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paigeandsagesstuff · 2 years

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I’ll Come Back For You

Song: “Wait” by M38

POV: It’s 1945 and you’re an American living in Poland. You help the allies whenever you can, and you met Sergeant Austin Butler.

Warning: p in v, unprotected sex (triple wrap that shit y’all), fingering, clit rubbing

♡ Thank you for your support! ♡

Inspired by the scene between Emma and Norman in Fury.

Master List Babes💋

The soldiers sat around your table laughing as you and your cousin, C/N, prepared a meal for them.

You looked over your shoulder to meet Austin's eyes and his blue eyes that were boring holes into your head and body. You felt something stir within you, and you looked back into the stew you were making as you felt yourself blush.

It was two hours ago when the group of soldiers and their Sergeant Austin Butler entered your flat. It was 1945, and you were an American that moved to Poland to live with your father's side before the war. Since Germany invaded years ago, you helped the allies by giving them food and blankets. So you're frequently with soldiers after word has gone around of your kind heart.

You met the handsome Sergeant Butler four years ago, and he made you feel things you never did. Though, he often got on your nerves with his wolffish grin and arrogant voice.

C/N walked away to place bowls on the table as you were putting spices in the pot.

"Y/N," a voice said behind you, and you felt his arm on his chest against your back.

"Sergeant Butler," you tried to hide a smile and push the butterflies away.

His arm reached to grab a bowl, "Just grabbing a bowl."

Austin walked away, and you felt yourself about to breathe. You turned off the burner and grabbed a towel to bring the pot to the table, and placed it in the center.

"I hope everyone likes stew." You smiled and sat with Austin, who placed his arm behind your back. C/N handed a basket of bread to you, and you took one, set it next to your bowl, and met Austin's stare as you gave him the basket.

"What?" You sheepishly said, and thankfully her cousin and the soldiers were busy talking to notice you and Austin. He smirked with a toothpick between his lips and pulled it out to grab the bread.

"Nothing, doll," he winked.

You rolled your eyes and started to eat your meal. The dinner was full of laughter and funny stories before the war. Of course, there were stolen glances by you and Austin, well mostly him, as you felt his eyes on you.

The boys insisted they clean up after dinner, and Austin cleaned the last bowl. Dan and Luke, the goofballs of the group, came back to eye you up.

"What?" You laughed, face becoming red from their attention.

"You're just a beautiful dame, Y/N," Dan smiled, and Luke elbowed him. "What? She's beautiful to me!"

"Speak for yourself because I have my gorgeous polish woman," he grinned and hooked his arm around C/N's neck to kiss her cheek.

"I'm American, though," you meekly said but were overshadowed by C/N giggling.

Luke beamed at C/N, who was sheepishly looking at her lap. You smiled at the sight of the couple as you felt a hand on your shoulder, and it was Derek, Austin's second command, "Y/N, we could share a bed if you want?"

You rolled your eyes at him and shook off his hand. The men watched, and some told Derek to knock it off, and he said, "Well, I need someone to warm my bed."

The men stopped talking when heavy boots walked over to you, and a firm grip was on your wrist. "Come with me.”

You looked up to see it was Austin with fire in his eyes, and you frowned at him. "Go where?"

"It wasn't a question," he lowered his face to meet your eyes, "but an order."

You quickly got up and let him take you to your room, where he nudged you in and turned to his men, mostly to Derek.

"Y/N will be keeping me warm tonight," he said and slammed the door to lock it after. You stood there in shock and backed away when he turned to you, "don't be afraid."

"Afraid? I'm horrified how you dragged me in here and proclaimed that I'll be keeping you warm!" You said while walking up to Austin, raising your hand to slap him, which he caught by your wrist.

"Careful doll, as I might not be so nice."

You scoffed and yanked your hand away, "You are a jackass, Sergeant Butler."

"Well, you're no walk in the park either, Miss L/N," he said in your ear and walked past you to sit on your bed. You gasped at him and twirled in your floral F/C wrap-around dress to stare at him.

You point at him, feeling your face become hot, "You're the one who walks around acting like you own the place, and now me!"

He begins to unbutton his beaten-up jacket while kicking off his boots. "Maybe it's a dream of mine for us to belong to one another, doll."

You crossed your arms with a pout, even though you felt butterflies in your stomach. Austin gently holds onto your waist to bring you closer so that you're standing in front of him.

"Sergeant, I'm not-."

He cuts you off, "I only want to lay next to me and maybe hold me."

You placed your hands on your hips as Austin ran his fingers through his golden hair, "Can you deny a soldier's last request? I might die tomorrow."

"Fine, but no funny business." You said and sat on the bed to take off your heels.

"As you wish doll."

You shivered when he said that in your ear, and you pulled your hair back to unzip your dress from the back, but callous fingers helped you and allowed them. Goosebumps formed on you as you got up to shimmy your way out of your dress and placed it on a chair. Austin couldn't keep his eyes off of you in your slipped dress. You turned off a lamp to lay next to him, but you were nervous to move.

"I'll help you," he chuckled and brought you closer to his side. He placed his arm underneath your head and took your arm to lay it across his chest, and he looked at you with a smile.

"See," he said, and you smiled at him, "snug as a bug."

You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

———♡———

You woke up sometime later as it was quiet outside of your door and window. But you heard Austin's breathing and stared at him, adjusting to the dark, and you watched puffs of air leave his parted lips. You bite yours, and your heart tightens as you pecked his neck. You brought yourself closer and snuggled deeper into the nook between his should and head. Deeply inhaling his earthly scent, you kissed his jaw and sighed at the feeling of his arms around you.

"What are you doing, Y/N?"

You froze and tried to pull away, but he held you close. Austin then turned to his side to stare down at you, which you expected to be a smirk, but it was a gentle smile. Luckily it was too dark for him to see your face glowing red.

"I just-I-." You stammered.

"What is it, Miss Y/N?"

You realized that you hate when he calls you by your last name, as you're overjoyed when he calls you cute names or Y/N. You hate watching him leave every time and how he's arrogant but almost always right. You don't hate him, but quit the opposite.

"I just want us to belong to one another," you breathed out with a grin.

He blinked at you before cupping your face with his free hand and consuming your lips as you held onto his shoulder. Austin moved on top of you and pulled at your dress, you helped hastily, and he moved down to kiss your breast softly and groped the other one.

"Sergeant," you moaned but covered your mouth in embarrassment. He roughly grabbed your hand away and gingerly left kisses from your stomach to your throbbing core. Austin stood to slide off your stockings, then removed his clothes to throw behind him. You made eye contact, and he crawled on top of you with his hand on your thigh to make circles and then go toward your bud. You moaned into his needy kiss but almost cried out his name when you felt a finger slide into you.

"I need to stretch you out, baby."

You held onto his arm as he thrust his finger in slowly but added speed and another digit while rubbing your bud.

"Austin, I think I'm-." You gasped when you felt him leave your entrance and stared at him with a pout.

He smirked while kissing your jaw, "I want your first orgasm on my cock."

You blushed and nodded at him when he lifted his shaft to enter you as your face scrunched up from being stretched, and he kissed away the uncomfortable feelings. He bottomed out but waited for you to adjust, and you nodded at him to move, which he did slowly again and again. Those thrusts became long and hard as you scratched at his back and wrapped your legs around his waist, and he went deeper.

"Oh god!" You loudly cried out when he hit a specific spot. He gripped the pillow next to your head with your H/C sprawled around you as his other hand rubbed your clit. You kissed one another and heatedly battled with your tongues.

"Austin," you whimpered into his ear, which drove him crazy. "I think I'm about to cum."

"Me too, doll."

His thrusts became sloppy as his thumb circled your bud. Your back arched by itself and into his heated body as Austin bit your lip to pull it away. Your first orgasm lasted a while after he filled you up.

"Fuck Y/N!" Austin moaned onto your swollen lips as you came down from your high.

Austin leaned onto you, trying not to crush you as he caught his breath. You kissed his neck and then shoulder. He placed his head in the crook of yours.

"I love you, Sergeant Butler."

Austin hovered over you with a smile, "I love you, too, Y/N."

He pulled the blanket over you two and wrapped his arms around you, caging you in as you both drifted to sleep.

———♡———

You two woke up to the pounding on the door before Derek barged in, making Austin shield your body from him.

"What, Derek?" Austin spat, and Derek blinked at you two.

"Sorry, sir and ma'am," he stumbled, "but we have to leave now! The commander wants us to head north."

"Shit!" Austin said as Derek closed the door, as you watched Austin rushing to find his clothes. You shook your head in disbelief and quickly crawled over to him by the end of the bed.

"No!" You hugged him from behind, allowing the sheet to fall. He sighed while bowing his head as he held your hands to peel them off. You met his gaze as your eyes began to fill with tears, and you shook your head at him while holding onto your wrists, "Please, Austin, don't-."

"I'll come back for you, I'll always will," he said and cupped your face to kiss you, "you were my reason to stay strong, doll, so still be it."

You grabbed his hands and nodded, "Okay."

He roughly grabbed your face with his eyebrows furrowed as he started to choke up, "Promise me that you'll be strong, please, baby. You keep me together."

"I promise," you sobbed, and he pulled you in for a hug. You two kissed every part of each other's faces until Derek called out Austin's name.

"Hold on, god dammit!" He said and looked at you again with matching teary eyes. His hands touched your flushed cheeks for a longing kiss, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him close.

"Sergeant!"

"Dammit." He mumbled again but stole another peck, "When I come back, I'm bringing you to America, and we can live wherever you want. In the city, by the shore, or on a farm! Wherever as long as I'm with you."

Austin lifted your arms away from his body but left his jacket on you, which you held close. He backed away with your arms moving away from each other slowly, and Austin stood in the doorway and said, "I love you."

"I love you too."

He left as the men followed him while glancing at you with pitied stares.

Be strong. I will.

———♡———

That was two months ago, and the war is over. You still wear Austin's jacket as you helped the allies, showing them you belong to the man, your sergeant. But you haven't heard from him, even though your C/N heard from Luke, and it seemed okay.

But where is he?

You take out what remains from your luggage as you pack into your new flat. C/N told Luke about how you two had to move because the enemy was getting suspicious of you, so you thought that Austin knew, but now you're unsure.

You hear two voices coming up the stairs, and one said, "Do you know a Y/N L/N, sir?"

You dropped a pile of papers and ran to the door to swing it open. You stood in the doorway as someone in the greenback was facing you.

"Sergeant Butler?"

The man turned, and you covered your mouth.

"Evening, doll," Austin smirked.

You ran towards him, and he held you tightly, and you said, "You came back to me."

You pulled away to push some hair away from his face and touched his dog tags and his chest. You met his gaze with a huge grin.

Austin pulled you into another hug, "I always will, Y/N. I'll always come back for you."

You sniffled into his shirt, "Can C/N come with us to America?"

He smiled at you, "I'm sure Luke has that covered."

You laughed as you two planned to live in the city or by the beach.

Tag

@purejasmine

#austin butler #austin butler gif #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin!elvis smut #baz luhrmann elvis #austin elvis imagine #austin x reader

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lovedrunkheadcanons · 2 years

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Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on Ao3

Rated M

Having a full day’s rest and doing little to no strenuous activity had done the trick. Satoru was feeling loads better come the next morning, sitting across from Hannah during breakfast. Makoto hadn’t even finished setting the table when the jujutsu sorcerer began filling his bowl with fried rice and smoked sausages, noticing the funny look his wife was giving him.

“Wha?” he said, stuffing his face with food like a chipmunk. “M‘ungry.”

A small smile tugged on the sides of Hannah’s mouth, though it wasn’t mocking. “I can see that,” she said, scooping some scrambled eggs into her bowl. “Suppose this means your headache is gone?”

Satoru caught Makoto’s warning glare as she came back with a pot of coffee, her cautionary way of reminding him to behave like a gentleman, and so as not to incur the housekeeper's wrath, Satoru wisely chose to swallow his food before speaking. “Yeah,” he reached for the sugar bowl as Makoto poured the coffee into his mug. “It’s gone”

Hannah’s face relaxed. “Good,” she lightly exhaled, pinching some fried rice between her chopsticks and bringing it to her lips. “I’m glad.”

Satoru took another bite. “And you?” he asked. “Have you got everything…situated?”

She flicked her eyes to meet his for a brief instant, casting them back down on her food. “Almost. I sorted through some of the clothes yesterday, but it’s going to take me a while.”

“Thought so,” he sighed, propping his cheek in his hand, twirling his chopsticks. “I don’t really know what women like, so most of it was just guess work on my part.”

Hannah looked up at him. He couldn't honestly expect her to believe that, could he? Makoto said everything stored within that closet hadn’t been put there without his approval. Given the fabric selection alone, Satoru’s attention to detail was too educated for him “not to know” what women liked. And the notes he stipulated in the sketchbooks gave his secret away: “Remove the sleeves.” “Velvet, not satin.” “Does it come in red?” Hannah thought he’d make a better stylist, maybe even a better designer, than a jujutsu sorcerer.

“I like the clothes,” she finally said, taking a sip of tea. “You have a good eye.”

All she heard from across the table was a soft snort; the closest she’d get to a “thank you.”

For the remainder of breakfast, the two newlyweds ate together in awkward silence, listening to the ticking of the cuckoo clock situated on a wooden dresser, and the crinkling tatami as Makoto cruised in and out of the kitchen with either dirty dishes or another pot of coffee for Satoru.

Growing quite uncomfortable by the silence herself, Makoto cleared her throat and turned to Hannah. “Ma’am, with the young master feeling unwell, it seems I forgot to discuss something important with you the other day.”

Hannah finished chewing and brought a napkin to her mouth. “Oh? Like what?”

Makoto looked at Satoru before looking back at her mistress. “As you are aware, the young master has informed me of your caffeine intolerance, but I’m afraid that’s all I know. And being the lady of the house, it technically falls upon you to choose the meals we eat.”

“Me?” Hannah’s eyes flitted shyly to Satoru. “Are you sure?”

The white-haired sorcerer nodded and jabbed a lazy thumb at Makoto. “I’ll eat whatever she puts in front of me, so go ahead.”

“Alright,” Hannah folded her napkin on her lap and redirected her attention to the housekeeper, “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Anything your heart desires,” replied Makoto like it was no trouble. “The young master prefers I cook traditional meals, but I was thinking I might begin incorporating more English cuisine. Just curious, but how would you feel about kedgeree?”

“Kedgeree?” Hannah’s entire face visibly brightened. “Really?”

Makoto stood proudly, eyes shining. “I did say anything, no?”

Satoru raised his hand like a confused algebra student. “What the heck is kadgeree?”

“Ked-geree,” Hannah corrected, trying not to look too amused by his pronunciation. “It’s a breakfast casserole made with rice, shredded smoked fish, and soft boiled eggs topped with spices.”

“So it’s good, is what you’re saying?”

Hannah didn't hold back her smile this time as hazel brown meshed with turquoise blue. “I’d like to think so, yes.” Although she omitted how she only ate the Indo-English casserole when she was staying at Wasserton, breakfast being the one meal where it was appropriate for an illegitimate to dine with their family (except when they were entertaining.) Lunch and dinner were more formal affairs, and so Hannah usually ate her afternoon meals in the servants’ quarters together with the housestaff, but kedgeree had always been her favorite. “We should try it sometime.”

Satoru hummed as though mulling it over, and went back to taking another bite of food. Smoked fish and rice did sound rather appetizing. Makoto turned to her mistress again.

“I’ll write a new menu each week for you to review, and be sure to include descriptions, if that helps any?”

Hannah nodded and offered her gratitude, while the housekeeper took her empty bowl off the table and headed for the kitchen. Satoru gobbled the last of his sausage and hastily swilled his coffee in such a way that made Hannah’s throat burn. He rose from the table and stretched.

“Oh-kay,” he groaned, reaching for the ceiling till he heard various bones separate and pop. “Ugh. Ready to go?”

Hannah winced from the crackling bones. “Go?” she said. “Go where?”

Satoru rolled his eyes, and searched his pockets for his sunglasses. “Training in the heat of the day is a real pain in the ass. Best to do it now while it’s still early.”

“Training?” The food in Hannah’s stomach sank like stones. “You’re serious?”

Satoru said nothing and placed the sunglasses on his nose, giving her a devilish smile. “Serious as a heart attack, Princess.” His head cocked to the door. “Hop to it. We’re killing daylight.”

And just like that.

The next three weeks would become quite the undertaking for Hannah. Like a baptism through fire, her days were spent balancing the many tasks required of a jujutsu sorcerer’s wife. There was no set routine, or light workload. Each day presented a new lesson in need of quick learning.

During that first day of training, Satoru had her running cardio through the mountainous terrain and the higher altitude had Hannah so out of breath, the poor girl thought she would faint. Her feeble legs were shaking from having to propel herself up the steep inclines, Satoru barking closely at her heels. “Sheesh, you’re a turtle,” he jeered from behind. “I know little old ladies with asthma faster than you.” Hannah pretended not to hear him and kept her eyes on the dirt road, panting heavily until they stopped for a short break before continuing onwards.

Some unlucky days he had her jogging with weights lodged in her hands, or tied snugly around her waist like a counterpoise, “for strength conditioning,” as he often put it. Those were the mornings Hannah wanted to fall to the ground and tap out, but Satoru wouldn't let her. “Ah, ah, ah,” he would tut, wagging an admonitory finger. “I thought this was part of our agreement; No training, no Sukuna fingers.” Then her motivation was restored when he added, “You want to save those people, right?” and she would somehow find the energy to finish the mile.

After two full laps around the school, Satoru had her doing push-ups, three sets with 15 reps each, but would only count the ones where her nose touched the ground or else force her to start over. He applied the same rule for sit-ups, demanding she lift herself all the way before starting another. Several failed push-ups and sit-ups later Hannah was sure she’d be sick. She struggled similarly with the lunges, the squats, the jumping jacks. His rationale for the grueling cardio was twofold; endurance training and increasing her muscle mass. “Gotta whip ya into shape before I teach you how to land a decent punch.”

Following that tortious first week, it quickly became apparent that the Six Eyes wielder was missing a few marbles.

Hannah remembered one infamous morning when the white-haired sorcerer somehow managed to sneak inside her bedroom and thought it would be fun to dunk an entire bucket of ice water on her, all because she unknowingly slept past her alarm on accident. Suffice it to say, the little woman was not happy.

“Are you crazy?!’ she cried as she leapt from her futon, wrapping her thin arms around herself to regain whatever warmth she could.

