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callsign-bunnie · 10 months

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gazrudy omega/omega for the betterment of the world my friend

This took longer than it should have and I will admit, a fair amount of it was worldbuilding. Yes, for a oneshot.

Rodolfo had been a camboy, a male omega sexual streamer, since he was 19 years old. He’d been struggling to pay his way through college and so a friend, Soap Mactavish, had gotten him into it. The friend was also an omega, and he had made a fuck ton of money doing “pleasure streams” where he essentially got paid to play with himself while lonely, horny alphas would watch and tip him.

Like Rodolfo had said, Soap made a ton of money. An absurd amount of money. So, Rodolfo had tried it. He’d apparently been exactly what a bunch of these alphas were looking for, because his first stream had secured him several “regulars” through the site he was using.

Then, that site shut down and left a lot of the streamers without work. So, Rodolfo and Soap had combined Soap’s computer science degree and Rodolfo’s business management degree and they’d started their own site.

They didn’t want to deal with employment laws or anything, so only they used the site, but they had had plenty of regulars, two of which actively fund Rodolfo and Soap’s individual lifestyles, so they had had enough revenue to keep going.

Soap eventually moved away from streaming to just doing videos and he had even done personal meets with a couple of his regulars, now doing regular meetings and “sessions” with the aforementioned alpha, Ghost, that basically was Soap’s Sugar Daddy, and so Rodolfo was still the primary streamer.

Or, he had been. Then, Gaz came into his life. Rodolfo had wanted a bigger apartment, but he didn’t want to live alone, and he wasn’t quite ready to take the plunge and allow Alejandro, his regular, to become his Sugar Daddy, yet, so he would need someone to help him pay rent.

Gaz was, at first, a quiet and shy omega. Rodolfo had only needed someone to cover 1/3 of the rent, and he’d figured it’d be easier to find someone that way. Gaz was new to the area, a transfer from a different college, and apparently the luxury apartment that Rodolfo had chosen was a dream come true for him, which…

Well, Rodolfo wouldn’t brag but it definitely was a fantastic apartment.

And, he was a pleasant omega. Gorgeous, Rodolfo would say, and fairly funny once he got used to you. He kept the two rooms he rented clean and while he didn’t cook much, he was very forthcoming in compliments when Rodolfo did.

Well, Gaz had lost his job around six months into their living situation, and this was around the same time Soap had stopped streaming. A gap in the website had been opened and Gaz had came to Rodolfo and asked if he could start streaming as well and they’d came to the agreement that Rodolfo would just take his portion of rent from the revenue and give him the rest.

Gaz had been very popular, right off the bat, just like Rodolfo. He was tall for an omega, but he was, as Rodolfo had mentioned, gorgeous. All legs, smooth skin, and while he was a bit shy on camera, a lot of the viewers had eaten it up, calling it refreshing from Soap’s sultry personality. (Soap had had a few things to say, but he’d ultimately agreed that Rodolfo could play sultry enough for the both of them and that Gaz was a bit of a change. He had not appreciated Rodolfo’s challenge of him going back to streaming, though.)

They’d never streamed together, though. The other omega made Rodolfo feel odd things… He’d never been quite sure he wanted to cross that line, unsure he’d be able to come back from it.

“Classes were awful.” Gaz groaned and plopped down on the couch beside Rodolfo, using a towel to try his hair. “I don’t know what bug has been up my professor’s asses, but with the exception of Price and Laswell… Ugh, I don’t even know. I’m sick of them.”

Rodolfo laughed, softly, amused with his roommate. He’d graduated a few months previous and wasn’t sure he wanted to pursue his master’s, yet. He knew the website couldn’t be his career, forever, but he doubted he needed a master’s as a landing pad. “I do not miss classes.”

Gaz snorted and slammed back into the couch, just wearing a towel. “What are we watching?”

Rodolfo shrugged, looking away before his head got distracted. “Something random. It was suggested on the front of the streaming site, so I just stuck it on. Honestly, it’s garbage, might as well be on the Lifetime channel.”

Gaz “ahhed” and then sighed. “I should do some classwork I have, but I think if I looked at it, I might throw my laptop across the room, so I think I might skip out, tonight.”

Most were shocked when Gaz was revealed to be more of a jock than an academic. He had fantastic grades, he was in the more advanced courses, and he placed a lot of emphasis on keeping his mind sharp, but Gaz was also head of the omega’s volleyball team, played co-ed football, and just, generally, seemed to prefer sports.

Rodolfo laughed, again. “That laptop is important for making money, so maybe don’t put it in jeopardy of being broken?”

“That was my thinking.” Gaz smiled at him and then he shrugged. “So, no homework tonight.”

Then, the other omega stretched out, closing his eyes and yawning softly. Rodolfo’s eyes immediately went over his limbs, following every inch of skin, and he grasped at the blanket he was under. He didn’t know what to call this, was it a crush? Whatever it was, it was on his last nerves and he needed to stop having to deal with it. “Let’s order dinner.” Gaz suddenly said, opening his eyes. This startled Rodolfo, so he quickly looked away. “Are you… okay?”

Rodolfo found himself blushing dark and he looked at the ceiling. “Yeah. I’m fine.” When he looked at Gaz, Gaz didn’t look convinced. “Anyway, you said let’s order dinner?”

“Yeah…” Gaz narrowed his eyes for a moment before shrugging and getting out his phone. “Our usual?”

“Yeah, sure.” Rodolfo nodded a bit, trying his best to turn back to the TV and focus on it. “Are you planning on streaming tonight?”

“No. I made enough off the last that I think i’m gonna take a break, tonight.” Gaz answered and set his phone down, again. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” He’d just been curious. “Just… was asking.”

Gaz “ahhed” and then they fell into an awkward silence. Rodolfo really needed to get a handle on himself. “Have you gotten any consistent regulars? I haven’t checked in on your streams, lately.” It was getting too much to handle.

“Yes, actually… A couple. One, I feel bad, but I think he’s trying to become like Ghost and Alejandro is to you and Soap. He’s very sweet, nice to talk to.” Gaz explained. “Hasn’t told me his name, yet.”

Funnily enough, Rodolfo wasn’t that jealous. It’s what made his feelings even more complicated. Because he wouldn’t be jealous if Gaz found an alpha like he or Soap had. He certainly would if Gaz got into an actual relationship, but not something like that. Soap and Ghost’s relationship did verge on romantic but… it wasn’t committed.

Rodolfo nodded a bit. “He sounds good. Spoils you, I presume?”

“Completely.” Gaz smiled. “I don’t know, he seems lonely, I… I feel like I’m taking advantage of him. How do you and Soap not feel bad about Ghost and Alejandro?”

“Fuck,” Rodolfo winced. Alejandro was complicated… Alejandro was a childhood best friend… He did feel bad. “I do feel bad. It’s why I’ve tried to back away from it. I don’t know how Soap does it… Well, I think he really likes Ghost, I think that’s how.”

Gaz frowned and then sighed. “I love doing this, but… it gets so complicated on my emotions. So many lines constantly get blurred… I don’t know where to set my boundaries and where to take them down.”

Rodolfo agreed that it could get really complicated. So insanely complicated. “Trust me, I get it.” He looked away from Gaz, again grasping at the blanket. When the food arrived, he took a breath and got up to go get it, handing Gaz his and then hesitating. “I think I’m going to go eat in room and then go to bed early.”

Gaz frowned and then looked disappointed before nodding. “Alright. Sleep well, Rudy.”

Rodolfo nodded and then went to his room, taking a deep breath. God, he needed to get a handle on himself. He shook it off and just turned something on the tv, trying desperately hard to get his mind off the other omega. Gaz was right, things got so overwhelmingly complicated.

With Soap, with Alejandro, and definitely with Gaz. He wanted a ton of things he couldn’t exactly have and it drove him mad. It didn’t feel fair, sometimes, how complicated things could get. He didn’t want to be dealing with all of these feelings…

He made a frustrated sound and just focused on eating and whatever shit movie he’d put on. He fought his mind to keep it off of his roommate, and to keep himself from going out to the living room and opening a door he wasn’t sure he’d be able to close.

When he finished eating, he put his leftovers in the little mini fridge he kept in his room, so he wouldn’t have to leave his room, and just tried to settle into bed, tired anyway. It did cross his mind to stream, but… he really didn’t feel like it.

He jumped when he heard his door start to open, quickly sitting up, and frowning when Gaz came into his room. “Gaz, I-”

Gaz didn’t give him a chance to speak, crossing the room and climbing onto the bed, his mouth immediately on Rodolfo’s. It startled and shocked Rodolfo, but he couldn’t find himself shoving the other omega away, either.

Gaz’s hands were all over Rodolfo, clumsy but in a desperate way, not an inexperienced way. Rodolfo didn’t fight him when he was shoved down into the bed, and he just moved his hands to grasp at Gaz’s arms as he moved to kiss his neck, and Rodolfo keened up into him.

“I- What are you doing?” Rodolfo asked, almost not expecting to receive an answer.

Gaz shoved his hands up Rodolfo’s shirt, causing him to shiver as his cold skin touched Rodolfo’s always warm skin. However, then he paused. “I… I like you. I know you like me too, and I want… us to acknowledge that.”

Rodolfo flushed dark and he moved to be able to look at Gaz, easier, before touching his face and kissing him again. He softened when the other omega just melted and then his hands were touching all over him, again.

Eventually, they found between his legs, thrusting under his panties and Rodolfo gasped as fingers pushed into him. He was already so slick and he whined as Gaz’s long fingers worked in and out of his body, gladly accepted by it. “Fuck, Gaz…” he moaned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Gaz purred and nuzzled into Rodolfo’s neck, biting and kissing over the skin that was there. “You’re so pretty…” It was almost whined into his skin. He flushed dark red as he felt Gaz grind into his thigh and he quickly scented him, gasping at the harsh bite he earned in response.

Rodolfo arched his back as Gaz’s fingers shoved deeper inside him, digging his nails into Gaz’s back and grinding his hips against his hand. Finally, Gaz scented him in return and he just melted as the sensation of a hot summer rain filled his senses, moving so he could bite into Gaz’s shoulder.

Gaz continued to grind into his thigh, in time with his hand movements, and he moaned Rodolfo’s name, which had his stomach doing odd things, flipping and squeezing. Rodolfo continued to grasp onto him, rocking against his hand and shifting his hips so he could push his leg up against Gaz. Gaz’s movements stuttered a bit, before they seemed to pick up in intensity.

It wasn’t long and Rodolfo was tensing as he came, arching his back up and into Gaz. Gaz came shortly after him, his hips stuttering and jerking. “Fuck…” Gaz whined when he was done and then he moved to the side, hugging onto Rodolfo and nuzzling him.

Rodolfo melted into the bed, panting softly, before turning and curling up into the other omega. “That’s certainly a way to acknowledge feelings.” He finally teased, softly. “Maybe a conversation, next time, corazón?”

“Maybe…” Gaz laughed, softly. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”

No, Rodolfo certainly hadn’t been. And he wasn’t, now. He yawned. “Sleep in here, tonight…” he murmured, nuzzling into the other’s chest. “Please.”

Gaz just nodded. “I will…” He murmured, and then Rodolfo heard his breathing slow as he, presumably, dozed off. So, Rodolfo joined him, smiling softly as he did so.

Do you want to be added to this taglist? Reply to this post that you wish to be added to the taglist and I will start to tag you in it every time I post it. You can also use this form!

Ship: @the-pluto-828 @lieutenant-storm @roachboy @del79jji

Oneshots: @thegodofsleep @the-pluto-828 @sinclairbrosbathmat @wittymanatee @vergilnelosparda @roachboy @del79jji @thisisthedarknessofmymind @thatnerdnamedtj

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#Gaz x Rodolfo #Rodolfo Parra #kyle gaz garrick #gazrudy #gaz cod #rodolfo cod #Rodolfo x Gaz #call of duty #rudygaz #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #omega kyle gaz garrick #omega rodolfo parra #omega gaz #omega rodolfo

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charliedawn · 2 years

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It’s been a while since I’ve made a request, and I promise I am writing more of my Hannibal storyline with your characters, because I love them so much!🥰 How would the Hannibal’s react if the reader accidentally cut themselves in the kitchen while trying to make food for them because they were busy and overworking themselves?

Hannibal Sr. : "Oh well..That is very unfortunate."

Hannibal Sr. would remain civilized on the outside and take care of the wound, pretending not to be affected at all.

But on the inside, he'd be trying very hard not to think of taking a bite.

Hannibal Sr. has the most developed sense of smell out of all the members of the family and the scent of your blood alone would be enough to give him..bad ideas.

He won't hurt you. Of course.

He would also advise you to get some rest and take care of the cooking.

But, the memory might stay long after the incident and he also might ask for your blood on special occasions.

Even if Hannibal Sr. cares for you, he's still a cannibal and once he's got the scent, it would be very hard for him to resist the temptation.

Now, there can be two reactions to Hannibal Jr. seeing you bleeding.

If he isn't hungry, he'll be the perfect gentleman and ask you how you are and bandage the wound with no hesitation whatsoever.

He would also help you cooking, or send you straight to bed for a long deserved nap.

He would also kiss the back of your hand before sending you on your merry way.

But, if he is hungry.

"..."

Dead silence would follow and intense staring. Very dark and bloodthirsty staring.

If he is in one of those moods ?

Run. Run as far as those legs can carry you. Because if he finds you, you may not have legs anymore.

Morgan : "Look at that..It seems we've got quite the precarious situation on our hands..But, I don't blame you. *leans forward and smiles in false concern* Must be hard to hold a knife, isn't it darling ?"

He'd tease you at first for being clumsy, but he would eventually help you.

Morgan is a doctor. He sees blood every day and it won't affect him as much as the other family members.

He would be the one you would have to come to for any minor or serious injuries, but it doesn't mean it won't cost you..

You *feeling as if you're about to pass out* : "M..Morgan ?"

Him *smiles and strokes your hair* : "Don't worry. You're only going to take a quick nap. You need the sleep."

He usually has radical solutions for every problem.

If you are tired and did not think of taking care of your own health, he would drug you and make sure to take care of you himself.

...It doesn't mean he won't discreetly take samples of your blood for...further studies.

Kevin *stares* : "...You're bleeding."

You : "Thank you, captain obvious."

Kevin : "...Do you want me to lick it clean ?"

You : "..."

Him : "..."

You : "...Why ?"

Him : "...Please ?"

Kevin doesn't have any speech filter. It means he has an idea and the idea leaves his mouth before he can truly process it.

He is ruled by impulses and wouldn't see anything wrong with asking for the most absurd of things on a whim.

Even if those things involve murder, or licking your bloody wound.

Kevin *smiles happily and leaves with bloody lips*

Peter : "Oh no ! What happened ?! Did you get hurt ?!" *looks at the wound in worry*

Peter would panic and immediately search for a way to help you.

He would alert the whole house to find someone who knows how to stitch your wound.

He would then stay with you and make sure to put everything sharp out of your reach.

He would also make sure you get the rest you deserve and cook dinner (even though he would be unable to cook anything with meat in it and would end up asking for another family member to do it instead).

Peter *holds your hand and smiles* : "You need to take care of yourself. We care about you...*looks away blushing* I care about you."

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #hannibal jr #hannibal x reader #hannibal family #peter hannibal #morgan hannibal #kevin hannibal #hannibal sr.

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masterwords · 1 year

Text

convalesce

Summary: Hotch is out on medical leave (post-Route 66) for his birthday. It still turns out to be a pretty good day.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (established as usual, they just exist as husbands in my head)

Warnings: mentions of hospital/surgery (9x05 - Route 66) but this is really so fluffy and soft and mushy...

Words: 2.9k

Notes: Okay so here's the thing. Hotch was technically back by his birthday in canon, but that means he took roughly ONE WEEK off after collapsing and nearly dying. I refuse to allow that, so I'm fixing it and he's still on leave for his birthday. Yeah. This is SO SOFT, like all squishy soft and sweet. I have a history of being mean to him on his birthday but this year (at least with this fic) I've decided to be nice.

Read on AO3: convalesce

“Hey, baby?”

His voice hardly rose above a whisper and yet in the stillness of the room it felt like shouting. He glanced at the light pooling beneath the door to the hallway, Jessica was up corralling Clooney so Derek could get ready. She slept about as well as Hotch did, he'd discovered over the last few days of her having effectively moved in. It had been slow, first she just brought pajamas and a toothbrush, asking for nothing more than a couch and a blanket. It was just supposed to be for the first night Hotch was home from the hospital. She knew how to change the catheter, and Derek should be spared that...he had years of them dancing around old age ahead of him to learn that kind of thing. She knew how to do it now, had done it for her father plenty of times. She stayed after the catheter's removal, though, and he moved her into the guest room next door to Jack. Now she was cooking and cleaning and walking Clooney, doing everything so Derek didn't have to take time off of work.

Cruz appreciated her immensely. He sent her flowers and a gift card for coffee in an absurd dollar amount after the first couple of days, and then a case of wine showed up the day before. Derek wasn't sure if accepting the gifts was okay, but they weren't for him, Jessica wasn't his employee...besides, someone appreciating the work she did was about the most benign thing he could think of.

There wasn't even a stir beneath the blankets. Just silence.

“Aaron?” He leaned a little closer this time, until he could smell the sweaty man who was fully cocooned in the blankets, hardly more than the tip of his nose visible. Finally he shifted and pushed his face out, his eyes blinking so slow and completely unfocused. Derek pushed a tuft of hair out of his eyes and smiled. “There you are. Hey, we've gotta go...got a case in Houston.”

Hotch made a tired humming noise and pulled the blanket all the way down off of his head, squinting into the moonlit room.

“...time is it?”

“Two-thirty. I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving. I'll probably miss your birthday so I thought maybe you'd like to open one of your gifts early...you don't have to though. You can go back to sleep.”

Another hum, and Hotch shifted stiff and sore, trying to slide his useless middle up against the pillows. His hips ached, he hadn't moved in hours. He blinked slow again and focused his eyes on the glossy blue bag Derek was holding at his side, a cascade of silver ribbons tied to the handle catching the moonlight as eagerly as his bright smile. He handed it to Hotch fast, excited, before sitting beside him on the bed. Hotch tried to sit up straighter, shifting and pulling uncomfortably at the incision that ran the length of his abdomen. It stretched from breastbone to below his belly button, a strange shape that almost looked like a musical note held in place by staples. Derek reached out instinctively to help him adjust where he couldn't quite manage, where he didn't have the muscles available. It had hardly been a week since the incision was wide open, his guts splayed and rearranged, his heart shocked with cold metal paddles. Hardly a week and it felt like a lifetime.

But the reality was that no matter how far away it felt, he'd only been home from the hospital for three days. Four days in, three out. Seven days since collapse. He was alive, but he wasn't well. It would be a long road yet. Cruz's despair was palpable, and Derek was doing everything in his ability to make sure things went smoothly. For all their sake. Cruz was currently overlooking fraternization rules, but if Derek slipped he knew that might all come to an end. He had to be careful.

“Cruz is coming with us,” Derek said, watching Hotch fiddle with the ribbons timidly. “He knows the chief of police down there. He's trying too hard to help us out while you're here lounging at home.”

Hotch smiled absentmindedly at the implication that he was lazing about while he finally tugged the right ribbon and got the bag open. It revealed another obstacle, a mound of crisp white tissue paper that crinkled loud beneath his fingertips. “The security detail on this present is pretty intense, Derek...”

“Can't be too careful around this place. Some really shady characters hanging around these days.” Hotch imagined Derek was talking about Jessica, and took a second too long to register it as a joke. His brain was a soupy tired mess, but he smiled anyway. Jessica was shady, he agreed there. She'd steal whatever this was.

He moved slow, still half-asleep. One rrrrrrip and he tore into the tissue to reveal a soft blanket. Too soft. Velvety, thick, plush. He couldn't make out the strange array of colors and buried his fist inside of it in order to pull it out. The bag and tissue paper were quickly discarded, and Derek reached out to grab the bottom two corners, helping move this along faster. He really had to go. Quickly, he splayed the blanket out over the bed. It was huge and almost impossible in the dark and from Hotch's angle to make out the pattern at first.

Derek grinned proudly the moment he caught the realization on Hotch's stiff features. “Is that...your face?”

“Sure is,” Derek announced, pushing the tissue paper back into the bag and tossing it aside. “So you won't forget me while I'm gone.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Do you think that's likely to happen?” He had abdominal surgery, not brain surgery. He'd been trying to be gentle with Derek since it happened, the man was pulling double duty as Unit Chief and primary caregiver, burning the candle at both ends. In some ways, Hotch was glad they had a case that would take him out of town, maybe he'd get a break. He could focus entirely on the job and not worry about how Hotch was going to get from the bed to the toilet and back at 3am. Having the catheter had removed the need for that step but it was fleeting. He was on his own now. He was also doing just fine, he thought. No falls, a couple of near misses but he'd caught himself each time.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Hotch replied quietly, smoothing it beneath slow hands. He was losing the battle with his tired body. “It's beautiful.” It was. In that way that heartfelt things often were, their beauty didn't lie in aesthetics. He wouldn't put this blanket on display in the front room, perhaps, but he adored it nonetheless. "It'll keep me warm as I convalesce." He'd been using that word a lot in the last few days, Derek noted. It was his boredom talking, finding ways to make light of his situation in order to soften the blow that he could barely manage a walk from his bed to the kitchen without being significantly winded and ready for a nap. He'd been refining new jokes, mostly biting sarcasm that came out a little slow but didn't sting any less. Jess was the recipient more often than Derek, being around more. He'd dare her to steal the blanket, just to see, but he was pretty sure she wasn't going to try it. Not with Derek's enormous face right there. Derek managed to create the one thing she'd stay far away from. She was probably going to call it creepy.

“As you convalesce, huh?"

Hotch nodded and smiled, smoothing his hands over the soft fabric. He was so out of it. Derek didn't mind. He was struggling with this slower lifestyle, something he'd be at for the next few weeks. A few more days and the staples could come out, after that he thought things would get better. Maybe speed up a bit. Slowing down wasn't in the Hotch playbook of life, but he was dealing.

"Jess and I got you something else,” Derek said, pulling a box out of the closet. “You can open this now...the rest when I get back.” He was definitely going to be late. Hotch grabbed the box apprehensively, yawning wide and hard. This was a lot at 2:30 in the morning, and his fingers barely wanted to peel at the tape and get the box open. “Hospital socks?”

“All beige. Your favorite. Three pairs. So you don't slip on the hardwood floors when you're being stubborn in the middle of the night and refusing to ask for help.”

Hotch had nothing to say to that. He simply stared at the socks and forced a weary smile. “Thank you Derek.” Hospital socks at home were less than ideal but what was he going to say? The sentiment was sweet, if nothing else, and though he could make an argument that they had a plastic bin full of hospital socks already and didn't need brand new ones, he didn't bother. Derek needed to leave and was clearly just worried about him. He could understand that.

Besides, he did like socks. His feet were always cold.

Derek did miss his birthday, at least the majority of it. He called early in the morning and sang to him, even had the team on speaker for the occasion. He'd long since given up on trying to keep his birthday a secret, they just all knew better than to make a big deal at Quantico. Now, though, Jessica poked at him and told him to stop frowning while they sang...he'd almost died, he could let them sing to him. They were glad to be able to celebrate him...it could have been a very different gathering a little too easily.

After the phone call, Jessica taped up his incision and secured his shower chair before helping him in. She let him be in there extra long without badgering him even a little. After his shower, there was a tray of toast and honeydew melon waiting for him on the bed. Jessica had helped Jack prepare him something simple that he could eat and they visited with him while he sat with the tray over his thighs and ate slowly.

Too slowly. The meal ended up with toast crumbs in the sheets and a grape juice spill on his pillow when Clooney decided he was done being left out of the morning celebrations. So, he was relocated to the couch while the bed was stripped and washed. It hadn't pleased Jack, the mess they'd made, things not going right. He was being downright fussy after that, huffing his displeasure every time he walked by either of them. Hotch was sitting with his Derek blanket, watching it and wondering what he could have done differently, or how to fix it. Jack's attitude was wearing off on Clooney, the dog was wandering around, pacing and huffing beside the front door like he had had enough of all of them and wanted Derek home to cut the tension.

This wasn't really new for Jack though. He'd been on edge since his dad had come home, standoffish in ways he never was before. He wasn't around the last time Hotch had to heal from Foyet, this idea that his father was as fallible as his mother was new to him. He'd only had one outburst, followed by quick apologies and too many tears. Derek had dealt with that one, Hotch was still too out of it on drugs at that point to do more than join in the crying. “I WAS ALMOST AN ORPHAN AND YOU'RE ALL PRETENDING NOTHING HAPPENED!” It was a bad night. Derek knew enough to throw in the towel and call his mom, let Jack spend some time face timing with Grandma Fran. She could talk sense into him where she needed to, and push love into all the empty spaces he was filling with anger.

“Jack,” Jess said, drawing his attention away from his sulking and to her eager smile. “Why don't you take Clooney out back and throw the tennis ball for him a bit? He looks restless.”

“He wants a walk.”

She nodded earnestly. He was right, she wouldn't deny it. “I know, but I need to talk to your dad a minute. Take him out back please.”

