wha—no, you stupid pig, we didn’t poison it.” Osamu almost yelled, his eyebrows furrowing together. In fact, Atsumu was sure that if he wasn’t feeling so awful, his brother would have yelled and smacked him upside the head. But Osamu also happened to know Atsumu entirely too well.

“It’s from some restaurant that Shoyo told us about. He said it was your favorite,” Rin said, his tone quiet. Probably because Osamu knew Atsumu had a headache and warned Rin.

Atsumu felt his chest twist. Shoyo sent them? And told them about his favorite soup? Atsumu wanted to cry.

“Are you crying?” Rin asked, wide eyed. Oh, maybe he was crying. He couldn’t tell, honestly. His face was hot, regardless.

“Ppppfttt,” Osamu held back a laugh.

“Hey! Don’t be an ass. I don’t feel good and I miss my boyfriend,” Atsumu sniffled. “Need I remind ya of the time Rin was gone for a week and ya whined to me about it nightly,” he shot back. Osamu shut up.

“Just eat it,” was all he said. Atsumu must look at lot worse than he thinks because Osamu wasn’t fighting back. He only did that when he knew Atsumu really wasn’t feeling good—physically or mentally.

Staring at the soup, he couldn’t help the twist of his face again.

“Tsumu,” Osamu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does yer stomach hurt?”

Atsumu blushed (or was that his fever?) and shook his head rapidly.

“No! It’s...it’s fine. I’m fine,” he said probably too hastily.

“Don’t lie, please.” Osamu put a hand on his hip and stared Atsumu down. Rin looked between them curiously. Atsumu glared at his brother.

“It’s a little uneasy. But I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Are ya sure you don’t want us to stay with ya until Shoyo gets back?” Osamu asked gently. From the corner of his eye, Atsumu saw Rin’s eyes widen at the abrupt softness coming from Osamu.

Atsumu hesitated. Did he want them to stay? They were offering. It’s not like he was inconveniencing them in any way. Osamu may be a dick, but he was still his brother. And if he was going to puke later, he’d want someone else here. He opened his mouth to say yes please stay I don’t want to be alone, but was cut off by Sunarin.

“Samu, we can’t stay. We promised Akaashi we’d take the twins overnight since they went out of town with Kuroo and Kenma,” Sunarin said. He pulled his lips into a tight line and picked at his fingernails.

Clearly, he didn’t want to leave Atsumu alone. But the Bokuto twins were handfuls at best and nightmares at worst. There was no way that Rin could watch them alone. And Atsumu couldn’t very well go over there and risk getting them sick.

Osamu looked between the two of them and bit his lip.

“Rin, would you mind if—“

“It’s fine, Samu,” Atsumu interrupted. It wasn’t fine.

Osamu’s eyes burned holes into Atsumu’s face. He knew. He knew that Atsumu was nauseas. He knew that Atsumu hated vomiting. Atsumu appreciated it, he did. But he didn’t need his brother to come to his rescue.

“Sho will be home tomorrow morning. It’s fine. I’ll call if I need ya,” he tried to sound confident, but his voice shook. His throat hurt.

Osamu obviously didn’t believe him, the frown on his face and the pull of his eyebrows giving him away. He exhaled through his lips and nodded.

“Okay. But seriously, you can call if ya need to,” he resigned and sat down beside Atsumu on the couch.

Rin and Osamu stayed for a few more hours until they absolutely had to leave. Osamu was still reluctant and it made Atsumu happy when he remembered how much his brother cared, despite the way it looked to outsiders. With another promise to call if he needed to, the two of them left Atsumu alone once more.

He surveyed his body.

Headache? Crushing.

Fever? Scorching.

Body Aches? Heavy.

Nausea? Prevalent.

He moaned and curled tightly in on himself once more. The DVD player under the TV said it was nearly five pm. A little more than 17 hours until Shoyo was home. He could do this. He’d be fine.

***

He was not fine. He was absolutely not fine.

Atsumu heaved into the toilet, gripping the seat tightly. Everything happened so fast. One second he was asleep on the couch and in the next second he was sprinting to the bathroom, just barely making it before projectile vomiting into the toilet.

The room around him swirled and his throat burned with every aborted heave. What time was it? Would Shoyo be home soon? He felt so so terrible. It was so hot. Sweat covered every inch of his body, making it difficult to keep his hold on the toilet. Despite that, he was still trembling. His fever was probably way too high. He should do something about that, right?

His stomach lurched again and he belched wetly, but swallowed down whatever tried to come up. He refused. The loss of control that accompanied throwing up made him feel helpless and horrible and dammit what was that high pitched whine? It cut through his brain like a knife.

Finally, he was granted a reprieve and gasping, he sat back on his heels. He needed to move, needed to do something while he had the time. If he knew his body at all, he knew this was going to be a long fight that he would inevitably lose. It was such a surprise he didn’t have time to prepare. He wiped at his face.

Oh, he was crying. That was probably the whining that still hadn’t stopped. Pathetic.

Okay, it was fine. He could do this. Grabbing onto the sink, he hoisted himself up on unsteady legs.

In the next fifteen minutes, he managed to grab a blanket, a pillow, his phone, some crackers (not that he really wanted to eat them) and one of Shoyo’s nasty fruity sports drinks. The whole endeavor took way longer than it should have, but all of his movements were sluggish and difficult. It also became blatantly obvious that the battle against his stomach was not one he was going to win.

Just the thought of puking more kept a steady flow of tears streaming down his cheeks the entire trip.

Finally, he made it back to the bathroom and set up camp for the night. Smacking the screen of his phone, he checked the time.

“12:27 am” taunted him. Less than 12 hours. Good. He managed to sleep for around 5 hours.

Nausea swirled in his gut and he whimpered. Several unproductive heaves later, he was left reeling.

Somewhere in the haze of his mind, he thought to contact his brother. He couldn’t open his mouth though. No chance. Then he’d for sure puke. Where was Shoyo? He wanted Shoyo.

He picked up his phone in shaking fingers and sent a slew of what he hoped were coherent texts to their group chat with Osamu and Rin. Slowly but surely, he was losing his grasp on his surroundings, the fever messing with his brain.

Help. He needed help. He was scared.

Disgusting gurgles sounded from his stomach and he choked on a sob. He rested a cheek on the toilet seat, and gagged.

“No, no no no,” he cried, but he couldn’t stop it. He was too sick. Too weak. Too tired. Instead of trying to force it back down, he dropped his jaw and burped. Vomit poured out of his mouth and he sobbed between heaves.

When the fit ended, he collapsed onto the floor, gasping and crying. Why was this happening? Where was Shoyo? Why wasn’t his boyfriend here? Did he get tired of Atsumu and leave him? What about Osamu? Was he sick of Atsumu too?

Of course. Of course they were.

Shoyo. He just wanted his boyfriend. Why wasn’t he here? Why why why what did Atsumu do to chase him away?

Those were the last thoughts that plagued Atsumu’s mind before his surroundings faded away completely.

#haikyuu sickfic #sick atsumu #caretaker hinata #vomiting #atsuhina #side pairing sunaosa #suna rintarou #miya osamu #miya atsumu #hinata shoyo #my fic #tw vomit #request

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eatsoaps · 4 years

Text

Husk Sickfic

Paring (Husk x Angel)

Stomach flu/hangover

WARNING FOR VOMIT/PTSD MENTIONS

Sitting alone in the dim lighting of the bar served as small lonely comfort to the reluctant bartender in attendance. The day was slow with him mindlessly shuffling his cards around and nursing several bottles of alcohol while Charlie blabbed about her dreams and how to achieve them with the hotel. Now, everyone had gone to their rooms for the night except him. Zoning in and out with mindless drinking had him only a little tipsy. By two in the morning he had registered that he should probably go to bed as well….. Or just sleep on the bar. Nah, maybe not this time. Whenever he did that he was rudely awoken by Al or someone else with a scolding. He decided that he’d go to his room.

“Fuck!” he hissed when he finally moved. His body cracked every which way from the sudden movement, but that wasn’t the concerning part; he was hurting in his gut. It really hurt and was very sudden. He held his alcohol well and it was now he noted that the pounding headaches usually came after drinking. Trying to shake it off, he went upstairs to his room.

He didn’t care what room he had so long as he could drink; however the sudden twisting in his upper abdomen prevented him from wanting to dive into that random whiskey bottle. Again, trying to shake whatever the feeling was, he crawled into bed and did his best to sleep it off. It normally didn’t take long to get comfortable, hell he never even paid attention to comfort! Tossing and turning was what he was left with tonight, and boy did it puzzle him. Lying on either side gave him an annoying pressure that he couldn’t quite place, on his back only made him feel nauseous while face down just wasn’t comfortable in general and he couldn’t breathe well. Finally, he grew pissed and swung his legs over the bed holding his head in his hands.

“Fuck is wrong in there?” he asked himself. Softly placing a paw over his stomach he ran his claws through the fur on his head. Sitting upright made his guts flip and he let out a pathetic groan. Why was it hurting? He didn’t think he had eaten anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t remember what he ate in all honesty. He just wasn’t hungry. He took a few deep breaths and swallowed a little before lying back down on the bed. Like it did any fucking good. Another 30 minutes of rustling around in his bed he shot up like a bullet and eyed the broken trash can in the corner of the room. He looked away, remembering what a former soldier told him when he went overseas during his human life.

‘If you think about it, it will happen.’

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Fuck it.

He got up and moved to one of the public restrooms down the hall; in not caring about his room, he failed to recognize that Alastor gave him the one without a bathroom. Each step had him sweating and at one point he even needed to stop and take a pause for the sake of not ruining the rug and waking everyone up. He heard a door creak open.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

He immediately straightened himself out and tried to look normal. Footsteps sounded, trying to be as soft as possible. Were those….pink slipper boots? They were, and who better to own them than Angel Dust. Now he really needed to act normal!

“Oh, hey Kitten! What you doing here?” Angel softly purred as he caught eye.

“Minding my own business bitch, take a lesson.”

“Nah that don’t pay well. Wassup? You look like a shit had a shit.”

He rolled his eyes, “Thanks.”Angel cocked his head and stared at Husk, he looked green in the white of his fur and the grey was duller. Was that sweat? “What are you doing up anyway?”

“Well I got the day off tomorrow and I planned on stocking up on some junk food Veggie keeps hidden.”

“Isn’t it Vaggie?”

“Same thing.”

“Whatever just go away.”

Angel huffed, “You’re clearly sick though.”

“No I’m fucking not, just mind your own fucking business for once instead of barging in and ruining everyone!” his stomach clenched which left Husk fighting every muscle in his body from grabbing it and doubling over.

For a brief moment, Angel dropped, but picked right back up. “Come on. Let me help ya. It’s a sad sight right here, kinda funny too.”

“Can’t you take no for an answer? I thought whores understood rejection?”

Okay, that stung a little. “Did you drink perfume or some shit?

“Why don’t-” Husk took a pause, his stomach was churning. It hurt and he felt the acid creep up his throat. He could swallow only so much. “-you...fuck.”

“Husk?” Angel had a soft spot for the cat, he was hot and gave him drinks! He also knew what it was like to be under an overlord. They had talked about it one night. “Hey man you good?” Angel’s voice was like water: garbled and incoherent. Husk lurched and clasped a hand over his mouth. He pushed Angel away and dashed to the bathroom. Tossing a stall door open, he crashed to the ground and began to heave. The stomach inside him contracted, but after his second unproductive heave did he finally manage to bring something up. He coughed and spat out more of whatever had caused this. He slightly jumped when he felt a soft pair of hands rub up and down his back, another set massaging his wings that tensed up every time he puked or gagged, the last set of Angel’s arms kept his ears back while rubbing the nape. He didn’t even have the energy to push him away.

“There ya go kitten. Easy.” Angel softly soothed. Husk gagged and brought up more vomit into the toilet, coughing and sputtering. He thought his head was about to burst, the throb was so painful. Another wave of vomit, this time with tears mixing in. He spat the remainder into the bowl.

“Ugh, fuck.” he grit his teeth and tried to even his ragged breathing. An arm draped across the toilet, one was positioned carefully on his stomach. He had forgotten what it felt like to be so sick, the last time was when he had food poisoning in a camp somewhere. He had also forgotten that this was literal HELL. In hell, everything bad was doubled. Broken leg meant worse pain and longer heal. Stabbed? Well you’d heal faster but it would still hurt like no other. And sick? Well if anyone got sick in Hell it lasted longer than it would a breathing human. Part of punishment. Husk reached up to flush the contents down and placed his head on the cool toilet lid.

“Are you done kitten?”

“...Yeah.”

All that strain made Husk lethargic and apathetic. He no longer cared about what happened, that was fucking horrible. He just wanted the bad feelings gone.

“Come on.”

Angel helped Husk stand on his feet and had him rinse his mouth out in the sink as quickly as possible. They left the bathroom and went further down the hall.

“Where am I going?” Husk asked.

“My room.”

Husk tried to push Angel away, “Why?”

“It has a bathroom inside, your’s don’t. You also can’t spend all night in a public bathroom. Plus you can barely stand as it is. Don’t act as if Charlie wouldn’t have my head for not doing a thing.”

Husk wanted to throw Angel onto the ground and run back to his room so he could curl up and die again alone. Nah. That wasn’t going to happen and he knew it, the muscles and energy had all gone into making him feel like shit and left him walking on a tightrope with a tilting wheel above him. When the two arrived in the room, Husk wasn’t all surprised by the look of it. A stripper pole, soft furniture, different shades of pink and black, of course a vanity covered with makeup and a shelf of sex toys. He rolled his eyes.

“Mention this to anyone and you can kiss all the booze in the world goodbye you fucking pest.”

“Daw~ for me only Husky? Don’t mention it. I’ll tell Cha you’re sick and too drunk to tell whose room is whose. I’ll say I tried to throw ya out but you wouldn’t budge. Sound good?”

Husk had crawled onto Angel’s bedsheets, mmm…. warm and soft. He didn’t even reply to whatever the spider said, the sheets and mattress felt amazing, he started to purr and it was only when he caught Angel smiling down at him did he realize the situation. Shit! What the fuck am I doing? He made a sorry attempt to get out of the bed, he knew the slut would talk and he’d be humiliated. He didn’t want things to be worse than they already were. Quickly jumping off the bed made him double over in pain as a giant cramp rolled through his abdomen.

“Hey, watch yourself. I ain’t gonna tell anyone, I learned from Pa that snitches get ditches at five years old.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe when you’re better. Let’s go, come on! Back to bed kitten.” Angel guided Husk back into the bed, he noticed that his gut looked tense, he could practically see the muscles cramped up through the fur. “Jesus you’re tense.”

“I know. Now shut up. Why’re you even helping me dumbass?”

“You remind me a lot of my sis when she’d get sick. I’d always be the caretaker and she’d be mine. She’d fight me tooth and nail until I gave her something comfortable, then she’d melt like Mama’s garlic butter. Just a nice nostalgia feeling I guess. Besides, maybe you’ll owe me?” he ended with a tease of course, but after a warning glare from Husk, he backed down. “I’m kidding! Jeez! Here, just get on the bed, I’ll even rest away from ya.”

The bed felt amazing and warm, and it didn’t smell horrible in this room either. Angel had even been so kind as to place a bucket right next to him in case his stomach decided to abuse him again. Zoning back in, he realized that Angel had gotten into the bed and put considerable distance between them. Another cramp seized Husk’s body and he curled in harder on himself. He felt a gag coming on and groaned when he had to drag the bucket closer to his face.

Angel glanced over at the bartender and felt a pang of sympathy. He placed a hand over Husk’s back and tried to massage the muscles that were bulging out. Thankfully they did relax as Husk threw up again into the can. He felt a lot warmer than normal? Angel had no idea what the temperature for a cat was let alone a demonic one. He could only guess it was a fever high enough to cause discomfort. After throwing up the remainder of vomit from his mouth, Husk rinsed with the warm bottle of water Angel had sitting next to him (unopened) and then plopped back down on the bed softly panting. The spider stopped rubbing his back in order to take care of the bucket; the cat needed to bite back a whimper from the loss of comfort while the cramping came back. He felt ashamed when he let pained moans come from his throat when he wrapped his paws around his middle.

“Think ya got a stomach bug which means you got about four days until it’s gone.”

“Cool.”

“Molly liked it when I rubbed her back or stomach.”

Husk rattled as a shiver blew past him. Angel pulled the covers over his body. “Don’t fucking try anything or I’ll poison your drinks.”

“Please, a whore may know a lot about rejection, but they know more about consent and roofies.”

“Smartass.”

Angel shifted to where one set of hands massaged the back and only one hand went over Husk’s stomach, the other was used to scroll through his phone. Within minutes, the cat was out like a light and purring louder than a racecar. Angel smiled and snuck a picture or eight. When he started to feel a little drowsy, he noticed that Husk had moved in a way that made it to where Angel was basically holding him sideways. CUTE! A few more pictures saved onto his phone and he was set to sleep. His rest may have only lasted an hour or two since he was woken up by Husk bolting up to vomit. The cycle was repeated until there was literally nothing in his stomach. Angel continued to rub his stomach.

Come morning, Husk awoke to the sound of rustling. “Fuck is that?” he mumbled.

“Sorry babe! Just gotta get Fat Nuggets some food and then a walk, it’ll be thirty minutes. Charlie knows about the story I told her last night.”

“Fuck you what did you tell her!” Husk reared up with his wings fluffed up and defensive mode on. If only he looked as threatening; truth be told it looked more like a tiny kitten was trying to roar like a lion. Angel couldn’t help but laugh.

“Relax, I told her you got sick last night and were too drunk to notice you were in the wrong room. I told her moving you wasn’t an option and said you tried to claw my normal eye out. She said she’d give you the next three days off and sent up some ‘get well’ shit.” he gestured over to the nightstand next to the cat. Placed on the tray was a set of medications that would barely do anything, but it was better than nothing. After vomiting all night, the waters she gave him looked amazing.

“Hmm.”

“Do you wanna try to eat?” Angel asked.

A baby gag, “Ugh fuck that.”

