#<- very lightly implied...technically not even happening yet

[helsex]

you guys won't get the context of this scene for a couple chapters but here's band au exhels <3 no shading version below because i think it looks really good

[turtlecleric]

Unspecified iteration, Donnie and Mikey are there but only technically lol. Short, odd thing.

CWs: Implied serious injury, implied abduction, altered states of mind, very confusing to read, I'm sure

-

You don't know what's wrong with you. You can't keep your eyes open. Can't seem to move more than twitching a finger. Your body feels oddly heavy, and everything is all... jumbled? Distorted? Distortled?

Ha. Haha. That's not a word. That's funny.

Donnie's face is blurry above you, his words sounding warped and far away. You pick up on the urgency of his tone, though. Suddenly you're not smiling.

Something is very wrong. Something has shaken him. That almost never happens. His urgency should scare you, you think, and it does - but the alarm you feel is dampened. You're not as worried as you should be.

Wait, what's happening? You can't focus past the sharp pain in your head. It's hard to breathe, too, each inhale making the pain in your throat flare. Your throat? Why- why does your throat hurt?

"-e okay, okay? It's gon - fine."

It takes an enormous amount of effort hold your eyes open. You blink up at Donnie, still trying to keep your breaths even, and think very hard about what you're hearing as he continues to speak.

Oh. He's telling you it's going to be okay. That you're safe now. That's all. Of course it is. You're always safe when you're with the guys. If Donnie is here, you must be safe. That's just the way it is.

A burst of orange suddenly appears next to the purple. Mikey. Mikey's here.

"Leo and Raph are clearing the rest of the building. What do you need, Dee?"

There's a reply, but you miss it. Mikey's serious tone throws you off. Something must be wrong if Mikey's voice sounds like that. You hope he's okay.

There's a shift of color, and you're left with only orange to stare at. Mikey. Mikey's here. You think he asked you something, but you're not sure what it was. You try to respond anyway. All you manage is a soft sound, trapped behind lips that you can't manage to open. It hurts your throat.

What's wrong with you?

It's getting harder to keep your eyes open. You let them slip closed, then you feel someone lightly patting your cheek. Right. Mikey's here. When you open your eyes, you see that Donnie is back. You smile up at them. You missed them. Where are-

Wait. You missed them? What's happening?

"Don't go to sleep, okay?" Donnie. Donnie said that. Donnie's here. He says your name like it's a question. You don't know what he's asking you. All you can do is fight to keep your eyes open. You can only manage a few seconds each time before your lids drift closed.

You're feeling strange. The pain in your head is a constant, sharp, pulsing thing. You're so tired. You just want to sleep, and despite how quickly your heart is fluttering, you feel as if you could slip quietly into slumber within seconds.

"Stay awake, Angel," Mikey's voice says, drifting in your mind like smoke. "Come on, you're okay. Stay awake."

What's going on? Why is Mikey waking you up? You don't want to get up yet. Maybe you can bribe him with some pizza to give you 20 more minutes to rest. It's worked every other time you've tried it.

You're feeling strange. Someone is patting your cheek, gentle but insistent, while distorted sounds flow around you like a water current around a stone.

You miss swimming. That sounds lovely.

You wish whoever was shaking you would stop. Your head hurts a lot. And your throat. And you're so tired. Maybe you're sick?

Something is wrong. Donnie and Mikey are shouting. You can't make out the words, but they sound worried. You wonder if you might be able to help somehow.

You're being moved. It hurts, but the dizziness is worse. What's wrong with you? You're with Donnie and Mikey, right? Do they know what's wrong with you?

Maybe they'll tell you what it is when you wake up. You feel the darkness reaching for you. You reach back, falling into its embrace and letting it pull you under.

It's as easy as falling asleep.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 9) - Inner Demons

Summary: The reader meets Gen for the first time while the boys are having a day together. But when they come home early and Jensen overhears the reader, a very big discussion about what they both expect out of their relationship has to happen...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Skinny Dipping

Word Count: 5,100ish

Warnings: mature (language, skinny dipping, implied future smut, angst, self-doubt)

A/N: Please enjoy! Also written for @spnkinkbingo​

________

“No,” whined Zeppelin as Jensen carried him out of the bedroom for the third time that night. “Daddy, I want to sleep with you.”

“Zeppelin. You gotta be a big boy and go to sleep. It’s midnight and way, way past bedtime,” said Jensen. He started to cry loudly and Jensen set him down. “Do you want a time out? I’ll give you one first thing in the morning if you don’t behave.”

He ran over to you and grabbed your leg, burying his face in it. Jensen sighed, tired after a long day and you knew he needed some sleep. You squatted down and Zeppelin grabbed at you, shaking a bit. You frowned, Jensen catching it as you picked up the little boy. 

“He can stay,” you said. Jensen made a face but you carried him into the room, Jensen grumbling to himself. You let Zeppelin crawl into the middle and immediately grab his father when Jensen got under the covers. He was asleep quickly, Jensen kissing the top of his head. “He’s scared.”

“He had a tantrum. He’s four,” whispered Jensen. “He needs to sleep on his own or he gets dependent.”

“You’re his father. He’s already dependent,” you whispered. “He’s a little you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means he missed his daddy and he has been the one telling his sisters for three weeks daddy’s coming home soon. I don’t care if he sleeps in our bed, Jensen. Sometimes he has to be a big boy but not tonight.”

“He was very...he’s very much me,” he said quietly, fixing the blankets over his son. “He’s in tune with other’s emotions.”

“I know,” you said. “He’s a sweet boy.”

“When I was a kid, around seven or so, my dad went out to LA for about two months for work. We didn’t have the money for him to fly back and forth so he drove out there. He would call every night but it was long distance and it was expensive back then so all I got to do was say hi to him really. Somewhere in the middle of the two months he drove back to visit for a weekend. I was so excited. So, so excited. I was gonna tell him all about school and my baseball games and the jumping contest my brother and I had on the swings. I was so pumped. He said he was gonna be there Saturday morning for breakfast. Well, I wake up, run downstairs, he’s not there. Lunch rolls around, he’s not there. Afternoon snack time rolls around…”

“He’s not there?” you asked, Jensen nodding. “What happened?”

“Never left LA. Got in a car accident. He was fine but this was the eighties and my mom didn’t get a phone call until the afternoon saying he wouldn’t be coming home. I thought a hundred million things in my head of why he wasn’t there. That achy pit in your stomach. When he finally came home a month later, I slept in their room, in their bed. That little achy feeling went away after that night. I know how much he’s like me,” he said, lightly running his fingers over Zeppelin’s head. “But I gave him that part of me too and I wish I hadn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s too little to worry about me.”

“He’s okay and he’s not gonna worry after tonight. But Jensen, there’s nothing wrong with him having that part of you. It’s a really good part, the part that loves the people he cares about. Right now he doesn’t understand it but someday he will and that’s going to make him a person people will be fortunate to have in their lives. That’s a great part of you he got.”

“Just have to go and make me feel better, don’t you,” he said softly. He closed his eyes and smiled. “Think I’m doing an okay job at this?”

“Yup,” you said. Zeppelin turned over in his sleep, smashing his face into your arm. 

“You care for them,” said Jensen. You nodded and he burrowed down into the sheets. “Because of me or your job?”

“It always helps the job,” you said. “When you nanny, you want the kids to feel comfortable with you and caring about them always makes that easier. But I don’t...I don’t like them because I decided I liked their dad, you know?”

“Why did you then?”

“People with money sometimes let their children get raised by that money and you can tell when it happens. But it’s so obvious that doesn’t happen with them. They have nice toys and clothes and things but they’re good and funny and smart and they could very easily be brats if you went the easy route but you didn’t and it just shows. Sure they’re kids and they can drive anyone to the brink of insanity at times, but they got big hearts, especially for dad. I just like them and seeing them grow into those people more every day.”

“Me too,” he said, Zeppelin rolling back, fisting his hands into Jensen’s shirt this time. He smiled and you leaned over, kissing him goodnight, pecking one on Zeppelin’s head. “Night.”

“Night Jensen.”

The next afternoon when you arrived at Jared’s house you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Jared and Jensen were off doing who knew what and you felt like you’d been set up on a playdate yourself. You’d dropped off the kids there more than once already and knew their kids but for some reason or other you’d yet to meet Gen. You swallowed as you followed the kids around the side of the house, the three of them taking off to go play with their friends on a swing set. You looked around and bit your bottom lip, fixing your bag over your shoulder.

“Y/N?” called a voice. You turned and saw a woman behind you, a bit sweaty in some workout clothes. “Hey. I’m Gen. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Thanks. You too,” you said. 

“Come on,” she said, waving you to follow her up some steps to a patio. “Tom! JJ!”

“We know!” they shouted back from the swings. She shook her head and sighed.

“Not that any of the little ones can get over to the pool anyways but I want to remind them to keep an eye on the younger ones when I’m inside,” she said, showing you to a patio door. You followed her inside, Gen walking into a kitchen and going straight to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of cold water. 

“They have hair like their dad,” you said.

“Yes, yes they do. Getting them to get a haircut is like herding cats,” she said. She gulped down her water and let out a deep breath. “Do you mind if I shower quick? Time got away from me.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you said. 

“There’s a bathroom right around the corner there. Feel free to take whatever from the kitchen if you want. I’ll be back in ten,” she said. 

“No problem,” you said. When she was upstairs you went back outside, leaving your bag in a patio chair. You went down the steps and watched the kids running around for a moment before exploring their backyard. “Here I thought your backyard was nice Ackles.”

“Y/N, will you play tag with us?” asked Arrow from over in the grass.

“How could I say no to a face like that?”

Fifteen minutes later you were warm and taking a break under the patio again out of the sun, the kids playing on the slide and swings now.

“Remember when we had endless energy like that?” asked Gen as the back door opened. 

“Barely,” you said, a margarita glass set down in front of you. “I see we’re going to be very good friends.”

“It’s so hot out today,” she said, setting a pitcher and another glass down on the table. She poured you a glass and then herself one before taking a seat beside you. “I bet the boys are out jet skiing.”

“They really are like a pair of children when you get them together,” you said.

“Yeah but it’s cute. Most people don’t ever get to have a best friend like that,” she said. “Sometimes they need their space from each other but Jared’s literally been counting down the days until Jensen gets back.”

“I don’t think Jensen will ever stay away that long again. He missed his family and friends. Home,” you said. 

“We’re glad to have him back. He’s been gone for a while. Even before you went to Canada,” she said.

“Were you good friends with...” you asked, Gen nodding. “I’m sorry.”

“It sucked. Still does,” she said. “When the boys were off, we could hang out. We got very close. After the accident I was the one taking care of the kids, helping his parents and family with their day to day. Jared focused more on Jensen, helping him physically get back to normal and then mentally. But you know how he was when you met him.”

“I know a lot of work went into helping him get there. I’m very grateful he had you guys,” you said.

“Listen...I’m hoping we can be good friends too. It was different for me and Dee. We both were dating the boys around the same time, got married around the same time. I know we don’t have that and...I just hope we can have that relationship still.”

“Me too. I know we’re probably gonna be seeing you guys a lot now that neither of them are working,” you said.

“Probably most everyday,” she said. “They’re like twins separated at birth or something I swear.”

“Has Jensen always been a bit quiet?” you asked.

“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen that boy drunk off his ass and being a troublemaker but he’s always been that way. Maybe it’s why he and Jared fit. They’re protective of each other in different ways. Jared’s the loud one out of the two of them, always has been and Jensen, even if he is your best fucking friend, sometimes he’s a little bit quiet.”

“I figured as much. He’s just…”

“Gentle,” she said, a smile coming to your face. “You two are pretty serious, huh.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s been five months. I’d say it’s serious. You move in yet?”

“Technically I’ve always been moved in,” you said. She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “Yeah. We’ve gotten to the sharing a room stage very recently.”

“You must be very special then,” she said. “He was never gonna fall in love ever again. Told Jared and me himself. Now he’s as lovestruck as the first time around.”

“I’m not expecting…” you said, sipping on your drink. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Like I said, we can be friends without the boys,” she said. “What aren’t you expecting?”

“This,” you said with a shrug. “Marriage. Kids of my own. I don’t know where it goes with Jensen.”

“You should start having those talks with him,” she said, your head shaking. “You have to, just so you’re on the same page.”

“I don’t even know if we’re reading the same book,” you said. She nodded and you slumped back into your seat. “I know I love him and that he loves me. But I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“A friend once told me that’s all you need,” said Jensen behind you. You turned around and Jensen was standing there, a sad smile on his face. “We wanted to come hang out with you guys. Y/N?”

You got a smile from Gen as you followed Jensen inside, Jared slipping past and out back. You crossed your arms and looked down, Jensen stepping close to you, large hands resting on your arms.

“Why don’t you think it’s enough?” he asked quietly.

“It is. Gen and I were just shooting the shit,” you said, forcing your gaze up. He slid his hand down and took one of yours, pulling you over to a quiet sitting room. He sat down on a day bed, you going with him. 

“Honey. Tell me the truth.” He ran his thumb over the back of your hand as you crossed your legs. “Did I do something?”

“No. You’re perfect,” you said, glancing down to your lap. “All I was saying was...I don’t know where you stand on some things.”

“Like what?” he asked, still smiling softly, hiding all of the nerves underneath it.

“Kids. Marriage. The fact your family has never once met me or knows I exist. Am I just gonna be the nanny girlfriend or is there something more? I love you. I fucking love and I don’t need or want...I just want to know if you’re open to those things.”