When he realized this was not an argument but a demand, he grabbed the tennis ball and bounced it on the floor before him as he walked toward the slider. Clooney followed him quickly, tail wagging, and Hotch watched the procession with a gentle sleepy smile. He was about ready to take his first unscheduled nap of the day. The minute the slider was closed, she moved in close. Sat right down beside him on the couch and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “He's struggling,” she whispered and Hotch nodded slowly, his eyes shutting longer and longer with each blink. “He put so much effort into breakfast and it didn't turn out. Are you up for a re-do with lunch? I have an idea.”

The next round worked out better. Jack, with Jessica's direction, phoned in a takeout order at Hotch's favorite little bistro down the street. Just a cute little coffee shop right in the neighborhood that served pastries at breakfast and soup and pasta salads for lunch. Simple and easy. The whole family got out and took a walk with Clooney to pick it up. The walk was slow and Hotch was using the cane Jessica had given him, it was one of the many that Roy had whittled to sell at his store years before and wound up keeping for himself. He wrapped his hand around the bear's head and steadied himself against it, his beige grippy socks catching inside of his Adidas with each step. He really wasn't prepared for a public appearance, but they made it without incident and managed to enjoy a quiet meal without any disasters.

They even managed to finish it off with a lemon meringue pie topped with a few nubby little candles rustled up from one of Derek's kitchen junk drawers. Eleven candles, not quite accurate but they were varied sizes and some barely lit. The theme of this birthday, he thought, was it's the thought that counts. Besides, he couldn't produce enough wind to blow out more candles than he was faced with.

He hadn't eaten so much food in days.

And still, when he got the text from Derek saying he was going to be home in a few hours, he set to making more. It was the longest he'd spent on his feet in over a week, between the walk to the bistro and cooking dinner. It wasn't much, just tuna sandwiches on wheat with canned chicken and stars soup. There was even a slice of pie left.

No, it wasn't much, but it felt like a lot when Derek walked in and saw him curled up on the couch in his Derek face blanket with the table neatly set with a dinner for two.

“It's supposed to be your birthday,” Derek said, helping Hotch up off of the couch and tugging the blanket tight around his shoulders. “I should be cooking for you.”

“JJ told me it was a hard case. Didn't go the way anyone hoped. Are you alright?”

Derek's features fell, solemn and serious for a moment. He considered telling Hotch more about it but thought better of it. He was searching for ways to get some excitement into his life, and this wasn't it. This would definitely compromise his convalescence. “Yeah. I'll be okay. It was rough. We all knew it was coming but that doesn't make it easier when it comes down to it huh?”

“I'm sorry I wasn't there to help.”

Derek pulled him in tight for a hug, wrapped like a burrito in the blanket. His arms were pinned tight at his sides. “You're helping now. So, you want your real present now?”

“The blanket and socks weren't real? What else could I possibly need?” He didn't think he could handle opening another present, definitely didn't need anything. He felt good, a little sore but not real pain. He was happy, spoiled rotten even. There wasn't anything he could think of that he even wanted now.

“How about a family trip to Chicago to stay with my mom for a week? Cruz gave me the go ahead. Just picture it...a Chicago Bears game for Jack, tons of good food, birthday cake and chillin' for us. Cindi wants to take Jack and Anthony to the game, let us have the day to ourselves. Guess she's dating one of the athletic trainers and he got 'em free tickets. Box seats for Jack's birthday. All you gotta do is rest for a few more days, get cleared for those damn staples to be removed so you can travel and we're off to the races...you think you can manage that?”

Hotch smiled into a kiss, wishing he had his arms free to do some roaming. He supposed that one last gift would do just fine. He could handle that. “I'll do my best. Can I bring the grippy socks and blanket?”

“Oh, it's a requirement.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jessica brooks #jack hotchner #hotchgan #aaron hotchner x derek morgan #happybirthdayhotch22

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sternvonafrika · 4 years

Text

i will never forget how my mother told me "you know i would support you more if it wasn't for your father"

#my father loathes me & at this point it's impossible to deny it #it's absurd to clean & cook for him now; for someone that you know for sure never wanted you and hates you but still wants you to do the -#chorse because god forbid he touches something in this goddamn house #and my mother tell me i need to understand because it's not easy for him but he still loves me - and no; how can someone love his child -#and blatantly hate a part of who he is? how is this love? when he doesn't even TRY to work on it? why is it always me that needs to accept -#& understand the views of a sick homophobe who questions the value of the existence of people like me?#but also ... my mother is not innocent; because if she really was radically different from him she would argue with him and at least try -#to convince him that (very radical; i know) his son MAYBE still deserves some love BUT NO she just excuses him & acts as the progressive -#one right in front of my face in order to (idk?) have my sympathy? appear very tolerant? while she does nothing to change his mind #if she really believed i still deserve to be loved she would destroy the world to convince everyone i do; but she just say it to me -#(to reassure me i guess) and yet doesn't move a finger in my favor in front of homophobes #don't reblog i just don't know who to talk to; my best friend is on holiday and i feel ashamed even writing this here #nico.txt #tw homophobia

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lalal-99 · 2 years

Note

My internet apparently flaked and I don't now if my message reached you. So , sending it again

after sending the drabble request, I realised you don't write for I.N. if u r uncomfortable writing for him, you can write for Changbin.

The prompts again are 140,167 and 129

129. “That wasn’t my name you just cried when you came. So, who the fuck is he/she?” 140. “Are you flirting with me right now?” 167. “Is that my shirt?”

Changbin x afab!reader | regular hookup to relationship | smut and a lot of swearing | overstimulation | 1.5k words

Synopsis: When the guy you’ve been sleeping with for three months still refers to you as ‘a friend’ there is only so much you can do about it. Maybe screaming the wrong name during sex isn’t the smartest way to go, though.

Note: This is just pure filth. Enjoy ;)

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

_____________

When you first started seeing Changbin, everything was in good fun. Neither of you seemed too involved in the whole situation - you, for one, were just in it for the sex. And, honestly, who can blame you? It doesn’t happen every day that you meet someone who knows his way around a female body the way Changbin does.

It was only after spending two full weeks at his place - about three months into this thing you had gotten caught up in - that you started doubting the nature of this previously no-strings-attached relationship.

Coming over for an amazing hour each night was one thing. But staying the night and most of the day at a guy’s place, cooking dinner together, and going grocery shopping, definitely fell out of the norm for ‘just a hookup’.

At least for you, it did. Apparently, Changbin had a whole different name for your situation.

“Ah! My little Changbinnie has a new girlfriend. I’m happy to meet you, dear.”

Admittedly, running into his neighbour - an older, grey-haired woman - in the hallway was unplanned. All you had wanted was to go over to your place so that you could get some clean clothes for the next couple of days. And when Changbin escorted you outside like the gentleman he was, there she suddenly was - all smiles and calling you his girlfriend. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have been too bad had he not reacted in the worst way possible.

“No, Mrs Cho. Just a friend. "

Just a friend? He surely didn’t get blowjobs every night from any of his other friends.

That night, you didn’t come back, making up some fake excuse about an assignment you had totally forgotten about. Later that evening, when you met up with your best friend, you pondered for hours about how to react and what to do about it.

That was when you came up with this ridiculous idea.

It took you a couple of hours to make up your mind about whether you should do something so dangerous - cruel even. But you needed to do something, and after coming up with this devious plan, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Frankly, you were also pretty curious how Changbin would react.

So, there you were the following day, holding on to dear life below Changbin as he worked your spine into his soft mattress, screaming a made-up name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck! Jimin!”

“What?”

The second you opened your mouth, you already regretted ever coming up with an idea so absurd. Though, it was already too late. Changbin stopped every single one of his movements on top of you, causing you to fall from your high quicker than usual.

“What did you just say?”

“I- I didn’t say anything.”

You had never been a good liar, and when he pulled out of you, the duvet hugging his tight upper body, you just knew your face was as red as a tomato.

“Don’t you lie to me, y/n! That sure as hell wasn’t my name you just cried when you came. So, who the fuck is he?”

Had Changbin not been furious at that moment, his narrow eyes drilling holes into your skin, you would have swooned over his jealousy. After all, knowing that he could get jealous over you screaming someone else’s name meant that you indeed weren’t just a friend to him.

“It’s no one,” you explained, sitting up in his bed. Changbin’s brow furrowed as he looked at you in a mixture of anger, confusion, and hurt. “It was just a prank. God, I’m so stupid. I didn’t mean to- but Yuqi-” You were stumbling over your own words, so you took a quick second to catch your breath before reaching out to touch his cheek. “You called me a friend in front of your neighbour yesterday, so Yuqi and I came up with a plan make you jealous because we’re obviously not just friends . It was just a stupid prank. I’m so sorry.”

“A prank?” Changbin assured himself as you nodded. You felt bad for him as you hadn’t expected him to be hurt by your dumb plan. Though, the look of relief after finding out that you weren’t seeing anyone else was quickly overshadowed by a different side of him. “So, you think it’s okay to scream another man’s name while I make you come? Maybe it’s time for me to teach you a lesson.”

In only two quick motions, Changbin had forced you to lay back down, his hands keeping your legs in place as he made his way further down your body. You were still pretty much coming down from your previous orgasm as you felt his tongue push between your folds, licking a thick stripe up until he reached your clit. He flicked it before sucking it between his lips, causing your back to arch against his grip.

“How about I make you come until you get it right? How does that sound?” As Changbin’s teeth nibbled at your nub, a broken whimper left your lips, causing him to chuckle against your crotch. “That’s what I thought.”

While his tongue ran up and down your slit, spreading your previous release as well as his saliva all over your still sensitive area, you tried wiggling out of his grip. You should have known that while he was usually being gentle when it came to sex, the muscles he was training every possibility he got could do more than open a glass of pickles. As his fingers were digging into the skin of your thighs, you could barely move a centimetre away from his merciless mouth.

Your hands went to Changbin’s hair, pulling at the strands to get him to stop, though it was to no avail. He was set on getting you off again, and there was nothing you could do about it other than take it.

Soon your body was shaking below him, quivering with every move he made as wet sounds filled the room. Had you not laid on his bed, your legs would have surely given out under the amount of pleasure he was causing you.

“Fuck! Please Chang- Changbin. This is too.. too much.”

Your desperate pleas for mercy were met with nothing but ignorance as his tongue kept lapping at your entrance. Overwhelmed with pleasure and pain from the overstimulation, you tried to find something to hold on to - anything, really. All you could get a hold of at the second though, was one of his pillows as you pulled it towards your mouth to stifle your whimpering.

“Don’t! I want to hear you.”

Just as quickly as you had retrieved it, Changbin had pulled the pillow away from your mouth, throwing it into a random corner in his room.

Your breathing was unsteady as you tried holding onto his sheets instead, though that only caused them to loosen at the corners of his mattress.

“Fu-Fuck! So- so close!”

When Changbin heard that, he immediately loosened the grip around your thighs, one of his strong hands coming around your stomach to keep you still as the other hand disappeared between your legs. You wouldn’t have even noticed that had he not entered two of his fingers a second later, curling them up against that delicious spot inside you.

With the added pleasure from his thick fingers, you eventually reached your second high, struggling for air as you were starting to run out of it.

Tears started streaming down your face while frantic cries of his name left your mouth again and again as he led you through your orgasm. You almost thought that he was going for another one when he finally, after overstimulating you to a dangerous point, drew away, his fingers sliding out of you.

As Changbin made his way up your body, he buried his teeth into your skin every few kisses. They would surely leave some bite marks but right now, you were just glad that he had stopped. Another orgasm would have probably ended you.

“You’re beautiful when you’re all fucked out.” The compliment almost got by you as you were still occupied with catching your breath.

“Are- Fuck..” you cursed as you took a deep breath so that at least your brain could get the necessary oxygen. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

“How are you still such a tease after I just fucked all that out of you?” Changbin questioned with a smile before pressing a soft, wet kiss to your lips. “You should be really thankful I like my girlfriends on the sassier side.” To his surprise, you didn’t react to his words as you simply slid out of his bed, covering your upper body with the first thing you found lying on the floor. “Where are you going? Is that my shirt?”

“Relax. I’m not going anywhere, just the bathroom,” you calmed him as you made your way towards his bathroom door to clean up. “Also, you should probably get used to sharing your clothes with me. After all, that’s what I do with all my boyfriends.”

You teasingly stuck your tongue out at Changbin as he quickly sprung up from his bed to chase after you just as teasingly as loud giggles left your mouth.

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messers-moony · 3 years

Text

Tomorrow | S.B

Paring: Sirius Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: James is nervous to marry Lily so he asks his best friend how he managed to marry his wife.

A/N: I know that this is vote number one instead of number two (which won) however, I decided to scrap what I had for number two because it wasn’t good. This is better and I’ll continue to rewrite number two until it’s to my standards. I hope you understand.

His hands were sweaty. He was nervously pulling his hair which received multiple slaps from his best friend for ruining his hair. James stepped foot in the full-length mirror readjusting his bow tie while Sirius stood behind him, chuckling at his nervous best friend.

James sighed, “How’d you do it, Pads?”

“Mm?”

“How did you marry Y/n?”

Sirius chuckled, “Have you turned daft?”

James tilted his head in confusion, “You were my best man! You were there the entire time.” Sirius replied playfully.

“No, no, I mean, how did you really do it? Like step on the altar and marry her?”

“I just did?” Sirius answered, and James gave him a look, “Bullshit.”

“Okay, fine! Fine!” Sirius relented, “I was practically shitting myself. Y/n means a lot to me, ya’ know?”

James was silent, letting his best friend rant about his wife, “Y/n means everything to me. She’s been with me through thick and thin. There’s nothing more I wanted than to marry her even if it was in the midst of this war.”

“You’ve been chasing Lily for years, mate. I can promise you that she wouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t really want to.” Sirius assured.

“You’re sure?” James inquired insecurely, “I’m one hundred percent sure.”

A knock resonated on the door with a soft voice on the other side, “It’s just me!”

The female voice on the other side of the door walked in, styled h/c hair and makeup placed upon her face. She was greeted with Sirius, and a hug pulled tightly into his chest. She saw James looking at them nervously, and she let go of Sirius to hug James tightly.

“You’re going to be okay? I promise.” She stated, pulling apart to look at his hazel eyes, “Lily loves you. Godric, she loves you more than anything!”

“Thanks, Y/n.” James smiled softly, and Y/n pulled her lips to his ear to whisper, “Lily’s liked you since second year.”

James and Y/n laughed as they pulled apart, “But that stays between us!”

“Oi!” Sirius interjected playfully, “Taking my wife, are you?”

“Never.” James replied smiling, all nerves having left, “Thank you both for being here. Seriously it means a lot to me.”

They smiled, “Anytime.”

Someone cracked open the door and spoke, “We need the maid of honor and the best man so we can start.”

“Suppose that’ll be us?” Sirius questioned teasingly, “I think so.” Y/n smiled.

Y/n kissed James’ cheek, “You’ll do fine, and we’ll see you soon.”

“Of course, Mrs.Black.”

Sirius wrapped his arm around Y/n as they walked out to the aisle and altar. Sirius took his spot on the right and Y/n on the left. Smiling at each other from the side, remembering what it was like only a few months ago when they got married. When Lily was in the maid of honor spot and James was in the best man spot. Now roles were reversed.

James stepped out, gaining a reassuring smile from them both. Lily following not too far after with her father. James and Lily looked like lovesick puppies. It was adorable. Vows were exchanged, and tears were shed, especially from James and Lily. On the alter, someone took pictures of the four of them together. Sirius told an absurd joke making them all laugh. A picture was taken at the exact moment.

It was nice. Y/n and Sirius sat at a table together. His arm was around her shoulders as they watched their best friends dance together and laugh together. Sirius took the clips out of his wife’s hair and scratched her scalp, causing her to move into his hand. Multiple hours of clips in Y/n’s hair gave her headache, and Sirius was relieving it.

“Feel nice, love?”

“Yes, these bloody clips. Make sure you save them. I’m going to throw them at Lily later.” Y/n stated, and Sirius chuckled, “Mhm, okay.”

Hours later, James and Lily began to act like fools. Y/n picked up one of the clips from the table, aiming precisely with some help from Sirius - a former Quidditch Beater - and threw it at her. At first, she didn’t notice, but after the third one, she did. The smile on her face was unmistakable.

Lily picked up the three clips and turned toward her maid of honor with her hair down completely. Another one was thrown at her, and Lily laughed loudly. Then one was thrown at Y/n and Sirius. Fortunately, Lily threw it and missed Y/n completely, instead hitting Sirius right in the face. James, Lily, and Y/n were laughing like the only people in the building.

“Oi!” Sirius yelled, “Control your wife, Prongs!”

Y/n stood up, reaching a hand out for Sirius, “C’mon Siri. Let’s go join them.”

Sirius smirked and took her hand, joining their best friend dancing together, jumping around like fifth-year Gryffindors in the common room. They looked like complete idiots, but that didn’t matter. Lily and Y/n holding hands, twirling each other around, laughing together. James and Sirius began to throw the clips at each other. Remus and Peter were on the side watching the idiots.

Lily and Y/n traded. Y/n danced with James, and Lily danced with Sirius. The girls could remember back in sixth year complaining about their boyfriends in the girl's dorms but always remembering that they love their idiots. When the night was over, just the four of them at Godrics Hollow, they just laughed the night away.

“So, Mrs.Potter, how’s it feel?” Y/n teased, “Surprisingly, it feels great.” Lily replied.

“How about you, Mrs.Black?”

“Being married to Sirius is a dream.” Y/n joked, “No, no, but in all seriousness, he’s delightful, sweeter than I imagined.”

Lily’s eyebrows quirked, “What’s he like?”

“Perfect?” Y/n replied, “Does laundry, cooks, cleans, makes my coffee every morning before order stuff?”

“Mother of Merlin! I never would’ve expected-“ Lily exclaimed, “I know! It’s crazy!” Y/n interrupted.

“We got lucky, didn’t we?”

“Indeed we did, sister.”

They clinked their glasses of firewhiskey together. Both girls finally married, finally together. Lily and Y/n hit the motherload with their husbands. Both were gentlemen and chivalry experts. Both girls fell asleep together on the couch, leaving both boys to bring them to bed. Sirius and Y/n in the guest bedroom. James and Lily in their bedroom.

The following morning the four of them woke up. Lily and Y/n were making breakfast while the two men tried to help despite having no knowledge of cooking. Two hours later, breakfast was made and being eaten at the dinner table. Clinks of forks and sounds of chewing were the only sounds coming from the table.

Until Sirius spoke up, “So, how was yesterday, newlyweds?”

“Perfect.” James answered, Sirius then turned to Lily, “Despite everything going on, I think we really needed it.”

Y/n nodded, “Completely agree. It was nice to let loose for a couple of hours.”

The conversation then went quiet, “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.” Said James solemnly.

“Yesterday was great, but what we don’t know is the future, and I know that right now it’s a dark time. It’s probably one of the lowest points I’ve been in my life. My parents being terribly sick, the Dark Lord on the rise supposedly. Everything seems to be going in a downhill spiral.”

“But for the first time in months, yesterday I felt like a first-year at Hogwarts performing my first prank. I felt like that second-year who blew up Y/n’s cauldron for fun. The third-year who decided it’d be a brilliant idea to dye Sirius’ hair pink.” James stated as everyone laughed, “Let’s just say I didn’t have hair for a week.” He murmured.

“Fourth year when I stole Remus’ book, and he nearly killed me. Fifth-year, when I turned into an animagus for Moony. Sixth year when Lily finally decided to give me a chance. Seventh year when we blew up fireworks in the Great Hall for the graduating class of 1978.”

“Not knowing what tomorrow brings leaves us anxious and nervous. But there’s one thing I’m sure of.” James informed, “That if anything ever happens to me, just know, that every second we’ve spent together, every memory we have together, I hold them close to my heart. They all mean something to me. Even if it’s as simple as sitting in the common room together.”

“James-“

“I’m not finished.” He interrupted, “This is a scary time, but I’ve always been certain of one thing, that thing is you guys. You guys have always been constants in my life. Always been there for me through thick and thin. Sirius being my brother, Lily being my wife, and Y/n being the little sister I never got and my shoulder to cry on.”

Y/n chuckled, “Hey!”

“I still love you.” James replied teasingly through his tears, and she smiled, “I know, Prongs.”

“I’ll eventually have to repeat the same speech to Moony and Wormtail, but for right now, I haven’t felt happier. I wanted to say all of this at the wedding, but Lily didn’t want to dampen anyone’s mood, which I understand. Yesterday was a breath of fresh air for what’s to come.”

“But tomorrow, we will all go back to our Order missions and meetings. One thing I can be sure of is that I can always trust you guys, through and through. If for some reason something happens to me, just know I love you guys.”

“We love you too, James.” Lily replied.

Sirius sniffled and smiled through his teary eyes, “Nothing will happen to you guys. Not with me here. You guys have given me too much to let you guys go without a fight.”

“And that’s why we love you, Padfoot.” James stated, smiling at him.

“Everything will be okay. We’ll get through this.” Y/n said with hopeful optimism that would always brighten her friend's days.

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lovely-keii · 3 years

Text

3 Sweet Things With Them

Karasuno

Sawamura Daichi

He gives you a kiss everyday.

He makes sure you don’t do anything stupid.

He makes time for you in his daily schedule.

Sugawara Koushi

He likes to take care of you.

He does a lot of sweet gestures to you.

He’s very attentive about your feelings.

Nishinoya Yuu

Takes you out on random dates.

He’s extremely loyal to you and might even stop talking to every girl if you don’t stop him from doing so.

Studies really hard so that he can improve and help you with your studies.

Yamaguchi Tadashi

If you feel insecure, he’ll reassure you and encourage you.

He has a long list of things he loves about you and things that are amazing about you just in case you feel sad.

Leaves you short but loving messages on sticky notes.

Tsukishima Kei

He holds your hand when you two go out.

He gets easily flustered if you tease him about his love for you.

He’ll make sure you two have constant communication and trust, no matter how hard it gets.

Kageyama Tobio

When you’re sad, he lets you cry on him.

If your love language is physical touch, once he gets accustomed to the affection, there’s gonna be a lot of hugs and kisses.

If you need him, he’ll come running.

Hinata Shoyo

If you’re scared of something, even if he’s also scared shitless, he’ll try to deal with it for you.

He likes surprising you with little gifts or small dates every now and then.

If you’re feeling sad, he’ll come and give you a really warm hug.

Nekoma

Kuroo Tetsurou

If you have periods, he has everything you need.

When you’re sick, he’ll come over to check up on you.

He rarely ever declines going out with you.

Kenma Kozume

He’ll stop playing if you need to talk to him.

He’s a great listener and he listens to you without judgement.

He almost always has great advice for you.

Lev Haiba

Sometimes, he decides to sleep on you.

Wakes you up in the middle of the night to ask if you can get some food because he’s hungry.

Tells you absurd, but, surprisingly, true stories.

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa Tooru

Gives you long hugs when he’s on an away game.

Limits interaction with fans, because you two are dating, out of respect and love for you.

He regularly lets you know that he depends on you and loves you.

Iwaizumi Hajime

It doesn’t matter what time it is, he’ll help you with anything you need help with.

He holds your hand whenever you’re walking outside so he doesn’t lose you.

He takes you on dates you’ll be sure to enjoy because he really thinks it through.

Shiratorizawa

Tendou Satori

He spends a lot of time with you to make sure you’re never lonely.

He likes to get midnight snacks with you.

He talks about the randomest things and always has this little smile when you’re around.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

He makes sure you’re safe all the time.

If you’re someone who likes to text a lot, he’ll reply to every message as soon as possible.

He almost always tries the things you like doing so you two can do it together.

Inarizaki

Miya Atsumu

He spends most of his free time with you.

He loves seeing you laugh.

He’ll talk to you a lot.

Miya Osamu

He cooks food for you all the time.

He makes sure you’re never hungry.

Rest assured, you never leave the house without a snack.

Kita Shinsuke

He has every single date memorized, including anniversaries, birthdays, and even your friends’ birthdays so that he can tell you if you forget.

He’ll clean up for you if you don’t want to.

If you have a hard time in your lessons, he’ll teach you what he can.

Fukurodani

Akaashi Keiji

He checks up on you daily.

He’ll write you a really sweet message at least once a month.

He’s extremely respectful of your personal space.

Bokuto Koutarou

He buys you random gifts at random times.

He completely trusts you and ultimately decides to listen to your advice despite being stubborn.

He likes to compliment you so that you never feel sad about yourself and he means all of them.

Others

Sakusa Kiyoomi

He makes sure you’re clean, not just for his sake but yours.

He’s fully focused when it comes to you.

If you don’t feel well, he’ll make sure you’re treated really well.

Terushima Yuuji

Drunk or sober, he only ever really flirts with you.

He doesn’t hesitate to tell someone off for you.

When you feel bad, he’ll tell you something stupid he did to make you laugh.

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secretbangtnn · 3 years

Text

Best Of Me| Two

Pairings : →ot7 x reader, poly!BTS x reader

Genre : → vampireau, yandere!au, age gap, gore, obsessive behavior, ddlg/caregiver, poly, fantasy, supernaturals

summary : It’s quite unusual to find a little baby on your doorstep, especially that their area was not of the poorest - you could say that a vampire town was efficient with money and snobby creatures. However over time the first idea of just giving back the little girl seems more and more radical and those moody vampires slowly start perceiving deeper feelings to human they even wanted to kill.

previous | next

notes ~ I did it!!! Omg im so happy I finished it, hopefully the next one are going to come sooner. The first chapters are going to be with a baby oc - im sorry if its boring, but after it we can start with the real plot, the things are gonna get dark. Hope that you will like it, and remeber to give me some feedback - im whore for a comments and ask and beside they motivate me very much

taglist :

@missseoulite @gukkculture @silscintilla @the-falling-star @apollonshootafar @mwitsmejk @lovinggalaxies @b-e-t-x-s-o @jisoosbitch @ariverflowsonthemoon @maboiisuga @peachescream1723 @sichajeon

Cries everywhere. Sobbing so loud that all the birds disappeared from their little birdhouse outside the window. And as funny the view was, a big ball of stress and nerves started collecting itself in the rather calm manor. Reason of all this mess was just one, so easy to notice.