Satoru let out a low chuckle. “Maybe,” and squatted down to show her an innocent, closed-eyed smile. “You wouldn't wake up, so I did it for you. Aren’t I nice?”

Hannah glowered menacingly. “Quite,” she said, shivering from the cold. She looked down at the tin bucket he was holding. Her teeth chattered. “May I ask how y-you got in here?”

The sorcerer gave his usual shrug. “Through the door, obviously.” His smile widened as her glare deepened. “You let me in.”

Her eyes widened. “What? N-No I didn’t.”

“Yeah you did,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “I asked if I could come inside and you said ‘yes.’”

This was met with more scrutiny. “I don’t believe you,” Hannah insisted, rubbing her arms. “Makoto said no one d-dead or alive would be able to enter. You must’ve done something to break the seal.”

His smug grin smoothly faded. Glacial blue eyes lingered on her for a frosty moment and Hannah could do nothing except hold her breath as his Six Eyes beckoned closer; nacreous, spell-binding, otherworldly. He was seeing something her eyes could not, but what?

“I’ll be waiting outside,” he replied, rising slowly from the floor. “Eat your breakfast and come out,” and then she watched him vacate the bedroom, empty bucket in tow, like it never even happened.

Hannah blinked once, twice, a third time.

Forget marbles. Gojo Satoru was undoubtedly the strangest, yet aggravating, person she’d ever met, not only in appearance, but in character.

For one, the man never stopped talking, ever, constantly transitioning from one random topic to the next. One moment they would be discussing modern architecture, and then on a whim they were debating whether Hi-Chews tasted better than Kororo gummies (Hannah couldn’t say), followed by an interesting fact he recently learned about blue-ringed octopuses and how they were no bigger than a golf ball and packed enough venom to kill at least 26 people, “and if they bite you, you’re basically screwed because there’s no antivenom.” He also denied being a picky eater, but Hannah noticed how he would avoid sansho and wasabi like the plague. She made a mental note that he didn’t enjoy spicy foods as much as she did.

Satoru was definitely not a morning person and was normally the last to arrive for breakfast — Actually, he was last to arrive for just about everything with a designated time — Although he was probably the fastest speed reader on the planet coupled with a photographic memory, which Hannah discovered one morning while waiting for him at the dining table. She was immersed in a Bible passage, enjoying a fresh cup of chamomile tea, when out of nowhere Satoru swiped the RNJB straight from her hands and demanded she reveal what it was. When she told him, his expression soured. “No way, this is it?” he flipped it open, “I thought it would be bigger,” and then he took the holy book, beginning to end, and permitted the pages to cascade through his fingers like a large stack of playing cards. Hannah watched his blue eyes shift rapidly from side to side, the paper awash in a blur as he neared the Book of Revelation. Wait a minute, was he actually reading that? No one could read that fast.

“Wanna make a bet?” he challenged when Hannah unconsciously spoke this out loud. He closed the Bible shut. “Quiz me then. Ask me something only a person who bothered to read this thing would know.”

And quiz him she did. Hannah asked the hardest thought questions her scrappy little brain could muster; “What items were stored in the Ark of the Covenant?” “Who replaced Judas Escariot after the Ascension?” “What was the name of Adam and Eve’s third son?” To her immense frustration, Satoru answered every question she hurled at him like a reputable scholar, quoting the exact Bible verse and chapter, verbatim, just to rub it in her face.

“But…But that’s impossible,” she floundered once she could think of nothing else. “It takes decades to study on that level. Surely you’ve read it before.”

Satoru had to force down a smile as he handed her back the Bible. “Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather have my eyes gouged than read that crap again,” and finally sat down to pour himself a mug of sugary coffee.

His words were a saber. Hannah attempted to mask her hurt as she kneeled to join him. While Satoru probably meant nothing by it, he had a habit of being brutally honest to the point of sounding cruel. She didn’t share that same perview when it came to his beliefs, but then of course, their personalities were basically night and day. She wondered if anyone knew how devoted he was to Buddhist meditation.

As the young wife confided in the ceiling one night, frustrated at how hopeless it was to fall asleep, her nose recognized the pleasant aroma of charred sandalwood and benzoin, the smell of burning incense. She checked her watch for the hour, 2:43 am, and sneakily cracked open her door to investigate. Having to squint as she crept along the dimly lit hallway, she saw a room glowing a tad brighter than the others and recognized it was the parlor hosting the Buddhist altar where the Gojo ancestors were commemorated next to the kamidana. Tiptoeing ever closer, she peeked around the corner to see Satoru sitting upright in the Lotus Position, eyes closed, legs folded as he softly chanted the mantra, “namu amida butsu,” over and over again in a hypnotic rhythm, a thread of prayer beads looped inside one palm. She observed him like that for a few minutes, the lanterns illuminating his broad physique and white hair like a sunset on untouched snow, a crystal Buddha. Even when he wore a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants, she was arrested by his beauty. A few minutes passed. Then, like a flower petal floating in the wind, she quietly made the journey back to her room, settled into her futon, and fell asleep to the words, “namu amida butsu,” in her head. She would repeat this early morning ritual more than a few times, knowing her husband would likely be awake during the hour, meditating. He hadn’t caught her in the act thus far. Fingers crossed.

When Satoru wasn’t around for her to stalk, Hannah’s main priority was familiarizing herself with the estate; going over finances, responding to congratulatory letters, and memorizing long family histories under the sagely council of Makoto. She learned that much of the Gojo’s wealth came primarily from stock market exchanges, buying low, selling high. However, for several generations, the Gojo clan was one of the top sumo wrestling profiteers in the nation, training the winningest fighters across the land, but a bitter dispute against a rivaling family changed everything and the Gojo’s were pressured to sell their livelihood before making it big in the timber industry. The career change paid off. Sumo steadily went on the decline, but the Gojo family did not. Hannah discovered there was not one, but four additional properties tied to the Gojo name; an opulent townhouse which used to be the main Gojo estate in Kyoto, a tobacco merchant’s home in Osaka, a minka farmhouse in Gokayama, and a beachside cottage overlooking the Pacific on one of the Kyushu islands. As the current figurehead of the family, Satoru chose to live in the Tokyo residence, the newly appointed crown jewel of the family, which to Hannah’s surprise encompassed not only a tea garden, but fourteen acres of strolling gardens with huge sections of graveled karesansui framed around a ginormous lake.

Each week, a team of gardeners would mow the grass, trim the hedges, and sweep dead foliage off the stepped-stoned path, connecting the physical realm with the spiritual. The raked gravel could symbolize the vast open sea, while a rock, smooth or jagged, could be a towering mountain, a sleeping tortoise, or a crouching tiger. Hannah knew that to enter the Japanese garden required “mindful abandon.” To humble oneself to the elements.

There was nothing she found more humbling than watching gasps of koi swim underneath a red soribashi bridge that adjoined a small island where a traditional teahouse lay hidden, or feeding fresh grapes to the mallard ducks grazing peacefully beside a raft of water lilies, splashing their tail feathers and diving their bottle-green heads into the murky water below. The strolling gardens were a horticulturist’s dream come true. They had everything; dogwoods, cherry blossoms, Japanese maple, black pines. A Chinese orangery cultivared in succulent mandarins and apricots that would be plucked from their boughs come summertime. Trimmed bushels of rhododendrons and azaleas and miniature wisteria trees. Hannah loved the stone lanterns sculpted to look as though they were donning wide-brimmed hats, and would close her eyes and listen to the bamboo chimes sway gently in the breeze, the trickling of the waterfall, and take in the sweet, sweet perfume of wild lemongrass. For years to come this garden would be her sanctuary, her safe space. Her nightmares couldn’t haunt her here. She could be content, safe from the night terrors.

Jujutsu High was once part of the Tokyo estate, until Satoru’s great grandfather donated the land to build a jujutsu school on par with that of Kyoto. By affiliation, this made Hannah an honorary member of the educational board, and by the end of the month she attended her first meeting on Satoru’s behalf. She didn’t have to talk too much - thank God - except introduce herself and take a seat, but the elders in the room made for an unpleasant welcome, eyeing her coldly and whispering in each other’s ears before the proceedings began. Were these the higher-ups Satoru warned her about, she thought. If so, what would they have to ridicule? She hadn’t done anything inappropriate or spoken out of turn. Makoto even dressed her in kimono, a seafoam houmongi with pearlescent butterflies stitched at the bottom.

Unless required to leave school premises, which was strictly reserved for Sunday mass, Hannah started wearing kimono on a regular basis. Every morning, after her training sessions with Satoru and a warm bath, Makoto would instruct her young mistress how to wrap the nagajuban and kimono just right so the ground wouldn't dirty the skirt, and how to tie an obi into a “drum knot,” and how to walk in zori sandals without twisting an ankle. She would also delegate to her which color combinations were best suited for each season and which combinations were to be avoided. With enough practice, Hannah was soon able to dress herself without help.

“Woah,” said Satoru when she stepped out wearing a blue striped komon, accentuated by a navy sash covered in daisies.

Hannah was startled to see him standing in the hallway and froze. “Does it look alright?” she asked nervously, giving the kimono a once over. “I can change into something else if you want.”

A furtive blush dappled his cheeks. “No,” he hastened his eyes to the floor. “You look goo — er — nice,” the sorcerer cleared his throat, “You look nice.”

Makoto also began straightening Hannah’s hair using a special heating technique called “thermal reconditioning.” Hannah had to sit very still as the housekeeper mixed, worked, and washed the straightening solution from her hair, then flatten it several times with a hot iron to permanently break down the keratin structure, leaving the auburn strands glossy smooth. The time consuming process would need to be repeated again in six months, but Hannah didn’t mind listening to Makoto relay stories of her past while she maneuvered behind the mirror.

“When I was first hired as one of the nannies, the young master was no taller than a boxwood shrub,” she chuckled, running the hot iron through Hannah’s hair. “Used to follow me everywhere I went, begging for sweets, making me laugh. I was the only servant he liked so it seemed, though I couldn’t tell you why. He was prone to all sorts of mischief at that age.” She shook her head. “Some things never change.”

Hannah suddenly looked up at both their reflections. “The only servant? There were more?”

The housekeeper halted her ironing. “For a time, yes,” she replied, holding a lock of warmly pressed hair. “But when the young master became clan leader, he sent most of them away.”

“Except you?”

Makoto glanced at her mistress through the mirror and smiled. “Yes, ma’am,” she said modestly. “Except me.” The housekeeper carefully switched the hot iron for a fine-toothed comb. “Now, let’s finish straightening this long hair of yours. I think I’ll want to tweak your eyebrows too while I’m at it. They’re looking a bit uneven.”

Upon putting the finishing touches to her hair and perfecting her eyebrows, Makoto also placed Hannah on a strict skincare regimen that she was to uphold morning, noon, and night, on top of learning how to curl her eyelashes, apply foundation with a kabuki brush, and color her lips. By the end, Hannah had to admit that she felt more presentable, but the housekeeper’s beautifying efforts weren't solely for aesthetics. It was important that Hannah master all her faculties in preparation for chanoyu.

As it were, the tea ceremony was no ordinary social event, but the epitome of Japanese culture, where people from all walks of life sat together to participate in a ritual meal and drink tea as equals. For Hannah, hosting a Japanese tea ceremony would become her greatest test; A trial by which the whole of jujutsu society would serve to judge. A successful ceremony would bring honor to her new family. Anything less would bring ruin. She had much to study, but Hannah couldn’t have been given a better teacher.

Like a love-struck poet, Makoto spoke of Japanese tea as though it were a deity, revering the camellia leaves like one would French wine or an expensive Scottish whiskey. How could one person be the housekeeper, the butler, the chef, the maid, the valet, a kimono teacher, a beautician - essentially a Swiss army knife of service and dedication - and now also a tea master? Hannah sat in awed silence as the woman went into grand detail about the history of tea and how it was first brought over to Japan from China, later inspiring the “Land of Wa” to create its own tea ceremony, with its own structure and rules, till Sen no Rikyu emerged in the 16th century and began introducing the idea of wabi-sabi, laying the groundwork for the tea ceremony as it’s practiced today.

Makoto would teach her the subtle nuances between Japanese teas and how to tell them apart by leaf, fragrance, color, and taste. Since most were quite caffeinated, Hannah took tiny sips of each and tried memorizing the mouthfeel, flavor, and sweet umami on her tongue. Makoto had her drink various sencha teas, two seperate culinary and ceremonial grade matcha teas, high quality gyokuro grown in Uji that had been hand picked from the fields, and common bancha teas found in local grocery stores sold around the country. Even though the tea ceremony only used matcha, tasting and differentiating other teas was integral because Hannah would have to select these teas when housing guests.

There were also the tea utensils and how to correctly use them during the actual ceremony. For example, when cleaning a tea scoop, the host was to take a silk cloth, called the fukusa, and fold it into a long triangle, making sure to tug on the ends for a slight “pop,” before turning it vertically on its side and using the circumference of her hand to wrap and fold the cloth into thirds, which was then used to wipe the tea scoop exactly three times. Because her hands shook from nerves, this step became very difficult for Hannah to get right. “Mistakes are a part of life, ma’am,” Makoto would say each time Hannah folded incorrectly and the cloth came undone. “Ganbatte kudasai.”

But sometimes “doing her best” was a hard ask when in the midst of their tea lessons, Satoru would unexpectedly pop in to show off his vastly superior tea-making skills, executing the steps without error. However, during non-tea-ceremonial-related occasions he would randomly appear, looking to satisfy his burning curiosity when his wife was alone.

“So what’s the difference between a Western sorcerer and a jujutsu sorcerer?”

Hannah peered up from Sei Shonagon’s A Pillow Book to see Satoru’s tall frame looming over her, shaded by the old fig tree she was relaxing underneath. Makoto had released her from her tea lessons for the day.

Her head tilted. “What do you mean?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I mean, why are they classified different? Aren’t they the same?”

Hannah folded the corner of the page she was on so she could easily find it again and closed the book, giving him her full, undivided attention. the book, giving him her full, undivided attention. “No, I don’t think so. Jujutsu encompasses a darker type of magic, right?” Satoru affirmed this with a nod as Hannah continued. “And I don’t believe jujutsu sorcerers have ordained exorcists at their disposal either.”

Satoru’s face scrunched in confusion. “Ordained? What, like monks or something?”

He watched the woman lightly bop herself on the temple. “Ah, that’s right,” she laughed dryly. “Shinto and Buddhist priests perform exorcisms too. Though I’m guessing you don’t give them fancy titles like ‘Monsignor’ or ‘The Honorable Reverend.’ I’ve met a few exorcists with those titles.” She lifted her head, looking up at the rustling fig leaves. “I wonder if Fr. O‘Malley is a monsignor and doesn’t want anyone to know, given how unpopular the title is nowadays.”

Satoru lifted an eyebrow. He didn’t know what the heck she was talking about. “You’ll have to ask him — and for the record, not all monastics perform exorcisms,” he sat himself beside her, playfully poking her in the arm, “and you still haven’t answered my initial question, so spill.”

Hannah's face grew warm at the gesture. That was another oddity about Satoru. The man saw no issue getting up close and personal with people, be it stranger or otherwise. They were now bucked shoulder to shoulder. She could smell the incense and coffee on his clothes. “Well, the way I see it,” she began, fiddling with the pages in her book, “there exists two kinds of Western sorcerer; An ordained exorcist, whose primary job is to cast out demonic spirits from a possessed person, and a ‘true sorcerer,’” she made air quotes, “who then uses magic to eradicate those demonic spirits. They also eradicate Curses and — ”

Satoru waved for her to stop. “Wait, wait, wait, I'm lost now. You’re telling me demonic spirits and Curses are different too?”

Drat. Hannah realized her mistake yet again. She had used the Japanese word “yokai” (strange apparition) as her translation for “demonic spirits,” when she should’ve used the more appropriate word “akuma” (devil). It was hard for her to remember all these complex definitions. In Japanese folklore there existed a bevy of supernatural creatures, each with their own unique characteristics and narratives. There were oni, sometimes pronounced “ki,” who were frightening looking ogres with protruding fangs and long horns, often wielding heavy clubs and could be both evil or benevolent depending on the encounter. In early February during Setsubun, one might witness the “cleansing” of these ogres with the throwing of beans and the phrase “Oni wa soto, fuku wa uchi” (Oni get out, luck come in). There were also akuma, which were more akin to the Western image of demons; a being that existed within a fiery, evil hellscape. And then there were the most fascinating creatures of all known as yokai.

Anomalous, shape-shifting, and spooky, there was no single way to define yokai. They were believed to be mysterious spirits or monsters that roamed the outskirts of Japan, waiting for an unsuspecting human to accidentally stumble across their path. Stories were told of scaly turtle-like imps (kappa) that lured young children to their ponds before drowning them, or shape-shifting fox spirits (kitsune) who bewitched and possessed people, commonly taking the guise of a beautiful woman, or spiky leafed trees (ninmenju) that sprouted human heads instead of blossoms and bled when cut.

Given the striking similarities, it was an ongoing debate as to whether Curses were separate from yokai, or whether they were ostensibly one in the same. Regardless, such arguments held little sway in the eyes of the West, who harbored its own forgone conclusions about supernatural creatures, especially when discussing angels and demons, who were shapeshifters like yokai, but were strongly divided amongst the forces of good and evil, something yokai and Curses were not — Anywho, the whole thoroughfare was very complex and made for a terribly long conversation, which Satoru gathered from the look on his wife’s face and brushed the question aside.

“Okay, scratch that. So a jujutsu sorcerer is equivalent to a ‘true’ sorcerer, and an ordained exorcist is its own thing? Is that it?”

The seer pressed her lips together. “I suppose. Although there are ordained exorcists who can also wield magic, so the two are often conflated, if that makes sense.”

Satoru grunted, finding her explanation unhelpful. Since Japan outpaced the rest of the world’s sorcerer population by a scale of 9/10, many were convinced that the existence of sorcerers and Curses were strictly Japanese phenomena. In other words, everyone knew about jujutsu sorcerers, more or less, but that couldn’t be said about other populations. Satoru was inquisitive by nature. He didn’t like not being in “the know,” and finally here was someone who could answer questions that long ago would’ve earned him a cold hard slap on the wrist.

That was the thing about Hannah.