Angel walked over and placed a hand on Husk’s forehead, almost astounded that he didn’t wack him back. “Definitely certain you got a rising fever.”

“In Hell, wow.”

“Shut up.”

Most of the day was nothing new. Charlie put Angel on caretaker duty (much to Vaggie’s concern) just to make things easier. Hopefully. It gave Angel bonus points, Husk got taken care of, Angel out of the way, the place would be quiet. In honesty, while Husk reminded him a lot of his sister when she was feeling down, he also wanted a chance to get closer to the cat. He was curious and also bored. Kinda wanted something to do. Being a sex worker meant that he had to care and cater to whatever the clients wanted, this time it was for something nonsexual. Sure he enjoyed sex, but it was nice to do something other than it. His day off would otherwise be spent wandering around and getting into trouble. Not looking to get chewed out was his aim.

“Shit babe how do you still have something inside you?”

“I’m not *huurk* babe you himbo.” Husk retorted with a pathetic spit. “Fuck. This is worse than when the boat was on the sea towards the battle….”

“Battle? What battle?”

PTSD WAR FLASHBACK TW

Whether it was the increased fever or what, Husk had no idea, but he had seen this many times before. Back in the war, not knowing which battle. He was instructed to shoot whatever came that wasn’t wearing US Military garb. A rustle among the trees, he turned, saw uncovered skin and lanky build. They were carrying something. A bomb? He shot at them straight in the head and they fell. Crying could be heard, but the person was dead, he went to inspect whatever was the sound and his heart dropped when he saw it was a toddler. The child ran towards him and then fell over as a fellow soldier shot them down. He turned and threw up right there, crying and praying it wasn’t real and apologizing over and over.

PTSD WAR FLASHBACK TW OVER

“Husk, hey, it isn’t real. Whatever you seein’ ain’t real. It ain’t real right now.”

Husk snapped his head back at Angel hyperventilating with wide eyes and then quickly bent over the fresh bucket that was being held in front of him. He gagged and spit and heaved and threw up whatever left he could. All the medicine, water, one single bite of toast was all gone; even then he still tried to bring up something until he was reduced to dry heaving.

“Hey now, in and out. Breath in, then out. There ya go. Va bene (it’s okay in Italian).”

It took a while, but Husk was back on track, the fever had definitely spiked and now he was experiencing shellshock again. “-ter.”

“Huh?”

“Wa-er.”

His throat had been puked raw by the acid he could barely speak, but Angel managed to understand what he said and gave him an uncapped water bottle which he gratefully gulped down.

“Hey go slow or you’ll-” the water didn’t stay in his stomach, “- puke it back up. Baby sips.”

By the time the bucket was cleaned out, Husk was cared for and Angel got him as comfy as he could, he noticed that the cat was clingy when he was sick. Angel was the big spoon whether Husk knew or not. Belly rubs and back massages felt great after the whole ordeal. Unfortunately, he had three more PTSD episodes after that.

***

“I gotta go to work or Val’ll have my head!” Angel sighed, trying to pull his many limbs out of the cat’s grip.

“No.”

“Husk.”

“No.”

Husk had reached his peak in the fever and acted like a kitten starved for attention. Angel knew sick clingy people made some of the best and worst patients depending on the situation. Eventually, the spider managed to pry the other off and set on for work where he spent the day modeling and having only one film session with a guy that loved being stepped on. He managed to avoid any conflict with the film crew and Val, so he finally left early with an abundance of praise. Quick and easy! Once he was back in the hotel, he went straight to his room where he found Husk sleeping bent over an empty bucket with fresh tear tracks along his matted fur lines. Angel gently shook him awake.

“Rise and shine moonpie! Get your head out of the bucket.”

Husk blinked up at the spider and turned away into the blankets. “Not now.”

“Well you can either lay your head in a horrible position that is sure to rattle yer neck to bits and pieces or you can-”

“Angel. I-....Can-” Husk was really struggling with what he was about to say next. “Can you…. rub my head a little?” he asked shyly.

Faster than a bullet, Angel was right there getting to pet the cat, he was amazed at how soft the fur was. Of course it was to make him feel better. “Think you’re stomach wants to stay inside ya?”

“Shh.”

“Okay babe.”

Husk did not throw up anymore after that night; by the time the four days were over, he pushed Angel away and got himself sorted out. He hated to admit that the spider was a good caretaker, and he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t comfy (sometimes) during the stay in Angel’s room. Once he was back working the bar, he handed Angel a free drink.

“Here.”

“Oh really Husk! Thank you!”

“Shut up.”

Angel winked at him and understood. The drink was a thank you, and he was happy to oblige. The two carried on a calmer setting around each other now. Husk still grumpy as could be, but with more sarcasm towards Angel rather than pure annoyance 100% of the time.

Oh my Lord you can tell where I gave up trying to write good. My brain was absolutely dead. But I've noticed there's a lack of sickfics in this fandom so I'm deciding to fix that as best I can. I haven't written in a long time so I am sooooo rusty. Oh well. ❤️❤️

#sick whump #hazbin hotel husk sick #angel dust hazbin hotel #vaggie #husk sick #charlie hazbin hotel #mollydust #fat nugs #fat nuggets #angelhusk #hazbin angel dust #huskerdust #ptsd #vomiting #male vomiting

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

I´ll stay where I belong

Had an idea while writing another WIP and it derailed. Sorry I don´t control what my brain does anymore, so here. For the @badthingshappenbingo my prompt was “Nervous breakdown” Also, for @whumptober2020 day 2 and 3 “collars and manhandled”

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker @boxboysandotherwhump @unicornscott

CW// Slavery, dehumanization, pet whump, conditioning, fucky headspace regarding self views, nightmares, implied hanging, manhandling, creepy comfort, a very blurry line between caretaking and whumping, implied ablism and negative views about stimming. Ask to tag and stay safe!

Albus was walking in the darkness of a place he hadn’t seen in his life, but knew like the back of his hand. He was dressed in white shorts and white shirt, just like his trainee uniform. Despite the usual lightness in his feet he could hear every step loud and clear, until he was suddenly sat in the middle of what looked like a library. Old books piled up on the ground all around the place. Stacked in shelves that reached the ceiling and beyond. He stared at the ground, where a compass was engraved on it, overlapping a constellation map.

Albus looked up when he heard the tingling bells of a jester hat. He blinked at the sight of a white jester with an annoying smile on its mask standing next to a wheel. He frowned. Turned his eyes at the engraved faces on each of the eight sides the red arrow could fall on.

They looked familiar.

“Sann..? And Ma’am?…what-“ he saw Tony and Sasha and Cloude, even Robert, but didn’t know who the other people were. Next to Sann and Jeremy, there was a little girl and an albino woman. On the other side next to Cloude, there was another unrecognized face.

To his surprise the jester spinned the wheel.

It fell on the albino woman. Then on the little girl. Then on all the others he knew. All the time giving him a pity glance and shaking his head. Irritatation was starting to set in, when at last, it fell on Sann.

Albus jumped at the pity head shake. Or tried to, but another jester shoved him back to his seat with a heavy hand on his shoulders. The other jester swinged a finger in front of his face and clicked his tongue like reprimanding a noisy kid.

“So unlucky. The wheel of fortune won’t spin on your favor” they said in a voice that sent shivers down his spine and felt wondering fingers crawling up. As if it could summon hands to touch the skin on his back “Albus” the boy took a shuddering breath “You may be lucky with how and not The Who”

In a puff, the wheel changed the faces for…punishments. Real punishments like at the facility. No, even worse. His breathing quickened when in another puff a version with a slightly blurry face of the girl appeared out of nowhere, followed by a white clown with red eyes.

“No…No, wait!” he whispered seeing the clown reaching towards the wheel. “No!” He yelled jumping up.

“That’s, right, No” the jester put his hands over his shoulders and slammed him down on the chair “Don’t move” he told him, voice suddenly way too deep. Albus whined in frustation. But a long finger passed over his mouth “hush, don’t speak. Do either and everyone will hit the jackpot!”

Albus eyes widened and his chest heaved in hurried breaths. His shoulders twisted to let a rope wrap his wrists together behind him. He wanted to cry out, having a bad feeling about the wheel and how the girl stared at it almost excitedly, but it was zipped tight. He could only let out muffled whimpers as he saw the wheel finally stop on the knot symbol.

He thrashed, but the jester manhandled him to keep him on the chair effortlessly. Almost enjoying seeing him struggle until he settled on letting him slam himself against the hard wood. He screamed when a foot held him thete. Twisting in the ground, he saw the clown getting out the rope, seeing it make funny shapes with it to the girl’s amused laughter.

Then blurry versions of every face came from the halls made of shelves. All eight of them had a white jester with one hand on their shoulder pushing them forward and the other on a rope. As if they were performing a dance, the clowns moved in perfect sync, pulled the tied up ropes on their necks, their faces smiling wide despite how tight they were on their necks.

Albus futile attempts to move or scream did nothing.

It was the sound of one final raspy stretch of the rope, one last tweak of a knot and a dry, cut short sound that woke him wide eyed.

He was sweating and holding his pillow tight. Too afraid to see the library, he didn’t uncurl his fingers off it until he saw Sann peacefully sleeping next to him. His broad back was there, but his own heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to run away from his chest to check itself. Even in the safety of his bed, feeling his loosened up collar around his neck and feeling Sann’s radiator body next to him, he felt unsafe. Watched from the shadows.

He let go of the pillow and straightened up to cup Sann’s face, searching for some awareness on the half open eyes, but he was in the fifth dream and very far from waking up. He was tired from having nightmares too and Albus would take the only chance he had had this last weeks from resting? No, no.

Albus let him go immediately then. Swung his feet over the bed and pressed his hands to his face. Trying to calm the thundering beating of his heart as his knee bounced shockingly fast. He heard Sann groan at the bed’s movement.

“Al?” The boy half signed in his sleep. The easy gesture of white was barely understandable in the dark.

“Shh, shh. It’s ok,” Albus said pulling the sheets to cover Sann up to his neck, tucking in his left arm below too “It’s fine, go back to sleep” he whispered to Sann’s little purr when he squeezed his shoulder slightly and stood up to walk to the door.

He was trembling on the hall for a while.

Hadn’t bothered taking his glasses, so he stood there in the middle of the house with shifty shadows that twisted into something more macabre. Sometimes he could swear he could see handler Harry in the corner, hear his voice threatening to cane his hands if he dared keep going with his annoying nervous rubbing and rounding thumbs.

Running from him and the shadows, he suddenly found himself curling next to Zarai’s bed. In the corner where night stand and mattress touched.

His cheeks flared up in shame. What was he? A kid who had a nightmare and had ran to his parents bed? He flinched hearing the slam of a cane against a gloved hand.

That’s not what a pet should do. You know better than that ‘900, c’mon. She’s your owner. You shouldn’t be a nuisance to your kind Master that lets you sleep on your own bed in your own room without making sure you stay there, now do you?

He shook his head to the voice’s pleased hum.

It’s almost like you want to be punished. So cute. Now-

“Albus?” The woman whispered right when he stood up, his cheeks burnt so much tears threatened to roll down. She stretched to light on the lamp on her nightstand, seeing at the click, a sweaty terrified boy kneeling next to her. “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Albus opened and closed his mouth many times, but nothing came out. How could he even explain? He almost jumped away blurting out all sort of apologies when he heard her sigh and set her hand over his head. It was almost instinctively that he leaned on it with closed eyes. When it slipped down his cheek, Albus Held her hand with both his own with a sniff.

“Come here” she said moving to Cloude’s side. The man was gone for the weekend for a business trip, so there was plenty of space for him to crawl up and pull his knees to his chest. Feeling Zarai’s hand brush his back up and down, slowly smothering down the violent trembling.

“I-I-I´m sorry, ma’am” he whispered with his face hidden between his arms. The hand stuttered, but continued brushing his back and settled on his head.

“Its ok” The motion was so constant and warm, he could believe she meant it. “What is it? Can you tell me?”

He weighted the possibility of being honest for a second, but decided against it at the last second. Switched to other matters.

“What happens when I stop being good enough for you ma’am?” he said despite himself, lifting his head to watch her reaction. Calm and collected was what Zarai always appeared to be. Even in the middle of the night with an anxious pet on her bed pleading for comfort, she would give this air of composure Albus could actually feel comforted with. She dragged a long breath in.

“We will see why and work it out so you can do better” she slowly set a hand on the back of his head, right where the scar was, then pulled him closer to her chest forcing his body to follow the motion into a hug.

“No…no punishments?” He stuttered looking up to read her.

“No punishments” she sighed out long.

He shifted on her arms, finding her unexpectedly warm and comfortable. He closed his eyes and tried to relax a second. The rhythm of her heart was so absorbing as well, he stayed quiet just to hear it a bit longer, but questions lingered in his mind, searching to be answered. It was odd timing and he was being so bold, yet he needed to hear it. He desperately needed that reassurance.

“You won’t send me back when I stop being useful to you?”

A long silence stood, that the longer it lasted, the more he was aware his owner could have him wrapped around her arms one night and the next he could be back under handler Harry’s baton.

Yet when he was about to let the tears welling on his eyes roll down, she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.

“We said no punishments, Albus” She said carefully “Not ever”

The albino boy couldn´t help but lean into her embrace. Worries fled his body so fast his body was left exhausted at the release of tension. She gently laid his head on her lap and he was almost sure he could sleep right there and then and the nightmare wouldn´t continue. He tried to do that.

Not ever sounded like such a long time. It had been voiced like an immutable law too, yet, laws had clauses.

When his mind was slipping back to a dream laid out on her lap like that, she spoke. Wrongly assuming he was already asleep.

“Until I decide when, you will walk behind me, right next to me, wasn´t it?” She said with intentions he couldn´t name, yet understood when her fingers brushed against his collar.

What was the feeling he felt while laid out on her lap while she gently brushed his hair? What was it indeed, what he felt when he stayed wrapped in her arms for a while, before he went back to sleep next to Sann? What would he reply to Sann’s worried face in the morning, when he asked him what was wrong, why was he crying? Why did he felt a warmth on his chest that couldn’t suit either anger nor adoration?

The taciturn look he would have on his eyes when the fog WRU Installed on his brain took over when he spoke again would reply for him.

That’s right. Who I belong to is safe. The handler’s voice…no. His own voice said inside his head.

“And I’ll stay where I belong”

#writing #whump #bbu #box boy #pet whump #you came back a stranger #tw slavery #tw dehumanization #albus #robert

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idkwriteshitdown · 4 years

Text

Somebody’s Gotta Take Care of the Riff Raff

Summary: Al doesn’t remember signing up for being a caretaker, but he’s not going to stop his job.

Or Al finds Diego on the street one night and helps him out.

Words: 2906

(ao3 link)

---

Al lit his cigarette and took a drag. He leaned against the brick wall and slowly exhaled watching the smoke disappear into the night. The neon light of the pub’s sign flickered above his head. Inside he could hear the drunken clamor of the patrons.

“Got a light?”

Al turned to see the speaker. “Oh hey Donny.” He fished in his pocket for the lighter. “Yeah I got one for you.”

“Thanks,” Donny said cigarette hanging out his mouth. He brought the lighter to his mouth puffing a few times. “Catch the game?” He asked.

“It was bullshit.” Al grumbled. “That ref had no idea what he was doing. I don’t know who they’re hiring for this shit.”

“I know,” Donny exclaimed. “And the players aren’t much better either. Yeah sure we got some gems thrown in here or there, but the rest. They’re weak.”

“They found out how to game the system. They lost the feeling that it used to have.”

A raindrop fell in between the two of them. Donny pulled the hood of his jacket over his head while Al stepped further underneath the awning of the building. They watched as a group of young men stumbled out of the pub. They weren’t dressed for the cooling weather. Only one wore a hat while the others had on a mix of shorts and light jackets. They garnered looks from passerby’s as they laughed loudly walking down the street.

“So what’s this I hear about your gym being closed?”

“Oh that?” Al flicked ashes off the end of his cigarette. “The pipes fuckin’ burst. Flooded the damn place. The whole floor is ruined.”

“That’s rough,”

“Eh. It was due for a remodel anyway. But the whole thing is gonna be closed until it’s done.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not that big of a loss.”

“Hey Al” Donny hit Al on the shoulder. “Isn’t that your boy over there?”

Al looked to where his friend was pointing. The group that had exited the pub earlier had stopped underneath a light post and were taking turns shoving a man around laughing. They were mocking him, jumping out of the way when he turned to attack whoever was closest. The rain had picked up into a light drizzle.

The two watched as one member of the group, a man wearing a white jacket, took the guy's duffel from him and started going through it.

There was a brief reflection of light as the man lifted an object from within the guys bag. “Hey this fucker’s got a knife.” He shouted.

“Ah hell it is my guy” Al swore. He ground out his cigarette on wall behind him and threw it on the ground. He ran over to the group. “Break it up. Break it up.”

“Stay out of it old man.” The one with the hat said walking towards him. “This ain’t your problem.”

“Yeah well I’m making it my problem. Scram before I call the cops.” He reached past the guy and grabbed Diego by the collar of his shirt pulling him out of the group. There was a sudden clap of thunder and the sky opened up raining down on them.

“Fuck it’s not worth it.” The guy in the white hoodie said. “Let’s go.” He swung Diego’s duffel over his shoulder running off, the others following him.

Al turned to face Diego. He looked worn out. He starred in the direction the group ran in. “They took my bag.” he said dejectedly.

Al sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Why couldn't the kid just take care of himself. He put his arm around Diego's shoulder. It was a true testament of how tired he was that he didn't tense or flinch like he always did when someone touched him unexpectedly. "Let's get out the rain. I’ll take you home." He led Diego towards the pub, giving a nod to Donny as they walked in.

Al called a car and rode with Diego to the Umbrella Academy. It was a quiet ride. A soft jazz melody drifted back from the radio and the dark interior was lighted briefly by the passing street lights. Al took this time to observe Diego. The kid looked tired. He was wearing the same clothes that he wore when the gym closed two days before. He was pressed against the side of the door looking out at the passing street. He was trying to stay awake but the warm hum of the car was doing its job in lulling him to sleep.