“Jungkook!” Just like a ball of nerves now the big ball of dirty blankets and clothes hit the young vampire, making him stumble a little. Obvious disgust on his face with a piece of distaste on his tongue which just a second ago had been caused by the same thing he now fisted in his hands.

“You didn’t have to throw it at me!” Barked Jungkook staring at the broad shoulders of his oldest brother. Child now a little calmer, however still sobbing slightly, keeping the atmosphere at bay.

“You have brung the kid so you will hold the things he made. Be happy that I'm not forcing you to change the diaper instead.”

Disgust on all of their faces is now being something normal, having kids in the same room as them, definitely does not go well with hundred years old vampires. The only one without a gag reflex seems to be Seokjin, acting like a pro mother, just after her 3rd pregnancy with the next on the road. However all of them agreed with the statement that it was all but Jungkook's fault, which came with consequences for said boy.

Thus now sitting on the couch, five of the ramaing vampires, looked with a bored expression at the panicked and nearly vomiting jungkook. Youngest of them always had a soft stomach, never being the one to clean after disasters, forcing people to basically clean after him, and maybe that's why all of them felt such a satisfaction upon them while staring at the shitty situation.

Literally shitty.

Stumbling a little from the intense smell, Jungkook started to try getting rid of the used diaper in his hands, holding it with his fingers dingling it as far from his face as he could. Maybe the smelly object was not the only thing that should be named like a feces, knowing that a person who should just throw the diaper away, purposefully walked closer than intended to a couch with older vampires, stumbling not that accidentally and making the thing in his hand fly straight to a lap of a reading Namjoon.

A moment of silence, only lasting for a short second. Namjoon was never the one to shout or get mad, rather prefering to act calm and well put together, believing in a peace making and solutions not requiring usage of violence but when the heavy baggage on his lap suddenly started to warm his lap, he completely crushed his persona as well as book in his hands.

“Ups...hehe.” Jungkook laughed awkwardly, knowing well his fate. Doe eyes looked at the tall man, standing a little farther than him, just behind the couch. Jaw tightened so were the hands, keeping the last strings of calmness that were floating on very dangerous water.

“Listen, before you actually do something think of the time when you destroyed my ps4 and

I did not even complain.” Hands just before him similar to the way you would to with a wild animal, and in Jungkook's opinion, it was not that far from the truth, observing how Namjoons jaws nearly crushed from the tension.

“Okay okay, we all need to calm down, It was just an accident.” Cut in red head, standing in the middle of the war zone. It was stupid idea, definetly not the brightes of the sunny vampire, even if it came from the good intentions. Hoseok, just like an innocent child that got stuck in a big people argument, was the one that got hurt in the end.

And everybody knew that when Hoseok gets mad it's the extremity that anyone in this room is scared to experience once again. There is silent agreement between the rest of the brothers that was made after one of Hoseok's outburst, promising that no matter what the devil can’t come out.

The apple of discord laying now upon redhead’s feet, innocent like a little kitten that just waits to be petted, but in this case it wasn neither a fluffy ball of fur and definitely not something that should be touched.

Silence so loud, banging in their ears with an uneven breath. Second after second, rest that were not included in the middle, counted sitting on their heels with nerve wracking feelings.They stared as Hoseok’s shoulders rose and went down with each puff of air from his flared nostrils, neither of them dared to move, preferring to stay in a safe zone.

Just as red headed one wanted to take his first kill, a loud laugh echoed in a room, coming from a little child in Seokjin's arms, that probably just came back from being cleaned up. A fresh smile on its face, eyes sparkly looking straight at the scene.

“What are you doing, idiots?” Asked Seokjin, a visible vein on his forehead, sticking out under his free hand that now pinched a bridge of his nose. His eyes catching a glimpse of the used diaper, right on his favorite carpet. “You had one thing to do, one thing Jungkook.”

“It was an accident I swear on my ps4!” He tried explaining, shaking his arms. Seokjin saw to much lived too long to believe it, everybody knew it but even than they acted like bunch of idiots when something like this happen.

“Namjoon destroyed it, you said it yourself.” Spoke Jimin, sitting on a couch with a happy smile, pleased with himself. Younger's head immediately halted in his way, a look of betrayal on his face.

“You midge…”

“I don’t care, just clean it up, in the meantime me with the little snack are going to cook something, right my little cutie?” Cuted the older while caressing the child in his arms, turning his voice in a baby one. And just like this the scene came to the same point, the only difference was that neither Namjoon or Hoseok were in the room, probably running away as fast as Sekojins came.

Jungkook sighed, squatting down to take care of the said thing. Again the disgust and a feeling of nausea hitted him with a side giggles of his blonde haired brother.

Going into the kitchen he spotted the child that looked at him as soon as he appeared. Little smile and sweet laugh, making him soft and mushy for a while.

“I hope you know that you gave us a big problem with bringing a human child there.” Seokjin spoke, not looking from a cutting board, himself to immersed in said action

Jungkook knew, earlier thinking of it like a mere action, something that they can get rid of as fast as a lollipop wrapper. But it was not, and now looking at the kid, he realized how his careless behaviour could weigh down not only on his family but the whole society of vampires.

“I’m-”

“Don’t just apologize, we need to take care of it as fast as we can, in the meantime doing everything to not harm it. If someone finds out it’s going to be a bigger problem, probably even straining the relationship with human - and that’s something we do not want.” Cuted older, in the end turning around pointing the sharp knife on Jungkook.

It was true, the delicate stattlement between those two societies is still new, fresh and hot, ready to burn anyone's fingers, anyones who is to carless. The today is a better world, something that all of the brothers know, remembering dark times - some of them being not older than mere hatchling then. World was a dangerous place to live in, vampires hunting humans, humans hunting vampires, a competition that never got settled, and they hope it never will.

“Try feeding it and come to the living room after you are done. We will discuss the next actions - good luck.” A little wink at the end, Seokjin wiped his hands off on the way patting the younger's back, harder than normally.

“Wait what?! You are not being serious right now, right?” Asked confused Jungkook, fastly turning around to an already disappearing figure. Cold sweat on his body as he looked at the smooth face of the older, that defended a flying kiss to his shocked self. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I can. But the human seems to take a liking to you.” And how absurd it sounded, the baby really looked at Jungkook like some god, sparkly eyes always following his bigger figure.

“Seokjin! Don’t leave me please, I can’t do it.”He whined, looking for the said man, to his luck he was nowhere to be found. It was going to be alright - he tried to believe in those words now clutching baby spoon, that he was sure they did not have, and a mashed food, looking more like dog food than actual meal.

His Eyes staring right into the sparkly and to obnoxious happy, making him even more irritated. In the end, Jungkook hated little children, being and acting like one himself

Little hands stretching towards him with a toothless smile on the side, getting bigger as Jungkook came closer. That was it, taking a big breath he come to the other side of the table - almost touching the stool where the human sat. Ready and determined to get the task done, treating it similar to a quest in the game, he took the little spoon with some of the smashed food, and started to get closer to the child's mouth.

And as the brothers again started to live their normal life, thinking that at least for now, everything is settled, a very obvious squeal shook the while house.

“HYUNG!...IT WANTS TO TOUCH ME! GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY!”

___

All of them now sitting on the couches and armchairs, taking nearly all of the space. Some of the observing the crawling baby with prominent couriousty some of them with disgust even fear, not knowing what future the baby will bring.

Namjoon although feeling the little distaste, knew or better had a plan with what to do.

Smile on his lips not reaching his eyes, however stumbling on the way of eye contact with some of his brothers.

“Okay so, definitely we need to do something with...this.” Said Jimin, look on his face full of distress and disgust resting on the child, that as if it knew of Jimin’s attention looked back full of giggles and reaching hands.

“That is obvious, we can’t keep human child.” Barked Yoongi, the one which rather prefered to stay quiet in those metters.

“Jungkook should take care of it, It’s not my fault he is to stupid to not question a left human on a doorstep.” Smug smile now on Jimin's face, as he gave the side glance to the said male, happy with triggering the younger temper.

“As If you woul…”

“Okay we get it Jimin, it was Jungkook's fault, but still it can affect us all, so try to be at least a little bit helpful or shut up” Interrupted Seokjin staring at both of them in turn. The oldest obviously tired of all of the drama, massaging his scalp, to relieve the tension a little. “Let's start one by one, any ideas?”

Silence, a loud silence throwing the tension to the already burning fire. Seokjin's vein once again appeared on his forehead, making Jungkook nearly knock from a terrifying sight of it. It was pulsating, green and bumpy.

“Maybe let’s put it back?” Asked the quiet voice, Sekojin ready to snap at the stupid idea thinking that some of the youngers don’t know limit of the unfunny jokes, only to find innocent eyes of Hoseok.

“That’s … well that is AN option, thank you Hoseok - keep it up. Any other ideas?” Seokjin’s hands molded into a thump, giving the tired smile to Hoseok, knowing of his still busing nerves.

“Why are we even trying so hard, throw it away i say.” Jimin mumbled while staring at the little child going his way, quickly putting his feet on the couch, scared of a chance of being touched by the human.

Tired sight left mouth of the olders, his vein fading a little - to Jungkook luck, and his hands now clenching his blonde lock. He was helpless, disappointed in his brother's ideas and intelligence. He was sure that, that was indeed an end, his family will be arrested for keeping human, and vampires are going to lose a peace they fighted for.

Everything because Jungkook wanted to take unfamiliar child to their house.

“What about the orphanage that opened like one month ago, can’t we just leave it there?” Cuted Namjoon, making everyone snap their head. Seokjin nearly crying, wanting to kiss his brother as much as choke him for his slow process of thinking.

“Couldn’t you say earlier?!

589 notes · View notes

yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Note

and, if Albedo have his own personal botanist, what about xiao have his own personal chef, or something like that? the reader working at wangshu inn as the chef or maid 👀 (this the request... If you want to make something from this absurd idea 👀👀)

Hehe I like your thought process, anon. Albedo and Xiao really just: 😏👉👉 *finger guns* 👈👈 😑 for having reader assistants in my masterlist huh.

Making this solely a personal chef/maid thing would defo make this response hella short so I added in more info and background just like I did with Albedo's, so I hope you guys end up enjoying this one too!!

It isn't an absurd idea, but I sure as hell made an absurd answer to it kek

Xiao's Devoted "Chef"

Xiao with a Reader who is not only his Personal Chef but assistant

Background (let's gooo)

The arrival of the Adepti Yaksha in Wangshu Inn was really something I've been intrigued about for a while now, but I won't make much assumptions here because his banner is coming and more info would be given to us.

Xiao had long since been residing in and spends a majority of his time in this Inn yet its owners, Verr Goldet and Huai'an, barely knows anything about the adepti or his lifestyle.

So on a sunny, quaint day like any other where calmness passes through the lands without worry, they expected the Adepti to resign himself to a moment of peace and rest too.

So color them surprised when they save the familiar silhouette of the adepti ascending to the top floor. Porcelain white skin and clear tank top glittered with fresh blood as a broken and bruised figure lays unconscious in his arms. The couple was thankful that there were no customers out and about that day, because it would be a disaster for an audience to witness such a thing. Also bad for business, but they'll hold that in at the back of their mind.

Skilled workers were quick to work with their seemingly extensive experience with such a protocol. As they tended to the victim, the Boss stayed behind to tend to and inquire with the Adepti. Yet such a conversation between them came out strained:

There were no visible wounds that require immediate medical attention but there was a look in his eyes that feels much more broken than anything they can fix. Verr's hands hover over him in an attempt to urge him to clean up his still bloodied form. His amber eyes that were usually sharp looks through a distance light-years away.

"Xiao," the woman started and the eyes snapped out of its reverie, subtly looking around to ground himself. "What happened? And are you okay?"

"Their- the parents died from a Hilichurl ambush, I was only able to save the child," his crossed arms gripped at his forearm in the realization of his utter mistake. "32 seconds."

"32 seconds?" The Mondstadtian offered a fresh set of hot towels he had taken, and he had flinched when he saw the carnage that stuck close to his skin.

"I was 32 seconds late."

Your parents were adventurers who brought you with them as big fans of traveling and nomadic lifestyle, no set home yet freely living by. You were in your younger teens and you'd clarified you had no other family to go to.

The death of your parents came as an obvious shock to your young self yet you grieved in silence and sobs, as the only person you trust hovers next to where you rest in silent contemplation.

Verr knows that look, and it was something she hasn't seen on the Adepti before. Of pure guilt and a sense of responsibility.

That night you rested surprisingly nightmare-free as your savior stands his ground next to where you rest.

Present Times

The couple had adopted you into the Inn family without a second's hesitance and you were thankful for them as you were to Xiao. You were no heavy expense or disadvantage and that made it all the more easier to adapt into your new lifestyle.

Despite no words or explanation, you were perfectly aware of the deeds your savior had done to save you and keep you alive, and with that you had sworn to serve him until the end of your time. A life for a life, equivalent exchange.

Coming into terms with being in Liyue and the Inn, your life choices were meddled with commerce and the importance of livelihood. You were young but your guilt of being under the care of such people forced you to take on any and every responsibility you can handle.

Despite your background you were expertly skilled with cooking. Your mother and father always taught you the importance of a meal for adventurers whenever you'd camped out. And your special touch on dishes that saves adventurers had drawn in many appetites.

Business boomed and the Inn wasn't just famous for being a temporary residence, but a sanctuary that offers tastes paired with the divine sense of Celestia. You became Wangshu Inn's Head Chef, with your sous-chef Smiley Yanxiao.

At times where Xiao is forced to make rounds to seize looming threats, he'd find himself picking fresh and healthy ingredients he'd find on the way back and present to you for new recipes to experiment on.

But you also pride yourself with a different title, or titles: The Adepti's Personal Chef, Tender of the Yaksha, Adepti's Devotee.

This title was emphasized by the Sigil of Permission sewn into an armband hanging by your right arm, something you proudly wear even beyond the walls of the Inn.

You found out the Adepti's favorite during your daily visit and breaks, usually done so by hanging out in the balcony with him with a brand new recipe you recently made and wanted to test out.

While he sat parallel to you, he eyed the transparent syrup and the gelatinous substance in the obvious curiousity he shows for all your new creations, silently awaiting your opinion by watching your expression: whenever you show even the slightest distaste, he'll pointedly ignore his curiousity and the dish altogether. And if you express such pride and achievement, his interest will get the better of him, if you haven't offered the dish quickly enough.

"What is this?" He'd finally ask after your delighted moans, indulging on your own creation.

"Mmm, Almond Tofu... do you wish to try it?" Without an answer he'd pick up the only spoon on the plate and tasted it himself. And just like that, he'd froze, eyes full blown in surprise and awe.

"Do you like it?" He can only hum in response as he scarfs down the plate by himself, chewing respectfully yet with a hint of vigor in every scoop. "It tastes... like dreams..." the way he looked at you, with eyes possessing such childlike wonder, you couldn't help but fall.

After that, Xiao had requested a daily plate/offering of it. It became a routine to the point that all workers heard of the favoritism and are encouraged to learn the recipe. But it's usually your dish that is served, unless special occasions calls for someone else.

There has been an influx of dormers and adventurers recently as citizens around Teyvat flock to the Liyue continent in hopes to watch the most extravagant celebration of the new year, the Lantern Rite Festival.

Your best efforts manning the kitchen together with Yanxiao took gruelling hours just to prepare for the dinner's first course even with hours of prep time available. Even both bosses had to lend some hands as your sous-chef can barely keep up with your stride. And after the dishes are finally distributed to the dining hall, you were already set in cleaning up the kitchen, and before you knew it-

"It has been an hour."

"It was a busy day, I'm sorry, Xiao." You could only muster a mumble in guilt as you kept your head down on the usual table, refusing to look at the disapproving expression he definitely wore, except he doesn't. His face has the slightest hints of worry and wonder at your deflated composure.

But his focus now was on the food he has been craving the whole day, already digging into his dessert. And you just tried your hardest not to fall asleep on the cold, wooden tabletop. Until your tummy rumbled through the silence.

A hum. "You haven't eaten?" You shake your head as you lift your head, gazing at the cute sight of your guardian tilting his head to the side in slight distaste for your lifestyle. You open your mouth to retort until you felt the cold utensil touch your bottom lip. "Here, I saved you the last bite. After this, get yourself a meal and retreat to your quarters, I don't want to hear any excuses." He softly urges a little push with the spoon so you get the hint, and you wrap your lips around it, chewing and gulping down cold dessert. He offered his favorite food, used the same spoon, and spoon fed you with it—

"Wha... don't- don't bite the spoon," you squeeze your eyes tight from the embarrassing thoughts in your head.

When people wish to have an audience with Xiao, most of the time they head to you for guidance after inquiring with Verr. They require a sigil of permission, and most of the times, your own sigil has been under fire a lot in their desperation.

An old merchant who desperately wants to hire the adepti to aid his caravan with personal security once tried to claw at your armband, but a split second after the tip of his fingers had touched the cloth, he was blown away to the nearest wall.

"What-," a pressure on your left shoulder pulls your other against a lean chest, protectively squeezing as a polearm materialized in front of you. You can feel the ragged vibrations of the Yaksha's unusually heavy breaths, his amber eyes sharp and dangerous, dilated like a predator.

"What gives you the idea that you had the authority to lay a hand on my assistant?" Black and teal embers conjure around you two as a dark shadow slowly creeps up from the ground. "That is their sigil of permission; I want nothing to do with you mere mortals."

If not for Verr and the other staff, things would have gone gruesome and unsightly for the business. Yes, business. Everyone disliked the guy enough to care more about the Inn than his actual well-being. When he'd come to, he was forced out of the Inn (he would have done so himself anyways as he was already traumatized).

"Sir Xiao, why did you do that?"

"He didn't have a Sigil, he was pretty much asking for it. And why have you gone formal?" You pouted at him and his only response was a quirked eyebrow. Walking over to stand behind him, you slowly wiggled your arms through the gap between his waist and slack arms, finding it easy enough with how thin his waist is as you wrapped him in a hug.

He tensed from the secretly ticklish feeling before letting down his guard in your arms. This was one of your leeway as his most devoted follower. Your constant exposure with the aid of the divine sigil has made you immune to the negative effects of Adeptal energy, enough to make him nigh worry about your safety around him anymore.

And him letting you hug him like this... let's just say it's from your mannerisms of comfort when you were still young and around him.

"Take an indefinite leave," Xiao broke the silence a few minutes after, forcing you to crane your head to the side to look at him. He meets your gaze with an amused glint. "You have no debt to pay here, you shouldn't be holed up in a place like this."

"It is true that me leaving wouldn't have majooor repercussions, but what's with the sudden idea?"

He huffs. "You're my only follower and yet you divide your attention serving temporary mortals that will pass by without remembrance. And besides," you tense at the sight of an upturn on the edge of lip, pearly whites subtly peeking, "personal does not mean sharing."

You were an adventurer at heart and it's time you indulge in that glorified life of excitement, with your guardian by your side. It was the only gift he can come up with for your undying devotion.

Holy - I had to cut this thing A LOT because I wrotE A HECKIN LOT WTF?! It's not even done in my mind, my goodness, there should be an adventuring unit here too but hhhh I got too conscious of the length sksksks I'm so sorry! P-Part 2-?

I enjoyed writing this a tad bit too much sksksks but now that the second to the last installation of this even is published, the next request should be the last one! And that means I'll have to stop the poll and start working on the requests for the 100 followers one! So if you haven't voted there, you should before it's too late!!

#exile.flower #exile.goblet #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact xiao #xiao #xiao x reader #i. fucked up #why do i always go haywire when given a simple prompt #i think this went too far hmm #followers special #gender neutral

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solalunar-eclipse · 3 years

Text

A Gift To Remember

Summary: Shadow receives a gift for his birthday that causes a series of very interesting (and often cute) events.

Word count: about 7500 words

Author’s Note: I didn’t realize today was Shadow’s birthday! At the moment I’m more than a little confused because the release dates for SA2 say everything from the 18th to the 23rd, but this seems to be the one, so here this is!

Also, to that one anon whose question about this fic I never quite managed to answer- sorry about that and I do hope you’re still here to read this!

...

The main room of Team Dark’s home was, on a normal day, at least somewhat clean- which was in and of itself surprising, considering the fact that three teenagers lived there. (It was, of course, slightly less surprising when it was noted that one of these teenagers was a giant robot, one was already a businesswoman, and one had grown up in an incredibly clean environment.)

At the moment, however, said room was currently rather less clean, instead covered in various colorful signs, streamers, balloons, and other such decorations. After all, today was a very special day.

When Shadow and Rouge had discovered they shared a birthday (or creation day for Shadow, technically), they both became infinitely more determined to celebrate it for the other’s sake. This had actually, interestingly enough, also ended up making them enjoy their own festivities more than they had in quite some time.

Omega, meanwhile, had officially decided that this was his favorite day of the year.

Over the past few days, Rouge had already received a few presents from various people she knew in the line of clothes, makeup, or jewelry- but as much as she loved gems, her favorites so far were definitely the ones Omega and Shadow had gotten for her: a laser cutter that could slice through anything and a pair of (stylish) infrared goggles, respectively.

Shadow had just opened his present from Omega, which happened to be a sword that looked very cool...but was also longer than his actual body. This wasn’t actually as big of a problem for him as might be expected, as he’d gotten used to handling weapons several times his size during the alien invasion a little while back.

He had, however, been told rather quickly by Rouge to put it away ‘before you slice the wall in half, this place does cost money, you know!’.

Next, Rouge placed her present in his hands, but at first all Shadow could do was just stare at it. This was likely because the gift wasn’t actually wrapped, but instead consisted of a box made of wood slats and filled, oddly enough, with paper shavings. There were quite a few ribbons on it, though, in an attempt to make up for the lack of other decorations.

“I couldn’t wrap it, or else the present wouldn’t have worked.” she explained, sitting back down to watch him open it.

After prying off the top and shifting aside some of the paper pieces, the hedgehog froze.

Inside, there sat a single white chao egg.

Carefully lifting the egg out of the box, Shadow held it gingerly, as though he were afraid it might try to bite him if he wasn’t gentle enough.

“Rouge…” he began nervously. “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate this, but...are you sure I’m the best person to be taking care of a chao?”

“Of course, hon!” she said. “You’ve taken care of them before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but…” Shadow protested, “...are you sure I’ll be able to do as well at home? The garden is their natural habitat…”

Omega folded his arms. “YOU ARE THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM. OF COURSE YOU CAN RAISE A CHAO.”

“That’s right!” Rouge added. “The chao are always happy when you take care of them- this time isn’t going to be any different.”

“…I suppose so.” Shadow conceded, taking a deep breath. He began to rock the egg slowly from side to side. “Here we go-”

A crack appeared across the pristine white surface. The split spread rapidly while Shadow sat and watched, making sure not to move the egg about much. Chao had to hatch their eggs on their own- it was the way they first began to strengthen themselves.

Rouge laughed. “See? You know exactly what you’re doing!”

Shadow studiously ignored her and continued to focus on the egg. Then, suddenly, a chirp came from inside and the whole top half came flying off.

The hybrid looked at his newborn chao...and his heart (though he’d never admit it) immediately melted. Soft, big eyes gazed up at him, an overjoyed smile on the creature’s face. It cooed happily upon seeing him give a small smile back, and he reached out and began to gently pat its head.

The chao broke into an even wider smile as its eyes closed blissfully, the little sphere above its head popping into a heart. Shadow continued to pet it, offering gentle words of praise, and might have continued like that for the next ten minutes had a camera noise from Omega not made him look up in alarm.

“ADDING IMAGE TO FILE: SHADOW BEING SOFT.” he declared, while Rouge looked on with a giant grin.

“You will do nothing of the sort-” Shadow growled, jumping to his feet, before a soft whimper from his chao stopped him. Its eyes were watery, wide and distressed, and the hybrid immediately scooped it up in his arms, holding it close. It relaxed quickly, snuggling into his chest fluff, and he shot Omega one last semi-serious glower before turning his attention back to the newborn.

Omega promptly took another picture.

…

Later that day, at the party that all of their friends had thrown for them, the chao and Shadow were nearly inseparable. It tended to rest in his lap when he was sitting or rode in between his ears whenever he stood up to get something. Eventually, though, the excitement of a new environment overwhelmed its initial nervousness, which unfortunately led to Shadow returning from the dining room with his hands full of plates of food to discover his chao crawling along the precarious edge of a bookshelf.

Suddenly, the chao’s footing slipped, and Shadow froze, unable to move or do anything- but then Sonic of all people noticed and was already there, leaping up and catching the chao before resting it snugly in his arms. “Looks like someone’s already progressed to the giving-their-owner-a-heart-attack stage, hm?” he asked, smirking at the little creature.

“Thank you.” Shadow said as his chao was returned to him, trying very hard to ignore the way his hands and Sonic’s brushed in the process.