To her credit, she wasn’t the spoiled brat he had originally imagined. While she was horrendously shy, lacked self-confidence, and tripped on her own two feet, she was also attentive and sincere and went about her business unobtrusively. She wasn’t fond of loud, overbearing colors and hardly, if ever, asked him for money. She was purposeful when she spoke and was quick to forgive when he pushed his boundaries, like the incident with the ice water, and she didn’t become annoyed when he asked a question. Rather, she engaged with him and listened to what he had to say, even when he knew he was saying the dumbest shit. Something he was slowly coming to appreciate. Truth was, he liked how much she cared.

And this sense of compassion wasn’t exclusive to people. He couldn’t forget the one time she found a gangly-legged huntsman spider lurking in a corner and not knowing what it was at first gave a loud, girlish shriek, prompting Satoru to rush in and squash the said spider, whereby Hannah began to cry, aggrieved that he felt it necessary to maime such a “harmless creature.”

“I didn’t want you to kill it,” she sniffed, wiping her teary eyes. “How would you like it if someone came along and squished you?”

Satoru could only stand there and take it on the chin. Women; Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. But irrespective of her unnatural empathy for creepy-crawlies, he found it a little cute that she was waking in the middle of the night just to spy on him. Silly girl, of course he knew. The Six Eyes saw past everything, even when fully closed, though a part of him didn’t want her to know that for fear it would scare her off. One way or another, that’s normally what happened; people were always afraid. And if it was any consolation, he’d been spying on her too.

Whenever he heard her singing in the bath, Satoru couldn’t resist taking a quick peak, using the Six Eyes to see through the bathroom walls, but kept the erections to a minimum…Well, he tried to anyway. Sometimes when she hit a particular high note and turned to him full frontal, his mind would draw a massive blank and the contracted muscles bundled around his groin would involuntarily relax, allowing blood to flow inside the spongy cavities and take hold. Stretching. Expanding. Oh so good. Unlike the previous times, however, the sensation left him feeling a tad…icky. Hannah wasn’t some no-name porn star he could heedlessly jerk off to and then forget like a used condom, and yet he was treating her no different. If she ever found out, what would she think? What would she say? Probably nothing nice. Despite how things started between them, he wanted her to like him, or at least willingly talk to him. There was so much she didn’t know about everyday life.

Take technology for instance. The woman knew next to nothing about technology. Earlier that month, he’d gifted her a brand new iPhone 6 and not until he saw her lost expression did he understand she had no idea what she’d been given. “I wasn’t permitted to have one,” she said sheepishly, as though attesting to a crime. Satoru spent the duration of that evening hovering over the little woman, teaching her how to open the lock screen, how to dial a phone number, and how to type a text message and search the internet. Still to this day, his wife is unable to text using both thumbs and holds the phone flat in her hand while using her pointer finger to tap on the keyboard, which for a while drove him insane, but he’d eventually make peace with it. Although her knowledge of pop culture was inexcusable.

“C’mon, you’ve had to have seen The Godfather.” he stressed when the subject came up. “You know? The greatest motion picture ever made?”

Hannah shook her head.

“Star Wars?”

Again her head went left to right.

“The Dark Knight? Lord of the Rings?…Elf?”

Every Hollywood blockbuster Satoru listed, Hannah responded with a negative, except for Men in Black weirdly enough, which wasn’t close to being the best Will Smith performance. Nor did it cover Japanese staples like Spirited Away, Hara-kiri, or Bayside Shakedown. It killed him.

“Really, you haven’t seen any of these films?” he said, hands falling to his sides in disappointment. “Nada one?”

Hannah bit her lip and glanced at him warily. “I’ve read most of the books,” she squeaked. “Does that count?”

From that day forward, Satoru made it a priority that once a week Hannah sat down to watch a movie with him and, as an act of goodwill, would let her pick the genre. “Except romance,” he emphasized, making an “X” with his arms. “We’re not watching any of that garbage.” Though he must’ve been joking when he said this because a good quarter of his collection were rom-coms.

Unfortunately, Hannah couldn’t say these movie nights were particularly enjoyable since every few minutes or so, Satoru would forget where he was and spoil the scene, or worse, spoil the ending, but she didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, nor condemn the obscene amount of butter he drizzled on the popcorn because in a physical sense he appeared alive and well, but Hannah knew he was tired. She knew how hard he’d been working; traveling, exorcizing Curses, haggling with the higher-ups, waking at the crack of dawn to train her, and doing it all over again. If watching a movie one day out of the week was his way of relaxing, then she would do her best not to complain. After everything that transpired over the last month, things had begun to take a turn for the better.

Aloof, scatterbrained, and eclectic, Hannah initially thought Satoru a tough nut to crack, but after spending an inordinate amount of time together, perhaps a better analogy was a rough diamond; only until you looked under the light, very closely, could you see the tiny fractures sparkling within. That being said, he had difficulty opening up, jabbering for hours on end without saying really anything at all, never personal, never too deep. Although sometimes when they got to talking and the film credits rolled, the mask would slip right off.

“I fuckin’ hate this job,” he admitted to her one night, resting his long legs atop the coffee table, while massaging his aching eyes.

Hannah’s own eyes deflected from the television screen, the half-empty popcorn bowl sitting comfortably in her lap. They’d just finished watching Disney’s Hercules and were about to watch The Aristocats next. The hollowness in his voice worried her. “What makes you say that?”

Satoru sighed deeply through his nose. He’d lost interest in the movie roughly forty minutes ago. “Curses are conjured from negative emotions wrought by humans,” he said, staring blankly at the scars lining his palm. “Envy, revenge, anger, despair. We could excorcize every Curse in this country, find all the Sukuna fingers before they fully manifested, and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he balled his fist, “Maybe Suguru was right. Maybe humanity is too far gone to save.”

“Suguru?” Hannah’s brows contracted. “Who’s that?”

His eyes quickly flicked to her. “Nobody,” he muttered, before looking at the television. “Just some guy I used to work with.”

Hannah bowed her head and slowly leaned forward. “Well…would you like to know what I think?” She placed the popcorn bowl on the table, enticing him to listen. She caught a slight trace of turquoise blue focused on her. “I think what you do is important. Because of you a mother didn’t have to bury her newborn baby, a little boy didn’t have to get his leg amputated from a curse infection, and an old man got to live longer to see his grandchildren grow up. People like you make a difference, Satoru.”

But as she said this, the sorcerer turned away. He’d heard the same speech before. “What’s the point? We can’t save them all,” he murmured.

“No, you can’t,” Hannah whispered sadly, knowing his words were true. “Like you said, there's terrible evil in this world,” she placed a hand on his shoulder, “but there’s also a lot of good. And if there’s a way to protect even a little of that goodness, doesn’t that make the fight worth it? Don’t you think having a little good in this world is better than having none?”

Satoru wheeled his head to look at her, Six Eyes blue as a cloudless sky. Is that what she told herself when the nightmares became too real? When she would cry out in the dead of night and beg someone, anyone, to come save her from the monsters she faced in her dreams?

“I wish I never had it,” he recalled her saying, and now several weeks after the fact, Satoru was beginning to understand what she meant. He couldn’t confirm to what extent, but Hannah’s visions were afflicting her almost every night, seemingly more morose and violent than the last. The walls weren’t soundproof. He could make out her whimpers emanating from across the halls. “Please,” she would weep in strained English, “help me.”

Gravely concerned for her mistress, Makoto once tried breaking the seal with a counter charm, a powerful disarming spell inked on a white tag, but the incantation swiftly rebounded upon making contact with the door and nearly engulfed the hallway in an inferno of bright purple flames. It was no good. The seal was indestructible. Sorcerer or not, nobody was getting in from the outside. They’d have to wait for Hannah to awaken on her own. It worked once with the ice water. Perhaps it would work again.

Satoru didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Late one night when he was returning home from another mission, trudging tiredly up the dimly lit hallway, his ears detected the sound of Hannah crying in her bedroom. Had he opened his door too quickly and closed it shut, he would’ve missed it.

“Sa…”

Satoru froze stiff, fingers hooked around the latch. Could it be — was she?

“Sa…u”

He glanced cautiously towards the other side, seeing her tiny figure through the walls on the ground, thrashing under the blankets like a butterfly tangled in a web, desperately wanting to be freed. The thought reminded him of that lousy hair clip he returned on her nightstand weeks ago. He walked over and pressed his ear to the door, her voice clear as a bell.

“Satoru.”

Nope. He wasn’t imagining things. That was definitely his name she was calling. But was it enough? Would it let him in like last time?

His hand gripped the shoji handle and yanked it gently to the right.

The door cracked a tiny sliver.

Ha! Success.

Quickly, he stepped into the room brimming with paulownias and looked down at his foreign bride, her pretty face contorted as though in pain; skin sweaty, teeth gritted, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. His chest lurched. She looked so frail, so weak, trapped inside that limbo state of neither sleep nor real consciousness, but Satoru knew his orders. He was not to wake her. He was not to disturb or inhibit the visions by any means. He could do nothing except watch the little woman go it alone. The inaction made him feel powerless, a horrible mixture of both pity and subdued agitation.

“No,” she cried out again, voice breaking from the violent sobs that overcame her body. “Ple-e-ease.”

Fuck. It had been like this for weeks. Orders be damned. Those old fogies could go drown themselves at the bottom of the Sumida river. Satoru knelt on the floor.

“Hannah?” he said, cupping her cheek and tapping it lightly. “Oi, you’re dreaming, Hannah,” he grabbed hold of her shoulders and shook, “Hannah. Wake up.” Her head lulled. Auburn hair clung to the sweat and tears on her cheeks as more sobs followed. She squirmed in his hold.

Running out of available options, Satoru was tempted to place two fingers on her forehead and disrupt the vision with Cursed Energy, but found himself reluctant to do so. He didn’t know the effects of using spells on people during powerful visions. It could easily backfire similarly to the charm Makoto placed on the door. What if he gave her irreparable brain damage or made her permanently blind? Maybe it wasn’t good of him to come here after all.

“No,” Hannah begged, her hand grappling for air as though reading his mind, “Please don’t,” she sobbed harder, “don’t go.”

Without a momentary thought, his palm found hers, tracing the smooth skin with his thumb in an effort to soothe, giving it a tender squeeze. This woman had shown him actual kindness when few else did and asked nothing in return.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he whispered, caressing her dollike hand in the moonlit dark. “I promise.”

Refusing to leave, the sorcerer stayed by her side the whole night, holding her hand, until the sun trickled in the next morning, secretly making his exit before those innocent hazel eyes flitted open.

Like always, Hannah would remember none of it.

Chapter Contents

#fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x oc #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fanfic #gojo fluff #fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #Gojo Takes a Wife

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morulezopelforever · 2 years

Text

Alec Scudder is fed up what with one thing or another...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31992058/chapters/79240288

I’d like to highlight a Maurice fanfic I wrote in 2021. ‘A Gentleman’s Tale’ is the first part of my series ‘For Maurice to End where the Muddle Begins.’

Meet Clive, Maurice and Alec, men in their forties in the 21st centurty, more specifically during one of the 2020 pandemic lockdowns. Their story is told from Clive’s perspective.

Clive has not seen Maurice and Alec for years, and now he finds himself spending a weekend at their place. After a more than warm welcome, Clive feels he has to repay his hosts by inviting them to visit him and Anne...I’m afraid that is not going down all too well with Alec, who used to be an employee at Durham Logistics and who has his own bad memories to battle...

After Alec got home, he joined us in the garden. By now it was too late for a full meal, to my secret relief, because the couple must be nearly broke and I did not want to eat too much of their food. Lazing in his chair, smoking one of my cigarettes and guzzling Carlsberg from a can, Alec promised he’d make us some baked beans on toast with a fried egg on top. That sounded really lovely, but then he got up and announced that he’d clean out the shitty litter boxes first and take a shower and get changed. ‘He’s unbelievably energetic,’ Maurice said admiringly when his lover had gone back inside.

The meal was constantly interrupted by cats begging for bits. One crawled into my lap, settled down and fell asleep, only to wake up when Alec served bowls of tinned rice pudding and jam for dessert.

‘Don’t feed Lily, please,’ he said when I let the animal lick some sweet goo off my finger. ‘She’ll get the screaming ab-dabs.’ ‘That’s enough, Alec,’ Maurice sighed. ‘Don’t spoil Clive’s appetite.’ They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then they kissed. ‘I love you, you dirty bugger,’ Maurice breathed.

When we were having tea, I conveyed my plan. Now I included Alec too, because I had just seen how inseparable they were. ‘You’re both very welcome to spend some time at my house, to get away from it all. Technically speaking, it’s forbidden because of the corona rules and yadeyadeya, but Anne would love it.’

Alec sat up with a jolt as if struck by lightning. ‘Your house? Are you daft? What if your mum sees me?’

Maurice smiled and lit a cigarette. I had nearly run out, so I decided to drive to the next service area after tea to get a carton. ‘Only Clive and Anne live there, love,’ Maurice said. ‘Why would his mother be a problem?’ Alec would not explain why, and after getting a string of pleading questions, he put down his tea mug with a bang. ‘O.K., so you fellers really want to know? Clive will kick the shit out of me.’

I gave him an encouraging smile, earning a grin of relief.

‘Remember our trip to Amsterdam?’ he began. ‘Must be twenty years ago now…a long time anyroad. I saw all that crazy stuff in the souvenir shops, nothing to my liking, but then I found something…and I got an idea straight away…That shop assistant must have thought I was mad, because I just stood there, nearly pissing myself laughing…So I buy the thing, right, and some other rubbish for my friends…I showed it to you, Clive, didn’t I, when we were having espresso at the airport.’ ‘You did,’ I said. ‘I thought it was grotesque, but I figured you’d bought it for yourself.’

‘So anyroad,’ he went on. ‘You should know, Clive, and I’m sorry if I insult you, you’re a fine bloke and all, but your mum, that’s a different thing. She had a company car, right, so she could have had it cleaned at a car wash and charge it to her credit card…But she wouldn’t. One day she comes up to me while I was outside loading a truck, and she says: ‘Oh, Mr. Scudder, would you be so kind as to clean my car in the washing area for our vans?’ ‘I’m sorry, Mrs. Durham, I’m a forklift driver,’ I say. ‘I can’t just stop loading, my supervisor won’t allow it.’ So she smiles and says I can do it after my shift and I’ll get paid overtime. So I say yes and since that day, it’s the same song, twice a week: ‘Oh, Mr. Scudder, would you be so kind…’ as if her Mercedes ever got dirty, it never did…Yes, I got paid, but then the complaints come. ‘Mr. Scudder, there is mud on the carpet under the pedals, don’t you ever wipe your feet before you get in?’ ‘Mr. Scudder, there’s dandruff on the headrest, would you please keep your head up when you drive my car?’ ‘Mr. Scudder, I found a dent in the number plate. It wouldn’t have been you, would it?’ And all the while my warehouse mates are laughing at me, thinking I’m sweet on the old lady…Sorry, Clive…I got pretty bloody sick of it, I tell you…So after we got back from Amsterdam, she comes up to me and before she can ask, I say: ‘No problem, Mrs. Durham, I’ll wash the Mercedes after my shift.’ And then…’

He started to laugh, coughing helplessly, shaking. Maurice was intrigued. It was a very exciting story. ‘Here, have one,’ I said to Alec, pushing my pack of Marlboros towards him. ‘I’ll get more later.’ Alec nodded, lit up and grinned.

‘So there I am, the Mercedes is all clean and dried and polished, and then I stuck the thing from Amsterdam onto the flap of the boot. And then I drove the car back to the executives’ car park and put it in its place with the rear end facing the wall…’ He started chortling. ‘So she never saw it when she drove off later…Well, next morning she calls me into her office…She’s mad as a bull, shouting at me because on her way home the night before, the other drivers had been honking and flashing their headlights and making all kinds of gestures…The print on the sticker was large enough for all to see…and for me to get fired on the spot.’

‘What did it say then?’ Maurice asked, puzzled. I knew, but I wanted Alec to tell, because every word out of his mouth was so deliciously sordid and juicy, as was this whole story. ‘Well,’ Alec sighed, out of breath with glee. ‘It said: Don’t walk on the grass – smoke it! See driver for details.’

Interested? Check this link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31992058/chapters/79240288

#maurice #maurice fanfic #e m forster #james ivory #read on ao3

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timeoverload · 6 months

Text

I am so worn out. It felt like a really long day. I have had a headache since I went to bed last night. I couldn't take anything for it because I have my appointment tomorrow. Hopefully it goes away before then.

This morning was very awkward because the morning team lead and I still aren't talking. I do enjoy the silence but it is a very tense environment to be in. I haven't been in this situation since I started there. The lady that trained me was not very nice but we got along ok for a while. One day she found out what the last 3 digits of my phone number were and she thought I was the devil. She ignored me for months because of that. It was ridiculous and I think that's a stupid reason not to talk to someone. Anyway, I also found out that he isn't planning on going anywhere so that sucks. He went to ask my boss if he would be able to take 3 weeks off for his wedding next year. I already know that I am not going to have a good time if I stick around.

I was annoyed earlier while I was in decontam washing a pan because that creepy guy was doing his decontam shift and he wouldn't stop talking to me. He was trying to convince me to go bowling with him. I am not going to do that and I wish he would stop calling me his friend. I'm only nice because I have to be professional. I don't know what else I would have done to give him that idea because I do my best to avoid and ignore him. I wish they would stop asking him to work upstairs. It would be nice if I could just tell him I have a boyfriend so maybe he would back off then.

The afternoon was very busy and I didn't think it was going to be that bad. There was a specialty bilateral case and that took forever and they used a ton of stuff for it. The doctor was being a dick according to the tech and he kept asking them to open more instruments even though it wasn't necessary. He wasn't happy with anything they gave him. I inspected them and they are totally fine. He is just very picky and he was in a bad mood. I think he might have been stressed so I guess I can understand that. He doesn't do that procedure very often. He used a lot of stuff for his other cases too so I had a big pile at the end of the day. I didn't get all of it done but I don't even care. I just focused on the important things. I didn't put anything away even though my shelf was overflowing. I wanted to go home and sit down so badly.

I left and I made myself stop and get fast food. I knew I wouldn't eat anything if I didn't do that. I haven't had that in so long and I ate too much. I feel really gross but I think I needed to do that. I haven't been eating the best and I have been snacking too much. I didn't eat lunch today because they had wings and they looked horrible. I wasn't going to waste $7 on that. I'm just glad I'm full now.