“I don’t know,” he said. You nodded and moved your hand back into your lap, Jensen letting go of it. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “Like I said, we were shooting the shit.”

You were both quiet before you stood, Jensen grabbing your hand. He pulled you back to sit, plopping you straight down in his lap before kissing you.

“Okay I do know but the answers fucking scare me,” he said. “I said I was gonna stop being scared when it came to you.”

“Jensen, you don’t have to-”

“Yes, I would have more kids if it were with the right person. Preferably sooner than later but yes. Yes, I would marry again. Yes, I would introduce her to my family and yes they do know about her. Not as much as I’d like but they do know her. And lastly yes, I am open to more than just the nanny girlfriend, so much fucking more. All of it more. But that scares me that almost a year later here I am, open to all of those things, wanting those things with you when losing Dee hurt so much. It’s not fair to you that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, simple and normal and just the fun parts. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not asking you to stop loving her. God if you ever did, I don’t think you’d be the man I love. I just wanted to know if there’s room for a future in there maybe,” you said.

“You kinda got in there all on your own and I don’t want you to ever come out,” he said. 

“Ever?” you breathed out. “Cause that implies-”

“If someone’s gonna be that second person for me, I think…” he said, looking down. You rested your forehead against his, Jensen taking a deep breath. “I know you won’t wait for me forever to get my shit together.”

“Well, forever’s a long time. I can offer a few years at least?” you asked, Jensen laughing dryly. “What?”

“I don’t deserve a few years. Your emotions aren’t a toy to play with.”

“Yours aren’t something to drag along when they’re not ready.”

“See? You do that shit. You always do that fucking shit,” he said, his voice a few octaves higher. You wrapped him up in a hug, feeling a few drops of wetness hit your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“For crying? Jesus Jens, it’s okay,” you said. “I promise it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I keep tossing you around like you don’t have feelings too, like this isn’t hard for you too. It’s always me and my fucking problems with just…”

“Just what honey,” you said, Jensen holding onto you tightly, chin resting on your shoulder. 

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you said, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t want this to go away,” he mumbled out. “This is it and I feel like I’m gonna explode and-”

“Shush,” you said, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing his whole body as much as you could. He stilled briefly and calmed down some, sniffling to himself before you released to a gentler hold on him. “Just the anxiety talking.”

“I love you,” he said, lifting his head up, looking you straight on. “I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you and do everything with you. I’ve known those things for a very long time. Longer than you have and before you even thought of them as questions. I want all that and you’re gonna get stuck with me, with this, with the never ending baggage, with the baggage you haven’t even seen yet. All your life is gonna be is taking care of my ass and you getting hurt because of it. Is that what you want? Is it? Because I want so much fucking more for you than me.”

“Was that your proposal speech?” you asked calmly. He blinked a few times and narrowed his eyes.

“What? Y/N I-”

“Well you said you want to marry me and yeah, I fucking want to do that with you too so was that your speech?”

“What?” he asked so innocently you smiled. “I don’t…”

“I happen to like taking care of your ass. So. You want me gone, I’m gone. You want me to stay, I’m staying forever. What’s it gonna be?” you asked.

“Stay,” he said quietly with a nod. “Please don’t go away from us.”

“Okay,” you said. He leaned forward and kissed you, sniffling some more when he broke off. “Are you…”

“I can’t believe I just asked that while I’m covered in tears and snot,” he said. A box of tissues suddenly flung itself through the doorway, landing near your feet. You stared down at it and started to laugh, Jensen chuckling while you picked it up. “I’m never living that down.”

“Who gives a fuck,” you said. You took out a tissue and wiped off his face and eyes, having him blow his nose a few times. “That’s really gross.”

“I know.”

“Must be how you know it’s meant to be,” you said, wiping your hand off. 

“Stay forever?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah that sounds good.”

“Me too,” he said. He pulled you into a hug and you held him tight, the door sneakily shutting on the two of you when it started to pour outside and you heard the backdoor. “I bet that’s how you imagined that going.”

“I never thought it would happen,” you said. “Not when I first came here. Love’s for other people. Normal people with normal families.”

“Fuck normal,” he said and you laughed. You picked up a clean tissue and licked it, wiping off a dried tear streak on his cheek. “I feel good.”

“We’re gonna work on that bottling shit up stuff, okay?” you said.

“Maybe you’ll have more success than Dee did,” he chuckled. 

“I’ll just have to build off what she started,” you said. He nodded and cupped your cheek as you finished cleaning him off. “There, all better.”

“Guess you’re out of a nanny job,” he said.

“Oh such a shame,” you said. “I’ve been putting my paychecks for the last while to a separate account.”

“I did notice that,” he said. “Saving for something?”

“Wanted to give it back to you.”

“Honeymoon fund instead?”

“Okay, now we’re talking,” you said with a laugh.

“You never did tell me how much your book deal got you.”

“I signed a multi-year deal. They think there’s great potential for it to be one of those series every kid reads. One million for around twenty books?”

“Fuck. You should be my agent if you can negotiate like that,” he said.

“I’m still gonna take care of them like I have been,” you said. 

“I know. It’s probably going to be a million times harder now actually,” he said. You nodded and he smiled. “You love them.”

“Yes but I don’t know how to be a parent.”

“Just do what you’ve been doing and it’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll change but it’ll be good.”

“Not really how I was expecting today to go,” you said. 

“Me either. I had hoped for that to be a tad more romantic,” he said. You gave him a kiss and hug, Jensen returning it. “You don’t care.”

“Nah,” you said. “Just care about you. Everything else, I’m good.”

“Want to go share the news with our eavesdropper?” he asked. You helped him up to his feet and took his hand, walking out of the room, Jared and Gen suspiciously wiping down their kitchen counter. “Or should I say eavesdroppers.”

“We were concerned and I swear we left after Jared tossed the tissues in,” said Gen. Jared shook his head and pointed at her. “I swear he did it.”

“Guess you guys heard then,” said Jensen, giving you a smile. “We’re gonna give it a shot.”

“You okay?” asked Jared. Jensen nodded and squeezed your hand. “You sure?”

“I know what I want,” said Jensen. “I’ve known for a long time. Finally got over being scared is all.”

“She wasn’t gonna hurt you,” said Jared with a smile.

“I know. It was a different fear,” he said. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Promise.”

“You better not, sweetheart.”

It was dark by the time the storms had passed, all three kids going down easy after spending most of the day running around the Padalecki house. You sat on the balcony off of Jensen’s bedroom in the oversized lounge chair, Jensen sat on the other side of the small side table your drink rested on.

��I’ve never been on a boat before,” you said, staring up at the dark night sky, the only light coming from a few string ones Jensen had turned on.

“Never?” asked Jensen. “Better wear your life jacket tomorrow then.”

“You better wear your life jacket,” you said. “We both know I’m a better swimmer than you.”

“You’re a better swimmer than me? Me?” he chuckled. “No way.”

“Put your money where your mouth is. Five bucks says I’m a better swimmer,” you said. He waved the way towards the door and you stood up, walking downstairs and outside.

“Uh, you missing something?” he chuckled. You smirked and pulled off your shirt and undid your jeans, shimming out of them and leaving them by the patio. “You really think…” 

“I really think what?” you said, tossing your bra at him, leaving your underwear behind. You jumped in and swam out to the deep end. “You’re already losing Jensen.”

“Losing my ass,” he said, taking off his shirt and jeans, nearly tripping as he hopped out of his boxer briefs. He jumped in nearby and swam over to you, dunking his head under briefly. “I could get used to this look.”

“Nothing you’ve not seen before.”

“Never seen my fiance naked before,” he grinned. You rolled your eyes but swam over and gave him a kiss. “I knew you had a thing for dorks you know.”

“Did you now?”

“Told me yourself. Not a fan of cocky guys I recall.”

“Well...a little cock is okay. Highly recommended in fact,” you said. 

“You are such a loser,” he laughed.

“I must have learned it from you.” You giggled and swam back to the shallow end, Jensen lazily chasing after. “I’ve never skinny dipped until just now actually.”

“Got anything on your bucket list you want to try out?” he asked. You shrugged and took a seat on a step, Jensen settling in next to you. “Naked trounce on the trampoline?”

“Maybe another time,” you said. You leaned back and looked up at the dark sky once more. He reached over and held your hand in the water, playing with it quietly. “Skydiving would be cool. Space would be cool.”

“One of those is a lot more feasible than the other. I noticed up in Canada where we had more stars at night you really like looking at them.”

“Did it a lot as a kid. Kinda always have,” you said. “I like space as much as the next gal but it’s just pretty, you know? You’re one little speck out in all of those stars. It’s all so freaking complex but you can kinda look up at them and it’s just so simple too.”

“Yeah,” he said, toying with a strand of hair floating in the water. “I get that.”

You turned and found him staring at you, a smile on his lips. 

“We could go camping sometime, see all the stars there are up there if you’d like,” he said.

“We don’t have to do that,” you said. 

“Why?” he asked quietly. “I’m curious is all. It seems like something you’d really enjoy seeing.”

“What purpose does it serve though? It’s not something fun for the kids to experience,” you said. “It’s a waste of money.”

“It doesn’t have to have a purpose. It’s for you, for us. A night away where you get to see something most people don’t ever get a chance. That’s the only purpose,” he said. “Camping’s about the cheapest thing you can do. Don’t worry about the money. You don’t have to worry about that ever again.”

“I just don’t want to go camping,” you said. You looked down and swallowed. “I used to go camping with my dad a lot.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do that to me,” you said. “I just...I don’t think I ever want to go again.”

“Okay. Would you go camping with me sometime?” he asked. 

“Jensen-”

“Just me. No body else. I won’t even touch you except to cuddle,” he said. You nodded and he smiled. “Thank you. It won’t be scary this time. I promise.”

“Is your dad nice?” you asked. He leaned back against his elbows and nodded. “Does he know about me?”

“My parents know I have a girlfriend. My mom knows I was getting pretty serious about you,” he said. 

“Do they know I was the nanny? Or how old I am?”

“No. My siblings do but not my parents,” he said. You sat up and wrapped your arms around yourself in the warm night air. “I’m not embarrassed of you Y/N. I think that’s a conversation better had in person is all.”

“You haven’t told them because you think they’ll have a problem with it,” you said. 

“Not as much problem as when I say I’m not having a prenup,” he said. You turned your head and saw him smiling back. “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t trust you completely.”

“Jensen I don’t want to cause a problem,” you said. He shook his head and you sighed. “I know how close you are with them and you haven’t gotten to see them since Christmas. I know exactly what they’re gonna think of me when they hear about the former nanny.”

“You don’t seem to understand yet that you? Nobody is more important than you and those three in there. If they can’t accept you then screw ‘em.”

“Jensen.”

“I’m not worried and you know why? I love you and you love me. I know they love me a whole lot too so you’re on the same side.”

“You’re a bad liar,” you said. He sat up and sighed. “Jens-”

“I don’t know how they’ll act. But you deserve a chance and that’s what I expect out of them. I want them to love you too but at a minimum you’ll have their respect.”

You nodded and sunk down in the warm water, Jensen sliding over and taking a seat on your lap, tossing his arms around your shoulders. 

“You still talk to Dee’s parents right?” you asked. He nodded and wrapped his legs loosely around your waist. “Do they…”

“No,” he said quietly. “They deserve for that to be an in person conversation too. They’re coming up soon for JJ’s birthday soon. I figured I’d tell them then.”

“I’m glad you still talk to them,” you said. “They still see you guys.”

“Christmas was hard last year. I’m not sure which one of us got it worse,” he said. 

“I’d like to meet them if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out. “I’m not sure how they’ll react honestly.”

“I’d still like to,” you said, stepping out into the water with him, Jensen hanging off of you. “If only you were this light normally I’d carry you around all day.”

“Didn’t we agree a long time ago you were the badass princess after all,” he said, bumping his nose against yours. 

“Here I thought you’d be taller,” you teased, quickly kissing him.

“Little shit,” he grinned. He nuzzled your cheek and you let out a deep breath. “Don’t worry about them.”

“At least we don’t have to go through this on my side,” you said.

“Can I ask one thing of you?”

“What?”

“Ray, your mom’s boyfriend, did things end badly between the two of you or you just drift apart? You said you left when you finished high school.”

“I stopped talking to him awhile ago. I moved out at 18 when I got my first nanny job. He was dating his wife Sarah by then. I’d come over for dinner every few months for a few years. By the time I was twenty one they were married with two kids. I didn’t go one time and kept putting it off and Ray told me it was okay if I didn’t want to see him anymore. I could call him if I ever needed him, that sort of thing. I haven’t spoken to him in nine years. But that’s not asking something of me, is it.”

“Can we consider inviting him to the wedding?”

“Been engaged eight hours and already planning?” you asked. 

“I don’t know him but he had a part in raising you. Just consider it is all I ask. And wedding? Those things take fucking forever to plan, trust me.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, spinning him around in the water. “Are they really that complicated to put together?”

“Nah. Don’t go bridezilla on me is all,” he said. 

“Total diva over here,” you said, feeling the edge of the shallow end start to drop off with your foot. You spun around one more time before you had to set him down, Jensen taking the chance to pick you up and toss you out of of the water. “Jensen! I’m naked!”

“I know. It’s awesome,” he said, swimming out and kissing your cheek. “Wanna race?”

“Winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser when we head upstairs?” you grinned.