(He’d been nursing a bit of a crush on the hero for a while now, but had decided to ignore it until it wore off. Sonic had admirers from all across the globe vying for his attention- it was absurd to think that anything could happen between them.)

…

Over the coming weeks, all three members of Team Dark made sure to rework their schedules so that someone was always home to watch over the chao- no more climbing on bookcases for the little one now. Shadow did most of the caretaking, feeding, training, cleaning, and providing Chaos Drives (mostly green) to the chao. Rouge did, however, occasionally claim she could ‘handle the extra work’ to give him some spare time and Omega even took it upon himself to watch it every so often.

Sometimes, Shadow and his chao would even cook together in the kitchen (a hobby he’d discovered he enjoyed after finding out that Rouge tended to eat takeout all the time- “You can’t live off that day in and day out- you’re not me, Rouge!”). The sight of a tiny pale blue creature determinedly lifting a bag of flour and flying it across the room was awfully cute- especially after Shadow bought it a tiny apron in what he unconvincingly claimed was an accidental purchase.

Shadow never made accidental purchases.

As much as the hybrid took care of it, though, the chao also seemed to be helping him. He smiled more, glowered less, and generally seemed more tolerant of mistakes than he had been in the past. Nowadays, errors that would once have caused him to go off on a rant or huff about were now met with a calmer ‘it’s okay’ or an offer for help fixing it.

He often laid a hand on it in his sleep or curled around it protectively, and could easily be seen patting its head, carrying it around, or even- when he thought he was alone- nuzzling it gently. The amount of time and care he put into making sure that his chao was happy would have been astonishing to anyone who hadn’t already seen how much he cared about his friends.

It was no surprise then that, before long, Rouge and Omega woke up one morning to find the chao inside a cocoon (and also a very stressed-out Shadow).

The hedgehog promptly called in sick for the entire week- an incredible occurrence for him. He’d originally sworn that since he couldn’t get ill, he’d give his sick days to others when they needed it, but now that was all out the window. He wanted nothing more than to stay home and essentially sit and stare at the cocoon until it hatched.

While the two other members of Team Dark managed to convince him to eat, sleep, and do chores on regular intervals, whenever Shadow had a spare moment he’d stay in his room, watching and waiting. Their friends got so worried that Rouge and Omega had used everything in their power to coax him out of the house twice over those five days, but he refused to do any more. Even then his outings had to come with the promise that they’d both stay home, check it every five minutes, and call him the absolute moment something happened.

On the sixth day of waiting, the cocoon began to hatch while Shadow was attempting to discreetly read out loud to the chao from one of his favorite books. The moment he saw the split, he dropped the novel, jumped up, and shouted louder than he had in months- “Rouge! Omega! It’s HAPPENING!”

He hovered so closely around the cocoon that Omega had to physically pull him back as Rouge reminded him to give the chao more space. Within moments, the split had widened enough for a single black paw to poke out, feeling around carefully for some sort of purchase to pull itself the rest of the way outside. Soon enough, it had succeeded, earning- impressively enough- widened eyes from Omega and a gasp from both Shadow and Rouge.

Frowning light blue eyes were set in an equally grumpy (albeit adorable) face, with two little black ears and three tiny quills on the chao’s head. The ears and quills both had red stripes, as did the arms, legs, and even its tail. A red crescent shape sat on its chest, and two tiny purple bat wings flapped slowly behind it.

In short, it looked a lot like a tiny Shadow.

The hedgehog in question reached out carefully and began to pet his chao, offering some quiet words of praise, but before long it flew up and settled in its favorite spot in between his ears. When Shadow turned around to face his friends, they were met with the sight of a little glowering creature settled on top of his head…which really did look far too similar to the hybrid himself when he was irritated.

Rouge covered a smile with both of her hands. “Shadow...hon…”

He frowned at her, only serving to make the resemblance more obvious. “What?”

“It looks exactly like you!”

“Not really- it has blue eyes and...bat wings…” He looked up at her suddenly. “Rouge...how much time have you been spending with Spark again?”

“Oh, just a little- wait, Spark?” she said quickly, redirecting his attention.

Shadow flushed a bright green at that. “I might’ve already picked out a name...does it sound alright?” he asked, studiously looking anywhere but at his friends.

The chao chirped at the name and snuggled a little further into the fur on his head, seemingly pleased with the title.

He began to smile at that. “You like that name, do you?” he asked teasingly.

“It sure looks like it! I think it’s a lovely name, hon.” Rouge added.

The chao cooed, cementing its name with all of the team (whether Omega would admit it or not).

Now, if anything, Shadow and his chao were even more close than before. Rouge even bought it a tiny leather jacket to match his style, which was quickly deemed by everyone (especially their friends, to whom she’d sent about fifty photos) the most adorable thing ever.

...

One day, Shadow came home from lunch out with Silver and Blaze only to discover a quite unexpected scene- though he really should have seen it coming, considering what he’d noticed after his chao had hatched. Rouge was kneeling next to the sofa, scratching Spark behind the ears and saying in what could only be described as a baby voice, “Who’s your favorite momma? Me, that’s right. That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Uh….” he interrupted, feeling more than a little uncertain as to how to respond to this. He was torn between “I didn’t know you had a baby voice” and “I’m glad to see you and Spark getting along” and wasn’t entirely sure which one to go with here.

The bat, on the other hand, jumped a good three feet in the air at the sound before glaring at Shadow furiously. “Don’t startle me like that!” she shouted, more than a little tense...and also a bit worried?

The hybrid didn’t react, instead saying “It’s nice to see you spending time with Spark too, Rouge.” with a smile.

She relaxed a little at that, and Shadow sighed. “Rouge, I wouldn’t make fun of you- I do the same kind of thing, don’t I?”

“You’re right, you’re right.” the bat admitted. “I just had to! It looks like me- it even has my wings! How could I not?”

Shadow moved to sit down on the sofa at that, reaching out to pat the chao as well. Rouge smiled at him gratefully, and then they both looked down at the cute creature in between them, who was promptly staring up at both with a confused look on its face. After a moment, though, it seemed to realize that everything was alright and nuzzled both Mobians before curling up on the couch happily.

…

Another time, the entire team was out grocery shopping at their favorite store when Spark’s eye was caught by the soft, warm cinnamon buns sitting behind a glass case. After a minute or two of desperate pulling at the seams- to no avail- it flew over to Shadow and began to poke at his shoulder until he turned to look at it.

“Yes? What is it?” he asked, giving the chao a little scratch under the chin.

The chao pointed excitedly at the sweet treats, but its expression melted into one of dismay upon hearing him say “No, Spark, that’s not very good for you- and it’s too big for you to finish all by yourself, too.”

It mimed a clock insistently- they didn’t go to the store that often, after all- its frown deepening all the while. Shadow felt a little uncertain- he enjoyed giving the chao treats, but was now really the best time to feed it so much sugar? It could end up flying all over the place, and he really didn’t feel like getting banned from yet another grocery store. (The last one had been because Omega got a little too excited while messing around with the shopping cart and had melted it and twisted it into a knot...somehow. They were rapidly escorted out after that.)

Suddenly, though, the chao shuffled forward, took one of his fingers in between its tiny paws, and stared up at him with the softest, most pleading look it could possibly manage, its eyes wide and mouth quivering. “No...no, come on…” Shadow protested weakly, but already his resistance was melting away. It practically seemed to be saying haven’t I been good all week? Can’t I please just have this one treat? and the hybrid was in no condition to fight back.

Within moments, Spark was holding a cinnamon roll and dug into it with glee, only pausing once to nuzzle Shadow happily and offer him a quick bite as thanks. He accepted the gesture of appreciation easily (even though now his face had sugar on it after the chao’s affectionate thank-you) and was more than happy to see his chao smiling broadly with the treat in its hands.

…

The chao was, of course, still a great help to Shadow as well. One night in particular, it woke up to the sounds of quiet whimpering and began to look around, startled. For a moment, it turned to its caretaker for help- and then discovered that he was the one in trouble.

Shadow was curled up on his side, his brow creased in distress and his whole body shaking terribly. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and occasionally the most terribly saddening sounds would escape his mouth. Once or twice, a tear escaped and trickled down his face.

Spark crawled up to his face gently, licking away the tear and nuzzling his cheek. Shadow shuddered briefly, but seemed to relax almost infinitesimally when the dark chao pressed itself against his chest for a moment. Eventually, the creature managed to get him to roll onto his back, at which point it crawled onto his chest, hoping that this would help him begin to relax.

It really did work- within moments, the small, warm weight on his chest made Shadow’s breathing even out and his shivers ease as the nightmare that was plaguing him began to fade.

Spark curled up, pleased with itself, and fell back asleep not long after.

…

There was just one problem amongst all this newly-discovered happiness that came with the chao. Ever since it had evolved out of its cocoon, Omega seemed as though he were hardly willing to interact with it.

Rouge or Shadow would hand it over to him, only to get it back less than a minute later. He spent the least amount of time with it out of the three, but when he was asked if he didn’t like the chao, he never said as much.

Omega didn’t tend to lie...but then why wouldn’t he do anything with it?

Once or twice, they’d caught him merely staring at Spark as the little creature sat on the couch, his optics clicking but otherwise utterly silent. The two Mobians hardly knew what to make of it- he’d never acted like this before.

They finally had the opportunity to discover why he was behaving strangely several days later, though, entirely due to an accident on Shadow’s part. Rouge and Omega had been answering a distress call regarding some rogue G.U.N. robots and needed to call in the hybrid to help. He’d driven his motorbike directly to the scene and leapt straight into battle…

...and hadn’t noticed Spark peeking out of the bag he’d left on his bike.

The chao- while fast, to be sure- was in no way prepared for a full-on battle. While at first it had hoped to help its little family, flying about uncertainly in hopes of doing something, it quickly discovered that the only thing it could really do was to hide behind an upended concrete slab and hope it wasn’t noticed.

That, unfortunately, didn’t quite work out.

It didn’t take long before one of the rogue drones spotted a fourth heat signature aside from the three it was fighting and began to stalk towards it, charging its laser cannon in the process. Shadow, confused at first, felt his stomach drop in horror upon seeing his tiny chao shaking in fear as the machine advanced on its hiding spot. He hadn’t thought to bring a Chaos Emerald, believing this would be an easy battle- and Rouge was busy in the air.

The laser cannon on the drone was almost fully charged, and Shadow fired up his skates in a futile attempt to somehow reach Spark before-

A white hot blast lit up the area.

Shadow couldn’t have stopped the strangled cry that came from his mouth if he had wanted to. The smoke began to clear, and he almost couldn’t look…

Something stirred within the haze, and as it cleared away, Shadow felt his whole body sag with relief upon seeing Omega shifting to an upright position from where he’d shielded the chao with the back of his chassis, blocking the full force of the laser. He let out a sigh as he caught a glimpse of Spark held safely in Omega’s hand as the other one retracted to reveal a flamethrower.

“MY TURN.”

Within moments, the drone was just so much melted slag on the floor and the battle’s tide was turned. Shadow and Rouge dispatched the other robots and then rushed to Omega, who had held onto the chao this entire time.

“Omega...thank you.” Shadow said, taking Spark from his friend and holding it tightly.

“IT WAS- zzzt- NOTHING.” Omega said, a sudden staticky buzz splitting his sentence in two.

“Omega?” Rouge asked, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you?”

“NOTHING.” he said hurriedly, his voice still glitching. “WAIT- DON’T YOU D-DARE-”

The three had already begun looking to see what had happened...but then froze when they saw the damage his back panel had taken while shielding Spark from the blast. A giant, smoking hole of warped and fused metal was burned into his chassis, revealing a bunch of melted and sparking wiring that definitely needed urgent attention.

“Omega…” Shadow looked horrified.

Rouge frowned, confused. “Why would you do this to yourself? I know how much you hate having to go get repairs.”

The robot let out a burst of static that sounded almost like a resigned sigh. Turning around, he muttered, “IT’S LI-LITERALLY YOU. AND ROUGE. BUT TINY. THAT APPEARS TO HAVE… STRANGE EFFECTS- zzzt- ON MY BEHAVIOR.”

“Do you...not like those effects?” Rouge asked, now clearly shifting into ‘I’m figuring things out’ mode. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding it so often?”

“I AM A ROBOT OF MASS DESTRUCTION. I AM NOT SUPPOSED TO CARE FOR TINY CREATURES SUCH AS THIS ONE. I SHOULD NOT FEEL ANY ‘WORRY’ ABOUT IT- AND YET-” Omega cut off there with a frustrated crackle.

Shadow still didn’t understand. “You’ve always been a robot of mass destruction, but you never thought it was weird to worry about us before.”

“THAT WAS DIFFERENT!” Omega insisted. “YOU BOTH ARE POWERFUL. IT IS NATURAL THAT RESPECT AND CONSEQUENTLY OTHER THINGS SHOULD COME FROM THAT. BUT THIS-! IT HAS NO DESTRUCTIVE QUALITIES! BUT STILL I...YOU KNOW...”

“It’s official, Omega.” Rouge said at that, a smirk growing on her face. “You’re becoming more and more like us...organics are always weak for cute things.”

“IT IS SHAMEFUL THAT I SHOULD COME TO THIS.” he grumbled.

“It’s not so bad, really.” Shadow said, placing a hand on his arm.

“And that’s coming from the guy who never used to admit he cares about people!” Rouge insisted. “Omega, you know you don’t have to be embarrassed about that kind of thing here- you’d never make fun of Shadow for not being tough all the time, would you?”

“I GUESS NOT…” he said, still seeming irritated.

At this point, Spark flew up to sit in Omega’s hand, looking up at the robot with its little frowning face, before reaching out and patting a single finger solemnly with its paw.

“OH NO.”

“Oh yes.” Rouge answered, grinning. “Let’s get you to Tails now though, okay? Then once you’re fixed up you can come home and pet the chao.”

Omega turned his head away and refused to dignify that with a response.

(He did, however, pet the chao when he got home. Nobody teased him about it, for which- while he’d never say it- he was rather grateful.)

…

It was inevitable, eventually, that Team Dark’s schedule wouldn’t be perfect and that they’d all have to be out and busy at some point. This, of course, meant that Spark would have to be dropped off at the chao daycare.

Shadow had managed to force himself to reconcile with that fact, but the chao wasn’t nearly as good at that sort of thing.

On the day of, it was sobbing desperately, clinging to Shadow’s jacket with a tight grip as though it’d been handed a horrible punishment instead of a day spent at the warm, welcoming building in front of it. “It’s going to be alright. You’ll be okay, it’s just for a day. See, the Mobians who run it are very nice- won’t you look?” the hybrid whispered in a soothing voice, gently rubbing Spark’s head.

Omega stepped forward. “DON’T YOU...WANT TO SHOW HOW BRAVE YOU CAN BE?” he said awkwardly. Talking to the chao was still taking some getting used to for him, but he was definitely trying his best.

Rouge smiled warmly at that. “Of course! We’ll all be so proud of you, don’t you know that?”

“We can make a cake especially for you when you get home too, alright?” Shadow said, and that was the final thing the chao needed to hear. Wiping its eyes with a final few sniffles, it flew over to the little walkway towards the entrance and stood up tall, its body shaking slightly with leftover stress and its attempts not to cry.

“We love you!” Rouge called, blowing it a quick kiss.

“See you soon.” Shadow said gently, waving with a smile.

“YOU’LL BE THE BEST ONE THERE.” Omega added, shuffling in place a little.

The chao whimpered briefly, but then turned away and bounded into the daycare before it could lose its nerve.

Throughout the morning, it remained relatively antisocial- a bit like the hedgehog whose appearance it had taken- during the music and karate lessons. The other chao all babbled and played together, being mostly neutral and hero-types, and the few dark chao that were there wanted to cause an awful lot more trouble than Spark was in the mood for.

One thing that it noticed very clearly, though, was the extraordinarily frustrating presence of a royal blue hero and speed-type chao.

This chao didn’t seem to think even once (let alone twice) about anything it did. It banged on the drums until Spark’s ears were sore during music class and then somehow managed to smack it in the face during karate lessons twice, and all the while it chatted away with about five other chao all around it.

Needless to say, by midday, when it was playtime, Spark had just about had enough.

When the blue chao rushed directly through the little sand city that it had been carefully building, swiping everything away with a single dash, Spark growled, picked up the plastic shovel it had been playing with, and threw it so hard it whacked the other creature in the arm.

Snarling, it began to stomp off when it felt a hand on its shoulder. The blue chao darted away and began hurriedly to try and rebuild the city, occasionally glancing up at Spark with an apologetic expression in its eyes.

It...looked awfully sad, actually.

Suddenly, the dark chao remembered how it had quickly stopped banging on the drums when the teacher had told it to, and how it had looked rather guilty when it had smacked Spark in the face, and how excited it was when talking with the other chao…

Maybe it was just a little clumsy sometimes.

Spark sighed a little. The other meant well, it decided, as its anger began to fade. It appreciated the apology...but now the sculptures were gone and it couldn’t get them back. Then, though, its gaze fell upon a pair of toy cars sitting nearby.

Pulling the blue chao over to a strip of flat, packed earth nearby, it gave one car to its surprised companion and then set its own down at a line that could work quite well as the start of a race.

Soon enough, the other creature worked out the idea and began to cheer with delight, and before long they were racing cars like they’d been friends since the start. Eventually, they even switched to running races themselves, over and over again until they were all worn out and collapsed on the cool grass in a heap. Before long, though, they were up and at it again, only this time they started with a building game, and then had a little fun with the musical instruments, and soon enough Spark couldn’t help but wonder how they had ever fought in the first place.

Eventually, they decided that their next activity would be a race to the top of the jungle gym they noticed nearby. Spark was determined not to lose as it scrambled up the bars. It pulled itself paw over paw up the structure, getting closer and closer to the top, until-

Suddenly, a bar that it had been sure existed in front of it only a moment ago was now clearly just a little too far away, and the mistake caused it to reel forward, desperately clinging to the slippery bar it sat on. It twisted head over heels until it slid and fell all the way back to the ground, the wind slammed forcefully out of its little lungs.

Spark gasped soundlessly, trying and failing to pull air back into itself. After several agonizing seconds, it finally caught its breath- and then nearly got it knocked back out again by the impact of its new friend.

Regaining focus, the dark chao realized with a start that its friend was practically wailing into its chest, the soft blue creature shaking with desperate, panicked sobs. It looked up quickly, its eyes swollen and teary, and then reached out with its paws and hurriedly patted Spark’s body down, as though to reassure itself that the dark chao was still there.

The creature in question sat up and pulled its friend into a tight hug, feeling nothing less than awful as the blue chao sniffled and whimpered worriedly in its arms. Eventually, it managed to calm down enough to amble over to a small nest made of blankets especially for tired chao and lay down there next to Spark. The two chao curled up together, nuzzling gently as the shaky breaths of the blue one finally evened out.

Spark felt the little ball over its head pop into a heart shape, and noticed briefly that its friend had done the same. They remained curled up like that for the last half-hour or so of their time in the daycare, alternately simply cuddling or talking about their respective owners.

Spark hoped they’d get to spend more time with this friend of theirs soon.

…

Shadow pulled up to the daycare on his motorcycle at closing time, doing his best to smooth out his frazzled quills. It wouldn’t be very good to let his chao know that he’d been nearly as worried about it as it had felt itself.

He sighed, making his way towards the entrance of the building- and instantly felt the last wisps of his composure vanish upon seeing Sonic standing just inside. Before he could panic and flee the area at top speed, his legs (which didn’t seem to have received the message just yet) carried him through the door and inside.

Almost immediately, the blue hedgehog turned to face him with a bright smile. “Oh! Hey, Shadow!” Sonic said happily. “I didn’t know you brought your chao here, too! I’ve gotta say hi to the little guy again sometime!”

“This is my first time bringing it here. If it’s alright with that…I suppose you may.” the hybrid said, trying his best to sound coherent and cool (but actually just seeming stiff and awkward).

They talked for a little while as they waited for their chao to come out, chatting about their lives and friends. More than once, Shadow had to pinch himself in order to stay focused. His mind kept threatening to wander off into dreamland when he was around the hero, ready to admire his many great qualities (and wonderful appearance) at the drop of a hat.

Eventually, though, he became a bit worried by the fact that chao after chao were wandering out through the playroom door, being collected, and leaving…but neither Spark nor Sonic’s chao had even showed up. Soon enough, the two decided to walk into the room and find their tiny charges themselves.

“Uh, hi, mixter!” Sonic greeted the leopard who ran the daycare. “Didja see my lil’ buddy somewhere around here?”

“Oh, hello Sonic!” they said brightly- clearly the hero had been to this place quite a few times before. “Yes, your chao is over there in that nest there, sorry. I just hated to disturb those two…”

Shadow frowned. Those two?

His question was promptly answered when Sonic whisked aside the blanket covering the nest, only for both of them to stare at the sight inside.

Two purring chao, one clearly Sonic’s and the other obviously Shadow’s, were snuggled up together with big hearts floating over their heads. Even the hybrid’s dark chao, notorious for its ever-present frown, looked completely at peace with a small smile on its face.

He tried his best not to freak out.

“Erm…” Shadow began eloquently.

“Uh…” Sonic replied.

The two chao perked up at this, looking happily at their owners before nuzzling gently together in a manner that made Shadow’s stomach leap into his throat and then crash straight through the floor. In a further twist (both in events and in the striped hedgehog’s internal organs), Sonic’s chao then leapt happily into his arms, leaving Shadow to stare at the tiny version of his crush cuddling into his chest fur.

He sincerely hoped there was a convenient couch nearby for him to sit down on.

“Blu- come on-” Sonic began, looking oddly panicked for some reason, but then Spark sprang eagerly onto his shoulder and the hero rapidly fell silent as the dark chao nudged his cheek.

The two hedgehogs stared at each other for a long time. Shadow tried to move or do something other than just stand there, but it was awfully difficult when the hero was looking at him with those wide, soft green eyes….

“Er…Sonic?” Shadow finally choked out, in an odd, strained sort of tone.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’d like my chao back now.”

“Yeah.”

They each handed over their respective creatures, though Shadow felt rather reluctant to let such a tiny version of Sonic out of his arms. And for a moment he could almost have sworn that the hero held Spark a little longer than necessary, too…

…

Once he got home, the hybrid collapsed onto the couch and covered his eyes briefly with a hand. Spark, who had at first rushed into the kitchen (not having forgotten the promise of cake), came back and began to tug on his arm briefly before realizing that maybe Shadow wasn’t quite up to doing much of anything at the moment.

Rouge and Omega walked in just a moment later, their work having ended a little after Shadow’s. Upon seeing him slumped on the furniture, though, their greetings were cut short and instead replaced by worried questions.

Shadow sighed. “Spark...just spent a bunch of time cuddling with Sonic’s chao. And he noticed.”

“And that’s a good thing, hon.” Rouge shot back, having resisted a facepalm the moment she realized what all this was about.

“It is not!” the hedgehog cried out, before realizing that Spark was more than a little stressed by his tone of voice. “I’m not mad at you, don’t worry, it’s just...I already make enough of a fool of myself around him on my own. He’ll figure it out soon enough if we keep this up.”

“SO LET HIM.” Omega said. “EITHER HE STARTS DATING YOU OR HE’S AN IDIOT.”

Shadow blushed furiously. “It doesn’t work like that!”

“EXCEPT WHEN IT DOES.”

“Why don’t you tell him, hon?” Rouge asked. “I mean…” and here she developed a devious smile, “...didn’t his chao technically also act all affectionate with yours?”

The hybrid’s ears were bright green by now. “He’s nice to everyone, Rouge.”

At this point, Spark- who had left temporarily to get a pencil and paper- held up a drawing it had made of the scene at the jungle gym earlier. Shadow, of course, immediately began fussing over his chao, checking for any bruises or scrapes, but the bat in particular saw something entirely different.

“Kinda...reminds me of what happened on Space Colony ARK.” she mused.

Shadow’s head shot up at that. “What?”

Rouge smirked, but it was bittersweet this time. “Your fall...it really hurt him too, y’know? He didn’t go out in public for a long time after that.”

“He...he never mentioned that to me…”

“He wouldn’t have!” she said. “Sonic isn’t the type to ‘bother’ others with his feelings.” Rouge explained, doing air quotes at one point.

“HE ALSO STARES AT YOU WHEN YOU ARE NOT LOOKING.”

“He what?!” By now Shadow had been reduced to just looking back and forth between his two friends.

Spark flew in front of Shadow’s face and began to mime something. First pointing at Shadow, then a heart, then talking, then a hedgehog with all its quills pointed down…

“No! I can’t just tell him!”

“We’re hanging out with his team next week at the park- you should do it then.” Rouge replied, ignoring the last thing he’d just said.

“Did you not hear me, I can’t-”

“YOU WILL NEED SOMETHING NICE TO WEAR.” Omega said loudly over the rest of his sentence.

Spark cheered approvingly.

“So...you three have just decided for me whether or not I’m going to confess to Sonic.” Shadow sighed, beginning to resign himself to the fact.

“Absolutely, hon!” Rouge said brightly, slipping an arm around his shoulders.

He glowered at all three of them, but it lacked any real malice. “Alright, I’ll play along...for now.” he grumbled.

“EXCELLENT. LET THE PLANNING COMMENCE.”

…

One week later, Shadow was standing in the middle of a patch of grass, feeling like his knees were about to buckle as sweat trickled through his quills. He was no longer resigned to telling Sonic about his feelings and was in fact considering jumping into the nearby lake and hiding there for the duration of the hangout. His stomach- along with whatever scraps of resolve he may have had- were currently all the way back at their house.

