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rheawritessometimes · 3 years

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A Not-So-Bad Deal

{ Childe x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Babysitting Childe has its ups and downs. Series Masterlist

{ Warnings } Swearing, Injury, Physical Intimacy, Mild Spice, PDA, Not Beta Read, Barely Proof Read.

{ Notes } Reader is implied to have commitment issues. Accidental flirting, because intentional flirting is awkward and hard. Didn't explicitly state what each breakfast item was, but they're based on popular Russian breakfast foods. Ahah, not me setting myself up for yet another part?? Masterlist

{ Word Count } 2,955

The sentiment of spending Childe's recovery with him being a simple endeavor was quickly thrown into the garbage when you were awakened before the sun had even begun to peek over the horizon to the sound of what you were sure was a break-in. Rolling out of the bed with your sword materializing in your hand was done entirely on instinct, you were still too groggy to have any proper thought. Stealthily exiting the room, you made your way to the source of the noise, the kitchen.

Needless to say, you were more than annoyed to find that the 'break in' was actually a familiar Harbinger making breakfast, tearing apart the kitchen in the process. Your sword dematerialized as you brought a hand up to massage your temples to ward off a headache. Childe was humming cheerily in the middle of the mess of ingredients and cookware, some of which you were certain had not been necessary to whatever it was he was making. There was no way that many bowls were necessary for any recipe.

The Snezhnayan flashed a bright grin when he saw you, but the gesture did nothing to ease the scowl that had settled onto your features. That didn't seem to dampen his mood in the least, he merrily continued preparing what appeared to be enough food to feed a lot more people than were currently occupying his apartment. Was he expecting a lot of company this morning?

"I thought we made a deal that involved you resting and not cooking enough to feed a small army at ass in the morning," you remarked, the sarcasm laid on thick enough to be dripping from each word. Much to your frustration, this only made him laugh as he turned the stove on.

"Well, I usually wake up early but this morning I had nothing to do since someone broke my bones. So, I decided to make a nice breakfast for my guest to enjoy with me," he responded with faux innocence, though there was laughter in his voice that easily gave him away. His words were still effective in making you feel a little guilty, so you wordlessly brought the dishes you were fairly certain he was done with to the sink and began washing them.

The two of you fell into a comfortable quiet after that, you were busy cleaning a mountain of dishes and Childe's focus was on frying a few eggs and cutting up a bowl of strawberries. You were mindful to stay out of the way as Childe cooked and he made an effort to set the cookware he was finished with beside the sink for you. The rhythm you two had quickly settled into felt startlingly domestic, something you reminded yourself not to like, and certainly not to get used to.

"Maybe I did make a little too much," the Harbinger muses somewhat sheepishly as he looks at the table he had just finished setting. It was without a doubt too much food for only two people, the table at risk of collapsing under the weight of it all. You could only nod in agreement.

"Your guard might appreciate a plate," you offered, as though one more person would make much of a difference against the mountain of food. You had to admit, everything did look delicious. The table was laid out with fried eggs, some porridge, a few sandwiches with sausage on them, what appeared to you to be some kind of crêpes, pancakes of some sort, the bowl of cut strawberries, and a kettle of tea. It would be no trouble finding people willing to eat the excess food.

"I suppose my subordinates deserve a nice breakfast," the redhead sighs dramatically, "They're lucky they have such a nice boss."

"Mhm, and if you ever fall out with the Fatui you could certainly find a job as a cook," you reply after sampling a forkful of his work. Living in Liyue had you more accustomed to chopsticks, but it was evident after going through Childe's kitchen that he did not own a pair. As a witness to his attempts at using them, you weren't very surprised by this finding. A fork was easy enough to figure out, anyway.

"I'm glad you like it," the redhead responds with a grin, quickly busying himself with his own plate. As he eats, he begins to talk about having similar breakfasts with his family in Snezhnaya. This turns into him recounting learning how to make these dishes with his mother and you quietly listen along, making the occasional comment and smiling fondly at his memories and the way he became more animated as he spoke about his family.

The sun had emerged by the time each of you had eaten what you could, and you cleared the plates while Childe ordered his guard to distribute the remaining food to his subordinates stationed in Liyue. You were halfway through cleaning the dishes when the Snezhnayan waltzed into the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He contented himself with watching, not bothering to even offer his assistance.

"I was thinking we should do something. I've been cooped up for too long. Maybe a casual hike up Mt. Aozang?" he suggested, causing you to pause in your ministrations and glance back at him with a raised brow. No hike up Mt. Aozang would be a casual one considering the terrain and potential enemies of the area.

"It's been less than a full day," you pointed out, "And, hm, what was it? Oh yeah, and you have a few broken ribs."

"What are a few broken ribs to a Fatui Harbinger?"

"It's a no, Childe," you firmly insisted, causing him to groan and mumble about you being a 'spoil sport'. It was easy enough to ignore him as you finished up with your small chore.

"I'm using your shower," you informed him once you turned away from the sink. He only hummed in response, still pouting against the counter. It was all you could do to not roll your eyes at his childish behavior.

"What am I even supposed to do for six weeks if I can't go out and fight things?" he whined, and this time you did roll your eyes.

"Well, maybe you can still improve your fighting," you mused, "Have you ever tried working on your strategy? Because that could definitely use some improvement."

The Harbinger huffed indignantly at your words, taking the mature route and sticking his tongue out at you as you left the kitchen to take a shower. He could pout to himself in the kitchen while you had a relaxing shower.

The apartment's bathroom was on the smaller side, but it was still easily workable and didn't feel at all cramped. You had brought with you your own toiletries, but that didn't stop you from poking around Childe's well-organized things out of curiosity. There wasn't anything of particular interest so you decided to just get cleaned up and figure out what to do for the day.

Leaving the bathroom wrapped in a towel and feeling refreshed, you made your way to the guest room to pull out something to wear for the day. You decided on something comfortable, it didn't seem like you'd be going out today anyways and if you did you could always change into something more suitable. After getting dressed and taking care of a few more things, you left the guest room in search of Childe.

It was a simple task finding the Harbinger, he was seated at the table flipping through the pages of a book. You were more than surprised to see it was a book on battle strategy, although you noted it was one focused on group tactics to be used in war organization. You supposed it shouldn't have been any great shock to find he had such books, considering his position as a Fatui Harbinger who was known for his knack for combat. But to actually find him taking your advice was not something you had expected.

"Finally done with your shower?" Childe asked, looking up from his reading, "Good, you were stinky."

His tone made it clear he was joking, and you gasped in mock offense. You both laughed at this, his cerulean eyes shining with amusement. You weren't sure you'd ever seen eyes more beautiful than his.

"Anyways, I was thinking we should go for a walk around the harbor and have a late lunch a Wanmin. Then we can just wander looking for stuff to do, or we could go out to that one boat. Or maybe Zhongli will be at the market and invite us for tea," Childe suggested, setting the book down on the table. You raised your brows at his 'plan'.

"It's been a long time since I've had any time off and I don't know what to do," he justified, crossing his arms over his chest. You only shook your head, smiling softly at his pout.

"Alright, I wouldn't mind a walk around the harbor, at least. Lunch at Wanmin sounds good too. We'll see what happens afterward," you conceded, watching his expression immediately brighten. Just a walk shouldn't be too strenuous, so you weren't terribly worried about his bones. Plus, you wouldn't be able to keep him in bed all day and this was a much better alternative to him going out and finding a fight.

"Let me just get changed into something more presentable."

It wasn't long before you were walking along the docks of the harbor with Childe. You were hand in hand with him, the redhead had grabbed your hand early on, intertwining your fingers with a cheeky grin. You didn't resist when he did this, comfortable with showing the small amount of affection even in public.

Looking out across the calm waters of the harbor, you couldn't help but think it matched the blue of the Harbinger's eyes. While he had an excellent poker face when necessary, Childe's eyes were often very expressive, allowing an easy read of his mood at a glance. Smiling fondly at the thought, you squeezed his hand gently before moving on.

The rest of the day progressed just as pleasantly, both you and Childe enjoying the sights of Liyue before getting lunch at Wanmin as he'd planned. After eating, you browsed the various stalls of Liyue's busy market, admiring the vast array of goods on display.

As the Snezhnayan had earlier predicted, you did meet Zhongli at the market and he did invite you two for tea. You wondered if he had planned it with Childe, but the polite man seemed entirely surprised to have encountered the both of you.

Tea with Zhongli turned out to be quite a lengthy endeavor, and you were rather exhausted by the end of it. He had recounted the history of Liyue well into the evening, in a way that reminded you of a professor during a lecture. It was Childe who was finally able to excuse the both of you, after several hours of education on the historic importance of Silk Flowers.

"Well, I did make a promise that I would rest, so I'm afraid we must be going."

"Ah, yes. It is always good to keep your promises," Zhongli agreed sagely, his words carrying a strange gravity. With polite goodbyes, you left with Childe to return to his apartment. The walk back was through darkness thanks to the hour, but the streets of Liyue were lit and there was still plenty of activity.

It was no surprise that both you and Childe were ready for bed by the time you made it through the door. He mumbled out a mostly unintelligible apology for how long tea with Zhongli had lasted before kissing the top of your forehead and disappearing into his room.

You stood in the hallways shocked by the affectionate gesture for a few seconds before deciding it would be best to just go to bed and forget about it. Surely the action was purely the result of exhaustion.

This time when you woke up the sun had already risen. Silently, you thanked Morax for not having to wake up to Childe's noisy breakfast-making. Even if his cooking was really good, without sleep you'd eventually become rather cranky, to put it lightly.

Exiting the spare bedroom, you found the Harbinger sprawled out on the couch looking through a stack of papers. You assumed it was Fatui business, something which you wanted nothing to do with at the moment. Maybe at another time, you would be interested in their secrets, but as of right now, they weren't really your problem.

"How are you feeling? In any pain?" you asked casually, making your way to the kitchen to retrieve some ice. Regardless of his answer, it was still advised to ice his side regularly.

"Mm, I'm fine. Took some of the medication earlier," he replied, most of his focus still on the documents in his hands. You briefly wondered how often it was that the Eleventh Harbinger did paperwork as opposed to fieldwork. You would have assumed he had a secretary or something for this kind of thing, though you supposed it made some sense for him to do it if he wasn't out in the field.

Leaving the kitchen with another makeshift icepack, you noticed he had set the papers down on the coffee table and draped an arm over his eyes. You raised a brow at this but didn't say anything as you placed the icepack on his side and sat on the couch where there was space beside his legs.

"I don't think I can last six weeks like this. I'm already dying of boredom," he confessed, raising his arm to see your response.

"I'm not sure I can last six weeks either," you replied snarkily. It seemed lost on him as he nodded in agreement before furrowing his brows and scowling at you. Realization.

"Hey, wait! What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, sitting up quickly and wincing at the resulting pain. You picked up the icepack that had slid down and pressed it against his side until one of his hands came up to hold it in place.

"It means I think sometimes you're a bit much," you laughed in response, ruffling his hair and causing his scowl to deepen. He swatted your hand away from his hair using his free hand, and you only smiled in amusement.

"I'll have you know I'm a fucking delight and you adore me," he asserted, staring you dead in the eyes with a challenging look. Now that he was closer, your eyes were drawn to the light smattering of freckles that crossed his nose and dusted both cheeks. From a distance, they weren't really visible, but now you could clearly see them.

"Mhm," you agreed absently, bringing a hand up to lightly cradle his jaw, swiping your thumb slowly across his cheek. It was only when he started leaning in that it dawned on you exactly what you were doing and how intimate it seemed. By the time his lips were pressed against yours, heat had risen to your cheeks and you were certain your face was a brilliant shade of scarlet. Luckily his eyes were closed so he couldn't see you in such a state, but you had a feeling he was able to feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Despite your flirtations having been unintentional, you didn't push Childe away. Instead, you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders and fell into the slow rhythm he had set. You heard the soft thump of something being tossed onto the coffee table, but you were distracted from that when his hands found your sides and he pulled you into his lap.

A soft breath left you when his lips moved down to your neck to place gentle kisses there. The featherlight touch had goosebumps raising across your skin and you were almost embarrassed by your body's reactions.

"Alright, maybe six weeks won't be too bad," Childe murmured against your neck and you could feel his smile. It made your heart flutter, you weren't sure you liked that.

"Oh, what made you change your mind?" you asked innocently, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Mm, I wonder." His lips began trailing back up your neck and over your jaw until he sealed them over yours again. The drag of his tongue across your bottom lip had you opening your mouth for him without a thought. In response, he pulled you closer to him, one hand reaching up to tangle in your hair.

When he finally pulled away, he smirked at your flushed appearance and the fact you were a bit breathless. The way he looked at you made butterflies flutter in your stomach and when his ocean eyes dropped to gaze at your lips you felt the overwhelming urge to flee.

"I need to go. I want to get you some proper icepacks from Baizhu and I should probably do some grocery shopping for you," you blurted, standing up. His arms fell easily away from you, but he looked up at you with a surprised and what you thought might be a slightly hurt expression.

"Um, okay," was all he could say as you retreated to the guest room to get dressed in something more appropriate for going out in public. Changing didn't take very long and you made sure to bring Mora along as you fled the apartment with barely so much as a 'goodbye'. Childe was still sitting stunned on the couch as you breezed out the door.

Running away was always a good way to deal with your problems.

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mazuwii · 3 years

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Eren Jaeger SFW Alphabet

Authors note: I hope this is feeding you guys because I am dragging this motivation by its hair😤

I was going to do Bertholdt next but I got a request for Miche so either of them will come out next😄

If you guys can’t comment (I’ve no idea how to turn replies on) Then I’m Lunology on wattpad, just comment on my aot scenarios book and I’ll post here! <3

—A (Affection, how affectionate is he?)

•Not the most lovey-dovey person in the entire cast, Eren is really shy when it comes to conveying his feelings for you. But when you both are alone, and he's comfortable with you he can hug you, or pinch your cheeks as a way of saying "You're so cute I could squish you into nothing."

•He has a very aggressive way of showing affection, like biting your cheek, kissing places with his hands clamping shut on them, it's difficult to get him to let go.

—B (Bestfriend, what would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

•Being best friends with Eren is a wild ride. You'd think he adopted you as a best friend being the loud, boisterous extrovert that he is yet you're the one always getting him out of trouble.

•He's loud, fun, spontaneous but incredibly annoying. My guy will SPAM you with useless TikTok videos, his entire fyp on your messages.

•But he's very funny too, he crops your faces on animated videos and it lowkey looks so shit that it's funny.

•As your best friend, Eren will fight anyone who even thinks about threatening you (lmao he can't fight) so you're just stuck with scolding him and disinfecting his bleeding lip💀

—C (Cuddling. Does he like to cuddle? How would he cuddle?)

•If he gets a random wave of gratitude he'd just randomly burst into your room and hug you, it would be sooo random. You're just playing a game and this guy hugs you but as a joke, he walks around the room while hugging you so the chair you're on walts around everywhere with him. Once you understand what this weirdo is doing you just burst out laughing with him because you both look dumb.

•Like the dude is just staring into space when he remembers that one time you slapped a teacher for him, or almost got yourself in trouble to give him something and he just goes: ƈ ͡ (ुŏ̥̥̥̥ ‸ ŏ̥̥̥̥) ु COME HERE Y/NNNNNN!!

•Eren is a pretty fun boyfriend, wouldn't just stick to a cuddle session, it would be more like... playing a game on the console with you sprawled out on his lap.

—D (Domestic. Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

•While Eren wants to tie a knot when it comes to you and him, having children never ever crosses his mind. It's just fun fun fun until you're twenty-eight and you're asking when he wants to have a mini Jaegar. He just looks a bit taken back because it isn't an easy job...

•And when it comes to cooking and cleaning, he's actually somewhat good at cleaning, never missing a spot with his aggressive wiping. However... I don't see him as a cooker if you get me💀 probably burnt his finger while boiling water and never tries again.

•If we're talking about domestic then yeah maybe, maybe he does have a nice husband in him. Not one that pretends there's a spider on you when you wake up... or nOt one that hogs the pillows.

—E (Ending, If he had to break up with his partner, how would he do it?)

•He felt as if he wasn't giving you enough and that other men could satisfy you. Eren would be too scared to face you when he breaks the news so he would leave a note and completely disappear from your life.

—F (Fiancé. How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

•Eren doesn't really put labels on things, at least, he says that... the guy calls you wifey even though you aren't married. Sure he may think about it for a few minutes but quickly shuts himself down since he's extremely shy when it comes to chatting about the two of you

•Eventually when he goes to all his friends' weddings, he gets jealous and decides he should put a ring on it LMAO, you can expect him to be incredibly flustered and even play it off with a 'cool' when you say yes. It's best you hug him so that you don't see how red his face turns.

•I'm just sayin' he's going all out for your wedding, it's so funny, he's so extra... why are their ten limousines? Men shooting guns upwards the moment you both kiss?! A fucking food fight-

—G (Gentle. How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

•If we're talking about physically, he is not gentle and he doesn't even try to be. He sometimes accidentally hurts you but never misses a second to kiss the spot and over-apologise. But Eren would never think about hurting you on purpose unless it was a life or death situation.

•Emotionally, he's fragile and would love reassurance. Emotionally, towards you, he doesn't be careful, always giving you jump scares, purposely pranking you

—H (Hugs, do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

•For you, he loves aggressive hugs where it's breaking your bones and he just lifts you off the floor and violently shakes you around like he can't get enough of you.

•He loves loves loves loves LOVES hugs when you two are alone and treating you like your a happy huge dog, ruffling every single part of your body for no reason at all and rubbing you with a relaxing force...?

•Again, Eren is very shy so you'd have to start hugging him first for him to get used to it and eventually, he'll be the one knocking into your body for a bear hug

—I (I love you. How fast do they say the L-word?)

•Eren says I love you through the number of shits he gives (Not literally)... If he cares about you he worries a lot and checks up on you almost all the time so

•It would probably be at a time where he did something so risky and you got so scared that the moment you caught onto him you cried it out, he'd apologetically say it back and hug you, with meaning of course.

—J (How Jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?)

•Coming from someone who tries her hardest to make this accurate, I can say Eren gets jealous to the m a x

•At first he thinks to himself that you'd tell whoever it is flirting with you to fuck off but his pride shatters when he realises you didn't say anything and it doesn't sound like you will

•My guy either walks out in dismay and gets petty with you afterwards or he walks up to you and tells you the both of you have to go home before shooting a dirty look at the flirty dude or straight up telling him to piss off

•That may result in a physical fight 💀 that guy needs anger management classes...

—K (Kisses, what are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

•For Eren, I can say that he doesn't make out often but when he does he'll probably leave your lips bruised, he has an obsession with biting your lip at the wrong time💀 he's too rough on most occasions, it isn't fun... calm down Jaegar.

•Eren loves kissing your cheek, except he bites it and leaves a slobber of saliva on it. He thinks it's cute as fuck, he won't stop.

•As for where he likes being kissed... he likes feeling delicate and loved so he really enjoys it when you sweep his rapunzel ass hair aside and kiss the temple of his forehead

—M (Mornings, how are mornings spent with him)

•The blanket is probably completely off of him and his leg is resting on your hip. He's an animal so the guy wakes up at like...6am without an alarm- it isn't even a training day! It's a day off! And he still wakes up at that early time.

•A few morning exercises for an hour before he attempts to wake you up... violently.

•Listen! Eren likes making breakfast with you, it doesn't feel the same without you- it's defintely not because he has no idea how to work the gas and oven🌚

•He's very funny and social when he isn't hungry so mornings are pretty fun with him, cracking a few jokes while getting you dirty with pancake mix (he said he can't control where flour goes, this is why you don't get him to cook)

•And then after that, it's time to shower... idk you decide if you'll go in with him¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (Just sayin' his skin is very red afterwards, my guy uses cold water but scrubs so hard with the lufa-)

—N (Night, how are nights spent with him?)

•Like I said, Eren is like a dog, he spends his days using his full energy and he makes sure to use it all up so by 22:00 he should be knocked out.

•Eren isn't too bothered on cooking so you both probably just watch something before bed while eating take out

•afterwards it's a... really boiling hot shower, brush your teeth, have a conversation in bed for a while until you're both falling asleep at the sound of your voices.

•"Hah... loser... I can...- I can see you falling asleep *Jaegar yawn* first..." even though he's the one with the heavy, falling eyelids.

—O (Open, when would he start revealing things about himself? Did he say everything all at once? Or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

•Eren is very hesitant when it comes to being emotional, he thinks it isn't very masculine so you have to remove the toxic part away and reassure him millions of times that just because he cried, it doesn't make him girly.

•It would be an accident, he'd be trying to go stargazinh with you, you were resting on his arm and he was rambling and the subject suddenly got onto him. Without realising, he spilled everything right then and there... somehow without crying.

•The least you could do was hold on his hand and squeeze it gently... I doubt he's paying attention, he's probably scowling in memory.

•It's best you reassure him that nothing is his fault, nothing could have prevented what happened

—P (Patience, how easily angered are they?)

•He is very impatient to say the least, a control freak.

•When things don't go his way, he shouts, punches walls, scrunches up his hair but the moment there are tears in his eyes, everyone needs to leave the room

•oh ho ho HOOO you don't want to Eren to cry from anger, he turns into the silent kid with a glock in his bag... leave him for an hour and you'll come back to a fully destroyed room👁👄👁

—Q (Quizzes, how much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

•He remembers dumb small details, your favourite flowers, why you don't like public bathrooms, the reason you won't stop annoying his half brother 💀 (You wanna know Zeke's wiping technique... who doesn't?!)

•However he can't for the life of him, remember your doctors appointment or to pick up your medicine... he's halfway home and goes "Fuck-"

—R (Remember, what is his favourite moment in your relationship?)

•He and you go out on a lot of dates, but they're always wacky and messy. One of his favourites was when you both attacked Armin at the beach with water guns and then both Armin and Mikasa were both searching for you to get revenge

•You two hid behind a palm tree, giggling lowly with each other, aiming to attack your two oblivious friends but little did you both know, they heard your low confident remarks and lunged from behind the tree with two full buckets of freezing sea water dumped on you.

•He always remembers that day when he drifts off into a daydream and it always makes him smile

—S (Security, how protective are they? How would they protect you?)

•Trust me when I say... Eren would kill for you...

•So in conclusion, he is very protective and would not hesitate to take far measures to protect you. He's pretty much your ride or die

•While he doesn't show his protectiveness, he acts on it... if that makes sense? Listen, he's very protective but he's sneaky about it! I don't know how to describe it

—T (Try. How much effort would he put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

•Despite how immature he seems, Eren completes all tasks in his day. And he makes sure of it

•When it comes to dates, it's very random... more spontanous but it's always something like. "Oh by the way, we're going to a waterpark this Sunday." Orrr "Babe! Get ready, we're going to eat out with Armin and his girlfriend!"

•You have an hour and a half to get ready so I would call your relationship active 😭 not even sexually active just active.

•Eren can be thoughtful but you have to shove your interests in his face for him to know what you want. Cartoon posters? He catches you watching a lot of gravity falls, steven universe, AWOG, etc... and then anytime he sees stuff to do with that in shops, he gets it for you on the way.

—U (Ugly, what are some bad habits of his?)

•Like I said earlier, Eren has some... mild anger issues🌚

•Nothing can calm him down, unless you have Ackerman strength I doubt you can stop him. He has no idea how to deal with his emotions so it just bubbles up and then he sees an object and thinks 💡 this can take my shit load of anger

•The walls probably have a lot dents yk and calming him down is very difficult but to be thoughtful, you tried getting him a few things to help him deal with his stress properly

—V (Vanity, how concerned is he with his looks)

•Couldn't really give two shits about his appearance, my guy grew rapunzel ass hair and just tied it up because I doubt he's bothered to take care of it

•Sure he wouldn't mind you washing it for him and applying conditioner, in fact, he loves it.