When they arrived, Al almost felt sorry about having to wake him up. He reached out to shake Diego's shoulder. The boy jolted up eyes wide, looking around frantically. His eyes looked out past him and locked on to the building they stopped in front of. His face shifted into horror. He pressed his back against the door drawing his knees to his chest. Al could see him trying to speak but the words didn't come. "P-p-please," he forced out.

"Hey is he ok?" The driver asked.

"Yeah just give me a minute" he growled. He turned towards Diego. "Hey now, hey now. Calm down. "

Letting out soft curses at the size of the car Al awkwardly lowered himself to kneel at the bottom of the floor making himself smaller to the frightened man. He had no idea what set off this attack, but he was pretty well versed in calming him down. He rested a hand on the seat and looked up at Diego. The other man had squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to grip tightly at his long hair. He was rocking slightly.

"Diego buddy. I need you to look at me," Al said lightly. "Can you look at me?" He waited patiently as Diego slowly cracked upon his eyes to look at him.

"That's a good boy," he praised "I'm going to hold your hand. Can you give me your hand?" Making sure to telegraph every movement Al reached for Diego's hand. He watched as Diego's eyes followed his motion. Grabbing on to his hand he carefully massaged it encouraging him to loosen his grip on his hair.

"I'm going to bring it to my chest ok?" Just as before he very slowly brought both their hands to rest on his chest. It was an awkward position. Diego had to lean forward in order to reach and he had to puff out his chest so that they could touch.

He took a couple of exaggerated breaths. "Can you follow my breathing? In." He took a deep breath in. "And out" he let out a gust of air. "Do it with me." He breathed a couple of more times before Diego started to try to match his own erratic breathing with his. "That's a good boy," Al praised. The two of them sat breathing together.

A minute or so passed in silence. Only the sound of them breathing and the rain hitting the roof of the car was heard. Al gave a silent groan thinking about how expensive this ride would end up being. Not for the first time he wondered how Diego became this way. He opened his mouth to ask a question when Diego yanked his hand from his hold.

Al closed his mouth and studied the man before him. He had shifted so that he wasn’t curled against the corner but he still held his hand close to his chest. His face was red with embarrassment and his head was turned to face the seat in front of him but Al could see him looking warily out of the corner of his eye.

“You back with us bud?” He asked. A barely perceptible nod was his only response. “You want to tell me what that was about?” There was silence as Diego stared resolutely ahead.

Al sighed. He knew that Diego often lapsed into moments where he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, speak and it seems like now was one of those moments. He shifted trying to will feeling back into his legs. Time for 20 questions. He racked his head as to what could’ve set this panic attack off. He stretched and caught the reflection of the mansion that was behind him. Bingo.

“Was it the house?” he asked.

Nod.

“You don’t want to go in there?”

Nod.

Al frowned. “Is someone going to hurt you there?”

Pause. Head shake.

Al let out a breath of relief. There was not much that would scare Diego this badly, and call him selfish but he was glad he didn’t have to face it. Unfortunately now that he knew there was no danger in the house he didn’t know what questions to ask to find out why he didn’t want to go in the house. He changed tactics.

“Do you want to stay at my place?” He asked. Diego had only lived with him a couple of times before taking up residency in the gym itself. When he found out that the skinny, bag-o-bones, gym rat he hired was homeless he couldn’t in good conscience let him continue to sleep on the mats. He made him move in with him while they remodeled the boiler room to resemble something of a sleeping place.

Diego shook his head. Al pinched his brow. “Kid I’m not going to let you sleep on the streets for the next three days. It’s bad enough you already spent one night out there.”

Diego brought a finger up to his mouth and started chewing on it. It was tick that Al noticed he did when he was feeling a certain kind of nervous. He doubted the kid even realized he did it.

“Look. Here’s how it’s going to go down. I’ll walk you to the door. If even the smallest thing happens that you don’t like let me know and we’ll leave. No questions asked.” He paused making sure the weight of his words set in. “But. But if we do leave you’re going to come home with me and you’re going to stay there. No sneaking out. Got it?”

Diego gave a slight nod. Al smiled. Sometimes the kid needed someone to tell him explicitly what to do. Opening the car door he got out and waited for the other to do the same. The rain had died down to a light sprinkle. He reached out and put a hand on Diego’s shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze when he tensed up. Lightly he pushed him walking down the path to the front door.

They stood in front of the door. When Diego made no move to open the door Al reached out to do it himself. It was locked. He thumped his head a couple of times against the door. “Of course it’s locked.” he grumbled. “You don’t happen to have a spare key do you.” Diego didn’t respond, only looked at him blankly hugging himself.

Al was about to leave when locks started clicking from behind the door. It swung open to reveal a boy. They stared blankly at each other.

“You know usually someone would introduce themselves after knocking on a door at 2 in the morning.” He said. His voice was full of the superiority and confidence of someone who thought they were better than everyone and knew it too. The boy's eyes shifted to the man beside him. “I see you have brought my brother.”

Al looked between them. “That’s your brother?” he asked incredulously

Diego shivered. “Five.” he said.

Al sighed. He’s certainly seen stranger being around him. He looked back at the boy, Five. “May we come inside?”

Five stepped aside extending his arm. “Be my guest.” He closed the door after them “Can I offer you a drink.” He asked.

“I’d rather not.” He said. Besides, the kid looked way too young to drink. “I’m just trying to make sure this one get’s home safely.” he tilted his head towards Diego. Diego himself stood quietly, arms wrapped around him as he steadily dripped water on to the floor. His breathing was slightly more erratic as he gazed firmly at his feet.

“He doesn’t seem hurt?” Al could see that while the boy put off an air of disinterest he seemed to genuinely care about the state of his brother.

“Not physically.” Al said. “He just needs to sleep.”

Five nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “I can show you his room if you want to follow me.” He started towards the stairs. Al gently took Diego by the elbow and followed him.

“Who are you to him.” Five asked after a moment of silence. “He obviously trusts you a lot if he’s letting you see him like this.” Then quieter under his breath “I’ve never seen him like this.”

Al stayed quiet. Truthfully he didn’t know how to answer. Their relationship obviously strayed far beyond the typical boss employee relationship. He’d almost say he’d treat Diego like a son, though that wasn’t quite right as he had kids of his own who he didn’t raise to be as much trouble as this one caused him. He didn’t know what Diego thought of him either. Five’s assessment of Diego trusting him came as a shock, because while it had taken him years to slowly break down his walls he knew that he still had a lot of progress to make. In the end he chose the most neutral description of their relationship.

“I own the gym he lives in.” He said.

Five hummed. They stopped in front of a door. “This is his room.” He said. He shuffled, looking for once unsure of himself. “I could get you a towel or…” he trailed off.

“A towel would be nice thank you. And a change of clothes. I don’t know if he would have any here.” He gave a reassuring smile to the kid before ushering his own into the room.

It was clear that this room hadn’t been lived in since he left. It wasn’t dirty or dusty like one would expect, but it was dated. A twin sized bed sat against the wall. It still had the childish sheets of his youth. On the desk sat a stack of papers and some textbooks.

Faster than what was humanly possible the kid returned holding a towel and a stack of folded clothes. “The clothes may be a little big. It’s our other brothers he explained.” He looked past him to Diego who was still standing in the middle of the room. “If you need anything I’ll be down stairs.” He turned and left.

Al turned back to Diego. He pulled out the chair pushing Diego on to it. Tossing the towel at him he bent down to start taking off his shoes. “This is as much as I’m going to do for you.” He grumbled undoing the laces. “You’re going to have to get changed by yourself.”

After removing each shoe he pushed himself to his feet and cracked his back. “Not as young as I used to be.” He muttered. “Go change.” He turned away from Diego. “Let me know when you’re done.”

While waiting he took the chance to further inspect the room. He opened the closet door to find it empty of clothes. It was to be expected. On the ground, however, there were a couple of boxes, belongings that either he, or someone else, couldn’t throw away.

“D-done,” Diego said softly. Al turned around. Five wasn’t kidding when he said that the clothes were big. The shirt hung off him reaching low to hit mid thighs. He was gripping the waistband of his pants in a fist and they were still pooling at his feet.

“Come here” here he beckoned. “Lift your shirt up.” He moved Diego’s hands from his pants and tightened the drawstring as tight as it could go before tying it up in a bow. Satisfied that the pants wouldn’t drop at a moments notice he led Diego over to the twin bed before pushing him down on it. “Under the covers.”

“D-d-ont’ need to be … tucked in” He slurred getting under the covers.

“Yeah yeah. Just making sure you don’t do anything stupid like try to leave.” He sat on the edge of the bed pulling out his phone. “Go to sleep.”

“Creep,” Diego said.

“Brat.”

He stayed long enough to hear Diego’s breathing even out into the tell tale signs of sleep. Then he stayed a little longer to make sure he wasn’t faking it. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon he got up and made his way down the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the boy waiting for him.

“You’re leaving.” He said.

Al nodded. The kid was a strange one for sure.

“I have a ride waiting.”

“Your ride is gone.”

He looked out the window and sure enough where there used to be a car waiting there was nothing. He let out a huff of amusement. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”

Five poured him a glass “Stay the night. Leave in the morning.”

He shook his head. “I’ll just call another ride” He took out his phone. “Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Five shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He raised his glass towards him. “Thanks for watching out for my brother.”

He raised his in return. “Someone has to.”

#tua #Al (Umbrella Academy)#fanfic #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Worked Themselves to Exhaustion

Heeeey, @badthingshappenbingo is finally underway! @burtlederp asked for Worked Themselves to Exhaustion with Ryan as our POV/Main, so here it is!

Bloodstains = requested, puppy sticker = completed

This is set post-rescue and post-trial. Tagging the crew: @spiffythespook, @bleeding-demon-teeth, and @special-spicy-chicken!

CW: Very little, actually! Some references to parental abuse and implied/references past assault/violence, but mostly this is just Ryan being Ryan

Ryan woke up with a start to discover he’d fallen asleep sitting at the kitchen table, forehead resting on one arm and the other simply hanging loose down at his side.

He still had the mug of coffee he’d been drinking sitting next to him, his fingers loosely curved around the handle. He dragged his free hand up and over to find the ceramic had totally cooled, the coffee no doubt cold and stale inside.

He blinked, lifting his head slowly, wincing at the crick of pain in his neck. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? His phone was buzzing on the table next to him and he blinked, blearily looking over at it. Must've been what woke him. Fuck, was it really 9:45 already?

When he saw ‘MOM’ and the photo he’d set of he and Corrine at the beach a couple of years ago lighting up the screen, he groaned, hit the button to silence it, and let his head drop back to the table.

He was so fucking tired and he did not have the energy to deal with his mother right now. Maybe not ever again, not where Danny was concerned.

She would tell him to get an aide, she was always telling him to get an aide. Move out (you can move right back in the house with Dad and I until you find a place, no reason to linger there wasting your twenties), leave him and Vandrum with a full-time home health care aide.

You shouldn’t feel obligated to take care of him, Ryan.

But he did, and maybe if Mom had ever felt obligated to really care about Danny, he wouldn’t have ended up wearing a goddamn dog collar in western Canada.

Not that it was Canada’s fault, or anything. Ryan hadn’t ever realized how fucking huge Canada was, before he’d flown into Edmonton on the fastest flight he could find, rented a car, and then drove and drove and drove and fucking drove to the police station his brother was waiting in - only to realize it had been more hours upon hours of driving for Nate to get Danny there in the first place.

That cabin in the woods had been literally in the middle of fucking nowhere, and Ryan couldn’t possibly have known, right?

He should have, though. He should have, and maybe none of it would ever have happened if his mother and father hadn’t said all that shit to Danny five years ago about regretting adopting someone who didn’t want to be part of the family business, and therefore part of the family.

They might not see their obligations, but Ryan did. He was obligated, because while Danny had been up in those woods suffering, learning to believe that Denner fucker's lies that he isn't a person, that his body belongs to Denner to use however he wants, learning to call himself a puppy and give up his name and his body and his humanity to stay alive, Ryan had been looking in all the wrong places trying to find him.

He had looked for four straight years. He'd started looking the day Danny didn’t come home from his weird meetup with the older guy he was either just crushing hard on or actually dating, no one seemed to know, and he'd kept looking until the day the cops called and said We’ll know for sure once we’ve done the DNA test, Mr. Michaelson, but we’re pretty sure this man is your brother. He had never, ever stopped looking.

He had leveraged his parents’ wealth and influence to pull together private searches long after law enforcement had given up. He had kept looking even when the cops and the FBI stopped helping them find a living man and started focusing on recovering a corpse one day, maybe decades from now, when some dumbass hiker might trip over his brother’s bones in the woods-

Stop it. He survived. You brought him home. You couldn't have known where Denner would take him. You couldn't have done more.

Yes, he could have.

He had been looking, but he hadn’t looked hard enough. He'd looked in the wrong spots, he had missed clues, somewhere, somehow. What if there had been a white hair in the bloodied car they missed? What if Denner had left a fingerprint on Vandrum's apartment building? What if what if what if.

What if none of it would ever have changed a thing?

No, his mother didn't understand, but he couldn’t ever give enough of himself to Danny's recovery to make up for what he had lost, for what he was still losing. For time suffered and time spent trying to heal.

His mother’s photo blinked away and the phone went back to empty black. Ryan sighed in relief… only to watch it light right back up as she tried a second time.

“No, fucking no,” He groaned, fighting the child’s urge to answer just because it was her, because he loved her, because she loved him. Him, but not his brother. The eternal hidden truth of the Michaelson family - one child loved, the other left out, chased off, and lost. "Leave a goddamn voicemail, Mom, come on."

He'd been up all night, for the third night in a row, and Ryan was tapped the fuck out.

One super fun discovery Ryan had made about bringing home two people who had lived in nonstop fight-or-flight-or-freeze mode for four years was that they never stop getting sick.

Danny's immune system had apparently just checked out at some point and left, and Ryan could usually handle it, but this virus or whatever it was... was bad.

Vandrum usually did his best to help, but he had caught the bug, too, this time. Which meant two grown men reduced to middle-of-the-night coughing fits and all-day fevers, two grown men essentially helpless, two grown men Ryan had found himself in charge of.

Ryan wasn't only taking care of his traumatized older brother who refused to let him touch him, even just to check to see if his fever had broken, but also his brother’s equally traumatized maybe-boyfriend who never flinched or pulled away but who instead stared at Ryan with glassy, frightened green eyes and gritted teeth as he simply put up with Ryan’s clumsy attempts at caretaking in silence, only breaking it with the occasional pl-please let Red sl-sleep, he can’t d-d-do chores today, I’ll d-do his chores f-for him, please...

One more day of this and Ryan might crack.

He's stocked the fridge with all the stuff he remembered Mom buying when they were sick as kids - ginger ale and Pedialyte (did adults drink that shit? Vandrum and Danny hadn't put up a fight when he brought it to them and God knew they weren't keeping any food down yet), chicken soup from the deli in little microwave-safe containers, some Gatorade. There were saltines open on the counter, from the only experiment with solid food either man had attempted since they first got sick.

Ryan had never seen someone throw up saltines before, but at least Vandrum had seemed decently ashamed of himself for it. Danny hadn't even tried them.

It's 9:45 in the morning and all Ryan wants to do is crawl back into his own bed and drift, but if he does he knows one of them will need him, and the only thing worse than not sleeping is finally, finally getting to sleep only to be almost immediately woken up by grown men so knocked out by some kind of virus that they could hardly stand on their own.

Ryan slowly sits up straight, feeling pops along his spine from having been slumped over the table for so long, wondering if twenty-four was too young to have his fucking bones crack when he moves, like an old man.

“One hour,” He says out loud, to no one in particular. “If they don’t need anything in the next hour, I’m giving up and going to fucking bed.”

He pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, which does absolutely nothing to alleviate his exhaustion. He listens to the voicemail his mother eventually leaves, after her third and fourth attempts go unanswered.

Here’s to hoping you’re sleeping, Ryan, and don’t worry, I was just wondering how you were doing and if you had any updates on how Danny and his, um, friend are doing. I can have Mrs. Verona over there to give you a break, poor dear, just say the word.

I was sleeping, Mom, Ryan thinks bitterly, rubbing at his forehead with the heel of one hand as he listens, ignoring for the moment that technically he had fallen asleep sitting at the table like a parent with a newborn and not an adult with a sick brother. Your fucking phone calls woke me up, congratulations, Corrine Michaelson, you’re a gold-star mom today.

No, that wasn’t fair. She was just worried, Mom knew he wasn’t sleeping enough since Danny came home. She was just trying to help, with the offers of an aide or of sending Mrs. Verona over for a day.

She wasn’t trying to chase Danny off again, she wasn’t trying to make him feel like less-than even when he’d only just really started to get his feet under himself again. She just wanted to help Ryan, like always, and was so blinded by it that she missed that what helped Ryan sometimes hurt Danny.

She’d never meant to be awful to Danny, really, it had always just… happened.

Why do you always make excuses for her? Why don’t you just admit it, give it a name, and try to protect him from them while he’s still so fragile and so easily torn apart all over again? He needs someone who can stand up for him this time, and you never have, you always, always let them blame him. You let him run to Eureka to get away from them, so he was in this stupid town when that fucking psychopath came calling to pick his ex up again.

You let them chase Danny away, and it’s your fault he was here when Abraham Denner wanted a new victim. It’s your fault, Ryan, and you have to fix it, so stop whining to yourself about being tired and take care of the brother you couldn’t save when it counted.

You can start by calling what Mom and Dad do to Danny what it is, by calling it-

“Ryan?”

He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t heard anyone coming, but he looks up now to see Danny leaning against the open-framed doorway to the kitchen, staring in at him with stark surprise written across his face.

The wavy red hair is sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck and his blue eyes are fever-bright, two bright red splotches mark his cheeks. His face is otherwise chalk-white, freckles and the ring of half-healed scarring standing out in garish, nearly neon red in a perfect outline of that fucking thing Ryan can barely stand to think about.