On top of all that, he was frankly surprised he didn’t just spontaneously burst into flames when the other three Mobians showed up, Sonic in the lead.

“Hey guys!” he said excitedly. “Long time no see!”

Rouge snickered a bit at his catchphrase (it was one of many) but Shadow just felt his ears burn. He was just so cute and cheesy and already the hybrid’s mind was devolving into a mushy mess.

“Rouge, Omega.” he greeted them each, but he seemed to pause for a second on the last name. “...Shadow.”

The hedgehog in question thankfully managed a reply, and then the fun began in earnest. Knuckles and Shadow competed in several arm-wrestling matches with narration from Tails (“...aaaand Knuckles looks like he’s in the lead!”) and commentary from Omega (“YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T ARM-WRESTLE OR ELSE BOTH OF YOUR ARMS WOULD BE BROKEN.”). Rouge and Sonic were busy pranking other innocent people, though once in a while the latter would look over at the competition, distracted.

Eventually, Tails and Omega got bored- which of course meant Knuckles and Shadow had to play the role of caretaker (“No, you can’t blow up trees. No, not even for ‘science’.”) for a little while.

At one point, though, Rouge got bored with the pranks and had dragged the echidna off to a park bench and was now flirting with him enough to turn his face as red as his spines. Tails had promised to behave- which now meant that he was halfheartedly attempting to convince Omega not to modify his cannon to launch ducks from the nearby pond- leaving Sonic and Shadow to themselves. Blu and Spark had been playing in the grass all this time (since both of them had brought their chao without really realizing that the other would do the same), and Shadow had very definitely not been thinking about how lucky his chao was that emotions were easy for it.

He remembered the talk his friends had given him before this outing then and wondered if maybe, just maybe, it could be that easy. Before he could stop himself, he’d already spoken.

“...Sonic?”

“Yeah?” the hero asked, turning to face Shadow.

“I...wanted to talk to you about something.” he said, regretting everything already because look how stupid he was about to seem...yet Shadow Robotnik the Hedgehog had never been one to do things by halves.

“Oh, really?” Sonic said, and now he almost looked relieved, for some reason. “I, uh, was actually hoping to do the same. That’s cool, what is it?”

“No, no, you go first.” Shadow urged him, hoping that he’d take the offer.

Unfortunately, today was not his lucky day. “No, man, you asked first! Go ahead, what was it?”

“Really- it’s fine.”

“No, you had something you wanted to say!” Sonic insisted.

“It’s okay, I swear-”

“Well, I guess-”

“I mean, if you want-”

“Okay-”

“You see-”

“I like you!”

Both hedgehogs shouted the words at the exact same time, before freezing and staring at each other.

“Wait…” Shadow began.

Sonic’s eyes were wide. “You like me back?!?” he gasped, hands flying up to his mouth.

“...yes.” he admitted, looking off to the side in embarrassment. Then it hit him. “Wait. You like me back?”

“Of course! How could I not?” Sonic asked incredulously. “You’re smart, funny, nice-” He’d begun listing off attributes while counting on his fingers, but cut himself off upon noticing Shadow’s confusion.

“Yes, but you’re a hero. The world’s hero.” Shadow began to frown, staring at the grass. “Why would you settle for someone like-”

“No.” Sonic growled, and the hybrid looked up suddenly to see his face twisted in anger. “Don’t ever say that.”

“But everyone thinks it…” Shadow protested weakly.

“Yeah, well, ‘everyone’ isn’t part of my love life.” Sonic assumed a slightly less aggressive stance, placing a hand on his hip. “Whoever’s been telling you that can either leave you alone or get their face introduced to my sneakers.”

Shadow blushed. “Nobody needed to. I just assumed...but perhaps I shouldn’t have.” he added quickly, seeing the hero begin to glower again.

“That’s right!” he said, zipping over to stand directly in front of Shadow. “No assumptions here- talk to me from now on if something’s worryin’ you, ‘kay?”

Then, he seemed to notice the sudden stiffness in the hybrid’s posture, as well as the green flush slowly creeping up his ears. Sonic leaned forward with a smirk, resting his forearm on Shadow’s shoulder. “Thinkin’ about something?”

Shadow gulped.

For once, he decided that he could do what he wanted. So, he slowly reached up a hand and touched the peach fur on Sonic’s arm gently, like it was the most delicate thing in the world.

Rather more quickly, Sonic turned a shade of bright red to rival Omega’s paint job.

“So, uh…” he began, his voice shaky. “Erm...do ya feel like sitting under that tree? Together?”

Shadow agreed, and the two walked over to the shady patch, sitting down and resting against each other. Soon enough, though, Sonic turned to face Shadow, a little nervous. “Do we, like, need to talk about this? Figure out...what to do about…us?” He started turning pink again.

“Maybe later. We have a lot of time, after all.” Shadow said, trying to contain the soaring feeling inside when Sonic said ‘us’- until he realized that he didn’t have to any longer.

“What’re you smiling about?”

“You. And me. Together.” Shadow said simply, making Sonic laugh and snuggle up against him, resting his head on a black-furred shoulder.

“Wow. That’s, uh….that’s new. I really like it though.”

Then, the hero looked up at him. “I really like you, too.”

At this point, a loud whistle could be heard from Rouge, who was standing not too far off and had likely heard a lot of what they’d said. Sonic just giggled, while Shadow shot her a death glare. She just winked and mouthed I’ll keep them occupied, at which point the hybrid tried not to show how very much he appreciated that and failed miserably.

And Sonic was purring now. Which of course meant that every single brain cell in Shadow’s head was promptly dead for the next five minutes.

After he’d recovered from that, Shadow wrapped his arms tightly around his...boyfriend? Maybe? He thought for a moment. “Hey, Sonic?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you feel about being my-” Shadow paused briefly to cough, trying to get the words out- “-boyfriend?”

“I think I like that a lot.”

Shadow smiled warmly, feeling the beginnings of a purr rise up in his own chest.

“I like that a lot, too. Almost as much as I like you.”

#shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat #e 123 omega #sonic the hedgehog #happy birthday shadow and rouge!!#these two are the best #i swear i panicked when i realized that their birthday was today and not the 21st haha #me: has never actually fully raised a chao in-game #also me: *throws in made-up chao facts like i know what i'm talking about*#also all names for shadow's chao are valid this is just the one that i personally picked #hopefully everyone enjoyed being blasted by 7500 words of fluff :)#(and hurt/comfort of course)#i liked writing the part where it was like #blu and spark: *speedrun enemies to friends*#sonic and shadow: *PANIC*#just checking: is the term 'mixter' alright for a lengthened version of 'mx.'? i've seen it before but don't know for sure #this is my second attempt writing proper sonadow hopefully it was alright #:D #as always suggestions for how to improve my writing are more than appreciated!#sol's fanfiction

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fascination-street-writing · 3 years

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Steadily Emerging with Grace | La Squadra x Ghost!Reader

He opens his mouth to speak again, but nothing comes, for his eyes have fallen to the bruises upon your skin, and your pretty terry dress that seems a decade out of fashion. It was never a secret to any of the men from La Squadra di Esecuzioni - or rather, to anyone who has lived in Napoli long enough - that a young women fitting your description was murdered within the very confines of these walls.

It is an absurd thought to believe in ghosts - but then again, so are the existence of Stands.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece II for @elxzyy -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Murder, Past Domestic Violence, Religious Imagery, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Masturbation, & Implied Sexual Content

You were born in 1959: the same year that Ethel Merman took to the stage for her last Broadway production in America, and when Miles Davis released his hit album Kind of Blue; you remember the latter fondly, for it reminds you of weekend car rides to the beaches with your parents – it was, after all, your father’s favorite cassette tape.

At age twenty-two, not long after the discovery of the ever-elusive propaganda due of Milano – headed by Licio Gelli –, you were murdered in the not-so comforts of your own home in Vivo Pallonetto Santa Chiara by a troubled lover who had found his consolation in nose candy and cognac.

You faced death with buoyancy. The afterlife will not be so bad, you had thought. But there was no light, no stairway to heaven, and no pearly gates; only inescapable solitude, and utter loneliness. Your former lover faced no vindication, because having family in the court system paid off. To the public, you were the victim of nothing more than an attempted robbery, gone horribly wrong.

And so, you linger on this plain of the earth with little more to do than watching birds through the panes of the window glass during the day and counting the stars at night. The rumors of a woman’s ghost – your ghost – who haunts this gloomy residence has kept it away from the claws of real estate tycoons. It is true that joggers hold their heads down as they pass, and dogs bark at your face through the crackling windows; school children have dared each other to spend the night inside, but never could get past the boarded front door without being shooed away by pesky neighbors or authorities.

Dust collects on pieces of discarded furniture that you had accumulated from thrift stores and porch sales during your brief stint as a renter. The buffet table beside the front door, which you used to use as a makeshift shelf for wine bottles, had belonged to your grandmother, however. And when that door finally opens for the first time in these lost years that you cannot recall, the knob brushes against an emptied bottle for holding flowers and sends it to the ground with a splintering thud.

It startles you, and though your mind races with questions that will only be answered in due time, you vanish from your perch at the window. Cool air rushes through from the opening; you have forgotten what life smelled like. Surely, you had not expected that the first living being to grace you with their presence once more would be a man of such intimidating stature.

Silver hair, red eyes, and black sclera: if not for your contemptuous curiosity, you might think him to be an angel of death. You follow him through the creaking halls and neglected rooms, waiting for the moment when he will stretch his hand to you for the taking and lead you beyond this world.

The thundering tone of his voice might have been a trumpet’s call if it were true. Before the threshold of the room wherein you met your fate, he stops.

“Leave.”

You frown, but surely you ought to do as he says. He is an angel, after all.

You learn from the calendar hanging above Risotto’s desk – as you have discovered to be the silver-haired man’s name – that it is now the nineties. You do not dwell over how long it has been since your death, because it changes nothing. Your home is full of life again, for that it what it has truly become – a home.

With the passing of time, they come and go, these new men who have taken up residence here. You hide in shadows and observe them as if they are a living depiction of a sitcom and you their only audience member. Talks of assassinations, blood splatters on the carpets, and mysterious wounds from the outside world never bother you anymore. You adore each man for his own endearing ways, but what is more, you admire them for what they are.

A family – albeit an unconventional one.

And so, prompted by perhaps your own desire to fulfill your need of stolen domesticity and a sense of belonging again, you spend your days tending to them; without their knowledge, of course, as you have never made your presence known after the day you first found Risotto. From cooking meals when Prosciutto is too tired to do it himself, or folding the clean laundry that otherwise gets tossed over desk chairs – of which Formaggio is the biggest perpetrator; yet, you tend to it all with the same diligence of your own mother. And, oddly enough, you are glad for it.

Alive, you never cared for these things. Now, you suppose, you simply have nothing better to do. You enjoy watching Prosciutto cook, just so that you can commit his skills to memory and memorize his recipes – and the same has been done with the laundry. With each passing day, you learn a new secret about the men of the house. Tonight, you will learn of Risotto’s unprofessed ailment of night terrors.

Surely, it comes as an unfathomable surprise to him when he wakes before the morning sky has; chills curl his dampened spine and root him in place by what must be an invisible bond. He struggles to catch the breaths that do not stay, and the room around him spins so fast that his stomach lurches with pain.

He does not dream of those whom he has killed – he dreams of everything he has done wrong and more. In this moment, Risotto feels as though he has been suspended from a string that holds him in place between the realm of consciousness and not. If his body could listen to his mind, he would carry himself to the shower and begin the day prematurely.

Standing above him, your skirt swaying from the gentle breeze of the box fan in the window, you soak a cotton cloth in a bowl of cold water and hum to yourself a particular little tune from your childhood. You give him this moment of vulnerability, because he needs it as a reminder that he is only human. But that does not mean he must suffer for it alone.

You stop to wring the cloth back into the bowl before draping it over his glistening forehead. His eyes scan your face for an answer that you are not able to give. In his delirium, he decides that you must be an angel who has come to visit him in his sleep – and even now, this is nothing more than a fantasy. And yet, when he bursts into a sudden coughing fit and begs you for a glass of water, you fetch it without hesitation.

The rim of the cup meets his lips, held to them by your own grasp. In this reverie – this hypnotic daze – he can feel everything, including the soft pads of your fingertips as you comb through his hair and nestle him back down against the pillow. He can smell the faintest perfume of flowers, too. You stay with him until his gasping for air becomes the timbre of gentle snores, and his haunting eyes have drifted shut.

And it fills you with the strangest kind of gratification that makes your heart swell like a blossom in spring.

In truth, you ventured into the bathroom with every intention of mopping the vinyl-tiled floor and bleaching the shower while the men are out. Instead, your cleaning supplies lie neglected in the corner, in an unforeseen bout in which you have become distracted. You stand in front of the mirror with a scowl as you trace the permanent bruises on your neck, left behind by your lover’s hands. You ought to be a woman near forty now, perhaps married to some corporate worker from the retail district – or at least, certainly someone other than him, if you decided to marry at all.

Whatever decision you may have made, you just hope that you would have been happy. Because, if you are utterly and truly happy as you are, then what good is a husband or a wife to share it with? With a sigh, you turn away and effectively tear your gaze away from your reflection. That is, until a peculiar silver hand slips past the paneled mirror and curls around your wrist. Without a moment to spare, you are pulled backwards, and into the precipice of the void.

It is Illuso who stands in front of you in this mirrored realm of what appears to be the bathroom but is not quite so. The lights are darker, and air around you is unsettlingly cold; the thing that holds you still is anything but human. Dark red eyes belonging to a peevishly smirking face peer down at you.

“You know, bella,” he says as he tethers a lock of your hair around a finger. Even if he tore it from your scalp, you would not feel same the pain that others might. Though, that does not stop you from cowering at his touch. “You have some nerve, breaking in when the others are gone. I bet you think you’re the sneaky type, hm? Well, if that’s the case, you aren’t very good at this. So, let me ask something, and if I like your answer, I’ll let you go. Did the Boss send you?”

Your breath hitches.

“Or are you just a lost stray from the streets?”

You fumble in the grasp of that which grips your arms. You have overhead the men in conversation of whom you can only assume is their employer – and, based on the inflections of their tones, you know that they harbor unspeakable resentment towards him. In your silence, Illuso huffs and suddenly you are thrown to the floor. The tiles feel sticky underneath your palms.

He opens his mouth to speak again, but nothing comes, for his eyes have fallen to the bruises upon your skin and your pretty terry dress that seems a decade out of fashion. It was never a secret to any of the men from La Squadra di Esecuzioni – or rather, to anyone who has lived in Napoli long enough – that a young woman fitting your description was murdered within the very confines of these walls.

It is an absurd thought to believe in ghosts – but then again, so are the existence of Stands. In a world where the physical manifestation of one’s own soul is possible, how truly ludicrous would it be for the apparition of a human being to linger, post-mortem? It is plenty good a rationalization for Illuso, and so he crouches down and grasps your chin.

You meet his gaze, reluctantly so.

“So then, you’re the one who burnt dinner last night. You owe Melone an apology; here, we all thought he was to blame.”

Of course, you already knew that.

“You’ve been a busy girl, haven’t you? Now, if I’m not mistaken, you were in the middle of something. I won’t keep you any longer.”

He casts you from his mirror. You land on your knees, just before the empty mop bucket. It is not until you stand that you realize Illuso is still in the mirror, smiling so wickedly again as his hands move to work the buttons of his shirt loose before he turns on the showerhead and steps inside.

The bathroom will have to wait to be cleaned. Besides, you think you have just heard the washing machine chime.

Your unfortunate interaction with Illuso has, to say the least, rubbed you entirely the wrong way; it is merely his condescending self, and therefore, his blame. His nasty jab at your cooking abilities has not helped to fuel any incentive to continue helping. The laundry has gotten backed up, and more often than not, Prosciutto orders takeout for the others rather than spending his own precious time preparing a meal, only to be stuck with the mess of dishes.

Among this all, you have returned to the solitude that was once like a dear, albeit unwanted, friend. Today, you are found amongst crates in the basement with a file that you had snatched from Risotto’s office. It makes for a good bit of reading, and surely, there can be no harm in peaking.

As for Ghiaccio, he has practically torn the apartment apart in his reckless rage to find his missing dossier – which, as he recalls perfectly clearly, he had left on his Capo’s desk for light corrections on the misspelling of the target’s name.

If Pesci were here, he might insist that the ghost stole it. It is a thought that makes Ghiaccio scoff because there is no such thing. He was disappointed to find Risotto’s eagerness to believe Illuso’s insistence on the matter. Prosciutto met the accusation with a roll of his eyes; Formaggio, a dismissive flick of his hand and a laugh; and Melone . . . Well, by that point, Ghiaccio had tuned out the ludicrous conversation entirely.

He stares at the basement door as his fists curl tightly to his gloved palms. It is the last place he had thought to look, for he had no reason to. Although now that he finds himself caving to the frustrations of his missing file, he opens the door and plunges into the dark.

You do not hear him approach – too mesmerized by your choice in reading, of course. When the file in the manilla folder is snatched from your grasp, you frown and meet the fuming stare of Ghiaccio. “Are you serious?” he asks, incredulous. “I’ve been looking for this for hours, no thanks to you.”

When he slams the door, shutting you away without a better source of distraction, you sigh. You should have known better. Maybe when he is done with it, you will borrow it back.

But until then, you think you will pretend to take a nap.

Today is a good day, and you feel like cooking again. You scour the refrigerator and pantry for the ingredients needed to prepare Prosciutto’s salted herring and polenta. You add corn meal to the pot of cold water atop the stove. As the water heats, you throw in a pinch of salt and a spoonful of dried rosemary. It is a simple dish, yet the men eat it all the same.

The floorboards behind you creak under Prosciutto’s weight. He lowers the dangling cigarette from his mouth. Ashes trickle towards the ground and to his shoes. He watches, unsure of what to think of it really, as you take a whisk to the pot. His eyes fall to the jar of pickled herring, and perhaps if he felt so inclined to, he might have smiled.

He stubs the cigarette out and drapes his suit jacket over a chair to the kitchen table. Suddenly cognizant to his intrusion, you drop the whisk on the counter, meaning to flee – until he stops you with a firm grip to your shoulder that encourages you to continue.

“I’ve missed your food,” he confesses with unknown sincerity. “But you have a knack for burning the herring. Let me show you how to do it better, eh?”

Sleeves neatly rolled back to his elbows, he cleanses his hands in the sink. He smells like smoke and death; judging by the subtle unraveling of the buns at the back of his head, you suppose that this must have been a difficult hit. Regardless of whatever may be troubling him, Prosciutto rests a skillet atop the next burner and sets a pat of butter inside it for melting.

Still tense, though you feel yourself relax ever so slightly with the easing of your joints, you return to the polenta and pray that it has not scorched in the absence of your touch. “It was one of my grandmother’s recipes,” he confesses as he adds the first filet to the pan. “The brine for the fish, that is. She died before I ever knew her, but she did leave my father her old recipe book. Not that he ever cooked much, mind you. Regardless, I believe this was too plebeian of a dish for his tastes.”

You do not know how to respond – maybe he is waiting for a confession that you have met his grandmother’s soul, or something else along those lines; however, he will only be disappointed by any semblance of an explanation that this is simply not how spirits work.

Instead, you grate a rind of parmesan into the polenta.

Empty bottles of beer and a shooter of vodka lie discarded on the floor, littering the living room with an unkempt mess that would have sent your mother into a spiral, if she were here to see it. The television flashes as the end credits to whatever rom-com Formaggio decided on roll down the screen. Most of the cast-member’s names are unfamiliar to you, apart from the lead, whom you remember as an upcoming starlet from your childhood. You always thought she was a bore.

With a groan, an unconscious Formaggio turns on the couch. A half-empty peroni dangles precariously from his grasp. You take it before it can spill, and as he sleeps, you gather the rest of his mess for disposal. Once you are done, you switch off the television and hoist the man up. He becomes nothing more than deadweight at your side.

You are halfway to his bedroom when he lurches. In a stumble, he catches himself by grabbing the closest thing within his reach: your breast. You shove his hand away, and his green orbs dart around in an ogling state.

“Hey, bella signora,” he says with a heavy slur to his speech, accompanied by a grin. “Sorry about that . . . You have great tits, y’know?”

You blush. Now in his room, Formaggio falls to the unmade bed; the springs recoil and squeal beneath his body. He pulls a wrinkled blanket to his shoulders. You return with two tachipirina and a bottle of water for him to take up in the morning – or whenever he wakes, for that matter. A hearty breakfast will do him good, too. You certainly will not need to pull his arm to convince him otherwise.

You set the medication upon his nightstand, beside a crushed soda can and an overflowing ashtray.

“Grazie, [Y/N].”

To hear your name spoken again after so many years is something that curls into your heart and tugs it so tightly that your fingers tingle. Formaggio gawks up at you through half-lidded eyes. With a heavy sigh, he falls back asleep without much effort.

No matter his intent, it brings a smile to your face.

You hurry down the hallway, clutching a basket of folded laundry betwixt your arm and torso. The warm linens carry the scent of detergent – ocean breeze, the bottle called it. You are not convinced, for it smells nothing like the ocean you once knew; it is far too fruity and clean.

“No! Get away from me, fantasma!”

You stop. There Pesci stands at the edge of the hallway, his green hair still wet from the shower. He stumbles backwards until his spine meets the wall with a forceful thud that rattles the pictures on the walls.

“Fratello! D – Don’t hurt me, please! Fratello, help me!”

You wonder if Prosciutto will come to his rescue – not that Pesci is truly in need of anything of the sort. Alas, the younger man’s words are startling. Taken aback, you contemplate that perhaps your kindness has been rather unnerving to some, and more than others. His eyes glisten, as if he might cry; the laundry basket feels far too heavy in your grasp now.

“Why would I hurt you?” you ask; you no longer recognize the sound of your own voice, for the sounds of your thoughts carry a different ring. “Why would I want to hurt anyone? If I wanted you dead, don’t you think I would’ve already done it by now?”

With an indignant huff, you make your way towards the bathroom to tuck the fresh towels away. The air is clammy and hot, but it does not bother you.

“I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t – I wasn’t thinking.”

You set the emptied basket down. “Obviously not,” you tell Pesci.

He rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. You wish he would leave, because the uneasiness of presence is unnerving – sweltering, even. “Wait. You’ve been the one doing my laundry?” he asks shyly.

“Yes.”

“You even separated the colors. I can tell because my whites haven’t been turning dark.” His lips pull into a sheepish grin, and his cheeks turn the color of a summer rose. “Thank you.”

Even when you were alive, you chide that you have always been something of a winsome little fool. Dead, you still have not learned any better. And that is why you find yourself standing in front of Melone, frozen in time, as his lithe fingers curl around the base of his manhood that drips from the head. It was an honest mistake on your part – you had entered to deliver an object of some importance without bothering to knock first.

His eyes are screwed shut; otherwise, he might see you standing here at the foot of his bed, your own belly churning in anticipation that you have not felt since you were one of the living. It is a phenomenon of interest that begs you to climb upon the bed next to him – to feel those soft sheets beneath your own skin – and touch yourself. And so, you do.

Your skirt bunches at your waist as you drag your hand towards your folds, panties discarded and dangling from your ankle. Tentative at first, you bite your lip as you graze your hardened pearl before stroking yourself until you are glistening like him. At the sound of Melone’s poorly muffled moan as he bites the back of his knuckles, you slip inside and hook into the warmth that pulsates between your spread thighs.

You are giddy like the young woman you were the first time you had ever indulged in self-pleasure; it is a wicked, sinful desire – or at least, that is what your mother always told you. You never believed much of her volition because you knew she only ever said it when thoughts of impulsive yearning plagued her own mind.

You fumble through velveteen fabric to find the stiff peaks of your breasts; with a sigh that you forget to hold in, you tweak and pinch your nipple as you slip a second finger within your folds and imagine that it is Melone’s shaft pumping in and out of you, with the tenacity of a gentle lover. You time your thrusts with his own until you are hanging on the edge of your own orgasm.

It is a beautiful feeling that you never thought to be possible again. Fuming with spent sex, you cradle your slick hand to your chest and watch as white ribbons lacquer his stomach like the paint of a picket fence. He turns his head away in his own exhaustion after wiping himself down with a towel that was deliberately left beside the bed.

You lean over his still form to admire the handsome structure of his resting face. His lips look so soft, you think – and you wish only to feel them with your own. It is a daring move, but you brush his lavender hair away from his drenched forehead with every intention of doing just that.

Only, as you have found after your tentative stupor, to end up on your back with your arms pinned to the space beside your head in a giving – albeit firm – hold. He nestles his body against yours until you have no choice but to hike your hips up to meet his. His hair dangles above you and abrades the flushed skin of your cheeks.

“I hope you enjoyed the show, mia civetta,” he coos in a tone that suggests his desires. “Because I know I did.”

His hand cups your wet folds, and you find yourself bucking against the touch that could never compare to your own salacious act. You keen and meet him in a kiss halfway, as his fingers plunge within you and your toes curl into the bedding.

You would not mind staying like this forever.

As the millennium turns into the new century, it becomes an unuttered agreement among the men of

La Squadra

that yours is an appreciated and coveted presence – ghost or not, they cherish you as if you are one of their own. And, in a way, you suppose that you are. You are solace to them amidst their troubles and talks of betrayal to the one who first appointed them under Risotto’s leadership.