•Eren doesn't care about his appearance and just throws on a hoodie and sweatpants most of the time. You have to choose the shit he wears when you go out on fancy occassions 💀

—W (Whole, would they feel incomplete without you?)

•Again, to Eren, you're his world and he'd do anything to make sure that world is safe and healthy so without you, who would he feel the need to protect?

•Okay MAYBE he doesn't like worrying but he just does so I guess that would be a good thing if you broke up but it isn't as worth it💀

•But ever since you've been his sunshine cheerleader, he can't imagine a morning without your whining ass voice, or fighting with you to the bathroom in the morning, jumping on your back out of nowhere

•You're everywhere in his head, of course he couldn't feel whole without you

—X (Xtra, a random headcannon for him)

•Anytime Eren loses at something(it could be a hobby or a game) he'd stop doing it. Just dropping the entire thing.

•Unless he feels competitive, that always fires him up to do better... so in a way, Jean motivates him to do things. Those two actually care for each other but they hate each other (not literally) they're like siblings!

•Sorry, am I making sense?💀

—Y (Yuck, what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in person?)

•First of all, my mans fucking hates chocolate, put it near him and he'll kick it or throw it against the nearest wall.

•Like Eren was such a good boi when he was little, eating everything his momma put on his plate, even the brussel sprouts he fucking despised.

•But chocolate is his last straw. Chocolate and peanut butter. It gets stuck to the roof of his mouth and he panics like a drama queen, fanning his face like a princess and washing his mouth with his heart POUNDING against his chest

—Zzz (What are some sleeping habits of his?)

•He sleeps pretty normally, when he turns he lets out a soft satisfied groan, which I'd say is ordinary

•As for his sleeping weight, I'd say he's a heavy sleeper, you'd need to shake him to wake him up, slap his face or something because when that sleep is BUSSIN he won't be WAKIN (bad joke sorry)

•And he's gaping. Shut his mouth please.

•His hands may accidentily fall on some places on your body, he places them everywhere. Like on your nose, on your belly

Authors note:

Have you guys noticed that I don't add the letter L🌚? *shocked noises*

Jaaaa that's because I don't wanna write about kids so forgive me lmao

I'M SO GLAD THIS IS FINISHED! I WANT TO ADD EVERY CHARACTER COS I FEEL SO BAAAAAD FOR NOT DOING A LOT OF YOUR REQUESTS!

Deadass my brain just went bye bye when it came to writing and I recharge by reading actual original work by published authors, it helps me get back on track

Bertholdt/Miche is next!

#Eren #eren fluff #eren sfw #eren yaeger aot #eren yaeger #eren jaeger #Ereh!#erehhhh #mikasa moment #eren x reader

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javier-pena · 3 years

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bloodstain

Chapter 2 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Rating: Mature

Notes: First, let me start with saying that at this point taking a bullet for Dani @javierpcna doesn’t feel like it would be enough. She literally drops everything whenever I send her a new or revised chapter to look over and i cannot thank her enough! I kinda surprised myself with how quickly I finished this chapter, but that’s also thanks to Dani because the highlight of my day is sending her small snippets of what I’ve written and having her reply with “?????”. I also want to thank all of you who read the first chapter and left comments and sent messages, it means the world to me! I was so nervous about sharing this with you all, but I’m so glad I did. And finally, let me end this with saying happy birthday, Chrisann @darksber!!! I hope you have a fun birthday and I hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one.

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The snow comes over night. The cold, clean smell is the first thing your mind registers, even before it has time to make you feel confused about the strange bedsheets wrapped around you. And then you remember.

The screams.

The blaster shots

The fire, the blazing heat engulfing you, burning your skin.

Those men on their speeder bikes, laughing, looting, taking whatever the fuck they want.

And you, unable to stop them.

The feeling of cold, all-consuming despair makes a shiver run down your spine, makes you curl up in a tight ball beneath your blanket and shake so violently it makes you feel sick. Then you cry, and with the tears comes the heat until you’re so hot you feel sweat collect at the nape of your neck and run down your back in icy beads. After yesterday, you hadn’t expected there to be any tears left, but there are, so many, and they don’t stop, they seem to be endless, like a river flowing, rushing, tumbling over rocks and down a precipice, drowning everything in its way.

You hate those men, you loathe them, you want them dead, torn apart by wild animals, you want them dead after they beg you for their miserable lives, you want them dead and forgotten. That anger and that lust for revenge that seem to take up every cell and atom in your body are what finally helps you to stop crying. They don’t help you to calm yourself – you are anything but calm – but they help you to focus your rage on one goal: kill them all.

Because with the memories of the pain and the despair and the utter helplessness you felt yesterday (and still feel today) comes the memory of him. The Mandalorian. And remembering him means remembering the hope you felt when he offered his services, when he pledged himself to your cause. Shit. You shake your head. He did no such thing. He accepted a job. He only cares about the money, he doesn’t care about the cause. Yes, he will help you achieve your goal, but he’s emotionally detached from it. And you need to remember that. You need to remember it for your own sake because as soon as you assume anything else, it’ll get messy.

And he terrifies you. He terrifies you so much, especially in the light of day. Because the morning sun makes him feel real, solid, and so much more dangerous. And you have a feeling you shouldn’t keep him waiting.

You finally sit up and roll your neck and shoulders to relieve the pain the previous day’s labors have left behind. You couldn’t defend yourself against the Mandalorian, even if the muscles in your body weren’t screaming with pain. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You don’t know why you would trust a complete stranger like that after everything that has happened to you, why you would trust a complete stranger who could snap your neck like a dry twig. Being around him feels like being constantly held at gunpoint. One wrong move and you’re dead.

But you need him.

Maker, you need him.

You get out of bed and stretch, then run your hand over your face to dry it off. There is a bowl of water on a small table next to the bed. You have to break the thin layer of ice that has formed on the surface, and when you splash it on your face, it is freezing, but at least it makes your burning cheeks feel numb and it eases the stinging in your eyes. You know you look a mess, but you don’t care. You get dressed in your soot-blackened clothes and then leave the small room. You have no idea if you’ll ever sleep in a bed again.

***

The morning air is icy cold. Two suns have risen, but the third one still hides behind the trees. The air is foggy, misty, and clouds of smoke pass you by. The settlement is already busy. In a shop next to the inn, a man heckles with the vendor in a raised voice. Two farmers lead a small herd of tauntauns down the street, while everyone tries to get out of their way. In the distance, a child is crying. It smells like fire and snow and life. You hate it.

The everyday noises are overwhelming to you; the melody of a hammer hitting metal in a nearby forge makes your skull vibrate, the voices of people talking makes you want to cover your ears with your hands and yell at them to shut up, the reverberations of the tauntauns’ claws against the frozen ground makes you want to take cover somewhere and hide until nightfall.

But you don’t run or hide or even just turn around to take a breath. Instead, you focus your attention on the Mandalorian.

He is waiting for you outside the inn. A thin layer of snow has collected on his shoulders, a sign he’s been standing motionless for a while. Even though the morning sunlight is pale and makes everything look hazy, you see him clearly. So clearly that you have to squint your eyes when you look at him. His beskar armor glistens from the sunlight it reflects, so much that the people on the street turn their heads to look at him. The wisps of smoke rushing past shroud him, but it’s not enough to dim the dancing shimmers. He carries a long staff strapped to his back, a kind of spear you’re pretty sure he didn’t have with him the previous night at the inn. And his face is hidden behind the helmet again, which probably shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. All of this just makes him look wrong. He looks so out of place standing in the middle of this dirt-poor settlement it makes you want to pretend you don’t have anything to do with him.

So you focus on what’s behind him. In one hand, he holds the reins of three orbaks, in the other a small bundle. He presses it against his chest like he’s holding a small child, not a lifeless piece of cloth. The orbaks are big, wooly beasts, dark grey in color, with two long, dangerously pointy tusks hanging from their mouths. Two of them have saddles strapped to their backs, the third one is laden with crates, saddle bags, even two long guns. The more you look at it, the more weapons you spot. What does one man need so many for? So much baggage will just slow you down. The bandits already have a day’s head start and travelling on heavily loaded orbaks will give them even more of an advantage. But this is probably the best the Mandalorian could do – the settlement is so poor, not even merchants sell speeder bikes – who would be able to afford them?

You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, painfully aware that the fire destroyed everything except for the clothes you’re wearing. But they’re not enough to protect you from the bitter cold. You can see your breath hovering in a pale cloud in front of your face when you exhale slowly, you can feel the snowflakes on your bare lower arms as you walk toward the Mandalorian. You have no idea how he can stand there like the cold is nothing to him. Beskar doesn’t protect against low temperatures. To you, this is just further proof of how much he’s not human.

“Here,” he says, as you stop in front of him, holding the bundle out to you.

“What’s this?” you ask with a small nod at him, the bundle, and the orbaks. You don’t take it.

The Mandalorian looks behind him, then back at you. “Supplies,” he says.

You take the bundle from him and untie the chord that’s tightly wound around it. Folding back the thin cloth, you unwrap a long, dark brown leather cloak with fur linings and a thick, woolen scarf. The scarf looks itchy but feels very soft against your skin and the coat lies heavy in your arms, like a dead animal. The sight of these clothes leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and you don’t move to put them on. Instead, you stand there, pressing the unwrapped bundle against your chest, and look at the Mandalorian with raised eyebrows.

“What’s this?” you repeat.

He doesn’t reply, just nods and makes a gesture with his now empty hand, motioning you to hurry up.

You don’t. You just look at him, shivering more and more with each passing second. You’re not sure if it’s from the cold or from the anger you’ve been feeling since yesterday, since waking up this morning, since unwrapping the bundle; everything is stoking up the fire, feeding your flaming rage

“Listen,” you start. You try not to let your feelings get the better of you, but it’s impossible. You don’t quite know yourself why this small gesture enrages you as it does, you just know you need to set some boundaries right now. “I don’t need your pity,” you continue. “I don’t need you to look out for me. I can take care of myself.”

The Mandalorian huffs. “This isn’t a gift,” he says, his voice completely level. “I’m paying for it with your money. I’m not forcing you to wear it, but if you go on the journey like that,” he nods at you, “you’ll freeze. You’re no use to me dead.”

You feel heat rush to your face and settle in your cheeks. Without another word you put on the coat and tie the scarf around your neck. The coat rests heavy on your shoulders, weighing you down. It’s a size too big, but snug, and you stop shivering immediately. You run your left hand along the right sleeve under the pretense of fixing it, but you just want to feel the material under your fingers. It’s softer than it looks, which just serves to make you feel embarrassed and … stupid.

You feel stupid, so, so stupid. Did you really expect him to make you a gift? To look out for you? To care for you? You hired him to do a job and he’s just making sure you stay alive long enough to pay him. Much like the owner of a racing stable would do with his fathier. You scold yourself for having misread the situation. You blame it on the exhaustion you still feel, on the trauma you lived through, on the need for human connection you had no idea you even felt. There is no way to come out of this situation without feeling like a fool, so you just decide to ignore it. After all, it’s best if you just forgot about the whole thing. All you need to do in future is to be more careful around him so you don’t misinterpret his intentions again.

“Supplies?” you ask to distract yourself.

You wish you could see his face when he says, “Were you just going to follow them on foot with no food or weapons?” Because it doesn’t sound as if he’s mocking you, even though he should be. Hell, you should be mocking yourself. But he just sounds genuinely curious, as if this is a discussion about a topic you’re both not emotionally invested in, not a question of life and death.

“No,” you answer slowly, then look away. You have to admit you hadn’t thought about it yet, you were too focused on the idea of hunting those men down that you didn’t even consider you needed tools, supplies, food, and a means of transportation. “Thank you,” you add.

The Mandalorian gives you a curt nod, accepting your words of gratitude. You’re glad he doesn’t press the subject, any subject really.

Without him, you would have been dead within a day.

***

It is still snowing when you and the Mandalorian leave the settlement behind. As you begin your journey into the unknown, tiny snowflakes settle in the fur of your orbak, making it appear white instead of dark grey. It blends in perfectly with your surroundings, where everything is light shades of blue, grey, and brown. And white, so much white. You squint your eyes and yet the light still stings to the point you tear up. You envy the Mandalorian his tinted visor and you wish you had something similar to protect yourself. Alvorine’s three suns hang low, their pale blue light filtered through hazy clouds. Everything you see is blurred and too bright to look at directly – it makes you feel vulnerable and exposed. Even as you enter the cover of the trees, their bare branches do little to help keep out the light and the snow and so you lower your eyes to your reddened hands holding your orbak’s reins as you trust the Mandalorian to lead the way.

The air is cold this morning, so cold you tie your new scarf over your mouth and nose and still feel it sting in your throat. Your face, still raw from crying, stings too. Your hands are frozen shut around the reins and you can’t feel your fingers. When you try to move them, the action is painfully slow. You shiver despite the heavy coat on your shoulders as you sit hunched over to give the cold air less opportunity to cover your body with icy touches. You would never admit to it out loud because you’ve already embarrassed yourself enough for one day, but the Mandalorian was right – you would have frozen to death within a few hours of leaving the shelter of the settlement.

You raise your head briefly to look at him riding ahead of you, but he is the brightest object in a 10-mile radius, you think, brighter than your orbak’s fur or the snow-covered ground. Back in the settlement, you already noticed how the suns’ light reflects off his polished beskar armor, but out here in the forest with nothing around to distract your gaze, he is like a homing beacon, like a bright, blazing fire lit in complete darkness. This brazen display makes you shiver; he is on top of the food chain, too quick and powerful and deadly to hide his presence. He could be spotted from miles away by someone on a sentry tower and yet the person keeping watch wouldn’t stand a chance. The Mandalorian would catch them sooner or later, no matter how well they were trying to hide. Nothing can escape him, so there is no reason for him to hide his presence, to sneak from cover to cover like a thief in the night.

He frightens you.

What is also bearing down on you is the silence surrounding him, you and your orbaks. Yes, there is the sound of their hooves against the frozen ground, the swoosh of their fur every time they shake their heads, the soft thud whenever they brush up against a branch, making snow glide to the ground. But that’s it. That’s all you hear. The Mandalorian travels in complete silence. His armor doesn’t squeak or thump. You cannot hear the sound of his slow, steady breathing. Even his hands lie completely silently on the nape of his orbak’s neck, the reins resting against the worn leather of his gloves. And you envy him those gloves because the further you travel into the forest, the colder it gets, and the stiffer and more unresponsive your fingers get.

You cannot recall the last time you felt this uncomfortable. You wish there was something to distract you from – well – everything. Yes, you’re grateful the Mandalorian doesn’t ask you personal questions because you buried your old life beneath wet soil and dirt yesterday, and with it you buried any desire to share it with a complete stranger. He also doesn’t ask you about the men you’re hunting, and you feel like he doesn’t have to because he just knows. Maybe he talked to the people back at the settlement, maybe it’s the years of experience he’s had hunting people for a living or maybe it’s just instinct – he knows where he needs to be going, he knows what kind of equipment to bring along, and he knows what the best strategy is to catch his quarry.

You don’t know any of these things. And the more you stray from the bare minimum of human civilization and into the wilderness of Alvorine, the more you realize you wouldn’t stand a chance without the Mandalorian. You would’ve frozen to death if he hadn’t given you the coat. Or you would have starved, or died from exhaustion from trying to carry all your supplies yourself. You would have gotten lost and eaten alive by a wild beast. Or you would, by some miracle, have caught up with the men, but would’ve gotten killed by them because you didn’t bring a weapon. By the look of it, the Mandalorian brought enough for a small army. And the more you think about it, the more you are prepared to admit that you were never seriously planning on going after the bandits. You are prepared to admit you were just looking for a way out so you wouldn’t have to live with the pain. One or two rash decisions made from a place of hurt and despair, one or two unplanned steps can mean death on Alvorine. While wallowing in your revenge fantasies, you weren’t thinking about Brea – you were just thinking about yourself.

But somehow – and this time you’re convinced it’s because of his instincts – the Mandalorian offered you a chance at success, one you might not even have wanted. He listened to the people in that inn and decided helping you with your cause is the right job for him. You’ve never heard of a Mandalorian like that. You always assumed they were only interested in money or the thrill of chasing down the rich and the powerful, in letting them know that no amount of credits can keep them safe. But here he is, content with spending a week or more in the forests of Alvorine, hunting down base criminals for the ridiculous amount of 240 credits. It doesn’t add up. And you would ask him about it if he wasn’t an unapproachable, withdrawn man, covered in impenetrable armor. You would ask him if he didn’t terrify you so much.

You wish you could talk to him about … something, you just don’t know about what.

But he makes that decision for you. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

His voice cuts so unexpectedly through the silence that you flinch. It somehow surprises you that he is real and not just a concept you’ve made up in your mind, and idea to help you live out your fantasies of revenge and vengeance.

When you don’t answer, he turns his head to look at you. You squint when you return his gaze, trying to make up your mind whether you are hungry or not (something that feels impossible when all you are is terribly, terribly cold), but then he pulls on the reins of his orbak and brings it to a halt in the middle of the path. He glides down from the animal in one swift movement; a small cloud of freshly fallen snow rises up when his feet hit the ground but there is still no sound and this is starting to unnerve you. It takes him a few steps until he’s next to you, the top of his head reaching your shoulder, even though you’re still mounted high on your orbak, and then he says in a rough, almost unkind tone of voice, “I asked you a question”.

And you remember the deal, you remember having agreed to doing as he tells you. It’s just, you don’t have an answer for him. So you just shrug.

He grabs the rein of your orbak and you finally – finally! – hear his movements make a sound, a low creak as the leather of his glove brushes against the leather of the bridle. The orbak shakes its shaggy head but he doesn’t flinch. His visor is directed at you and you know he expects an answer from you. He’s growing impatient, you can tell from the way his shoulders tense as he lets his gaze wander over your body.

“You’re hypothermic,” he observes, and as the words leave his mouth, so does the air you’ve been holding in and you start shaking uncontrollably.

Now that he’s pointed it out, there is no denying it. You’re cold, so, so cold, frozen and raw, you can’t feel your own lips, your nose, your cheeks. Your fingers are lifeless lumps against the coarse fur of your orbak. If the animal would decide to bolt at this very moment, you wouldn’t be able to hold it back. You’re not even sure you could climb down from the beast right now. Of all the deadly dangers of Alvorine it’s the cold that has finally gotten to you. It’s laughable, and you would laugh, if you could feel your face.

“Can you dismount?” he asks you then.

This is a question you can answer. “I think so,” you say, even though you know you can’t. Your legs are like two solid bricks of ice, too stiff to be moved.

“Do it then,” he says, and it sounds so much like a challenge that you’re determined to show him you can do it.

He doesn’t watch your pathetic display though. He lets go of the rein and walks to the third orbak that is carrying most of your supplies. You’re grateful for that because as soon as you try to dismount, you feel your body tense even more until you glide down from the orbak with a disgraceful plop and land in the soft snow with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The sounds you make draw the attention of the Mandalorian back to you, but he doesn’t rush to your side to offer you help. Instead, he turns his attention back to the task at hand, looking through one of the bags strapped to the pack animal. You’re convinced he rolls his eyes under the cover of the helmet.

You try to get up, and you manage after two fruitless attempts. Your legs are shaking, but at least they’re supporting your weight. Walking on them is another topic you’re not prepared to cover yet. And then you feel it again, that hot sting of embarrassment you felt this morning, trying to make itself known by speeding up your heart rate and adding a feeling of nausea to your general discomfort. You push it down without batting an eyelash. There is no reason to feel like this, especially if you compare yourself to the Mandalorian. Not everyone can be a ruthless killing machine, immune to environmental influences.

Then he’s back by your side, and with a gruff, “Hold this,” he pushes a heating pad into your hands. You’re not sure at first if it’s switched on because you don’t feel anything, but when you move it around in your hands looking for the on button you notice it’s cranked up to the highest setting.

“You need to tell me when you’re cold,” the Mandalorian continues in the same gruff tone of voice, while he unscrews a flask.

Once it’s opened, he pushes it into your hand with such force you stumble backwards. Your whole body tenses at the contact and you realize you’re completely alone with him. There is not another living soul around for miles except for the three animals next to you, and they won’t come to your aid if he suddenly decides to kill you. And he could. He is so strong; you had no idea how strong until he pushed you back like that with a motion that didn’t seem to take any effort at all. And with another effortless motion, he could close a hand around your neck and squeeze until there is no air left in your body. You wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Drink,” he orders.

You do. It’s a hot liquid – tea, you think – but with a bitter taste to it. It warms you up instantly, much quicker than the heating pad does. You still can’t feel your fingers.

“Just tell me next time,” he repeats. “Losing a finger to hypothermia is a nasty business.”

And now you do feel embarrassed again. You’re a burden, you’re slowing him down. You already lost a quarter of an hour because you can’t handle a bit of cold. It’s not surprising he usually works alone. No one is able to keep up with him, least of all you in your weakened, exhausted state.

But you can’t turn back. You refuse to give up so easily.

You nod to show him you’ve understood his instructions. Then you let your gaze wander around, looking for something to distract you. You can feel heat rising to your cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the warm drink or the heating pad. You know it doesn’t because you’re still shivering. But you’re not going to apologize to him. For some reason, you feel like he would just brush it off, act like it’s no big deal. But it is to you, and you wouldn’t be able to bear him acting nonchalantly. The other possible response to an apology from you would be him trying to comfort you and you definitely. don’t. want. that. The mere thought makes your heart beat so rapidly it feels like it’s going to explode any second. The mere thought of one of his hands resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture makes you want to run. You don’t want him to care for you because it’s entirely at odds with his character, his whole being. He is here to hunt and kill, not to hold and comfort. And this is what you need right now – a killer, not a caretaker.

You take a few steps, walk past him toward a fallen tree to calm your nerves. The deep breaths of cold air you take make you cough, but he doesn’t even flinch. Good. You’re usually not like this, you’re usually not someone who can’t take care of themselves. After all, you’ve lived on Alvorine your entire life, you know how harsh the winters can be and how dangerous the cold is. But yesterday’s events broke something in you, and the realization that you might never recover from it begins to dawn on you, take hold of you with a grip icier than the snow clinging to your worn-out boots. The weight of what happened to you slams into you with full force and you have to lean against a tree, its rough bark scraping uncomfortably against your cold, bare hand.

And then you see it – the bloodstain. One single, impossibly small, impossibly red bloodstain on the virgin-white snow. And everything stops.

You lurch forward and fall to your knees to examine it more closely. Yes, it’s definitely blood. You raise your head to look around, but you can’t spot anything out of the ordinary, just trees and snow and your own footprints. Your breath comes in short, labored bursts, and you suddenly don’t feel cold anymore. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all.

“What is it?”

The Mandalorian is there, crouching by your side. You point to the small, red dot, and he raises his hand to touch his helmet. His body grows rigid as he examines it, all the while not moving an inch. You don’t want to hear his verdict, don’t want to hear the conclusion he’s come to. That bloodstain stirs something inside you, a panic with such deep roots you feel it taking over your entire body, growing like weed, choking all other feelings, all life out of you.

Something in your body language must have given away this panic you feel, because suddenly the Mandalorian turns to you and says, “I need you to calm down.”

You nod, unable to speak. Then you turn your head away from him and throw up.

“Hey,” he says, and something in his voice catches your attention. It sounds almost … soft.

You turn back to him, running your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you apologize.

“I’m going to look around,” he tells you. Then he raises his hand as if to comfort you, but you flinch away from him. His hand hovers outstretched between the two of you for a brief moment before he lowers it again. “Just stay here. Try to eat something. I won’t be long.”