“Oh, you’re so on.”

______

A/N: Read Part 10 here!

[shihalyfie]

Some things to know about the upcoming 02-related movie

As someone who seems to be known for being a 02 metablogger now (and 02 lover in general), and who’s been closely following Kizuna’s development and is generally fond of the movie itself, I figured I’d probably need to address the elephant in the room that is the announcement of the upcoming (unnamed, as of this writing) 02-related movie. This is also especially because I’ve personally been on the record saying that I absolutely did not want a Kizuna sequel. And, well, on top of that, to be a bit blunt about it, a lot of us, especially 02 fans, have a lot of reason to be skeptical of Toei right now given some of the things they’ve done with this series in the past, and 02-related things in particular (trust me, the wound is still extremely fresh), so it says a lot about what it took for me to get even remotely positive about this prospect.

Well, here’s the good news: while I of course still think there’s good reason to be apprehensive, and while I wouldn’t say everyone should be getting their expectations up for it to be guaranteed fantastic (which is something I would say about anything, regardless of whether it even has to do with Digimon or not), I don’t think there’s too much to be panicked about with this movie. Again, it took a lot for the staff to gain my trust in this respect, so it’s not something I say lightly. But if you’re a 02 fan and you’re extremely apprehensive, here are my reasons for feeling this way, and, hopefully, they might make you feel a little better too.

The reason this movie exists to begin with

One of the most striking things about this movie’s reveal was that they’ve literally only just started production on this movie. This was to the point that, at DigiFes, where this was revealed, even the voice actors stated outright that they knew absolutely nothing more than what the audience knew from the trailer. Katayama (Daisuke) only knew anything in the sense that they had him record those few lines for it. So even though it’s been a whole year and a half since Kizuna released to the public, it had only just been decided to make a new movie like this. All of the statements between Kizuna and now stating that there was nothing particularly in the works at the time were completely accurate. Of course, there are obvious hints that they were setting up for this possibility (many, many people noticed the suspiciously favorable position the 02 group was in during Kizuna, and the press releases were carefully worded so that having a movie about “Daisuke and his friends” would allow any statement about Kizuna being “the last adventure of Taichi and his friends” to still be technically truthful), but for all intents and purposes it seems like there had been no actual commitment to making this 02 movie until now, and that they’d at least wanted to gauge the surrounding climate and fanbase reactions for what people were looking for before they decided to go ahead with this.

The obvious reasons as to why this movie exist involve the fact that Daisuke and co. are pretty much the only “out” you can have to continue the Adventure universe without constantly defaulting to Taichi’s group yet again, because at the very least it’d be something that you can’t deny hasn’t exactly had the best representation in recent years. Of course they’re trying to capitalize on this! I’m not going to pretend they aren’t! But producer Kinoshita left a very interesting comment about a particular goal they have with this movie:

This time, the core behind the movie is everyone from 02! Daisuke’s group has their own different kind of charm from Taichi’s, and we want to express that precisely because we’re in the times we’re in right now.

That comment alone has a lot to unpack. (For a frame of reference, Kizuna released in Japan in February 2020; development had already long finished by the time the pandemic first hit, and it was unfortunately one of the first victims of the initial lockdowns because of how bad the timing was.) Acknowledging directly that there’s something different about Daisuke’s group and their dynamic, which makes them especially suited for what we need in “the current times”...hmm, what could that be?

The implied answer is one that many 02 lovers will know very intimately: the 02 group’s particular specialty is in uplifting others and giving each other emotional support. While Adventure had traces of these themes, 02 was the one that went really hard on the themes of dealing with grief and loss, the existential crisis of what to do with oneself in a world placing heavy pressures on you, and how to move on from hardships with the help of others. The fact that the 02 group specializes in this more than anything else is probably one of the most distinguishing factors between them and their seniors, so there’s a very heavy implication here that they understand what distinguishes 02 from Adventure, and what it uniquely would bring to the table in this kind of movie. So this isn’t just “we’re relying on the 02 kids because they’re part of the same universe”; there’s some degree of substantial understanding of what makes 02 as a series unique, and a desire to use this to its fullest extent.

Still don’t believe me? Well, how about this...

This staff really likes 02 a lot

Seki Hiromi, the original producer of Adventure and 02, was involved as a supervisor on Kizuna’s development. Seki was personally involved in the creation of these kids and 02 itself -- she’s the one who noticed the story of the nine-year-old boy skipping grades into Columbia University, the one that formed the basis of 02 itself and eventually came back for Kizuna -- and even personally vetted Kizuna’s script to make sure everyone was in character, gave her thoughts on what the kids would be like in 2010, and was (repeatedly) commented as seeming to love the kids like her own children. As of this writing, it hasn’t been confirmed whether she’s involved on the new movie, but even if she’s not, this means that the staff on Kizuna that is returning all listened closely to those discussions about what the characters are like, straight from the mouth of one of their own creators. The new character song releases had a brief mention in Lounsbery Arthur’s interview that there were apparently extensive discussions with the staff on what the characters should be like at this time, so while Seki’s involvement with that is unknown, at the very least, a lot of conscientious thought seems to be put in at all times into maintaining these characters’ integrity.

Of course, just having an original creator alone on it doesn’t necessarily do it by itself, so here’s another interesting thing: Taguchi Tomohisa, director of both Kizuna and this movie, is also very fond of 02.

I suspect we’ll be hearing more from him as this new movie goes further into development, but Taguchi himself implied that 02 was actually the one he happened to connect with in particular, and when you really think about it, given the circumstances surrounding Kizuna, it’s not actually surprising that a movie trying to be conscientiously aware of 02′s position in the narrative would have someone with a particular fondness for it on its staff. (Reason being: a lot of Adventure fans don’t care much for 02, but you’ll almost never meet a 02 fan who doesn’t also adore Adventure.) The really fun part about this, however, is that Taguchi has repeatedly stated that 02′s first movie, Hurricane Touchdown, is his favorite Digimon movie -- in a climate where everyone else was talking about Adventure. The expected answer for the majority of Adventure fans in terms of “favorite Digimon movie” is almost always Our War Game! by knockout, but no, for Taguchi, it’s Hurricane Touchdown, and not only has he said this, he won’t shut up about it. He’s been saying this since 2019. Even Seki noticed. A whole article got made about this. He brings it up whenever he has a chance to. To top it all off, when a Kizuna event asked everyone present about their favorite characters, and everyone gave Adventure-related answers, Taguchi’s response was instead Terriermon and Daisuke. And I mean, look at Kizuna itself -- its entire plot revolves around having to move on from unhealthy nostalgia, represented by kidnapping people and turning them younger and an antagonist swallowed by their own negative emotions, which, well, is literally the plot of Hurricane Touchdown. (Yeah, that Wallace cameo is very, very likely to be sheer self-indulgence.) And considering that Taguchi said his favorite human character was Daisuke, not Wallace, it means that he understands what Hurricane Touchdown brought out of Daisuke, what his interactions with Wallace meant for both characters, and how Daisuke’s best strengths lie in his ability to support and uplift others.

And, finally, we have Yamatoya, who was responsible for penning both Kizuna’s script (and, thus, being privy to Seki’s corrections) and the bonus drama CD that came with it, on the script, and he personally said that he enjoyed writing for the 02 group because he felt they were important to lightening up the mood of the heavy story Kizuna was becoming. In fact, every comment from this staff about what the 02 group brings to the table in particular has showed a good understanding of what their appeal is -- that they have to be “fun”, that they were “healing in a heavy story”, and Taguchi himself said that he got the impression that the 02 group had more straightforward paths to their epilogue careers (which is interesting, considering that I’ve also personally pointed out that the 02 group seemed to have careers with significantly lower bars than their seniors’ due to their difference in priorities). All of these things are observations you make when you know this group and the importance of the story they came from.

Extend it even further to the rest of the staff members and you’ll find there are a lot of 02 fans on there, including the animation staff, who made some very neat observations about 02 and its finale. Miyahara Takuya is a particularly amusing case, because he seems to love Imperialdramon so much that in the thanks booklet for the deluxe edition for the Blu-ray, he drew a picture of Daisuke and Ken with Imperialdramon Dragon Mode because he didn’t get to be in the movie. (As in, he actually said, point-blank in the caption, that he loves Imperialdramon and wanted to draw him because he wasn’t in the movie.)

Of course, even if you’re trying your best, things may not always work out, so I’m not saying having love for the characters will necessarily guarantee that the product turns out for the best. However, considering that historically a lot of our fears come from the idea of them milking the name value of the characters without really caring about their integrity or understanding what the series was about (especially since a lot of people in the fanbase itself don’t tend to read 02′s nuances very well), I think, at the very least, we don’t need to worry about the staff for this movie not being conscientious, nor the idea that they’re making this movie without understanding or caring about 02.

Furthermore, one thing I appreciate is that they’re actually leading the advertisement with a premise that is distinct from Kizuna’s. Of course, it covers a similar topic of “partnerships”, and it’s very possible it’ll cover the issue of the solution to Kizuna’s problem (especially since the answer was already hinted to have a heavy relationship with 02), but nevertheless, it’s an actual premise that’s not just “Kizuna’s story, but more of it”. It’s an understanding that something 02-related should be allowed to stand on its own rather than just tacking it onto an Adventure-related thing. Beyond that, while I think it’s generally expected that a side story like this should have an original character, I think it’s actually very good this time in particular that there’s a new element/character for the 02 group to interact with; again, as with Hurricane Touchdown and Daisuke, these kids often have the best brought out of them when they’re supporting others, and honestly, because the kids suffered so much in their own narrative, I’m not particularly fond of the idea of seeing them having to go through too much more trauma themselves (it’s a big reason I don’t like the idea of a 02 reboot). So while I’m sure a lot of 02 fans feel a bit antsy that the actual group itself wasn’t advertised first, I actually consider it a positive sign that they have an understanding of what context this group performs best in, and, moreover, well...the last time they unveiled something that was so focused on advertising the return of old characters that it forgot to actually be straightforward about the premise, I don’t think that ended well. So to speak.

In general, the track record is good

It’s easy to just smile and nod at the portrayal of the 02 quartet in Kizuna, because in general everything from them is in-character, but I just want to point out how significant it is that they were portrayed so conscientiously when it is really easy to mess them up. (As I like pointing out very often: even official has not historically been very careful with Daisuke’s character.) There are so many easy pitfalls you could have fallen into and pigeonholed the kids into, but Kizuna absolutely demonstrated the quartet at their best, showing off all the nuances of their character and bringing up all the parts that were most important, especially Daisuke’s best quality being “positivity and cheerfulness” and not all of the other things about him running in circles or having a crush on Hikari-chan. This even goes down to the casting; Katayama Fukujuurou sounds terrifyingly like Kiuchi Reiko in terms of all the little nuances and pitch shifts she had in her performance, and the cast themselves spoke of all the nuances present in their characters as they were studying for their roles. These are things that even fans of the series tend to miss, but the voice actors for the quartet nailed their roles so well that it’s very easy to tell that the direction understood exactly what they were looking for and needed, and casted accordingly. Even those who didn’t care for the movie much had a very hard time disputing the voice casting for the quartet (and this is saying a lot given how much voice actor changes are often a really sore point among Japanese fans).

But while the 02 group had a limited amount of screentime in Kizuna, the staff also had a lot of opportunities to prove themselves with the drama CD and the new character song CDs, and every single aspect of these reflects something that was represented in 02 itself -- again, things that often go over the heads of people who aren’t paying as close attention. The drama CD captures a lot of the essence of the dynamics between the group in only short lines, and all of the statements about the characters in the character song interviews are accurate (and remember: Arthur said directly that there were discussions with the staff about keeping them true to character). On top of that, not only do the lyrics in said songs directly mirror each character’s development from the time of the original Best Partner series, there are also a lot of things in said songs that demonstrate a nuanced understanding of each person’s character and what they got out of the events of 02. Someone with only a surface-level understanding of Ken or Iori’s character might think that Ken should only have a soft song, or that Iori shouldn’t want to do anything ridiculous, but the series goes ahead and gives Ken one of the most passionately emotional rock songs in the batch and Iori outright rap with Armadimon, which are both fitting decisions in light of Ken actually being one of the more emotionally assertive people in this group, and Iori only being stoic because he’s strict with himself and being willing to let loose in certain circumstances (especially after the events of 02).

As of this writing, I don’t know if the new movie is going to be featuring the entire group in a major role, and I’m not sure if I even want it to; as much as I do strongly feel like the group should always work together at all times, one minor personal complaint I had about Kizuna was that it tries to do too much in too little time, and I’m personally fine with this new movie being more Daisuke-centric or something if it means it can just get a nice story on the table (after all, if I wanted something that more evenly represents the entire 02 group, I’d just go back and rewatch a very nice anime series called Digimon Adventure 02). There’s also the very thorny question of what to do about Tokumitsu Yuka, since I don’t personally really like the idea of still dragging her out of retirement like this (but I also wouldn’t want them to awkwardly write around her just for this, and I’m wondering if Sonozaki voicing Tailmon in the reboot would let people accept her as a replacement without much fighting).