You have learned that there are two more members of their team: Sorbet and Gelato. Though, they did not come around often, and your interactions with them were far from illustrious. Alas, you knew that they were dead before the frames of formalin arrived.

The paper shredder runs for days, and the unused fireplace roars with the blazes of tattered documents. Formaggio is the first to leave. With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his striped trousers, he saunters over to you at your perch by the living room window. “Addio, bella,” he says to you with a grin that does not quite reach his eyes.

Illuso is next. “I would tell you, ‘I’ll see you around,’ but we both know that isn’t possible,” he huffs; it is a jab at some sense of humor to alleviate the lingering doubt that he swallows like a pill. “Enjoy your little stay-cation, won’t you?”

Then it is Prosciutto, with Pesci following in tow. The green haired man radiates confidence that the blonde does not reciprocate. “Wish us luck, [Y/N!]” the former admonishes as he reaches to pull you into a hug that is tight enough to let you know that he is truly terrified of what is to come.

He does not let go until his superior demands it. After the younger man has left for the car, Prosciutto reaches into his suit jacket and produces a book. The spine has worn out from use and labor, and its pages are crudely held together by brown rubber bands.

It is his grandmother’s recipe book. You take it and cradle it in your arms as if it is a newborn babe, because you fear that anything less than a delicate grasp with make it fall apart. “Take care of yourself, my friend.”

You nod, and he is gone. You spend the night peering over the stained pages, willing yourself to commit its contents to memory so that one day, you might return the favor. On Melone’s day to leave, he bids you adieu with a suggestive tone and a firm pat to your backend. If he had the time to spare, you might have begged him to stay a bit longer – or at least, enough for just one more round of lovemaking. He placates you with a kiss that leaves you craving his touch, instead.

“There’s a few dossiers left in the office, if you still want to read them so badly,” Ghiaccio begrudgingly tells you before he departs. “I convinced Risotto to let you have them for now. Just burn them when you’re done.”

All that remains is you and Risotto – just as it began. It is the way it should be, in a poetic sense of justice wherein the beginning becomes the end; full circle, as they call it. You are not too sure about that, for you are full of bitterness at the crumbling of your familiarity. You sit beside him on the couch, biting your lip in dreadful anticipation for what is to come next. He stares blankly into the space in front of him, perhaps stuck in his own thoughts so much that he cannot separate them from reality.

Eventually, his calloused palm finds your shoulder, in his means of comfort – to reassure you or himself, you are not sure. Whatever he needs, it is his. “Thank you,” he finally says.

Risotto once thought you to be an angel, though he never believed in anything of the sort. Religion has left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You gave me a purpose,” you confess with a sad simper. “All of you did.”

Just when you think that he might return the gesture, he stands. Despite the traces of uncertainty in their hearts, every man of his team believed that they would return – to the apartment, to Passione, and most importantly, to you.

But he will not dwell on any such idea, because he knows better than to make promises that he cannot keep.

One-by-one, the men trickle home with fresh scars and unspeakable horrors. It is a pretty dream, that the abode where they each possessed the deepest connection to were neither childhood cottages nor the places of their demises – but rather, the place where you exist alone

It irks you to wonder why you ended up here after your death, though you tell yourself that it was just a twist of fate so that you might find them – the ones who needed you the most.

There are no needs for cooking or laundry – the home that once felt scared to you is tense again and filled with brooding silence. When at last Risotto arrives, body littered with seeping bullet wounds and missing a hand, the dam breaks as the men accept their aggrieved failure.

Unbeknownst to you all, it has only been the matter of a few days since they returned to you in haste; you have found that the perception of time for the dead is hazy at best. Soon enough, you find yourself in an empty home again. You are, of course, glad that they have all passed on – that somehow, their deaths have been requited.

The same cannot be said for you. And so, you spend your days on newly neglected furniture and stew, solus – this, you decide, will be your eternity; a lost soul with nothing better to do than to long for that which will never be.

When, months later, the door opens anew, you do not rise; surely you are imagining the blonde boy and the other with an oddly patterned beanie cap who stand under the arch and gape at you like a caged animal in a display. In due time, you will learn of Giorno and Mista’s intentions – for those are their names – of repurposing the townhouse in the name of Passione.

But for now, you greet them like two friends, because the nagging in your old heart tells you to.

| 5160 Words |

#la squadra x reader #la squadra #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #melone x reader #formaggio x reader #pesci x reader #ghiaccio x reader

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ladywinterwitch · 3 years

Text

Run Away (Ten - Strangers)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You and Steve complete each other. Your love is that strong and devoted kind of love that pushes people to things like marriage, making a family. You couldn't imagine that a baby would be something you really wished, until the possibility wasn't your choice anymore.

Warnings: pregnancy talk, fluff, A N G S T, I think that's it??

Words Count: 3739

A/n: Next chapter is longer and INTENSE

Series masterlist , main masterlist

(GIF not mine)

Y/n and Steve ended up falling asleep, which was a bit embarassing especially on his part. In the end tho they woke up around two in the afternoon and were starving. You also thought about the fact that Helen must've already set in by now. After cleaning up a bit and getting redressed the two actually went to separate directions, Steve to the gym because he had a bunch of new recruits to train by three sharp, while Y/n was heading to the kitchen.

-FRIDAY, would you call up ms Simon for me?- she found Tony, Vision and Thor in the common room so she quickly greeted them.

-Hey guys, taking a break?- she smiled when Thor got up to greet her properly. He was such a physical and affectionate person. He reminded her of a golden retriever; huge, with long hair and a heart of gold. Your smile widened when he bent down to press his ear to her belly.

-Well yes darling, do you forget that aside from kicking some ass every now and then we're basically jobless?- Tony joked. Both he and Vision were looking at you two.

-How is your pregnancy going, Y/n?- Vision asked in his posh and polite manner. She tilted her head to the side. Thor still touching the smooth and round surface. She didn't mind at all.

-It's going smoothly, thank you. Tho if I have to be honest I can't wait to at least give birth. I love my belly but it's so complicated to live with. I also miss actually moving around and exiting the tower. I don't think I've ever been so still and babyed in my life.-

-If it was an easy job, God wouldn't have gave it to women.- they all turn around when you hear an unfamiliar voice, which they soon found out to be Helen's. Thor stands straight in all his tallness and gets in front of her protectively.

-Who are you?- he asks suspiciously. She put a hand on his arm to calm him down.

-It's okay, Thor. This is Helen Simon, she's my new midwife. The one me and Steve hired this morning.- her head turns quickly to Tony then back to Helen. Tony stands up, fixing the invisible fold in his tracksuit pants and smugly walks to the older woman.

-Stark. Tony Stark. I actually hired you, but I'll let the happy couple have the glory.- he joked and you shook your head amused. They shook hands and then Vision introduced himself as well. Thor just acknowleged her with a nod. It's not like the God of Thunder had to introduce himself.

-Okay guys, see you later. I'm starving so.- you decided to cut it, but obviously Tony had to sneak in a joke. Had to.

-I'm sure cap worn you out.- Thor, which didn't know what timing was, bless his heart, decided to burst out laughing. You rolled your eyes not looking back.

-Jealousy doesn't match with your shoes Anthony.- you clapped back, still hearing Thor laugh and Tony calling him out.

A few feet down the corridor there was the kitchen, and when Y/n finally tought that her and Helen could have a minute alone, they found Wanda intently reading a book while she mover her finger around to spin the teaspoon in a mug. She looked up when they entered the room. Her finger stopped working and so did the spoon, the faint magenta colored aura disappearing.

-Hello?- she said, tentatively. Y/n ignored her cold stare and walked to the fridge taking out the leftover chicken and some salad to mix.

-She's Helen, the midwife me and Steve talked about.- there was a subtle warning in Y/n's voice. She thought 'Be nice' in her mind, and when Wanda sighed she knew she read her mind.

-Nice to meet you. If you'll excuse m- - Wanda was about to get up from the stool but the old woman's voice stopped her.

-You aren't eating that chicken cold are you? How old is it?- she walked closer, grabbing the plastic box from her hands. Both her and Wanda were a little taken aback by her bluntness, and shared a look.

-Uh..Yeah? I was actually going to put it in the salad. And it's..I'm not sure, a couple of days old? Still perfectly fresh and untouched.- she answered trying to reassure her, but she wasn't having it at all.

-This isn't eating healthy. If you want a healthy baby you need to eat properly. I'll take care of your meals from now on. - she stated, putting the box aside. - The non pregnant teammates can risk getting sick with that chicken. - Wanda's gaze darkened and her eyes took a light shade of red.

-What's that supposed to mean, old lady? - Y/n saw her fingers starting to move around with the corner of her eye and put her own hand on hers.

-Helen didn't mean anything, Wanda. She just meant that I have to be extra careful in comparison to the rest of you, ok? Don't you have to be somewhere right now?- she asked in the most calm way. The last hting she needed was Wanda yeeting Helen out of the tower on the first day. Wanda closed and picked up her book and mug, walking towards the exit of the kitchen.

-I mean, I'd like to go to the terrace to chill, but I can't.- Y/n frowned while sitting on a stool. Meanwhile Helen had already started to inspect their whole frige.

-I can feel Bucky and his girl going at it so yeah, I did not plan to watch a live performance.- she choked on water and the old lady turned around with a rather disgusted face. Wanda just shrugged and left them. The girl turned towards the older woman with an awkward smile.

-Welcome I guess.- the short fake laugh was over as soon as Helen sat in front of her, her hands conjoined in front of her.

-This isn't good.- the girl shifted uncomfortably, then uncosciously starting to rub her belly as a sign of comfort.

-What isn't?- the lady sighed. -First off, there are way too many people here. This place is chaotic, the people aren't giving you the peace that you need. This isn't a baby-space. At all. I just looked into your frigde and there isn't a single thing ready or 100% healthy probably except vegetables. Y/n if you want to be a good mother and be healthy for your baby you need to change a few things.- her words at first irritated her, setting off her protectiveness towards the people she called family, but then as she went on, she made her feel little. Like a little girl who wasn't good enough. She sighed silently.

-What would you have me do then?- she asked. Helen shrugged, still mantaining her perfect posture.

-I'm not gonna suggest you to buy a new place, because where you'll live after the baby is born is your business, but..- she paused, -I can offer you to come live at my place for these last two months or so. I have a nice, peaceful place a little outside New York. I already had eight of my patients do this, it's not so absurd.- she explained like it was the most normal thing in the world. Y/n was listening, but she wasn't convinced. She decided that she had to think about it first. She had to know for sure that she was professional and competent.

-I don't know, Helen. I'll admit that it isn't the most tranquil place to live, but...these people are my family. They have always been by my side, pregnant or not. And what about Steve? The father of my firstborn?- she marked the last phrase, tilting her head to the side. A little habit she probably took from Wanda.

-Because they care about you. But in truth, tell me, aren't you feeling like a burden? Like you get into their business?- she mirrored the young woman's expression. Y/n didn't answer at first.

-You're really not going soft on this are you?- Helen released a dry laugh. Shook her head and paused before talking.

-Yes. I began working as a nurse unofficially when I was 13 years old, during the Prague Spring reforms in '68. The hospital was in short of nurses so.- she explained, -That time wasn't easy. Not that the one before it and after it wasn't, that is. You either grow a thick skin or you don't survive.- Y/n felt for her, as she had a very similar destiny. First she doesn't know how she ended up in an orphanage, and then when she was fifteen and nobody took her, they kicked her out. She was homeless for a year until SHIELD recruited her, and the rest is history.

The older woman got up and took some vegetables, washed them and then placed them down to slice them. Y/n got up as well and started helping. She eyed the fresh eggs, so she guessed that Helen wanted to make a quick frittata.

-How did you end up in America? As midwife, nonetheless.- she asked.

-Why most foreign people come to America? Certainly not the food.- The woman responded with a slight hint of irony. The girl chuckled.

-Touché.-

-In any case, I've been here more than half of my live, moved many states mainly for my own choice. Being a private midwife pays decently.- she paused to dump the sliced vegetables into a pan with a little oil and salt.

-I became one because I was fascinated by the whole process that the woman's body goes through both before, during and after birth. I assisted two of my older sisters, and in the end ended up doing it as a job.- Y/n nodded, listening.

-That's actually amazing. But if I can ask, you do not have kids yourself?-

-No. Didn't have the possibility at first. Then decided that just it was my profession but not my future. No regrets.- she answered even tho the girl could sense that something was off. She decided not to intrude.

Silence fell between them while they were cooking, and the younger woman took the popularity to think about what she said. The woman was practical, a bit harsh maybe. But she also had a lot of experience. She didn't like the thought of leaving her family, but she had to admit that she often felt like a burden lately. More than once someone stayed behind to look after her, and even tho they didn't seem to mind at all, she did. She wasn't used to being so pampered and looked after, and sometimes she almost felt suffocated. Guess that spending many years of your life having to take care of yourself takes a toll on you.

She didn't want to decide anything without talking it out with Steve first. And it wouldn't be permanent, just for the last couple months or so, until she had the baby. If she really thought about it maybe she needed some time to reconnect with herself, to learn how to take care of her baby in the best way possible. Even the stupidest thing like cold chicken could potentially make her sick, and it was such a small thing. But that doesn't change the fact that she didn't knew. She wasn't one of those moms who surrounded herself with books teaching her every do's and don'ts, but at this point insecurity was kicking in. The last thing she would ever want was to be a bad mother even before actually becoming one.

Between a baby shop and another, and a whole new diet including an embarrassing amount of tea, Y/n finished her eight month of pregnancy. She was feeling as tired and as big as ever. Helen actually helped a lot both with the cooking, the health tips and with the shopping. She actually sobbed when they bought the crib. Both because she was emotional, a bit because hormones and also because Steve was again away on a mission. The whole team was actually. They had new leads in the Hungarian case and another completely different mission in South Korea, a tough one. So it required the whole team split up. That was the fist time Y/n was left alone since she knew she were pregnant. It all went smoothly, the tower actually felt quiet for once.

Y/n and Helen had found a nice dynamic, and most of the time spent time in a comfortable silence, each doing their thing. A downside that she wasn't realizing was the distance that was slowly creeping from her to the team. They didn't really like the midwife that much, Wanda, Thor and Bucky especially didn't like her at all. But Y/n felt for her, she felt like she knew her better than them so she often took her side, which hurt them back.

Steve on the other hand wasn't realizing it almost at all. All he cared about was his wife being healthy and that she got along with the midwife. They didn't sleep together often anymore, due to the fact that he was often away and she was constantly tired. Bruce did warn her at the beggining that this 'enhanced' baby would've probably tired her out, and it did at first but then she was feeling very well. She and Helen both blamed it on the tiredness of the pregnancy as a whole.

The last straw was when some of the guys, specifically Sam, Thor and Peter, whom didn't live at the tower and was rarely involved in missions because of Tony, went to see them and in some way, nobody actually know how, they made a whole ass hole in the floor above the library. Fate wanted that Y/n and Helen were reading just a few feet away. If they were just a bit closer to the door, they would've been hit by the pavement pieces.

Helen gasped and jumped out of her seat, book still in her hand by the corner. The younger woman on the other hand was more mad than anything.

She rose from the armchair, struggling a bit and marched towards the now destroyed door. The damage wasn't so bad, but it was still damage and it could've been way worse. She was fuming.

-Y/n! Shit are you okay? - Sam yelled from above. The three guys looking down from the hole they created.

-I'm so sorry it wasn't me! It was Thor! - Peter joined in and caused the God to respond, and from that a whole lot of mess arose.

The people who weren't on a mission, which were Wanda, Bucky and Tony, came running.

Y/n didn't know where to look and all of a sudden started felling a bit suffocated. She brought a hand to her forehead, distubed by the chaos arouns her.

-Stop! Fucking stop it! - she yelled, groaning from frustration. Everyone stopped talking while the girl started to feel her eyes prickle with tears of frustration.

-Why is never, ever a single day if peace in here? There's always someone around, making a mess, making noise, complaining- - she almost stumbled on a piece of ceiling that had fallen, but Bucky and Tony were right behind her and helped her stabilize herself, but she shoved them off.

-Leave me be!- she exclaimed frustrated. She huffed, trying to take a deep breath. -I'm moving out.- a chorus of 'What' arose. Bucky stepped forward and grabbed her wrist gently.

-What are you talking about?- his eyes showed confusion and panic.

-And when would have you decided this stupid thing?- Tony crossed his arms and went straight up 'Tony Stark' on her. Y/n rolled her eyes, ignoring both questions and walked out of the now damaged library. Helen followed suit.

-At least wait for Steve to return!- Wanda said. Thor jumped down, through the new hole in the ceiling and followed her like the others.

-Y/n, we're sorry! Look, I'm gonna fix the ceiling myself okay? Please don't go- Y/n's ached to see them upset, but she was tired. Too tired. She was afraid that if she had stayed more than she could withstand, their relationships could've been ruined. That was the last thing she wanted. She didn't knew exactly what was that overwhelmed her so much. She felt constantly tired and in pain, all the noise, number of people..it had become just too much. She needed to finish this pregnancy alone, or at least in a more quiet place.

She stopped in her tracks and exhaled silently. Her eyes passed through everyone in the room. Even in that moment, they were decimated because of the mission, yet there were still eight people in the room. When normally it would've been around 15. That's too many people.

-It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault, specifically. I just.. I feel overwhelmed. There's too much going on here at the tower. And for me it's like seeing life go on without being able to do anything. I need some space, okay? It won't be forever. Hell, if everything goes well it's gonna be a month, at best. But I really, really need a break. I am going to pack and leave by afternoon, when Steve returns, just send him to the address that I'll leave for him. Okay? I love you guys, you're my family and I wouldn't be where I am today without you. Its just temporary.- she smiled softly, trying not to get emotional. Wanda was visibly upset, on the verge of crying. The others just looked sad, maybe disappointed. But nobody said anything, so she turned her heels and went straight to her room.

By five pm she and Helen were already gone. The older woman called them a cab, the driver took care of their stuff and then they were gone. Y/n was silent during most of the trip, both because of the extreme tiredness and sadness. She never changed home since she moved to the tower. She also thought about what she would tell Steve. She knew she couldn't contact him, so she didn't. They had left two days prior, so it was a bit early to know when he'll be coming home. But she knew a hundred percent that he would've gotten to her even before going home.

The two women were headed to the older one's house, which was in Avalon, New Jersey. Helen had told her about her beach house, quite far from the city. Y/n did actually fall asleep after the first hour or so, they had around three in total so she didn't worry about not waking up. By her surprise though, she did sleep throughout the whole trip, and yet, she was still tired. In those days her head gave her particular discomfort, so any noise at all really disturbed her.

Helen woke her up gently when they arrived, the she helped her get out of the car. Meanwhile the driver, which was a quite young man, probably around her age, which was 27, with curly black hair, stubble and dark green eyes, took their luggage off of the trunk.

-That's all. Have a nice stay.- he smiled slightly. Y/n frowned, what about the money?

-How much do we owe you?- she asked sweetly. He waved his hand dismissively, going back in the driver's seat.

-The lady already paid me, I'm ok. Bye.- he waved goodbye and drove off. Y/n and Helen dragged the luggage insider her villa, by which the girl definitely was taken aback.

-You didn't tell me that you live in a Villa?-

-Maybe, but I did tell you that being a private midwife pays well. I also need space if I want to take people living with me.- she explained. The first thing that you could see was the huge open space which showed a not exaggeratedly large living room with a window door on the right, on the left there was the kitchen and in the middle a staircase.

It wasn't very decorated, but the light palette of the whole place defines had a calming effect. Y/n was so used to the high rise and high technology of the Avengers tower that she had almost forgot how nice and intimate a normal house could be.

Helen showed y/n around a little, then ended up in the spare room, which had a large bed, a balcony and some essential forniture pieces such as a wardrobe, a vanity, a full length mirror, an armchair.

-This is really nice, Helen.- she smiled tiredly, caressing her big belly while she walked around. But as she was walking towards the balcony, she had a slight attack of vertigo, and her knees buckle for a second. The woman was at her side in a few seconds, helping her onto the bed. Y/n huffed, the back of her hand on her eyes.

-Why am I so shitty? I was pretty good until a few months ago.- she whined, and Helen shook her head while she stroked her arm.

-Every pregnancy is different, Y/n. You're just tired, from the car and that chaotic place.- the disdain in her voice didn't really pleased Y/n, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have the strength and besides, it's not like she was particularly liked at the tower anyway.

-I'll get you a tea, be right back.- Y/n chuckled.

-I drank more of your Hungarian tea than water in the last months.- Helen pulled a tight smile.

-Well, it is a traditional recipe for pregnant women. Not that you seem to mind it either.- the girl relaxed her eyes and discarded her sneakers to the ground.

-No, it has a peculiar taste but not bad.-

-Good.- and with that she left the girl alone. Helen went down the stairs, and turned on the stove to warm some water. She then opened a drawer, forcing the wood layer to come up by using her fingernails, pulling out an old fashioned phone.

She went to the contacts and dialed the only one there was. She waited a few minutes, when someone picked up.

-Igen?-

-Közeledünk. Készülj fel.- she said, hanging up.

************

Translation from Hungarian: ‘Yes?’ ‘We’re close. Get ready.’

Hiii, this is quite a short chapter but I wanted to end it with ✨ suspense ✨ the next one tho is gonna be way longer. Lastly, friendly reminder that my taglist and my ask inbox are open!

***********

Taglist : @polarcrystall @a--1--1--3 @jessyballet

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pepperpills · 3 years

Text

The Harvest - RE8 fanfic

The Harvest

A Resident Evil 8 fan fiction by Joana

Karl Heisenberg x Female Reader

Notes: hi guys, I'm changing a little my posting method. at first, I was afraid the chapters were too big and decided to divide them in parts and post a new part everyday (as long as there was a part to post), but it kind of affects the reading, so I will be uploading a new complete chapter every tuesday, hope it is better for you!

Warning: NSFW content

Part I - Destiny (1) Part I - Destiny (2)

Part II – The Lord

The day after The Harvest, when you were designated to work for Lord Heisenberg, was a long one. Not really exhausting as you spent most part of it turning from one leg to the other waiting for someone to activate the bridge to the factory.

You were deadened by a miscellaneous of emotions battling to gain domain over your brain. You couldn’t stop thinking about waving your mother goodbye as the sun conquered the sky, shortly before being surrendered by the stormy clouds.

After the speech at the Chapel, you wanted to wander around a little bit, maybe hunt, thinking that it probably was your last walk on those landscapes, yet, you didn’t want to get late on your first day, so your feet lead the way past Heisenberg’s gate, close to the church. It wasn’t even lunch time when you reached the end of the road, facing the factory chimneys and the hell lot of metal discarded in its front yard.

You had completely no idea how to call someone or if you should, as far as you knew, the lord lived there alone and you didn’t think it would be a great first impression if you simply started yelling his name, so he could do that bridge thing.

Thus, you waited. Placing your bag on the ground, you stood there for what seemed to be two entire hours. Then you got tired and sat, your corselet holding your oxygen levels. After a while even being sat was annoying, your legs tingled and your stomach hurt, once you completely forgot to bring any food with you.

That would be a great time for the Duke to make an entrance. As one of his most loyal clients – maybe you sneak once in a while, claiming possessions of one or two crystals –, sometimes you two shared a meal and Gods, he was a good cook. But it wasn’t his week at the Village and that wasn’t his store’s place anyway.

When the day light began to fade and the clouds grew heavier, you started worrying about getting wet. To divert your mind from that thought, you left all your belongings at the end of the road, not too close to the border, so hopefully they wouldn’t fall in the water below, and explored the ruins, studying the bricks that build those structures, absolutely bored, not even anxious anymore. At that point you could think about a thing or two to say to that idiot Heisenberg.

What would happen if he didn’t open the gate? Could you just walk away and live your life? Well, that didn’t sound like a bad plan, if just you could reach the forest first… The first water drop popped in your hair, the rain it announced didn’t take long to join it and a few moments later you were soaking wet, cold to the bone, contracting every muscle.

Suddenly, as you were about to curse Heisenberg’s name, a gear sound rose, it sounded old, but well-oiled and was really loud, louder than the rain and thunders and made you and the crows jump, they flew, you stayed as there was nowhere to go. Approaching your dank belongings, you saw a firm, modular, sand-coloured bridge forming in front of your eyes. Its movement was smooth comparing to something that big. You were genuinely impressed and would like to ask a few questions about how that works.

This surreal vision absorbed you for a few minutes after it was done, you didn’t feel the rain chastening your skin anymore. To be honest, at that point you realized where you were at and what you had to do, after an entire day in standby.

Your own brain didn’t really wake you up from that hypnosis. Oh, no. What made your heart rate rise again was a sudden, strong and frisky voice coming out of nowhere. You looked around, moving your head way too quick, making a spray of water with your hair and saw no one, but his words were most certainly there, echoing in your mind, making your entire body feel warm.

“C’mon, honey pie, we ain’t got all day.” He said, demanding, and then laughed.

Great, a madman, you thought. You weren’t sure, though, if you blushed intensely due to what he just called you or because every cell of your body felt enraged with that joke, it was you who had been waiting for him, you who would be forever wet, because he left you in the rain. You wanted to walk to that factory and tell it straight to that son of a…

Shortly, you understood. It was a test. You took a deep breath, grabbed your stuff, which made a humid sound, and walked resiliently to the factory’s gate. He wanted to see if you were a spitfire and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“She walks.” He giggled, the voice of the wind, and then opened the gate.