Somehow I am still gaining weight but I think part of that is due to my soda intake. I haven't had a Dr. Pepper in 2 days and I'm grumpy about it. I know I need to stop because it's causing a lot of problems for me. I can also tell when my blood sugar is too high and it's not a pleasant feeling. I am afraid that I will develop diabetes if I don't stop because that runs in the family. I can have one sometimes but I can't do it every day anymore. I think that part of the reason my head hurts is because I am having horrible withdrawals. It's annoying but I think I am ready to quit now. I am just going to be sleepy all the time I guess.

I wish it wasn't so late but I am going to try to relax for a little while anyway. I don't have much else to say at the moment. I already got ready for bed and I'm cozy. I hope I don't fall asleep right away but I don't want to be tired tomorrow either. I think it will be a good day and I am looking forward to it. :)

I hope everyone else has a good day tomorrow too!!! 💖💖💖

#personal

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jjtheclown555 · 2 years

Note

We need more mommy haitani 😫😫

ask and you shall receive!

Mother Dearest Pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

tw. cursing, description of domestic abuse, minor references to smoking and drinking of minors and adults, descriptions of assault, that feeling when you are going to do something bad and your mom already knows, not proofread

content. haitani brothers mother raises them after they are released from prison

pairings. none, just a mother raising her boys

word count. 2.4k words

a/n. since people enjoyed the first part, I wrote a part two for these boys. I feel like part one was better written but I hope this is still enjoyable!

I remember when me and Rindou were young. The memories of our parents divorce is faint, the nights mom would stay late with her lawyers to ensure she got full custody even fainter. I remember when cigarettes would go between our mother's lips as she watched us play in the backyard, reading whatever trashy magazine she picked up this week. I remember when I’d hear her muttering about our father while she sipped wine late at night before realizing we were there. I now know she made an effort to ensure we never knew what happened between her and our father, just saying that the relationship didn’t work out.

I didn’t understand until I was 9 years old, when I realized why she didn’t want us to know. That was the first time I saw my mother afraid as the man we called our father hit her, telling her to give him rights over us, thinking we were sleeping. I saw her wide eyes before she held her arms in front of her face, which only resulted in him hitting her stomach. I remember the yelling as she would try to force him out of the house, the shoving and yelling, and tears threatening to spill from her eyes which she refused to let fall, as it’d take away her only power in the situation.

It wasn’t until now I realize she kept shoving him and putting up with being hit that night for us, so we wouldn’t get hit by him too. I barely thought before I moved to keep him away from our mother. I told Rindou to call the police before standing between them as fast as I could, our father immediately softening to make it seem like he hadn’t been hitting my mother over and over until blood started drpping from her mouth.

When the police arrived, he was immediately taken away and the 3 of us were brought to the station in a different cop car. Our mother was hyperventilating, holding onto me and Rindou as tightly as she could. She would whisper reassurances, apologies, and thanks over and over. Me and Rindou were just confused as to why he had hurt her, our young selves had promised to never make her sad like he did. I guess we broke that promise.

My recollection of the past was quickly brought to a halt. The sound of my mother calling me for dinner is a harsh wake-up call after remembering her fear. I slipped out of my bed and walked to the table, Rindou already sitting next to my seat. I sit on the chair next to him when my mother places our bowls in front of us, a meal I used to eat with casualty now looks like a delicacy after the bare minimum that was prison food. She gave us a nice serving of nikujaga, ensuring we can have more if we need. She sat across from us, praying before eating a some of her stew.

She was far more religious than me or my brother. She would take us to church every week, surprising anyone who hadn’t known her with her Christian beliefs. She always jokes about how if she she was alive during the salem witch trials, she’d be burned at the stake before meeting Jesus. This was due to her fascination with witchcraft and paganism, joking in how she’d hex our father if she could.

Humour was her coping mechanism, using it to defend herself from the thoughts eating her up from the inside. Her laughter had been infectious, even if the subject of the matter was something we knew was traumatic for her, we can’t help but laugh along. She’d probably be uncomfortable if we hadn’t responded with joy. It was odd to say the least, each of us knowing what their marriage did to her. We know it broke a piece of her, disregarding all the times she claimed it just made her stronger.

She’d always been strong. For fucks sake, we knew about all the shit from her childhood. We knew how much she had to work to make a stable life with all the mistakes from her youth. While I don’t know about Rindou, I know how guilty I feel when realizing I’ve made her same mistakes.

Bit after bit of our meals disappear, me and Rindou ready to excuse ourselves after all three of us had finished our dinner. Our mother stopped us before we could leave. “Just wait here for a minute. You didn’t think I wouldn’t have anything to say, did ya?” Me and Rindou stay in our seats. Waiting patiently as water falls over every dish, and the sight of a sponge pressing soap onto our dirty dishes can be seen from the kitchen. We sit in silence, knowing Mom would be finished with the dishes soon enough.

And she was. Taking the place she was seated beforehand back. She takes a few moments to breathe, putting her head in her hands. She lifts her head up, resting it against her palm. “I’m not angry with you,” she begins, sighing deeply, “if I was, I’d be a damn hypocrite.” We nod along, a bit lost at her tensity. “Did I ever tell you about when I got arrested?”

Me and Rindou look at each other and back to our mother before shaking our heads. Rindou speaks up, a bored look crossing his face. “No. You only ever told us that you were arrested for assault in your third year of middle school.” He seems confused but she simply lights a cigarette, taking a drag before beginning to explain.

October 22nd, 1976

A friend of mom’s was crying, mom consoling her as she tried to ease the tears falling from her friends eyes. Her friend’s boyfriend had cheated, and mom—the protective soul she is—was pissed. She held her friend close, giving a tight hug to her as she whispered reassurances. When her friend was calm, she had left the bathroom they were in, promising it’d be taken care of.

It wasn’t until after school, later at night that she found him and his friends in an alley. They were drinking together, her friends boyfriend with a girl clinging to his arm. She pulled a smile, walking up to the boys and asking non-chalently to the boy she was focusing on, “Don’t you have a girlfriend?” This caused the girl clinging to him to get defensive, clutching his arm tighter. He eases her off, standing up to our mom and brushing her off.

He was a lot larger than her, taller and more muscular. He stood up straight, knowing she was friends with his soon-to-be ex, and attempting to intimidate her. She didn’t take it however, explaining that she knew about him sleeping around while in a relationship. He took this as an insult, attempting to appear even more threatening, unable to faze our mother. Despite being young, and having such a size difference, she kicked him, hard, in the stomach, causing him to hunch over in pain. She hit him repeatedly in his face, beating him the same as me and Rindou had done. Not to the point of killing him, though. The police his friends had called arriving before she could beat him in too bad.

He suffered deformation of his face, a broken nose, jaw, and a shattered rib from when she had kicked him. She however, was sentenced to 2 years of imprisonment with work for aggravated assault. He was lucky he didn’t lay a hand on her, she knows how to manipulate situations for her benefit and would’ve gotten a minimal sentence if he had.

She explained it all in as much detail as she could remember. We sat in silence, unsure of what to say. She however, knew exactly what to do. She ruffled our hair a little and wandered back to her room, shutting the door behind us.

Rindou and I reveled in our guilt. She made the same mistake we did, and we realize exactly how upset she must’ve been. She must be disappointed in herself for allowing us to follow in her footsteps. I know she has regrets. Going to prison being one of them, marrying our father being another. But I’m sure that not stopping us from making the same mistake she did, has to be the greatest. She’s shown time after time that the two of us weren’t regrets, that she loves us.

And once again, my guilt shifts to pity for this poor, pitiful mother. “What a pathetic woman,” I say out loud. I stand up, taking paces back to my room, noticing my brother still hasn’t moved from his chair. I walk past mom’s room, the sweet smell of vanilla that overwhelms the smoke fills me even with the door shut tight. Oh, what a lovely little home that mom created.

When I reach for the doorknob, I can hear some shifting from back at the table. I quickly turn to look at my brother, who—while still in his chair—has turned to look at me. “Shove it up your ass, Ran.” He says, his face still relaxed and lacking emotion. Every now and then, he starts reminding me of mom. His sternness, his snark. He’s too blank-slated to be exactly like her but god does the resemblance show at times. When he dismisses my pity, his words, tone, posture, and stare, they all resemble her. That doesn’t bother me though, I just roll my eyes at him and slip through the threshold to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

I glance over each drawer in my dresser, taking a few items of clothing from them. A simple t-shirt and black sweatpants, nothing too intriguing. However, it’s all I need to go from my room to the washroom, turning the shower on, just warm enough to not be freezing but still cold enough to handle the constant warmth in the house. I always take colder showers because of the temperature that mom keeps the house at. The only time she turns off the furnace is in the summer, and even then it’s after a lot of begging from me and Rindou.

I remove my clothes and slip into the shower, water falling over my skin. I grab the conditioner on the ledge, massaging it into my scalp and working my way down through the rest of my hair, washing it out before repeating the process with shampoo and conditioner one more time. I can hear some noise outside the shower but the flowing water blocks out my ability to identify it. I smooth soap over my skin and wash it off, repeating the steps for each body part until I’m clean. I then shut off the water, the noise from outside the washroom growing more and more noticeable. Mom and Rindou are chatting about something, the tones of their voices make it unclear whether it’s an argument or not. Nevertheless, I dry off, pick up a towel, and put on my fresh pair of clothes.

When I step out of the washroom, attempting to dry my hair, I can better understand their discussion. It’s not an argument per se, but Rindou is getting a bit too heated and I’m preparing for him to get a little too smart-mouthed for mom's liking. Rindou is asking her if he could go out tonight, I know that it’s about meeting with Izana as he had asked of us. In prison, shortly before his release, we promised we’d meet with him about his goals after we were released as well but it isn’t working out that way.

I ignore them, heading back to my room as mom begins to get passive-aggressive with Rindou. I also need to use the number Izana told us so I can let him know we won’t make it.

Before I can leave, however, the words I hated most came out of mom’s mouth. It cut my soul into pieces as I could predict exactly what was going to happen. “Ran, baby, don’t go yet, I need you to explain to your brother why I’m not trustin’ you two out of my goddamn house.” I sigh, accepting my fate as she wouldn’t let me leave until I have taken her side. “Now, don’t give me the attitude, just get over here, son.”

I walk over to them both and Rindou shows on his face that he’s already given up, knowing that there’s no convincing her once I’m on her side. I’m not entirely on her side, either way, I understand why she doesn’t want us out but that doesn’t make me any less disappointed. Regardless, if I don’t act as though I agree with her wholeheartedly, I know I’m in for it. “‘Goddamn?’ Using the lord's name in vain, how sinful.”

“Don’t give me lip, just explain to Rindou. Maybe he’ll better understand it coming from his brother rather than his oh-so heartless mother.”

I sit at the dining room table with them, thinking of every lecture she’s given me and every time she’s used me and Rindou to convince each other right at this same table. Oh, what lovely memories. I take a deep breath and relay the same points I’m sure she was making about how we just got out of prison and how she can’t trust that we won’t get into trouble again.

As I’m talking, I glance at her and see the biggest smile across her face, she looks almost devious as she cuts me off. “Y’know what? I’ve got a great idea that will allow you two to go out!” Rindou looks as though he scored with this comment. I suppose he just doesn’t learn that when mom says she has a great idea to let us do what we want, it’s only good for her. And of course, my suspicions are correct as the words that come out of her mouth turn my already-shattered soul to ash. “I’ll come with you both!” Rindou’s mouth gapes and I rest my head in my hands. Of course, this would be her condition. “I mean, if you have nothing to hide and are doing nothing wrong then that shouldn’t be a problem, right?” The heavy looks to her make her smile wider.

“Will you tell me what you’re going out for or will I just have to come with you guys and find out myself?”

I know this took forever but I'm trying to finish stuff before I post my biggest project (a fanfic on ao3 and wattpad) as well as doing a shit-ton of studying so I don't fail my tests, and just burnout but I finally got the motivation to finish it and I hope it meets your expectations!

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crumbledcastle28 · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5: An Old Friend

Warnings: this one is mostly fluff, so I don’t think there are any warnings. Maybe references to past trauma? If I’m missing one please lmk!

Author’s Note: Chapter 5!! Enjoy!!

(gif gotten from javierian)

After the little…. predicament with the last mission…. you couldn’t deny that you had gotten closer with the anonymous man you had been living with.

You made pleasant conversation, never too deep, but you felt more comfortable in his company. You had felt the same way with Peli… but this was different.

Your heart rate would increase whenever he would talk to you, and your mood would increase as well. You were excited to get to know him! This man who had taken you in knowing absolutely nothing about you. The least you could do was make him feel comfortable around you, and that didn’t even feel like enough.

It made you happy when he would ask you questions, like “did you enjoy the dinner last night” or “how did you sleep.”

It felt good to have someone be curious and care about you in your present state, not just your past or your abilities. And you loved to ask him questions too.

If you were lucky, he would tell you a story about an old job he did, and those were the best. It was like getting little pieces to a much larger, beautiful puzzle. A puzzle you prayed you would see finished by the end of your time with him.

The best interaction you had, by far, was when he finally ate with you.

It had been a nice day. You guys had stopped for supplies and it felt good to stretch your legs a little bit.

You found a great little food stand that had fresh meat and vegetables, and you knew you could make a delicious meal out of it. You shared your excitement with Mando, who nodded and helped you carry the supplies back to the crest.

Once you made it back and put all the supplies down in the incredibly tiny kitchen, you went to work.

You used amazing spices that you hadn’t tasted in weeks on the meat, and made sure to brown the vegetables in the same pan you used for the meat. That way they would soak up the amazing rendered flavors that the meat left over. After that, you put it all together in a pot and poured savory chicken broth in to mix the flavors.

Your stomach was grumbling at the smell alone.

The kid was hungry too, you could tell by the way he stared at you while you worked, so you made sure to save a hefty serving for him when you poured the meal into serving bowls.

You gave the little guy his serving and set yours right next to his on the dining table. You then carried Mando’s serving to the cockpit to give it to him.

You had an idea…. and you hated how you got your hopes up that he would agree.

You stood behind the pilot’s chair for a moment, until you finally took a deep breath and said, “Dinner is ready.”

Mando spun around in his chair and took the bowl from you.

“This smells amazing. Thank you,” he said and got up to walk to his room. He always ate in there because of his creed, and you felt a pull on your heartstrings every time you would think about him eating all alone. You wanted him with you and the kid. You felt full when you three were together, and Mando eating alone felt like you were leaving him out. You knew what that felt like, and you never wanted to inflict it on others.

This was it. This was the moment.

“Wait,” you said, and he turned back around to you, still holding the bowl in his hands.

Every time he looked at you straight on you felt your nerves creep up your spine and your hands become fidgety. You felt cheesy and stupid. This man was basically your roommate, not some partner you needed to impress.

But why does it feel that way?

“I uh… I was thinking that maybe.. we could figure out a way to eat together? I feel bad that you have to eat alone in your room, so maybe I could.. I don’t know.. turn around? And get the kid to do that as well? If you aren’t comfortable with that I totally get it, I just.. feel really bad that you don’t have anyone to eat with,” you say.

Of course he will say no. Why would he trust someone to just “turn around?” As if they wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse?

Your hopes were sinking every moment he stood in silence, and you weren’t liking your chances.

He looked down at his bowl and then back up at you, and these were the moments you wished he wasn’t so good at hiding his emotions. You wanted to see and feel what he was thinking, but he was impenetrable. He was like a stone wall, and you hated it.

He sighed, obviously thinking about what you said, and you just waited. You didn’t want to pressure him anymore. He can make his own decisions, and you can deal with them.

“If I do that,” he says, “you have to swear to me… you won’t turn around. And you won’t let the kid turn either.”

Your eyes widened.

It worked, you think. How the hell did that work?

“I swear Mando. I will not turn around on any circumstance, and I will do everything in my power to keep the kid at bay. If he doesn’t want to cooperate, I will eat with him away from you just to be safe. I promise,” you say and he nods.

“Ok,” he mumbles, and you smile at him. A genuine smile. A smile that says all the things you wish you could say, but are too afraid.

You hoped he wasn’t as good at reading people as you were.

“Ok. Let’s go,” you say and he follows you back to the table.

“Ok kid. You’ve gotta turn around for me ok,” you say to the kid and he babbles something incoherent.

“Thank you for the compliment on the food. I’ve known that recipe for a while,” you say with a giggle while turning his chair around.

You turn yours around as well and grab your bowl to set on your lap.

You and the child are now facing away from Mando, eating your dinner, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your belly slowly becoming more full calms your excitement, until you hear a small hiss and the sound of metal scratching the floor.

It’s off. Mando’s helmet is off.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

He did it. He really trusts me to do this.

You hear the sounds of him eating the soup and you swear this couldn’t get any better.

You go back to eating with a huge grin on your face, and you keep the child in your peripheral vision to make sure he doesn’t turn either.

You had connected with him through the force a couple of times since your first meeting. You had gotten better at reading the little one, and you could see just a faint look of understanding in his body language.

He didn’t waver. He didn’t squirm. He just ate as still as he could, and you were so grateful.

Seriously? This was all it took for the kid to behave, you wondered to yourself

Mando mumbling, “This is really good,” shatters through your thoughts like ice.

Mando’s voice. His true voice, just hit your ears for the first time ever, and you wanted it burned into your brain forever. You never wanted to hear anything different.

It wasn’t just the sound of it, but the feeling. You could hear the gratitude in his voice and it sent chills down your arms.

It was him. His voice. Something no one could ever replicate. It was truly his own.

“Thank you,” you say and take another sip of your soup. Your appetite has basically vanished at this point, and your ears just yearn to hear more.

“I think the kid is enjoying himself,” you say, and you pray you get Mando’s rarest gem of all in its rawest form.

And you do.

He gives a soft chuckle of a laugh. “Yeah, I think so too,” he says and takes another bite.

If you dropped dead right now, you would die a happy woman.

How do you even iterate what that felt like? What it felt like to hear this big, scary, metallic man give off something so vulnerable to you.

Had other people heard this at all? Maybe not even since he was a child?

Your hands started to shake from the endorphins and you finished your bowl. You took the kid’s bowl as well and placed it inside your own and just sat. Just soaked in this happy moment that you never wanted to end.

If only you knew how big of a smile Mando had on his face behind you.

~~*~~

A few days pass and the energy on the ship is the best it’s ever been.

You had eaten dinner together every day since then, and you wondered how something so simple could make you so….happy.

Mando was at his pilot’s chair (as usual) and he called for you to come to the cockpit.

Luckily it was pretty late, so the kid was passed out.

You made your way to the cockpit and saw that Mando had an image broadcasting from the ship’s holoprojecter. The image was of a man with a darker skin tone and flecks of grey in his hair. He looked like he had been through a lot, as his clothes were slightly tattered and ripped.