He pushes himself off the ground, towering over you. You stand up too, your legs shaking, but before you can embarrass yourself more by stumbling into him, he takes off in a slow-paced run and you stare after him until the trees swallow him up. And then you’re alone. Alone with three orbaks and your panicked mind.

It’s not Brea’s blood, you tell yourself.

But what if it is? a different voice asks.

It’s not. It snowed during the night, and we’re too far behind those bandits. It can’t be hers.

It can, you know it can. They could have left her here to die.

There would be more tracks.

Then why are you panicking? Why did you throw up?

You can’t argue with that. Instead, you sink to the ground again, bury your head in your hands, and scream. You scream so loudly that even though the sound comes out muffled, the orbaks still move their heads nervously. A few trees away, a flock of birds takes off, chittering in disapproval. You scream until your lungs begin to burn, until your throat stings, until you feel like you’ve just sprinted ten miles. Then you grow quiet.

***

When the Mandalorian returns, it’s almost dark. You’re not freezing anymore because you spent the last two hours or so pacing up and down the path through the undergrowth you’ve made earlier, your mind racing with scenarios of him not returning before nightfall. You fear the nights on Alvorine and you know you should have told him about the dangers these forests hold. Because how could he have known that it’s almost impossible to survive a night out in the wilderness? Almost because if anyone could do it, it would be him.

When he returns, the pauldron on his right shoulder is smeared with dirt and his chest is heaving with silent pants, but he’s alone. You’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he decides without so much as a greeting.

You open your mouth to tell him how dangerous that would be but then close it again when you remember the nearest settlement is miles and miles away and you wouldn’t reach it in time before nightfall. You don’t have any other choice.

He sends you to collect some wood while he moves to tie up the orbaks. You scold yourself for not having done that earlier when you were waiting for him, but you had hoped it wouldn’t take him quite as long and he would be back sooner. As you move around, picking up the driest branches you can find, you glance over at him from time to time. He is lost in his own task, tying the reins to nearby tree trunks, patting one orbak’s neck, then scratching another one’s muzzle. They trust him, stand completely still in his presence while he circles them, examining them for any injuries or anything that might cause them discomfort.

Finally, curiosity gets the better of you. “What did you find?” you ask, as you break a big, dead branch into two parts.

“Nothing,” he replies in his brusque fashion you’re slowly getting used to. “A dead animal.”

You nod, then focus on the task at hand. Your small discovery and subsequent … breakdown? … panic attack? … you don’t know what to call it, has already cost you so much time. You could’ve covered twice the distance today if he hadn’t stopped here because of you. But … this isn’t a rescue mission, you keep forgetting about that. This is a quest for revenge, and those bandits will be there, no matter how long it will take you to find them. It doesn’t matter if it takes you two days or two months to reach them.

“Did you eat?” the Mandalorian asks you, interrupting your train of thought.

You shake your head and he sighs. Then he reaches into one of the saddle bags and pulls out a ration pack, tossing it to you. He proceeds to clear away the snow around the small pile of wood you’ve collected before doing something with his arm, so flames shoot out of the vambrace, igniting the stack. You can’t help but stare in fascination because you’ve never seen anything like it.

It doesn’t take him long to get a fire going. You grab one of the two bundled up, coarse blankets from the pack orbak and spread it on the ground next to the heat source, huddling up close for warmth and protection. You tear open the ration pack and begin to eat.

“I should’ve told you before, but it’s dangerous out here at night.” Your mouth full, you watch as the Mandalorian sits down opposite you, the fire between you. The warmth spreading through your body and your steadily filling stomach make you talkative. “There’s monsters in these woods.”

He chuckles softly but you’re sure it’s just your imagination. There is no way you could’ve heard a sound like that over the crackling fire. But before you can ask him about it, he raises his hand to remove the dirty pauldron from his shoulder, and you’re so distracted by that piece of steel being lifted off the body it usually protects that you stop thinking altogether for a moment. It’s stupid, you know that, but a part of you still thinks he might be a machine, and seeing that pauldron being removed from his shoulder feels almost forbidden, like you’re the audience to some ancient, sacred ritual you have no right to observe. You lower your gaze to the flickering flames.

“I’ll keep an eye out for those monsters,” he assures you, and you’re not sure if he meant for it to sound mockingly, but it doesn’t.

You still don’t think he fully believes you.

“Alvorine is a dangerous planet,” you tell him in a quiet tone of voice. “It might not seem like it compared to what you’re used to, but to us the dangers are very real.” You’re still not looking at him, but there is no point – you can’t see his face anyway.

“I believe you,” he says. “But fire is usually enough to keep the monsters at bay.”

As a response, you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s watching you. So you finally raise your head again to look at him. The pauldron is back on his shoulder, but his gaze is directed at the orbaks.

“I’m going to feed them,” he tells you. “They’re getting restless. Try to get some sleep.”

You nod again and stretch out on the cold, hard ground. Shivering, you pull your coat tighter around yourself. The fire is barely warm enough to keep your fingers and toes from falling off, and once it dies down, there won’t be anything keeping you from freezing to death. Briefly, you’re considering pulling the blanket out from beneath you to use it as a cover, but then you wouldn’t have anything to protect you from the cold ground. With a sigh, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the discomfort. Instead, you focus on the sounds around you, on the branches brushing against each other when a cold breeze tears at them, on the orbaks huffing impatiently and almost nervously, and on the crackling fire, the heat that makes a piece of wood snap in half ever so often. And then you hear another sound, footsteps, and your eyes snap open again.

The Mandalorian towers over you, and it’s the first time you were able to hear him approach. Instead of feeling proud of yourself, you bolt upright, adrenaline pumping through your veins. Whatever happens next, you know you don’t stand a chance against him. He slowly leans down, and you try to get away from him, but your muscles are frozen stiff and don’t cooperate. His arms move as if to grab you and a strangled cry escapes your throat.

But it’s just a blanket, just the other blanket, and he wraps it tightly around your shoulders. “Here,” he says with a low grunt. If he noticed your alarm, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look at his helmet reflecting the light of the dancing flames, and you wish you knew what was going on beneath it. Is he offended? Annoyed? Or maybe just as cold and exhausted as you?

“What about you?” you ask, grabbing the coarse material to hold it tightly against your body.

“I’m not cold,” he answers, standing up again. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you before sunrise.”

You watch him walk back to the other side of the fire and settle down on the cold ground with just his cape to keep him warm. And for the first time since you met him, his stoic presence doesn’t fill you with dread or panic or trepidation – he just makes you feel calm.

tag list: @bella-ciao, @chattychell, @darksber, @filthybookworm, @frannyzooey, @khalysa, @leannawithacapitala, @magicrowiswritingstuff, @mothandpidgeon, @mbpokemonrulez, @mrsparknuts, @mxsamwilson, @mylifeofcalculatedchaos, @pescopadral, @piscespussybabe, @something-tofightfor

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #star wars #din djarin #pedro pascal #fanfic #the hunt fic #lmao i'm still a coward though and currently asleep #tw: flashing gif

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peachy-cream-writer · 4 years

Note

what about the obey me boys x a workaholic reader, who kinda disregards her health? haha-

Obey Me brothers with a workaholic s/o

warnings ~ none ^-^

I hope that you liked this!! So sorry about the delay in posting ahh! ive been so busy recently and struggling with the famous writers block :( I hope that everyone is having a good week though! And if not I send my love <3 !!!

Lucifer

❀ Lucifer himself can actually understand what’s it’s like to focus solely on work from time to time

❀ Working with Diavolo, also having to manage school and his brothers isn’t an easy task so he finds himself stressing out a lot

❀ But when he sees you overworking yourself he’s instantly by your side, pulling you away from your work

❀ He makes you some warm tea, special, just like Lilith used to make him when he was stressed

❀ “But Lucifer-“

❀ “No, I’ve seen you overworking yourself and I’m worried about you”

❀ He scolds you lovingly, scooping you up in his arms for the evening, no matter how much you protest

Mammon

❀ Now this boy doesn’t see the point in overworking

❀ He does things the easy way, which doesn’t always work out...

❀ But when he sees you overworking and neglecting yourself he gets very confused, why would you do that to yourself? You’re hurting his favourite thing! You!

❀ He gets very fussy and whiny

❀ Often pulling you away from your work and begging you to cuddle him

❀ From then on he forces you away from your work for the week! Making you relax and pay attention to him

❀ Because he can’t be away from you for really long periods of time as he’s a needy bitch boy. He just wants you to cuddle him

❀ When he lets you get back to working he always offers to help, which he never lets you tell his brothers about because otherwise they’d want his help too

❀ He wants you to take care of yourself and also pay attention to him, he is greedy afterall

Leviathan

❀ Leviathan notices how little you start to play your favourite games or settle down to watch anime with him and it makes him a little upset

❀ He starts to watch you working and figures out the problem

❀ Poor Levi just wanted to watch some anime with his boo but you’re so busy and he felt bad for dragging you away from your work

❀ But it was so late!

❀ And even he doesn't spend this long gaming, which is certainly saying something!

❀ Levi gets very tired and whiny and impatient so he grabs your chair and pulls you back from your desk and lifts you into his arms, not uttering a word

❀ He starts up your favourite anime and pulls you into have a warm cuddle

❀ He has a glass of water next to his bed which he makes you drink, again not saying anything

❀ Simply he lets his red cheeks do all the talking

❀ He loves you and he wants you to take care of yourself but he doesn't really know how to put that into words ... he still gets flustered with feelings around you

❀ For Levi, actions speak louder than words

Satan

❀ Satan would have sympathy towards you and anger towards the people that are overworking you

❀ He knows that you love working but he can't help himself from stepping in, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving you a stern but caring look

❀ You know what that look means so you nod and pull yourself away from your work for the rest of the night

❀ Satan usually pulls you into his lap and reads a book with you, reading the words to you in hopes of lulling you to sleep, knowing you probably haven't slept very well recently

❀ He’s so caring, pulling some fresh pyjamas onto your body and pressing a kiss to your head as he tucks you in next to him

❀ In the mornings he wakes up early and heads down to breakfast to grab you your favourite foods and a coffee for your day ahead

❀ He even helps you with a little bit of your work

❀ Sometimes your desk is messy and he cleans it all up for you and then gives you a lil shoulder massage

Asmodeus

❀ When Asmo sees you neglecting yourself for your work he knows exactly what to do

❀ Firstly he moves you right away from your work and calls for a day off

❀ He treats you to several things

❀ Skin care treatments, massages, back rubs, a manicure and even buys you something pretty!

❀ Asmo knows that you need to be spoiled and he’s perfectly fine with helping you relive some stress

❀ He takes you out to dinner and is ever so romantic

❀ Drinks are on him!

❀ He even brings back a bottle of champagne for you to share in his room, cuddled together in pretty bath robes, nails done perfectly and skin soft to the touch

❀ Asmo presses kisses all over your face and spends the rest of the night cuddled up by your side, enjoying the smell of your new sweet perfume which he'd treated you to

Beelzebub

❀ This sweet little angel notices straight away

❀ You didn’t come downstairs for breakfast and even missed lunch

❀ He knew that even humans needed to eat, maybe not as much as him but still!

❀ He takes some food to your room (way more than you could ever eat in one sitting)

❀ When he sees you at your computer or at your desk he knows you’ve been working hard

❀ But you needed a break

❀ Beel simply wraps his arms around you, ignoring your attempts at escaping him

❀ He pulls you in for a cuddle and snack time, you certainly get spoiled with kisses and he even feeds you

❀ He hates seeing you overworking and it worries his pure heart 🥺😔

Belphegor

❀ Belphie dislikes that you overwork yourself and he blames it on himself sometimes

❀ He really wants to spend so much time with you before his sin sends him back to dreamland for a few hours

❀ So every time you're overworking he picks you up and pulls you into a warm bath

❀ Its got scented bubbles, enchanted by the Twilight bath bomb

❀ Belphie washes your hair and cuddles you in the water, he loves cuddles no matter where he is

❀ Afterwards, he wraps you in a warm towel, grabs his shirt and pulls it over you for some quality snuggling

❀ Sleeping with you is Belphies favourite part of the day because you're just so soft, like a teddy bear

❀ Occasionally the boy will offer to stay up with you until you finish but ends up falling asleep on your lap

❀ Poor baby wants you to take care of yourself and spend some time with him!!

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league-of-thots · 3 years

Text

YeeHawks

Pairing: Hawks x female reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

Warnings: 18+, alcohol, riding, is cowboy kink a warning?

A/N: not the way y’all wanted me to return, but the way y’all deserve lol. i didnt really have the energy to give it an in depth edit but sometimes it be like that

You wipe the sweat from your brow, the sun is high in the bright, cloudless sky. It means that the heat is just pouring down in waves from the sky though, and you curse the fact that you’d agreed to switch shifts with one of the other farmhands that had asked you the day before. Part of you wants to find Kirishima and reem him out, but you know he’s a sweetheart and wouldn’t have ever done something that would make things harder for you on purpose.

Having said that, imagining giving the man a piece of your mind makes it easier for you to grit your teeth and put your back into heaving large packets of grains into a wheelbarrow for the pigs, so that you wouldn’t have to make as many trips. Instead, it would just be one hellish trip, and a lot less walking in the heat.

Wiping the stray dirt on your pants you sigh. You feel sticky and can feel the grit on your face, on your arms. You must smell something fierce, though you know compared to the pigs you’d be feeding in a few minutes, you smelt like a bed of flowers.

You feel the strain on your back as you finally finish loading the wheelbarrow and start to haul it over to the south side of the Academy farm. The ground is rough, and you feel the jarring of the weight in your shoulders, you’re going to be so sore tomorrow.

After you finish feeding the pigs, you take the supplies back to where they belong and head off to start some of your final tasks of the day. One is milking the cows, and the other being your favourite, plowing some of the dirt to prepare for the new season.

Is it a bit stupidly cliché that you love riding the big tractor while the sun lowers in the sky? Maybe. Is it worth it? Absolutely. It’s one of the best views you’ve seen in your life. Plus, it always helps clear your mind from a day of hard work so that when you enter one of the farmhouses, you’re ready to do whatever else you need to get done.

When you park the tractor back to its spot in the barn, you see a few of the other farmhands talking together. They’re laughing with one another, and you wave to them as you walk out with your overcoat and keys.

You’re in a daze until you realize you’ve somehow already started up a warm shower, standing under the steam to relieve your body from the stress of the day. Your muscles feel so much better with the hot water on them and the steam makes you feel as if you’re in stasis. It’s good because tomorrow is going to be a big day, the August festival, a celebration that the community holds as a sort of last hurrah before the season gets busy once again.

After you’re clean and put together, you head downstairs to have a quick conversation with the couple other farmhands that share the house with you. You need to check if there’s anything else you need to do to help with the final preparations for tomorrow. The four of you had made some homebrew cider to share with the other townspeople, and it tasted quite good, despite being a little heavy on the alcohol. But nobody would be complaining about that, of course.

“Mmm, I think its fine.” Mina says, faced scrunched up in thought. “We did pretty well with it for sure.”

“I agree,” you reply. “Just wanted to make sure I could pass out for the night. I’m fucking dead.” She laughs a little at that.

“Gotta make sure you have the energy for tomorrow. I hear that it’s going to be extra wild.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You know that there’s going to be a horse-ridin’ performance from our sheriff’s department, but there’s also gonna be some cowboys over here to show off some of their skills too.”

You’re slightly intrigued at that. Maybe, you’ll even get to see him again… but, better not get your hopes up too much. Instead, you say, “That would definitely be a treat for all the hard work that this year’s been.”

Mina nods sagely at that. “If I see that blonde, twink of a cowboy I’m goin’ to make him my bitch. Because I deserve it.” That brings a snort out of you, but you pray a little for Denki if you do see him tomorrow, because lord knows he’s going to need it.

The two of you chat for a little while longer before you wish her a good night and head up to get some rest. You do have a busy day to get ready for after all.

You wake up early the next day, ready to quickly get your tasks done so you can let loose with friends and community members that night. You wish that you don’t have to do any work, but you can’t have everything you want.

So, you drag yourself out of bed, muscles tight and body sore, to quickly grab a protein bar and a cleaner pair of working clothes. Your overalls are starting to sport holes and there are some dark stains that just won’t ever come off. You need new ones, you think, as you walk towards the horse pen.

You love the horses, how sweet most of them are and how peaceful it is in their separated area. It’s especially nice in the early morning, with a crisp breeze and the sun peeking out on the horizon. You grab the feed mix that someone had mixed the day before and drag it over to the troughs, where there are already some of the animals waiting for you to arrive. The horses have learned to expect people in the morning, and some of the more assertive ones wait at the fence to be the first ones to get to eat.

While they feed, you prepare the cleaning tools inside the small stable that is connected to the fenced off pen. You take each horse that’s finished eating into the small shelter to clean their hooves, brush out their mane and body, and then your favourite part, riding them for a few laps of the enclosure to make sure they run a bit each day.

It’s while you’re dismounting a cute mare named Starlight when you hear a low whistle from behind you. Someone’s obviously been watching you, and sitting there just outside the enclosure.

“Damn, baby, wonder if you could ride me as good as those horses there.” You feel a vein ticking in your head as you recognize the voice. He’s supposed to be getting ready for the group event, not bothering you while you try to get some fucking work done before you can finally relax and celebrate.

You turn your body and inwardly groan as your suspicions are confirmed, sitting there waiting is a certain cowboy who’s always managed to piss you off greatly every time one of his short visits brings him to the UA farms.

“Hello, Hawks.” You grit your teeth as you move towards the next horse that you’re about to take care of.

“I’m wounded, really, that you don’t sound pleased ta see me, angel.” There’s a satisfied smirk on his face. He really does get off on toying around with you and seeing how much he can piss you off. So, you take a deep breath and calm yourself.

“Now, why would you expect anything different? I haven’t forgotten the last time you came aroun’-“

He waves you off. “You’re bein’ ridiculous. It was a harmless joke.”

“I had to clean the stables for TWO WEEKS.” He just laughs at your anger, totally unphased. It grinds your gears more, the cheeky grin on his face that charms everyone around him, whittling down your intense irritation.

“Well, if anythin’ everyone else certainly enjoyed it.” You grumble out some choice words about him, making sure they’re loud enough for him to here, as you start brushing out the mane of the mare in front of you. He seems pleased with himself, leaning on the fence, head on his hands.

“Do you not have somewhere to be? Something you should be practicing for?” He lazily waves away your attempts to get him away from the work you’d like to finish up.

“Who needs practice? I know exactly what I’ve gotta do so there’s no real reason for me to waste my energy before the actual performance.” He says it with a casual arrogance, that you know comes from years of experience and absolute confidence in his abilities. “The only thing I wanna do right now is try all of the good I know y’all made for the party tonight.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Just because we know each other does not mean that I’m going to just give you the cider meant for the community.” He pouts “You can try it when everyone else does later.”

“Yeah, but we have a special connection.” He grins and you splutter, embarrassed and trying to put away the memories of your bodies pressed together and calloused fingers in your cunt.

“Jesus, Hawks. Shut up.” You look around furtively, checking to see if anyone would’ve overheard.

“You like me loud.” God, his smug look makes you feel hot and bothered.

“Get outta here so I can finish my work, damn it.” He just laughs, turning around before turning back.

“You better save me some of the goodies y’all made up for after the performance.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumble, face flushed and mind now distracted with memories of Hawks’ hands tangled in your hair.

“Well, now. This is delicious.” Your eyes follow his tongue that darts out to lick the drop of the cider that had dripped onto his lips. You’d made sure to fill a plate up with the treats that had been spread around the outdoor tables, lanterns hung up around them not only for ease of finding them, but also to light up the evening. “You helped make this?”

“Yup. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was between never having done it before and Mina’s enthusiasm. God bless Momo, without her we wouldn’t have gotten it done.” He laughs, and you can’t help that you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He was slightly sweaty from his earlier performance, which had been perfectly executed, tank top tucked into worn jeans with a feather-like buckle. His eyes are scanning the crowd around as the two of you lean on the outside of the saloon, the inside being too filled with inebriated or high adults to even try to squeeze into a seat.

“So, how’s life been around here since I last visited?” he asks between bites of some spicey brisket, obviously enjoying it.

“Ah, not much. Just the usual social drama. Actually, Shinsou almost got his dick sliced off by some machinery someone had fucked around with. I swear to god that man has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.”

“Holy shit, sure does sound like it.”

“But yeah, it’s just living day to day for me now. Not much new happens out here, as you very well know.” He shrugs.

“Might as well see. What’s even keeping you here, then?”

“Not everyone needs to be on the road their whole life to be happy, Hawks.”

“I suppose. More cider?”

“Sure.”

You’ve drank way too much, you know that. But the fuzziness in your head just makes you want to keep going, to have fun and make up for all the time you lose working long hours every day.

Besides, Hawks is there beside you, egging you on and matching you drink for drink. His hands always seem to be on your body, either squeezing your ass, wrapped around your shoulders or waist. It makes you feel warm, and you know he’s teasing you, trying to rile you up. He wants to see how bothered he can make you before you snap and drag him off to some private place.

You’re determined to beat him out though. So, you lean into his body space and trace your hands over his arms, the insides of his wrists. You hear his breath hitch, though his attention is kept on whatever conversation is happening in front of you.

Of course, this is Hawks, who has just as much patience as a saint, despite being as far from one as possible. But you’re drunk and turned on and the teasing is too much for you to handle, so when there’s a brief pause in the activity around the two of you, you pull him down so you can whisper in his ear how much you want him.

He grins, “Might as well head back to your place then.” You agree and drag him with you.

The moment you’re in the house, you wrap your arms around his neck so you can bring his lips to yours. Its messy and rushed, but it’s relieving at the same time. The two of you have done this enough in the few times that he passes through that he’s comfortable enough to let you take charge for a bit.

“You can’t even wait ‘til we’re upstairs, sugar?” he chuckles, drawing out each word. You feel the rumble of them, pressed up as you are against his chest.

“Shut up, Hawks.” You grumble, pulling him towards your room if that’s what it’ll take to get his dick out faster.

After rushing in the room, you kick the door shut behind you and immediately get back to kissing him. This time, he makes more of an effort to assert himself, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth. You sigh into him, your hands finding his heated skin beneath his shirt as the pace slows down from the frantic rush it had been. It becomes sensual, and you can feel him getting more aroused as he slowly shifts his hands, starting to grind into you.

You pull away from him, getting some air as you start to take off his shirt. He enthusiastically moves to help and you get to admire his muscles stretch as he does. Obviously, life constantly on the road does wonders for your abs.

“You too, sugar. You’re gonna make me feel underdressed.” He says as he moves to take off the rest of his garments. A laugh slips out of you as you hastily get out of your outfit. When you turn your attention back to him, he’s sitting on the bed and he gestures for you to join him.

When you do, he kisses you again, intensely, as he guides you onto your back. You sigh as he kisses down the side of your jaw to mark your neck, reaching blindly for the lube and condoms beside the bed.

He quickly slides it on and you hear the squelching of lube as he moves in a rush. You don’t have time to make fun of him though, because as soon as he’s finished, he spreads your legs and puts the head of his dick at your entrance.

He groans, closing his eyes as he enters you, and its uncomfortable for a little bit. Soon enough though, you relax, and start to feel great as he moves his hips slowly against you. Hawks fucks deeply, you know this from your times before, but each time it feels just as tantalizing as the last.

“Hawks, please.” You pant, trying to wiggle a little bit just to get some friction, some tiny relief for the edging you’ve been through. He just gives you a smirk, as he keeps you completely locked between him and the mattress. You tense so hard he groans on top of you, but he doesn’t let you move, dick still sitting snug inside your cunt.