Nevertheless, I think Kizuna’s staff has proven more than well enough that they understand the essence of 02 and its characters, so, again, regardless of how it turns out, I at least expect that this can be made with some degree of conscientiousness, and at this point, that’s all I can ask for. I don’t think it’s fair to expect or want this movie to be the second coming of 02, because, again, if we wanted that, I think it’d be better for us to all go back and watch that lovely little 50-episode anime called Digimon Adventure 02. But in terms of being something that can add a little nice thing to the mix, I think, so far, this movie at least has positive signs of turning out that way -- and, remember, think about what I just said about initially being very against this idea; as a diehard 02 fan who has a lot of very picky feelings about how to best represent it, it took a lot for the staff to earn my trust in this sense.

[samwisethewitch]

Curses and Hexes

Cursing is one of the most ancient forms of magic — and one of the most controversial. Whereas most magic is constructive (used to manifest or attract things), cursing is destructive (used to cause misfortune or harm).

Technically speaking, curses and hexes are similar but different types of spells. A curse consists of written or spoken words, sometimes combined with gestures. A hex is a ritual involving material items. However, most modern witches use the terms interchangeably, as I do in this post.

The fastest way to start a debate in any witchy community is to bring up the topic of cursing. It seems like everyone has strong opinions on the subject, either for or against. For your practice, all that matters is what you believe.

So, When Is It Okay to Curse Someone?

This is a tricky question, and the answer depends on the witch.

There are some witches who believe that intentionally causing harm or misfortune to another person is always wrong, and will never cast curses for this reason. This is an entirely valid position! If you fall into this camp, know that you’re in good company.

Other witches believe that cursing is acceptable when it’s truly warranted by the situation, such as when your life or livelihood is in danger. Others believe that cursing is simply a means to an end, and can be done with good intention (cursing your friend’s unfaithful partner to get them to stop cheating, for example).

The one thing that most witches seem to agree on is that curses are serious stuff, and should not be taken lightly. Unlike other types of magic, curses are fueled by negative emotions like hate, anger, and heartbreak. This makes them very powerful, but also very draining for the witch casting them. Cursing someone means reliving any trauma you suffered at their hands in order to use those memories as fuel for the fire. Some people aren’t willing to put themselves through such an ordeal, which again, is entirely fair.

Because curses are fueled by such strong emotions, they’re powerful and volatile. They’re like the nitro fuel of witchcraft — if you don’t know what you’re doing and aren’t careful, someone could get seriously hurt. That someone could be you.

My personal view on cursing is essentially the same as my view on physical violence. It’s not the answer to all, or even most, problems, and it sometimes makes the situation worse instead of better. It should never be your first option, but it might very well be your last resort. If someone is holding you at gunpoint, you’re entitled to use violence to protect yourself. Likewise, if someone is putting you or a loved-one in life-threatening danger, you’re entitled to use whatever magical means necessary for protection.

Before You Curse

If you think there’s someone in your life who deserves to be cursed, go through the following criteria to decide if cursing is really the most appropriate action.

Sleep on it. When we’re in the heat of the moment, we sometimes say or do things we don’t mean. If you think you’re angry enough with someone to curse them, give it a couple of days before you reach for the vinegar and chili peppers. Give yourself time to cool off and clear your head. If, after a week, you still feel like a curse is warranted, move on to the next step.

Think about your own motives. Why do you want to curse this person? What did they do to make you angry enough that you’re willing to use magic to harm them in some way? If it’s a minor annoyance, like cutting you off in traffic, a curse probably isn’t appropriate. Likewise, if your motivations are petty or catty in nature — like cursing someone because they beat you out for a promotion — I highly encourage you to stop and do some self-reflection. For one thing, you may not be able to conjure enough genuine hatred and anger for an effective curse. For another, in these situations you may find it more helpful to do some work on yourself (working on anger issues, learning to gracefully accept failure, etc.) rather than lashing out at someone else.

Ask yourself if this situation matters in the long run. It may feel incredibly important now, but try to take a step back and look at the big picture. Will this person matter in a year? Five years? Ten? Are they important enough to warrant allowing yourself to channel enough negative energy for a curse? (If this person is putting your life, livelihood, or safety at risk, the answer to all of these questions is YES!)

Make sure your anger is directed at the right person. Who is really responsible for the pain you’re feeling? For example, if your significant other cheats on you, your first reaction may be to curse the person who “stole” them from you. But you aren’t really upset with this person — you’re hurt because your partner betrayed your trust. I’m not convinced that a cheating partner is a serious enough reason to cast a curse (again, will it really matter in ten years?) but if you decide to do so, at least make sure it’s directed at the person who is truly responsible for your pain.

Consider doing a banishing instead. In situations where a person is a danger to you or your loved ones, sometimes the best option is to give them a magical push out of your life. A banishing does what the name implies — it banishes a person or thing from your life. Unlike a curse, a banishing does not cause harm or misfortune to the person being targeted. It simply removes them from your life.

You can perform a simple yet effective banishing with a piece of paper, a pen, cayenne pepper, and dried lavender. Write the name of the person or thing you want to banish on the paper. Look down at the name and say, out loud, “[Name], you are no longer welcome in my life.” Sprinkle a bit of cayenne on the paper and instruct it to burn this person out of your life. Sprinkle a bit of lavender on the paper and instruct it to bring you peace and healing. Fold the paper up to create a little packet around the herbs, then take it outside and burn it to ash. (Be careful — cayenne smoke burns!) As the paper burns say, “I banish [name] from my life, never to return.” Scatter the leftover ashes on a busy road.

Consider doing a binding instead. Maybe you don’t necessarily need someone out of your life, but you do need to take away their power to cause harm. In this case, a binding is your best bet. A binding is a spell that “binds up” someone’s power, preventing them from taking certain actions. This can be useful for dealing with people who are toxic or abusive. Like a banishing, binding does not cause harm or misfortune to the target.

You can perform a simple binding charm with a photograph of your target, a pen, and red or black thread. Write your target’s full name (or as much of it as you know) across the bottom of the photo. Look down at the photo. Say, out loud, “[Name], I bind you. I bind up your power, so that you can no longer ______.” Fold the paper up as small as possible. Then, begin to wrap the thread around the folded paper. As you do, say, “[Name], I bind you.” Continue wrapping until the thread completely covers the paper — there should be no paper visible.

For whatever reason, some people seem to have a natural resistance to banishing and binding. You may find that your spell works for a while, but the person you tried to banish/bind eventually returns to their old ways. There’s some debate about why this happens — some say it’s because these people are narcissists or energy vampires, while others think it has something to do with their force of will. Personally, I think it’s because some people are so nasty and hateful that it takes nasty, hateful magic to get rid of them for good. If you find yourself dealing with one of these people, and your banishings and bindings aren’t sticking, you may want to move on to a full-fledged curse.

Creating an Effective Curse

Okay, you’ve done your self-reflection, you’ve considered or attempted a banishing and/or binding, and you still feel like cursing is your best/only option. In that case, here are some general guidelines for making sure that your curse is appropriate, effective, and ethical.

Be VERY specific. Don’t just lob a ball of negative energy at someone and expect it to do what you want. Be very, very clear about your intent for this curse. Use precise and specific language. Make it painfully obvious what you want to happen and how you want it to unfold.

For example, when writing a petition or incantation, don’t just say, “[Name] is cursed.” Instead use something like, “Should [Name] ever contact or harass me again, he/she/they is cursed. Let him/her/them feel what I have felt and suffer as I have suffered.” You could get even more specific and detailed if you wanted to, but the important thing is to establish some basic parameters for the powerful dark energy you’re unleashing.

Make sure the punishment fits the crime. A curse to cause sexual impotence probably isn’t appropriate for an abusive boss… unless that boss is sexually harassing their employees. In that case, sticking a few pins in a rotting cucumber may be just what the situation calls for. (Yes, that’s a real curse. Yes, the cucumber represents what you think it represents.)

Making sure the punishment fits the crime also means being honest about how serious of a curse is deserved. Do you really need to ruin this person’s life to get them out of your hair, or will a mild inconvenience do? As strange as the idea of a curse being fair sounds, avoiding overkill will not only maintain balance but will keep you from expending more energy than you have to.

Make sure your curse is only affecting your target and not anyone around them. When it comes to curses, family, friends, and coworkers can sometimes get caught in the crossfire. To avoid this, make sure your spell is targeted to a specific person by personalizing it as much as possible. Include photos of your target, their full legal name (or as much of their full name as you know), and a taglock if you can get it. You may even want to include a line in your petition or incantation specifying that this curse will only affect the desired target and not their friends and associates.

Set clear conditions/parameters. The most effective curses are situational. Think of it as laying an energetic trap in or around a certain situation — this is more efficient and uses up less of your energy than if you were to just cast a blanket curse that affects every area of the target’s life. Curse parameters take the form of, “If [name] does x, they will be met with y.”

Setting parameters also makes sure your curse is truly deserved. For example, maybe your friend has an abusive ex-spouse, and you want to use a curse to keep your friend safe. If the ex-spouse is already leaving your friend alone, there’s no reason for a curse. But if they aren’t leaving your friend alone, they deserve to be met with vicious, magical resistance. For this situation, you may want to use an incantation like, “Should [ex-spouse] ever approach or contact [your friend], they are cursed with discomfort, unrest, and legal trouble. Let them be hunted and put down like a rabid dog.” This ensures that if, at any point in the future, the ex-spouse starts harassing your friend again, the curse will immediately go into action.

Don’t attach yourself to the curse. Perhaps the most important part of cursing is making sure you keep the energy of the curse separate from your own energy. Revenge is a double-edged sword, so you need to take precautions to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.

Any time you cast a curse, you want to limit its connection to you as much as possible. Don’t include any of your own personal effects in the spell. You may also want to avoid using tools that hold a special place in your practice. For example, you may not want to use your altar as a place to craft curses. You may want to use materials that can be disposed of easily. Make sure to dispose of curse remains somewhere outside your home, such as at a busy road.

After casting a curse, it’s important to set aside some time for self-care. Start with a thorough cleansing. This can be as simple as taking a bath in salt water (or dumping a bucket of salt water over your head in the shower, if you don’t have a tub), but if you would rather do a full-fledged cleansing ritual, even better! It’s important to do something to remove any lingering negativity from your energy field, and to make sure the curse doesn’t attach to you in any way.

Cursing is intense, emotional, draining work. After casting a curse, take at least a few hours to rest and be kind to yourself. Eat your favorite foods. Take a nap. Read a book or watch a movie. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel good.

You may want to do some inner work after cursing to help process the intense emotions involved in this kind of magic. This can be journaling, meditation, energy work, or some other healing modality. If you’ve experienced serious trauma, you may want to consider speaking to a therapist or counselor in addition to doing work on your own.

Resources:

Utterly Wicked by Dorothy Morrison

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

New World Witchery podcast, “Episode 102 — Evil”

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

Epilogue (The Kumandra Memorial Hospital)

As annoying as it sounds I had this sitting on computer for a long time; I was just struggling to like it. SOO two days ago I rewrote the ending; so roughly 4,000 words out of 7,000... ANYWAY’S  happy with it now.

Summary: Namaari and Raya being soft for each-other! Basically all fluff! 

Warning’s: Mention of liquor, mild swearing, and implied sexual intercourse.

Here’s a preview, the rest of the story is on A03

The First Date

     Raya had been discharged from the hospital for over a week, but she was still on bed rest, meaning she couldn't leave her house. Being surrounded by the same four walls was driving her insane. Even so, she was still thankful for her friends, family, and especially Namaari. They always came around and kept her company. 

So what was Namaari to Raya?

Hell, as if Raya knew! 

     Namaari usually came around when others were present, so they hadn't gotten the opportunity to grow to know each other romantically any further. Yet, Namaari always found time to come and visit Raya, knowing they wouldn't be alone. 

Maari, even bothering to show up, always meant the world to Raya as she genuinely felt wanted in her life.

     Raya was looking in the bathroom mirror as she was towel drying her hair. Simultaneously, Sisu was changing her dampened wound bandages. Anticipating this, Raya had placed saran wrap over bandages to prevent this, but some water did manage to seep in. Thankfully Sisu remembers the basics of wound care and helps her change them.

     Once Raya's hair isn't dripping, she brushes her hair as Sisu finishes. "Your bruise has gotten better," Sisu muttered under her breath, causing Raya to chuckle.

     "Ohh, that's nothing!" Raya answers as she looks down at her chest in the mirror. She notices her bruise is fading and green now, only crawling partially on her left boob, mostly on her ribcage. "The bruise was spread across my whole rib cage and boob before in a grape purple." 

     Sisu nodded as she turned away and tossed Raya a huge oversized shirt. "I'll be outside the door," She said while making a peace sign exiting the bathroom.

     Raya sighed as she slowly put on the shirt, trying not to injure herself further. Usually, Sisu or her Ba help her, but she's trying to do things independently; or at least try. She eventually managed to get the shirt on but was slightly winded by the effort needed to do the task.

     Once she was all dressed in her oversized tan shirt with cheeky black underwear, she opened the bathroom door and found Namaari outside the door smiling at her. "NAMAARI!" Raya squealed as she lightly threw her arms over Maari's shoulders, pulling her into a hug. 

     "Raya," Namaari hummed as she wrapped one arm around Raya's waist as the other made its way up to her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "I need you to trust me, okay!" Namaari whispered as she pressed a quick kiss on Raya's right cheek, pulling away.

     The warmth of Maari's lips kissing Raya's cheek still lingered as she nodded a quick yes. The next thing Raya knew, Namaari had pulled away and placed one hand over her eyes, as the other hand remained wrapped around her waist, leading her through the house.