“What’re you doing up? You look dead on your feet, man.” Ryan stands up, slowly so he doesn’t surprise him - Danny still doesn’t like it when people move too fast around him, and the fever definitely doesn’t help with that problem - and sets his coffee mug on the table. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I’m not s’posed to, to be in th’ bed.” Danny glances over his shoulder, then back, putting a finger to his lips. “Ssshhh. He must’ve… told Nate it was okay...” Danny’s eyes drift, aimlessly, to the side, looking with confusion at the window above the kitchen sink, with the faded, ancient little pleated floral curtain that had been in the apartment when Danny moved in. “That’s not right. What d’you think he did to earn me getting to sleep in the bed?”

Something in Ryan cracks a little more, the way it always does every single time Danny says something else like this, some new piece of heart-deep horror that Danny doesn’t even seem to recognize for what it is.

“I don’t suppose it would help to tell you you’re home,” Ryan says, wearily, thinking longingly about the last few swallows of hot coffee left and whether it’s worth drinking it if it’s not going to even touch the fatigue. “Would it?”

“I wish I could go home.” Danny speaks the words so softly Ryan nearly misses them. “I wish, but there isn’t one anymore. I know all the rules. I’m so fucking tired, Ryan. Are you still looking for me?”

“Danny?” He’s so exhausted that it takes too long, far too long, for it to really sink in that Danny isn’t talking to him at all, but to some memory he’s having, that Danny’s lost in the woods again.

“I wish I got to keep my name.” Danny whimpers the words more than speaks and then slides straight to the floor in one swift motion. Ryan can’t cross the distance in time to stop him and Danny thumps to the ground nearly bonelessly, still braced against the door frame, closing his eyes slowly and resting the side of his head against it. “You have to look in the woods, Ryan. We’re in the woods.”

When Ryan crouches in front of him, reaching out one hand, he doesn’t flinch or pull away, not when Ryan’s palm presses against his sweaty, boiling-hot forehead, not when he feels the rabbit-fast flutter of his pulse in the side of his neck.

“Whatever you want,” Danny mumbles, eyes half-opening, then closing again. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be good.”

He’s going to have to stand Danny up, and he can barely find the energy to straighten his legs for himself. Three days - three days of the fevers that come and go, the coughing that wakes him up when he does sleep, his mother’s worried phone calls, Vandrum being fucking useless because he’s sick, too.

He just.

It’s just too fucking much and Ryan never realized how hard it would be to do all of this totally alone.

“Danny, I’m so goddamn tired,” Ryan says out loud, near tears himself. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep taking care of you-”

“S’okay,” Danny slurs back to him. “Go back t’bed. I can make breakfast. I need to do chores… s’time, he can’t see I’m late, he can’t, can’t see-” Danny starts trying to push himself back to his feet, and Ryan is half-impressed, half-horrified when his desperately ill brother manages to make himself stand back up, knees locked, glittering, distant eyes fixed on the sink. Ryan stands with him, slowly, his hands out but uncertain what to do next. “Do dishes. Start with dishes. He has to see I’m still working…”

Danny takes a step and simply collapses forward, but this time Ryan is there to catch him under the arms in an awkward half-hug, and Danny shudders at the touch but he’s too weak to pull away or fight back, too weak to even try.

“Look in the woods,” Danny mutters, and his forehead falls against Ryan’s shoulder, thumping into it hard enough to make Ryan wince. “Look in th’ woods for us. Sssshhhhh… everything’s so fuckin’ loud…”

“You’re the only one talking here, buddy,” Ryan murmurs, closing his own eyes just for a second, feeling himself sway a little, a sort of dip in his brain where the white fog of tired takes over before his eyes jolt back open. “Shit. I, I have to sleep, Dan, or I’m gonna die.”

“Don’ die,” Danny mutters, without moving even an inch. “Don’ die. Mom’ll be mad at me.”

Ryan laughs, and after a second Danny huffs a sound that might be laughter, too, and finally Ryan braces himself, pushing Danny back up to where he’s taking at least a little of his own weight. “Okay, okay. I got an idea. Go back to my room, okay? We’ll lie down in there.”

“I have to start chores,” Danny protests faintly, his eyes dancing around aimlessly again, then landing back on Ryan’s face. “Can you tell Mom to call me in sick today? There’s no way I’m going to school. Abraham’s gonna be so mad at me... I can’t go t’school today...”

“You’re twenty-six years old, big brother,” Ryan grunts as he manages to get Danny’s arm around his shoulder to hold him up, taking his weight, his head pounding. He just had to get to bed. Just that far, not too far at all. “You haven’t been in school for a long time.”

“Oh.” Danny frowns, confused, and when Ryan starts trying to walk, he drags his feet along beside him, nearly shuffling. Their progress down the hallway is slow, but damn it, it still counts as progress, and Ryan can see his bedroom door getting closer with every step. “Did I graduate? I don’t remember that.”

Ryan sighs, taking a pause to redistribute Danny’s weight. He’s going to fall over right here in the hallway, pass out and sleep for a week. Right there on the floor. Maybe someone will drop an omelet or something for him to eat while he’s down there.

Who would make it, though, if Danny and Vandrum are both totally useless? Maybe if he called his mother, she’d send Mrs. Verona over with, like, a fucking honeyed ham or something.

“No, Dan, you didn’t. You were still one semester out. They sent you an honorary degree, though, I have it stashed somewhere.”

You know, when they thought you were dead, when everyone but me gave up.

“Honor degree.” Danny giggles, the sound eerie and unfamiliar, a high-pitched noise he’s almost never made in Ryan’s entire memory. “Degree for honor. What’s honor when you fuck like I do now?”

“If there is a God, may you never say anything like that ever again.” Ryan manages to get his door open, although only barely, and he stumbles a few feet into the room before simply letting Danny fall right into the bed, breathing hard.

“May I have permission to sleep?” Danny mumbles, eyes already closing as he mostly crawls his way further into the bed. Ryan’s heard him ask Nate Vandrum that question every fucking night since they brought him home, with the occasional lapse when he remembers he’s a human being and grown-ass humans don’t have to ask permission to fall asleep.

Just like they shouldn’t have to ask permission to shower or bathe or sit in a chair and not on the floor or eat with a fork or…

No. Too tired to be angry right now.

“Yes,” Ryan says heavily. “Yes, you can sleep.”

“Thank you for letting me sleep, Ryan.” The voice is soft and fuzzy, gentle and grateful, and Ryan fucking hates Danny’s stupid fucking rules and his stupid fucking puppy voice. And he hates that he’s so tired that he can’t stop himself from being angry that Danny still uses it rather than focusing on the fact that sometimes, for whole days, he doesn’t.

“No problem, buddy. Get some rest.”

He watches Danny curl up, turning his six-foot-two body into something shockingly small. His knees go to his chest and his arms curve over his head with his hands loosely splayed over his hair, a defensive position to ward off the blows that might be coming at any time.

He never slept like that before, he’d said to Vandrum one night early on, when they’d both woken up and caught Danny curled up like that on the floor next to the couch.

Yeah, w-w-well, your p-parents didn’t w-w-wake him up with head t-trauma, did they? Nate had said, and Ryan had hated him a little less, in the moment, when he’d seen the guilt written across his face. Nate was always guilty, and he damn well should be, but Ryan had plenty to be guilty about, too.

Plenty to make up for.

And he’ll be right back to that as soon as he gets some goddamn sleep.

Ryan sighs, swaying a little, and finally climbs in, sliding under the covers, unruly black curls falling over his face. He watches Danny, already out, curled up and ready to be kicked awake at any moment.

He falls asleep with one hand out, resting on top of the comforter within inches of Danny, not quite touching him.

#Daniel Michaelson's story #Bad Things Happen Bingo #bthb Daniel Michaelson's story #whump #trauma recovery #angry caretaker #broken whumpee #deconditioning #conditioning #dehumanization #pet whump #recovery whump #hurt/comfort #h/c #sick fic #of a sort #I suppose #ryan michaelson is a good brother

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

be there b.h

anon asked: hey may I please have an imagine where you are away on a work trip for like a couple of months and Ben has to look after his teenage daughter and she gets her period and he freaks out before taking care of her and figuring life out? maybe he can ring Gwilym because you’re not picking up your phone? sorry if that’s weird

I got so inspired reading this prompt omfg… i think this turned out pretty good lemme know what you think! I also decided to write this in a different tense than i normally do.

y/n isn’t really involved in this, but she’s mentioned a bit :)

wc: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, unedited, mentions of periods and everything that goes along with it, fluffy ben w daughter

“Remember, soccer practice 5-6:30 on Tuesday and Thursday, and she’s having Madison over for a sleepover on Friday, so you need to get them pizza and ice cream if they ask. Check on them once every few hours but not too much-”

“Honey, I got it under control. I promise.” Ben chuckled at his wife’s excessive worrying. It really can’t be that hard taking care of a teenage girl alone for a week, can it? “You’ll be late for your flight.” Ben continued. She let her eyes graze over the expanse of her home before leaning in and kissing her husband on the lips.

“I’ll see you in a week. Good luck.” She said, wheeling her suitcase behind her. Ben laughed, but deep down was slightly nervous. He hasn’t been the sole caretaker of Allison for longer than five days, and that was when she was four.

She was a lot nicer when she was four.

Now she’s 13, and she spends a lot of time in her room and always asks to go to her friend's house. Not that Ben would complain, though. He was convinced he was the favorite parent (even though Allison never told him that).

Tonight, you were planning on taking her to the mom and pop diner, Delilah's Diner, that was around the block from their house, which happened to be Ally’s favorite place to eat.

“Al, we’re going to head over to Delilah’s in ten minutes is that good?” Ben bellowed through the house, hoping she could hear him. There wasn’t a response.

“Allison? Did you hear? We’re leaving in ten.” Ben tried again, but all that followed his words was silence. She must have her damn headphones in. Ben was starting to go up the stairs when Allison bounded down them, her blonde locks flying behind her.

“Do you think we could just go now?” She said breathlessly when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, I guess so. Are you hungry?” Ally nodded feverishly before hooking her arm with her dad’s and walking them out to the car. Ben’s heart melted at her gesture.

Ben and Ally had an oddly amazing conversation at dinner. They had sat and talked for two hours about anything and everything that came to mind. They had milkshakes and ate way more food then they should have.

After they were finished, the pair walked home, laughing and reminiscing on when Ally was little, or when Ben and Y/N first started dating. She was especially intrigued when Ben told her how her mom had dumped Ben for a solid two weeks before they got back together.

Ally went into her room when they got home and changed into comfier clothes, and met Ben back in the living room. The two of them sat on the couch and watched an entire season of Riverdale. Ben hadn’t seen the first season and was incredibly out of the loop and asked Ally about a thousand questions.

“Wait, so are they dating?” He had asked as he took a sip from his glass of water.

“No! Dad, we’ve been over this. They broke up three episodes ago.” Ally had spoke between giggles.

“Ah, that’s right, my bad.” Ben had responded back.

Ben felt his eyes start to droop and a yawn squeeze it’s way through his lip before he looked at the clock and realized the time. “Holy shit, it’s 3 am!” Ben exclaimed, practically jumping up and scaring the shit out of Ally.

“Oh god… so much for me passing my math test tomororw.” Ally muttered, beginning to scurry off to her room. Ben bit his lip in thought.

“If you want… I could keep you home from school? Take you to your ‘doctor’s appointment?” Ben asked, raising his eyebrows playfully at his daughter in the dark.

“I don’t have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” she responded, not seeming to understand where Ben was going with this.

“Yes, darling I know that. But I could keep you home from school and tell a little white lie? If you want.”

“You just asked if I want to stay home from school for no reason? Is that even a question? Yes. Please,” Ally responded, letting out a slight laugh as she ran up to her dad, “thank you, Dad. I love you,” she murmured into his chest.

“I won’t tell Mom if you promise you won’t,” Ben stated, pulling away from Ally slightly.

“Wouldn’t dream of snitching on you.”

“Glad to hear that.”

Ally bounded away from Ben back to her room, and the father’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard. Maybe he is the favorite parent.

“Ally, you almost ready?” Ben yelled impatiently as he waited for her in the kitchen. His leg was bouncing slightly from anxiety. He was worried Y/N would somehow find out about their shenanigans. There was no answer from his teenage daughter.

“Al?” Ben yelled again. And just like last time, no response. He yelled her name a few more times and there wasn’t an answer. Ben assumed yet again that Ally had her headphones in. He trudged up the stairs, walking into her room to find her bed made and completely empty. He was confused.

“Ally?” Ben said again, before walking out of her room and noticing the light on in the bathroom. He knocked on the door lightly, “you almost ready to go?” he asked. He heard a few sniffles and a soft “yeah.”

His heart dropped at the sound of her voice. She sounded like she had been crying. “Are you okay, love?” Ben spoke through the door, his voice soft and tender. There was a pause before he heard some shuffling from in the bathroom. She opened the door, revealing her slumped shoulders and puffy eyes.

Ben didn’t miss a beat before wrapping her in a tight hug, hoping to comfort her. He searched her eyes for a moment, waiting for her to say something.

“Dad… I-I think I…” she started to say before looking down at her feet in her embarrassment. Ben gently lifted her chin up to look at him again, silently urging her to keep talking.

“I think I just got my period.”

Oh fuck.

This week had been so simple and enjoyable for Ben. He was about to take his daughter out for breakfast and relax all day, probably have some more ice cream. And now he had to figure out how to deal with this.

“Oh. Well… okay. Give me a second, love. Just sit down for a second.”

Ally nodded and sat down on the closed toilet, staring ahead at the wall. Ben walked quickly into the living room, dialing Y/N’s phone number into his phone as fast as he could.

He put it to his ear, expecting to hear his wife’s sing-songy voice in a few moments. But it went to voicemail. Ben repeated the process multiple times, but there was no response. He mumbled a few curses under his breath before closing his eyes to think about what to do.

Gwilym.

He had two daughters, and one of them was well into their teens. He would know. Ben dialed his number, crossing his fingers slightly to increase the chances of Gwil picking up. And he did.

Relief coursed through the body of the blonde at the sound of the lanky man’s voice. He explained what was going on to Gwil, which caused Gwil to let out a chuckle.

“I was the same way when that happened with Kelsie. Her mom was at the store, and I kinda had to figure it out. Leave the ‘talk’ to Y/N; just get her whatever she wants. And make sure she’s not in pain. Let her talk, but let her hide in her room if she wants. Just be there for her.”

Ben was eternally grateful for Gwil’s advice, and made a mental note to send him a thank-you text later on as he walked back to the bathroom.

“Ally? I think your mom has some stuff you could use in her bathroom.” Ben’s voice was quiet and calm, and he led Ally to the bathroom he shared with her mom.

He opened up the cabinet under their sink and grabbed a few pads and tampons, quickly explaining what they were to his daughter.

“This is a pad, which goes in your underwear and just catches all the blood. And this,” Ben paused, holding it in front of him, “is a tampo, and it-”

“Yeah, I know what a tampon is, dad.”

“O-Oh okay.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, on the floor in Ben’s bathroom. “I’m scared, dad,” Ally whispered softly into the silence of the bathroom. Ben whipped his head up to look at her, tears welling up in her eyes. He immediately pulled her into a tight hug, comfortingly rubbing her back.

“Love, it’s really not a big deal! I promise-” Ben began to speak before Ally interrupted.

“It’s not this. I knew it was going to happen I just… it just hit me that I’m not a little kid anymore. And I'm eventually going to college and I’ll live alone and get married and have kids and I’m scared.”

Ben felt his heart shatter in his chest at the sound of his daughter so heartbroken. He pulled away slightly and grabbed her shoulders, looking her directly in the eyes.

“Al, baby. That stuff is in the future. You’ve got a long time to prepare for that. And you’re going to be ready, I know it. Just take things one day at a time. Get through 8th grade before you start worrying about getting married, okay?” he paused and flashed a comforting smile at Ally.

“And your mom and I are going to be there with you, every step of the way. We got your back. We will always be there for you. When you graduate from high school, we’ll be there. When you get married, we’ll be there, god forbid you have kids, we’ll be there! Always. I promise. You’re going to be okay. If I can get through adult life and somehow manage to find someone as amazing as your mom to marry, you’ll do just fine.”

Ally was crying again, trying to wipe the tears out of her eyes before they slid down her cheeks. She gave a half smile at Ben during his little speech.

“I’ll go pick up some breakfast and we’ll finish watching Riverdale, yeah?” Ben spoke, waiting for Ally to approve or deny his little plan. She nodded, and Ben helped her out to the couch. He kissed her lightly on the head before walking out, texting Y/N and filling her in on the situation.

And, even though he hated Riverdale, Ben would watch it over and over again to make his little girl smile. He was scared shitless for Ally’s future and his own, but deep down he knew that as long as he had his two favorite girls in the world by his side, everything would turn out okay.

#ben hardy #ben hardy headcanon #ben hardy fic #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fanfic #ban hardy fanfiction #ben hardy blurb #ben hardy drabble #ben hardy oneshot #queen #queen band #borhap #borhap cast #borhap boys #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #bohemian rhapsody movie

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mrneighbourlove · 5 years

Text

Blue Stream: Ch 4. Love Floats Downstream

Scarlet was looking around for her eldest daughter, having just finished chopping meat up with a cleaver for the family. That girl was going to miss lunch. Was she drinking again? "Rat! You seen Revy?"

"Nay, I hasn't." Rat was currently heading out with a bucket of scraps to give to the pigs. "Trygve hasn't seen her either. I just talked to him and he's going to get the horses ready for plowing."

"When you see her, let her know that she missed out on beef sandwiches.

Revy wasn't drinking at the moment. In fact, she was quite sober, and currently working up the nerve to enter the orphanage. Why did the new spring weather bring heat waves? Was she sweaty from her heat or her nerves? Taking her shirt off the Gerudo was left with a red tanktop for her upper body. Walking to the door, she gave a knock, hoping that the owl woman would answer. Seija was the first person that Revy noticed. Made her feel flustered. Why? She’d been complimented by many from the brothels hoping to finally invite her in or hunting parties, but it never got to her. So why this new development now? She had to find out.

One of the orphaned kids answered the door, a stuffed toy rabbit underneath her arm. She was sucking her thumb, probably no more than a couple years old. Looking at Revy for a moment, she then darted back inside of the house.