“I’d like you to hear this,” Mando said before pressing play.

The man in the image proceeded to explain how ranks of ex- imperial guards were ruling over his city and they needed Mando’s help to take them down. He proposed that Mando return to Nevaro and bring the child as bait, and once they got near the client, Mando would kill him.

The man said that if Mando succeeded, he would have his name cleared in the Guild and he can keep the child.

The clip ended and Mando turned to face you.

“What do you think,” he asked, and you looked to the floor with knit eyebrows, thinking.

“Bringing the child as bait is incredibly risky, but if you trust that man, I don’t see a problem with it. You can take down ex- Imperial guards no problem,” you say, and he nods.

“I’m just confused how you even know that man,” you say.

“He’s… an old friend,” Mando says, and you don’t like the sound of that.

“We kinda got off on the wrong foot last time we talked,” he said, and you nodded.

“So… he is saying you get to keep the child if you succeed, but we have had him this whole time?”

“There’s something you need to know,” he says, and he goes to explain how he really got the child, and how he has been being hunted by the Empire this whole time.

Throughout the explanation, you listen intently, nodding and keeping eye contact with Mando.

You would think that the fact that the Empire had been on your tracks the whole time would scare you, but it doesn’t.

It fuels you. You three were pissing the Empire off, and there was nothing you liked doing more.

You felt powerful. Unstoppable. For once you were making them mad, not the other way around. And you liked it.

You are not angry at Mando, not even a little. You feel relieved.

This perfect man who had given you nothing but happiness….wasn’t perfect. You had so many demons, and you found someone who did too. Someone who did something bad for the right reasons. You found a good person, who did the right thing because it was right. He had a good heart rather than an ego, and he let you in on something so precious to him. This child.

And you were not gonna let the galaxy rip him away.

Once he finished, you took a deep breath. You looked at him and smiled.

“You know…I am pretty relieved Mando,” you say, and he cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion.

“I thought you looked like that under the helmet,” you say, gesturing with your head to the sleeping green creature behind you, and you laugh.

Mando’s shoulders relax, and his grip on the arm rests of the pilot’s chair softens.

“Seriously Mando, it’s ok. You did the right thing. 99% of people would have just dumped the kid and left. I am proud of you. I am proud to be on this mission,” you say.

“If saving a baby from the Empire gets me arrested, then by all means let them arrest me.”

Mando’s shoulders shake a little. It probably felt incredible to get this off his chest. He had been keeping this from you for a while.

I wonder if eating with me helped him trust me more?

“Ok,” he breathes out of his helmet. “Good. I was hoping you’d stay.”

“Oh I’m staying alright,” you say and he gives a breathy laugh.

“But this is your decision Mando. I am up for going or staying. I know you understand there are risks in both options,” you say, referring to the offer the man on the recording had given you earlier.

“Whatever you want to do. I trust you,” you say and his head snaps back to make eye contact with you.

You give him a weak smile, and allow what you said to sink through his beskar and into his skin.

I. Trust. You.

After a moment, he turns back to his controls and stares into space.

If you’re being honest, you have no idea what you would choose. If you don’t go, the kid will keep being hunted and at risk. If you do go, that man could betray you and get you all killed.

Mando is in deep thought, as are you, and you jump a little when he starts punching coordinates into the controls.

“Sorgan? Why Sorgan?” you ask.

He turns to face back to you, and you can only imagine the cocky smirk he has on his face.

“An old friend.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary

#din djarin #mando #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian

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gwynrielsupremacist · 3 years

Text

TWISTER

suggested by: @imsointobooks

Read at AO3

Gwyn knew her friends were doing it on purpose.

She fucking knew it.

Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie had been friends since they'd seen each other in preschool. Since then, no one thought of those three separately, they were a formidable trio.

Her companions knew that if they attacked one, you attacked all three.

They had decided to go to self defense classes because, honestly, the world sucks and you have to be prepared for anything.

And everything had gone great, they had signed up for classes. The problem was when they came to those classes and saw their coaches.

Damn.

Coaches weren't supposed to be that fucking good.

The first classes had gone well, they had been more destined to know each other than to anything else.

The problem was that it was impossible to try to pay attention to the exercises if your coach was that hot.

There were two of them, Cassian and Azriel. Apparently, the two had been thrown out of theie house as soon as they turned 18, and the best they did was fight, so they started a self-defense class.

Gwyn thought she remembered being told they boxed.

Well, that explained how they could have so many muscles.

Nesta said they even had muscle in their muscles, which was greeted with a laugh from the three friends.

But Nesta was not wrong.

According to her, she and Cassian knew each other before, having met at a party and, according to Nesta, she was sure they had slept.

She didn't know when or where, but she was sure of it.

And they hadn't been slow to go back to bed. Specifically, it had taken two months to get into each other's bed.

Gwyn didn't care about that, in fact, she liked Cassian, and loved that her friend was happy with him.

The problem was when she saw Azriel.

She was sure that Azriel was not interested in her.

But, Gwyn was interested in him.

And she was afraid of being friendzoned.

They were friends, talking to him almost daily, seeing each other four times a week for self-defense classes, and sometimes he even had invited her out to have a drink, but nothing more.

She had been that way for almost a year and a half.

And honestly, Gwyn couldn't take it anymore.

That day, she was assured that she was going to propose to Azriel. She might invite him for a drink, or she might ask Nesta and Emerie to help her have a moment alone with him.

They had stayed at Cassian's apartment, which had become Nesta's part-time house, since she spent more time there than at hers. The five of them had decided to have a party, with a lot of food, a lot of laughter, and a lot of alcohol.

And as much as her friends cheered her on, she knew that she wasn't going to make any progress with Azriel.

They flirted quite a bit, yes. In the relationship they had, flirting and bantering was never lacking.

But Gwyn didn't know if they were joking or if he was really interested in her.

Although, that man was never going to be interested in her.

Those were Gwyn's thoughts as she got ready in Nesta's rented house, alongside Emerie, who was putting on a good deal of mascara and lipgloss.

"In the end you go with Mor after being with the boys?" Nesta asked Emerie, while putting on tight black pants and a crop top, accentuating her full, round breasts. Emerie said no, searching in the wardrobe a dress she could wear that night.

She wished she had that body. She did not like her own, she seemed completely undesirable, with so many freckles, so few curves ...

"Gwyn, if you're thinking again that you don't like your body, I swear I'll hit you with the 24-centimeter heels." Nesta threatened, holding some gorgeous black party heels in her hand.

"Are you going to wear those? You'll fall in the middle of the sidewalk… ”Gwyn advised, putting on some blue eyeshadow, accentuating her teal eyes, the only aspect of her features that she loved.

"No, I'm going to take these to give you the hell out of you if you keep thinking you're not pretty." Nesta protested, dropping her heels with a crash. She heard Emerie curse when her eyeliner moved from the bump of her heels. Emerie shot Nesta a nasty look as she reached for some make-up remover wipes and brushed off the hideous part of the eyeliner.

Gwyn avoided answering, getting up from the chair she had been sitting in for at least 15 minutes to go to the closet, opening it with a huff when she saw that she had nothing to wear.

"Do you want me to lend you my miniskirt? I think I have one that is too small for me, it may take you..." Emerie proposed, smiling when she felt satisfied with her eyeliner.

Gwyn denied, rummaging through the hangers until she found baggy jeans and a white blouse that revealed much of her collarbones and the curve of her breasts.

Glad, she undressed in the middle of the room, looking for the strap to adjust the jeans.

"Today are you going to say something to Azriel or are we going to return to the same vicious circle of 'Hello, I like you very much and it is obvious that you like me too, but since we are both assholes, we don't realize it?'"

"He doesn't like me. Also, he didn't like one of the girls in our college class? What was that girl's name ...? " Gwyn thought aloud, not remembering the name of that lucky girl who had gotten the attention of the handsome Azriel.

"The day he eats your mouth we are going to pretend to be surprised." Emerie mused, picking up her purse and hanging it over her shoulder, adjusting her gold dress snugly, ready to step out of it.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, but a spark of hope began to glow inside her.

Maybe today was the day ...

Arriving at Cassian and Azriel's loft, they stood waiting in the entryway, the cool summer air cooling their already sweaty bodies.

Suddenly she heard passing, the door opening and coming out Cassian, in a T-shirt and jeans.

Smiling, he gave Nesta a tender kiss on her lips, and then smiled at the other two.

Emerie and Gwyn smiled back at him, but the latter was a lot busier looking for the other trainer.

Cassian grinned: "Looking for something, Gwynnie, or someone?"

Gwyn snorted grumpily: "Azriel wasn't coming?"

Cassian nodded, letting the three girls enter the loft to close the door to possible bugs on the street: “He's finishing his shower. We had a much longer boxing session than usual. "

Gwyn hummed, looking around the great house they had.

In sight was the living room, two immense sofas separated by a table, the television placed on the wall, televising some soccer game.

Suddenly, Gwyn heard a door open, and Azriel came out, flushed from the heat of the bathroom, already dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

Making sure he didn't see her, she glanced over at him.

Hell, the shirt had stuck to his abs, giving her a very good view of what he had hidden there.

Gwyn shyly approached her coach, and when she was almost an inch from him, she gently touched his back, causing him to turn.

Az's face lit up at the sight of her: “Gwyn. I thought you weren't coming today."

Gwyn frowned, smiling: "Why wouldn't I come?"

Azriel led her into the living room, where Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie were already attacking the bowls of food that were on the head table to one side of the sofas.

“I thought Cassian had told me you had theater class. Apparently, I got it wrong. "

Gwyn nodded, almost drooling at how good all that food smelled and looked.

She grabbed an elongated bag with a foreign substance inside, and while she took a bite, she asked him, politely: "How are you doing your final college work?"

Azriel was a senior in veterinary college, and he had a final work to do on it.

Azriel sighed, earning a smile from Gwyn: “Fatal, I can't find any information anywhere and besides, I only have three weeks left to deliver it. Right now I should be upstairs, looking for information."

"I can help you find information, I am quite good at that aspect of doing work."

Azriel smiled at her, grateful, but she thought she saw, before he went to where his brother was, that the gaze had rested for a few seconds on her lips.

She quickly shook her head, dismissing that possibility. It must have been an optical effect. Yes, it must have been that.

She walked over to where everyone was, sitting next to Emerie and Cassian, Azriel finding himself in front of her.

"How are you doing your first year of university?" Cassian asked, eating a slice of vegetable pizza.

Nesta looked at him in disgust, grabbing a slice of pizza with extra cheese and barbecue sauce: "That pizza should be off-limits."

Cassian looked at her, disappointed: “This good one! Taste it.” He asked, bringing it closer to Nesta's mouth.

Nesta chewed it, made a disgusted face, and took a good bite out of her portion, while she chewed, saying, “This is good. Not that vegetable crap. Pizza is supposed to make you fat, not lose weight."

Emerie supported her, but decided to grab a burrito, passing one to Gwyn, which she gladly accepted.

And so it was for most of the night, talking and teasing each other, until the moment came when the food disappeared, leaving room for the bottles of alcohol.

Gwyn wasn't used to drink, so she got a shot of piña colada, one of the few licors she loved, while Nesta held a bottle of vodka caramel, which she shared with Emerie.

"We have to do something. It's still twelve o'clock and no one is sleepy, right? "

Everyone denied, even the black cat that had magically appeared in Azriel's arms.

Gwyn looked at him in shock, pointing, "Have you adopted a cat?"

Azriel nodded, stroking the feline: “He appeared at the veterinary clinic where I practice. They asked the students if anyone wanted to keep it and, well, I always wanted a pet so… I kept it. " He said, smiling.

Emerie asked to hold the cat, holding it carefully, while she stroked his head lovingly.

"Is beautiful. What's it called?"

"Black cat." Cassian replied, proud of himself, as he continued: “If I am going to allow a pet in my loft, at least it will be called what I want, so it is called 'Black cat'.

Gwyn looked at Azriel, confused and amused.

Azriel grinned, picking up the cat that Emerie offered him.

Gwyn looked at Nesta, discovering that she had disappeared at any moment.

She looked at Cassian, asking, "Where is Nesta?"

He looked up the stairs, frowning: "She said she was going to find a game to play together."

Gwyn made a sound of assent, suddenly watching her golden-brown hair flutter as she came down the stairs, a giant box in her arms.

Cassian cursed, leaping up to help her girlfriend get things down, while whispering something in Cassian's ear, both of them grinning mischievously.

The game couldn't be seen from that position, but she saw Azriel look dangerously at Cassian, who couldn't stop smirking.

When Nes put the box down, the name of the game came out.

Twister.

Emerie looked amused at her friend, while Gwyn glared at her.

Those two had ganged up on her.

Nesta took out the cloth from inside the box, as well as the little wheel with the different colors and positions in it.

Emerie got up, dragging Gwyn, whom she no longer found the game amusing.

“Emerie, Cassian, Gwyn and Azriel, you guys play. I'll be the one spinning the wheel. " She announced as she dropped the fabric to the floor, smoothing it out.

Gwyn glanced at Nesta, promising imminent death, but she did nothing but laugh, kindly asking Gwyn to stand in her place.

"Okay, whoever falls loses." Nesta warned, supervising everyone to get in their places.

Satisfied, she began spinning the roulette wheel.

"Cassian, right hand in red."

Cassian made a rather pathetic attempt to get to the red, deciding to go down when it was obvious he was failing at purpose.

"Cassian, disqualified!" Nesta yelled with a mischievous smile.

To which Cassian replied, shrugging his shoulders: "Wow, I'm really bad at these things." He mocked up, sitting next to his girlfriend.

Nesta turned the roulette wheel again.

"Emerie, right foot in yellow."

Emerie did.

"Gwyn. Left hand in red. " Gwyn could be pretty sure she hadn't moved the spinner, but she let her be, putting her hand up.

Cassian spun the wheel: "Az, right hand in green."

And so they continued, until Emerie lost, crashing down on top of Gwyn.

It was all laughter until Gwyn and Azriel were left alone.

And, although Gwyn thought she would be fucking uncomfortable, her instinct urged her to fight, she couldn't let that man win.

So she played, the flexibility helping her in many moments.

Until her winning instinct faded, realizing what position she and Azriel were in.

Gwyn had both hands extended, while her feet were together, but she had Azriel down, and she knew her breasts were fucking close to his face.

And the bastard laughed.

She looked at him, enraged and embarrassed.

She felt a wave of pleasure run through her body when he winked at her.

"Hiii, Earth calling Gwyn, left foot to green." Nesta mocked, grinning.

Getting into a much more comfortable posture, she moved, her lips forming a mocking smile, a good 12 inches away from Azriel.

"Azriel, right hand to yellow."

Azriel ran his hand from green to yellow, staying quite close to her left foot.

Looking defiantly at Azriel, she made the next four or five moves, she wasn't sure.

Of course, she couldn't be sure since Azriel, in some way she couldn't understand, was underneath her, while Gwyn was straddling his hips.

Azriel grinned, listening carefully to the next position.

"Azriel, right foot to blue."

He had smirked, while she tilted her head, not understanding what the hell had made to smile like that, until, when he was lifting his foot, he raised his pelvis minimally, making his crotch crash against the parts more intimate of her.

She almost felt faint as that prominent bulge passed through her core, teasing.

Looking at Azriel with a strong blush on her features, she heard Nesta's next command.

"Gwyn, left hand to red."

Gwyn swore she had heard a chuckle as she said that.

Fuck.

She couldn't believe that she had to put that fucking hand in that fucking color.

Stretching out as far as she could, she placed her hand on the blue panel, but she had a serious little problem with that position.

Now her breasts were, no doubt, practically on top of Azriel's face.

And, although Azriel wore a somewhat embarrassed grin, it was suppressed by the bright eyes of mockery and pleasure.

She knew her own eyes must be that way.

"Azriel, left hand to green." Emerie laughed.

Those little bastards were going to pay for it.

As soon as she took care of the overwhelming lust and pleasure she felt in those moments, her clit pulsing dangerously close to his cock, they'll pay for it.

Azriel waved his hand, and suddenly both mouths were less than an inch apart.

Their breaths were paralyzed at that very moment.

Damn, what lips the very asshole had.

They were red from having licked them so much during the night.

They seemed to share thoughts right then and there as Azriel lowered his gaze from her eyes to her lips, licking his slowly.

Her core tightened, noticing how her panties got soaked little by little.

Gwyn, feeling daring, lowered her eyes to his lips, biting her bottom lip.

What tension. She was using all of her damn self-control not to kiss him, at least not in front of all of them.

Gwyn frowned suddenly, suspicious of those three.

Turning quickly, she watched as Emerie ate popcorn from a bucket, while Nesta and Cassian appeared to be enjoying a romantic comedy.

Hint: the rom-com was Azriel and her.

In addition, the roulette that it decided where to put each person's hands and legs was nowhere to be found.

Realizing her terrible deception, she jumped up from Azriel's lap, pointing her finger at Nesta: "You little son of a bitch! You weren't using the roulette wheel!"

Laughing slightly, Emerie replied, "She hasn't used it since I've stopped playing." She scooped a bunch of popcorn into her mouth before handing the bucket to Nesta.

Gwyn stared at her incredulously, Nesta saying, smirking: I thought you'd find out sooner."

At the same time, she felt betrayed and grateful.

Well, she had discovered that Azriel wanted her. At least it was something.

She noticed how Azriel approached her silently, and she would have expected him to place beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he normally did with her, or saying something to ease the sexual tension that had been there.

However, he got dangerously close to her earlobe, licking it with the tip of his tongue and then tugging at it, whispering seductively, "Are you ready for round 2?"

TAG LIST (tell me if you want to be tagged/removed): @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel @hlizr50 @meher-sumedha @heyovivi @positivewitch @greywarens-magician @sageofthegalaxy @valkygwyn @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @genya-berdara @katekatpattywack @ddsworldofbooks @secretlovelybeauty @starbornsinger

#gwynriel #gwynriel oneshot #a prompt? maybe #part 2? maybe 😋#azriel #gwyn #valkyrie #acosf

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assaily · 3 years

Text

I thought about saving this one, but i’ve been sharing it around for a while, so i may as well share it here, too.

Context: Allison and Diego borrow some empathy powers and use them to try and gain some insight on Five

Allison sipped her coffee for lack of anything better to do. She dallied for a time, unsure how to proceed, suddenly aware of the heavy weight that clung to them, and wondered if this was normal. It could have been exhaustion, considering the dark shadows beneath Five’s eyes. It felt deeper than just a bad night of sleep. This was what she’d been afraid of, what she was fully expecting to find and now found herself feeling diminished beneath.