     "I know you're tired of being stuck at home," Namaari voice varies in high and low pinches, revealing her underlying nervousness. "I hope this helps," She admits as she guides Raya out to the backyard before removing her hand from her face. "SUPRISE"

     When Raya opens her eyes, she first notices a white fabric hut in the middle of her backyard. The inside is full of comfy pillows and blankets. Her eyes then shift to the right, where she finds an array of foods and desserts on a picnic blanket; in the center sits a bottle of champagne and its glasses. She smiles as she shifts her gaze back to the left and notices a tiny projector pointing to her house.

     The gasp that leaves Raya's mouth is full of amusement and pure joy. She couldn't believe Namaari pulled this all off in less than 30 minutes because that's how long she took showering and changing. "It's beautiful, Maari... words cannot describe what I'm feeling." Her stomach had erupted in butterflies while her core tingled ever so slightly.

     Namaari only chuckles in amusement as she leads Raya to the assortment of foods she's provided. Once Raya comfortably sat down, she plops down (not so gracefully) next to her; she just wanted to be near her. 

     Maari understands how typical dates work: You sit across your date to get to know them better. But Namaari had learned so much about Raya these last four weeks. 

That's all Namaari could really do; listen. 

Technically Namaari was just another of Raya's friends. She couldn't comfortably kiss her or even touch her platonically, surrounded by others, out of respect, as they weren't official. 

A friend who also happens to know the taste of the back of Raya's throat? 

Anyways! Namaari knows Raya. 

Raya loves the outdoor's more than anything, and her preferred way of exercising is hiking. 

Raya has a prominent inner child.

Raya lives her day-to-day life in the spur of the moment but is very detail-oriented while working.

Raya's favorite color is turquoise because it's a mixture of both blue and green.

Raya is a night owl but will not work nightshifts.

Namaari knows Raya!

     Raya smiled from ear to ear as Namaari popped the champagne bottle. "Woahhh, look at the bubble," She spoke in awe as she noticed the way Namaari bicep tightened as she popped off the cork. 

The truth is Raya had quickly become obsessed with Namaari. She found herself missing her voice, the warm feeling in her abdomen when she was near, and her scoff. 

Anytime Namaari scoffed, Raya felt as she died and returned to earth. She cannot come to explain the mixture of feelings that small action has on her entire being. 

Raya is also very aware of Namaari's physical beauty; sometimes, she questions if Leonardo da Vinci sculpted her out of clay because there is genuinely nothing not to love! Raya loves Maari's rounded and wide nose, her pump upper lip missing its cupid bow, her squinted and curved eyes, her clean and maintained brows. But most of all, Raya loves Namaari's glistening, beautiful brown skin. 

But of course, Raya also learned to appreciate Namaari as a whole. She liked to believe that she knew Namaari. 

Her favorite color is gold.

She's an early bird!

Her favorite pass time is running marathons or volunteering with children. She is also very hard-headed and focused when working; sometimes, that seeps into her every day. 

Maari also claims to be emotionally unattached, but Raya can see past that: She sees how much she wants to be understood and loved for all her flaws. And Raya hopes to be that for her.

     Namaari poured the champagne into both their glasses, handing one to Raya once she finished. She then raised her glass to make a toast, Raya quickly mimicking her movements. "I want to toast to the beautiful stars and the moon shining above us." She raises the glass higher "And even as bright as they are, somehow you shine brighter than them, in your beauty." Namaari watches as Raya's face is engulfed in a red tint as she lightly shoves her shoulder with her own.

     "I want to make a toast to Tong!" Raya spoke with a grin, only watching Namaari raise an eyebrow in confusion, "Because of him...I stumbled into the arms of this gorgeous specimen sitting beside me." She said, replacing her grin with a smile. "Cheers"

     "Cheers."

     They clinched their glasses before bringing the alcohol to their lips, both of them looking at each other with such fire and passion. 

     At that moment, a new feeling settled in their hearts, which they wouldn't express that night because love is scary. 

...

     For the rest of the night, they engaged in heartfelt conversations, passion-filled conversations, plenty of stolen or perfectly choreographed glances, the perfect amount of physical contact, and plenty of kisses—all amongst eating smores, shrimp Chao, a wide variety of fruits, and rice dumplings.

     Once they finished conversating around 2 am they settled in the tent, watching the projected movie Luca on the side of Raya's house. 

     Namaari was the big spoon, and Raya was the small spoon. 

     They didn't actually watch the movie as they were too busy kissing each other's faces. Overall, they enjoyed having alone time as it allowed them to explore their romantic feelings for one another. 

     As the movie came to an end, Raya started to doze off. Namaari only watched her as she struggled to keep her eyes open, a smile resting on her lips. Never did that smile leave her face the entire night. Maari only scoffed as she bent her head down to press a kiss onto the tip of Raya's nose. "Are you awake, Dep La?" She asked in a whisper as the other only nodded while nuzzling deeper into her chest. "Can you look at me?" 

     Raya yawned into Namaari's chest as she pulled her face away just enough to lock her eyes onto Maari's. "Is this when you tell me our relationship is platonic?" She questions with the tiniest smirk on her lips. Namari only smirked back at her, causing her heart to began to flutter.

     "Actually, about that...will you be my girlfriend? Like officially?" Namaari questioned as she ran on hand through her hair. All the while watching as Raya's eyes widen as a cheerful gasp slipped from her lips.

     "AHHHH, I GOT THE HOT ER NURSE TO ASK ME OUT," Raya yelps as she lifts her free hand, pumping the air. "That's a yes." She finally clarifies as they both burst out laughing. 

---

Apparently I’m a hopeless romantic for these two. Good to know XD.

[quirklessidiot]

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note: 

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

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You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.” 

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life) 

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.” 

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all. 

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died  - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t  realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” 

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual  and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again. 

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part. 

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him.  It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.” 

He doesn’t reply,  instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.” 

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now. 

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.” 

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away? 

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

taglist [closed]

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@misosamu  @Etherynaw  @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty  [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

[mintyfrosty]

A Prince’s Guide To Reading

"Right?"

Ah, his name.

At least the one he preferred people to use for him.

The guard of the Toppat prince turned his gaze up from the door he had his eyes pinned on, studying the engravings of the wood to try and pass the time. He had to admit, being the prince's guard could be dull, since said prince seemed to take much gratitude in working within a quiet environment. Right didn't mind, of course. Then again, the commoner didn't exactly have a choice either way with what he thought or not. As if he had a choice. He didn't; that was the truth. It had been like that for the month he had found himself being the prince's care. Er, at least he thought it had been a month? Time was a bit weird in the castle. Every day seemed the same.

That wasn't to say he found it unpleasant, however.

Their eyes connected, the guard's gaze quickly descending straight after, since it was discourteous for a royal and a commoner to share a glimpse of their eyes. Well, he wasn't sure on that, but Prince Reginald had acquainted him of such. And he trusted him; a terrifying amount. And Right didn't want to get a stern talking from the king about this, that and something else. Despite clearing his throat before he spoke, Right's voice came up as hoarse and uneven like it always did. "Yes, yer 'ighness?"

Allowing his hand to rest, the royal put the quill in his hand down to table, slightly rubbing it as the chains of writing broke free. Putting his hand through so much work was unhealthy to his muscles and bones. However, much like the commoner, the prince didn't have a choice. Not since 20 years ago when the Toppat Kingdom fell under Terrence's rule. Not the time to think about, he scolded himself, bringing both of his hands down to his lap. He could at least say, however, it was flattering on how the guard put so much effort into trying to learn the mannerism that seemed impossible to understand.

"I wanted to ask you..." Started the prince, bringing himself to standing and tucking his chair into the table that sat peacefully in the halls of the library. "Do you-- know how to read and write?"

...

That came off as slightly insulting. But, unfortunately, forgivable to ask.

Crimson rose to the peasant's ears, gaze crunching as he examined the tile grooving on the floor, trying to, pathetically, hide his embarrassment. The prince was entitled to ask such a question; he was the prince for God's sake. It wasn't uncommon for a commoner such as himself to be illiterate. Many didn't have the money to claim the opportunity to educate themselves. It wouldn't be embarrassing if he said 'no', would it? Because, well, he just didn't.

He was a peasant.

A filthy one at that.

"Nah-- I mean-- No. No, I don't." Forced words of respect came out of the guard, slightly gritting his teeth with frustration as he let his accent slip his words into slang. Ugh. He hated trying to keep up with these stupid mannerisms. It was all so confusing. How the hell was he supposed to remember how to use three forks at a dinner table, wait to speak until spoken to AND not let himself slip into his comfortable language of slang? And that wasn't even the full list. "Er-- w'y do ya ask?"

"Well..." Without finishing the answer, the prince's feet waltzed over to one of the hundred books that decorated the library walls. Gloved hands met the cover a soft covered book; a light read. From where he was standing, Reginald waved an inviting hand towards the guard, taking a seat on the couch that was adjacent to the fireplace which crackled calmly. Swallowing the anxiety lodged in his throat, Right's brash footsteps pounded towards the prince, boots sounded like a wrecking ball hitting concrete. Maybe that was due to his mass. He didn't have a mind to care. With the guard now near him, the royal patted the seat lightly next to him, a smile meeting his face. "...if you can't, I'd like to teach you how to read!"

...

Wh-What?

The crimson turned a shade of magenta, spreading like a virus across his cheek and nose. Teach him? Teach him how to read? But why? Didn't the prince already have his hands full? His gaze fell over to the task assigned to Reginald, surprised to see a perfectly piled stack of scrolls. Was he finished? Wow, that was fast then. Incredibly fast. Eventually, however, the guard let his gaze fall back to the prince, eyes focused on the book in his hands rather than the blue sapphires that dotted his pupils. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, pulling on his collar to let more airflow through his clothing.

In all fairness, he didn't believe he deserved such a privilege.

Being literate was seen as such an honour; only the noblemen and royalty got the joy of being able to read and write. And that same offer to him? Definitely out of the question. He, well, he didn't believe he was worthy of such a gift. However, he most certainly didn't want to make the prince upset over the matter; maybe he could blame it on something. Something like: "Er-- I...Would we 'ave the time? With supper happening soon?"

"Oh, nonsense! We've got a few hours! Two! That's enough, I'm sure of it! You're a quick learner, you know!" It only occurred to Reginald that there was a big difference between the prince wanting to teach him how to read and Right actually wanting to learn how to perform such an act. A quick sound of hesitation came from the prince, excitement in his tone dying as his shoulders fell to his sides. "Of course...only if you'd allow me."

Oh, God. He couldn't refuse now.

Because yes, despite reading being hard to master, Right couldn't be more excited about the offer, yet nothing on his face implied so. Lost on the prince's words, the guard nodded with certainty, holding his hands up and shaking them slightly. "Na- No-- I'd be t' rilled ta learn, ya majesty--"

Dammit, he was committed to it now. No going back. Just be on high alert.

Although the guard took a hesitant seat on his side, the prince couldn't be more excited, a large grin dotted his face gently. Reginald opened the book to the first page, their shoulders touching as he held the left side of the cover, gesturing for Right to take the opposing side. Trapped by anxiety, the guard's breath wouldn't come out of his throat, numbly grabbed ahold with his right hand to open the book. Foreign symbols came into his vision when it was a simple text of English. Jesus, how was going to learn this? He didn't understand any of it. He couldn't learn how to read-- this was dumb-- this was stupid. "Alright...let's start at the beginning..."

Gently, the prince's voice hit his ears, voice brimming with excitement.

...Sigh.

Guess he didn't have a choice.

But, at least, this was better than staring at the door engravement all damn day, waiting for something that would never happen.

The story Reginald had picked out was something about a girl from a village. An oddball herself; she knew how to read. How ironic. Then one day her father got kidnapped at an old castle that belonged to a cursed prince that had turned into a beast. And to save her father's life, traded herself to be the beast's prisoner. But, interestingly, the two fell in love and the curse on the prince was broken.

Huh.

What an odd tale. Granted, probably one of the first that Right had ever heard of but...still so odd.

The prince went slow with the words from the text, running his finger under words and pronouncing them slowly, teaching him what letters made what sounds. Vowels were undoubtedly the hardest; some words could have two of the same vowel yet make different sounds. Of course, he'd been speaking the language his whole life but...now it was different. He could physically see how goddamn confusing the English language was. By the time they got to Chapter 3, an hour had passed, the prince looking up to the guard brightly. "Alright, your turn!"

Right blinked.

...

"...you know...your turn to read!"

...

H-Huh? "Eh?" He couldn't. "I can't--"

"Of course, you can!" Cheered Reginald, the prince moving his gloved hand to underneath the first word, written beautifully in ink. Calligraphy made it hard to discern which letter was which. Gaining his breath back from swallowing the anxiety lodged in his throat, the guard gritting his teeth, a crimson colour rising to his ears slightly out of embarrassment.

"Er-- I still don't get a lot of it--"

"That's okay! I'll help you along the way! It'll be fine, just watch!" No matter how much he tried to stop himself, he couldn't help that redness from his ears spreading to his face in a blush. Dammit. The prince's excitement was contagious; spreading and capturing his heart like some sort of plague. It made him want to try and complete this mission he was destined to fail at. He'd been learning to read for no less than an hour, and now he was going to read on his own? Seemed impossible. But that darn smile was enough to make him want to. Want to try. Want to learn.

Okay. He could try.

Hopefully.

"Er-- alright--"

It was slow.  Painfully slow.