Was he doing it with his mind? You knew that Lady Beneviento had some sort of effect on people’s brains, hallucinations they said, Lord Moreau could turn into a giant fish, Lady Dimitrescu had impressive long and strong nails that could tear anyone apart. What could Lord Heisenberg do, really? The villagers talked about he being one of the strongest lords, if not the strongest of them all. He had some power over metal, but you didn’t know exactly how it worked.

Anyway, you stepped in his front yard, facing the absurd, yet fascinating sea made of his discarded toys. For Gods’ sake, you even saw a war tank half buried in the dusty soil, you couldn’t even imagine how he had that and why he would so easily neglect it. There were ripped off motorcycles, destroyed cars, metal pieces with a huge variation of sizes and shapes and a ton of mechanical parts just lying there as a good old scrap heap.

Home, you thought sarcastically and smiled. So, when the last factory doors finally spread open to you, you faced the interior with a smile on your face even though you were miserable due to the storm. Carefully, you came inside just to be greeted by a puff of heat and sweet smoke, really welcoming at your state. The warmth certainly came from all the machinery working there somewhere, making a metal orchestra that never shut off. The smoke, well, it was coming from Heisenberg’s lite cigar.

He came from above, as a god like being, building stairs with metal parts right in the mid-air and climbed them down. You had never seem such thing and it was breath-taking; you were hypnotised for a moment there, silently dripping on the grimy ground, actually cleaning it a little.

He had some sort of waddle on his walk, nothing tawdry, though. Karl Heisenberg looked like an authoritative, impulsive and humorous man and he was, above all, having fun with you being there as if you were his new pup and you sure were.

“Oh, look who finally made it!” He greeted, on the ground, standing three steps away from you, the smoke so dense it made your eyes water, yet reassuringly hot with a tobacco scent.

Heisenberg took off his spectacles, just then you realized he was wearing them inside the factory. Besides that, he was dressed exactly the same as the day before, it didn’t seem he’d showered or so. Nonetheless, now you could see his eyes, his multi-coloured greyish blue abysms staring straight at you for sure this time.

All you felt able to do was stare back, almost not blinking, taken by those soft colours on a rough man like him. You thought you would be scared, although, you were honestly intrigued. You noticed another scar crossing his cheeks and nose and wondered how it ended up there, feeling all of a sudden tempted to reach it with your index finger, gently sensing the cicatrized skin.

“Good evening, sir.” You found yourself saying to be polite, breaking the motionless aura that sunk you in contemplation.

It was bizarre, but you weren’t cold anymore nor angry, you had the grip over your own posture again, your corselet helping you to keep your back straight. You were confident.

“Good evening, Y/N.” This you weren’t expecting, almost broke you. Why would he bother to memorise your name?

You remembered what Miranda said about being solicited by one of the lords, that made you shiver, exactly like the one you had before, only this time you could also smell the iron all over, not only taste it. The scent in the closed atmosphere of the factory had a light, almost undistinguished, aroma of the night, the fresh breeze and dry grass, maybe brought by you, however, most of it was rusted metal, motor oil and tobacco. It wasn’t unpleasant, just uncommon to what you were used to.

“Guess you found less transparent clothes.” He said next, circling you, studying you and your reactions.

You noticed he also smelled like the factory as if he was part of it, or it was, indeed, himself. You closed your eyes and the iron taste emphasized, it felt like you were licking a ring, you head spined.

“It is tradition to wear them at The Harvest.” You defended yourself – and your pure intentions.

You don’t know why, but you felt your cheeks burning, actually, parts of your body that would usually pass unnoticed had lite with the tension in the air and you just hoped you could be alone, devouring some food to calm your nerves.

“Horseshit!” Heisenberg raised his voice, coming through his pressed teeth. “They just make you wear those slutty clothes so my sisterAlcina can see all of her new pups’ assets.” Heisenberg mocked, laughing madly.

“Oh.” You couldn’t think of anything better to say, you never thought of that.

At that point, you were thinking about yourself, your dress and how you felt pretty wearing it. Did it count on the selection? You felt slightly ashamed, Heisenberg’s breathing was too close to your left ear, but you wouldn’t dare to move or your noses could collide.

“Surprised?” He questioned, maliciously. You didn’t answer immediately, you were too aware of how your boobs were trying to escape the corselet’s dictatorship. “I asked you…” He bellowed “are you surprised?” he finished in a lower tone.

“Y-yes.” You finally said. “Never thought of it.” You looked at the ground, discovering a puddle where you were standing.

“You sound like an outsider.” He ruminated, more to himself than to you.

“I kind of am.” You confessed, thinking about the cabins. “I am from the cabin people.”

“Hm… Interesting.” He glanced at you, head to toe, you couldn’t help feeling heated as you never felt before. “Sorry about the rain.” Heisenberg shrugged. “I am a busy man.” He justified, mischievously, remembering you of the anger you felt back at the bridge.

The lord left you alone for a second, walking past through a curtain. You followed him into a small improvised office area with photos all over a wall, it pictured the Village, the lords’ lots and Mother Miranda, a big poster of her right in the middle. It had a knife scratch on it. Maybe Heisenberg wasn’t a family’s man after all.

You were regaining your confidence as he was distracted with the pictures – or you thought he was, unable to really see what he was picturing –, you were seeking for a good ambiguous thing to say about waiting so long for that sort of reception, however, he was quicker and made you gasp, almost choke.

“Take ‘em off.” It was an order said firmly. The way he looked at you, as if he was some kind of authority, gave you the chills.

“Them?” You innocently asked, placing a hand on your belly, trying to breathe.

“Your wet clothes.” He explained, pointing to your entire body.

“All my clothes are wet.” You insisted, flushing heavily.

He took his very own overcoat off and handed it to you. You hesitantly accepted it, not knowing exactly what to do with his eyes on you.

“For fuck’s sake.” He turned away, chuckling.

You waited half a second to be sure he wasn’t secretly looking, you didn’t know if there were cameras in the room, so you started undressing. It wasn’t a very easy dress to take off, you couldn’t reach the laces on your back, because of that, you had to ask for his help.

“Can’t even take off your own clothes, kitten.” Heisenberg mocked, as his adept hands slowly, playfully, untied the laces.

His touch was warm, he slipped his hand and you felt his calloused fingers on your skin, your body hair immediately responded husking and an electrical current flowed through you, lightening your eyes, reverberating to your core. He also felt that and some other things that made him put away his hips, but once you were facing the entrance, you couldn’t see his reaction and only heard a small movement of boots.

Lastly your dress fell to your feet and you covered yourself with his bulky overcoat, feeling better as you inhaled his aroma so intensely you almost fainted with those mechanic flavours petting your skin and his body warmth heating you.

“Now, enough chit-chat. Your duties.” He broke the silence as you finished tying the fabric belt around your waist.

“Yes, sir.” This time it was him who took a deep breath, seeming a little bothered somehow like he could use some time alone.

He had been a lonely man. You didn’t hear other people, well, living people, in the factory the next days and realised it was only you and him. It must have felt weird having someone around after years of living like an eremite. Even with all the jokes and that cheap charms, the view of him tilted to the investigative board gave you the impression that it was a bit too much having you there all at once and decided to put your rain resentments aside ang give him a chance and some space.

“I need some cleaning. I am expanding some experiments and I need to use a new wing for it, but it’s really messy.” You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he had a grin adorning his scarred lips.

“I will do it.” You said, a little disappointed that this was your choir and surprised you were expecting something more… Dangerous? Exciting maybe?

“Of course you will.” He was leaned on the office desk, not even looking at you anymore, suddenly sold out. “One more thing.”

“Yes? What is it, sir?” Heisenberg shook his head making his grizzly hair dance as if getting rid of a thought. It wasn’t clear if he was still having fun or being disturbed by something.

“There is only one bed in this factory.” You turned stone cold with that announcement, abruptly conscious of all the blood running through your veins.

A secluded part of your mind, a usually quiet one, whispered a thought: It would be good to see where his blood is running to.

“Unless you want to sleep in a stretcher.” He added, laughing vigorously, giving you the chills again.

“Oh no, I will take the bed.” The answer came easily as if it was always there.

You took your wet clothes and belongings after he told you how to access the bedroom and you left him alone to it, whatever it was.

#resident evil #re8 #karl heisenberg #re village #karl heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 village #heisenberg #heisendaddy #heisenberg resident evil #resident evil viii #resident evil 8 fanfic #original post #resident evil village #re8 karl heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #fanfic #re fanfic #the harvest

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

Text

raven sun (Ch. 2/4)

for @mdzsbingo prompts “rarepair, mission, hostile, paranoia” (cont.)

Ship: Jiang Cheng / Wen Ning

Summary: Wen Ning becomes possessed by a vengeful spirit. Unfortunately, Jiang Cheng is the closest target.

Rated M, contains nonsexual but dubconny dom/sub elements in later chapters

When A-Yuan and the juniors were in need, Wen Ning had frozen. Had been useless. Had required help instead of offering it.

What if they hadn’t been able to fend for themselves?

He doesn’t want to imagine it.

Read on AO3 or on Tumblr below

Wen Ning’s first thought is that he must be possessed.

Resentful energy churns inside him, responding to something. But he doesn’t know whether it’s the figurine spirit reaching inside his mind, or just his imagination.

All he knows is that Jiang Wanyin is shaking him, that voices are calling, that he needs to protect A-Yuan.

It all presses in on him, crushing him, even as the world spirals into the distance.

He tries to use calming breaths to steady himself, the way Jiejie had taught him to, but it doesn’t ground him the way it used to when he was alive.

Vaguely, he thinks to open a satchel of strong-smelling herbs to shock himself into clarity, but he won’t sense the aroma well enough with his deadened senses…

White fog spreads.

The ground fades away.

Rain.

Lightning flashes. Chenqing sings. Voices scream.

Bones shatter under his fingers—

Something is wrong with the melody.

He plunges his hand through a golden peony.

Stains it red.

Never meant to kill him—

The crimson silk fades, replaced by candles and curtains.

Blood weeps from his palm as he holds back a saber’s blade.

He is a blade, comes Jiejie’s voice.

A very precious blade…

A bell chiming.

Slowly, Wen Ning’s sense of sight returns.

He’s kneeling on the ground, head spinning. He looks up to see Jin Ling, who abruptly stops ringing the clarity bell.

Jin Ling breaks into a grin. “Finally!”

“J-Jin—” Wen Ning stutters out.

“You’re okay!” Lan Jingyi exclaims, his grin even wider than Jin Ling’s.

“We were so scared,” Ouyang Zizhen says.

A lighter set of bells jingle. Something wet slides across Wen Ning’s face, and suddenly half of his vision is obstructed by something gray and fluffy.

“Fairy, stop that! He just woke up!” Jin Ling grabs the dog by the scruff of her neck and tugs her away.

Wen Ning thinks he might be shaking. Someone wraps their hands under his arms and helps him to his feet. They push in on the sides of his arms, squeezing him, providing comforting pressure that helps him center his awareness.

He glances over his shoulder to see who is hugging him, and finds A-Yuan smiling, a hint of concern in his eyes. At the sight of his nephew unharmed, the tension inside Wen Ning relaxes, relief washing over him.

“It’s okay. Everyone’s safe,” A-Yuan says. “We’ve suppressed the spirit.”

Wen Ning nods, not quite able to speak.

“How do you feel?” A-Yuan asks.

“…I…I’m okay…”

Jin Ling crosses his arms. “You better be! Could you have taken any longer to wake up? I was ringing that bell for ages.” But the joy in his eyes belies his sharp words.

“Yeah, please don’t do that again, Wen-qianbei,” Lan Jingyi says. “Jin Ling almost cried.”

“I did not!”

“If it makes you feel any better, I almost cried too,” Ouyang Zizhen says to Jin Ling.

Wen Ning senses his hand clenched around something cold and hard, unable to let go. He stares down at the object as he pries his fingers off one by one, surprised to realize it’s the empty sheath of Jiang Wanyin’s sword.

Dazed, he gives a raspy laugh, somehow finding all of this absurd. “What happened?”

As soon as he asks, anxiety takes root in his stomach again. He’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

What had he done? Had he put anyone in danger?

“I think you…froze,” A-Yuan says. “By the time we finished suppressing the spirit and came over, you’d completely lost consciousness. It took a while to wake you up.”

“That’s all?”

A-Yuan nods.

It doesn’t give Wen Ning much reassurance. Guilt twists inside him, guilt at having frozen when the juniors needed protection.

He raises the silver-violet scabbard in his hand. “How did I get…” Jiang Wanyin’s sword.

A pang of worry grips him.

Where is he?

“You—” A-Yuan starts to say.

He’s cut off by Jiang Wanyin’s stentorian voice. “Doesn’t matter. I’d like it back now that you’ve stopped daydreaming.”

Jiang Wanyin is off to the side and scowling, arms crossed, leaning against a tree to support his injured leg. Jin Ling takes the scabbard from Wen Ning and hurries it over to him. He sheathes the sword in one clean motion, then turns his face away from the group as Jin Ling returns.

A feeling of foreboding sinks in Wen Ning’s chest, but seeing how calm the juniors are, he tries to let go of it. “How did you suppress the spirit? I’m…I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to—”

“Don’t apologize!” Ouyang Zizhen says.

Lan Jingyi nods emphatically. “Yeah, that was one of the coolest night hunts ever, and we did everything ourselves!”

“You mean…Jiang-zonghzu didn’t—”

“No, we handled it all,” A-Yuan explains. “We figured out that we could use our outer robes and an entire wad of Spirit-Replenishing Talismans to trick the spirit into sensing an unshielded body to possess. Once the spirit left the figurine and attempted to possess the decoy, a guqin melody was able to immobilize it.”

Grinning, Lan Jingyi holds up a wriggling Spirit-Trapping Pouch. “It’s in here. It’s very unhappy.”

Wen Ning swells with pride. “Great job! That was a clever strategy.”

“We easily outsmarted that spirit on our own.” Jin Ling lifts his chin. “I don’t know what these three were calling for help for.”

“Oh really?” Jiang Wanyin cuts in. “Then why were you calling the loudest out of anyone? Next time, if you don’t need help, don’t act so desperate for it.”

I was worried about you, Wen Ning hears beneath Jiang Wanyin’s words, and is unsettled to discover he can read him so easily.

“Jiujiu—”

“Be quiet!” Jiang Wanyin snaps.

Jin Ling scoffs and turns away.

Jiang Wanyin sighs, pinching his temples. “I’m glad you’re all safe. But, if you don’t mind the interruption to the Ghost General’s welcome back party, we still have a lot to discuss.”

Frowning, he locks eyes with Wen Ning, his gaze oddly intense. A few uncomfortable moments pass before Wen Ning looks away, which makes him feel like he’s lost some kind of contest.

They all gather around Jiang Wanyin to straighten out the remaining logistics of the night hunt. Namely, how to appease the figurine’s spirit so it’s no longer a threat. As usual, Wen Ning and Jiang Wanyin let the juniors do most of the talking, giving them the freedom to work through the options themselves.

Despite how happy Wen Ning is for the junior’s success in capturing the spirit, shame and guilt creep around him like thorny vines, cutting into him.

When A-Yuan and the juniors were in need, he had frozen. Had been useless. Had required help instead of offering it.

What if they hadn’t been able to fend for themselves?

He doesn’t want to imagine it.

More lingering questions float through his mind—why did he wake up holding Sandu’s sheath, for one thing—but he tries to lay them to rest for now, focusing on the juniors’ conversation.

“We could pay respects to the family that used to live in the farmhouse,” A-Yuan suggests. “Maybe if we ensure that their graves are attended to, it will lessen the spirit’s anger.”

Jin Ling shakes his head. “It’s worth a try, but that won’t solve the actual problem. The figurine gained its resentful spirit by watching the family turn against each other and murder each other.”

“Hm...that’s true,” A-Yuan replies. “A peaceful burial won’t erase the anguish the spirit had witnessed before the family died.”

A few moments of silence pass as the juniors think.

“What if we show the spirit a family that gets along well? Lan Jingyi says.

Jiang Wanyin narrows his eyes at him.

“You mean…” Ouyang Zizhen strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Show it that not all families end in betrayal and carnage? Let it see that there are ways to live in harmony, even when disagreements arise?”

“Yeah, I guess so!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jin Ling says. “What, should we put on a skit for the spirit? Have Wei Wuxian come raise the family’s corpses and force them to act out a reconciliation?”

Something primal inside Wen Ning reacts to the word “force,” causing his shoulders to tense.

“Don’t speak nonsense,” Jiang Wanyin snaps. “This is serious.”

Jin Ling sniffs. “Wei Wuxian probably could help us—”

“I thought you wanted to do this yourself.”

“—just not with a method so stupid,” Jin Ling mutters the rest under his breath.

The juniors continue discussing how to appease the spirit, although their conversation is more subdued. Wen Ning pays careful attention, considering their suggestions quietly to himself. But he can’t keep his mind from wandering.

He also finds himself stealing glances at Jiang Wanyin, wondering what he might be thinking.

Jiang Wanyin always tenses whenever one of the juniors mentions Wei Wuxian. And if Jin Ling mentions Wei Wuxian, his discomfort is even more noticeable.

It’s no secret that Jin Ling spends a lot of time with Wei Wuxian—night hunting with him, hosting him in Jinlintai, visiting him in Cloud Recesses. Wen Ning has heard the stories firsthand from Wei Wuxian, who speaks so much about Jin Ling that Wen Ning can vividly picture moments he hadn’t even been present for: the time Jin Ling shot an arrow across the full length of a Lanling garden, or laughed so hard he snorted hot soymilk out his nose, or got teary-eyed while cooking lotus pork rib soup with Wei Wuxian.

Sometimes he catches the tail end of a conversation between Jin Ling and his uncle, some remark implying that Jin Ling has been trying to get his uncle to talk to Wei Wuxian.

But despite Wei Wuxian’s closeness to Jin Ling, he and Jiang Wanyin are still barely on speaking terms.

But this matter is beyond Wen Ning’s concern. What matters to him most is Wei Wuxian’s happiness, however he chooses to seek it.

Although…Wei Wuxian does have a habit of sabotaging his own happiness.

Wei Wuxian has hinted that he misses his shidi. But Wen Ning doesn’t know whether the man he misses is the Jiang Wanyin of the past or present.

Sometimes he wonders how much he’s responsible for their fallout.

There are times he regrets revealing the truth to Jiang Wanyin.

Regrets allowing the core transfer to happen at all.

He takes a breath and centers himself. He has endured losses of his own. However much he questions himself, however much he wants to undo the past—there is only so much he can control.

Wen Ning’s undeath has been a continual parley with control, a fraught dance of his emotions and resentful energy. He has learned that control is never a simple thing.

He wishes it were.

He tunes back in to the juniors’ conversation and tries to piece together what he’d missed. It seems that the question of how to appease the spirit is still unresolved, and now they are discussing where to keep the spirit.

“We can take it to Cloud Recesses and find a way to appease it there,” A-Yuan says.

“We could.” Ouyang Zizhen shrugs and glances at Jin Ling. “The outskirts of Lanling are closer, though.”

“We are in Yunmeng Jiang territory,” Jiang Wanyin says flatly.

The juniors all look over at him.

“There’s no need to discuss where to house the spirit. I will take it to Lotus Pier for the night.” When a ripple of disappointment runs through the group, he adds, “For safe-keeping. You can still finish your work with it in the morning.” He nods toward the wreckage of the farmhouse, which is still smoking from the explosion. “The ruins reek of resentment. There’s a lot to clean up in the meantime. You should start now.”

After the juniors exchange glances, Lan Jingyi hands the Spirit-Trapping Pouch to Jiang Wanyin before heading back to the wreckage with Ouyang Zizhen.

Jin Ling and A-Yuan hang behind.

“I’m fine,” Wen Ning says to A-Yuan. “I’ll come over in a moment.”

Reluctantly, A-Yuan nods and follows Jingyi.

Jin Ling approaches his uncle, gesturing down at the curse wound on his leg. “Are you able to fly back to Lotus Pier?”

“Of course.”

Wen Ning quietly doubts that. But he walks away slowly to give them space.

“But your leg—”

“I said ‘yes.’”

“Why do you always—"

“Respect your elders!” Jiang Wanyin snaps.

Jin Ling huffs. “Fine! Whatever!”

Wen Ning looks back at them. Jin Ling starts to leave, but Jiang Wanyin puts his hand on his shoulder and stops him. They stay like that for a few moments, Jin Ling staring moodily at the ground, Jiang Wanyin shifting his jaw, his expression conflicted but surprisingly soft.

Wen Ning picks up his pace, heading toward A-Yuan at the wreckage.

“…You did a good job,” Jiang Wanyin says quietly, voice fading as Wen Ning moves farther away. “I could hear everything while you and the others were suppressing the spirit. You’re acting more and more like a leader on these night hunts.”

Jin Ling mumbles something, flustered.

“That is, when you aren’t spouting nonsense and making a fuss. You’re lucky that Lan Sizhui sticks around you. He has a lot more sense than you.”

“Hey!—”

“Now get to work.” Jiang Wanyin’s voice is gruff, but Wen Ning thinks he can hear a smile in it.

His face slightly pink, Jin Ling runs past Wen Ning, with Fairy trotting along behind him.

Wen Ning still doesn’t harbor the friendliest feelings toward Jiang Wanyin. Especially not after their unpleasant conversation about possession earlier.

And yet, sometimes…he doesn’t seem that bad.

But in the end, that isn’t what matters. What matters is that Jiang Wanyin is still injured, and Wen Ning has both medical skills and unanswered questions.

He turns around.

* * *

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, come visit me on AO3!

#mdzsnet #theuntameddaily #mdzsbingo #mxtxnet #jiang cheng #me posting fic 3 times in 4 days?? who am i #wen ning #chengning #ningcheng #mdzs #cql #the untamed #emilu fics #emilu creations

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a-libra-writes · 3 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 6

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (?)

Summary: Ned finally returns to his childhood home, to the happiness of his siblings and Y/N ... though she’s also beside herself with nerves. As it turns out, the two of them are awkward teenagers.

Use this chrome extension to replace “Y/N” with a different name :)

“That’s the last of it, milord.” The servant tightened the leather straps on the wooden trunk, ensuring they were secure. Once satisfied, he nodded to the guide that would be taking the young Lord Stark down the mountain. The man was withered, but he expertly steered his mules, or so they said. Ned hadn’t realized how many possessions he’d collected in his years in the Eyrie, and felt bad for making the beasts carry so much.

The old mountain guide said it was fine, and it wouldn’t unbalance them. “You worry about stayin’ on that mule, milord. When’s the last time you descended?”

He thought about it. “Four years, mayhaps more.”

“Aye, it’s much the same. It’s still spring, it will warm quickly as we go down.” The old man guided him to one of the mules, a shaggy, dark brown one with long ears. Ned thought it was cute in an ugly way, and climbed up. He kept his eyes forward, ignoring how the Eyrie hung above them. He remembered the first time he climbed up here, terrified he’d fall the entire way, and then afraid the Eyrie would somehow fall from the sky and plummet to the ground.

I’ll be the one doing the plummeting, if this beast missteps. Ned was mostly, probably confident that wouldn’t happen. He wondered what sort of mule they gave Robert, the beast of a man. He couldn’t imagine his friend sitting quietly for the better part of the day. That thought made him smile a little, and sigh. Robert left a month ago, and now it was his turn. It was a bittersweet goodbye to Robert and then to Lord Arryn. The first month I couldn’t stop thinking about Winterfell, how I wanted to go back. It hurts to leave now.

It hurt, but it was time to go. He wanted to see his family again, to see Winterfell, and the godswood, and Wintertown and the forest surrounding them. He’d smell pines and fresh earth again — gods know the Eyrie sorely lacked in both — and the animals that ran through those woods. He wondered what had changed, what was the same.

Suddenly, Ned recalled a letter where Y/N described the repairs on one of the towers, the old one that was slowly crumbling. That made him remember the last one he sent, and he covered his face with a groan.

“Doing well, milord?” The guide asked, looking back. “Don’t look down.”

Ned merely nodded, glad the guide and the other servants were too busy navigating to notice his stupid face. Why had he written that? Why did he send it? She must be think he was an utter fool. She hadn’t even sent anything back yet.

No, letters are slow to the Eyrie, and I’m leaving, besides — perhaps it was lost.

The thought of Lord Arryn receiving it and sending it back was mortifying, even if the man would never read it. For days Ned’s mind had been racing about Robert’s departure, his own journey, and the stupid words he wrote down. He’d repeated them so many times in his head, hoping he was misremembering.

He groaned and laid his head on the neck of the mule. It smelled awful, but he stayed there. Y/N must have thought him a complete fool, how would he face her once he came home? It would be a long, long journey.

What in the seven hells did he mean by that?

Y/N stared at the words, her eyes running over them, which was a pointless act. She’d memorized these lines in particular, able to recall them in spite of her attempts to keep busy. She hadn’t responded, because how could she? Anytime she sat down and began to dab her quill, the butterflies battered against her stomach. She’d set her quill on the page, watching the ink soak into the paper, but Y/N only managed a few sentences before fumbling, misspelling a word, dripping ink everywhere and just giving up. She’d thrown several pages into the fire already.

I’m being ridiculous, I’m overthinking. Aren’t I? Hasn’t he always said kind things to me? Why is this different?