“Wait! Don’t run!” Crap. Did she look scary?

"Flora!" Seija darted around the corner, Flora's twin, Fauna, on her back. She was trying to catch the little one to change her clothes. Why were toddlers faster than a cheetah? It was not fair! "I told you not to answer the door for strangers---oh!" The lady was very surprised that Revy was here.

“Hiiiii~” Revy smiled best she could, clicking her finger to Seija just as Lex instructed her to do. “How have things around the orphanage been?”

"They've been a little---" Seija winced as she heard a loud 'bang' from the kitchen. "Hectic for lack of better word. The older kids are trying to prepare lunch and I've been trying to get these two, " She gestured to the twins. "To settle down since they found the hidden cookie jar."

“Sounds like a handful. Would you like an extra hand?”

"That... that would be wonderful." Seija tried to wipe the flour on her cheek off with a sheepish smile. "If you don't mind?"

“I’ve handled two little siblings for a good part of my life now.” Revy stepped into the orphanage and decided to get their attention. “You kids want to see a magic trick?”

"If you could obtain their attention while I help with lunch preparation, then that would be wonderful." Seija hurried to the kitchen to make sure nothing was on fire and food would not be wasted. After a half hour or so, Seija appeared in the dining hall, setting up all the plates. There was even a dish for Revy, and she called everyone to eat.

Revy instantly got the little ones attention with her display of lightning sparking between her fingers. She even juggled a bolt, putting on a little dance for the wee ones. What got the older kids attention was when she took her eyepatch temporarily off, her missing eye illuminated with the glow of electricity. She told the tale of her fight against the terrible Onslaught and, unlike the adults of the bar, they were completely enamoured by her story. At the call of dinner, she cut it after speaking of how she and Twinrova turned him into dust. “Oh! Lunch time! I’ll take questions after!”

"Thank you for watching them." Seija sat down at the table and sighed, relieved that lunch was a success and nothing was burning or falling apart. "I'm not much of a cook but I hope you like it."

“Grilled cheese! Thank you!” Revy was happy that everything was going well. Seija seemed to like her help. Taking her seat, she had to lean down to eat at the small table. “So, I thought I could help with construction.”

"Construction? Are you a builder?" Seija asked Revy as she nibbled on her own food. "We could always use the help. I can't pay much, unfortunately."

“I’ll do it for free. I’ve helped rebuild houses before. Or my dads barn. It’s no biggie for someone like me.”

"Well, the least I could do is fix some food for you." Seija offered, feeling a bit guilty for accepting help without being able to pay. "I can make sure the kids stay out of the way."

“Your kids aren’t all that bad. Are all of you ok with me helping build that extension?”

"I would appreciate any help you could give," Seija admitted as Revy munched on her grilled cheese sandwich. "I'm not much of a builder, except for small projects. I can fix a broken toy and mend clothes, maybe a hole in the wall, but a whole addition is out of my hands." Seija elaborated. "There were five children, but the twins are new. At least they're young enough, only three years, to not recall what happened to their parents. So now, we're seven strong... and simply have no more room. Alva’s the oldest, she's a teenager and really needs her own space, even if it is small." Seija tried to think, showing Revy the crudely drawn plans. "Then Niklas and Oskar can show a room since they're both boys. Merete and Kyliki can have a bunk bed in the third room, but now, with the twins, we really need another room.”

“I need the workout. And I love to help people. Especially those who are in need.” Revy smiled as she gobbled her grilled cheese down. “Thank you for lunch. Now then. Where should I get started?”

“It'd be nice if we could have a large living area instead of all of us cramming into the kitchen or having to be outside in the cold."

Revy picked up a hammer, flipping it right side up. “I’ll get right on it.”

The work was long and hard, yet incredibly satisfying for Revy. By the time she was done, Revy was leaning against one completed wall. She took a towel one of the kids gave her and wiped the sweat away.

Scarlet had gotten worried that Revy was passed out from drinking again and sent Rat out to drag her back. What he found was cheers coming from the orphanage as Revy ran out to examine the outside of the wall she finished.

“One wall down! Only two more to go!”

Rat was not one to spy. No, that was usually Mojo's and Juju's job. However, today, Rat was doing some peeping of his own. His daughter had made some questionable choices lately, and both Borghild and Scarlet were worried. Standing behind a stack of barrels at the ale house, Rat watched as Revy worked on the orphanage. He was a little confused. Why was she spending her time here? She never showed any interest in becoming a caretaker. It was then the answer was revealed when Seija rounded the corner with fresh brownies from the oven. Revy was... ogling the orphanage's headmistress. "... well..." Rat said to himself with a shrug of his shoulders. "My girl has good taste!"

Revy didn’t know why her attention was so captured by this fluffy owl. Seija was like a sparkling snowflake. When she heard her dad, her spell was broken. “D-dad?! What are you doing here?”

"I'm... I'm getting a barrel of ale!" Rat quickly saved face by selecting a big barrel and paying the vendor. "Yep, barrel of ale for Mojo and Juju when they come for a visit. You just do whatever you're doing but be home in time for dinner. Your moms are fixing that grilled chicken you like!"

Revy looked at the brownies, feeling conflicted. “Hey Seija, can I have those wrapped up?”

"Of course! I'd hate to keep your... wait, moms?" Seija looked puzzled. "I thought Borghild was your mom?"

“Borghild is my god mother and the woman who raised me. Scarlet is my birth mother. She lives with Borghild and I. It’s why I’m Gerudo.”

"Oh! Okay, I understand now." Seija sheepishly admitted. "I thought you were adopted. Sorry."

“Scarlet was a pirate, so obviously couldn’t get raised by her at the time. Liz and Lex are adopted tho!” Revy didn’t know why she blurted that out.

"Oh, Liz who is dating the prince? I think that was mentioned once in a conversation." Seija made sure to wrap up the brownies in a cloth and handed the contents to Revy. "I hope you like them. You'll be here tomorrow?"

“Liz is married to Prince Halvar, actually.” Revy took the brownies from Seija and didn’t notice herself smiling like a happy puppy. “I’d love to come back.”

"Yes, of course! I'm sure even after you're finished working, the kids would love to have some time to get to known you." Seija offered. "Wednesday night is game night. We usually play cards or a board game. Would you like to join us?"

“I’d love too!” Revy was wonderfully giddy. “See you tomorrow than Seija!”

"Tell your family to join us for game night if they like!" Seija waved goodbye to Revy. "Be careful going home!"

Revy was walking home, chewing down a single brownie and thinking about her day, when she finally noticed her dad had the smuggest grin. “What?”

"Me thinks me little girl finally has a crush one someone." Rat was outside waiting for his daughter's arrival, chopping some firewood. "A certain, pretty snowy bird."

“W-w-what?” Revy’s face flushed, and her hands grew sweaty. “What do you mean by that? I’ve never been attracted to anyone before!”

"Well, your old dad is pretty sure you're crushing on the bird lady that runs the orphanage." Rat teased her lightly. "He knows a romance starting when he sees one. It's the little things that get your attention, see," He elaborated. "You may think she's beautiful, but also loves how she twirls her hair when she's thinking or gets that stiff upper lip when she's mad..."

“I.... darn. I think you’re right. Just don’t-“

“REVY!!! Where have you been missy!!!”

Revy flinched at her mom bellowing from the house. Scarlet could command well when she raised her voice. She rarely did, so Revy knew her mother was cross with her.

“Have you been drinking?! Don’t lie to me.”

“No! Gods mom! I haven’t!”

"Nay, she wasn't drinking," Rat told Scarlet with a shake of his head. "Revy was seeing a sweet little perdy thing."

“Dad!”

Scarlet saw Revy flare up, and now she had a million questions going through her mind. “I don’t believe it. HEY BORGY! Revy has a girlfriend!”

“Mom! I don’t have a girlfriend!”

"A girlfriend?!" Borghild's voice said from inside the house, followed by a loud crash, a bang, the sound of tripping, and then heavy footsteps rushing to the front door. "When did this happened?!"

"Today." Rat told his wife. "She hasn't asked Seija out yet."

"Ooooh!!!" Borghild nearly squealed in delight. "Seija is such a sweet thing!!! She's perfect! So shy, and clumsy, and adorable!"

“I didn’t. Because I’m not-“

“Is this Seija a good person? How do you know?”

“Mother. I’m not-“

“Shy and clumsy? You sure she’s a good fit for Revy?”

“Dad! Tell them it’s not like that!”

"Seija is a nice lady." Rat put down the axe and collected some firewood into a stack, deciding to throw in the magic word. "She runs the orphanage and loves children. You know, we could potentially have a lot of grandkids if Revy ends up adopting all the kiddos."

“Can all of you please stop?” Revy groaned, not liking the embarrassment.

“Why? This is so much better than you drinking. We’re going to be grand parents!”

"I get first dibs on teaching the grandkids how to throw an axe!" Borghild called the claim before Scarlet could. "And first hunting trip!"

"Now, now, it might be a while before Revy proposes, you never know." Rat chuckled. "You can at least know it will never be quiet around here again."

“I JUST MET HER!” Revy felt her frustrations boil. “There’s something I just LIKE about her. I’m not going to pork her, because I STILL don’t have that type of attraction to people! I don’t know how things will happen with me continuing to go there, but you’re making me uncomfortable! I don’t know if I want a lover or if I want a friend. So can you get this baby talk out of my head? Please? You’re embarrassing me!”

"We're your parents, it's our job to embarrass you... a little." Rat laughed as he gestured for Revy to grab some firewood too. "At least let us have a little fun. Whether you date or not, we just want you to be happy."

Scarlet pulled Revy to be squished between her and Borghild. “We just want you to be happy. I’m sorry if you feel like we’ve teased you.”

"We want you to be happy... and we want 12 grandkids at some point too." Borghild added with a bear hug.

"I thought we agreed on 15?"

"We met halfway. I originally said 10."

"Six girls and six boys."

"It doesn't matter, we'll manage them all."

“Guuuuuuuys!” Revy struggled between both her moms, holding the tray of brownies close to her. There was no way she could invite her parents to game night.

Ocax thought he could be useful when he woke up. Rising early awake, the Twili made his way to the kitchen. Looking through the cabinets, he found a line of bread and a slab of ham and cheese. Finding the knives, he quickly got to work cutting and making sandwiches. He was nearly done, when, by making sure Towa had her crusts cut, and going rather quickly, he cut his finger wide open.

Ocax shrieked like a cucco from his mistake.

Seer, for once, was sleeping soundly. He was usually an early riser, but the mead from last night's meal made him tune out the rest of the world... until the unholy shriek filled the house. The orca Direnor was so startled, he nearly fell out of his bed. At first, his mind jumped to one of his girls, but then Seer recalled the twins did not live her any longer. He had to recall last night's events. There were... uninvited guests in his home. Stumbling into the kitchen, Seer's hair was a mess, lopped to one side, and his beard was stubby. "What in the name of Handeh is going on in my kitchen?"

“Nothing! I’m fine. J-just a cut.” Ocax couldn’t hide the winces in his breathing. “Just eat your breakfast.”

Seer sniffed a couple of times. "... a... ham and cheese sandwich is not a proper breakfast." He remarked with frown. "And you cut yourself."

“I wanted to be a civil guest. And yes. I cut myself.” Ocax sat down, heavily annoyed with himself.

Towa ran down, catching all her clothes together. “Ocax? Are you ok?”

“No. I sliced my finger open cutting the crusts off your sandwich.”

Towa had concern, yet warmth in her expression. “You idiot... thank you. Be more careful next time.” She grabbed her sandwich, taking a massive bite. “Hey, this isn’t bad.”

“Towa… Chew, swallow, talk.” Ocax held his finger tight, blood squirting into his palm. “Seer... I don’t suppose you’re a medic too?”

"I've patched up my girls more times than I can remember," Seer opened the cabinets and felt around for a box. Inside, there were various medical supplies. He placed it on the counter, and selected a small bottle of cleaning alcohol, and a roll of gauze. "Make sure you wash it first with warm water and soap."

“I don’t like soap. It’s irritating on my skin.”

Towa roller her eyes and headed to the door. “Don’t be an ass. See you later.”

“Hey! Not without me!”

“I’m not waiting on you Ocax. Be smart, get treated, then find me later.”

“Towa-”

“Bye! Love you! Don’t be a dumbass! I’m going to find a bear!”

The Twili woman ran out as Ocax sulked to the closest tap. “Damn woman I swear she’ll be the end of me.”

"If you don't want to use soap, you got one choice; stinging alcohol." Seer held up the tiny bottle, giving it a little shake. Personally, he did not mind Towa leaving. It would give a little more peace and quiet. "Pick your poison."

Without hesitation Ocax poured the alcohol. It stun like a hornet, but at least it wouldn’t leave him sickly with a rash. “That burns like hot a poker. Hurry with what you need to do.” The Twili rested his chin on his other rested arm. “This was humiliating. Will you at least eat your breakfast?”

"You're not the first person to slice open your finger while making a sandwich for your kids---I mean, friend, and you won't be the last." Seer managed to tie a bow to keep the gauze in place. "... I will take the ham off the sandwich, brown it, put the cheese in some eggs, scramble them, and toast the bread you used to make the sandwich, so yes, I will eat my breakfast. The question is," He asked. "Do you want your version of breakfast or mine?"

“Of course the cook states he can make a better breakfast.” Ocax looked at the tie with light amusement before letting out a defeated sigh. “I suppose your version would be more of a bountiful meal.”

"Of course I can make a better breakfast." Seer teased lightly, grinning from ear to ear. "You're not entirely useless in the kitchen. Set the table while I cook." He started to get the necessary items for the meal. "Random question, Tweats... no... Tawrs? Twats? OH GODS---no, no, no, ignore that, just whatever your race is called," He then spitted out. "You're not allergic to anything, right?"

“It’s Twili. Twi-li. Twili. And no, besides my dislike of chocolate, I’m only allergic to certain soaps.” Ocax was a good house guest, and got to setting a table for two. “Direnor. Die-re-nor. See, I managed.”

"Twili, like Twilight. I think I can remember that." Seer managed to fix a large plate of food for Ocax and himself. The Direnor poured a couple glasses of imported orange juice and then sat at the table. "Your friend is missing out. Are you going to be okay eating?"

“Exactly like Twilight. And Towa, she can suffer when she hears about what she missed.” Ocax was about to reach for his food, when he raised a brow. “What, you feed the injured by hand?”

"I have before when my crew mates were injured." Seer tried to hold back a snicker at the old memory. "Bomba blew off one of his fingers and couldn't hold a fork straight to save his life. Tried to eat with the other hand and ended up with a burn on his chest."

“...Is that something you wish to do for me?” Ocax set his slightly shaky fork down, resting his gaze on Seer and waiting him to make the next move.

"I don't mind if you need me to do so." Seer shrugged his shoulders, acting like it was perfectly normal. "I mean... I'm assuming you're right handed?"

“I’m duel handed, but this cut is making me shake. Last thing I need is to spill my drink everywhere.”

"Well then, sit closer." Seer felt of the table, grabbing Ocax's plate and silverware. He felt of the food placement and made sure nothing was steaming, drifting his hand over it. Getting a good helping of scrambled, cheesy eggs on the fork, he held it upward. "You'll uh... have to help me with this part since I'm not a good judge of distance. And I don't want to stab your eye out with a egg-covered fork."

“Of course.” Ocax took hold of Seer’s thigh to hold himself steady, and closed the gap, swallowing the food. A tiny gasp left him as he finished. “That’s marvellous.”

"Yes, it is marvelous cause I made it." Seer replied with a smug grin. He prepared the next bite, not thinking too much of the close contact. It was not like someone ever made a move on him... well, Adda did. Though, he knew better now. "However, I think I'm going to have to ban you from my kitchen if you cut yourself again."

“I promise to no longer cut myself.” Ocax just decided to relax and enjoy to meal Seer provided for him. “I wish to ask, why are you alone Seer? You have a good personality, you’re a wonderful chief, you’re good with children, and your home is comfortable.”

"Alone?" Seer did not grasp what Ocax meant. The poor man was completely oblivious. "Oh, my girls are grown. Do kids still live with their parents in the Twilight Realm?"

Ocax pressed his question further. “They don’t, but I ask, why are you alone in this house? You don’t have a relationship?”

"... oh." Seer realized then what Ocax was asking. "Well... it's not for lack of trying, I suppose. I did have one fling years ago, but let's just say she set her sights elsewhere." The Direnor really did not feel like narrating the whole story of Adda's betrayal, and he certainly did not want to think about Bakura. "It's not a problem for me to find a lover in the pleasure house here, but as far as a relationship goes... I guess I was more concerned about my girls than dating. Besides," He shrugged lightly. "The people here, they want someone strong, someone who has no physical weakness... being blind doesn't help my case."

“Bah, that’s pathetic thinking on their part.”

"It's how it has always been around here. I can't expect them to think differently."

“So why should you devalue yourself due to their thinking?”

"Oh, I don't care what they think," Seer admitted, being honest. "I care what my family thinks, my friends think... but at the same time, I can understand their point of view too. I can't blame them, really."

“So, someone as talented as you are content being alone?”

"Oh, I would be delighted to have a lover one day." Seer beamed a little at the thought. "Someone to hold at night, someone to share stories with, someone to laugh with, and someone just to... sit with me by the fire, being content in each other's company. I wouldn't be opposed to more children, but with a grandkid on the way, I may be biting off more than I can chew."

“You have a dream spouse?”

"Heh, 'dream' is the correct term, yes, I suppose." Seer agreed with a light chuckle. "There's certain qualities I like more than others, yes, but everyone has their quirks that makes them special."

“Please, for your sake more than mine. Have a passion to reach for more than a dream. It will make you not only happy, but more desirable in the eyes of others.”

"Your sake, Ocax? Didn't know Twili were interested in romances." Seer mused as he finished gathering the last bite of food for Ocax.

“Excuse me? We find love like anyone on else. I just like men who have passion in their hearts like I do.”

"Oh, you like men? I um..." Seer cleared his throat awkwardly. "Thought you were with... Towa..."