The commoner needed more help from the prince than he could read words on his own. Nevertheless, successful. Very slow, but steady, gently drifting his voice across the paper to bring meaning to the written dialogue. Even if he made mistakes and made a fool of himself, he was still having fun. The prince was encouraging, giving him compliments and words of pride at when he could read a full sentence on his own. It was...touching, dramatically so. Crimson on his face turned to a soft, pastel magenta, taking comfort in the royal's presence instead of being on edge. Yes, it was technically not allowed for the two to be so close, despite having their shoulders touching, but the commoner didn't care.

The king and noblemen of the kingdom were still ignorant of the idea that Right had met the prince before the assassin outbreak. Heh; funny that the commoner was just coming for a visit but ended up being roped to be his guard. All because he saved the royal's life in an alleyway.

How curious...

However, it led to one problem; his guard was down. He got too complacent.

Find their shoulders sitting side by side was getting a little too uncomfortable, the commoner raised his, moving closer, then wrapping it around the prince's shoulders. There. Nice and comfy. If the feeling of the royal's muscles tense up hadn't occurred, he would've stayed there and continued. But, of course, life wasn't kind to anyone. Dread settled in his heart, abruptly stopping mid-sentence and pushing himself away and standing. Why did he do that? WHY did he do that!? WHYDIDHEDOTHAT?!

"I-I'm so sorry-- I don't know wot came o'er me!" Stamped the commoner, raising his hands and shaking them as if it were some kind of defence. God-- the king would have his head for this. What was he thinking!? Just, ya know, causally wrap your filthy, peasant arm around the shoulders of the prince of the Toppat Kingdom! No stress! Not one ounce of it! Dammit- Dammit- DAMMIT--

"I-t won't 'appen again-- I was just-- I-- I just--"

"Woah-- Woah! Hey, it's okay, Right!" Exclaimed the prince, quickly rising out of his seat and taking a firm grasp of his hand. Right, still scrambling to find something to say, looked down at their hands, caramel eyes finally connecting with the azure blue pupils that belonged to the prince's eyes. They were holding hands--

This was wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

A commoner shouldn't have been that close to a prince; let alone even within one meter of him. But to wrap his ARMS around his shoulder!? What was he thinking!? What was he doing?!

Shakily, he exhaled, not making any movement to return the grasp to his hand.

"Jesus-- I'm sorry I-- I just--" Stuck on his sentence, the guard brought his free hand to his face to try and conceal the growing magenta colour that lingered there.

"Just-- this 'ole thin' 'f not knowin' ya. And 'avin' to act like I ain't got a clue who you are or 'o you are aside from all the duties ya got stacked up--- it's kind of-- it's so frustratin'. 'Cause, yer know, ya funny and ya kind-- and ya got this presence about ya. And 've gotta act all manners and other bullshit-- I can't even just sit by ya witho't worryin' that 'm gonna get my head chopped off or you worryin' about 'dis stupid code-- JUST--" The commoner let out a grunt, bringing the hand on his face to his hair, tugging it slightly.

"It-It's just-- I wanna han' out wit' ya-- but-- we just can't. And it drives me bonkers."

A deadly silence filled the room as the commoner let weeks worth of venting material, catching the prince by an immense surprise. Of course, a faint colour of rose pink painted over his cheeks at the brief compliments, but nothing could stop or control the sudden frown forming on his face. In a way, the prince was dreading this. The lack of personal freedom for the guard was probably doing his head in, and the fact that he and the commoner knew each other beforehand probably made the situation much much worse for him. Even if Reginald had nothing to do with it (even though he had everything to do with it), he couldn't help but feel pity. He hadn't had freedom his whole life and, whilst he'd grown used to it, it was terrible in the beginning. Difficult, in other words.

Sympathetically, Reginald raised his free hand toward Right's that clutched against his hair, pulling it down from his face.

"Right...I'm okay-- I should be sorry I'm--" The prince let out a muffled sigh. "Y-Yes...I understand. This whole matter is aggravating. And I do want to spend time with you too! Believe me, I do. Heh, kind of why I asked to teach you to read. It's just-- I'm sorry I...I'm not used to this whole...' being close to someone' thing if you get what I mean? I've never met a commoner before you. And even then, there's all these rules and orders. And yet, you seem so nice and friendly compared to what I've been told what commoners are like. What I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry for my reaction with your arm-- I'm just-- following what I've been told to do."

...

An apology?

Jesus--

Reginald had to be the pure heartiest prince he had ever met if HE was apologising for a reaction that Right caused. In a way, it made his blood completely fire, bringing a low scowl to his face. It made the whole situation worse when you considered how the prince was treated by the king. Like garbage, that's what. And even then, Reginald put himself second to Right, considering his comfort to be more important than his own. Dammit-- that colour was rising back to his face, stifling a cough that rose to his throat.

The guard let out some sort of chuckle. "Heh-- we're both tryna follow rules 'ere-- Ehehe--"

Right didn't laugh a lot, but when Reginald heard it, it filled his heart up. A small smile itself met his lips, sharing his laughter. And only for an impossibly short amount of time, the prince's eyes shot purple, but far too quick for anyone to take note of it. They were both kind of messes; wanting to talk and laugh and NOT do something royalty related. The prince held up a hand. "Okay-- Okay. How about this. If I finish tomorrow and we have enough spare time, do you...want to spend that time finishing this book with me? To 'hang out', as you called it. We'll go out to the gardens; where no one can find us."

...

A smile met the guard's lips, putting a hand to his chest and bowing slightly.

"It would be ma greatest 'onour, my prince." ~~~XxX~~~ MEDIEVAL AU FLUFF BOYSSS!!

Thank you so much for reading this fanfic!!

For those wondering, this takes place in the transitional period between Right’s arrival and Galeforce’s arrival x3 

Also, yes I know that Beauty and The Beast didn’t exist yet but shh its cute

Oki have doodle!

[moon-jigsaw]

Just a little Nace drabble I wrote this afternoon to keep us all occupied until they eventually get together. :)

“You seem attached” Ace hummed.

Those words had echoed in her head for weeks, no matter if she was in his company or not, after he had uttered to them to her as they were sat in the kitchen. She couldn’t shake the conversation they had shared, the words constantly repeating themselves.

She had replayed the situation a million times in her head, reanalysing the way he had phrased the statement to try and uncover if he had secretly implying something else. It happened most frequently when he simply just glanced at her from across the room, the words would echo in her head and a smile would appear on her lips as she transported herself back to that day. She would often space out for a few seconds as she reimagined the scene, partially hypnotised Ace’s soft corn blue eyes that perfectly complimented the dark navy of his lucky pullover.

That pullover. God, she wished she had never mentioned it that day when she and Ace had spoken, it reminded her of Amanda, someone she didn’t like to be reminded about, but she was not entirely sure why, something just felt off when she imagined the pair of them together, it left a slight bitter taste in her mouth.

She couldn’t help but wonder why the thought of Amanda, particularly Ace and Amanda perturbed her so much. He was happy in his relationship, well at least she thought he was; besides they were friends, at points she would even go as far as best friends, they had particularly close as of recently and had an almost ungodly level of trust between them.

Ace never forced her to share anything with him unless she was completely ready to, and even when she was, he never probed any further, something Nancy appreciated very much. Although Ace was a man of few words, he was a man of intention and compassion.  Whatever he said, he meant it, truly, so Nancy always made a point of listening intently whenever he spoke. Whenever she needed him, he was there at whatever time of the day, normally just a simple text message away, no matter if it was just game night with the crew, an illegal break in, trying to break a deadly curse or trying to solve a murder mystery.

Although she never meant to stare at him, she slowly found herself drawn to him, intermittently glancing at him, those brief glances quickly turned into longer looks, and those longer looks quickly turned into lingering stares. She couldn’t help herself, she was just completely enamoured with whatever he was doing, even if it was some meaningless task, like sorting out the cutlery fresh from the dishwasher. Nancy found herself almost enchanted by the deftness in his fingers as he speedily placed the utensils in their correct trays. But, her favourite thing to watch him do was fix his soft dirty blonde hair with his rugged yet gentle fingers, not that she knew what they felt like, as they had only ever lightly brushed hands, but secretly she had begun to imagine what his hand would feel like in hers.

But then again, she couldn’t let that fantasy run wild in her mind, Ace was with Amanda, and she was technically with Gil, if she had to put a label on it. In truth Gil was only a surface level lustful attraction, she had never really anticipated forming a real relationship with him, he was more of a distraction to her than anything, a way to help her unwind after a stressful day. He’d never really ask questions and neither would she, it was nothing more than simple sexual gratification. When they were alone together she tried to let her mind become blank and just enjoy their time together, but sometimes, well almost every time they hooked up her mind drifted back to Ace and those same words again and again and now the added awkward moment when she had let some of her supressed feelings slip out when she was under the lust spell of the dress; admitting that she had always wanted to touch his hair and that he was smart, but he already knew the latter to be correct.

In that moment, she realised and unwillingly audibly said “Oh boy, I’m in love with Ace”.

“Eeeeeee, finally” Bess squealed.

“Finally! Took you long enough to realise Drew” George grumbled, with a small smirk on her lips.

“You guys knew?” Nancy questioned the pair that stood next to her, motioning her arms as she did so.

“It’s pretty obvious, you two have got goo-goo eyes for each other” George spoke, her eyebrows raising slightly.

Nancy looked confused at her statement, first of all George wasn’t the type of person to use the phrasing goo-goo eyes in a sentence and secondly the fact Ace’s feelings were mutual.

“Ace likes me too?” she questioned, visibly confused.

“Obviously” giggled Bess, as she fixed her raven hair. “Go tell him how you feel” she laughed, as pushed Nancy through the swing door that led to the kitchen.

“Bess, what are …” Nancy mumbled.

“Hey, Ace” Bess called out.

Moments after the words had left her lips, Ace had already turned his head to face her.

“Nancy wants to talk to you” she shouted quickly, through the serving hatch as Nancy somewhat tumbled through the swing door into the kitchen. Her eyes quickly met his and she tried to steady herself from the rather forceful push Bess had given her.

“Hey, Nancy, what did you want to talk about?” he asked her, his voice soft and warm making her immediately relax.

“Umm, I, Errrr, just wanted to say that, that I……”

[scabopolis]

the gift of gab, the gift of you

Here it is @thisonesatellite! your 2020 CS Secret Santa gift. It was a complete and total delight to get to be your gift giver this year. That is not hyperbole - you are a gosh dang delight! Each of your message responses left me in stitches and while I will NEVER try and convince you a movie you think is bunk is good, I am delighted at the opportunity to recommend rom coms that don’t make you want to gouge your eyes out. 

This fic is heavily inspired by your love of coffee shops AUs (except...you know, a pub), your travel stories (which I shamelessly incorporated into the fic) and I believe rates about a 4 on the reindeer scale of Christmas cheer.  You’re a total eagle eye, so I just need to say I am well aware that Colin O’Donoghue’s accent in no way resembles an accent from Cork, but I just need that to be ignored, please and thank you.

Also, I’ve decided we’re fandom friends now. Okay? Okay! Finally, thank you to @cssecretsanta2020 for organizing this exchange and being the actual best and most patient fandom soul. 

*** Title: the gift of gab, the gift of you

Summary: Emma needs an Irish man. Wait! No! It’s not what it sounds like. And then the universe just has to go and provide her with the world’s chattiest, flirtiest, blue-eyesiest Irish man in existence. 

Available on AO3. ***

Emma is in no position to complain. From where she sits both literally – (perched upon a comfy barstool in the world’s coziest pub) – as well as existentially – (traveling abroad for the first time in her life) — she is fortunate and blessed. 

It’s just – 

It’s just it would be easier to enjoy it all if she didn’t have to deal with a rather annoying request from her rather annoyingly persistent mother. 

Her headphones are in but Emma still takes great care to speak in hushed tones over video chat. There’s nothing she wants less than to be the loud American who shares her private conversation with an entire establishment. The pub she found is at the end of a quiet lane off of Cork’s high street. The customers within the pub appear to be locals well known by the staff who tend the pub. In truth, she wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it wasn’t for —

“Who have you talked to today?” her mother asks. 

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I thanked the barista who made my coffee. And I ordered a pint in this pub.” 

“That’s not talking.” 

“It is by definition talking.” 

“That’s not what I meant. How else are you going to get to know the city?” Her mom interrupts before Emma can properly formulate a snarky reply. “And don’t you dare say ‘guidebooks.’ Your father and I raised you better than that.”

“Mom, please don’t make me do this.” 

“You said I could have anything I wanted as a souvenir.”  

“What about a mug? I bought Grandma Ruth one with a big fat sheep on it.” 

“Sounds lovely, sweetie, but no.” 

“Mom.” Emma realizes that as a twenty-six year old woman it is probably unbecoming to whine, but her mother is being absolutely ridiculous. Where is her dad when she needs him to rescue her? All he requested was a bottle of whiskey. What a sensible person!

“No. It’s fine. If you don’t want to get your mother the one thing she asked for on this trip that’s okay. I won’t say one word about paying for this celebration trip, or paying for graduate school, or —” 

“Shit, mom. Did you take a Guilt Trip 101 class or just Google how to?”

“Oh, this is natural talent. My present, please.” 

“Fine.” There’s a group of bearded men, the ones she pegged as locals, tucked into one corner of the pub. They’re probably her best bet, but she just arrived last night, and the combination of jet lag and travel nerves make her feel not yet up for that. Which leaves the staff working the bar. 