“Well, let’s see those barebacking skills you were showin’ off earlier then, hmm?” he says, his voice low and gruff. With ease, he gets the both of you turned around so you’re now sitting with your ass on his thighs, hands clamped tight on your waist keeping you in place while he lays back on the headboard. He nods satisfactorily, looking you up and down with lidded eyes. “Y’know, I like this view much better, baby. What a pretty picture you make right on top of me.” Part of you wants to roll your eyes, but the warmth that his words give you makes the impulse disappear.

“You know, Hawks, in order for me to show you said skills, you’re going to have to let me move.” He laughs as you try and lift yourself against the pressure he’s putting, obviously unable to really do anything. “Seriously, you dick, lemme move.”

“But the face you make when I play these little games with you is so cute, sugar.” He’s got a faux innocent smile across his face and you pout and cross your arms in response. “Okay, okay, I’m done. I promise,” he says, letting off all the pressure, but keeping the two of you connected at the hips.

“Thank you.” you quip, starting a quicker pace than the one Hawks had been setting, gravity still making it just as deep as before.

Being drunk obviously makes Hawks that much louder, or maybe it’s the change up in position, you can’t be sure. But, his praises, his deep moans, the lewd noises from the slapping of your body against his hips, it all makes you feel hot as hell.

You look down, seeing Hawks’ eyes widened and excited, he grins when he notices your look and begins to rock up into you. You throw your head back in as he hits deep within you, crying out his name. Hearing it obviously enthuses him as he grunts in exertion, starting to thrust upwards harder, and you feel your body responding, muscles tightening as you get closer to your climax.

“God, you’re gorgeous like this, y’know?” he gets out through gritted teeth. “I’m not going to be able to last much longer…” He’s panting, fingers digging into your hips sharply, sure to leave marks.

“Please, I wanna cum Hawks!”

“Tell me what you need, sugar, I’ll give it to you.” Hearing that makes you smile, he was always so attentive to your needs.

“Touch me…”

“You gotta tell me where for that.” Even when so close to his climax, somehow, Hawks manages to be cheeky. However, when he’s fucking you this well, it’s much easier to let the teasing roll off your back.

“My clit, Hawks. You do know what that is, right?” He lets out a genuine laugh at that, before sending one hand down towards the bundle of nerves.

It’s enough, between the stimulation and the deep thrusts into your cunt, that you feel yourself tighten and cry out, cumming hard onto his cock. You lean into him, kissing him hard as pleasure courses through your body.

He works you through it, breathing heavily, you can feel his pulse skittering under your hands. You feel him twitch within you, and an idea forms in your mind. Mind wrapped up in pleasure, you act on the thought immediately, bringing your hands to his chest to play with his nipples.

He loves it, making keening noises as you work, legs shaking with effort to stay up and keep pace with him. You let him take the lead and you hear him shout and arch up as you pinch his buds, feeling him release.

He thrusts a couple more times, lazily and slowly, kissing the top of your head as you settle down to lie on his chest for a few minutes.

You breath deeply, content in the moment. You know after you clean up and rest, he’ll be gone on the road once again, so you relax, enjoying the presence.

#jays writes #Smut #hawks x reader

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knylinphd · 4 years

Text

Taking care of their baby alone | Headcanons

gender neutral

-> You’re on a mission and for the first time since the baby’s born, your husband is totally alone for a few days to take care of them.

-> Inosuke Hashibira, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Obanai Iguro.

(C/N) is child’s name and they’re gender neutral.

Inosuke Hashibira

‘’I have to go, Inosuke ! Take care of (C/N) !’’ You said, waving at him. ‘’You’ll be back for tomorrow, right ?’’ He asked. ‘’... No, I’ll be back on Wednesday ?’’ He paused an instant before freezing. ‘’UH ?!’’

Of course Inosuke was the -self-proclaimed- ‘best dad ever’ so he could take care of a baby. But all alone for 4 days ?! He’s a beast ! He’s rough ! He’s gonna break them, he’s gonna hurt them !

He wasn’t mad that you were gone, but he was scared he would hurt his child. They were still a toddler, and you were always here to help him if anything was wrong. What were you thinking ?! Even if you trusted him, he was a wild animal !

Well, too late because now you were gone. Inosuke looked at his child, who was only in a diaper, walking on his 4 limbs all around the house. ‘’Are you a beast too, (C/N) ?’’ He chuckled. And for 2 days, Inosuke had actually managed to take care of them.

Sure, he had some struggle feeding them and bathing them. But he had found a solution to make the baby sleep ; sleeping with them in his futon. You both knew that (C/N) liked to wear their dad’s mask as well, so Inosuke was also using that technique.

And it was cute to see his own kid running around in only a diaper and a mask that was too big for them, until Inosuke heard a disgusting noise and his child staring at him. ‘’Did... did you just throw up in my mask ?!’’ His voice squealed in disbelief.

The man didn’t know much how to clean his mask, so it just remained in some water with soap for the days left. But luckily, Inosuke knew where the medicine was and helped (C/N) heal.

When you were back, Inosuke jumped, hugging your legs. ‘’I’m a horrible dad ! And (C/N) was sick and they threw up in my mask !’’ His voice squealed again, as he was whining. ‘’You sound like Zenitsu, Inosuke.’’ You sighed.

You pointed at your baby that was currently playing with cubes in the living room. ‘’You’re the greatest dad, Inosuke. They’re not sick anymore, right ?’’ Immediately, it made him feel better. ‘’Of course ! I know where the medicine was !’’ You snorted, making your baby notice you.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

‘’(Y/N) ! You can’t leave me alone with (C/N) ! I’m not a responsible person !’’ Zenitsu yelled at you, once you were ready to go on a mission. ‘’Don’t scream, Itsu ! You’re gonna wake them up !’’ Well, too late.

So now you were gone, and even worst, the baby was crying. Zenitsu took them in his arms and hugged them, trying to calm them down. ‘’Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay... daddy is sorry, please stop crying.’’ He just ended up crying himself. ‘’Pleaaaaaase, (C/N) ! I beg you !’’ Surprisingly, they both stopped whining.

The first day was quite chaotic for the man. He had managed to give his child food, take their bath and put them to bed, and they both had only cried 6 times that day. The blonde was relieved, but you were going home in 3 days, still.

Well, it wasn’t going to be that easy, since the next day, (C/N) woke up crying so loud it made Zenitsu immediately run to them, not even thinking something dangerous could happen to him.

And that’s when he saw ; the child had thrown up all over their blanket. ‘’Oh God, I knew it was a bad idea to leave me alone with you ! I made you sick !’’ Thus, Zenitsu was now half-awoken, but crying already. Still, he managed to clean his child and put the sheets in water.

(C/N) spent the whole day in his dad’s arms. ‘’Don’t throw up on me, don’t throw up on me !’’ Zenitsu said, seeing the look on his little kid’s face. His eyes widened and he screeched when he managed to carry the baby at a certain distance so the vomit would avoid him.

He sighed. ‘’Well... I got some on my shoes. But that’s okay.’’ He said, looking at his child ; weirdly, they laughed when they saw their dad staring at them. Luckily for Zenitsu, his kid was only sick for one day.

When you came back home, Zenitsu was playing with (C/N) on his lap, the child laughing at their dad’s haori caressing the top of their head. ‘’See ? I knew I could trust you.’’ You said, sitting next to your husband. ‘’Else you would’ve killed me.’’ He muttered.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi was grumpy that you had left him alone with (C/N) for 4 days. Not because he was mad at you, but because he thought he was a horrible dad and wasn’t able to take care of a baby without you.

Immediately when the baby saw you were going out, they cried. ‘’It’s okay, I’ll be back !’’ You said, using a high voice, while picking the baby up and hugging them. You gave them to Sanemi, who hugged them as well, while they were calming down in his arms.

‘’Okay... so... uh... TV is new here, you like TV, right ? Even if sometimes it’s not much for babies, you like the noises, right ?’’ Sanemi asked, as if a child this young was able to answer him. But the baby did look at his dad’s face, listening.

The day went pretty well until it was time to give the child food. ‘’How does your mom/dad do that ?! Stop moving, (C/N) !’’ Sanemi groaned, irritated. ‘’Da-da.’’ The baby said, faintly, once they saw their dad giving up.

Sanemi’s face lighted up. ‘’Yes ! Yes, I’m daddy ! But dada is okay, I’ll take it !’’ He said, smiling. It made (C/N) giggle, and luckily for the man, it also made them allow him to feed them. Maybe because now he looked nicer.

For the other days, everything went great -only sometimes the baths were something Sanemi was struggling with. (C/N) threw up once because they got excited too much after eating and had cried for the whole hour after that the penultimate day.

When you came back, you could smell ohagi. You walked to the kitchen, seeing Sanemi cook. ‘’It’s not as good as yours is, but I had time to cook.’’ He said. ‘’(C/N) is sleeping. They weren’t actually much difficult to take care of.’’

You chuckled at the proud look on his face. ‘’You used to take care of your brothers and sisters. I told you, you don’t lose those skills.’’ You said, tasting what he was cooking. ‘’I may leave you alone with them often, now.’’ He stopped in his tracks, turning to you. ‘’Please don’t.’’

Obanai Iguro

Obanai knew it was a bad idea to leave him alone (C/N), when, at the very moment you closed the door to go on your mission, the said kid threw up everything he had eaten for the past day.

The man only sighed. ‘’Cool. That is great.’’ He said. The baby had widened eyes, looking at their dad to see his reaction. And as he didn’t smile, (C/N) cried. ‘’Oh no, don’t ! Dad is sorry, he didn’t mean to look angry.’’ Obanai said, picking his child up.

‘’How were you able to throw up all over the floor but not on your clothes, hm ?’’ He asked, poking his child’s cheek, making them giggle. Obanai smiled at the sight, even if his baby couldn’t see it through this bandages.

Obanai cleaned everything, and (C/N) actually liked to take baths, so it was a easy task for their dad. But as they were both sat on the couch watching TV -as it was a brand new object of entertainment- Obanai started to feel irritated.

His kid was pulling on his bandages. He picked them up, sitting them on his lap. ‘’No-oh, that won’t do. We don’t pull on dad’s bandages.’’ But they did it again. ‘’Don’t do that.’’ Obanai said, grumpier. (C/N) stopped a bit so their dad turned back to the TV.

But they pulled once again. ‘’Stop doing that ! Imagine if the bandages fall and you see dad’s scary face ? You’re gonna be afraid of me forever !’’ Seeing his dad’s face, (C/N) pouted.

Obanai sighed, hugging his kid. ‘’I’m sorry ! I knew it was a bad idea to leave you alone with me ! I’m trying, okay ? Here, play with Kaburamaru.’’ He said, giving his kid the snake ; it was the ever first time he had done so, but the snake didn’t look mad.

And maybe it was the right thing to do, as (C/N) spent the remaining days without you playing with Kaburamaru whenever Obanai didn’t know what to do. When you came back, the man pointed at the snake. ‘’I think (C/N) needs a snake too.’’

I know I wanted to publish the Zenitsu smut before buuuut it’s not finished yet, sorry. And it’s been a while I published anything that I’ve written so here is some dads.

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lixis-sin-cauldron · 3 years

Text

The Princess and The Hawk [Hawks | Keigo Takami] Pt. 1

Part Two: Available Here Rating: Explicit 18+ content MINORS DNI. Pairing: Keigo Takami (Hawks) X fem!reader Word Count: 6.9k Kinks and Warnings: Animal Violence, Blood

Summary: A dull routine, every day like the last. You're comfortable, if a little lonely. Who knew a simple walk home could change so much? Can also be read on Ao3 here: The Princess and The Hawk Big thank you to my lovely beta reader @lilleeboi

Passing through the park to get home after work was your main way to de-stress after dealing with customers all day, the time of day left the area fairly empty and the fall air carried the wonderful scents of the season that wafted through the trees and flowers. Normally, it was the most calming part of your day. Normally.

Today, you were startled out of your calm daze by the screeching and hissing of two animals going at each other. Your eyes snapped toward the source of the noise, a twisting ball of fur a few meters ahead, beside the park walkway. Correction: a twisting ball of fur and feathers.

A large grey tabby had somehow been able to snag a very large brown bird that was currently doing its best to fend the feline off as it tried going for the bird’s throat, its talons pushing against the cat’s stomach, a smear of red in the fur where it pressed.

Nature is intense, you thought.

You knew better than to interrupt, they were both wild animals, predators that killed to feed and survive, you had no right to push your human views onto the fight. Wanting to return to your calm mindset, you hurried by the unsettling sight, willing your shaky legs forward. You didn't want to think of the fate that awaited the loser.

As the scuffle disappeared out of sight behind you, you heard a hoarse squawk that felt as if it was directed at you. Involuntarily, you turned to see the cat had gained the upper hand. It had pinned the bird on its stomach and was about to clamp down its jaw on the nape of its neck in a killing blow.

Your eyes met the bird’s, a striking golden-brown, and it seemed to be crying for help with its stare.

Forgoing your previous judgment – unable to ignore the desperate plea – you rushed towards the pair, slipped your purse off, and swung it with full force. It connected cleanly against the tabby just before it was able to land its killing blow. It tumbled backward, and after rolling for a moment, righted itself and turned towards you and its stolen prey. It stared you down, hissing deeply, then wincing. It let loose another deep hiss before retreating.

Heart pounding, you took a deep breath and looked at the bird that you had saved, almost positive it wouldn’t be there – having flown off when it was freed. However, there it remained, resting in the grass, its chest heaving just like yours.

“Oh geez,” Taking to your knees you hovered hands over the wounded avian, unsure of what to do. “Please don’t die.”

The bird shifted, trying to stand and move its wings, as if in response to your plea to prove it was fine. However, as it stretched its left-wing it flinched, wobbled for a moment, and collapsed back to the dirt.

You whimpered, unsure of what to do. It was clearly hurt, if you left it alone there was a good chance it would be attacked again or just die of its wounds anyway.

Ugh, why did I do that? There was no point in intervening, it’s going to die either way.

The bird still heaved, giving you a sideways stare. It seemed to study you with its gaze and tried moving again, letting out a cry as it did. Your heart gave a pang at the sight; it clearly wanted to live. How could you just leave it after stepping in?

“Do-don’t move,” you stuttered, reaching forward, “I’ll bring you to a vet, they’ll help you.”

Surprisingly, the bird gave no resistance to your touch. When you found trouble grasping it, especially while trying not to hurt it in the process, you peeled off your light jacket and gently wrapped the fowl in that. Once sure you had a hold that didn’t cause further damage, you raced off in the direction of the nearest animal clinic you could find.

“He’s pretty beat up, but nothing life-threatening,” The Veterinary nurse explained, softly running a thumb over the bird’s crown, its plumage fluttering at the touch. “We cleaned the cuts and the left-wing has a small hairline fracture. It’s been properly set but will need at least 2 to 3 weeks to fully heal, so we wrapped the wing so it can’t move. You’ll need to-”

“Wait, me? Why do I have to?” you were glad to hear the animal would be okay, but you were alarmed to hear they expect you to take care of it.

They looked at you in surprise, “Isn’t he yours?”

“No!” You waved your hands frantically, “I found it being attacked and just… stepped in. I don’t even know what breed it- err, he is. Let alone how to care for him.”

“That’s surprising, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an exotic bird just randomly being found like that.”

“Exotic?”

“Yes, this handsome man is a Red-Tailed Hawk. They’re a North American bird. For it to be in Japan that means it was brought here and must have an owner, so I just assumed that was you.”

“O-oh.” You can’t say you were that surprised at the revelation, you had never seen a bird that looked like the hawk. A closer examination showed that it wasn’t just brown, but a beautiful mix of dark brown, white, and tan. Along with strikingly red tail feathers that you had been sure at the time was blood.

“This one seems very special too, normally the tail feathers are more of a cinnamon-red.” The nurse provided, seeming to have followed your thought process, “He’s very well cared for and in amazing shape, aside from the scuffle. If he hadn’t been grounded due to the wing, I doubt that cat would have ever touched him or stood a chance if it had been able to.”

“The cat didn’t do that?”

“The fracture is very clean; an animal’s bite would have crushed the bone.”

“Oh, that’s good… I guess?” you studied the hawk, resting in a box filled with a plush towel that the clinic had provided, he was perfectly calm under the expert’s touch. You were sure the calm state was in part of the fact he was full of painkillers at the moment, but you had an urge to follow the example and pet the resting creature yourself. You held back though, instead returning to your original topic, “Uh, as I said, he’s not mine so are… you guys able to take him since he’s a lost pet?”

Their strokes of the feather head ceased, instead rising up to scratch their forehead, “Sometimes we do that, sure, but right now we’re a little full plus it normally best for a bird sanctuary to take them but in this case….”

“In this case…?”

“They’re trained and equipped to handle local wildlife and such. With this being an exotic breed, they wouldn’t take it in due to the trouble it could cause.”

“So… what does that mean for him? You said it would take a few weeks for the wing to heal, so he can’t fly and as a pet, he may not survive even if he could fly.” You had an idea of where the conversation was heading but you really hoped you were wrong.

“There are a few places I could check to see if they could take him in while they searched for the owner, but with how late it is I’d have to wait until tomorrow to contact them and they may not be able to take him right away even if they could…”

You sighed, “Would it be… hard to take care of him for a few days?”

The nurse beamed, happy to hear you volunteering, “Given his condition, no, not really,” They picked up a bag that had been sitting on the table beside the bird’s box and pulled out the contents. “The pain medication would keep him mellow for the most part, so even if he wasn’t such a gentleman,” They preened at the bird, commenting on how composed he had been during the whole ordeal. “You wouldn’t have much trouble handling him. You just need to apply this one orally every twice a day and this one on the cuts—”

You struggled into your apartment, the box in your arms, and your keys fighting for dominance as you unlocked the door. The keys lost and fumbled to the ground as the door teetered open.

“Fuckbucket," you cursed.

Leaving them on the ground, you carried the precious cargo past your couch and to the dining room table at the far edge of the small apartment and set it down as carefully as possible. The hawk had fallen asleep during your travel home and you were very keen to keep it that way.

After ensuring he wasn’t going to wake, you returned to the entrance and retrieved your keys as well as the shopping bag that rested next to the doorway.

While the clinic had been happy to give advice on how to care for the bird, and even charging just the cost of the visit and nothing else – you’d still had to call a ride-share to take the bird home and even stop at a pet store to purchase things to help care for him. Since it wasn’t like you actually owned anything to use while he lived with you.

A big piece of advice to make a safe space for the hawk to rest since you wouldn’t have a cage to place it in, free-roaming was the preferred option if it felt well enough to move around. They also provided a contact line to call if he suddenly became violent. While the wounded wing was wrapped, he couldn’t fly but the talons and beak could still cause damage if you weren’t careful. They would contact you as well once they had a place for him to go while the owner was being looked for.

Stretching with an exhausted sigh, your gaze returned to the box and found the hawk now awake and his head now resting on the edge watching you with glazed eyes.

“Uh, hi,” You blinked, wondering why you had just greeted an animal. Though he definitely didn’t feel like an animal when you locked eyes with him. You had a disconcerting feeling when he looked at you like he was analyzing you.

He let out a weak squawk in reply to the greeting.

“Right…” you decided to just go with it, picking up the purchased items you approached the table cautiously and started setting up an area next to the box with feed and water, “So, you’ll be staying with me for a bit, just while you heal and we find your home.”

He ruffled his feathers as the word ‘home’. You weren’t sure how to take that if it even meant anything to start with.

“So, if you can… I don’t know, not cause too much trouble, that would be great. Think you can do that for me, buddy?” You asked, holding out a hesitant hand to him, curled so the back of your fingers were present.

He stared at the extended appendage and you were sure he was going to bite you, but he leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered, a smile blossoming across your face at the sight. He suddenly seemed a lot less frightening to you; realizing that he was tired and sore, and maybe even thankful to have a safe place after what he had experienced.

He withdrew his touch and curled in the box, head under his free wing and only a moment later, gentle snoring could be heard."

Wish I could fall asleep that fast. You snorted, laughing at the idea of envying a drugged-up fowl.

The concept of sleep did appeal very strongly after the evening you’d had; so, you ate a quick dinner, showered, and slipped into your bed, leaving the door ajar in case you needed to access the living/dining space quickly.

Your oversized t-shirt hung off your shoulder loosely, your underwear peeking out from underneath as your arms stretched above your head while walking into your tiny kitchen. After withdrawing a bottle of water from the fridge, you lazily looked around your home as you sipped it. You sputtered as your eyes fell upon the box resting on the table, coughing harshly as you forced the water from your lungs, having forgotten the previous day’s events in your sleepy state.

The box was tipped over sideways, the towel in a bundle on the table.

“No, no, no,” you chanted, rushing over and looking around for the wounded animal, “Where-” the words caught as the towel squirmed, the dark brown hawk head popping out from beneath it. “Oh, thank god.”

You were wide awake now.

“You scared the living hell out of me, buddy,” you reached forward and ran a knuckle across his crown, enjoying the softness. You leaned over, reaching eye level with him, “You have a nightmare or something?” You cooed.

You noticed his eyes drift, losing connection with yours, and move downwards, his head giving a tilt as they settled. You followed his gaze and realized you were giving the bird a clear view right down your shirt, where you were currently braless. You reacted instantly, straightening yourself and holding the shirt close to your bosom with a flushed face.

It’s a bird! you reminded yourself, He was probably just reacting to the fabric moving. He’s probably hungry. I need to give him his medicine, too.

Calming your nerves, you retrieved the small bag with medication. “Hey, buddy, you probably don’t feel great right? This will help numb that pain. You mind letting me put this in your mouth?” You held a syringe up, filled with a paste, and capped with a rubber tip that you could slide into his beak.

He seemed to glower at the suggestion, and you were starting to dread having to force his beak open when he shoved the towel off his back and stood up wobbling.

“Wow, you’re very clever, aren’t you? ” you exclaimed.

He huffed at the praise, parting his beak marginally to allow the tip to slide in. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, you carefully slid the syringe tip into his mouth and pushed the plunger just enough to provide the proper dose as you had been instructed.

The hawk reacted negatively, chomping his beak and twisting his head, evidently not enjoying the taste of the medicine. He strode over the water bowl resting on the tabletop and dunked his beak into the water, small bubbles rolling the surface as he guzzled down the liquid.

The sight was so shocking, you couldn’t help but start laughing, your chest heaved as you gasped for air between your cackles.

The hawk, having finished his drink, seemed unimpressed with your reaction.

“Oh, come on,” you chided after regaining your composure. “That was hilarious. Geez, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. Thanks for that, buddy.”

He shook, his feathers fluffing, then turned and pushed himself back under the towel, clearly unamused.

“Aw, baby’s embarrassed.” You cooed with another chuckle before returning to the kitchen and fixing yourself some breakfast. Once you’d eaten you returned to him to refill the water bowl he had downed and finally noticed that the bowl with the bird feed had been overturned at some point, most likely when he had flipped the box during the night.

“Can you not make a mess of the apartment?” You nagged, cleaning the mess, and refilling the bowl. He gave no reaction, his bright red tail the only visible part sticking out from under the towel. You gently poked the protruding feathers, feeling him lurch in surprise at the touch, “Hey, make sure you eat, you’ll feel horrible with no food in your stomach.”

The hawk rolled under the towel, sticking his head out to glower at the bowl and then you.

“Someone’s in a foul mood,” You blinked, then grinned. “Pun not intended.”

You could swear he rolled his eyes.

Just as you were about to comment on the action, your phone alarm went off. You groaned, “Time for work,” You studied the bird and the sideways box. “They said free roaming would be best since I don’t have a pen or cage big enough for you…” You shifted a dining room chair so it was angled against the table. “If, uh, you want to get down just use this instead of trying to fly… okay?”

His reply was crawling back under the towel, making sure to be completely hidden this time.

Still talking to a bird.