Ocax felt his throat go dry. In the context of his sentence he meant men as mankind. However, his sexual attraction was indeed to men. He slowly clenched his hand off Seer’s thigh. “I-“

At the mention of Towa, Ocax couldn’t help but give a snicker. “Towa? Oh. No, no, no. We’re good friends. But she isn’t near my type.”

"Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed." Seer was a little sheepish. "I mean, I like both men and women. By Rotar, I feel like an ass..."

“It’s alright. Kanisa assumed Towa was a child, perhaps even my child. Although she is only a bit older than me, I think she views me as an older family figure at times.” Ocax took a sip of his drink and sat in awkward silence for a moment.

"Heh, I'm sure she did; Towa is tiny." Seer then asked. "Is that why you're wanting to get back home so badly? You have someone?"

“I think it’s that feeling of isolation for the others. To see home. To feel complete. I honestly don’t care anymore. My interest is faltering more and more in returning.”

"Well, you won't be alone here, Ocax. There's plenty of people around." Seer carefully picked up the plates and took them to the sink to wash. "Time is our own worst enemy. It's hard to wait for something you really want." He said a few words of wisdom. "Waiting is bitter, but the result is sweet."

“I know. But I think I could be happy in this world of light, despite the sting of its sun. Or not seeing the black clouds of twilight.”

"If it's blackness you want, you could always go under the water when the ice is melted." Seer suggested. "But with someone that can actually swim."

“Seer...” Ocax had disappointed annoyance in his voice, not liking the thought of falling in freezing water again. “It’s not for me I continue to search anyways.”

"Heh, all right, but you're missing out. I may not be able to see anything down there, but there is beautiful music." Seer made a wave of his arm, as if he were a conductor at an orchestra. "The sounds are always peaceful." He sighed in contentment at thinking of the music the ocean provided under the sea. "Searching, wandering, but not always lost. Perhaps one day, you'll find your cloudy sky. Though for now, I'm going to shower. Do you need anything else?"

“I think to find Towa so she doesn’t-”

“HOLY COW! THIS BEAR IS AMAZING! TRASNFORM AGAIN!”

“Let go off me!”

Ocax sighed as he heard commotion from outside Towa was causing. Could she get into any more trouble?

The next day Towa saw an interesting old looking building. It held history in its bones, but it was massive! Perhaps this place held ancient secrets. Upon entering, she saw a bunch of Direnor enter, looking muscly and sweaty. At a front counter, a woman looked down at her. “You an adult?”

Towa grumbled at that. Why did people assume always make assumptions of her? “Yes. I’m just small.”

“Alright. You can go in. Have fun.”

As Towa went in, she saw Direnor taking their clothes off. Towa grew excited. This must have been a nudist house of relaxation, perhaps a way to feel free from the prison of clothing without the worries of being ridiculed. Taking what little clothing she had off, she excitedly ran into the halls. She waved to a few people as she looked around. Others seemed to be gathering, but she was content on studying the pillars. There were ancient carvings on them; maybe they held texts she could decipher.

Since Ocax decided to seek out Princess Kanisa's counsel on some Uskarian history, Seer took the opportunity to get away from the house for a bit. All the talk of lovers had him a little depressed. Adda was a one night stand and admittedly, he did not know her that well, but fancied her. Bakura, on the other hand, he had a little more time to know. Maybe he had a bad sense of relationships. The Direnor thought the ex-assassin liked him. Or perhaps, it was just a ruse to get closer to the girls. Either way, Seer had arrived to the conclusion that his taste for women or men was shit. So, to get the thought of old flames off his mind, he traveled to the Pleasure House to melt away his despairs.

However, he did not expect a pint-sized audience.

Towa noticed Seer completely naked on a pile of cushions. Strange, but not enough to throw her off. She liked being naked whenever she got the opportunity! Sure, she didn’t have presentable nipples or her lady bits at the moment like these light worlders, however, those alone wouldn’t bother her. “Oh! Seer! What are you doing at this nudist house? I don’t see why you don’t feel comfortable being naked in your own house. I like to be naked too whenever I can!”

The Direnor nearly spat out his mead. What in the name of Handeh was she doing here? A blush of the reddest of reds covered his face.

"Wh-What?! What are you doing here?!"

Yet, before he could obtain an answer, Seer's procured lovers for the night waltzed over to the blind orca. The woman sat down on his lap and the man kissed him, hard, before running his hand down his chest in a sultry motion.

“Huh? What’s going on?” Towa tilted her head, surprised by the boldness of these two newcomers.

"Do you want to join too? The more, the merrier... and messier." The female giggled as she winked at Towa. "The Madam can help you find someone else if you don't want to join our group."

"She might not like roughness, she's tiny, Kairi." The male literally purred as he released Seer's mouth with a gasp. "Might be more suited for a night of slow romance."

"Either way, Balthor, she can enjoy the show." Kairi then proceeded to test her skills of oral administration of Seers cock while Balthor played with Seer's hole, before penetrating him.

"Oh, f-fuck..." Seer felt his mind going blank from the pleasure.

“....holy shit....” Towa lightly squeaked out. Her ears shot up like a cat when she picked up on where she was. There were dozens of people getting into the groove of one large orgy around. How did she get into a sex addict convention?!

Her cheeks flushed blue and her knees trembled at the sight of Seer being penetrated. Dear lord, her host was a sex cultist!

"Sure you don't want to join?"

"Don't be pushy, Seer might not want to share."

"Do you want to share?"

When someone placed a hand on her stomach and shoulder from behind, Towa screeched like a cat having its tail stepped on. Her magic hair slapped them away, and in her panic, she assumed her shadow form, bouncing around the brothel and keeping away from people until she was near the entrance. Grabbing her clothes, she hid in people’s shadows until she was outside.

Ocax was surprised by how much he enjoyed Kanisa’s wise council. She was a bookworm like him, and her understanding of the land’s law was insightful.

“Perhaps banishment might be too harsh. I think with proper rehabilitation, people could-”

He was cut off his talk with the Gerudo woman when he saw Towa screaming like a mad woman, almost crying when she grabbed his collar. “OCAX!!! OH THANK GOD!”

“What did you do?”

“I was minding my own business when-“

“Bullshit.”

“I WAS! I was looking into history when I stumbled upon a sex cult! Seer is one of them! I saw him getting penetrated by another man while a woman pleasured his appendage! Then other members of the cult tried to drag ME into it!!!”

"Oh good goddesses," Kanisa covered her hands with her face, her cheeks burning red. "I think... she stumbled into the Pleasure House."

“You did what?” Ocax’s mouth started to hang open, the corner of his mouth twitching with disbelief.

“I had to fight my way out! Oh Ocax! It was awful! I could have been taken into their cult, and pounded like a rag doll! Think about all the things they could have done to my body! And what’s worse, Seer is one of them! You should have seen it! His pale frame beat red from them just- just slamming into him! He was bloomed up like rip strawberries!”

"... you know the Pleasure House is all voluntary, for those who want a lover or are seeking companionship for a night." Kanisa tried to keep a straight face without giggling at Ocax's stunned expression. "For those who want a little spice, or adventure, or are just feeling lonely. We've all been there."

Ocax starred off into the night sky, dumbstruck by the information of Seer and Towa’s story.

Towa herself grew concerned with how quiet Ocax grew. “Ocax?”

“I think it’s best that you go stay somewhere else tonight while I talk to Seer.”

“What? Why?”

“Towa. You walked on him and caused a commotion in a pleasure house. People could have you reported for disturbing the peace.”

“Well the only one disturbed was me!”

“And slim chance that no one reports you, you might have been rude to our host. Go with Kanisa or find a house to stay at. I’ll talk with Seer and make sure he’s not angry with you.”

“You think he is?”

“I know I’m furious. You acted like a child. Again.”

“But Ocax…”

The Twili man held his hand up to stop her. “No. Just… no. I’ll go fix this. I just need you to stay out of the way.”

"You can bunk in Audlin's room for tonight; she's staying with some friends." Kanisa offered to Towa. "And next time, I really think you should ask where you are instead of assuming it's... something you think it is."

Mortified beyond all means, Seer sat in his chair by the fire. He never expected Towa to come to the Pleasure House. The Twili were here to study any sources of magic, not look for a romp in the sheets. Sighing, he honestly did not expect Towa or Ocax to return to his house. There had to be some elaborate story Towa spun to Ocax about the blind man being a sexual deviant.

Ocax walked in, giving a clear of his throat for Seer. “Mr. Serling. A moment?”

"... I'm surprised you're back."

“I was only described in great detail about you. I didn’t see it with my own eyes. And don’t worry, it was my job to pick apart false testimonies. Especially about you being in a ‘sex cult’ and such nonsense. She did give me a more accurate description of what you were doing though.”

"Oh good Handeh..." Seer felt the blood rushing to his face again, obviously embarrassed. "I... well... the Pleasure House..." He tried to think of a way to explain himself but could not find the words. "It was... just... a fling."

“How often do you have these flings?”

"... not too often. Maybe every other month or so." Seer admitted, knowing lying would get him nowhere. "It's nice to feel..."

“...wanted?”

"Yes." Seer sighed with his shoulders slumping. "The Pleasure House doesn't discriminate. It's all just a feeling to them."

“So what brought on your most recent need to go?”

"Just..." Seer did not want to say he was feeling lonely so he used the next best excuse. "Old memories. The nights of not only pleasure but warmth too."

“And you thought going to a pleasure house where no one actually cares for you would help with that?”

"It's better than nothing." Seer retorted dryly as he took a sip of his drink.

“Excuse me?” Ocax was taken aback by that. “Of course it’s better. Why stoop yourself to that level? Why not have the patience to find someone you actually like?”

"I did. I did have someone I liked." Seer had to grit his teeth. "He chose to follow someone else."

“Then get over him. Things don’t work out. You take time and reflection and you move on.”

"That's easy for you to say." Seer nearly snapped bitterly at Ocax. "He didn't betray you at the last minute either and cause one of your crew mates to die. It's not something you can reflect upon in a positive manner."

“You going to be a little bitter ass when Towa comes back too?” Ocax felt pity for this man, maybe even sympathy. “If you don’t move on, you’ll only be able to wallow in self pity.”

"You don't have to stay here and observe me in my pity if it disturbs you." Seer pointed in the direction of the door. "I'll move on when I damn well please."

“No.”

"No? No what?"

“No, I’m not leaving.” Ocax walked to kitchen and started to make two sandwiches.

"Hey!" Seer got up from his seat. "I told you to keep out of my kitchen! You're going to cut yourself again!"

“What can you do to stop me from making dinner? You’re physically blind. And full of mentally blinding anger. I can make as many sandwiches as I want.” Ocax carefully finished the touches on two raspberry and banana sandwiches.

"I know I can't fucking see, but I can still sense what you're doing and where things are." Seer growled. "I don't want you hurting yourself again. Get out of my kitchen. I may not like you telling me how to cope, though that doesn't mean I want you slicing your hand up."

Ocax shoved a plate aggressively in Seer’s chest. “I’m not going to make the same mistake. And this time you’re going to eat my cooking.”

Seer put the plate on the counter, stubborn. "I've already ate."

“I’m trying to be nice to you. Eat it.” Ocax got closer to Seer’s face, a snarl filling his expression. He wasn’t going to back down.

"I don't want it." Seer did not feel like arguing. He turned to leave Ocax in the kitchen much to his chagrin. This had already turned into a shitty day, and he decided the best way to forget was to sleep. "Give it to Towa. If she comes back."

Ocax grabbed Seer by the shoulders and pushed the man firmly into a chair. “Eating from the nether regions of man and women for dinner is not part of a nutritious meal. I like you. You’ve been hospitable in looking after Towa and I. I wouldn’t be giving advice, or risk cutting myself with your terrible handled knives making food if I didn’t. Eat my sandwich.”

Seer did not like such a rough handling by Ocax and nearly growled at the insensitive statement. Though, he was not prepared to hear that Ocax liked him. It caught the Direnor off guard for sure. But... it probably was not in the way he was thinking. No, it was just as friends, wasn't it? Hospitable, friendly, fixing them food... of course it was. With an irritated frown, Seer took the sandwich and bit off a sizable chunk.

“Thank you. Was that so difficult?” Ocax let go as he watched Seer eat. “Do you like it?”

"... it would be better with peanut butter for the banana's sweetness or chocolate drizzle to compliment the raspberry's tartness." Seer managed to say with a mouthful. "But it is tasty otherwise."

Ocax was growing frustrated. Towa’s story about Seer was flustering enough, but this argument with the man was driving him crazy. “Swallow. Then speak. I’m glad you find my taste enjoyable.”

"Better than 'eating dicks and pussies' as you put it so eloquently. Certainly more nutritious." Seer was mad at Ocax for trying to tell him how to cope, how to feel, and most of all, felt like he was being played with. Again. This was going to be Adda all over again if he wasn't careful. The Twili weren't going to stay here, they were going to leave, Ocax would leave just like Bakura. There was no need to get attached. Wanting a lover just brought heartache.

“Of course it is.” Ocax sat down. After a moment, he gave a laugh. “A sex cult of all things... Towa needs to get back home.”

"... back to the Twilight Realm."

“Yes. I love her like family. She’s the most determined to get back home. You saw her today. She heard one little rumour of an old hall holding ancient magical texts, and she stormed that brothel right away. She thought the pillars held secret etchings. I want her to be happy. I want her to stop having nightmares of never returning home. She’s the only one who’s spirit can’t be settled here.”

"And you're going back with her, aren't you?"

“I don’t think I will.”

"Why?" Seer asked Ocax, expecting a halfhearted answer. "Find some of those dark, shadowy clouds you liked here better?"

“I don’t know. I’ve been in this world for nearly thirty years. Those beautiful clouds are just a memory now. I think it would hurt too much to go back. To confirm the most likely scenario that my lover and my family has long since moved on. That the Twilight Realm might seem too small. This world is so diverse. And it’s changed for the better. I’m going to give Towa her door back to our ancestral home, but I don’t think I’ll join her. So many of the others have settled in this world. Why not me too?”

"... if you have a family there, would you really think they would forget about you?" Seer felt his chest tighten at the recollections of when he was trapped, away from his girls. It was so painful to be away from them. Often, he thought it would be best if the twins deemed him dead. That way, they would not be hurt looking for him.

“Yes.” Ocax sounded bitter, almost angry with one single word.

"And you would forget them?

“I don’t need to see them again if that’s what you’re asking. I had a clan. My clan already came from bad history, so expectations were high on me. Imagine how they felt when I rose to gain political power through my occupation in mastering the law over others. On top of that, I was homosexual, so I wasn’t going to ‘share’ my power with a new generation. I had my lover, but he was only interested in me due most likely to my stature. I had one father as my closest blood relative as far as I can remember. He didn’t like that I worked to put my own needs before the rest of the clan. They thought I was another Zant in the making. So yes, I could forget them.”

"...sometimes, I suppose in your family, they can be the ones to hurt you the most."

“I think this is best. Stay in this world, and fade away into obscurity.”

"Well... minus the fading away part, you could always find happiness here. New families wouldn't hurt, right?"

“No one wants a being of twilight. I doubt any Hylian or Direnor would given your history with ‘disgusting dark beings’.” Ocax shook his head, sighing in self pity. He regretted talking about this topic. “Do me a favour. Forget this conversation. We can simply move on from all the awkwardness.”

"That's the biggest load of whaleshit I've ever heard." Seer felt for Ocax's chest and then poked it. "Everyone has flaws. Everyone deserves happiness." He then added as an afterthought, "There's no awkwardness here. Everyone needs someone to talk to."

“What? To you?”

"Sure, everyone needs someone to talk to. To rant, to rave, to cry with, to laugh with... I mean, it's only human."

“If you could look at me you wouldn’t call me human...”

Seer once again found Ocax's chest with a bump of his fingers, and then used both hands to smack on the man's face. "You got a heart and a soul, it don't matter what you look like." He told him, "I can't see, but that doesn't matter to me. Physical appearance isn't everything. It's how that person acts, how they treat others around them, how they love... that's the key."

Ocax yelled out like a chicken, turning to Seer in shock. “And how do you think I’ve treated people?”

"Well... from what I know, you treat Towa pretty nice. You haven't been too cruel to me." Seer shrugged. "Kanisa seems to like you. So, that's good enough for me."

“Do you like me?” Ocax asked a direct question.

"Like you?" Seer repeated. "Like as a friend? Or something more?"

“Just a yes or a no.”

"Then yes, I do like you."

Ocax felt a flush in his heart and he leaned in to kiss Seer, his lips pushing fondly against the blind man’s own. Once he was done, he pulled back, embarrassment starting to consume him. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t ask for your consent. That was unprofessional.”

Now, it was Seer's turn to be red in the face. He was at a loss for words.

"I... I um..." He cleared his throat and tried to keep from squeaking. "I... don't have complaints."

“You should. You should be angry with me.”

"Why?"

“I-I kissed you out of the blue! That’s not right of me to take advantage of you like that.”

"You're not taking advantage of me. Taking advantage of me is manipulating me."

“I... you’re really not angry with me?” Ocax leaned back into his chair.

"No, I'm not. I mean, in case you haven't noticed, I'm bisexual. Men and women are nice." Seer chuckled a little at hearing the surprise in Ocax's voice. "Does that... help?"

“Yes?” Ocax felt his hands get sweaty, clenching the chair handles tightly. The floor boards shifted as he tapped his feet nervously.

"Then good." Seer acted like this was not much of a big deal. After all, he had sex with Adda and... well, that went bad. Very bad. Then there were a few men at the Pleasure House that he enjoyed. Though, a relationship? That was... rare. "You don't have to worry you know."

“Why? Because my nerves are spiking.”

"Why?" Seer actually tilted his head, confused. "I'm just me."

“No ones liked me as...” Ocax trailed off. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to leave?”

"Liked you as what? I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay and explain yourself." Seer told Ocax. "Look, we both have our flaws, faults, and insecurities. But that doesn't mean I won't try to be there for you."