“You hungry?” she asked when Five finished his coffee.

“No,” Five answered, the question hardly a blip on his radar.

“I could eat,” Diego said. Five usually said no to the offer of food unless it was put in front of him. He couldn’t resist once it was there, thankfully, so this little dance of two siblings pretending to cook for each other and secretly cooking for Five was not new. If Five himself noticed, he never said anything about it.

Allison got up from the table, snatching Five’s mug from beneath his fingers. He had been mindlessly tracing the rim and was genuinely startled from his thoughts when Allison took it from him. He said nothing, attention suddenly on her like a scalpel. She wasn’t sure if it was the power or her own imagination that made his scrutiny feel sharper than usual. She set a skillet to heat and refilled Five’s cup before taking it back to the table for him.

Suspicion burned at the hairs on her arms and she took a step back to meet Five’s piercing gaze. “What?” she asked.

“You’re being nice,” he muttered, an observation and a question rolled into one. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know what she wanted.

“Nothing,” she reassured without thinking. “I mean,” she corrected quickly when Diego gave her a sharp look. “I’m just feeling weird and you look tired. I miss my daughter,” she admitted, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Five blinked, something swirling around them at her admittance, a little like irritation, a lot like muted affection. “I’m not your kid, Allison, you don’t need to dote on me.”

She smiled around the confusing mix dusting the room. “Refilling your coffee is hardly doting,” she replied in a daze.

He shrugged, eyes falling down from her, the sharp focus softening at last. He took a sip of the coffee and it tasted like acceptance. She turned back to the fridge, fighting a smile as she pulled the sausages from the top shelf and added them to the pan. Soon the kitchen was filled with the sounds of sizzling and the smell of food; the anxiety had eased into something quiet and tired and easy to ignore.

She whisked eggs in a bowl, added milk and cheese and cooked it in the same pan as the sausage drippings once they’d finished. She divvied the food up on three plates and set them on the table. The whole meal took her less than twenty minutes, hardly any trouble at all but it felt good to do something for them. It soured when a flood of dread and disgust spilled across the table the moment she put the plate in front of Five. Her movements stuttered, taken by surprise, hesitating to watch him spear a sausage with the fork and nibble on one end like he hadn’t felt anything.

She exchanged a look with Diego, who’d paused mid-bite to watch Five as well.

Irritation suddenly simmered between them, a striking indecisiveness between anger and the urge to flee, anxiety washing over them again. It happened so fast, her and Diego nearly drowned in it. She put her own plate down before she dropped it, and moved to sit. The scrape of the chair on the floor was like someone physically hitting her.

“Five,” she said, her voice swimming.

Diego put down his fork, food untouched, and reached across the table to put a hand on Five’s shoulder. The old man vanished in a pop of light and reappeared by the counter next to the coffee pot. He poured himself another cup, his body lax and his movements smooth in sharp contrast to swirl of indignant rage pounding at the walls.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you too, but I don’t want to be involved.” He took a long slurp from the coffee, turning to regard them over the rim of it. “Play your games with someone else.” And with that he disappeared in a pop of light, leaving behind the traces of bitter irritation.

“Maybe it was breakfast?”

“What was wrong with eggs and sausage?” Diego asked.

Allison had no idea. Five was a bit weird about food, but she supposed surviving a few decades in an apocalypse could mess with someone’s ability to have a healthy relationship with eating. He was so skinny, and seemed to get skinnier every day. It was a challenge getting him to eat.

“Maybe he doesn’t like them.”

“Does Five like anything?” Diego asked. “Besides coffee.”

“Fluffernutters,” Allison said. It was the only thing she’d ever seen him choose for himself, besides the time he pilfered all the canned peaches from the cupboards and Klaus found them stashed under his bed. “Fruit?”

For lunch Allison asked Mom to chop up a fruit salad. Five emerged from his room around eleven a.m. like clockwork, usually for coffee. He arrived in the kitchen through one his rips, immediately splashing the room with an emotion that tasted like gunmetal. Allison couldn’t describe it other than dark, sardonic, and irritable. It twisted with the bleeding rawness she had felt earlier.

Five stopped in the doorway, dread spilling forth when he saw her and Diego waiting for him. And he knew they’d been waiting, she could feel him realize it, suspicion mixing with the dread. He scowled at them, a classically abrasive Five expression that she wouldn’t have blinked twice at yesterday.

It was surreal feeling the tumult underneath it.

Five went for the coffee. “Is there a reason you two are still here?”

“We live here,” Diego said.

“Don’t you have a job?” He said to Diego, voice and intonation both sharp and accusing.

“It’s my day off.”

“So you spend it sitting around the kitchen? What a productive use of your time.”

“Oh yeah?” Diego asked, temper flaring predictably. “What do you do around here all day? Huh?”

A bitterness, dark and sharp, encased the room like tar, bubbling with frustration and a delicately muted rage that felt utterly ancient. There was something there Allison wasn’t quite seeing, something deeper than whatever foul mood he was in.

“Why are you mad, Five?” Allison cut the tension like a knife, going against the grain.

“I’m not angry,” Five said, most definitely defending himself.

“You came down here and immediately started picking a fight,” she pointed out, watching his eyes dart from her to Diego and back again, caught out.

He scoffed, glancing down at the coffee cup in his hand, and she felt him switch at the realization. “Oh,” he said, folding inward on himself. Anger still shimmered off him, but it felt like he was trying to pull it back in, drink it down with the bitter burn of coffee in his throat. “The math is being uncooperative,” he gestured above his head in the general direction of his room several floors above them.

“Well you don’t have to take it out on us, you ass,” Diego said, his voice forgiving despite his words.

Shame descended like a fog, settling like an ache against her breast bone. She gestured at the table, desperate to dissipate that cloud. “Mom made fruit.”

Five glanced at her from beneath his bangs but latched onto the change in subject. “Made, huh?”

“She didn’t ‘make’ the fruit, she cut it up though. Do you want some?”

There was a bubble of emotions that came up in the form of hesitation, it was old and complicated and Allison didn’t know how to sift through it fast enough to make any sense of it. Five pursed his lips, shrugged one shoulder and stepped over, holding his coffee in one hand casually. He considered the medley, genuinely perusing the selection, which was more than she could say for breakfast. He chose a pitted peach, cut in half, pulling it from the mix with slender fingers.

“That’s all?”

“Hmm?” he paused, dropping the peach-half back into the salad.

“You can take more,” she felt compelled to inform him.

“I know,” he said, which struck her for the lie it was. She had to swallow that quickly lest it show on her face.

“Get a bowl, take as much as you want.” He could take the whole damn thing, if it pleased him, and none of them would stop him or even admonish him.

The prickle of suspicion resurfaced, and he withdrew his hand away from the bowl, staring at her. His eyes flicked to Diego, mistrust wafting up like a foul smell. He leaned back, straightening to his full height and it was like a veil descended over him, and him alone. A muting of everything, like a layer of cloud, fog, or smoke that socked him in, pushing them out. He took a sip of his coffee, still watching them, before vanishing again in a pop of light.

Diego sighed, deflating next to her. “You can’t push directly, you keep spooking him.”

She groaned in frustration, pillowing her face on her arms on the table. “And here I thought this would be easier than trying to guess.”

She startled up when a returning pop announced Five’s re-arrival. He landed inches from the table wielding a knife from god knows where, which he used to spear several large pieces of fruit. He vanished again without pretense, leaving her stunned and blinking.

From somewhere upstairs, peach flavored delight bloomed on her tongue.

#tua fic #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #diego hargreeves #number five #fanfic #this one wanted to be so much more #and i had more ideas for it #please enjoy it in its tragically incomplete form

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starks-hero · 4 years

Text

It’s Just a Head Cold

Pairing: Sherlock x Sick!Reader

Request: Can I request Sherlock taking care of a reader who is sick 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Summary: Sherlock may make a great detective, but he's a bloody awful doctor.

Warnings: depictions of illness, throwing up

Word Count: 1,436

“I'm dying,” you moaned, pulling the blanket over your eyes to escape the brightness of the room.

“Don't you think you're being slightly melodramatic?” Sherlock's voice was muffled above you as he took a seat on the side of your bed.

“No, I'm pretty sure I'm dying.” You buried into your pillow as the throbbing in your head intensified.

“You have a common cold, Y/N. Hardly anything worth dying over,” Sherlock added, gently peeling the blanket back to reveal your trembling form. You groaned, the light adding to your headache.

Had your eyes not been screwed shut, you would have seen the small sympathetic smile that pulled at Sherlock's lips. He brushed a few stray strands of hair from your sleek forehead and pressed his hand to your skin. You were burning up, yet your limbs still shook uncontrollably. Fever.

“Still feels like I'm dying.”

“That's because you're a drama queen,” Sherlock remarked fondly.

The little strength your body possessed proved enough for you to sit up in bed at Sherlock's statement. “Excuse me? I'm the drama queen in this relationship?”

Sherlock stood and headed for the bedroom door, his turned back hiding his smile. “Right now? Yes.”

Sherlock ducked just in time to avoid the pillow that had been aimed at his head.

“Point proven.”

You whined at your failed attempt to quite literally knock some sense into your boyfriend and flopped back on the bed. You felt like you'd swallowed sand, your stomach was churning and the persistent pounding in your head was yet to cease.

Sighing, you buried back into your pillow. You figured if the nauseous feeling showed no sign of stopping, you might as well catch some more sleep. It would be a brief release.

You had just begun to doze back off into a somewhat peaceful sleep when Sherlock's rather loud re-entrance woke you. You drowsily sat up as Sherlock gently kicked open the door. A look of mild confusion clouded your expression when you noticed what was in his hands.

“Did you- did you make that?” you asked, glancing at the bowl of soup he'd just placed on the bedside table.

Sherlock nodded but you could sense his well-hidden yet ever-present worry. Sherlock wasn't exactly a natural cook. He himself, when he did eat, mostly lived off take out and small snacks. Any cooking knowledge had been tossed out of his mind palace as he considered it completely useless if other people could just do it for him. The only time he ever actually used the utensils in the kitchen was to boil body parts and microwave things that should not be microwaved, all in the name of science.

But it was clear that he had made a genuine effort to make the soup, (if that's what it could be called) and you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little bit touched by the uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

“Don't you want it?” Sherlock's nerves voiced themselves in what others would mistake as a spout of irritation.

“No, no, I mean I do! It's just-” you smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

Sherlock smiled back, seeming very pleased with himself. He watched carefully as you grabbed the bowl and raised a spoonful to your lips.

It didn't look half bad, and despite your blocked nose, it smelled pretty good too. You had grown wary of ingesting anything Sherlock gave to you, (ever since you'd discovered he'd been poisoning your tea for weeks to help you ‘build up an immunity’) but the soup seemed pretty safe. Besides, how bad could it possibly be?

The moment the spoon passed your lips you recognized your misplaced trust. It's not that it tasted bad, it just didn't really taste like anything. However, your stomach was quick to voice it's distaste and leaped into your throat as you swallowed down the first spoonful. To be fair, there was a very high chance that it could have nothing to do with Sherlock's cooking and everything to do with your head cold.

You tried to hide your grimace, but attempting to fool Sherlock Holmes is like trying to convince an astronomer that the world isn't round.

“You don't like it?”

“No, it's not that. It's just-” You brought your hand to your mouth, afraid that the soup may make a reappearance. “I don't think I can stomach anything right now.”

Sherlock's eyes widened with worry. He nodded in understanding and grabbed the still very much full bowl of soup, almost as if it's very presence worsened your illness. It was heartwarming to see how the ‘cold and callous Sherlock Holmes’ turned as soft as butter around those he cared for.

“Try to get some rest,” he whispered, kissing the side of your head. “I'll ask Ms Hudson if she's got anything for an upset stomach. We can try some food again later.”

You nodded, sinking back into the mattress as Sherlock pulled the blanket up further with his free hand.

You sighed and closed your eyes, figuring there was nothing you could do but wait for Sherlock to return. You were just beginning to relax when you felt a horrid churning in your stomach. You groaned at the feeling, attempting to swallow it down. But it only worsened, your insides surely resembling a washing machine.

You unceremoniously scrambled out of bed when your stomach suddenly, and rather violently, lurched forward. You only barely made it to the bathroom. Your stomach emptied it's contents as you threw up everything you'd eaten in the last 24 hours. Your limbs ached, your body trembled with each convulsion and your brain throbbed against your skull. You only barely registered the feeling of a comforting hand on your back and someone clearing your hair from your face and holding it back out of the way.

On any other given day, you'd be mortified that someone had seen you in such a state. But at this point, you were around three flu symptoms too far gone to care.

When your stomach had nothing left to throw up, you flushed the toilet, accepting the tissue Sherlock offered to clean yourself up.

“Told you I was dying,” you moped. Your voice was hoarse and your eyes watered.

Not having the heart to argue with you, Sherlock simply nodded. “That you did, Darling.”

Gently pulling you up to stand, Sherlock wrapped an arm around you to keep you on your feet.

“Come on, back to bed.”

But it appeared that you'd lost the little strength you had left. Sherlock figured bridal style would be a lot quicker.

Carrying your still trembling form back to your room, Sherlock placed you carefully on the bed, and pulled the covers up to your shoulders, adding a second blanket in an attempt to warm you up.

He ran back to the kitchen and returned with a glass full of thick green liquid. You felt your stomach turn again.

“Ms Hudson said it will help. Drink it slowly over the next hour or so. It should bring down the fever and calm the stomach ache,” Sherlock clarified as he placed it on the bedside table.

You stifled your curiosity and withheld from asking what was in it. You figured that you probably didn't want to know.

“Anything else you need?” Sherlock's voice was gentle and his features drawn into a sympathetic expression.

You smiled weakly and raised your arms.

Sherlock's expression fell. “No.”

“Sherlock, please,” you whimpered, resembling a toddler. You held out your arms expectantly, doing your best to mirror the puppy dog look Sherlock had all but mastered. “Please.”

Sherlock seemed to have a brief battle with himself before surrendering to your pleas.

“Fine.” He did his very best to sound annoyed, unwilling, or at the very least irritated. But the fondness was clear in his tone.

He pulled back the duvet and slid in next to you, getting himself comfortable before opening his arm. You curled into his side, resting your head on his chest and sighing at the comfort he offered.

“You're warm.”

“You're delirious.”

You halfheartedly hit his chest for the comment, electing a fond chuckle. You dozed off in record time, your body rather desperate for some sleep.