You grumbled something nonsensical, then returned to your room to change your clothes. Once ready to go, you padded towards your door, pulling your hair into a ponytail and glanced at the lump under the towel, and wondered if you should try and call off instead. You decided against it, knowing there was little you could change by staying home.

“I’ll… be back before you need more meds,” you called out. No reaction. You sighed, wondering why you felt like there would be, and exited your home.

You were more than relieved when you returned home and found it in the same condition you had left it that morning. In fact, you realized as you checked for damages, it seemed as if the bird hadn’t moved the entire time you’d been at work. You trailed over to the table and saw that he was where you had left him, snoozing away under the towel, his beak barely protruding.

“I’m home,” you said softly, running a fingertip over the exposed beak.

He let out a soft cooing sound at the touch, wiggling enough to expose his head and look at you with his intense golden eyes.

“Hey, buddy.”

Another coo with a head tilt so he rested on his cheek as he stared, seeming somewhat dazed.

“You okay?” you asked worriedly, he had been more responsive until now. You were about to call the clinic when you saw that the feed bowl had not been touched at all, no dip in the seed to indicate that he had moved anything within. “You haven’t eaten at all?” you declared, picking up the bowl. “I told you-” you paused and sighed, wondering once again why you spoke to an animal like he understood you.

“Do you not like this brand or blend or something?” you muttered. You pulled out your phone to see what type of bird feed was best for him. You realized something unfortunate. Voles, rats, rabbits… “I bought the wrong type of food.” You groaned. You had been in such a rush to get back to the rideshare you had just grabbed the recommended bag of bird feed, not even thinking to make sure that your new roommate could actually eat it.

You didn’t really have any prey type meat just lying around your kitchen. He needed to eat something.

“Ugh, maybe I can mix some… gravy or something into the seed. Maybe that will work for him until I can get something better.” You left the avian to stride over to the kitchen, opening the fridge in search of an additive to spur the bird’s appetite since, according to Google, he could eat the seed if he had to, but was just choosing not to.

Before you had really started your search the hawk let out a low screech, pulling your attention back to him. Your head snapped over in reaction, surprised to see him standing on the table and eyeballing you, giving a strong feeling of a hunter studying its prey.

“Uh, what’s up, buddy?” you asked nervously.

He shifted his weight between his feet for a few moments before dipping his head down and hooking his beak around the brim of the metal feed bowl. Once gripped, he raised his head, bringing the bowl with and held it in the air for a second while he fought to keep balance at the sudden weight. You were about to call out for him to stop, in case he got hurt, when he thrust his head downwards and released the bowl.

The bowl bounced off the tabletop and tumbled to the floor, spinning. Feed flew all around him, covering the table and floor.

Stunned, you didn’t move, the apartment filled with the sounds of the bowl spinning in place before settling with a dull clunk. The hawk arched his back and let out a defiant squawk at you, finalizing the production you’d just witnessed.

You blinked, processing what had just occurred before standing up, furious, “Are you serious?” you snapped at the proud bird. “You – that – I said don’t make – I don’t even- Okay!” You shouted, unable to process your thoughts, “I get it, you don’t want the damn seed but what the fuck. I have to clean all this up! That- you-”

I’m shouting a bird.

You sighed, cupping your face in your hands and letting out a long groan. What the hell was wrong with this bird, you had never met an animal that was so damn- you didn’t even know how to describe it.

“Let me see what I have,” you hissed at the fowl, wondering if hawk tasted like chicken.

Hm, chicken...

You returned to your excavation of the fridge and found the pack of chicken breasts you had intended to cook the night before when you had been planning to be home earlier and not as tired as you ended up being.

Guess I can make this tonight and share some with him. Not that you found him worthy of this type of treat at the moment.

“Wait… Can hawks eat chicken? Isn’t that like-” your sentence was interrupted by the bird giving a squawk, he was shifting his weight between his feet again but more in an excited dance than a show as before. “What? You like chicken?”

Another squawk.

“Fine.” Ripping the package open, pulling one breast out, and to your cutting board. A few minutes later you set down a bowl of the raw meat in front of him, cut into bite-sized cubes for easier consumption.

He stared at the bowl, suddenly seeming reluctant.

“Oh, what now?” You groaned, pitching your brow.

Fluffing his feathers and looking at you, his gaze shifted to behind you back towards the kitchen.

“What, you want more?”

He huffed and bowed his head, though that lasted only a moment before he held it high again and had a confident look as if having set his mind to something. Wobbling, he padded to the edge of the table and hooked his beak into the dining chair you had set up that morning for him and started climbing down it.

You found the process fascinating, surprised by his sudden burst of energy. Stepping out of the way, you watched as he landed on the tiled floor, starting his way to the kitchen by hopping and tapping along while doing his best to keep balance. He reached the middle of the area and stood in front of the oven. He was panting, having worn himself out with the exercise. However, he wasn’t done, clearly wanting to strike home just what he was thinking, as he bent his head forward and tapped his forehead against the metal appliance, repeating the gesture softly a few times before stopping and resting it there, turning to look at you to ensure you were watching and understood.

“I’m guessing that means you want it cooked.”

The confirmation seemed to be correct, as he gave a weak note in reply and slid to the floor, exhausted by his show; he landed softly on his back, feet in air.

You stepped up to him and bent down, gently brushing the plumage of his stomach, “You are the most spoiled pet I have ever seen. Fine, I’ll cook the damn chicken. Don’t expect anything fancy, though.”

He only let out a long exhale in reply.

You returned the tired bird to the table, grabbed the bowl of chicken cubes, and began once again to prepare the request. A quick check on the phone and you decided to just boil the meat, not adding any spices or extras since that could hurt his stomach. You also did a double-check and removed any excess fat, noting that also wasn’t great for him

While the cubes boiled, you made yourself your own meal, a mouthwatering bowl of katsu over rice.

You set the boiled meat down in front of the starving avian. “Happy?” You sighed, hoping he would finally eat something.

He huffed at the bowl, as if contemplating how to also toss it in a showy fashion, then bent his head and took a cube. He chomped down on it and shivered. Pausing for a moment, he tilted his head in contemplation then bent again to grab another.

“Glad to see it’s good enough for your refined palate.”

Grabbing your own meal, you plopped down at the table opposite the bird and started eating while browsing your phone. You were only a few bites in when you noticed the hawk leaning over you, staring at the bowl.

“Noooo. No!” you pulled the bowl close to your chest, “You have your chicken, this is mine! And fried foods are bad for birds.”

He fluffed, giving you what you could only describe as puppy dog eyes.

How???

You grumbled, “One bite, one!” You pinched a piece of katsu with your chopsticks, making a small bird-sized piece, and lifted the morsel for the bird to take. He did so eagerly, snatching the piece and sliding it down his throat.

He let out a contented coo.

“Glad you like it- No,” you snapped as he started giving the same look once again. “I said one, and I meant it! I’m in charge here, mister!”

He seemed to relent, his shoulders slumping then he tilted his head again, a contemplative look in his eyes.

“Wha- Uh.” Your voice caught as he slipped off the table into your lap and pressed himself into your chest, nuzzling you. You held back a squeal of delight at the surprising cuteness of the hawk while holding your food in the air with one hand. “That’s a dirty move and I refuse-”

He cooed, looking up at you with big eyes.

“One more.”

He gave a rumbling sound of happiness as he downed the next piece, continuing to snuggle you.

You set the bowl down and gave your full attention to the large bird, amazed at how affectionate he was. You ran your fingers through his feathers, finding soft down. You lost yourself to the petting; he seemingly enjoyed the pampering. You were unsure how, but you were now at the injured fowl’s mercy.

Both of you jumped as your phone went off in your pocket, interrupting the cuddle session. Holding him still, you retrieved it and answered quickly.

“Hello?”

“Hi, there! This is y/n?”

“Uh, yeah… this is?”

“I’m calling from the animal clinic! You brought the lovely red-tail hawk in yesterday?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry I didn’t expect you to call so soon!”

“No worries! Hope I’m not bothering. Are you okay to talk?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Great! I wanted to let you know that one of the rescue centers we work with is able to take the darling in. They can have someone swing by ASAP if you like.”

“Oh, already?” you eyed the animal resting in your arm.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, I just- I thought it would take a few days.”

“…would you prefer to have their number? That way when you’re… ready, you can call them, and they can come by?”

You pursed your lips, suddenly unsure of yourself. You were in no position to have a pet, especially a predator… yet you found yourself reluctant to let him go. In the short time he had been there, you had laughed and smiled more than you had for a while. It was a welcome disruption to your dull life.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

They let out a small chuckle, “Sure thing. I’ll let them know. They’ve also posted a bulletin about him, to help track down the owner.”

“Oh, that’s great. I hope they get found, he’s very… special. I’m sure he’s missed.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s doing well! Please feel free to reach out to us or the center if you have any questions or trouble.”

“Will do… thanks.”

Great. Just great. You sighed as you hung up and studied the bird nestled against your breast.

“Welp, I’m crazy. You’re stuck with me for a bit longer, hope you’re okay with that, buddy.”

He nuzzled further into you as if saying thanks for letting him stay.

“Guess if… you’re staying I should give you a name?”

He straightened at that and locked eyes, staring you down fiercely. Clearly, he found the matter very important.

You gave a nervous chuckle, “Don’t have high hopes there, I’m far from great at naming things, bud.” you paused, considering your statement. “Actually, I think I’ve already named you. How does ‘Buddy’ sound?”

He made a disgruntled noise but proceeded to bury himself back into your chest, nuzzling the fabric of your shirt, springing faintly against the fat of your breasts.

“Welp, best you get… Speaking of you getting things, you’re due for your next batch of meds.”

He was less than pleased with the reminder of the foul-tasting substance.

The following morning you woke not to your alarm, but with a start to the sound of someone talking in your living room, the sound seeping in through the ajar door. Your heart raced with panic as you attempted to make sense of the sound. Slipping from the bed and grabbing the wooden bat you kept at your bedside for such events, you approached the door, glancing around the frame to see who dared to enter your abode. Mind whirling, you expected to see masked figures looting your home or-

Buddy! The bird had been asleep on the table when you had gone to bed. What if they hurt him during their looting!

Forgoing your own safety, you rushed out into the open area, only lit by the dim morning sun through the shaded balcony glass door. You reached the couch, brandishing the bat, ready to swing in a moment’s notice. Surveying the room, you found the source of the talking – the television.

Buddy was perched on the couch, the remote next to him, staring at the television. It was on a news channel, going over the latest hero and villain activities.

“What the hell!” you screeched, lowering the bat.

The bird’s head snapped towards you, having not heard your approach. He reacted at your appearance, flapping his free wing and giving a surprised cry.

“You scared the living hell out of me - again! Stop doing that, my heart can only take so much!” You reached for the remote. “How the hell did you even turn that on? I was sure I left it on the ta-” you cut off, reeling your hand back as Buddy jumped atop the device, blocking you from it.

You blinked, confused, “Are… you watching that?”

He squawked in confirmation.

“You are not a normal bird.”

He seemed happy at your realization, fluffing his feathers and stepping off the remote, laying down next to it, and returning his gaze to the screen.

“Whatever, I’m up now. Guess I’ll make breakfast.”

He gave an excited chirp at the suggestion.

“Yeah, yeah. Yours too.”

You joined the fowl on the couch while you ate, giving him another bowl of boiled meat – which he ate disgruntledly.

“I’ll have to swing by the store after work, see how much discount meat I can get you… wonder if the pet store will take back a barely used bag of feed…”

You were already getting used to speaking to the bird, speaking aloud your random thoughts as you went about your morning routine. Cleaning up, giving him his meds, prepping his food and water for while you were gone. You were enjoying the addition he was adding to your day and being able to talk to someone as well – especially since he did provide a type of reply. You enjoyed it so much so that you were reluctant when your alarm for work went off.

“Back to the grind,” you sighed, trudging to your bedroom closet to change out of your nightshirt. “ Was a bit chilly yesterday, should get my spare jacket.” You hadn’t gotten a chance to wash the one from the night you saved Buddy, and you weren’t eager to use a bloody jacket. You spotted the spare folded on the closet shelf, resting under a box.

You pulled the clothing free while doing your best to keep the box in place – your best wasn’t good enough, since just as you were sure it was free, it snagged, and the box joined in the escapade. You tumbled to the ground as the object hit you, its contents partially falling out onto you and the floor.

“Owww,” you whined, rubbing your butt. After regaining yourself, you examined the mess you had created and instantly regretted trying to retrieve the spare jacket, your eyes tearing up at the box’s contents.

It was just a random assortment of objects, all-male ordinated – a razor, a pair of jeans and two t-shirts, a hairbrush, some socks, and other miscellaneous items.

“Dammit…” you mumbled, trying to hold back sobs. With everything that had happened the past two days you had actually forgotten the damn thing was in your closet for the first time in months.

Your self-pity was interrupted as you felt something soft press against your arm. You looked over and saw Buddy standing beside you looking concerned, the sound from the tumble must have drawn him into your room to check on you.

“I’m okay… I’m not crying ‘cause I’m hurt. Promise,” you inhaled deeply, trying to steady your nerves, and started collecting the fallen items back into the box. “It’s a bit silly to cry over.”

He tilted his head in question.

“It’s just some stuff my ex left behind. I should just burn it…” Maybe because you were so used to just saying whatever you wanted to the hawk, you kept following the train wreck of your thoughts, “He cheated on me but somehow worked it to him being the one to break up when I confronted him. I should be glad he’s gone but… here I am, pining over some asshole and his discarded laundry.” Despite your best effort, you started sobbing, “How pathetic am I-”

Buddy pressed into your arm once again, cutting the tirade, and gave a small coo.

You pulled the bird into your arms, holding him close and pressing your face into him, your tears rolling over the water-proof feathers. You stayed like that for a time, buddy not even trying to pull from your embrace. You let him slip from you, your sobs dying away. You felt tired and wanted to crawl back in bed, but work was waiting.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, rubbing Buddy’s cheek. You finished gathering the items, stood, and stared at the box.

Just throw it away.

Your grip trembled as you held it.

Get rid of it.

You slid the box back onto the shelf.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you murmured, glancing away from the concerned hawk.

Time slipped by after that, a new routine being built around your new roommate. You had moments of conflict due to his strange personality, but overall, you enjoyed having him in your home. Even with the dip into your finances that he caused, between meat and clinic visits. Another interesting addition to your day was how your mornings always had a little surprise from him. Mainly him doing something to jolt you awake since he seemed to be a very early riser.

This morning, however, had one of your preferred surprises, your eyelids felt heavy as your brain booted up and registered the light snoring that was taking place next to you. You blinked, looking around for the source, and found the fowl resting next to you, on his back feet in the air and head lolling, on an open pillow.

Giving a sheepish grin, you watched him for a bit, seeing him twitch in his sleep. You had come to terms with his abnormal behavior, your research into the breed showing he did not act like other red-tails or even just other birds in general.

“Buddy,” you purred, reaching over and shaking a talon lightly.

His eyes popped open and then blinked slowly, fighting away his own sleepiness. He turned over and quivered, his feathers fluffing and head jerking.

“Morning.” You giggled, enjoying the show, before turning in the bed and burying your face into the pillow, reluctant to get up. Looking back at him, you saw him observing you intently. Just another thing you’d gotten used to, the way he seemed to examine you up and down with a focused gaze randomly.

You gave a smirk, peering back through your messy hair before pushing yourself up to sit on your knees and stretching your arms up above your head, your joints popping satisfactorily. As always with your nightshirt, it raised with the motion, exposing your thighs to view.

Buddy rolled as you stretched, your movement causing him to be displaced from his resting place, his head landing softly against those thighs as they cushioned the tumble.

“That wasn’t convincing at all,” you laughed, tugging the shirt to the side to lock eyes with the endearing avian. He was very affectionate, finding any way he found to cuddle with you when possible. With a yawn, you checked your phone for the time and saw a reminder on the lock screen. “Oh right! We better get ready; we have the vet appointment today. Your wing should be all healed up!”

As always, the hawk gave a human-like reaction, quickly straightening himself and giving an excited shriek at the announcement.

Buddy wouldn’t stop extending his freed wing as he rested on the perch at the front desk while you signed the paperwork for the visit.

“Calm down, you,” you laughed, glad to see him so happy.

“So, you really plan to keep him?” The nurse asked, grinning at the sight of the overjoyed bird as well.

“I mean… his owner hasn’t been found and he’s not a wild bird. I’ve gotten used to him, so it just seemed best?”

“I think it’s great. He’s lucky you found him. Uh, do you have a leash?”

Buddy flapped and shrieked in disapproval at the remark.

“I saw bird leashes were a thing, but he’s so well behaved I wasn’t sure I should get one?”

“I get your reasoning, but he could fly off, he’s already gotten lost and in trouble once.”

“That’s true…” you looked Buddy over, seeing his hunched shoulders, “Do I need to leash you, bud?”

With a quick flap, he glided off the perch and onto your shoulder, being careful not to cut you with his talons as he steadied himself.

“Wow, you have him wrapped around your finger.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” You decided, scratching Buddy’s chin.

Finishing off the paperwork you exited the clinic, the hawk still perched on your shoulder, sure you were an interesting sight for those you passed. You walked with an eye on your phone, swiping through various avian products.

“We should get you proper stuff, perches, and such, for the apartment. We’ve been making do with the makeshift setup, but now that you’re staying we should-”

He shifted harshly, drawing your attention to him. He was staring intensely down the street, where a store had various televisions on display in a window, an assortment of shows airing with captions turning on. You sighed and approached the display, knowing the bird’s inclination for news. Sure enough, his preferred channel was airing on one of the displays.

“Just for a minute, okay?” you stated, returning to your shopping as he stared at the moving pictures. You kept your word and started to move shortly after, but Buddy gave a loud shriek in protest when you did so, his eyes still focused on the display. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?” You looked at the screen, finally paying attention to the content.

“-the villain has been in a coma since the intense battle with Hawks, so he has yet to be able to answer any questioning as to the whereabouts of the missing number two hero and the other heroes that disappeared-”

You let out a surprised hiss as you felt Buddy’s talons dig into your shoulder, it didn’t hurt thanks to the padding of your coat, but it caught you off guard after how careful he always was. However, before you could reprimand the action, he launched himself and flapped his wings quickly, taking off into the air.

You stared at the hawk as he soared, at first impressed by the way he moved so easily after just getting the wrapping removed, then distraught as you saw him continue to fly away.

“…Buddy?”

——Tag List ——

(Please check this post if you would like to be included!)

@thisisthehardestthing @cheeriecherry @mindninjax

#hawks #keigo takami #hawks bnha #hawks x reader #mha #bnha #part one #tw: animal violence #tw: blood #just story in this one #the smut will come I promise #my sister is a bird person #she helped me with this #humor #the princess and the hawk

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urban-homesteading · 3 years

Photo

How to make money from a Mini Farm: a series

Due to the popularity of my post on how to make money from your mini farm, I’ve decided to go point by point and expand on each one.

Raising Mealworms

Mealworms are the larvae of mealworm beetles. Many animals, such as chickens, wild birds, frogs, and reptiles, readily and happily eat these little bugs. You can grow them as a food source for your pet, to attract birds to your feeder, or to sell for profit. Mealworms are low cost, only need a small space, and are easy to maintain animal that can be grown in any size apartment.

How to get started

Get a small plastic storage bin (such as one for shoes that you can poke holes in the top) or a container sold at the pet store with a snap on vented lid to use as a container for your mealworm colony. It should be a container that light goes through but will hold the substrate and not allow the worms to escape.

Place one to two inches of bran, oats, or a mixture of the two in the bottom of the container. This will be your mealworm's bedding and give them something to eat and burrow in.

Place half of a raw potato on the substrate or in a shallow dish for the mealworms to eat and drink from.

Purchase about two dozen mealworms from the pet or bait store to use as your starter colony. You can also buy online.

Place the mealworms in the prepared container and make sure it stays relatively warm. If it is winter and you are worried about the container getting too cold you can use an inexpensive heating pad placed under the container to keep it warm. If the mealworms get too cold their development will stop (this is why they are stored in the refrigerator at the pet store).

Replace the potato every couple of days (do not let it get moldy) so your mealworms have fresh food and water.

Since the mealworms are already in the larval stage they should pupate in about three weeks. Two weeks after they pupate the mealworm beetles should emerge.

The mealworm beetles will lay very small eggs which are difficult to see. When these eggs hatch the new larvae are also very small.

The mealworm beetles will die while the larvae grow and the life cycle is repeated.

After one life cycle, the mealworm colony should be well established.

Once your mealworms are established, offer a variety of vegetables and fruit (such as carrots, orange slices, and leafy greens) to the colony to increase the nutritional value of the mealworms. I find that my mealworms were quite happy on table scraps.

Add bran or oats as necessary to maintain the substrate level. Clean and change out the substrate as needed to keep it clean and fresh but wait until the colony is well-established. Eggs and tiny larvae may be lost if you clean the substrate early on and the life cycle will be interrupted. Once you have a large supply of mealworms, the dirty substrate can be filtered out and the mealworms can be saved to put in the clean substrate. Do not allow mold to grow on the food or substrate.

If you have too many mealworms simply place the whole container in the fridge to temporarily stop their development and simply rewarm it to room temperature when you need them to continue to reproduce.

Selling your mealworms

Once your colony is established, you can sell the worms one of two ways. One, you can dry them and sell them by the pound, or two, you can sell them live. Drying mealworms is simple. Select the all worms you wish to dry and place them in a container in the freezer for 24 hours. Within one hour, they will fall asleep, and by 24 hours they will be die.

Spread them on baking sheet and bake at 80 degrees for 2-3 hours. Package and sell by the pound or by the number of worms. Privately owned pet stores, wild bird stores, feed stores, and bait shops are all places to call to see if they are interested in selling your mealworms. Stores have an image to maintain, so make sure that you have a tidy package with clearly marked contents. I always encourage all of you to use as little plastic as possible so if you are selling to a store and you are a small business, I recommend using glass jars with your personalized sticker on them. I find that posting on Craigslist or Facebook Marketplace asking for free, cleaned jars results in dozens and dozens of jars from people who have had spaghetti sauce that week. Buy nothing and Zero Waste groups are particularly helpful in your area. Mealworms can also be sold through postings on Craiglist (in the pet or farm/garden section), Facebook Marketplace posts, or flyers posted at local pet stores or anywhere else bird or animal lovers are to be found.

If selling live mealworms, count out your worms, place into the container with clean substrate, and place into the fridge until they are ready to be delivered to where ever they are going next (whether that be a bait shop or directly to the buyer). Mealworms can be kept in the refrigerator for up to two weeks with very little maintenance. After two weeks, the mealworms should be removed from the refrigerator, and a small amount of water and a piece of vegetable should be added to the top of the bedding. Allow the mealworms to stay at room temperature for about 24 hours. This will allow them enough time to “wake up” and become more active so that they can consume food and water. After the 24 hours have passed, remove any remaining food and place the worms back in the refrigerator. Repeat this process on a two week schedule.

For storing live mealworms, this company makes cardboard boxes that are 100% recycled and are unlined with plastic or wax so they can easily be composted. However, my research has suggested that these containers will not work for dried mealworms as dried worms have fats within them and they can go rancid if exposed to circulating air for long periods of time.

#tw bugs #bugs #insects #mealworms #raising mealworms #birds #birding #homestead #chickens #feed

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whumpzone · 3 years

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Can you write a story where Rowe's cleaning in the attic/closet/basement and he accidentally bumps into a shelf and made a heavy box fall on him and knock him out and Tomas comes running to check on him only to see Rowe unconscious on the ground and takes him back to his room and takes care of him, while Rowe is slowly waking up and apologizing and crying profusely and Tomas is comforting him while dabbing his face gently with a wet wash cloth.