“I’ve haven’t been a relationship since home. It wouldn’t be right for me to just come into your life and uproot it. I’m a gentlemen, but also a stranger. Given your history it would be rude of me to be your.... I won’t do that to someone like you. I’ve made an embarrassment of myself. I had my companion terrify you in your state of privacy, forced you to eat my cooking, and then forced a kiss without your consent. Now don’t you lie to me and tell me you enjoyed that. Let me just gather my things and I can spare you my presence from intruding on you any longer.”

Now it was Seer's turn to make a move. Ocax was rambling and assuming things, not to mention, the man was not listening to a word he said. Even if the Twili did decide to leave at some point, even if he did not want a relationship, there was a chance now for some pleasure and quality time with another being. So, to shut Ocax up, Seer pulled the man closer, pushed him to the floor, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. "Shut up." Seer told him gruffly between kisses. "You overthink too much."

Ocax held Seer’s shirt tightly, shocked by the kiss. His tongue was lathered by Seer’s, and he was left breathing heavily. “W-what are you going to do about it?”

"Oh, I know a number of things to do to shut another up." Seer told Ocax. "Unfortunate skills I learned from the brothel... but actually serve me well now when seeking a lover."

“Specifics.” Ocax leaned back on the floor as the Direnor kept him pinned by sitting on his hips.

"I can make you see stars with my mouth, my fingers, or my body... take your pick." Seer then shrugged his shoulders. "Unless you still wish to leave..."

Ocax’s hands pulled Seer by his hips to scoot his body closer to his face. With a slight shake of his hands and no words, he unbuckled Seer’s pants.

"Well, what do you know, you can be quiet for once." Seer teased as Ocax messed with his belt.

Ocax grumbled, trying to mess with Seers pants. Finally get the man’s cock out, it clapped against the Twili’s cheek. The smell was like a drug to Ocax. Its scent was old, but familiar. And one his brain was telling him he lacked for far too long.

"Impatient, are we?" Seer asked the Twili, running his fingers through Ocax's hair. "You know, the appropriate place for this is the bedroom, but if you have a kink for the floor, I won't protest."

“I would like to not be pinned to the floor....” When Seer dangled to close, Ocax licked the man’s rod. With a light moan of pleasure that filled him, he opened his mouth, sucking on the tip. He felt like a young man in love again.

"Do you want to pin me---fuck!!!" Seer was not expecting such eagerness from Ocax. Then again, he had no clue how long it had been for the Twili. "Oh, by the gods and goddesses, that's good..."

“It is?” Ocax only paused to ask, quickly sucking once more. He purred as Seer played with his hair.

"I could..." Seer took a deep inhale. "Use many... four letter words---holy shit... to describe it..."

Ocax keep sucking, pushing Seer deeper and deeper down his throat. His eyes bulged when he felt a hot, salt fill his mouth. Pulling out, the Twili coughed as dripped cum from his lips. It wasn’t much do to Seer’s previous sex a few hours before, but it was still strong.

Seer did not mean to achieve his release so quickly, but Ocax had a tongue that rivaled those expert lovers in the Pleasure House. Either that, or he was just overly sensitive. He nearly fell forward, if it was not for the table next to him. He had to grasp the wood tightly to keep from losing his balance. After such mind blowing pleasure, it was difficult for his knees not to shake or legs to give out from him.

“Oh my lord.” Ocax finished swallowing and rubbed his jaw. It was rather sore due to being out of practice.

"I don't really consider myself any type of 'lord' or 'duke' or 'knight', but if you insist..." Seer said in a cheeky tone, a wide grin across his face.

“Aren’t you happy.” Ocax leaned back, trying to catch his breath.

"I'll be happier when I get to return the favor." Seer suggested with a purr. "I have to find out what you like best; what is that one spot that will make you just writhe."

Ocax shivered as he pulled his pants down. He wanted to know too. “You want me to stand or do you want to take me here?”

"I can fuck you like an animal or you take me anyway you desire," Seer pulled Ocax forward by a strand of the long hair. "I'm not known for being gentle... but I can let you take the reins if you prefer to have control."

The thought of Seer ravaging him made Ocax giggle with anticipation. “You? Ravage me? Oh dear~”

"Think I won't?" Seer asked Ocax as he curled his fingers tightly into the man's hair and pulled him closer, giving a long lick up the side of his cheek.

“I think I need you to stop talking with words, and instead demonstrate with action.”

"Safe word?"

Ocax thought it over for a moment. “Midna.” Might be disrespectful, but it was the first unique thing Ocax could think of.

"Midna it is." Seer gave no warning as he suddenly spun Ocax around and had the man halfway over on the table. The plates and cups clattered in protest at the harsh movement. While Seer did detest his time as a slave in the brothel, he did learn some tricks to cause his partner to see stars. First, it was feather light touches down Ocax's back. He had to get the man anticipating the pleasure, craving it. Little nips and kisses here and there were sure to stimulate the nerves of his body. Second, it was ghosting with touches near his hole, but never quite touching there or his length. He wanted Ocax to show his impatience, feel his body twitch with need. It was a sweet torment.

Ocax was out of practice. His time away from the touch of another man made him sensitive at every touch. The bites made red hot marks on his pale skin. Growling, he wished he wasn’t so desperate. “What are you waiting for?”

At the snarky growl, Seer pushed Ocax's face flat against the table.

"You'll get my dick when I say you can." For a small 'punishment' of sorts, Seer smacked Ocax's ass. "Now... are you going to be good?"

“Oh my lord!” Ocax bawked like a chicken once more. His mouth nearly watered at Seer’s forcefulness.

"I'll take that as a yes." Seer then rubbed his fingers over Ocax's entrance before slipping on inside, curling it upward.

Ocax threw his head up, pleasure and pain sending a shock up his spine and to his head. To his embarrassment, he came almost immediately. His cock spread its seed under the table. “Oh FUCK!”

"Reduced you to four letter words, I see..." Seer chuckled as he inserted another finger, making sure to wiggle the digits wildly.

“Shut uuuuuuuuooooooooooooooh goooooooood.” Ocax rolled a hand down his face. “Stop teasing…”

"Why? I may not be able to see you squirm, but I can certainly feel it," Seer whispered to Ocax. "The way your breathing picks up, the way you jerk, the way the dishes on the table rattle..."

Ocax couldn’t stop moving to disprove Seer. With a low, sounding cry, the Twili begged. “Please. It’s been too long. Give me what I crave.”

"A please? That's what I wanted to hear." Seer decided he'd reserve greater teasing for the next time of lovemaking. After all, he had a tendency to 'play' with his lovers. It usually brought both parties great pleasure. For now, he lined up his cock with Ocax's entrance and gently started to press inside of his lover. While he did love to be a tease, he did not care for pain.

Ocax gripped the edge of the table, his asshole burned from Seer’s girth, but he endured. His cock started to get hard again. “Keepittogether. Hell on earth, keep it together.”

"Who said you had to keep it together?" Seer draped himself over Ocax's back, running one hand down the man's throat while the other gripped at his length. "There's no need to keep control... lose it and feel bliss."

Ocax did as Seer suggested, and his mind threw itself into the abyss. The Twili man screamed, rocking his back into Seer.

Lovemaking was usually gentle but a rut was rough. Seer had many ruts in his lifetime, but was not complaining about the pleasure it brought, only the company. Now, he actually had someone who interested him, beneath him in the throws of passion. Gripping Ocax's shoulders, Seer barely allowed Ocax any room to wiggle away from his unrelenting thrusts.

“Seer! Oh Seer! Fuck! Fuck I’m-“

“Ocax is that-HOLY SHIT!” Towa stumbled in through the door, alerted by the noise. She hugged the wall behind her as she watched Ocax bent over the table.

Ocax came at the worst time, and as he tried to wiggle free in a panic, Seer hit the wrong spot. “AH-MIDNA! MIDNA!”

“WHY WOULD YOU SAY HER NAME IN THIS CONTEXT!?!”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?!!”

“I CAME TO GET MY TOOTHBRUSH! SEER REALLY IS A SEX ADDICT!!!”

Ocax tried to stand, but a spike of pain hit him. “GET OUT! I HATE YOU! HE’S NOT A SEX ADDICT!!!”

“OK! OK!!!”

Towa ran off, leaving Ocax panting over the table from sex and anger.

At Ocax's sudden jerk upward, the back of his head hit Seer in the nose causing the blind man to give an unsightly yelp and stumble backwards. Between Towa's yelling and Ocax stridently shouting the safe word, all Seer knew was their rut had been interrupted. After Towa left, the Direnor tried to keep his groans to a minimum. He felt blood on his palm, but was a little more concerned by the shouting match that took place.

"... are you all right?" Seer asked as he felt around for the pants.

“No. I’m pissed.” Ocax couldn’t find the strength to pull himself up.

"At me or Towa?"

“What? You think I could be-?” Ocax groaned as he turned himself around. Grabbing Seer by the hand, he pulled the man to him, kissing him close. “You were magnificent.”

"I thought perhaps I hurt you. I apologize if I did." Seer smiled at the smooch and returned an affectionate nuzzle. "It's hard to be gentle sometimes. I'm not used to it, if that makes sense."

“I understand. Do you wish to simply sleep the rest of the night together?”

"If that is what you desire." Seer then said, "My bed is not as large as others, but I do not mind snuggling. My girls used to crawl into bed with me all the time when it was really cold."

“As long as they don’t do so now.” Ocax sighed contently. “Thank you for opening up to me.”

"I don't have much to offer, but I do have love." Seer told Ocax as he shut the front door and led the man into his bedroom. "Orcas take care of their own and look after one another. Come on," He crawled into the bed, making room for Ocax. "Get warm."

________________________________________________________________

Partner is @ridersoftheapocalypse

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/186973802976/blue-stream-ch-3-foreign-negotiations

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/188307062666/blue-stream-ch-5-alls-well-that-ends-well

#My fault taking forever to edit #Crossover story!#ridersoftheapocalypse #Seer #Ocax #Towa #Twili #Direnor #Revy #Seija #Gerudo #Gets pretty Rainbow up in here.

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millies-theme · 6 years

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I’ve had this in my drafts for a week it is time for it to see the light

The room was - Well, the room was small. Admittedly, Mini had only ever been in Lucy's “room”, which in reality was just a lean-to that Lucy kept her meager belongings in. Majesty could've touched the ceiling if he had stood up, or Mini if she stood on Lu's back, while Lu stood on Majesty's back. There was a single bed at toward the back, and shelves up above Mini's head. “Alright, here's the plan. I have people I need to go talk to. You two can either stay here, or find something to do in town.” Majesty said, sniffing a pair of decorative statues. “As long as you don't head into the bad parts of town, no one will hurt you. Should hurt you.” He explained, sitting down. “Eh, as long as you either tell me or Chia when you leave, it doesn't matter.” Mini looked over to her friend, hoping that she'd have bounced back by now. If anything, the usually hyper digimon looked more panicked. “I guess we'll stay here for now.” “Got it. I don't have a map, but, if you do decide to leave, Downtown should be safe, but don't go to the outskirts of the town.” Mini nodded.

“Got it. 'downtown' is alright, but outside isn't.” Mini said, making air quotes. Majesty nodded. “Not until you're as big as I am.” He mumbled after a moment, a sad smile on his face. “Well, I'll see you too later. Days are longer here than they are in your zone, so if you get tired don't hesitate to come back and take a nap. I'll drop some coins off with Chia, so if you get hungry or thirsty here just ask her for something.” Majesty continued, standing back up and walking towards the door. “And- Lucy?” Lucy made a small huffing noise from her side of the room. “Sorry I snapped. There's a few coins on the shelf if you want to head out later.” With another flick of his tail, Majesty exited the room. <hr> Mini sat on the bed, facing Lucy. “Are you gonna keep being mad?” She asked, smoothing out a lump on the blanket. “Yes.” “....You wanna do something?” “No.” “Lucy, c'mon. We gotta do something. Even if it's getting a drink.” “Nope.” “....fine, I'm gonna go down stairs. Sit here and sulk.” Mini said, hopping off the bed. Lucy didn't reply, her head lowering as she curled up into a tighter ball. <hr> The inn's main room wasn't packed, but there were still a few tables with people. In one corner someone was drinking something out of several tiny cups, while in another a Gazimon was talking with a friend. The chatter easily fell into the background; It was... comforting. She was used to background noises. It had been odd, those first few nights with Majesty. Far, far too quiet. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, scanning the room. Chia was still at the counter, cleaning more cups. Noticing the motion near the stairs, she looked up. She smiled, giving a small wave. Mini hunkered down and crossed the floor quickly; One of the patrons looked up as she pattered across the floor, and quickly went back to their drink. Once she reached the bar, she jumped up on the bar stool, cursing her small stature as she scrambled up the leather seat. “Didn't expect to see you again so soon.” Chia smiled, pulling another mug out. “Come down for a drink?” She asked, setting it down. Mini nodded. “Mostly to explore, but a drink would be nice too.” “I can't offer you any ale – I'd lose my license if anyone found out I was giving it to children – but I've got some sodas and hot chocolate.” She said. “Soda?” Mini asked, blinking. “So you do not have any sodas out in the Green Zone?” Chia asked, turning around and pulling a bottle out from underneath the mirrored cabinet. “Nope. We have water?” Mini said, shaking her head. “and... more water. And grass.” “I recall a little bit of my time in the Green Zone, back when I was younger than you. Lots of Minumarmons. Don't see a ton of them today.” “Minumarmons? Were you-” “A part of their pack? No dear, Chikimon aren't related to Minumons in anything other than being dragons.” “oh.” Chia pushed the soda towards Mini, taking up another mug to clean.

“It's bubbly, and sweet.” She explained as Mini pulled the top off. Mini sniffed the top, wrinkling her nose. She took a small sip, and grimaced. “Too much?” “No, It's just... weird.” Mini said, taking another sip. “So... where's Lucy at?” “She's sulking. It's really weird because she's usually only upset for like, four minutes.” Chia shrugged. “Some people process grief strangely. I know I struggled when my caretaker died. Just be glad she's not punched anyone.” “She yelled at Majesty.” Chia shrugged again. “She'll be fine in a few days. Er. Weeks.... Who knows how long. She just needs time to process what happened. Deep down she's still Lucy.” Mini stared at her reflection in the bottle. “Yeah. It just sucks to see her upset.... Did Majesty tell you what happened?” She asked after a moment. “I don't think I told you.” Chia nodded. “Majesty explained what happened back there before he left. Truth be told, I'm very surprised he intervened. I've seen him waltz away from other's fights before.” Chia resumed cleaning a glass, staring off at one of the clocks on the wall. “He's always been so... rough and tumble. Even when we were kids – we grew up a the same time – he would pick fights with the others, and to begin with he'd always get trounced. After a while he'd win every fight he fought against those his size. He moved onto the bigger kids and eventually started beating them as well. And at that point he kinda... started drifting off.” Chia seemed to be lost in thought; She'd stopped cleaning the cup, and was just staring at the wall. “And one day.. One day he got into a big fight... He lost his eye, and got that nasty scrape across his muzzle. He.... left soon after that, and I didn't see him for quite a while after that.... He didn't even say good bye.” She set the cup down, and leaned over the counter. “He's scared that he's never going to be strong enough. Hopefully someday he'll get it through his thick head that that's not the case.”

#oc #digifake #digimon #story #original character

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johnnymundano · 5 years

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The House by the Cemetery (AKA Quella villa accanto al cimitero) (1981)

Directed by Lucio Fulci

Written by Dardano Sacchetti, Giorgio Mariuzzo and Lucio Fulci

Music by Walter Rizzati

Country: Italy

Language: Italian

Running Time: 88 minutes

CAST

Catriona MacColl as Lucy Boyle (credited as Katherine MacColl)

Paolo Malco as Dr. Norman Boyle

Ania Pieroni as Ann (babysitter)

Giovanni Frezza as Bob Boyle

Silvia Collatina as Mae Freudstein

Dagmar Lassander as Laura Gittleson

Giovanni De Nava as Dr. Freudstein

Daniela Doria as the first female victim

Gianpaolo Saccarola as Daniel Douglas

Carlo De Mejo as Mr. Wheatley

Kenneth A. Olsen as Harold (credited as John Olson)

Elmer Johnsson as the Cemetery Caretaker

Ranieri Ferrara as a victim

Teresa Rossi Passante as Mary Freudstein

Lucio Fulci as Professor Mueller (uncredited)

The House by the Cemetery is a disjointed 1980’s schlocker by the entertainingly inconsistent Italian director Lucio Fulci. As movies go, it’s terrible. As Lucio Fulci movies go, it’s quite good. As horror movies go, it’s kind of for diehards only; not because it’s so harrowing (it isn’t) but because you need to forgive its many, many failings in order to enjoy it. It’s not for everyone, but then what is, besides death. Appropriately enough for a house by a cemetery there’s plenty of death in The House by The Cemetery, so much in fact that several of the characters are in fact dead to start with. Ghosts then, except for the guy in the cellar with a head like a burn scarred testicle.

Of course this cellar is in The House by the Cemetery, and of course our expendable family move in. Lucy (Catriona MacColl; good) is a mum ,and the ‘70s not really having ended yet in 1981, that’s about all she gets to play with. Norman (Paolo Malco; not bad), her husband is an academic studying (something I either missed or which is less than explicitly stated). Whatever he’s studying it has a high mortality rate (it’s probably Sociology; tough gig that). See, Norman’s colleague, Dr Peterson, murdered his wife and hung himself, while studying (mumble mumble) at the house by the cemetery. Norman and his family move into the house (by the cemetery; that’s important) to complete Dr Peterson’s research into (cough cough). Even before they leave the city, Bob (Giovanni Frezza), their small son, is having spooky experiences which I feel legally obliged to state in no way suggest someone has been watching The Shining (1980) and taking notes. In many ways The House by the Cemetery is like The Shining, but The Shining written not by Stephen King, but by a glue huffing Guy N Smith.