Sherlock held you close, toying with your hair, tracing patterns along your skin and every now and then, placing a kiss to your temple. Logically, he knew being in such close proximity to someone with such a contagious illness for such a prolonged amount of time would almost undoubtedly result in him catching it himself. But he shrugged off the worry. Some people were just worth getting sick for.

~~~~~~

Forever tag list: @miraclesoflove @bakerstreethound @Kealohilani-tepise

Sherlock tag list: @fanfictionsilove @quentawewe @andreasworlsboring101 @starrykitn @doozywoozy @the-worst-critic @xxvisible @Jellyfishbeansontoast

#sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #Sherlock Holmes #Sherlock Holmes fanfiction #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfiction #Sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fluff

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amjustagirl · 4 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Notes: Multipart fic, slow burn. Updates to come soon (and dw, fic’s completed, so you won’t be left hanging ^^)

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘You sure you want the job?’ Miya Osamu asks her when she turns up at his shop, application in hand, responding to the advertisement in Onigiri Miya’s window for part time staff - general help needed, ability to ride a scooter a plus point - it had read.

There are only fifteen seats in Onigiri Miya, and hardly any space for her to fit her backpack between her knees, but sunlight streams in invitingly from the glass shop front and there is a faint smell of grilled rice and fried fish that reminds her of weekly lunches at her grandparents’ home.

‘Yes’, she answers, gesturing with her thumb at her scooter parked outside the shop. ‘I think I’m a good fit for this job’. The corner of Miya Osamu’s mouth lifts ever so slightly, and he leans forward in his seat, hand extended to her.

‘Welcome to Onigiri Miya then’, he says before proceeding to brisk walk her through the ins and outs of the shop, the scope of her responsibilities, work schedule and (most importantly) her wage, leaving her head spinning at the end of the impromptu briefing. Miya Osamu seems passionate about his craft, his face brightening up with enthusiasm when he talks her through the various onigiris he sells, the type of rice he buys (from a boutique rice farmer in Hyogo, apparently), and he’s generous enough to offer her a decent wage, more than what she could be making working in a combini.

She stands by her bike on the roadside, tilting her face to the setting sun. There is the faintest smell of rain in the air.

She soon falls into the rhythm of Onigiri Miya.

Osamu is strangely territorial over food preparation, so her tasks in the kitchen are mainly limited to washing rice (thrice in clean water, drained thoroughly) and doling out cups of tea and bowls of soup. When he finds out that she’s studying accountancy at Osaka University, he immediately places her in charge of the cash register (and later, in charge of their books). Her scooter comes in handy when he needs her to do urgent stock runs or deliveries to customers.

She learns the name of their regular customers - Abe-san, who only ever orders salmon onigiris with a side of pork bone soup. Kawasaki-san, who spends half her meal complaining about her aches and pains to a sympathetic Osamu. Mina-san, who turns up every day for breakfast after Osamu includes spam onigiri on his menu after he overhears that she misses her hometown of Okinawa.

Osamu calls her over at the end of her shift on a busy Saturday night. ‘I’ve a large order for an old customer of mine. D’you think you could help deliver it?’

There is a gleam in his eye that she does not quite like.

‘You sound like you’re sending me out to slaughter’ she comments half-jokingly, to which he responds with an amused shrug of his shoulder. She considers whether it’s bad form to throw her shoe at her boss’s head, but decides not to waste her time. So she shoulders the large sack of food, heading off on her scooter to a neat apartment building in a quiet neighbourhood.

Well – it would have been a quiet neighbourhood but for the music blasted from the top floor of her destination. She has to cover her ears the minute the elevator opens and wonders if their neighbours are deaf or dead because there is no way otherwise the apartment wouldn’t have copped a noise complaint. Grimacing at the tape over the doorbell, she knocks politely on the door.

There is no response.

She knocks once more, less politely this time, but still the door does not open. ‘Hello, your delivery is here!’ she calls firmly, slamming her fist down on the sturdy wooden door.

There is still no response.

She’s about to turn around when the door crashes open and a blonde head pops out. Her jaw falls open because standing before her is the spitting image of her boss that just sent her out with this order, albeit blonde and ever so slightly broader.

‘You’re not ‘Samu, but you’re pretty’, he leers, leaning against the doorway.

She’s tempted to deck him but she’s pretty sure that would mean losing her job. So reminding herself that all that’s standing between her and her bed is this delivery, she bites her tongue and extends the bag of food to him. ‘Your order, sir. Payment please.’

‘Didn’t ‘Samu mention that I don’t need to pay?’ The blonde Osamu replica tugs the bag of food towards him, frowning when she refuses to let go.

‘Not that I know of - and I can’t let you have your order unless you pay for it’, she answers firmly, foot against the door.

He straightens into his height in a thinly veiled attempt to intimidate her - and while he’s at least six foot of solid muscle from what she can see, it’s thanks to years of working in her father’s shop with men at least a full head taller and broader than her that she’s not afraid to tip her chin up at him with her widest, sharpest grin until he looks away to draw out a couple of thousand yen bills from his pocket, enough to cover the bill.

‘Fine, fine - tell ‘Samu he wins’, he grumbles, slamming the door in her face.

She waits until she’s back at her scooter and a good distance away from the apartment before she dials Osamu’s number.

‘What was that?’ she asks without preamble when he picks up.

‘What was what?’ Osamu answers, sounding uncharacteristically amused.

‘Don’t play cute with me! Did you just make me deliver food to your brother?’

‘My twin actually’, and he ignores her squawk of indignation. ’Did he pay up?’

‘What do you take me for - of course! I didn’t let go of the food until he did.’

‘Huh’, Osamu responds, sounding surprised. ‘That’s the first time he actually gave in’. And with that, he laughs merrily and hangs up on her.

She shrugs it off as one of her boss’s weird quirks.

Except it doesn’t stop as being a weird quirk but turns into an annoying habit.

Atsumu quickly becomes a regular customer (she learns during one of the twins’ many bickering sessions that he’s back in Osaka after several competitions), and Osamu latches on pretty fast that she’s far better than he is at forcing Atsumu to pay for the food he eats, so he sics her on Atsumu every time the blonde setter shows up at the shop for a meal.

‘Pay up’ she orders Atsumu for the fourth time this week. Her tone gives no berth for refusal so Atsumu reaches for his pockets even as he grumbles his complaints about ‘cowardly scrubs’ and ‘ crazy bitches’ at a grinning Osamu.

‘You should give me a raise for managing your brother’, she complains to Osamu later, and though he raises an eyebrow at her, to her surprise, he does exactly that.

Osamu proceeds to take advantage of said raise to send her to man their stand at MSBY’s first match of the season, armed with a few hundred onigiris. Business is brisk, but she finds her attention diverted by the sheer speed of the plays and the way the players all seem to have wings in their feet.

Atsumu in particular catches her eye. Osamu explained to her over a slow day at work about volleyball positions and basic plays, and he boasted about Atsumu’s talent as a setter, how ‘he always takes the best care of his spikers’. Watching him now, even to her untrained eye, she can see how much thought he puts into each of his plays - the way he tricks the blockers to let his spikers fly high above them, the quick side stepping of increasingly frustrated attackers, the dump shots at the most unexpected of times.

She’s impressed, though she doesn’t want to admit it - because Atsumu has the personality of a puddle of muddy rainwater, and she's fairly sure he'd never let her hear the end of it if he ever finds out.

So it isn’t surprising when she spots him being hassled by a large gaggle of his fan girls outside the sports hall. They’re hanging off his arms begging him for autographs - and probably something much less innocent from the way his eyes are bugging out of his head. It’s tempting to walk away from him – it’s not as if he’s been particularly nice to her after all, but a few of the more rabid fan girls seem to get a little too close for comfort and she figures even he doesn’t deserve that . Plus he probably can’t just shove them off because that might cause yet another PR debacle that she and Osamu have become accustomed seeing in the news, so she breathes a sigh through her nose, cursing her conscience.

‘Oi asshat, your ride’s here’, she shouts as loudly as she can, shouldering her way to the center of the crowd. His fan girls stare in stunned silence, but Atsumu catches on after she shoves her spare helmet into his chest, and grabbing her wrist for dear life, they sprint all the way to her scooter.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden before’, she snaps as he fiddles helplessly at his helmet.

‘Of course, I have, what d’you take me for, some scrub?’ he retorts when he manages to strap his it on to his head. Her scooter groans under his weight.

Yes - she itches to retort, because he’s clearly lying. He fights to keep upright as she loops her way through bends on the road and maintains a white knuckled grip on the back of his seat until she comes to a stop two streets away where his fan girls are unlikely to see him.

‘So, where to?’ she asks him as he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. ‘I could let you off here, or we could grab some food - your choice.’

‘Eh… Could we drop by 7-11?’ he chuckles sheepishly.

‘Really? You want me to take you to a combini when your brother literally owns a restaurant?’

‘I’m cravin’ an egg mayo sandwich, what’s wrong with that?!’ he yells as she revs off, and she laughs when he squeaks and clings on to her waist.

They end up at a combini anyway. Atsumu buys his egg mayo sandwich. And a bucket load of oden. And a bagful of karaage. And two pudding cups (singly packed, none of the triple cup kind for him thank you very much). At least he steers clear of the onigiri section, because Osamu might explode otherwise if he ever finds out.

‘You’re paying the fine if my bike gets impounded’ she tells him sourly.

‘Relax - it’ll be fine’, he waves his hand airily at her. ‘’Sides, what’s a girl like you doing with a bike?’

‘A girl like me?’ she echoes, tilting her head in confusion.

‘Y’know - kinda square and all? I assumed so, since ‘Samu mentioned you’re studying to be an accountant’, he clarifies through a mouthful of food.

‘Square?! ’ she mouths at him, outraged, and he grins unrepentantly back at her, crunching on karaage. She abandons her annoyance to scoot back to avoid the ensuing spray of crumbs.

‘Do you want me to answer seriously, or was that a rhetorical question, gross pig?’

‘Please, I’m always serious, darlin’, he drawls.

She steals a fishcake from him in retaliation and he tries to rap her knuckles with his sandwich. They only settle down when the combini staff glare at them mildly in reproof.

‘I’ve always wanted to ride a bike ‘cos it seemed like it allowed its rider to be free’, she says, shooting a fond look through the window at her own scooter, rusty and old it may be.

‘I mean it allows you to get from one place to another, what’s so special about that?’ he asks, cocking his head in confusion.

‘Mm…well, not just that. You see, when I was younger, I used to be so jealous of my older brothers getting to ride their motorbikes. They refused to let me borrow it, so I stole it one day when they weren’t looking and took off - but because I was so excited, I hit the thrusters so hard on the way up a hill that I ended up crashing on the way down. But right before I crashed, there was a moment when I was on the top of the world with the wind in my face - it was the first time I truly felt alive .’

She closes her eyes at the memory, her mouth lifting into a smile. ‘And that’s what I become addicted to - chasing that feeling of being completely unfettered from the world, like a bird in the sky.

He stares at her meditatively, as though she’s a puzzle he can’t quite solve.

‘What!’ she exclaims, the tips of her ears flushing pink, suddenly self-conscious.

‘Nothin’, darlin’. Just thought that you’re more interesting than I thought’. Ignoring her indignant ‘ what?!’ , he stands up, brushing the crumbs off his lap. ‘Shall we get goin’? It’s about to rain.’

The ride back to his apartment passes in a blur of streetlights and gathering rain clouds, but thankfully it’s not as unpleasant as it was before as Atsumu eases into his seat, moving with her when she drops into a bend, loosening his hands on her waist. Still, she suspects it’s all bravado, as he stumbles stiff legged off the bike when they reach his apartment.

But as to be expected from a seasoned athlete used to the spotlight, he manages to plaster on a grin, cocky and charming enough to make her blush.

‘Thanks for the ride’, he says. ‘I wouldn’t mind coming out again with you for a ride sometime’.

Then he smiles at her, and it’s soft, shorn of the sharp edges she’s used to seeing. It plants an unfamiliar seed of warmth in her core that survives her race home against the storm.

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alice-angel12x · 3 years

Text

💔Bunny!Shouto x Bunny!Reader

Beastar/hybrid/ Fantasy AU

[In this story everyone is a hybrid with animal instincts, and major height difference depending on the animals like in beastars. And magic exists. And sorry if Shouto seems out of character for you.]

"Shouto where are you?!" Y/n called for her friend.

Sadly Shouto's mind was elsewhere, for he had fallen in love with the wolf princess Momo. Every day he would sit at the edge of cottonwood village and gaze upon The princess from afar.

"Shouto, there you are," Y/n said with a smile.

But that quickly turned into a sad frown as she saw Shouto eyeing the crescent castle. Kingdom of the wolves. Know most would wonder, why is there a rabbit village a hop skip, and a jump away from a wolf kingdom. Well, every time the village tries to move away rogue wolves would attack. Yet once they got close to the castle they would quickly run away. The king of the wolves claimed that as long as they stayed within the boundaries of the kingdom, they would protect them. Y/n never bought that. She noticed that once every year one rabbit from the village would disappear. Many believed it was from the rogue wolves, sneaking in and past the guards. So Y/n was worried about her friend falling in love with a wolf, a rabbit falling in love with a wolf.

"Oh Hi, Y/n," was all he said not even turning to look at her.

"How are you feeling, you know since spring is coming up?" Y/n asked him slowly.

"I'm fine," was all he said. "How about you,"

"I'm good still looking for my prince charming you know," Y/n said wistfully.

"You so childish," Shouto said as he finally turned to her.

"I'm 16 what's so childish about that?" Y/n asked as she turned to head back to the village.

Cottonwood Village is a quaint little town of Rabbits. In the middle of the village was a large cottage where the leader/mayor lived with his family, Shouto's family. The leader was endeavor Shouto's father, he was a part of the group of rabbits that believed the wolves were hiding something.

"Does your father know about your umm, dream girl?" Y/n asked.

"My father already has enough control of my life, I'm not about to let him control my love life," Shouto said coldly.

"You shouldn't get too close to the castle, it's dangerous," Y/n said in a worried tone.

"I know your thoughts on Wolves Y/n. But the wolves have shown use that they have other alternative foods. Like soy and bean-made meat," Shouto explained.

"It's easy to say that when it's not someone you care about goes missing," Y/n muttered bitterly, but Shouto sadly heard her.

"Y/n, it was the rogues that got your brother. And the Kingdom felt with them remember," Shouto sighed in annoyance.

"Shouto are you sure you love this wolf girl or is this just one of your I just wanna piss off my dad things?" Y/n asked bitterly.

"If You don't like it then you could always find someone else to hang out with, Y/n!" Shouto said as his left side lit up in flames.

Y/n quickly ran off, startled by Shouto's flame magic. Shouto sighed in frustration as he realized he used his father's Flames. After that Shouto avoided Y/n like the plague, and it didn't help that his father eventually found out Shouto was in love with a wolf. Endeavor did not like that, so he started setting updates for Shouto to try to take his mind off Momo.

Y/n tried to apologize and rekindle with him, but he would only give her the cold shoulder.

Y/n could see the sorrow and anger Shouto was in, so she barrier her feelings for him and braved the dark forest. She heard rumors that a powerful owl named All For One could perform miracles, even change species. She eventually found him a creepy old owl.

"E-excuse me, sir," Y/n stuttered as the owl turned his head 180° to look at her.

"I wanted to know if you had the power to change a person's species?"

"Yes indeed child, and what species would you like to be, but it will cost you," All for One chuckled.

"How much would it cost?" She asked.

"Half of your soul. Your life Will be cut in half. You'll live to about 25 for you," he answered as he towered over Y/n.

"I would like to pay for someone. If a red and white male rabbit comes and asks to change him, please take my soul," Y/n said in confidence.

"You young people always ready to throw your life away," he muttered as ripped out half of Y/n's soul.

And with that, she quickly ran back to the village, with Half of her soul in toe. She managed to track down Shouto and told him about All for One but left out the part of selling half of her soul.

Shouto did not waste time to find the owl and demand him to turn him into a wolf.

____________ [4 years later]

It has been 4 years since I changed into a wolf. When I changed, I found myself waking up in a large bed. I was found by Princess Momo herself. She helped was so sweet and kind, and was more than happy to explain wolf society. When I told her I was raised by Herbavoir animals. I was an Omega, while She was an Alpha.

Yet I enjoyed the times we spent together, I had never felt so free. She would help my heats or anything that confused me. It took a while to get used to eating soy meat, but I didn't mind all that much. All for One said he could change me and give me Wolf-like instincts, but he couldn't remove my Rabbit instincts. So it took a long time to suppress those instincts.

°° Today Momo had important meetings, so I was left to my own devices. So I decided to take a stroll through the forest. As I wandered through the forest I could hear humming coming from a nearby river. I peaked out from behind the tree, too see a rabbit bathing in the river. I recognized that rabbit, with her lovely H/c hair and beautiful snow-white rabbit ears and Tail.

"Y/n?" I called out to her.

Y/n quickly turned around to face me as she covered her chest with her arms. As my eyes took in all of her details I could feel the rest of the world fading away. It was just me and Y/n. In my new wolf body, Y/n looked so small compared to me now.

She matured a lot over these past 4 years. For some reason I couldn't see her as the childish dreamer 4 years ago, I couldn't figure out why.

"Umm hello Shouto, your taller," Y/n said as she started backing away.

"I-it's good to see you again Y/n," stuttered as I felt the heat rush to my face.

She smiled sweetly at me as she grabbed her robes as he made her way over to you. Seeing her standing In front of me was odd. I remember when I was still a rabbit I was just a few inches taller than her. But now she just barely reached my mid waist.

We sat under a tree and talked for hours about what had happened to me. And she sat there and listened very closely. Her robes v neck was very revealing and I started to feel hot.

She seemed to notice as she got and started to walk with a slight sway in her hips. A dormant instinct awakens within me as the rabbit inside me begged to go after her.

"It seems you're a bit too excited to see me. If I remember correctly I was too childish for you~," She said with a smooth seductive voice.

I had to hold back the Rabbit instincts as I watched cross to the other side of the river.

"I'm afraid I have to leave now, spring is just around the corner after all~," She cooed as she disappeared behind the trees.

I felt hot in a certain place as I felt my tail wag uncontrollably on the ground. That wasn't the last time I went out to see Y/n. Anytime Momo was busy I would meet Y/n by the river and we would talk.

One day it was a particularly hot day as I made my way to Y/n's meet site. Today she was wearing a large floppy sun hat and a cute spring dress.

"So what us Momo like?" Y/n asked curiously.

"She's wonderful, she's kind, smart, and gentle," I said to her as I started to talk about my fiance.

"Hey Shouto are you okay, you seem sluggish today and in pain?" Y/n asked worriedly.

"Oh don't worry, I'm going into heat soon. So I'll be sore for a while, the downsides to being an Omega wolf," I explained.

"That sucks, is there any way I can help you?" Y/n asked as she hugged my neck. She smelled like a field of wildflowers, I couldn't help but return her hug. ---

As The two old friends were talking they failed to notice two figures creeping behind them. Before Y/n could react, a large hand grabbed her by the ears and lifted her off the ground. She screamed and thrashed against her captors. Shouto quickly got up and tackled the man as he pulled Y/n into his arms and ran.

"It's the rogues, we need to head back to the castle," Shouto struggled to say as he ran.

But as he ran his body began to ache and became heavy. His vision started to blur and his steps became uncertain. Shouto tripped and tumbled down the hill with Y/n in toe. As he collapsed on the ground his eyes slowly closed as his body gave out.

"SHOUTO, PLEASE WAKE UP!!'' was the last thing he heard.

------

As my eyes opened up, I found myself in my room or my nest. suddenly Momo came in with her usual sweet smile.

" Good your fully awake, it's good to see you took well to the stew," she smiled as she picked up the empty bowl next to me.

"W-what happened to me," Shouto asked as he tried to sit up.

" You're in your heat, but it is taking a larger toll on you because your body lacks certain nutrients that soy meat can't provide. So our hunters found a rabbit near you and gave her to our chiefs and made you rabbit stew," Momo explained.

Shouto felt his whole world shatter as his stomach noted and squeezed.

"Oh, my maid is coming with more stew. Today's rabbit such a delicious flavor," Momo said as she rubbed her finger in the empty bowl and licked off the stew on her finger.

Shouto began to tremble as the truth sank into him. His stomach lurched in disgust as he sat up and leaned onto a nearby wall. Soon a maid came in with a fresh bowl of ... Rabbit... Soup. Shouto tried to back away only for his back to meet another wall. The maid scooped a spoon full of Stew with a generous amount of cooked meat chunks.

"Open your mouth," the maid said using her Alpha order.