One of the two men she’s seen pouring pints and serving up food has gone missing. Besides, Emma wouldn’t trust herself in her sleep-deprived state to not say something utterly absurd to the blue-eyed, dark-haired, scruffy bartender. Probably a good thing he’s gone. Much safer is the other man working the bar – the one who refused to serve her Guinness but was very kind about it. While arguably attractive, he is a decidedly less intimidating sort of handsome. Unfortunately, he is in the midst of a heated discussion with one of the patrons, the two of them gesticulating to something happening with a football match on the screen. Which leaves the blonde haired woman currently polishing glasses. 

Emma lightly clears her throat. “Excuse me, ma’am?” When the woman turns to look at her, Emma smiles, and signals her over. She sets aside the pint glasses and tucks the polishing rag into her apron. Her mother, on the other end of the video call, is not satisfied. 

“Did you say ma’am?” 

“Mom,” Emma whispers.

“I said an Irish man, Emma Blanchard Nolan. Man.”

“No. You said person.” 

“The man was implied.” 

“Then you should have been more specific.” 

“Ready for another?” the woman at the bar asks. 

Emma looks down at her half-full pint. “Not quite.” She frowns. “And, uh, you’re not Irish, are you?” 

“No. Canadian.” 

“Ah. Okay.” Emma lowers her voice again and looks at her phone screen. Her mother remains unimpressed. “That’s foreign. Technically she’s a foreigner.” 

The sternness of Mary-Margaret’s expression is evident even over the video call. “Emmaline —” 

“Not my name, mother.” 

“Emmaline Blanchard Nolan, you promised me.” 

“I’ll find an Irish person tomorrow.” It’s about this time Emma realizes she’s rudely ignoring the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender. The one she asked to speak with. What’s more, the very kind and apparently Canadian bartender has been joined by the curly haired bartender. Both of whom peer at her with matching expressions of amused befuddlement. Emma removes her headphones and addresses the man. “You’re Irish, right?” 

“Well, miss,” and the gentle brogue of his accent, even with those two short words, is quite evident, “you are in Ireland.” 

“Excellent! Can you talk to my mom?” She detaches the headphones from her phone and turns the camera around to face the man and woman. “My mom wants to have a conversation with an Irish person.” 

“Irish man,” her mother corrects.

“An Irish man. Out in the wild.” The bartenders stare at her, nonplussed. “It’s her souvenir.” 

The woman presses her lips together – an obvious attempt to stifle a laugh. 

“Well, uh, aye.” The man tugs at his ear. “I guess I could —” He’s interrupted from his stuttering by the return of the blue-eyed, stubbly bartender, hauling a new keg into the back of the bar. 

“Actually,” the woman cuts in. “My husband,” she hip checks the curly-haired man, “needs to replace the keg.” 

“I do?” he asks. 

“He does?” This from tall, dark, and holy hell! also possesses an Irish accent. 

“But Killian is in the middle—”

“Shh,” the blonde woman interrupts her husband. 

“Yeah. Killian is—”

She goes on to shush the man Emma now knows to be Killian. 

“Oh no,” Mary Margaret whispers over the video call, “there’s two of them.” 

“What is happening?” Emma’s not sure which of the two men asked, this whole interaction spinning rather absurdly out of control. 

“I don’t know,” Emma says.

The woman ignores all of them. “I’m Elsa, this is Liam, and that,” she points to Killian, frozen with a hand on the keg like he’s uncertain what to do, “is my very single, very Irish brother-in-law.” And all at once it becomes clear what Elsa’s intentions are. “Killian, can you come over here and help our lovely patron and her lovely mother?” 

“Oh, Emma, Killian even sounds like an Irish name.” 

“Mom!” Originally she found her mother’s request to be silly but harmless. The more people who become involved, however, the quicker it approaches mortifying. Emma watches as Elsa whispers something to her brother-in-law, likely explaining the unconventional request. 

“I’m very friendly,” Mary-Margaret reassures anyone who might be listening. 

“You are a flirt, is what you are,” Emma scolds. “And what would dad say if he found out about this?”

“He asked for whiskey. I asked for this.” 

“Come on, lass. Don’t deprive me of a dashing rescue.” Killian leans across the bar, his hand reaching out for her phone. All that stubble and the blue-eyes and the accent are worse when directed directly at her. “Besides, your mum sounds like a woman after my own heart.” 

“If you’re sure—?”

“Absolutely.”

To her abject horror, the moment she hands Killian the phone, he walks away with it in hand. 

“As requested, milady,” he says to the screen, “one genuine Irish man.”

Her mother’s delighted giggle is embarrassing for all Americans everywhere but it seems to delight Killian. She can just makeout her mother’s question about where he grew up when he rounds the corner, out of her hearing. 

“Where is he going?” Emma asks, craning her neck. “Where is he taking my phone?” 

“If I know Killian, your mum is probably about to get the most thorough oral history of Irish pubs she could have asked for,” Liam says, tossing a towel over his shoulder. 

“Oh. Okay.” She drums her fingertips on her glass. “I’m sorry about all the trouble.” 

“Nonsense,” he waves her off. “This is the most exciting thing to happen in our pub since Seamus and Willy hosted their wedding reception here.” He jerks his chin towards the group of bearded men she noticed earlier, though which one is Seamus and which is Willy she can’t be certain. 

After another fifteen minutes, Emma has finished her pint and Killian still has possession of her phone. He crossed through the room once, merrily chatting with her mother as he regaled  her with the story of how he got the scar on his cheek. 

Elsa is filling a series of pint glasses for a group of women standing at the bar, and Emma feels the need to apologize again. “This isn’t what I expected,” she explains. 

“What’s that?” Elsa asks. 

“I was kind of thinking, best case scenario, there’d be an exchange of hellos and that would be that.” 

Elsa nods, hands the pints off to the women, and then fills one more. “Are you familiar with the legend of the Blarney stone?” 

Emma nods. She has absolutely no intention of kissing the dang thing (her research indicates local teens do all manner of ungodly things to the stone, knowing that tourists intend to kiss it), but it’s on her list to go see. 

“Well, Jones family legend —”

“I take it your husband and his brother are Jones’?” 

“And me by marriage. Jones family legend has it that Killian must have been birthed upon the stone because never has there been a man more endowed with the gift of gab.” Elsa finishes pouring the pint and sets it in front of her. 

“Oh, I didn’t order this.” Right at that moment, Liam returns to the bar and sets a turkey sandwich in front of her. “Or this,” Emma says. 

“Knowing my brother, you might be here a while,” Liam explains. 

“Gift of gab?” 

He nods, pleased that the Jones family lore has reached her. “Gift of gab.”

Liam proves to be correct, which means Emma has ample time to get to know both Elsa and Liam. The two of them are freakishly adept at juggling bartending, interacting with their customers, and keeping up a steady flow of conversation with her. The highlight is hearing the full story of Seamus and Willy (she is able to identify them by their matching navy sweaters – sweaters which Willy apparently handknits for the both of them), two men who worked on the same fishing boat for decades before realizing they were in love. 

“Once they sorted that bit out, they got married three weeks later,” Elsa says. 

“So which one of them is the designated driver?” Emma asks. 

“That whole lot lives down the street.” Liam raises his voice so the group can hear them. “And they do nothing but hassle me every day of my life!” The group all raise their pint glasses and cheer, indicating this kind of teasing is something central to the pub’s dynamic. 

Killian returns from wherever it was he was busy flirting with her mother and sets her phone on the bartop. She looks down at the display only to find it blank.

“Uh, your mum had to run to the market, but she indicated she’ll call you later.” 

“She didn’t even say goodbye? Unbelievable.” As Emma gears herself up for peak mom-annoyance, she gets a text message. “Speak of the devil.” 

4:38 PM - Mom to Emma hubba hubba

“Ah, geez, mom,” she grumbles. 

“What’d she say about me?” Killian asks. 

“What makes you think that text was about you?” 

“Because you have roses in your cheeks.” Emma frowns. She what? “You’re blushing,” Killian says. 

“No I’m not.” 

“It’s getting deeper, I’m afraid.” He takes away her empty pint glass. “Another?” 

“Yes, please.” 

He sets another pint of Murphy’s in front of her (Liam was the one to inform her that one drinks Murphy’s when one is in Cork). “Your mother is lovely.” 

“Yeah, she’s something alright.” She sips the beer and licks the foam off her lip. “What were the two of you talking about for so long?”

“Oh, just having a chat. She wanted to know about the pub and how Elsa and Liam met.” 

“The gift of gab.” 

“Ah,” he says, “Elsa told you of that, then?” 

“Like my mom didn’t tell you anything about me?” 

“It was all good, Emma.” 

She snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

“Why a conversation with an Irish man?” Emma frowns at Killian, not quite certain of what he’s asking. “For a souvenir. That’s truly all your mum wanted?” 

“Oh, that. In between flirting, did she tell you anything about her and my dad?” Killian shakes his head. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

As if waiting for his cue, Liam comes up behind Killian and slings an arm around his brother’s shoulder. “My dear little brother has time.” 

“Younger brother,” Killian corrects. 

“Shorter brother.” Liam bumps Killian towards the other side of the bar. “Why don’t you keep Emma company?” 

“I have another three hours on my shift.” 

“I think Elsa and I can handle it until Will arrives.” 

“Liam.” 

“Don’t make me fire you.” 

“You can’t fire me. We’re co-owners.” 

“Fine. Don’t make me quit.” 

Killian rolls his eyes but slides out from under Liam’s arm. He crosses to the other side of the bar and sits beside Emma. “I’ll take a pint, then.” He raps his knuckles on the bartop. “And make it quick.” 

Emma hides her smile in her pint glass. Both Liam and Elsa have been so lovely. There’s no reason to switch allegiances at this point. Regardless of how much she might be tempted by the stubbly-faced, blue-eyed flirty Irish man sitting beside her. 

“Between the two of them and my mother,” Emma says. 

“Yeah, not the most subtle lot.” Liam shoots Killian a glare as he sets the pint down to which Killian responds with the cheekiest grin Emma has ever seen. The interaction has older and baby brother written all over it. “So, your mom and Irishmen. Go.” 

“Oh, that.” Unlike her mother, and even her father, Emma holds the details of her life close to her chest. She’s made the mistake in the past of sharing too much too fast. When people leave her, either by choice or circumstance, it physically pains her to know there are people out in the world with knowledge of her worries, fears and dreams. But maybe it’s the sandwich sitting warm in her stomach, or the jet lag, or simply the buzz of international travel, because she feels inclined to share at least a few details of her life with Killian. 

“My mom and dad both took a gap year after high school and met while backpacking across Europe. They met at the Roman Colosseum, decided to match up their itineraries, and by the time they arrived in Budapest five months later they were in love and my mom was pregnant.” 

“And they’ve been together ever since?” 

“Almost 27 years.”

“That’s quite the story.” 

She nods. “They cut their year of travel short, and went to live with my Grandma Ruth, my dad’s mom. They always talked about returning to Europe, finishing their trip at some point, but by the time I was old enough to leave behind with my grandma, dad was in vet school, mom was teaching, and they were running a wildlife rescue from the family farm. They kept making new plans to travel but they just kept getting pushed back and back and back. Until, one day, they decided to put all that money towards sending me on my first trip instead. So, as much as I fight every silly request she has of me, I would do anything if it made her smile.”

“Your mum and dad never made it to Ireland?” 

“Nope.”

“Thus the strange request.” 

“Thus the strange request.” 

“Well, it gave me a reason to chat with the lovely lass at the bar, so for that I’ll be forever grateful.” 

Her Grandma Ruth, Aunt Ruby, and frankly everyone who knows her parents well, routinely comment on the resemblance between Emma and her dad. Apparently in temperament and affectation they are almost identical. But maybe she’s more like her mom than anyone knows because the conversation between her and Killian flows fast and easy. Easy enough that she barely notices when she and Killian finish their pints and Elsa slides new glasses in front of them. Emma’s head is feeling a little buzzy, and that turkey sandwich was more than a couple hours ago. Maybe she can hint at Killian that she wants to go to the Christmas market. Hint even more specifically that she wouldn’t hate if he went with her. 

No, she can’t do that. To even think such a thing would be ridiculous. 

She can’t possibly ask a practical stranger to walk up and down the stalls of the festive market with her. She can’t expect him to want to sample all the baked goods and food they can handle. Or to hold her hand while they drink spiked apple cider. That kind of thinking is romantic, and hopeful, and not at all her brand. 

“This is really your first trip out of the states?” Killian asks.

“I mean, Canada, but that’s so close to home it doesn’t count.” Emma catches herself, eyes darting to Elsa. “Don’t tell your sister.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Killian angles his body on the stool to face her more directly. Without Emma realizing it, they’ve drifted close enough together over the past hour or so that the move makes it so their knees knock together. Emma could move away, put some distance between them, but everything is foggy and hazy in that delicious way, and she can’t bring herself to move. “What does that make me, then? The ruggedly handsome foreigner you intend to seduce as a notch on your bedpost?” 

“Who said anything about seduction?”

“You’re giving me bedroom eyes.” 

“I do not make eyes of any kind. Especially bedroom eyes.” 

Elsa jumps in, setting glasses of water down for each of them. “Yeah, but Killian does. And he needs to put them away.”

Emma tries to react quickly enough to Elsa’s teasing to evade Killian’s detection, to turn away and hide her smile in her shoulder so he can’t see, but the gentle tug on the end of her braid indicates he caught her. 