A week ago, Y/N dug through her box of letters saved over the years, hoping to assure herself. That was a mistake. She read through things she’d forgotten, phrases she remembered, looked over the little drawings he attempted, and her butterflies became relentless. She had to put the letters away and spent the entire day flustered and distracted.

She rubbed at her face and sighed heavily. She put the letter out of sight, knowing it wouldn’t be out of mind for a while. She ought to stop procrastinating, to send something back already; it’d been almost three weeks. Or was it four? She’d been procrastinating with everything imaginable — long boring books, needlework, studying maps, playing music, even riding.

I have to answer eventually. I really am thinking too much. Just write something safe! Something boring!

Instead of doing that, Y/N left her room and looked for something to do. Perhaps if she could talk about her feelings it would help, but she couldn’t. Not even to Lyanna. Her friend had stopped reading the letters, preferring to send her own, and Y/N was sure they weren’t as frequent… That, and she couldn’t imagine letting anyone read what she wrote or drew now.

Is it strange, how often we write? Has anyone noticed? A little voice nagged at Y/N. She and Ned were well past the age of innocent friendly correspondence. She didn’t speak much about it, secretly worried she’d be told to stop. The idea of getting “caught” wasn’t pleasant, but the idea of stopping was worse. The correspondence had become a comfort, a way to raise her spirits, warmth and confidence in her heart. She understood how some would find that emotion improper.

A servant hurried past Y/N, nearly hitting her and knocking her right out of her thoughts. The boy called an apology and kept running. In the great hall, she saw half a dozen men moving boxes, and one of the elder servants giving them orders. Savory smells came from the kitchen, and peaking inside, Y/N saw the cooks and their girls busy chopping and stewing.

She tried to recall the last time Winterfell was this abuzz. The death of Lady Stark cast a dreary curtain over the castle, and while it was gradually lifting, a feast still felt out of place. Brandon was away again, but there was never a big to-do for his return.

“Found you!” Lyanna called to her, and Y/N jumped. It was absurd how much she’d been lost in her head as of late. She was glad Lyanna didn’t tease her; instead, the girl asked, “Why is everyone so restless today?”

“I was just thinking that. Did you see the kitchens? I can’t imagine why we’d need so much sausage and stew.”

“They’re making dessert, too! I’d ask my father, but I can’t find him anywere.” As they talked, Lyanna and Y/N walked outside to one of the many yards inside Winterfell’s walls. Just like inside, there was a flurry of activity, things being moved and cleaned. Lyanna said half the horses had been taken, perhaps on a hunt for fresh stag. A sudden thought struck her, and she turned on her heels to face Y/N, nearly knocking the girl over in the process. “Y/N, what if… what if my father finally decided—?”

“He didn’t,” Y/N replied instantly. “He would tell you, Lyanna. It won’t be a surprise. Maybe something happened and he’s gathering some bannermen on short notice; maybe it’s about Brandon’s wedding. He has been gone for the better part of a month.”

“That’s all true,” Lyanna said, although she didn’t sound comforted. “Perhaps Father is entertaining some ladies for him. Oh, gods, we’ll have to make smalltalk with them…”

They sat on one of the many carts strewn about the yard, following the activity. Predictably, Y/N’s mind wandered to Ned, and she kept her sigh from escaping. She glanced at Lyanna, half-listening to her friend chatter about a hedge knight that visited months ago. He showed off some jousting in the yard for their amusement, and Lyanna was still enamored. Y/N’s thoughts were wholly preoccupied with the terrifying idea of telling her about the letters, the ones that had gradually become far less proper and more personal.

Suddenly Lyanna asked, “Did you have any plans today?”

“I have a feeling if I did, you’d pull me away.” Y/N said. “Why?”

“Do you still have your old brown cloak?”

Those grey eyes were gleaming with some sort of mischief. Perhaps it was the restlessness of the people around them, or her own anxious thoughts… but rather than steer away from trouble, Y/N turned toward it.

There were small collections of cottages directly outside the walls of Winterfell, mostly farmers and butchers who directly served the castle, and offered board to travelers during the large feasts. But if someone really wanted to find something interesting, they’d go to Wintertown. These were the more prosperous smallfolk, the merchants, innkeeps, blacksmiths, and so on. There was even a small sept, although most Northern townspeople had little use for it. Y/N had come here only a dozen times; to go, she and Lyanna would need an escort, and Brandon wasn’t eager to follow two silly girls around.

As far as they were concerned, the matter of an escort was silly now that they were women. Lyanna had no fear as she put on an old cotton dress and her grey cloak, while Y/N wore her brown and black dress she saved for riding and a deep blue cloak. Y/N tucked her pearl and jewelry away, and Lyanna pulled her own dark brown hair out of its braid until it was all around her shoulders, wild and free. The girls snuck quietly out into the yard, avoiding servants and guards, then drew their hoods up once they reached the gates. They waited, then Y/N pointed. Three sworn guards were distracted with a complaining merchant, and they slipped past the gate.

Once outside, they kept their hoods up, but giggled to one another. After walking a mile, they came across a farmer on the way to Wintertown, and asked if they could ride in his cart. The old man squinted at them, trying to focus his gaze.

“Are ye girls the swineherder’s daughters? Jeyne and … Milly, was it?”

“That’s our names. Can you take us to town?” Lyanna asked, putting on a false voice. When the old man agreed, she grinned so broadly, Y/N had to nudge her and give her a warning look. They hopped into the back of the cart and chatted while it swayed and hobbled along. The last time, it was an hour of walking before a cart passed by.

It’s good to see her like this, happy again. Y/N thought, glancing to her friend as Lyanna chatted. It’s been a dreary six moons. Or has it been longer?

Lyanna hadn’t been herself the whole time. Since her mother died, everything was bleaker. For the first moon, she just wanted to stay inside. After that she’d go out riding for hours at a time, and for once, Lord Stark didn’t scold her for it. Sometimes she’d rage, pick fights with Brandon or a guardman’s boy. Sometimes she’d just stay in bed. Those days were always the bad ones, Y/N knew, and she’d stay with her, writing or drawing or doing needlework while Lyanna laid there.

They’d get far worse than a scolding if they were caught at this game, but she just wanted Lyanna to be happy again. Wintertown was in sight, and they thanked the old man and hopped off his cart, too excited to wait for his mules to take them any farther. Y/N took Lyanna’s arm so they’d at least stay together, and they were off.

Just like the last time they visited, the town was buzzing. Thoughts of Ned’s words and Lyanna’s sadness quickly faded in the back of Y/N’s mind as they followed whatever interested them. A girl half their height was herding a group of sheep through the middle of a wide street, a woman was selling bolts of impossibly colorful fabric and thread, a blacksmith was loudly working on a sword. The girls watched all of it.

“Wait!” Y/N patted Lyanna’s arm excitedly, distracting her from the molten-hot red sword and the hammer that was beating down on it. “Do you see that?” She pointed.

Lyanna squinted. “That stall over there?”

“Yes, let’s hurry! Maybe he still has some!”

“What are you talking about?” Lyanna laughed, but followed along. She quickly realized why Y/N was so excited: There was a variety of colorful, fresh vegetables, but more importantly… fruit.

“You buying?” The man asked warily, mistaking them for the lowborn girls they were dressed as. Back in their bedchamber, Y/N had to remind Lyanna to tuck away her direwolf pin. “I’m selling, not giving. You girls got coin?”

Y/N ignored his tone and asked, “Are these from White Harbor? My father worked the docks.”

“That so? He on one of the merman’s ships, or the ray’s?”

“The manta ray, at the Whitetide docks.”

The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. He nodded his head like he was familiar with this mystery sailor. “Aye, with Lord Caspian’s fleet? His ships are good ones. These fruit come all the way from Dorne and the Arbor, but they’re still fresh.”

Y/N could see that. Her heart was racing at the sight of peaches, oranges, limes, figs… of course, Lyanna’s eyes went straight to the lemons. She giggled and shook her head. “They’re better when they’re baked in cakes. Have you had an orange before?”

“Never. Let’s get some. Four, if we could?” Lyanna asked the man, and he handed them over. Four was all he had, and Y/N paid, feeling a little sorry for taking so many. She wondered if the common folk could afford fruits. This cold preserved them well.

They walked around the market idly, more interested in the treats they just acquired. Y/N taught Lyanna how to peel the orange and the wolf-girl was delighted with how sweet and juicy they were. “This is wonderful! Why aren’t we baking these into cakes?”

“I suppose someone tried, and it didn’t work out well,” Y/N mused. “My mother liked to squeeze them into her water, or she’d just drink the juice itself. When you preserve the peels and dry them, you can scatter them amongst your things to make them smell good.” She thought about her mother’s hugs, and her favorite parlor, and the strong smell of citrus and exotic flowers that permeated both. She was a Northern woman, but took to the wonders of Dorne and Essos and the Reach, little treasures brought in on her husband’s ships. It was how her father courted her: With baskets of fruit, tropical flowers, strings of pearls and giant conch shells. Y/N smiled, remembering how her mother lit up when she told her about it.

“I can promise you, my little pearl, one day you will have such kindnesses paid by someone who truly adores you.”

“You know so many things. All I know is passable dancing, and horses.” Lyanna said, breaking Y/N’s reverie, of which she was grateful for. The Stark girl rubbed at her chin where some juices at dribbled, and Y/N handed her a handkerchief.

“You know swords and lances well.”

“Aye, but I’m not allowed to use them.” Lyanna frowned, but it didn’t look like her mood was lowering. She eagerly bit into a second orange instead. Y/N sighed and put the handkerchief back into her reticule.

“Can I have the peels?” She asked.

“Are you going to put them into my riding boots?”

“Gods, I’d need a bushel to mask that scent.”

Lyanna didn’t want to throw her precious orange, so she settled for lunging and chasing Y/N instead. Y/N shrieked and ran, glad for the headstart: Lyanna had to chew and swallow her orange pieces properly before tearing after her. Lyanna’s old dress was short enough that she didn’t have to pull up the skirts, but Y/N had the lighter cloak. She shrieked again as Lyanna grasped for it, but missed. “I’ll get you for that!” The girl hollered. “Come back, Y/N!”

They laughed and chased each other around the town like children, and no one cared. Some older women noticed and scowled, and a few children laughed and followed for a while, but no one stopped them. No one grabbed their ears and admonished them for the messy hair, dirty clothes and sticky orange-flavored fingers. They were little girls again, not proper ladies of five and ten, daughters of Stark and Caspian.

Y/N stopped suddenly, then yelped as Lyanna tackled her to the ground. She squirmed and coughed. “Lyanna! You’ll kill me!”

“Don’t start fights you can’t finish!” Lyanna responded. She realized Y/N was still winded and moved off her. “Oh, are you hurt?”

“No,” Y/N sat up and blinked the dust out of her eyes. Satisfied, Lyanna flicked an orange peel at her. Y/N picked it off her lap and ate it. Lyanna made a face, like Y/N just ate the peel of a lemon — then she remembered she saw her friend do that, too.

“Do you hear that?” Y/N asked. It was the entire reason she stopped. Both girls kept still and listened. They were on the edge of Wintertown, their game taking them to the very end of it. Out here was a few modest homes and small gardens, a crumbling wall, and the road leading to Winterfell.

“Horses,” Lyanna said. She listened. “Several of them, moving at once. It’s probably a retinue.”

“Is it Brandon? I can’t recall when he was supposed to come home.”

“It would be bad for Brandon to find us like this and tell father,” Lyanna said, but she laughed. She was like her old self today. Suddenly, she said, “Oh. We should have saved an orange for Ben.”

“But not Brandon?”

“His Lordliness can get fruit whenever he wants. He can ride to the Reach and pick it himself.” Lyanna scoffed. She stood up, pulled Y/N to her feet and they both dusted their dresses and cloaks off. The horses were closer now, easy to hear without them staying quiet. It had to be Brandon, or a nearby lord. It was too much commotion for farmers bringing food.

The girls walked to the crumbling wall and crouched down, eager to peek at the banners. They weren’t foolish enough to openly stare, even if this was Wintertown, they weren’t entirely safe. Y/N had a vague thought that Lyanna might have a dagger in her boot, but that wasn’t real protection. She kicked herself for not bringing something of her own, even if she had no idea how to use it.

“They’re taking their time,” Lyanna muttered. “Has to be a lord. A lordling wouldn’t bring so many wagons, and a merchant wouldn’t be so slow. If it is Brandon, let’s throw rocks.”

“Let’s not.”

“Fine, a single rock. I won’t hit his horse, she deserves better. It could always be Ser Roderick, or the Pooles. Maybe even Cerwyn —”

Y/N pulled her back, lower against the stone wall. “Shh.”

Two horses passed, carrying modestly protected Northern guards. Then four more guards followed, dressed in different leather and armor. Y/N squinted, not recognizing the arms on their surcoats. It wasn’t anyone sworn to House Stark. Then, what they wanted: The banners.

One man held a direwolf, and another one held a blue falcon. Lyanna shot up, and Y/N stumbled, as she was still holding onto her.

Then she looked up, and jumped to her feet just as Lyanna had. They both stared.

It was Brandon, as they guessed, and someone else. They rode ahead, followed by a few more men, one of them a fully-armored knight who wore the crest of a sky-blue and white falcon.

“Ned!!”

Lyanna was gone. She tore across a small field to the road, and the guards stopped all at once, their hands flying to their hips. That action snapped Y/N to attention, but she could only stand and stare. She watched the boy — no, young man — beside Brandon turn in his saddle, and his grey eyes lit up with surprise and happiness.

Y/N thought someone was sitting on her chest, then something was trying to get out of it. She was choked up, the world was spinning, and she could barely hear the words Lyanna, Ned and Brandon were all saying. Lyanna nearly jumped up on the horse, but Ned swiftly dismounted. He only had a moment before he was being strangled in a hug.

Brandon got down from his horse and said something to the guards. The horses shook their heads at the commotion but Lyanna shouted again, and two of the knights laughed, and Y/N was still.

Then Ned looked up over his sister’s head, and met eyes with her. Y/N took a step forward, then another. She forgot she was wearing an old dress, a cloak that was now dirty from running about, that her hair was out of a normally tamed and styled braid. Ned held out his hand, as though she was close and not ten or fifteen feet away.

Y/N shyly walked down the field to the road, trying not to look at the guards, or Brandon. Lyanna pulled away from Ned and grabbed her arm, pulling her the last two feet. “What are you doing, Y/N? Come over here!”

She was pushed in front of him. He was different in some ways, but not many. Brandon towered above him and Lyanna was just a little shorter. Y/N smiled at that, but quickly looked to her hands, which smelled of oranges and still had a little stickiness on them.

“It’s good to see you again,” Y/N could only say. She thought of all the clever and interesting words she sent before, and how they were failing her horribly now. Her mind scrambled for something to say, something she had written before, something good, but it was all jumbled.

She didn’t look at Ned as he replied, “It’s good to see you too, Y/N.”

It was quiet, like they were the only ones, but that was quickly interrupted. Brandon was beside them, loudly teasing, “It’s Lady Y/N, brother. I thought the South was supposed to teach you all those stuffy manners.”

“She’s always been Y/N to us,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “More importantly, were you and father keeping this a secret?”

Her brother replied with a small smile. “Yes, it… it was supposed to be a surprise. I never imagined we’d meet you here.”

“And why are you two here?” Brandon crossed his arms. His good humor quickly left, as if he just took in their location and their clothes. He looked at Lyanna, then Y/N, and kept his attention on the latter. “Did you sneak out without a guard? Do you know how dangerous that can be? And why are you dressed like that?”

Y/N self-consciously pulled at her cloak as he questioned them, remembering the state she was in. Brandon’s words didn’t bother her, it was the realization that Ned hadn’t seen her in years, and this is what he saw as soon as he came back. Didn’t I have silly daydreams of him seeing me in the gown I made, or a new one? Why am I even thinking about that?

She was glad Lyanna and Brandon got into a little spat, to hide her embarrassment. She stepped behind Lyanna, half to shield herself, half to put some distance between her and Ned. She was steadily being overcome with an urge to hug him — wouldn’t that be natural? He was home now, but … it wasn’t that simple. So, she kept at Lyanna’s side, redirecting her attention on calming her friend.

“When I tell father about this, he’ll have words to say, especially since tonight he wants to hold a feast —”

“— If you tell him, I’ll tell about all that extra time you spend at the Rills!”

“It’s my job as heir to visit our bannermen and listen to their grievances!”

“Oh, yes, the pretty Ryswell daughters have much to say, I’m sure —”

Brandon went red and was ready to retort hotly, when Ned cleared his throat. He inclined his head to the men around them, all visibly impatient. Ned himself had some of that energy as he said, “Let’s go home.”

The way he said it, how could anyone continue to argue? Brandon stopped at once, knowing it had been years since his little brother had seen Winterfell properly. He patted him affectionately on the back, and Lyanna beamed. Y/N met eyes with Ned again, and they both turned away.

Brandon took his horse’s bridle. “Whose riding with whomst?”

“I’ll ride with Ned!” Lyanna blurted excitedly, and disappointment shot through Y/N so quickly, she felt a little sick. Don’t be stupid. That’s her brother, and she’ll just quarrel with Brandon, besides.

Brandon offered her a hand and easily swept her up on his horse. He asked if she was comfortable before swinging up himself, settling in like it was as easy as sitting in a chair. The problem is he put her in front, so his arms were loosely around her as he gathered his reins. Nervous as she was around these beasts, Y/N almost preferred riding behind him, although that was not always considered proper for a lady. Y/N had to hold onto him, especially with how far up she was. Brandon had a fine old destrier, once a great warhorse, still mighty and tall in her old age. She was perfect for taking him around the North, but Y/N thought she was entirely too big.

Lyanna happily settled in behind Ned instead of in front of him. Again, Y/N met his eyes. He had expressions that said so much, especially since he himself said little. She couldn’t read this one, though. Brandon called out, “Move on!” and the small escort went on the road. Y/N was thankful for the easy pace, and the steady gait of the destrier.

Her nervousness slowly settled as the four of them made conversation, with the Vale knight occasionally speaking up. Before long, the walls of Winterfell appeared before them, the proud white banners flying above. Ned looked up at the direwolf, and Y/N could swear some fatigue just melted right off him. The gates opened, and the guards keeping their station happily called to the boys, not noticing the state Lord Stark’s daughter and his ward were in. By the time their escort entered the yard, several servants, men-at-arms and children had come to see Ned come home.

Benjen pushed through all of them, eagerly running at his older brother. There was no shortage of hugs as Lyanna, Benjen and Ned reunited, while Brandon helped Y/N off the horse. Unlike his oldest brother, Benjen hadn’t developed an avoidance to his sister and her companion. He was only two years younger than them, and looked hurt as he said, “You all met him without me!”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Ned said again. “I crossed Brandon on the road by chance, and then these two—”

“Isn’t it a wonderful coincidence?” Lyanna grinned. She was still standing close to Ned, all but hanging off him. Y/N allowed Benjen to squeeze past her to get to Ned.

While the three chattered, Y/N asked Brandon, “You truly didn’t know? Where were you coming from?”

“Returning from the Karstarks. Father didn’t tell me a thing.”

Lyanna and Benjen began dragging Ned to the great hall, and now servants and guards started gathering, having realized who he was and all were eager to see him. Y/N smiled, pleased he was so missed… and only slightly glad he was moving further from her. She was anxious of what would happen if they were in a small group again, or worse, alone. She almost wanted to stay behind, but Brandon called to her, lingering back so she could catch up.

Being alone happened far sooner than Y/N anticipated.

The next morning, she stepped carefully through the snow, watching for roots just slightly sticking out. The sun was beginning to peak over the stone walls, helping her navigate the quiet yard. This route wasn’t yet familiar to her. She’d only made it recently, and often without Lyanna. Her friend wanted to mourn in quiet.

Y/N descended into the crypts. She shuddered instantly, feeling a far stronger cold take hold of her. Her footsteps echoed off the stone and she walked steadily toward her destination, passing statues of long dead Lord Starks and their sons.

Lady Lyarra did not have a sculpted sepulcher, but she had a beautiful tomb and marker for her bones. Y/N held her reticule close, bringing it to her nose so she could smell the crisp, dried oranges and give herself peace of mind. She hadn’t even visited her own family’s crypt.

She gasped as the shadows shuddered, nearly dropping the dried peels. The torches were scattered about, some not lit, making the shadows grow and recede with every second. She heard something just a few feet away.

Y/N bit down a curse as Ned came into view, the shadows circling around him. He blinked at her, his grey eyes almost looking black in the limited light.

“Y/N?”

“Y-You scared me,” She shuddered. “I didn’t — I didn’t think there would be anyone here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I…” Y/N paused. She couldn’t seem to steady her heart, not with Ned looking directly at her. He was so much taller than before. She turned away. “I wanted to pay my respects. To give a gift.”

He didn’t respond right away. Y/N thought of the letters, of the reassurances, the kindnesses she sent him when he finally heard the news of his mother’s passing.

Why was it failing her now? She squeezed the fabric bag between her fingers.

“You brought something for her?” Ned asked quietly. “Could I see?”

Y/N nodded. She stepped closer, but not enough to feel any warmth from him. The cold of the crypt was cooling her nerves. “Orange peels. I dried them. They… they smell nice.”

She felt foolish, but he smiled. It was slight, but it was there.

“This way.” He said. He took a torch off the wall and led her deeper in. Y/N forgot how far it truly was. The Starks had been dying for centuries, and soon they would have to dig deeper into the cave to make space for the future generations. Lyarra was buried next to her parents, neither of who had a statue either.

There were fresh blue roses on the grave, and older, smaller blossoms that had begun to dry and decay. Y/N recalled Benjen brought those. She arranged the orange peels neatly, happy with the fragrance they gave off in addition to the roses. Ned must have brought those.

She quietly prayed, and Ned kept quiet beside her, perhaps joining her, perhaps not. When she finished, her hands fell to her side. Her cold, bare fingers brushed with Ned’s, and she felt the soft wool of his gloves. His finger hooked around one of her’s, and she curled it.

“Ned, I don’t presume to know your feelings, but I can only imagine how much you must hurt. If I could only help — if you were only right here, instead of far away —”

“When I home come, I want to see you, and do all the things we said we would do. I want to watch you paint, and dance, and maybe ride a horse — because I know Lyanna will make us — but most of all, I want to hear your voice.”

Y/N felt her throat was dry, but she stayed put, wondering if her heartbeat could be heard bouncing off the walls. She knew if she looked at him, even with a glance, she’d lose all composure and just run away.

She almost did that, when a loud noise made them both jump nearly two feet apart. Ned instantly took her hand back to push her behind him, then touched his sword. He grasped the hilt and lifted it just an inch out of the scabbard.

“Gods!” Y/N let out a hard breath. The skinny orange cat that knocked the unlit brazier over. It didn’t have coal in it, but it still made a terrible racket. The cat hissed and ran back into the shadows.

“I see he’s still here,” Ned mumbled. He set his sword back, and his shoulders were still tight. “Damned creature.”

“He gets lost down here so often. If he were kinder, I’d carry him out.”

“If it’s the same orange cat from when I was a boy, he’d rather freeze to death than be touched for even a moment.”

Silly smiles graced their faces, in spite of where they were, in spite of why they came in the first place. Ned nervously touched the hilt of his sword. “Shall we return?”

As they stepped out of the crypt, Y/N had to lift her skirts to climb the stairs easier. Ned offered his hand, and she took it for the last few steps. He didn’t immediately let go, and she didn’t comment on it. Instead she asked, “Did they make you learn those manners in the South?”

“There’s all sorts of manners and noble bearing they expect. It’s exhausting,” Ned admitted with a shy expression, and Y/N couldn’t help but imagine him trying some sort of silly, formal dance she’d heard about.

“Give me an example.”

He stared at their connected hands, his ears and cheeks slowly growing redder. Y/N didn’t pull away, even if her own body was threatening to explode with nerves and heat.

She expected him to kiss her hand, like she’d hear the other girls gossip about. She felt his warm lips against her fingers, through her thin gloves, and it made her jolt. Some of his brown hair brushed against her arm. I might well and truly die now.

Ned coughed and hastily turned away from her, utterly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Th-that’s what Lord Arryn… what Lord Arryn said to do when … when meeting a lady…”

“Are you kissing other ladies?” She couldn’t help it. She giggled, the warmth in her chest bubbling up to her lips. Her hand felt like it was on fire. “Should I be jealous, Ned?”

Ned covered his face with his hands, and she laughed. She covered her own face to settle her silly, foolish giddiness. “Of course not,” He grumbled. “You’re the only one I ever spoke to, besides.”

“Oh, you must have talked to some in the Eyrie.”

“Some.” Ned’s grey eyes glanced to her. She met his gaze, and they held it as he continued, “Though I kept wishing you were there.”

Y/N had to look away again. She couldn’t giggle, her throat was stuck, her chest hurt and she hated how tongue-tied she was. She never imagined it would be this hard — whatever this was —

“What in the seven hells are you both doing?”

Looking through her fingers, Y/N watched Brandon saunter up to them. The older Stark tilted his head to his brother.

Ned could only manage to suspiciously avoid looking at him. Brandon glanced between them, and Y/N felt like she had done something wrong. She quickly said, “We were visiting the crypt to pay our respects.”

Brandon’s face fell, and he said little else. Y/N understood it would be time for breakfast soon, and the morning sun had long broken over the tall stone walls. The three of them walked back to the keep together, Brandon pointedly putting himself between Y/N and Ned.

#ned stark x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #salt & snow #libra fics

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