Shouto's omega body slowly opened its mouth, despite Shouto's wishes. As the maid feeds him a spoonful of rabbit stew. The maid ordered him to chew and swallow, and he did. Heavy tears ran down Shouto's face as his body betrayed him. It felt like an eternity to finish the entire bowl of Stew.

____

Soon as the maid left Shouto pushed himself onto his feet and made his way down to the kitchen.

'It couldn't be Y/n right? She must have run away to safety,' he thought to himself.

As he entered he saw the chief with a cloth sack ready to be thrown out. Shouto quickly offered to take it out for them as a thank you for the meal. And the chief happily gave the sac to Shouto.

Once he was out he ran deep into the forest and opened the bag to see a fresh skeleton of a small rabbit. But inside he pulled out a familiar sun hat and spring dress. His stomach lurched and forced up the stew into a nearby bush.

"I... I ate her!! I ate Y/n', His mind screamed in shame, disgust, and sorrow as he began to sob.

Flashes of Y/n's beautiful smile and lively eyes appeared in his mind.

He held up Y/n's dress, it looked so small. The perfect size for a Pup maybe, but he knew this dress was the size for a fully grown rabbit, a young woman. He held the dress close to his chest like he was Hugging Y/n again.

Shouto with his head low he snuck back to his nest. Laying down he slowly pushed away most of the fabric Momo scented as he held Y/n's dress close to him. He could still smell the field of wildflowers on her dress.

"I can still smell you Y/n," He whimpered to himself.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #fantasy au #a/b/o #crossover #hybrid #todoroki x reader #Angst #slight horror #Maybe not really

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mistress-and-servant · 3 years

Text

Just a Tear

“Go change,” she said to him, sternly.

She was sitting at her vanity, powdering her face when he walked in. She didn’t even turn around to say that, merely glanced at him through the mirror. Charlie was momentarily shocked, but then nodded to her and quickly made his way back to his room to put on his maid outfit. This was a common occurrence for him. Sometimes she’d demand to see him in his maid outfit, while other times she didn’t mind the butler one. But he would gladly change for her whenever she asked.

The maid outfit was slightly more revealing. The skirt portion didn’t even go past his mid thigh, and there was a cat head hole right where his chest was. It showed off a bit of his cleavage squishing out against it. The sleeves were tight right below his shoulders. It was a bit more difficult to move around in this outfit, but he’d never complain to his Mistress. He quickly made his way back to her door and knocked.

“Enter.”

He opened the door and shut it behind him as he walked in. He stood behind her, just like earlier. This time when she glanced up, she smiled and slowly turned around in her seat. There was a spark in her green eyes.

“That’s better. Now, Charlie, do me a favor and do not take that outfit off till you burst out of it.”

Charlie paused, and blinked a few times to catch up with what he heard. His maid outfit had started to show how much he’s grown, but even with how ill fitting it had become he wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to completely outgrow it.

“Do you expect me to even wear it while I sleep, Mistress?”

“Oh heavens of course not-“

He sighed in relief.

“- I expect you to do it today kitten.”

His eyes widen and a blush began to form on his chubby cheeks. She giggled.

“Oh stop. I know you can do it. I would suggest you sit around and just stuff your face till it happens, but I know how much you don’t like ignoring your duties.”

He nodded, he hated the idea of not doing anything at all. He was her butler after all. And if he did nothing at all, then how was he ever to keep his worth?

She continued, “ Yes, so since you need to be doing something, I suggest that as long as you are working, you are also eating.”

She got up from her seat and walked up to him. She placed her small hand on his tum and patted it. It gurgled, reminding him that he had yet to eat today. “I want to see you eating something all day, no matter what. I’ll make sure of that.”

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Breakfast was the easiest. She didn’t add anything to his simple meal of eggs, bacon, toast and a cup of whole milk. He was sure that she would add a pastry of some kind, but she just sat there with her own portion and smiled. After taking and cleaning their dishes, he got started on making a list of things that needed to be bought for the home. He would receive lists from the head chef and head housekeeper, and he would then in turn check the stock room and pantry to make sure everything was listed off.

It was in the stock room that he heard someone come into the room. He looked and saw his Mistress come in with a plate of cookies. When she got to him, she immediately shoved a cookie into his mouth. He had no choice but to eat it, and it was delicious. It was still warm, and it was crunchy on the outside but soft on the inside. The chocolate chips were gooey, coating his mouth as he chewed. As he finished it, a second one was pushed into his mouth. This went on as he continued to check the stock. Cookie after cookie would pass through his lips with no room in between them until finally there was none left. She smiled at him and finally left him alone again. It wasn’t till then that he noticed a slight bit more pressure in his tummy. He rubbed his belly and burped into his fist before continuing on with his work.

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This continued on throughout the morning. Treat after treat would make his way to him, and his Mistress would happily feed him as he worked. She fed him slices of cake, batches of brownies, plates of cookies, and other such desserts until it was finally time for lunch. He had just finished a plate of scones and was now slowly making his way to the kitchen. He was full, his belly now pushing against his maid outfit. He could have sworn that the fabric was slowly inching its way higher up his legs, showing more and more skin as it went. The end of his skirt was barely covering the top of his thighs, and soon would start showing the very bottom of his belly. Yet there wasn’t a tear yet, he was afraid that he wouldn’t burst out of the outfit and it would simply no longer cover his body.

He held his belly as he walked, trying to stop it from sloshing around and causing more discomfort. He hiccuped and burped softly as he got closer. But before he could enter, his Mistress came out and blocked him.

“Oh no no no. You are to sit at the dining room table. I will bring you your meal.”

He was about to protest, but she began to push him away. “Go on now. I know how hungry you must be,” she teased. He relented and made his way to the table. As he was slowly lowering himself onto the seat, he felt something give, and his belly expanded a little with the extra room. Upon inspection, he found that the bow to his apron had come undone, and now the flaps were loosely on his sides. It didn’t count, but it gave him hope that maybe he’d be able to stop soon.

He inspected his clothing further and found that, when sitting, his skirt barely covered his legs at all. The ends of the fabric were just shy of exposing his belly. He patted his tum, causing it to gurgle. He was so full already, but he knew his Mistress would not stop till he burst out of his clothes. He hiccuped, causing his belly to wobble, and he groaned. He hoped he'd be able to get up after lunch.

Half an hour passed before his Mistress entered the room. With the little time he was given as a break, he was starting to breath a little bit easier. His tummy was still full, of course, but he was finally relaxing, until he wasn’t. The Mistress brought in two plates with her. One with a bowl of creamy potato soup with bits of bacon in it, the other with a sub cut in half with cheese and tomato sauce oozing from the sides, a classic chicken parm sandwich. They both smelled amazing. Even with his full tummy he began to drool at the thought of eating them both. He rubbed at his belly, momentarily forgetting his fullness.

His Mistress sat the two meals down and motioned for him to eat, which he did with no hesitation. He began with the bowl of soup. It was warm and creamy. The bacon was salty, and as he lifted up his spoon he saw that there were globs of cheese and chunks of onion and carrots mixed in. He savored the flavors, and before he knew it the bowl was empty. He stifled a burp in his hand and began to rub his tummy. Not only did he feel how stretched his belly was, but also the fabric of his dress. He didn’t understand how it could still contain him after everything. He swore that he could hear creaking, he just wanted it to tear already. His belly gurgled and a burp slipped past his lips. He blushed as his Mistress pushed the next plate in front of him. Charlie picked up the sandwich and began to eat again.

Slowly he made his way through it. Bite after bite of cheesy, saucy chicken and bread slid down his throat and expanded his tight gut. He groaned as he felt his stomach grumble even more. He tried to push his belly out in hopes that the dress would finally give but it just held on. Even after the last bite joined the rest in his packed gut, not a single thread had given out. He let his head fall back and didn’t try to hide the burp he let out. He was just so tired from the heavy weight in his belly sitting on his lap, still covered by his maid outfit. He barely registered the hand slowly rubbing circles into his belly. His Mistress pushed a finger against his stomach and felt how tight he felt.

“I really thought for sure you’d rip through this by now.” She placed both hands on either side of his wide expanse and gave him a gentle squeeze that still made him groan at the discomfort. She stopped and continued with her rubbing circles. After a few minutes of caressing his stuffed midsection she got up and stood beside him, grabbing his right arm.

“Come, it probably isn’t too comfortable sitting like this. Let's get you to a more comfortable spot.”

He moaned at the thought of moving, but after a moment's hesitation he began to slide himself closer to the seat edge. He used one hand to grip the dining table, and the other to support his tum to prevent any unnecessary movements. Slowly but surely he got onto his two feet with the help of his Mistress, his belly wobbling as it was pulled down by gravity. The weight making him have to arch his back to give his belly more room. He hiccuped and groaned and clutched at his middle, his Mistress leading him towards her personal Reading Room. She led him towards the plush coach they’d both use to sit next to each other during lazy days. She made sure that he slowly and carefully sat on the cushions and then pushed him into a lying position. With laying on his side his belly was no longer pulling at his back, now being supported by the soft pillows. He was both more comfortable and still in pain by the sheer volume in his tummy. His Mistress sat down next to his head which then made him want to pull himself closer to her to put his head on her lap. He struggled a little before she granted mercy on him since all this began and shimmied closer for him to snuggle into her. She began to run her fingers through his hair. With now being close to his Mistress, he began to purr softly and gently fell into a food coma, his tummy slowly digesting all the things he’d eaten .

The last thing he heard before slipping into darkness was, “Maybe when you wake up we can continue working on tearing this outfit.”

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justnerdthings · 3 years

Text

New Beginnings Ch.2

Female Reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao (Not sure which yet)

Note: Chapter 2. Friend said last one was good. So have another. >w<

Raiden had introduced himself properly and explained Mortal Kombat to you. You were at a complete loss. You hadn’t believed any of it at first, but Raiden had made it clear that this was not a dream or trick. The man shot lightning out of his hand! You were convinced. This was real. It had to be. You weren’t creative enough to dream this up. He was a god.

You were still in shock as Liu led you through the hallways again, this time avoiding any views of the outside. You were lost in your own mind until he stopped at a door. Again, a very simple door.

“This is your room,” He told you, eyes searching you again as he opened the door and gestured for you to take a look.

The room was small and very modest. A simple bed was pushed against a wall. A small wooden table and chair was pushed against the other side. Another doorway led to a small bathroom that, thankfully, had a modern-enough sink and toilet. It would do for one night at least.

“Will you stay and fight Shang Tsung?” Liu asked gently, feeling you out. Raiden had admitted that you didn’t need to help them. Raiden would not force you. But Raiden did say it was your duty. The dragon mark on your left shoulder blade was proof.

Funny. People always did say your birthmark looked like a dragon.

But would you stay? You weren’t sure. This was so much to take in. Why you? You had no experience fighting. You once punched a bully in grade school, but that was it!

You sighed and combed your fingers through your hair. “I don’t know,” You answered. Obviously it wasn’t the answer Liu had hoped for. “I just… This is crazy.”

He nodded. “I understand,” He said, sincerity in his voice. “It’s your decision.”

You turned and looked at him standing in the doorway. “You do understand, don’t you?”

He lifted a brow curiously. “Yes. I felt similar when I was told of Mortal Kombat as well.”

“When was that?”

He thought for a moment. “A little over ten years now.”

“Ten years? You’ve been training here for ten years?”

“Here? Yes. But I grew up in a shaolin monastery. I’ve been training most of my life.”

So he was a monk. Now his behavior made sense. “Did you get taken here out of the blue too?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I defeated a child trafficker and gained his mark. I unlocked my arcana soon after. Lord Raiden found me then. I’ve been here ever since.”

“You never left? At all? Not even to visit family?”

“Oh, yes. I am free to come and go as I please. I often leave to run errands for Lord Raiden.”

“Errands?”

“Yes.”

“Like eggs and milk errands?”

He laughed and shook his head. “To find people and information mostly.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure what to say to that.

“Does this help you decide if you will stay?”

“I think I just need some time to digest this,” You admitted.

He nodded again. “Speaking of digesting,” He spoke, “Would you like some dinner?”

Oh, god, yes, you thought. You still had no idea when the last time you ate was. A day? Two? Raiden said you were passed out for quite some time. “Yes.” You nodded. “Please.”

Liu smiled again. You liked his smile. It was genuine. Kind. Sincere. He stepped back out of the doorway, allowing you to step out of the room.

You were led into a large room filled with fur rugs and handmade cushions. A low table was placed in the center and another man was already seated and eating. He looked up as Liu led you over.

“Brother, this is Y/N,” Liu introduced you. “She has the mark,” Liu told him as he sat across from him at the table.

“Hello.” You hesitated. This guy had a different energy about him. Or maybe it was just your anxiety. He, you, and Liu were all about the same age. And he, like Liu, was attractive. He probably had a nice ass too.

You weren’t sure if you imagined it or not, but Raiden’s laugh echoed in your mind. Averting your eyes, you lowered yourself next to Liu.

“You don’t look like a fighter,” the man said with a mouth full. His eyes were looking you up and down critically.

“Don’t be rude,” Liu chided as he watched.

The man glanced to Liu as he swallowed his food, then looked back to you. “My name is Kung Lao,” He introduced. “Descendant of the Great Kung Lao.” He was proud of himself.

“Oh…” Was he a prince or something?

“You have no idea who that is, do you?” Kung Lao accused, pointing his chopsticks at you.

A small shrug tugged up your shoulders as you shook your head slowly.

Lao grinned and shook his own head as he looked to Liu. He stopped once he noticed his brother’s disapproval. “So what do you do, Y/N?” he asked as he looked back to you. The way he said your name didn’t bring you much comfort in his presence.

As you stared at him, trying to think of how to answer him, he’d bitten into an egg roll while keeping eye contact with you. “Um… Not really anything, I guess,” you said, nerves starting to get the best of you. This guy was more intimidating than Raiden was.

“Nothing?” Lao asked. “You must do something. You’re breathing right now. That’s something.”

“Lao…” Liu warned and passed you a bowl of rice.

You took the bowl with a small, awkward smile to Liu and began to make your plate. Maybe if you just didn’t look at Kung Lao, you wouldn’t feel so judged. “Well, I’ve been a nurse for the past seven years… But it’s hardly anything to talk about. I just work at a small office. Nothing ever really happens there.”

“That’s an honorable career,” Liu said as he began to eat.

“If nothing happens there, why do you stay? Seems boring,” Lao commented.

“I kinda like boring,” You admitted. “I uh… I used to have real bad anxiety as a kid. Boring is comfortable. Routine.”

“Anxiety?” Lao asked.

“Yeah. It uh… It got so bad that eventually I was scared to leave the house.”

“That’s awful,” Liu said with a frown.

You nodded. It was always hard to talk about your anxiety. But Liu seemed mindful enough to not tease you or make you feel like an idiot. “Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore and went to see a doctor. They put me on medication for it. I was a new person after I got used to the meds. Felt like I could breathe again.”

“What made you so anxious that you would be afraid of leaving your house?” Lao asked, harsher in his words. What did you have to worry about compared to him.

“I don’t really know,” you admitted. “I was always teased as a kid. I was the weird kid. Didn’t have a lot of friends.”

“Childhood trauma?” Liu asked.

“Maybe?” You shrugged, not sure. You never really tried to get to the bottom of it.

“Is that where your fear of heights comes from?” Liu asked.

That one you did know. You gave a small laugh as you straightened up a bit. “No. That was me falling out of a tree as a kid.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Liu asked.

You shook your head. “No. Just some scrapes and bumps. It just kinda stuck with me after that though. Never climbed another tree.”

“Well, at least you weren’t harmed,” Liu said as he ate.

“If you didn’t get hurt, then why were you so scared to climb another tree?” Lao asked.

“I don’t know. Guess it’s one of those weird things that happens when you’re a kid,” You told him.

“You have bigger things to worry about now, than falling from trees,” Lao pressed.

You stared at your plate of food. Lao was right. Scared of climbing trees sure did sound stupid now that you knew about Mortal Kombat. Weird, the idea of Mortal Kombat didn’t freak you out as much as climbing a tree. “Anxiety doesn’t ever really make sense,” You told Lao. “I used to be perfectly fine one minute, then crying and convinced I was about to die the next.”

“Were you being attacked?” Lao asked.

“Not by a person,” You answered.

“Animal?” Liu chimed in, curious.

You shook your head. “Anxiety.”

Lao just stared at you. It didn’t make any sense to him.

Liu was more curious than confused. “So your own mind was attacking you,” he concluded after a moment of thought.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You moved some food around your plate idly. “I know. It makes me sound crazy. But it hasn’t happened in years.”

“Because of the medicine the doctor gave you,” Liu concluded again.

“Right,” you answered.

“So, let me get this straight,” Lao began. “A nervous wreck of a person, who is scared of climbing trees, and has no formal training to fight, has the dragon mark?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda lost on that too,” you admitted.

Lao looked to Liu in disbelief. “Is Lord Raiden out of his mind?”

“I’m sure he knows something we don’t,” Lui told him.

“Mortal Kombat is only a few years away. She won’t be ready!” Lao exclaimed in annoyance.

“We’ll just have to do our best,” Liu answered and lifted some rice to his mouth.

“She’ll have to train every hour, every day, to be even remotely decent,” Lao said.

“Lord Raiden knows what’s best,” Liu said.

“Lord Raiden’s out of his damn mind!” Lao shouted.

You’d gotten used to people talking about you as if you weren’t there when you were a kid. But it hadn’t happened much since then. You set your chopsticks down. “Look, I don’t know if I ever could be ready for Mortal Kombat. I don’t know if I’ll even try. But do you really think it’s a good idea to talk that way about guy who literally shoots lightning out of his hands? And another thing, I am not a nervous wreck of a person!” You looked right at Kung Lao, clearly unamused.

Lao just looked at you, at a loss for words, for what seemed like forever. It was really only a few seconds before he looked to Liu and grinned.

Liu was already grinning, looking at his food.

With a huff, you pushed away from the table. “Sorry, Liu. I think I lost my appetite,” you said, annoyed… Doubting yourself… Still hungry, but you’d had enough of Lao.

Liu looked over with concern as you stood. He set his bowl down and stood with you. He was going to try and convince you to stay, but decided against it. “Would you like me to walk you back to your room?” He asked kindly.

You’d get lost if you didn’t have help. You nodded and turned for the door.

Lao was still grinning as he continued his meal.

Liu quickly joined you in the hallway. “Y/N,” He spoke carefully. “I apologize for Lao’s behavior. He’s not usually like that.”

You sucked in a stiff breath. You shook your head. “No. It’s okay. He’s right. I have no business being here.”

“Don’t let him scare you away. Lord Raiden believes you’re worthy. That’s enough for me. Lao will come around,” Liu said as he began to lead you down the hall.

Maybe. Maybe Raiden did know something you didn’t yet. “The monk I met when I woke up… Feng, I think. He said something about my arcana saving me.”

Liu looked at you, then nodded. “I heard about that. I don’t know the details though…”

“I don’t even remember doing anything,” You said.

After leaving you at your room, Liu returned to Lao. He sat back at the table. Looking to a still grinning Lao. He returned it.

“She has a fire in her,” Lao said.

“She does.” Liu agreed.

“I heard she passed your test,” Lao inquired.

Liu, glancing to him, sipped from his tea, then nodded. “Five times.”

Lao was surprised to hear that. He figured you’d only make it once if at all.

“It took some coaching the first couple times, but by the fourth one she was doing it on her own,” Liu explained.

“Impressive. If her anxiety is as bad as she said, she manages it well,” Lao said.

Liu nodded again. “How much of it was the medicine, I wonder.”

Lao had almost forgot. “Ah. That may be an issue.”

“Withdrawal from it may prove difficult.”

“Meditation training is first on your list,” Lao suspected. He knew how Liu thought.

Liu nodded. “How about yours. Did she pass your test?”

“I would have liked to see more, but it's a start,” Lao answered with a nod.

“You may get your wish if you keep up that act of yours,” Liu said.

“Oh, I intend to.” Lao smirked.

"Don't scare her away," Liu warned.

"She'll stay," Lao said with his mouth full. "She faced her fear five times. She's determined. And a nurse?" He nodded as he took another bite. "She commits herself to helping."

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings

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