Ohh! Now I've got whumperflies!

thank you for this lovely prompt, anon! it’s not 100% the same, but i really hope you like it!

“Now, you’re sure you won’t get scared? Because I could- I could go up. Instead.” Master Tomas sounded wholly unconvincing. Rowe nodded, and gave him a small smile. They both knew that the attic contained spiders.

“I won’t get scared, Master, I promise,” he said softly.

Master exhaled and put a hand to his heart. “Thank you, Rowe. I know you’re the man for the job.”

Rowe felt his cheeks flush. I’m the man for the job. He held onto the thin ladder and climbed up.

The attic was cramped, barely waist height, but Rowe was small, so he wasn’t overly bothered. The tapes were apparently in a box marked, well, VHS TAPES, and Master hadn’t even asked if Rowe would know how to read it. He just trusted him. It made Rowe feel very proud, although he was cautious to admit that even to himself.

He looked around, shining the small torch Master had dug out for him, and the clutter comforted him. It was empty darkness he hated. Cold, empty nothingness, with no guarantee that his owner would ever come back, would even remember to feed him, slowly losing track of the days and being too dehydrated to cry-

Rowe shook his head and pressed on, shuffling easily along on his hands and knees. He was good at this. A spider hung from an impressive web above him. Beyond it, sandwiched between half a dozen other boxes, sat the one he was looking for. Hm.

Holding the torch between his teeth, he decided to try and wriggle it out. The boxes above it looked heavy, and if he could avoid shifting them all, he would. Besides, this way Master wouldn’t be kept waiting so long. The box was wedged in tightly, so Rowe pulled on it harder, and harder-

. . .

Tomas, who had been idling on his phone, heard the unmistakeable sound of Rowe crying out, and a sickening thud.

“Rowe, pal? Rowe?” he called, not waiting for an answer before going up. He could see the torch, rolling across the dusty floor, Rowe’s body illuminated in the cold light. “Rowe?”

No answer. Tomas kept his eyes firmly on him as he made his way over; it would be too easy to follow the cobwebs up to the roof beams and see something he really didn’t want to see.

Rowe had found the tapes, then. Tomas knew Rowe enough to know that, even with him being knocked out, he’d feel ten times worse knowing he’d failed his task. So he took the one he wanted and tucked it into his back pocket, as he took Rowe under the armpits and hauled him from the attic.

Lying Rowe down on his bed, Tomas softly carded his fingers through his hair, looking for any terrible injuries, but it seemed Rowe had only suffered a bump to the head. He was already starting to stir, so Tomas nipped to the bathroom quickly to get a wet cloth- the best remedy for just about any injury, according to his mother.

. . .

Master Tomas was the first thing Rowe saw when he opened his eyes. In his drowsy, half-awake state, his mind went straight to survival mode. His Master was wasting time on him. He was lying down, when he had chores to do. He couldn’t quite think straight.

The feeling of a damp cloth pressed against his temple momentarily soothed him, but, but it was more kindness! Kindness that he would have to earn. Weakly, he tried to sit up, but his body ignored him.

“Mm, ‘m sorry,” he gasped. Master looked at him with a frown.

“Welcome back to reality, pal. What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m w-w-wasting your time, I should- I should get up,” he tried again in vain to move, but Master’s firm hand against his sternum kept him still.

“No, stay and lie down, it’s okay,” Master ordered, and Rowe went limp as he submitted. He was stretched out on his- the bed Master let him sleep on. His head was fuzzy. He felt vulnerable, and exposed, and even though all Master Tomas was doing was dabbing his forehead and telling him to stay still, Rowe still felt like a trapped animal.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” he babbled. “P-please forgive me, Master. Please.”

“It’s okay, it’s all okay,” Master said, looking deeply in Rowe’s eyes. Rowe realised he was looking back- making eye contact with Master!- far too late. He quickly lowered his eyes and hoped Master wouldn’t punish him for that, too.

“You had to- had to come and get m-me.”

“Pssh, I was fine. I was brave,” Master flashed him a playful grin. There didn’t… look like there was any malice to it. “It’s you who’s had an accident. You poor thing, Rowe.”

Why did Master care? Rowe couldn’t understand it. “I’m f-f-fine, I can still work, can still b-be useful. Please d-don’t trouble yourself over your Pet, Master.”

Master’s frown deepened. Oh god- was Rowe even allowed to speak? He could hardly remember. Master lifted a hand to Rowe’s face, and he flinched away unforgivably. All that Master did, though, was tap his forehead lightly. “You sure your brain didn’t get a bit scrambled, pal? I’m just making sure your little head’s okay.”

“Hh, n-no, please M-Master, please I h-h-haven’t earned it…”

“Okay, I think you’re a bit confused. You haven’t talked about earning things for a while now. Do you remember my name, pal?”

“Master- Master- Master Tomas.” The words didn’t want to come out.

“Okay, that’s good. Do you know where you are?”

“Home, I’m h-home, Master.”

Master’s face softened as he continued to dab at Rowe’s forehead. “Well, that’s definitely true. I’ll get you a glass of water, I think.”

Master returned with the glass, insisting he had earned it, and held Rowe’s head up as he drank. His hand felt sure against the top of his spine.

A few minutes passed, and Rowe’s head began clearing up. Master never made him earn his gentle treatment, really, did he? Rowe felt ashamed for forgetting so easily. He was allowed to make eye contact. He was allowed to speak. Master wasn’t quick to anger. He was kind, unreasonably so but still, and his kindness was always real. As the confusion left him, so did the fear. It was quite amazing, to feel it melt away so quickly. He was lying down, and Master Tomas was perched halfway down the bed, holding the half-drank glass of water. Rowe looked at him and smiled.

“Master, I tried- I thought I could get the box out, but some of the ones on top of it fell onto me, so I-“

“You didn’t manage to get this?” Master smiled, holding up the tape. “I nabbed it while I was gallantly rescuing you.”

“Th-thank you,” Rowe said, almost breathlessly. “That’s great, thank you M-Master, thank you.”

Master reached over and ruffled his hair, and this time Rowe flinched only a tiny bit. “You were still the man for the job, Rowe. You found them. Well done.”

“What’s on the tape, Master?”

“Me as a little kid. I thought it might make for an entertaining watch. I had even more impressive curls as a toddler, you know.”

Nothing sounded better. Rowe could see what it was like to grow up as a person. What a normal family was like. The thought of sitting on the sofa and watching it with Master made him feel normal, too.

tagging since i’ve judged this long enough to deserve it: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lave-e @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @thekatastrophic @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump

#pet whump #tomas and rowe #asks #anon #aka rowe has the worlds fastest healing concussion lol

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

Text

Protection Chapter 4

Summary: Mia is deeply hurt by August, only she is the one with a slight problem now: her heater is broken.

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 3.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I hope everyone had a lovely few days! please let me know what you think about this chapter. I love to read about it 🤗

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

That Saturday I had my second to last game and I scored not one, not two, but three goals. Some even said I might’ve set a record for the fastest going goals in the history of female soccer. That might have something to do with me being still so damn mad at August.

I mean, I know I said I was going to accept his hot and cold attitude, since there would be a kind man underneath that harsh exterior, but after being hurt like that, I just figured that I couldn’t accept it anymore. He was harsh and borderline mean to me.

I don’t understand him anymore, but what I do know is that him being like that to me, is probably not going to change. Maybe I’m being a baby and totally overreacting, but I decided that it is best for my own wellbeing if I not talk to him anymore and so far, it’s working. Despite August always being home, I only bumped into him once and that for being next door neighbors.

Yesterday we both stepped into the elevator, but since I know him a bit, I was just sure he wouldn’t start a conversation with me.

I was right. However, I had to go against all my own impulses and you can almost say reflexes to not start a conversation with him.

August told me he doesn’t do apologies, so I shouldn’t be expecting one from him.

When I wake up that Sunday, a day after my game, I’m hit with a painful cold. Normally, Bobo sleeps on top of my blankets, but now he is securely curled up underneath them. Why is it this cold in here? I slip on some thick socks (that feels like two large ice cubs) and rush to my thermostat.

Only to discover it’s not working?!

‘Shit, shit, no,’ I whine. I really can’t use that right now. I mean, I can’t ever use it, but right now I really don’t want it. I check the card that hangs next to the thermostat and it informs me I can call the mechanic at nine on a Sunday.

It’s seven now, which is absolutely fantastic.

While my body is slowly freezing up and my nipples are the evidence of the cold temperatures (I’m really happy I’m all by myself now), I go to the bathroom to check if my shower can provide me with some warmish water. I grab the shower head and I wait until the water turns even slightly warm.

It doesn’t.

Great, so even a shower can’t keep me warm. I desperately need a shower, my sore muscles need some relaxation. I turn off the water and I walk to my bedroom. After I put on a bra and some more layers, I jump around, desperately trying to keep myself warm, but it’s useless. It’s what? Minus a billion degrees in here? I’m never gonna warm up, even if I wanted to.

I look over at the wall, the one that separates my apartment from August’s. I could do it, you know. I could just go over there and demand I can stay over at his place. I mean, that’s what he does and considers normal.

I can do that too. I can demand some shelter for a few moments. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Right?

Nah, it’s not. I’m too damn proud to do such thing.

The two hours go by really slow, but at least I got myself a good work out in, because I was desperately trying to keep warm. and I curled up underneath my blankets, but it was of no use. When I finally can call the mechanic, the shithead on the other line told me he couldn’t come in until three in the afternoon. Six whole hours in this freezing cold? That is something I simply cannot do. I want a hot shower and just chill in my sweats all day. I deserve that after last night’s game.

I grab some clothes, my shampoo and skincare products and pick up Bobo, who feels like a hot water bottle, but is not enough to keep me warm. I close the door of my apartment and with my elbow I knock on August’s door. It takes awhile before he opens the door, but when he does so, he frowns and looks visibly confused.

Probably because I’m holding Bobo and have a big bag with me.

‘What do you want?’

Always the gentleman. I should’ve thought this through, but I think the frostbite has reached my brain before I could do so. ‘I have a problem,’ I say. ‘My heater is broken and the mechanic comes at three.’

He leans against the doorframe. August looks different and I think it’s because of the grey sweatpants. I never really pecked him for a guy who wore something like that, matched with a thick hoodie. ‘Okay?’

Demand shelter, Mia, you can do it. ‘You should give me shelter,’ I say. Okay, that was’t exactly what I was aiming for, but it’s a start. ‘I cannot handle six hours in the freezing cold and I also don’t have hot water, so I can’t shower. Before you ask: ‘Why would I do this?’, remember, I did the same for you and I paid for the court side tickets.’

‘Tickets you bought before you even knew you were going to take me with you,’ he retorts. He sighs deeply. ‘Does the animal has to come as well?’

‘The animal is very sweet,’ I tell him and almost on cue Bobo starts to hiss. ‘Okay, maybe not to you, but please… Just let me stay here for six hours. If you do so, I might forgive you for being a total ass to me last Wednesday.’

‘I wasn’t an ass to you,’ he says, but when I cock my eyebrow, he looks kinda caught. ‘Okay, I maybe was an ass to you sometimes.’

‘All the time,’ I interrupt in.

‘Not the entire time. Just the ending,’ he tells me. ‘Okay, okay, please, come in, Mia and the creepy cat. Make yourself at home.’

At first I’m afraid he is being sarcastic (I mean, we’re talking about August Walker and it didn’t sound like it came from the heart), but when he actually steps aside, I realize he is serious. ‘Thank you,’ I say with a smile and I walk into his pretty boring apartment. I’ll let it slide for now, because he just moved in. I place Bobo on the ground and he struts through the apartment, avoiding August. Being here feels like I’m being wrapped up in a warm blanket.

August walks passed me to the kitchen and I decide to walk after him. ‘Are we going to talk about Wednesday?’ I ask him.

‘No.’

Figured. ‘Come on, August. Just… We should talk about this, to clear the air.’

‘I don’t want to talk.’ He places his hands on the counter and I don’t know where I’ve got the guts from, but I dare to step closer to him.

‘I bet there was a reason why you were like that this Wednesday,’ I continue. ‘You can talk to me, you know?’

‘I don’t want to talk about my feelings, especially not with you,’ he barks out.

Weirdly enough, this doesn’t hurt me, because I think he doesn’t mean it. ‘August,’ I whisper, ‘please. I just want to know why you continue to hurt me, when I’m nothing but nice to you, minus maybe the pedophile comment.

He clenches his jaw. ‘You want coffee?’

Why is he ignoring me? ‘Sure,’ I say, because I can actually use a cup. ‘Can’t you just try to be nice to me, without it being sandwiched in between insults? I’m not forcing you to go skipping with me in a park and make flower crowns with me, while feeding the ducks. I’m just asking you to cut the insulting crap and be nice to me.’

August actually turns his back to me and I let out a sigh. What was I even thinking?

‘I can try.’

Did I just hear that correctly? ‘What?’ I ask. ‘You can try?’

‘I can.’ He pours in some coffee for me and hands me a mug.

‘Thank you,’ I say with a gentle smile. I carefully place my hand on his underarm and he looks up, nearly snapping his neck in the process. ‘I really want to get to know you,’ I say to him in a soft tone. ‘But only if you allow it, okay?’

He nods. ‘Yes, okay,’ he says.

‘You want to get to know me?’ I ask with a chuckle.

‘Weirdly enough: yes.’

I roll my eyes. ‘August.’

‘Wait, wait, wait, I can do better,’ he says. ‘Yes, I want to get to know you too.’ He cocks an eyebrow. ‘Better?’

I laugh. ‘Yes, much better.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Since August’s shower provides me with hot water, I might overdo it by standing underneath the warm water for at least half an hour. Yes, I’m that type of guest. I quickly dry my hair, put on some moisturizer and get dressed, before I walk to the living room.

‘Did you clean up in here?’ I ask August, noticing the place is a whole lot cleaner than it was before I took my shower. ‘Are you trying to impress me, August?’

He scoffs, placing his feet on the coffee table. He looks like a mocking kindergartner, it’s almost endearing.

‘Where is Bobo?’ I ask him, when I sat down next to him and look around.

‘In my bed,’ August answers with a shrug.

That caught me a bit off guard. My cat is in his bed? ‘And you don’t mind?’ I ask. ‘Or are you too afraid to shoo him away?’

He doesn’t want to—I can see it in his eyes—but he smiles. ‘Maybe a bit of both. Besides, he was hissing at me, so I was too afraid to get him off the bed.’

I chuckle. I shiver a bit, as I’m slowly losing the warmth from the shower. August stands up from the couch and wanders through the place. Only to come back with a blanket. He drapes it over me and I’m genuinely surprised. ‘What is this?’ I ask him, though I know exactly what this is.

‘You were cold,’ he says, ‘so I got you a blanket.’

I feel my cheeks heating up. ‘You can be very nice, did you know that?’

August looks at me for a few milliseconds, before he averts his gaze. I realize this may have been too much of a compliment. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘You want to watch some tv?’

‘Sure.’ He grabs the remote and turns on his television.

Was August watching the sports channel?

The only channel that broadcasts the women’s national football league?

‘Did you watch the game last night?’ I ask him.

‘I might’ve,’ he admits, his cheeks a little red. Oh my, my brooding neighbor August Walker is blushing!

‘Next week I have my last game, before the winter break. You want to watch? It’s free and I can arrange a nice spot for you. Special VIP treatment.’

‘Really?’ he asks. ‘Even after I was an absolute asshole to you?’

It’s nice of him to acknowledge that. ‘Even after that.’

‘I would like that.’

Are we having a moment now or is this me hallucinating? August looks into my eyes and doesn’t turn away. His light orbs are obviously hiding so much and it breaks my heart to think he has been through so much. ‘What are you thinking about?’

August shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

‘Liar.’

He smiles. It makes him look beautiful, approachable and absolutely breathtaking. ‘I was thinking about giving you a compliment about the game last night and whether or not I should add an insult to it.’

I laugh. ‘Well, you can ditch the insult. I’m not sure if I can take it right now.’

‘You are by far the best player on your team,’ he says. ‘Maybe this is an insult to your teammates, but I think you would be the only female player that could actually beat the best male players.’

I bite my bottom lip, as I feel my stomach twists and turns. ‘That’s really sweet,’ I admit. ‘I bet you don’t want me to give you a hug as a thank you, right?’

August leans back in the couch. ‘Why would you want to hug me?’

That’s not a no, which is an improvement. ‘I barely got hugs when I grew up,’ I say. ‘I don’t know if you are aware of my sob worthy backstory. It’s pretty much all over the internet.’

‘I might’ve looked up some bits, he admits in all honesty, which I appreciate. ‘Lots of foster families.’

I nod. ‘I mean, it was mostly me. The families were nice enough, but I was simply afraid, because I knew that there was a chance I would leave again. What if I attached, you know? Saying goodbye would be harder.’

He nods, almost as if he understands.

‘However, my soccer team was pretty much the same team for years. I grew attached to them and hugs were totally normal. It was a way of communicating, really. Since that moment, I appreciate them. It’s a way to let someone know I appreciate them. If that makes sense.’

August nods again. ‘Back when I grew up, I never got hugs.’

For some reason, I see a young and pouty August in front of my eyes. Desperate for some human contact, only to be deprived by it.

‘I just never was in a setting where hugs were acceptable. Not when I was younger, not now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize for stuff you had nothing to do with,’ he says and he sounds like the same old August I have come to know. He lets out a deep sigh, one that nearly sounds like a growl. ‘You can give me a hug.’

‘That doesn’t sound very sincere.’

‘I am very sincere,’ he says. ‘I mean it.’

This is adorable, I think to myself. ‘Well, you have to know that once I hug you, you are in it for the real deal. I may or may not hug you every chance I see you.’

August laughs. ‘Then I just have to live with that.’

I push the blankets off of me, before I nearly jump him. I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and while he is slightly awkward, he places his hands on my back and actually engages in the hug. ‘You are very huggable,’ I say.

‘You too.’

I pull my face back, so I can look at him. ‘Remember,’ I say, ‘you can put your walls down around me. I would even really like that, to get to know you.’

August moistens his lips, before he whispers: ‘I would like that as well.’

◎ ◎ ◎

After the mechanic fixed my heater and left, August and I ordered pizza. Now, we sit on my couch and watch some YouTube compilation of me playing soccer. That wasn’t even my idea.

It was August’s idea.

Ever since our hug, I notice he is trying his best to be nice and to me, that’s what matters the most. While I don’t understand his struggle, I do appreciate the effort.

I just shouldn’t be attracted to someone who hurt me twice within a week of knowing me, but I can’t help but feel a little something deep inside of me, when I look at August sitting this relaxed on my couch.

‘You want my crusts?’ I ask him, holding out my plate to him.

‘Of course.’

I can’t help but scoot a little closer to him, so I can hand him the plate a bit better. Maybe it’s because I’m touch starved, maybe it’s because I never had this much male attention (insults or not) before. It’s just really nice being around a man, especially August. I didn’t want to admit it, but I enjoyed every moment of him being overprotective of me in the stadium and how he wiped my hands clean in the restaurant.

That never happened to me before.

‘You want my last piece?’ August asks me, holding up his slice.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, already taking it out of his hands.

‘Postive.’

Before I take a bite, I say: ‘You can have this crust again, though.’

He smiles. ‘I was hoping for it.’

We eat in silence, staring at the television, but I’m not even paying attention. My mind is full of thoughts about August and the questions I want to ask later on when we get to know one another better. ‘Here is my crust,’ I say.

‘You know, Mia, you eat shockingly fast.’

I scoff. ‘I do not.’

‘You totally do,’ he argues. ‘And you are also the world’s messiest eater. I don’t know how you do it, but you got sauce on your forehead.’ He leans over to my coffee table and grabs some napkins. ‘Sit still, will you.’

‘I am sitting still!’

‘You’re not. You are fidgety.’

I roll my eyes. ‘First I’m a fast eater, then a messy one and I don’t sit still. I was about to offer you some dessert, but now I’m not so sure, since you are being so damn mean to me right now.’

‘I’m not mean to you,’ he says, his voice all of the sudden a lot lower. He places his hand in the back of my neck, before gently cleaning the corners of my mouth and my forehead, letting out a tsk in a process. August is so close right now, I’m nearly going cross eyed. His rough thumb slowly caresses the delicate skin in my neck. I can feel his warm breath against my lips.

‘You want dessert?’ I ask him after I cleared my throat. ‘I have some chocolate pudding. We could eat that.’

August nods. ‘Yeah, I would like that,’ he says, letting me go. ‘Let me help you.’ He stands up as well, holding the plates in his hands. Together we walk to my kitchen and I start preparing the pudding for the both of us.

However, I still feel his hand in my neck. Back when I was in high school in the Netherlands, I was never really in favor of the boys. Besides, I moved a lot and I was pretty much invisible. There was this one time, where it took the teacher almost three weeks to notice me.

Being touched like that, it is a rarity in my dating history. Sure, I’ve had a few kisses, but other than that, I never engaged in anything. Now I’m twenty five and I want it.

So badly.

I look up, only to discover August was already looking at me. ‘What?’ I ask him.

He shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’

We eat the pudding in silence and when it is eight ‘o clock, he decides to leave. We may barely spoken to one another and when we did, it was pretty shallow, really. But I do feel like I got to know August better and he is willing to open himself up to me.

I walk him to the door and I say: ‘Are you willing to hug me goodbye?’

‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow, Mia,’ he says. ‘It’s not like I’m leaving anytime soon.’ Then he seems to realize what he is missing out on. While he rolls his eyes, I spot a grin on his face and he spreads his arms. ‘Come here.’

I let out an excited squeal and I jump up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He laughs and wraps one arm around my waist, holding me against him.

‘You happy now?’ he asks.

I pull back my face. ‘Delighted, August Walker.’

He places me back on the ground. ‘See you tomorrow?’

‘You bet. Now you’ve hugged me. let me in your place and allowed Bobo in your bed, I think I’m gonna be over all the time.’

◎ ◎ ◎

The entire Monday morning I spend baking. I want to thank August for yesterday and I figured to see if the saying “nothing says loving like something from the oven” is true. I think it might be. I know I always appreciated when mister Toriello made me a pie.

I walk out of my apartment to knock on his door, only to discover his door is slightly ajar. I push it open and peek inside. ‘August?’ I ask with the steaming pie still in my hands. I walk inside, but he isn’t here. Maybe he is out and didn’t close the door right, however that seems so out of character. Leaving his door open like that… That’s weird.

I place the pie on his kitchen island and find a piece of paper to write something on it.

I place the note next to plate and I want to leave the apartment, but my eyes fall on something. It’s one of those yellowish files, you see in programs like NCIS. I know you shouldn’t peek in other peoples stuff and usually I don’t do such thing.

However I can’t help it right now, as the file is like a magnet that pulls me in.

I pull out the file and it confirms my suspicions. That was my name indeed I saw from afar and this file has my DMV photo attached to it with a paperclip.

Why does August have this? I mean, I don’t even know what he does for a living, but why would he have this? What kind of job would require all this information about me?

Oh my, is he a stalker? I know that’s not a profession, but still…

I open the file and see an entire timeline of my life. The car accident, transcripts of my interviews with specialists, my football career. He is even up to date on my Instagram account… I even see he figured out the name of the man who was gawking at me during the game.

What is this?

‘What are you doing here?’ I hear August’s voice behind me. I look over my shoulder and see him standing in the doorway. He looks tired and a bit sweaty. What has he been doing? ‘What do you have there?’

I turn around, as I hold up the yellow folder. ‘Is there a specific reason you have my entire life compiled in one file?’

#august walker #august walker x ofc #august walker x asian ofc #august walker x oc #august walker x mia makaruku #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x mia makaruku #august walker x soccer player #mia makaruku #asian ofc #fic: protection

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namjisoongi · 2 years

Text

‘Homecoming’ (J-Hope ff) (part 4)

📍Plot: A day spent with aunt Lisa, Tiana, and Via.