Wait, I think Norman is researching the house itself (?), because there’s a lot of talk in libraries about a one time resident Dr Freudstein (yes, really; I know, I know) who killed his family back in Victorian times. A kind of academic boon for Norman’s researches then is that Dr Freudstein (I mean, wow, that name...just wow) is actually still in the basement, kind of dead but kept mobile due to his non-specific “experiments”, when he isn’t doing those he presumably sits very quietly in the basement. The perfect tenant then, except every now and again he’ll come up and stab someone repeatedly with a poker, or saw through their neck or stab them in the head. Obviously no one would want to live in a house where defrosting the fridge could be suddenly interrupted by a maniac with a cheese melt face ripping your throat out. So, cunningly, the realtor (Dagmar Lassander; angry and confused alternately) just never mentions this offal faced tenant, or even the fact the basement is boarded up. But then it seems to be boarded up with magic nails because old face ache nips in and out smoother than a teenager sneaking down for a midnight snack. Mind you, I’m not sure the realtor knows what’s going on, she seems quite surprised when the man with a boiled arse for a face starts stabbing her really slowly with a poker. So maybe no one know he’s there? Which makes precisely no sense.

But, unlike scarlet corn syrup and maggots, sense is in short supply in The House by the Cemetery. I mean, the cemetery isn’t just by the house; some of it’s actually in the house. There’s a tomb stone inlaid into the ground floor. Because, reasons. Unfortunately, it is established that there is a huge basement under the house so that makes no sense. A lot of this illogicality is intentional as Fulci’s obviously going for a dream-like state, and every now and again that works; dream logic is light on sense and nightmare logic doubly so. Creepy child trapped in photograph, shop window dummy prefiguring death by decapitation, a kid playing hide and seek with a ghost, these are all flesh crawlingly good fun. The problem is that this dream logic saturates every scene, even the mundane stuff, so the whole thing just ends up bafflingly irrational.

People wander about ostensibly doing normal things but none of it makes much sense. At one point the nanny, Anna (who is played by Ania Pieroni as though she is possessed, for no clear reason), is cleaning up a massive blood trail in the kitchen when Lucy, not unsurprisingly, asks what she’s doing. Anna stares at her like she’s on a crack high and the conversation moves on. Lucy apparently is more used than I am to massive blood trails in the kitchen. About half way through the movie you realise you have no idea why any of what’s happening is happening, or even why any of the characters are where they are, or doing what they are doing. The only thing you are sure of is several of them have died violently at the hands of someone with an inside out face, and before moving into a house you should always check the basement.

To be fair to The House by the Cemetery, the version I saw was dubbed and this dubbing was just terrible. Just bloody awful stuff. It was so terrible it did the cast no favours whatsoever. The kid, Bob, is largely irritating because of the dubbing, which sounds like a someone doing a shrill impersonation of Little Lord Fauntleroy. When he’s allowed to act without speaking he’s remarkable, largely because in those bits he looks shit scared out of his wits. Seriously, he looks pretty genuinely distressed, I hate to imagine what they were putting him through. I’m sure he shows up in the jeep at the end of Demons (1985), so clearly he survived the filming experience. Basically, The House by the Cemetery is probably a much better experience viewed with subtitles, but I doubt even that would actually catapult it into “good”. It is, however, very enjoyable and a great deal of fun, with some really quite nifty direction by Fulci. Bonus: contains a fantastically ridiculous bat attack.

#The House by the Cemetery #Movies #Horror #Italy #Lucio Fulci #Catriona MacColl #Paolo Malco #Giovanni Frezza #1981 #The 1980s #Quella villa accanto al cimitero

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lickstynine · 6 years

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Misadventures of Kit: Chapter Thirteen

written with @ocsickficsideblog

Kit had expected being back at Alistair’s to be more pleasant. While it was certainly an improvement to not be prodded by medical staff at all hours, he still felt more like a patient than a guest. Alistair was forcing him to eat six small meals a day (the doctor said that would be easier than three big ones), hovering and fussing outside the door whenever he used the bathroom, and making sure he kept up with the daily journaling his shrink had tasked him with.

As much as he loved his cousin, Kit was getting properly fed up with Alistair, and he had even less patience for all the shit his cousin was making him do. He was sitting on the couch glaring at his lunch when his phone buzzed, and Kit gladly set the fork aside to check it. He couldn’t help being a little excited when he saw it was from Siofra.

What are you doing this weekend?

I don’t think I’m doing anything. He texted back. Why?

I have a gig at a local pub. You should come. Bring your idiot cousin if you want, but don’t let him embarrass us.

Kit snickered quietly at his phone. Will do. Where is it?

Siofra sent him the location, and Kit scribbled it into his notebook.

I’ll be there.

Great! See you then.

“What’re you giggling at?” Alistair asked. “Eat your food.”

“Siofra invited me to a show this weekend.” Kit replied, huffing in annoyance as he picked his fork back up. He poked at the chicken thigh on his plate, not very interested in it.

“What, to see her band? I don’t think I want you going out alone.”

Kit huffed in annoyance. “First of all, it’s in a pub, not a back alley. Second of all, she said you could come.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want me there?” Alistair said, slightly icily.

The older boy flinched. “Why would I not?”

“You act like you can’t stand me recently, scowling and huffing whenever I walk into the room,” Alistair spat, pacing agitatedly like a tiger. Kit’s flinch hurt him - most of him wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him and hold him - but his recent behaviour was starting to remind Alistair of his own parents. They’d always sighed and rolled their eyes when he came into the room, shoving him away when he was still young and hopeful enough to go for a cuddle - “Go away, Alistair. You’re not wanted here.”

Kit cringed, withering into the corner of the couch. “It’s not like that! It’s not you! I just hate being babied and hovered over. It’s not that it’s you doing it…” he hid his face in his hands, feeling ashamed for being such a grumpy ass.

Alistair hovered anxiously, so close to running to him - but that doubt stung at the back of his mind, sharp as venom. “You promise? It’s not me who’s annoying you? You don’t wish someone else was looking after you?”

“No! Who else would? You’re all I have, Al. I just… I feel pathetic that I need so much caretaking…” Kit sighed.

Alistair ran to him, hugging him tight. “You don’t need that much. I just need to make sure you eat. I don’t have to wipe your arse or wash you or entertain you. You’re pretty low-maintenance.”

Kit managed a weak laugh at that. “Now you're making me sound like a pet. Will you put me on a leash when we go out?”

“Save that for Siofra, you kinky shit.”

Kit went red, though he laughed. “I barely know her!”

“Well, she’s inviting you out! Where are we going then?”

“Um, it's a pub. Not one I've been to before. Do you recognize the address?” Kit showed Alistair his phone.

“I know the town, can’t be too hard to find it from there,” Alistair said.

“I’ll have Taddy take us.” Kit decided. He hadn’t seen his chauffeur in ages - he needed to apologize, anyway.

“Jules has been keeping him updated about you,” Alistair said gently, seeing the guilt on Kit’s face.

Kit looked surprised. “He has?”

“Oh yeah. He likes Taddy. He even called him last time we argued.” Alistair rolled his eyes. “That was fucking awkward.”

Now Kit was smiling again, snickering and grinning. “Did he really?”

“Yep,” Alistair groaned. “He was crying too. I bet Taddy thought I was a real prick.”

“Taddy knows you.” Kit reminded him. “He likely just thought you were an idiot.”

“It wasn’t a serious fight, anyway. We don’t really have those. We just have stupid ones about getting pancakes stuck to the ceiling and Jules always untying my boot laces even though I left them tied for a reason and he doesn’t need to obsessively untie them,” Alistair ranted.

“Wait, hold on.” Kit ignored his cousin’s complaining. “You got pancakes stuck to the ceiling?”

“Okay, it was an accident! I just tossed it too enthusiastically.”

Kit nearly snorted laughing. “How do you get that overenthusiastic?”

“I just wanted it to go up high, like you see chefs do on TV,” Alistair grumbled. “And the bloody thing just went slap on the ceiling and stuck there, and I had to scrape it off and it’s left this big greasy mark on the paint.”

Kit had to steady his plate so he wouldn’t kick it off his lap cackling. “Good lord….”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “I’m sure the fucking ceilings are low…”

“Why are you even allowed in the kitchen?” Kit shook his head, continuing to chuckle as he cut off a tiny bite of chicken. He paused. “You didn’t make this, did you?”

“No. Last time I made Jules chicken he got food poisoning super bad.” He sighed, flopping back on the sofa. “I felt terrible. Why am I so useless at everything, Kit?”

Kit rolled his eyes. “You’re not useless at everything. You’ve been taking care of me well, save for the cooking aspect.”

“At least you tell me if it’s gross. Jules eats it all and then throws up all night. It makes me feel like I’m a toddler and he’s pretending to eat my plasticine food. Making all those yum-yum baby noises you do,” Alistair said, sighing.

“That’s not your fault. Julie is too soft for his own good.”

“I know. I told him that. I’ve stopped him watching the news because he gets depressed and cries all evening.”

“Sounds about right.” Kit chuckled and shook his head, just now cutting a second bite of chicken. He wasn’t just not hungry, he was trying to avoid the task to follow: journaling.

“You take a long time to eat, Kit,” Alistair sighed.

“It’s hard. This is my third meal of the day, and I didn’t even want the first.” Kit huffed.

“You need to eat. You need to live. I need you to live,” Alistair said, his voice quieter. He’d been wetting the bed again since Kit tried to commit suicide, much to his horror - and Kit couldn’t help noticing, of course. It didn’t matter how many times Alistair was told that it was a very common problem with abused children, he still burned with humiliation if anyone touched on it.

Kit slunk down in his seat, stabbing his chicken more purposefully as he cut another bite. “Sorry…” he mumbled, staring at his plate to avoid eye contact.

Alistair wrapped his arms around Kit’s neck. “Sorry. Don’t force yourself to do it fast. I just want to get this right.”

“Then maybe loosen your grip. I can’t eat if I’m being choked.” Kit was clearly just teasing - Alistair had (gradually) gotten better at not death-hugging him.

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Shut up, or I’ll make you dinner tonight. It’d be tough to eat that.”

“I’ll be sure to aim at you when I vomit.” Kit grinned. He did his best to eat the rest of his lunch in a timely manner, though he was clearly struggling to finish the last quarter of the chicken. He was cutting it into smaller and smaller pieces, and taking longer to chew each bite and pick up the next one.

“Does cutting it up small like that actually help?”

Kit sighed. “Not really.”

“You should just stuff it all in. Get it over with. Like when Violet dared me to eat that worm when we were kids.”

Kit wasn't sure whether to laugh or retch. “Talking about eating worms isn't making me want to finish my meal.”

“Sorry.” Alistair grinned. “Chicken doesn’t taste that bad. From what I remember.”

“It isn't bad at all.” Kit said, “I'm just not hungry.”

“Your body is though, or whatever that nutritionist said. Imagine your job being telling underweight people to eat. Must be depressing.”

Now Kit just felt guilty, staring awkwardly down at his plate as he chewed the last bite of chicken. “Yeah, must be.”

“Oh, don’t pull that face. I was just thinking out loud.” He poked Kit’s cheek. “Smile.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair sighed. “I just want you to be happy.”

“If you want me to be happy, don't make me write in my stupid journal again.” Kit grumbled.

“But your psych said you need to. I thought you liked writing to Auntie,” Alistair said.

“I like writing when I'm in the mood. Not because some shrink says I need to.”

“Look, I’ll do it with you,” Alistair suggested.

Kit looked up at him. “You will?”

“Yeah, of course. It that makes it easier.”

“I think it will, yeah.” Kit nodded gratefully. “Gather up my writing things, and I'll put away my plate.”

“I haven’t spoken to Auntie in ages. We’ve got to catch up,” Alistair said, messing with one of Kit’s posh fountain pens.

Kit knew his cousin was trying to be funny, so he forced a smile. “Please be careful with that pen. I doubt Julie wants ink all over the carpets.”

“There’s ink all over me,” Alistair said, peering at the black marks on his fingers. “I’m using my art pens instead.”

“You’re only getting ink on you because you’re handling the pen wrong. But yes, use your own pen. Please.” Kit mumbled. He was twirling his pen in his fingers, anxious to actually start.

“This is weird,” Alistair mumbled. “We can acknowledge it’s weird.”

“You’re weird.” Kit huffed.

“You’re weird. Okay, I’m just going to start by saying hi…”

Kit nodded, picking up his own pen and starting to write. It wasn't hard to start, but once he did, he always got a little too into it. He hunched over the page, scribbling away like his life depended on it.

Alistair took a more light hearted approach, scribbling small doodles every so often to illustrate his news, sometimes swaying into a graphic novel format before starting to write again. Kit sat up as his page grew full, looking over at his cousin.

“Are you drawing?”

“Yeah?” Alistair said. “Why not? I’m illustrating. I’m still telling the story.”

“Just curious.” Kit shrugged, “I've never felt compelled to illustrate a letter before.”

“I illustrate all mine. If we ever need to correspond by letter, I’ll illustrate.”

“It'd be strange to write with you…” Kit mused.

“It would?”

“Well, first there'd be the challenge of deciphering your handwriting.” Kit grinned.

Alistair nudged him, grinning back. “You sound like my teachers!”

“And then there's making sense of your spelling.”

“I spell things phonetically, just sound it out.” Alistair said.

“Are you seven?” Kit teased, going back to his own letter.

“Mentally. What’re you writing about then?”

“Just what's happened lately.” Kit shrugged. “you can see when I'm done if you like.”

“Okay, thanks. You can see mine too.”

Kit nodded, pausing and tapping his pen on his chin as he pondered. Alistair didn’t ever stop to think, scribbling stuff as it entered his head, adding lots of drawings, mostly quick comical sketches or little caricatures. Kit went back to his page after a moment, jotting down a few more sentences.

“Okay... I think I'm done.”

“Me too,” Alistair mumbled, chewing on his pen lid. “This is actually quite good… I see why they make you do it.”

Kit nodded, offering Alistair his letter to trade. Alistair handed Kit his own considerably messier letter, holding it carefully, not wanting to stain it with his inky fingers.

My Dearest Mother,

I've been doing better lately. I think keeping Al around has helped. I get so low when I'm lonely, but I can bother him to talk at any hour.

I still feel bad about how it ended with Elle, but I've met up with the girl from the pub and I really like her. She's Irish, like you. She has the loveliest hair, it's almost a rose gold colour, shiny and wavy and all the way to the small of her back. She plays violin and sings in a band with her brothers - she invited me to their next show.

I’m still staying at Al’s to avoid Father. The Christmas party is coming, I don't know what I'll do. I can’t not go, but last year was already sour, with Violet mad at me, and now…

I suppose I'll deal with that as it comes. Maybe I can invite Siofra (the girl I'm seeing). She's so brave and strong, I think I'd feel safer with her there. Yes. I think I'll invite her. Wish me luck.

All of my Love, Kit

Kit moved closer to the lamp, struggling to read without a proper light.

Dear Auntie, That sounds so weird and formal, doesn’t it? What a silly way to start a letter, we wouldn’t be talking like that in real life. Anyway, I don’t really know how to begin. Hi. It’s Alistair after all this time, though I promise I didn’t stop thinking of you.

Lots of stuff happened over the years. Lots of dumb family stuff, you know what they’re like.

Here there was a drawing of Reggie as a grizzly bear and Howard as a doting Lefou following him around.

Grandfather didn’t give Mother any inheritance, which was pretty funny, but she wouldn’t let me see Kit for a long time. But we met up again when I was nineteen (and was completely astounded by the change in him, he looks like a pretty tattooed you).

He’d drawn a picture of Kit looking all bright and glossy next to a scruffy looking Alistair with a tiny bird nesting in his tangled hair.

There’s been lots of messy parts. I really really wanted you there for lots of it, because you always had a way of making things better. I seem to have a knack for making stuff worse - but at least Kit is talking to me now. I don’t mind when he wakes me up at night, it’s progress.

He’d drawn a softer picture of himself and Kit cuddled up together, sharing a blanket.

I send my love to wherever you are. Not heaven, I know you didn’t believe in it. I like to think you hover over Kit like a guardian angel. Maybe you’ll see me then, and my fiancé. He’d have loved you.

I think I’ll write more of these letters with Kit. It’s almost like talking to you. Just know that I love you and miss you too, and I remember everything you told me to remember (see, I was listening!). And I’ve still got Sally.

Love, Alistair.

He’d drawn a little picture of Sally in the corner, looking beaten up and bedraggled.

Kit hadn't expected to be so stricken by a letter. He thought it might have been the illustrations - the little drawings all seemed to have so much love put into them, especially the ones of him. He couldn't bring himself to set it down, pressing it to his chest despite the perilous inkinesss of the page. He sniffled, trying to contain himself, but when he dared peek at the letter again, he started crying properly.

Alistair shuffled over and hugged him tight, his head close to Kit’s. “I can come to your party with you if you’re worried. I’ll dress up and behave and everything.”

“Are you sure?” Kit blinked away tears, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t want you stuck alone with your father and Violet.”

“I was… I was going to invite Siofra…” Kit mumbled, not sounding too confident in the idea anymore.

“Well, you can invite her too. But would your father like her? Well, I know he doesn’t like me either, but would he like her less?”

“I think she’d have the common sense to behave politely. She’s a firecracker, but she’s not an idiot.”

“Yeah, but your father would moan about her being common,” Alistair said, rolling his eyes.

“But you’re common because you got disowned. I’m not sure if that’s worse or not…” Kit mused.

Alistair snorted. “That makes me common? I was common way before that.”

“Then that makes you double common, so you’re definitely worse.” Kit grinned.

Alistair smiled too, hugging Kit. “That letter writing… It’s nice. I see why you’ve been doing it all these years.”

Kit nodded. “The idea of a regular diary always seemed stupid to me. I’m not Anne Frank, it won’t be published. I needed someone to write to so I could focus my thoughts.”

“I’m glad you’re not poor old Anne Frank. And I’m glad you can still stay connected to Auntie like this.”

“Yeah. I… yeah. I just… it hurts… To know I’ll never get a reply.”

Alistair nodded sadly. “Maybe...maybe she knows though. Maybe she really is watching over you.” He sounded unusually hopeful.

Kit looked like he might cry again, but he nodded. “Yeah… maybe.”

#nanowrimo #misadventures of Kit #chapter thirteen #kit #raycraft #alistair #julius #collab #ocsickficsideblog #drama of the big gay #angst #emotional h/c #emotional whump #tw suicide mention

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