As I was asleep, I felt something lightly shake my shoulders. I kind of got startled once I woke up to see aunt Lisa standing in front of me, “Sorry to wake you up, but I’m just letting you know that I’m getting some groceries from the store. You want anything on my way back home?” She asks, I sat up on the bed to stretch, “Can I have a Lemon Tea and a King Car, if you don’t mind?” I answered, “Alright, I’ll see you later, then.” She says, walking out of the room. “Okay.” I answer, getting out of bed and did my usual morning routine and headed out to the living room to see Tiana and Via awake as well. “Good morning, Adi.” I hear Via greet me, “Good morning girls.” I greet back at them. “You girls want some breakfast?” I ask, “No thanks, we already ate right after mom cooked. There’s more rice, eggs and bacon on the stove.” Via answers, “Okay.” I say, heading to the kitchen to make my own plate. “What are we watching now?” I ask as I sat down on the couch next to them. “We’re watching ‘Ron’s Gone Wrong’ on HBO.” Tia answers, I took a few bites of my food as we all continue to watch the movie.

(45 minutes later)

“This movie kind of reminds me of Big Hero Six.” I commented on the movie. “That’s what we were thinking before you came in.” Tiana says as I burped loudly out of nowhere. “Excuse me.” I say. Once I finished eating my breakfast, I digested on the couch while watching the ending of ‘Ron’s Gone Wrong’ with the girls before I start heading to the kitchen to clean my dishes. “Adi, I have a quick question.” Via says as she chews on another grape, “Shoot.” I say, taking a small sip of my water, “Have you ever thought of sticking around a little longer?” She asks, I set down my cup on the table in front of me, “Here? On Guam?” I ask, thinking of the context of her question, she nods. “I was just wondering. I mean, I know that you have so much to do back to where you’re living now, but it would be cool if you stayed.” Via tells me, “Hmm…” I say as I thought of an answer to come with, I leaned in a little bit, “Between me and you two…” I start to answer, “I thought of sticking around here a little longer as well. I mean, I could take more classes online, help you guys out with the house, and maybe find a job that would be suitable for me.” I tell them.

(10 minutes later)

After a few episodes of watching Full House, I got up from the couch to the kitchen and cleaned all of my dishes. “Girls, I’m home.” I hear aunt Lisa call out. They all walked into the kitchen to put all the groceries away, I helped out after I was done cleaning the kitchen. As I finished helping them out with the groceries, I went to use the bathroom. I closed and locked the door behind me, and sat on the toilet to do my business. I wiped myself after I finished my business, flushed the toilet, cleaned my hands and headed out of the bathroom. I looked around the house to check on the girls before I looked for aunt Lisa, I checked outside the garage to see that she’s feeding the animals in her little farm. “Hey, aunt Lisa. Um, I wanted to talk to you about something.” I say as I stood by the pig fence, “Sure. What’s up?” She asks as I watched her feed the pigs. “So, I was thinking… maybe, I should stay with you guys for a while longer.” I answer, waiting for her to respond. “Is this what you want? I mean, I don’t want to hold you back.” Aunt Lisa asks as she walks up to a different fence to feed the chickens and goats.

“I’ve been thinking about it with the girls and I decided that I would like to stay. I can talk to my school for me to take all of my classes online, I can start looking for a job and to be able to help you guys with rent, the meals, everything. I’m also willing to drop Tiana and Via off to school and to pick them up afterwards every day of the week.” I answer. “If you really want to stay and help us out, I wouldn’t mind that at all, but I’m going to set some house rules for you.” She says, setting down the stuff for the animals to eat and sat on a rocking chair.

“#1) Going to church on Sunday’s are mandatory. #2) While I’m still at work, you’re in charge of making the meals. #3) Keep the house clean, feed the animals, etc. #4) You are responsible to take the girls to and from school. If they are late or absent from school, it’s going to be on all three of you. Unless it’s an emergency. #5) Via and Tiana has soccer practice every day of the week right after school. #6) Always wear something decent while family and friends are over. #7) Treat others how you want to be treated. #8) No slamming doors when you are angry. #9) There is no maid in this house. If you make a mess, clean it up yourself. #10) Respect each other in this house. And lastly, #11) If you ever want to ask me to let you go hang out somewhere with some friends, be sure to be back no later than 2:00 a.m, got it?” Aunt Lisa says, “Got it.” I answered, memorizing the rules in my head. I went to a spot around the house that was quiet, and dialed my school to let them know I’m going to be on Guam a little longer. After a while of convincing them, I am able to take online courses.

I walked back into the house and went back into the living room again. “I’m so bored.�� Via says, “Same.” Tiana says in agreement. “I have an idea.” I say as they both turned their attention to me. “Why don’t we as aunt Lisa if we could go for a drive somewhere?” I added. “Sure, why not?” Tiana says, we all walked out to the garage where aunt Lisa was still placed. “Mom, is it alright if Adi takes us out for a drive?” Via asks her, “Sure, but where are you all going?” She asks as she moves back and forth on the rocking chair. “I was thinking if we would look around the mall and maybe get some ice cream after.” I answered, she takes out the car keys from her pocket and hands it to me. “Be safe and be back in two hours.” She tells us. “We will. See you later mom.” Tiana and Via says before running to see who gets shotgun. I started the car and drove Tiana and Via to the Micronesian Mall to look around, and probably buy a few things. We made it to the mall, parked somewhere in the parking lot and started heading inside. We worked our way around the first floor before heading to the other stores on the second floor. “Let’s go check out what’s showing in the movie theater.” Tiana says and we followed her lead on the escalator to the second floor. We scoped through the movies with upcoming ones coming soon, and we decided to just look somewhere else. I noticed a Bestseller book shop a few feet away from the movie theater. “Hey, let’s go check in there.” I pointed to the shop. As we looked through each and every aisle of books, my eyes were set on some books. I decided what book I wanted to buy first, but I ended up buying all the books I thought would be interesting. After we looked inside the book store, we looked around the shops and bought some new outfits from half of the clothing stores. As the time went by, we all started walking back to the parking lot with some stuff and started driving back home.

I parked, and turned off the car by the garage. I helped the girls carry some of their stuff to the house. “Mom, we’re home.” Via calls out once we entered the house. We all put our stuff in the room, and tried on all the outfits we bought. “What you think of this outfit?” Via asks, wearing a baby blue sweater and pants, “Very blue.” Tiana comments. “Come on, I’m serious.” She says, “It’s cute…” She says as Via gives her a look, feeling a ‘but..’ coming up, “but it’s still very blue.” Tiana finishes. “Okay, you’re done. Get out.” Via says, throwing a pillow at Tiana’s direction. “This is my room too, so I’m going to have to say ‘No, thanks.’ because I’m not leaving.” Tiana says back.

(20 minutes later)

We hear a knock on the door, “Want to go out for dinner?” Aunt Lisa asks, “Okay.” We all agreed. “Clean your room first, it’s kind of a mess.” She says, Tiana playfully puts her hands up in defense, “Woah, there, mom. You need to relax.” She says. “You little shits.” Aunt Lisa says, laughing as she walks out. We all folded our new outfits and neatly organized it in the closets and started making our way to aunt Lisa sitting on the living room couch, who is almost finished reading her book. “You girls ready?” Aunt Lisa asked, putting her book down on the couch. “Yes.” We all say in unison. “Okay, let’s go.” She says, getting off the couch, taking her wallet and keys from the the table in front of her. We all parked in front of the King’s restaurant across the Guam Premium Outlet and Ruby Tuesday on Tamuning area, and waited inside by the front door and waited for us to be seated. “Hafa Adai.” A waitress greets us, “Table for how many?” The waitress asks, “4, please.” Aunt Lisa answers, “Right this way.” The waitress says, getting 4 menus and led us to an available table booth. “Thank you.” We all thanked, “No problem.” The waitress says before walking away to tend other costumers. I scanned through the menu and decided on ordering the rib-eye steak.

(5 minutes later)

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asks, holding onto a pen and a little paper pad to write on. “I would like to an iced tea with a rib-eye steak, well done, with a side order of rice and some mashed potatoes.” I ordered. “Alright.” The waitress says, writing down my order. “I would like to have some water and coffee with the Chamorro sausage & eggs.” Aunt Lisa orders as the waitress writes it down. “I’m going to have the grilled salmon with some iced tea.” Tiana orders, “I’m going to have the same thing, too.” Via orders the same. “Is that all?” The waitress asks, “That’s all, for now. Thank you.” Aunt Lisa says, passing the menus back to the waitress.

(45 minutes later)

We all got our meals we ordered, prayed and started eating. “Can I have some of your mashed potatoes?” Via asks, “I could even trade you for some of my salmon.” She points to her grilled salmon. “Via, stop bother Adi and eat your food.” Aunt Lisa scolds. “It’s alright aunt Lisa. Here you go, Vi.” I say as I scooped some of the potatoes into her plate. “Thank you.” She thanks as she cuts half of the salmon and puts it on my plate. “Thanks.” I thanked her back.

(30 minutes later)

We all finished eating our meals, ‘I’m so full.’ I thought to myself. I wiped my mouth and got up to go pay for the dinner. “I’m gonna be right back.” I say, picking up the bill and walking up to where I have to pay. “Hi. I’m here to pay for mine and my family’s meal.” I say, giving them the bill with two $100 dollar bills. “You can keep the change.” I say as I walked to the bathroom to use the toilet and cleaned myself up. As I got out of the bathroom, I notice Daniel sitting by the window with a couple of people 5 tables in front of where I stood. I took a detour from him seeing me walk past him and left the restaurant with my family. “Today was fun.” Via says as we walked back into aunt Lisa’s car. I hear a sound coming from my phone, notifying that I got a message. I checked to see that Daniel’s name appeared on iMessage on my lock screen. As I looked at Daniel’s message, I saw that I still had mine and his picture together saved as my lock screen background, forgetting to change it. I went to the wallpaper on my settings and looked it one last time before removing it. I opened up his message to see a whole paragraph. ‘I should probably read this later.’ I thought to myself.

“Let’s ask some random questions ‘cause I’m bored.” Tiana says randomly. “Ooh, I wanna start asking first.” Via says, “If you had to choose between watching any movie or show of your choice, but it has to be muted without subtitles. Or…. only being able to watch something in a different language and have the subtitles be in that language. What would you choose?” Via asks, “I would choose to watch something on mute with no subtitles so I could try to understand what’s going on.” I answer. “Man, imagine someone walks in on you laughing at the TV with no sound on.” Tiana says, laughing. “I would be kinda embarrassed.” I answered, “I wouldn’t.” Tiana comments, “You wouldn’t?” Via asks her, “Don’t look so surprised, you know that I’m weird with my answers.” Tiana answers back, “True.” Via says.

(15 minutes later)

We all started walking back into the house. I went in the kitchen to get some water to drink, and I sat on the chair to check the message from Daniel.

Dani: Hey, I saw you leaving King’s with your family. I wanted to talk to you, but I completely understand that you don’t want to speak to me anymore. I also sant to say that I’m really sorry for everything from yesterday. I hope we get to work things out with our relationship sometime in the future because I know deep down in my heart that I still love you. 8:21 PM

I read his message, and decided to leave it until I felt like messaging back. I finished the rest of my water, washed it and went into the living room where Tiana and Via were watching an interview on TV. “What’s showing?” I asked as I sat on the couch next to Via. “We’re watching some BTS interviews on YouTube.” Tiana says and I nodded. One guy caught my attention, I looked at him for a few minutes to try and think of where I’ve seen him from. ‘Why does he look so familiar?’ I thought to myself, but I decided to forget about it since I get a migraine trying to remember something right now.

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claybefree · 3 years

Text

A Letter to Josh Poteat

To be honest, I don’t know why I’m writing you this. It should have been the art I made for my ex-wife Mary in 1995, that she gave back to me in 2008 after I left her, that I later put in the trash. The art you told me recently got you working with shellac. It should be that I’m giving you, instead of this depressing thing about how I haven’t spoken with the oldest of my children in almost nine months, and the younger not since two Christmases ago.

I guess because when we talked about it before, I can’t remember exactly, maybe you asked in passing, “How’s the kids?” and I didn’t have an answer at the time. Maybe because I think you’ll understand me, like you always did. I haven’t been sleeping again lately, and this is when my mind wanders to the man I read about who died, trapped in a cave, but I don’t want to tell you about him. It’s too awful. If I find my mind lingering on him, I get seized by a whole body panic and I have to get up.

When I first got sober and couldn’t sleep, I went to war nightly with God. My mind was a scorched battlefield, blackened, shelled earth churned from trenches to craters. These days it resembles Zone Rogue in France, given back to nature and forbidden, saturated with ordnance, hundred year old arsenic lingering in craters. The toxic woods, wild and hoary, haunted now by deer and wild boar, trenches filled in with vines.

There is this vision I carry, not quite of myself- An old man alone in a mouldering trailer in the woods, bitter, childless and insane. No doubt, you have known such men. When I first got sober, he figured heavily in my mind- I considered this an alcoholic death even if I managed to stay clean.

It’s cold mornings like these- when I’m up early to feed the yowling cats, but again not quite early enough to manage to write, I wonder if perhaps he’s already arrived. I get on my worn out coat hanging by the leaky back door I haven’t fixed yet and head out into the frozen mud to free the chickens from their coop. The cracked tile floating underfoot like a shit-covered mosaic, and I remember to grab the screwdriver. I’m not using it to kill anyone, it’s to prize the eight little half-domes of ice from cups of their watering bucket. You know how this works. I always figured that, being a country-boy, you grew up with the same tales of horrors perpetrated against these birds, or else, like me, witnessed them firsthand.

Summer gets up and I finish my coffee with her as she tapes up my sprained hand. I try to get out the door before her kids wake. To facilitate quiet conversations that have a better chance of happening if I’m not around.

Pointing the truck toward Southside, it’s crossing the Powhite bridge where it really starts to bother me. Likely because it’s this point on the other side of the bridge, I’m only a mile away from their house. I ignore the river, bloated and steel grey, I’m looking for the nameless creek that empties into it there. I’m sure you know it, completely fabricated, it passes under Forest Hill and the train tracks. It’s cold outside the cab of my truck, but I’m not fooled by the last groan of winter. Studying the woods alongside the road, accessible as they aren’t yet burdened but the weight of all that green, I’m not sure what I'm looking for. Lost children perhaps. The sandy stretch where it emerges from snaking around behind the toll station is lined there with birches, flaking and slender, and shouldered with granite as it runs fast from a glut of late March thaw.

I’ve been going this way for a little over a month, filling a friend’s garage with sawdust from fabricating casework for bookshelves, paying particular attention to whatever happens to be going on with the creek as it seems to determine the flavor of grief for that week. Throughout the winter It’s been ever present, with me to the point I feel like there's something wrong, like a vitamin supplement I'm not taking.

Even though it’s been a string of bad days, the garage is warm enough, and I’ve been doing this work long enough I can rip down material on the table saw letting sadness wash over me without worry of losing a finger. I pay special attention to the music I listen to, so that I don’t have to take time and fall apart. At the end of the day I’ll sweep the dust-pile under the saw into a bucket for the chickens. There’s a ruined tire from the Harley I keep filled for them to bathe in. Which reminds me I haven’t told you about Greg the Bastard.

When Summer brought them home a year ago as chicks, they were unsexed, and as they grew, we inadvertently wound up with two roosters. Even though Greg is much bigger, he’s still number two and it’s made him skittish and unpredictable. Fierce Greg the Magnificent, Hen Raping Greg. He charges the dog as well as the kids now, and he’s even started to buck up on me. He stalks the yard like boys and men you and I have both known all our lives- insecure, large and dangerous. He doesn’t scare me, I’m more afraid the day will come when I will have to kill this animal.

In my twenties, Liz King, who you might know, got me a job after school let out with a woman I won’t name here. Another artist, she lived in an old farmhouse down Jeff Davis Highway and had been sexually assaulted by a man there. My job was to help powder and paint the place in order to put it on the market as she didn’t feel safe there anymore. We painted the whole inside. Flying the back roads in her pick-up to some Paint store way out Hull street, she told me how the man had befriended her dogs beforehand and how he threatened to kill her if she looked at him. I don’t remember asking her about it, just the image of her long legs in cut-off shorts clutching and shifting the small truck all over Southside. I made it most mornings, except after getting home late from a Rancid show in Hampton, I was too hungover and didn’t get to her place til well after noon. She was gone, but had worked the whole morning by herself. Later that day, when I called Liz to tell her how I fucked up, she fired me over the phone.

I bring all this up because she owned a lone rooster named Ajax, who hated me. Specializing in ambush tactics, I wasn’t safe anywhere in the yard from Ajax. The lady usually escorted me in from the gate, but heading out to the shed was dangerous. I can still feel him on the backs of my bare legs. Once, while rolling the living room ceiling and overwhelmed by the fumes of oil based primer, I stepped out on the front porch to dry heave a minute and catch my breath. Ajax heard and came stalking around the corner. Incapacitated, I cussed him, but head lowered, he came for me, creeping up the steps one terrible talon at time.

Later I made a six foot tall portrait of Ajax as best I could remember him. Crimson comb like a child’s depiction of fire out of control, waddles surrounding the beak blazing and reckless. The emerald of the sickle feathers a cyclone of green. Hock, shank and spur a series of harsh, black lines. Very Twombly-esque, it’s still hanging in my dad’s office. Based on this one hangover, I went on to make work for the next ten years depicting the Battle of Troy as a series of cock-fights. Achilles the Terrible dragging Man-killing Hector through the streets of Troy. That sort of thing. The drawing I made Mary came from that run.

I go home by way of the Huguenot bridge, because the Nickel bridge takes me directly in front of the house where my children live, which no matter how I’m doing, always threatens to cave my head in. If I go that way, I always think about stopping, and kneeling outside in the cold, perfect grass, with the thought if I wait long enough they might come out to see me.

I know it’s merely grief, the same garden variety of depression, that Chris Cornell said in an interview once was no less dangerous and could just as easily land a man on the end of a rope.

But that is not my way. I’ll drive home to Summer and her kids, help with dinner, watch TV and bed by ten thirty. Regardless. And if I find myself lying awake and the void comes, I won’t scream into it like the old days, I’ll sing to it. I don’t know why, maybe it’s a lament. Maybe I think my children will walk out of the darkness and into my arms.

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bisou-doux · 3 years

Text

The Starving Games ft. Freddie Weasel: AKA Pt. 1 of my Hunger Games x Harry Potter crossover series (OC x Fred Weasley)

Warnings (None of these are really graphic, but feel free not to read if any of these things make you uncomfortable!!): Blood, knives, knife wound, character death(s), severe injury mention (lost limbs), dead animal mention?? (a rat)

This is the first fic I’ve ever written! I got the idea from a post I saw from @wand3ringr0s3 Comments and criticism are GREATLY appreciated and it’d be really cool to get some feedback on my writing style!!

a/n: Also if I do write more, this is gonna be an enemies to allies to lovers situation bc I <3 angst

Tagging my mutuals: @ourloveisforthelovely @darthwheezely @amrtxntia @anchoeritic @kellsslut @whizboingies @beiahadid

Darkness. Pure black. I hear noises coming from somewhere. Muffled. Echoing through the endless void around me. The noises become louder. Someone is talking. The more I listen, the louder and clearer they get. Clear enough that I can almost make out the words. Suddenly, everything goes deafeningly quiet. My ears start ringing. But then, a single voice echoes through the silence, “Seph?”. I recognize it immediately. “Maeve?” I call out. “Seph? Is that you?” she responds, her voice shaky with fear. “Yes, yes, Maeve, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I don’t know.” she responds, panic rising in her voice. “Seph, I’m scared.”

“I know. I know, kiddo,” I swallow hard, “Hey. Hey, listen, I’m gonna find you, okay? Just stay calm.”

My heart is racing. I look around for some sort of clue, but nothing but complete darkness surrounds me. I tentatively reach my hand out in front of me. My fingertips graze something. Something cold. I take a step forward and reach out again. My hand finds what feels like a thin chain. I roll it around in my fingers before pulling down on it. The space is immediately flooded with blinding white light. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness. I’m at home; a tiny one room flat that I share with my mother, sister, and our cat. Except it’s empty- no furniture, not even a door. I see my sister standing a few feet in front of me, her hands bound together by a thick rope. “Maeve!” I rush towards her. “Seph!” she cries. As I reach out to hug her I’m pushed back by an invisible force. I look up and there she is- standing inside a giant glass dome. I take a few steps back, trying to register what I’m seeing.

“Shall we draw the names?” I whip my head around to see a woman in a magenta frock standing on the other side of the room. Her dress is covered in so many frills and flounces that she takes up half the flat. On her head is a ridiculous blonde wig that must add at least two feet to her height. Her face is covered entirely in white powder, with her cheeks overly rouged, and her top lip painted magenta to match the dress. She looks like a very posh clown.

“I-I’m sorry what?”

She laughs airily, “The names, darling. Surely you remembered?”

“Remember what?”

She tsked then pulled out two smaller versions of the glass dome from the frills at the front of her dress. They each had a small slip of paper in them. “Go on. Pick one.” Her voice was incredibly high-pitched, and she spoke with a capitol accent. I stepped towards her and hesitantly reached into the bowl in her right hand. I unfolded the slip of paper, ‘Maeve Whitlock’. I stared at the name in confusion.

“I don’t understand.”

“Will you take her fate as your own?”

“What do you mean? What fate?”

The woman let out another laugh, this one high and cold, it echoed around the entire room and caused the floor to shake. Suddenly, I heard Maeve call out to me, “SEPH!” I looked back to where she was in the dome. There was a dark, shadowy figure standing behind her, holding a knife to her neck. Her hands and feet were bound to a small wooden chair, and her mouth was now gagged with a dishcloth. I ran towards the dome, panic rising further in my chest. “MAEVE!” I shouted desperately. She looked at me fearfully, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks. I banged and kicked and rammed my body at the glass so hard, I should’ve shattered something. But it was no use. I looked back to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. The shadowy figure stood still, holding the knife to my sister’s neck.

“LET GO OF HER YOU FREAK!” I cried, banging my fists against the dome. Maeve was panicking now, her chest rising and falling rapidly, tears running down her face, her muffled pleas penetrating through the glass. “MAEVE.” I cried out; my voice cracked as the salty tears streamed down my cheeks. But I was too late. The dark figure suddenly slashed the knife across her throat, her cries stopped and she slumped down into her seat, eyes still half open, blood now seeping into her blouse. “NO!” I screamed, sinking down to the ground. The glass squeaked as my hands dragged down over the exterior. I looked back up towards the shadowy figure, only to see it was no longer there. In its place I saw myself, a satisfied smile on my face. I heard the clownish woman’s disembodied laugh echo through the flat, “What a pity,” the voice said, “you could’ve saved her! But now, I’m afraid, you must face the consequences of your actions.” The clone slowly raised the hand still holding the knife, and pointed directly at me. Suddenly, I felt the cool touch of metal against my throat. The other me winked, and I felt the blade drag deep across my neck. I started to choke, the blood pooling into my airways. I instinctively brought my hand up to the wound. My vision started turning black around the edges. I looked down to see the front of my dress already soaked in red. The last thing I saw was my own hand, holding the knife, droplets of blood falling steadily from the tip of the blade. Then, everything went dark.

My eyes shot open. All I saw was fur, and something was blocking my breathing. I sat up quickly, and the ball of fluff leapt off my face. The cat looked up at me from his new place on my lap- those big amber eyes practically staring into my soul- and meowed loudly. I sighed in annoyance. “Stupid cat.” I grumbled as I lifted him up and let him jump to the floor. I rubbed my eyes and tried to slow my racing heartbeat. My body was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. I looked down at the bed to see my sister still sleeping soundly beside me. I took a deep, shaky breath and stroked the top of her head, moving away some of the stray hairs lying across her face. I glanced over at the digital clock next to me, SUNDAY: JULY 4. 8:26 AM. Today was Reaping Day; no wonder I had that horrible nightmare. This would be my 4th year participating in the drawing, it was Maeve’s first. How unlucky it was that her twelfth birthday had only been three days prior. If she’d just been born a few days later, she could’ve been spared for another year.

I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My mother was already awake, sewing some buttons back onto Maeve’s school shirt. “Hi, mom.”

“Hi, sweetie. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, just now.” I yawned.

“Is Maeve still asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 8:30. Should I wake her up?”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighed, “let her sleep some more. I’ll wake her up soon.” She held up the shirt to examine her work, “Still needs a few more stitches…” She held the needle between her teeth and reached down to her sewing basket to grab another spool of thread. I looked down as I felt the cat’s bushy tail brush past my ankles. I knelt down and scratched behind his ears.

“Did you feed Tulip yet?” I asked. The fluffy, tricolor, flat-faced cat was now sitting at my feet, purring contentedly.

“Didn’t have to; he caught his own breakfast. A huge rat, which he so lovingly dropped on my pillow this morning.” My mother replied.

I stifled a laugh.

“Since you’re already up, go ahead and shower. I’ve laid out your clothes for you on the kitchen table, so when you’re done, just change into them and come back here so I can do your hair. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She smiled at me then went back to her work. I grabbed some soap and a clean towel from the small shelf near the entrance and walked out. “Make sure you don’t use up all the hot water!” she called out as I closed the door behind me. “Don’t worry, I won’t!”.

We didn’t have our own bathroom- there was one toilet and one shower per floor, which could be shared by anywhere from 5 to 20 people. There were 5 apartments on each of the 4 floors- all one room- with one bed, a stove, a sink, a small table and chairs, and some shelves for storage. Each apartment had a heater and air conditioner, but they were never guaranteed to work when you needed them. Sometimes only one side of the building would have heating, or only certain floors had AC, or only specific apartments. Often, the whole building wouldn’t have either for days at a time. The same thing happened with the water and electricity. You could never fully rely on any of the appliances being in working order. As a result, we shared a lot with other apartments. If someone’s stove wasn’t working, they could just knock on a neighbor’s door and use theirs. If only one apartment on our floor had heating during the winter, there were no objections when everyone else would come over and make themselves at home. It made it feel like we were all one family, and it was customary to refer to many of your neighbors as your aunt or uncle. This was common throughout the District, as almost everyone aside from the mayor and peacekeepers lived in small, rundown tenements, expanding outwards from the city center, which was home to the Justice building. Here, in District 8, we produce textiles. There are 6 factories in total; one of which is entirely dedicated to making peacekeeper uniforms. We typically start in the factories at 14, splitting the day between school and work. We aren’t assigned specific jobs until we turn 18. Until then, those in charge of production make requests for certain numbers of workers, and we go wherever we’re needed. Once we finish school, we’re assigned permanent job positions based on both our aptitude tests and our performances in various factory tasks. The better you do on the aptitude test, the better (or at least safer) your job will be. Those with the highest scores tend to be assigned as desk jockeys- where the risk of dying on the job is fairly low. Those with the lowest scores are sent to work in the most dangerous parts of the factories; you can always tell who works there because chances are, they’ve lost some part of their limbs...or face...or they’re, you know, missing a hand...Then there’s those whose scores fall somewhere in the middle; if they have a specific skill, like baking, or perhaps healing, they’re assigned a job based on that. The rest are assigned mid-level factory jobs, which were still dangerous, but the chances of getting to keep all your fingers were significantly higher! (But not guaranteed).

When I turned on the shower, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water was delightfully warm. It took everything in me not to keep standing there, enjoying the warmth, until the water would turn cold. I shivered as I stepped out of the shower and quickly wrapped my towel around me. I walked swiftly down the hall and flung open the door to the apartment. I grabbed my outfit from the kitchen table. A white trapeze-line dress ending an inch or so above my knees, long billowy sleeves pulled tight at the wrists, and a mock turtleneck with tiny ruffles adorning the edge. My shoes sat on the floor next to it; dark blue suede ankle-boots with small square heels.They were a birthday present from my mother; most definitely from the black market. I got dressed and pulled up a stool in front of my mother’s chair. She combed through my curls as gently as she could, but I still winced when she pulled too hard at a knot. She braided four small plaits at the front and sides of my hair, pulling them into two larger braids that she twisted together and pinned to the back of my head. She handed me the mirror. I looked into it and smiled, “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” I turned around and hugged her tightly. She smelled of soap and clean linen, and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on- all I knew was that it was comforting and warm. I held on a little longer than usual. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She brought her hand up and gently stroked the back of my head. We both knew what could happen today...I tried my best not to think about it. Maeve soon came back from the shower and changed into a mod-style purple dress and black mary janes. My mother braided her hair in a similar style to mine, adding a small flower clip at the side. She looked us once over, nodded, then stood at the mirror and added a few pins to secure her own hairstyle. She sighed, “Ready?”

“Yeah.” “Yeah.” my sister and I said in unison.

My mother chuckled lightly as we stepped through the threshold.

We walked the few blocks over to the underground and boarded the train headed to the Justice building. The train car was packed. Everyone was dressed in their best (and most colorful) outfit. These types of clothes were only worn on special occasions; those above working age wore grey coveralls to work and school, and something drab and ill-fitting otherwise. As we exited the train car, I kept a tight grip on Maeve’s hand. As we emerged from the underground, our eyes were bombarded with light, and I squinted as the brightness flooded my vision. When my eyes adjusted, I spotted the registration table. I gave my mother a brief hug and went to join the girls’ line with Maeve. Soon, we’d reached the front. I looked down at Maeve, “You want me to go first, kiddo?”

She glanced up at me with wide eyes, then stared forward and shook her head.

“You sure?”

“Mhmm. I just wanna get it over with.”

“Okay.” I hunched over and whispered into her ear, “You’re gonna be fine, I promise. It’s not as bad as you think. I’ll see you in a few minutes, yeah?”

She nodded. I gave her hand a squeeze and watched her walk up to the table. I heard them speaking faintly and a few minutes later, she turned around to look at me, a nervous expression on her face. I gave her a reassuring nod then headed over there myself.

The woman at the table sat there with a bored expression. She looked to be in her 30’s, but the heavy dark circles under her eyes seemed to age her quite a few years.

“Last name?” She said. She didn’t bother to look up at me.

“Whitlock.”

“Whitlock…” she muttered, flipping through the pages, “Right, Whitlock. Persephone?”

“Yeah.”

She crossed my name off the list. “You’re sixteen?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” she sighed, “Hold out your hand, please.” She took a small device next to her and clipped it onto my index finger. I winced when I felt the needle prick my skin. She unclipped the device then stamped my wrist with the capitol’s sigil.

“You can go join your age group, fourth line from the left.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

She paused, then looked up at me sympathetically, “And um, good luck.”

I nodded and gave her a curt smile before heading over to join my peers. We were arranged by age and gender, boys and girls separate, all standing in rows in front of the stage. I stood waiting, and mindlessly watched the rows slowly multiply. I didn’t know how much time had passed, but soon enough, I looked up at the stage to see a woman in a bright magenta pantsuit. The hem of her skirt was decorated with a flounce of fabric, and she wore a light pink blouse underneath her suit jacket. The front of it contained so many ruffles, you could hardly see her neck. Her hair was pale blonde, and styled in a way that made it look like a cloud sitting on top of her head. Her face was powdered white, save for her blushed cheeks and glossy lipstick. Her lips were absurdly over lined, both painted a shocking fuchsia that closely matched her outfit. She approached the podium with tiny steps and cleared her throat daintily, “Welcome, everyone, to the reaping ceremony for the 59th annual Hunger Games!” People remained silent; the only reaction being a cough from someone in the crowd. She cleared her throat once more, “As always, we shall begin by watching a special film from the capitol, telling us the history and origins of this unique tradition, and to remind us why we are all standing here today.”

At her words, the two televisions turned on to display the Capitol’s sigil. It faded out, and a film about the glorious history of Panem started rolling. I tuned out and stared blankly at the rows of people ahead of me. When the film concluded, Ms. magenta up at the podium clapped enthusiastically. She was the only one. “Oh, wasn’t that wonderful?” She exclaimed, “What a rich history this nation has.”

I scoffed, that’s one way to put it, I thought.

“Now, as always- ladies first.” She stuck her hand into the large glass bowl on the right side of the podium and shuffled her hand through the slips of paper before snatching one up. She gingerly unfolded the paper and held it delicately between her index finger and thumb.

She cleared her throat and read out the name, “Maeve Whitlock.”

I felt my heart stop in my chest.

No.

My eyes darted through the crowd and I saw people make way for her as she slowly walked to the stage, shaking with every step. Images from my dream flashed through my mind- most poignantly, the image of me watching helplessly, as a dark shadowy figure slashed a knife across my sister’s throat. Panic rose in my chest; my heart beat so loudly in my ears that I barely heard myself shout, “WAIT!” Everyone turned to look at me. My breathing sped up as I suddenly felt at a loss for air, “I volunteer.” I added, my voice cracking slightly, “I volunteer as tribute.” Maeve looked back at me with pleading eyes and shook her head furiously. I avoided her gaze and stared straight ahead as the crowd parted to allow me through to the stage. I paused to grab Maeve’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I cradled the back of her head and planted a kiss atop her forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as I shakily released her from my grasp and allowed the other girls in the crowd to place a comforting hand on her shoulders as they quietly pulled her away from me. I walked up to the stage and slowly climbed the short flight of steps to then take my place just behind the glass bowl from which my sister’s name was drawn. I can’t believe I’m about to be shepherded to my untimely death because of a stupid glass bowl. I felt my hands getting clammy, and I held to the hem of my dress to keep them from shaking. Ms. Magenta smiled and stepped towards me, “And what is your name, dear?”

“Persephone Whitlock.” I stated.

“And you are…?”

“Her sister.”

“Her sister! Oh, well, of course you are!” she remarked, “Well, that was a very brave thing you just did, Persephone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say that this was a truly inspiring moment! Well done! And may the odds be ever in your favor.” she smiled brightly and turned towards the crowd. There were a few measly claps, but they quickly fell silent. “And now, let us draw our male tribute.” She stepped over to the glass bowl on her left and repeated the process. I stared blankly past the rows of people; only when she read the name was my trance broken, “Frederick Weasley.” A tall, redheaded boy emerged from the crowd. I stared as he made his way up to the podium. I recognized him from school. I didn’t know him well, but I knew he had a twin brother- George, I think- who’d lost an ear in a factory accident a few years prior, and was thus ineligible to compete in the Games, as his injury would be an unfair advantage to the other tributes. Apparently, he’d been checking the cogs underneath a broken machine when it somehow turned on and cut his left ear clean off. It was formally reported as an accident, but it’s been rumored that he did it on purpose. There were no witnesses, so no one can say for sure, but if it was intentional, I can’t say I blame him for doing it. There are very few ways you can get out of the games if you’re under 18- something as extreme as losing an ear would certainly fall under that category. I stared at the redhead as he took his place behind the other glass bowl. He was tall, at least 6 foot 4, and seemed to tower over my own 5 foot 10 frame. I’d always thought I was fairly tall for my age, and was used to surpassing most adults in height; but standing next to him, I felt like a child. His entire body was long and lean, but I could tell from the way his shirt clung to him that he was not just skin and bone. He had a well-structured face. Round brown eyes, thin lips, a prominent, romanesque nose; his jaw was clenched as he stared straight ahead and refused to look at me. Him and his brother were known for pulling pranks and cracking jokes at school- there was a strange, impish quality to his features that unintentionally revealed his penchant for mischief. Every inch of his cool, pale skin was covered in freckles. Despite his pallid complexion, his cheeks always seemed to have a slight blush to them that made everything about him appear bright and lively. However, at the present moment, his face had been drained of all colour, save for a rather sickly green tinge. No wonder he doesn’t want to look at me- poor kid looks like he’s about to puke. Ms. Magenta finally stepped forward, “Excellent! We now have our two lovely tributes! Both of whom will now be escorted into the Justice building to await further instructions; Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” And with that, the Capitol’s sigil was once again displayed on the TVs, and its anthem blasted through the speakers. Suddenly, I felt four hands grab me by the arms and forcefully pull me backwards. I stumbled slightly, and looked up to see the two peacekeepers responsible. They continued to pull me across the stage before practically shoving me down the stairs and onto the cobblestone street. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my fellow tribute was receiving the same gentle treatment as they dragged- I’m sorry, escorted him- to the large, looming structure behind us. As they “escorted” me towards the building’s heavy brass doors, I looked back frantically, trying to spot my mother and sister. But the crowd had gotten rowdier, and they were all being jammed together as the peacekeepers continued to push them away from the stage. My breathing quickened, and I could feel the blood pumping through every vein in my body. When we reached the threshold, the brass doors opened to reveal a high-ceilinged marble hall, and a rush of cool air escaped them. So THIS is where all our air-conditioning goes, I thought to myself. Every sound echoed through the building’s marble interior. I craned my neck upwards and tried to take in every opulent detail as I was dragged down a hallway and shoved into a small room, where the peacekeepers finally released me from their vice grip. “Wait here,” one of them said. They both left and shut the door behind them. I massaged my sore upper arms. “You didn’t have to pull me so hard, you know!” I shouted at the door, “not like I was planning on going anywhere!”. I sighed and stepped back from the door. “Assholes,” I muttered to myself. I plopped down onto a green velvet armchair and examined my surroundings. The walls and ceilings were paneled in rich, mahogany wood. The square panels above me were covered in intricate carvings, complementing the elaborate crystal chandelier hanging in the center. While I assumed the floor was wood, it was hard to tell because of the heavy oriental rugs that adorned its surface. There were two large windows behind me, both framed by plush velvet curtains. They were the same emerald green as the chair, and were tied back with a thick, gold rope that had tassels on the end of it, so as to allow in natural light. There was not much furniture in the room aside from two armchairs- one of which I already occupied- a round, wooden coffee table between them, and two empty bookshelves inlaid in the wall on either side of the room. A thin blue vase containing a single white rose sat in the center of the coffee table. The smell of it was unnaturally overpowering. Something about it made me uneasy, so I carefully pushed it to the far side of the table and shifted away from it. I unconsciously started chewing on my lip. I couldn’t sit still. Sitting there shaking my leg, or playing with the hem of my dress, wasn’t helping. I let out a frustrated groan and jolted up from my seat. I continued to chew my lip as I restlessly paced back and forth across the room. The heavy rugs didn’t hide the creaking of the floorboards as I stomped across them. After what felt like hours, I heard the door creak open. I stopped in my tracks and ran to the door to greet my mother before she’d even entered the room. Her and my sister enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug which I eagerly returned. The peacekeeper standing behind them cleared his throat. We slowly let go of each other and turned to face him. “You have ten minutes to say goodbye- not a second more.” he said in a gruff voice. As my mother and sister stepped fully into the room, the peacekeeper roughly shut the door behind them and left.

END OF PART ONE

a/n: If you’ve made it this far, 1. Hi, I love you 2. Will I write more for this series? To quote John Mulaney, “Who’s to say?”.

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blueroan-equestrian · 4 years

Text

More to life 7

If you haven’t read ch 6

https://blueroan-equestrian.tumblr.com/post/624464011449204736/more-to-life-6

Ch 7 smut with the usual warnings

Geralt’s arms were tightly wound around me when I woke up, “Geralt? Are you awake?”

“Hmm?”

“Why exactly did we have to leave?”

“Because... I killed one of them.”

“It was self defence... you were defending us!”

“Well that doen’t matter, all they will see is that a Witcher killed a man ... if they didn’t come for me they’d go for you when I left... I can’t stand the thought of losing you... I’m sorry I’m having you relocate.” He whispers kissing my head.

“It’s alright, so long as I have you. Now we should get going while we have sunlight. I would say it looks to be high noon.” I say as I sit up.

Geralt grunts in agreement and we water the animals one last time and grab Jaskier as we head out.

We travel until the night falls and it’s too dark for anyone but Geralt to see. Geralt had to tie the horses then come and lead me down and over to a place where we could lay down. However it wasn’t as safe as we were last time, I woke up to being dragged off Geralt and up into the air. “Geralt!!!!!” I scream as I struggled against the grip on my leg.

“(Y/N!)” Geralt yelled, “Hold on! I’m coming!”

I wish I could say I got out unscathed but I fell and knocked myself out.

I wake up in Geralt’s arms. Roach is tied to the back of the wagon and Jaskier is upfront. “Geralt? Where are we?” I groaned.

“Shhhh.... it’s okay baby, you’re okay just rest we’re almost to a town that has a doctor. You’re going to be fine.”

I groaned but didn’t speak again, my head was pounding. I closed my eyes again and the next time I woke up, I was laying in a small bed with a strange man looming over me. “Geralt?” I squeaked. Geralt was beside me, on his knees in a second.

“I’m right here honey... just let the doctor look you over... ok you drink what he’s giving you, come on I’ll help you sit up.” He whispered as he gingerly lifts me to a slightly lifted position. I struggle but I managed to get down the nasty liquid in the cup the doctor gave me.

“Geralt!” I whined, “snuggles!”

He begins to pet my hair, “I can’t, honey you need sleep.”

I whined but do as I was told. I slept there for three days before being cleared to travel again.

Geralt seemed off. He keeps looking at me as if to say something but not sure how to say it. “Geralt? Are you ok?” I chirped from my place in the back of the wagon.

He looks at me from atop Roach as she walks beside the wagon, “I’m fine... but you’re not... I keep putting you in danger.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that fell right out of my mouth, “Geralt you haven’t once put me in danger! First it was the prejudice of small men, then it was some beast none of which you sought out for. It was out of your control but you handled each situation to the best of your of abilities. You did great. I am lucky to have you.”

“She’s right Geralt... you know I don’t think I have ever seen you doubt yourself. This isn’t a time where you should and you know it. Now the time you left her, now that is a time that you should have doubted yourself.” Jaskier chimed.

I laugh and Geralt grumbles but ultimately agrees. We come to a clearing in a field and it’s a ways off from a tiny town and has a small pond.

Geralt hopped down and helped me down and took care of the horses before returning to me. He took me into his arms and whispered, “This is a perfect spot for us, the villagers won’t bother coming out here but we can ride into town for supplies. I’ll build us a little house here.”

“I think that is a great idea. Now we have a ton of eggs, how about some eggs for dinner? Tomorrow I will go into town for some supplies and some tools.”

“Sounds good. I am going to set up a protective perimeter to keep you safe from any monsters.”

“What would I do if I didn’t have you.”

“Still have your own home ... not have been put at risk.”

“Please I barely make it through the winters. If you hadn’t gotten me these shoes I would probably lost some toes. I was alone struggling... now I have you and Jaskier in my life to help. Jaskier made the past year so much better. He was a real help.”

“I’m glad you had him... and I’m sorry I left the way I did.”

“Geralt, it’s all okay. I need to make dinner now ... go make your circle.”

I have to dig a fire pit so Geralt has time to set up a tent. “Alright boys grab a bowl from the cart, dinner is ready.”

We were huddled together as we ate. “So why here?” I asked.

Geralt scarfing his eggs down, “Because this town is...”

“Where Geralt and I met! You big softy!” Jaskier chimed in (show version not any other version as I hear it did not go smoothly there).

“Aw! That’s so sweet! I love that!” I giggle leaning into Geralt.

He gives an uncomfortable smile that if you weren’t paying attention you would miss it. “Hmm.”

We laugh and go to bed. We rise and work together to start building a new home. It’s a hard job to do but I have brought the boys tools for the house while I got things to restart my garden. Geralt is building a larger house for us and Jaskier tries to help. I struggle to feed us as there isn’t much to gather and eggs aren’t enough. Geralt teaches me how to set traps and then how to prepare what is caught. He is just so capable, and I.... “Sweetheart,” he called, “are you alright?”

I look up at him and mustered up a smile, “Yeah... I’m fine... rabbit is almost cleaned and then I make us some rabbit stew with some of the plants I picked.”

The look he gave me said he didn’t believe me but he wasn’t one to push. After dinner he led me into the woods.

Smut coming if you want to skip find Jaskier’s picture as usual.

Geralt sits down on a log and pulled me onto his lap, “Ok... I might not be good at this... talking and caring thing but I’m going to do better for you. Now give me a kiss and then tell me what’s wrong.” Without hesitating I lean in and kiss him. But talking about feelings of inadequacy... that was a harder task.

“I...I... I’m feel like I’m a burden and like l’m going to be a bad wife.”

He holds me, “Why would you be a burden? I uprooted your entire life and you didn’t so much as complain about it. You are going to make me the happiest man because I will have the best wife. Now I have a friend who misses you. Can he come see you?” He nuzzles his nose into my neck.

“Mmmm! Please I’ve missed him.” I groaned as I bit at his lower lip.

He growled and sets me onto the ground and onto my back.

I look up at him with a smile as he pulled up my dress and slowly kissed his way down to rest between my legs. He grins up at me before plunging forward and licking a thick strip up my folds. I let out a loud gasp as I wiggle and his hands come up to hold my hips.

“Geralt! Oh Mmmm!” I moaned, “Please... mmm... please... more I need more!”

Geralt hums happily, “Mmm someone is needy... I want to hear you cry out my name.”

“Geralt!”

“Louder!” He growled into my folds.

“GERALT!!!!!!! Oh Goddess! GERALT OOOOOH!!!!” I screamed.

Geralt circled his tongue around my clitoris as he inserted his thick finger inside me and began to stroke me. He had me crying tears of ecstasy.

He climbed back up me smirking with my cum on his chin, “You taste sweeter than honey.” Geralt hummed kissing me deeply, “I want to feel you around me.” I groaned and allowed my hands to wonder down and pulled loose it’s ties before pulling him out to guide him to my entrance. “Are you ready?” I nod and he plunges into me with a deep groan, “You are so tight. I’m going cum if you keep squeazing me like this and I haven’t even moved and I have a reputation to keep.”

I giggle, “Then maybe you should get to work.”

He growls and began to pump in and out, both of us losing our senses. Coming down from our highs he put himself back and carries me back to our tent and we fell asleep.

We woke to Jaskier’s whining and shuffling around. Within the week we had a small house with a kitchen and two bedrooms. But all good things must end, “I got to go... we burned through what I made my last spit. Which is my fault. I made you relocated and replacing your garden and restablishing you has drained our founds. I need to go and take a few jobs.”

“But Jaskier is realing good at making money from nothing and I still have some soaps I can sell and I can take up washing clothes.” I begged.

Geralt takes me into his arms, “We can’t live off that, and I won’t have you working yourself to the bone. While I... do... what? I’m not going to let you work till your fingers bleed while I ... try and fail to help? Fighting monster is what I’m good at, I can support us.”

“You built me a god damn house! You deserve nothing more than to be taken care of.”

“Hmm, and I love that you want to take care of me. I love you and I don’t want to leave you either but I do need to take care of you... and this is the only way I know how. I promise to be back no later than six months, then we’ll have a nest egg and I can come and go more fluidly. I know this isn’t what you want but it’s what we need right now. I will return to you.” He leans down and kisses me as he holds me close.

“I love you Geralt...”

ch 8 link

https://blueroan-equestrian.tumblr.com/post/625284095838240768/more-to-life-8

tags: @sdavid09, @ayamenimthiriel, @fire-in-her-veinz

#geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia smut #geralt x y/n #witcher fanfiction #witcher smut #witcher #witcher imagine

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