“Think that’s funny, do you?” 

“You and my mom ganged up against me. I deserve to join with your family against you.” 

“Your mum is great.” He shrugs. “Well, based on the little I know.”  

“I know she can be a little intense. I hope she didn’t—”

“She was as lovely as her daughter.” Before his words can fully sink in, perhaps bringing that blush back to her cheeks, he’s moved on. “You’ll have to bring her with you when you return.” 

She rests her chin on palm, blinking up at him. Okay, maybe she sometimes makes eyes. “What makes you think I have any plans to come back?”

“Ireland gets in your blood. You’ll be back.” 

This time they’re interrupted by Liam. He swipes away the pint glasses in front of them, remaining beer and all. “That’s about all I can stomach of that.”

“What do you mean?” Killian asks. 

“You’ve been flirting with the kind tourist long enough. Time to go.” 

Oh. Emma looks down at her boots. A surge of deep embarrassment heating her cheeks and causing her stomach to churn. “Sorry,” she says quietly, her eyes turned down. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No!” The twin cries from both Liam and Killian startle her. She’s not sure which one appears more stricken by her announcement she intended to leave.   

“Apologies, Emma, I wasn’t clear,” Liam says. He extends his hand to Killian. “Apron.” It takes Killian a moment to react but when Liam stays in his place, his hand extended, Killian removes his apron and hands it to him. “See you tomorrow, little brother.” 

“Younger.”

“Dumber.” 

“Stubborner.”

“Not a word.” Liam stalks back over to Elsa who is shaking her head at the whole display. “They’re both idiots,” Liam says, and Emma is just going to pretend she didn’t hear that, thank you very much. 

“Have you been to the Christmas market yet, Emma?” Killian’s voice brings her back to the pub, and this particular bar stool, with this particular man. This particular man who has somehow intuited the secret desire of her heart to go to the town’s Christmas market with him. 

“No. No. Not yet.” 

Killian jumps down from his seat and extends a hand to Emma to help her down. “Come on, love. Let’s sail away.” 

There’s 100 ways Emma could respond to that. She could tell Killian she isn’t his love. She could jump down from the stool on her own. She could insist she’s fine going to the market by herself. But she tries to channel a little magic, that particular magic which for her mom and dad turned one day in Rome into a lifetime, and chooses differently. 

(Not that she’s saying she expects—)

She takes Killian’s offered hand and his answering grin is all the confirmation she needs she made the right decision. 

And so they go to the Christmas market, and at Killian’s insistence she tries mulled wine but quickly trades it in for a cup of boozy cider. They ride the ferris wheel, the cold stinging her cheeks from the top, the lights of Cork spread out before her, and that thrum of love for this place beats loudly in her veins. Suddenly every travel story her parents have ever told her makes sense and maybe Killian is right  – maybe Ireland is in her blood. 

They walk together side-by-side and at a point Emma can’t remember – somewhere between sampling whiskey, buying several bottles for her dad, and licking salt and malt vinegar from hot chips off her fingers – they transition to walking hand-in-hand. The heat of Killian’s skin, even through two layers of gloves, is what she blames for the fact that she actually starts humming along to Christmas carols. Where’s that deep cynicism she has been committed to for her life when she needs it? 

“Told you,” Killian says after the two of them step away from a stall with handmade ornaments. She must have been channeling her mom because she couldn’t stop herself from striking up a conversation with the vendor. Somehow by the end of the interaction she’d agreed to join him and his wife for their annual holiday pub crawl the following night. 

“Told me what?” 

“That you would fall for Ireland.” 

“You get the honor and privilege of keeping me company on my first full night on my first real trip out of the country and all you can say is ‘I told you so’?” 

“I believe what I am trying to say, love, is you appear very much at home here.” 

The sentiment makes everything in Emma buzz, but she does what she does best and works to diffuse it. “Well, uh, I don’t know. Does it ever snow here?” 

“Eh, we get about 50 mm every year?” At her look of confusion Killian smiles. “Not much.” 

“Have you ever had a white Christmas?” 

“Can’t say I have. They’re pretty rare in Ireland.” 

“In that case, I think this means you should come to Maine. We do a great white Christmas.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

“Great. Next year sound good?” 

Killian laughs and squeezes her hand. “Sounds great.”

She hears the faint echo of advice her dad once gave her. It was right when she was fresh off her heartbreak with Neal and wasn’t sure she had it in her to apply for grad school. He said something to her about moments. About the need to notice good moments even in the midst of bad ones. 

Standing here hand-in-hand with a man she met only five hours ago, the glow of Christmas lights dancing in technicolor hues against his cheeks and hair, Emma is absolutely certain this is a good moment. 

“Emma?” 

She answers Killian’s question by rising up on her toes and kissing him. It’s quick and fleeting, barely a brush of her lips against his, but the look on his face as she pulls away, all bright eyed-wonder, deserves to be classified as a good moment all on its own. 

It takes self-control Emma wasn’t aware she possessed to not drop their shopping bags to the ground, grip him by the lapels of his jacket, and kiss the crap out of him. Instead she loops her arm in his. 

“It’s getting late,” she says. “Want to walk me back to my hotel?” 

He swallows, that poleaxed expression still on his face. “Aye.” 

The next morning, Emma is woken up by the sound of her video call alert and boy it was a mistake to not extend her do not disturb until noon. She reaches out and blindly bats at the bedside table until she makes contact with her phone. As soon as she swipes up on her mom’s call, she squeezes her eyes shut again. 

“Hello?”

“Oh, sweetie. Are you still jet lagged?” 

“And a little hungover.”

“Sounds like you had a very eventful night.”

Killian grumbles from somewhere behind her. “What time is it?” he asks.

It’s right about this moment Emma realizes her error. Her mom goes quiet and Emma considers taking the opportunity to end the call. And then maybe ignore every call thereafter for the next five days. 

“Emma Nolan. Is there a man in bed with you?” 

“No,” Emma answers, though it’s perfunctory and not at all convincing. 

Killian presses closer to her, and shifts so his chin rests on her shoulder. “Hello again, Mrs. Nolan. And this must be Mr. Nolan.” 

That gets Emma’s attention and she opens her eyes enough to see her mom and dad sitting beside one another on the couch. While her mom is positively gleeful, her dad looks as though he wishes he could melt into the couch cushions and disappear. 

“There are certain things I don’t care to see,” her dad says. “Certain things I don’t care to know.” 

Emma rotates in bed and onto her back, holding the phone above her head so both she and Killian are still in view of the camera. “Oh hush, Dad, you and mom did it the first night you met.” 

“You told her that?” 

In response, her mom shrugs. “She asked.” 

“And not that it matters, but Killian and I didn’t have sex.” 

Though it didn’t stop them from trading long, slow kisses that left her dizzy and wanting more, more, and more. Killian must have felt the same because it took little to no convincing to get him to stay the night. Perhaps most remarkably, after extending the invitation, Emma had no desire to retract it or pretend it didn’t mean anything. 

“Your daughter was far too drunk to have sex.” Emma turns her head so fast in Killian’s direction she hears something crack. 

“That, for instance, is one of the things I don't want to know about,” her dad says.  

Killian cheerfully waves at the camera, ignoring both her father’s indignation and her glare. “I’m Killian, by the way. Happy to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Nolan.” 

Emma elbows Killian. The man is a total menace. “I’ll call you guys back when I’ve had coffee,” 

“I want details,” her mom says. 

“And I want no details.” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma hangs up the phone and tosses it in the direction of the foot of the bed. She flips over onto her side and Killian mirrors her, reaching out to trace the freckles on the bridge of her nose. “So that was my dad.” 

“He seems a charming fellow.” 

“Don’t let the responsible tough guy act fool you,” she says, and snuggles closer to Killian. He responds just as she hoped, by wrapping his arms tight around her. “He once spent all his money on a cross country train ride and stole oyster crackers from the dining car for food. And during a California road trip, my mom almost froze to death sleeping in her wet bathing suit on the side of the road.” 

Killian chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh making her feel even warmer. “You’re saying they can deal with a half naked man in their daughter’s hotel room?”  

“Yeah, they can deal.” After a moment’s hesitation, Emma slips her hands up and under Killian’s shirt. It’s the one he wore to work, and she can still smell the faint aromas of beer and fried food that linger. She presses her palms against his back and bunches the shirt up, up, and then over his head. 

“Emma?” 

A girl could get used to the way his voice moves over the syllables of her name. “They might have a problem with a fully naked one, though.” She kisses his bare shoulder.

Killian’s hands move under her shirt to span her waist. Goosebumps breakout across her skin. By the slight twist of his lips, Killian notices. “So you’re saying—?” 

“I’m saying you should quit gabbing and kiss me before they call again.” 

“As you wish.”

And a week later, when she is back in Maine celebrating Christmas with her family and Killian is in Ireland with his, Emma convinces herself she imagined it. She must have. She must have imagined how safe she felt in the presence of another person. Imagined the comfort she felt as he joined her for a quick road trip to Dublin. Imagined that it could feel like your heart was split in two, half residing in the chest of a person you just met. 

But the week of New Year’s Eve, when he arrives in Maine to celebrate with her, she’s startled to find it was all real. 

The morning after Killian arrives, she sits with her mom in her parents’ breakfast nook, the two of them sipping coffee as Killian and her dad make waffles. 

“Not such a dumb souvenir after all, huh?” her mom whispers.

Emma shakes her head, too happy to even react to her mom’s shameless gloating. “No. Not so dumb.” 

[likelightningafterthethunder]

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Two: Reprieve

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

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–

Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see one of his former classmates’ face on the news report with the tagline “found dead after hero-villain fight.” 

The reporter gave a rundown of the fight that had happened a few days earlier on the other side of the city, between a small gang of villains and Ochako. The villains themselves weren’t very high ranking― potential to be B-rank if they were more organized as a group, but C-rank individually― but they had managed to cause a decent amount of damage before Ochako had arrived on the scene. The news replayed the footage taken live from the battle, showing Ochako using her quirk on larger pieces of rumble to assist the lower ranked heroes in the area with evacuation as she charged forward towards the villain group herself. 

The footage wasn’t ideal. It was grainy from trying to capture the scene just outside of the limits of its scope and if it weren’t for the pink of Ochako’s hero costume, Katsuki was certain the camera person would not have been able to keep the camera centered on her. The footage continued until Ochako grabbed one of the villains, freezing seconds after the villain began to float. A red circle appeared around the villain’s face along with a mugshot before cutting back to the reporter.

In the aftermath of the fight, that one villain was never found. 

Ochako had been frantic when they had met up after, her gaze thousands of miles in the distance every time Katsuki looked. She denied anything being on her mind despite it being so blatantly obvious that something was, but Katsuki chose not to question it. After all, if she had wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t have asked to meet him.

The report continued to explain the search procedures that had taken place over the past few days before describing a call on the tip hotline that ultimately resulted in the discovery of the villain’s body. While they didn’t show a photo of the body, Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it was for the report to completely skip over the cause of death.

In the end, Katsuki supposed it didn’t matter what caused the villain’s death. Ochako was certain to end up finding a way to blame herself, for not paying better attention during the fight, for not trying hard enough to find the villain after, for being the last person who saw the villain alive. 

Even if she didn’t, there were parts of society that would make sure she would never forget.

Cheeky: can you meet up with me today?

Katsuki: Takeshi’s?

Cheeky: yeah

Cheeky: drinks/dinner on me after if you want

Katsuki: I’ll be there at five. Don’t be late.

Cheeky: got it!

Cheeky: hey wait why are YOU telling ME not to be late when I’M the one who asked YOU to meet me

Katsuki: You know why.

Cheeky: it was ONE TIME KATSUKI ONE TIME

Katsuki was at Takeshi’s gym a quarter before five, reserving their usual space and changing into workout attire before sending Ochako a text to let her know he was already inside. He started his stretches, looking up only when he saw a pair of pink sneakers approach the ring.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, continuing his stretches. 

“By five minutes!” Ochako dumped her water and towel on the bench next to Katsuki’s, quickly joining him in the stretches. “I was outside before five, waiting for you!”

“I sent you a text saying I was inside.”

“Yeah, like two minutes before five!” She huffed. “I was totally on time.”

“Whatever. Hurry the fuck up.”

They continued preparing in silence, speaking again only to confirm that the other was ready to start. This time, only a couple of the guests flinched when Katsuki charged forward at Ochako yelling out “die!”

After the fifth time a hit landed that Ochako would have normally been able to block with ease, Katsuki stood down. Her form had been lacking for the better part of the past hour, and there were a few times that her blows hadn’t hit with the full force Katsuki was familiar with. She didn’t even react to Katsuki’s change in form until Katsuki had walked over to the bench for his water.

“Wh― hey! What gives?” She frowned but joined him for a water break when he didn’t return to the ring right away.

“Don’t insult me,” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shock on her face, “You’re distracted. What kind of fucking spar is worth the time when your opponent isn’t giving their all?”

“I’m focused on the spar! I’m totally and completely here! I wasn’t insulting you but I am now, you’re just saying that because of your enormous ego,” 

Katsuki paused, looking at her directly in her eyes. She didn’t flinch.

But the longer he held his gaze, the more Katsuki could tell that she was holding back.

“First,” He began, “Don’t be cheeky with me―”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so cheeky with you if you didn’t call me cheeky all the time!”

Katsuki held back an amused smile.

“Second,” He continued, “I hit you five different times in ways that you should have been able to block with your eyes closed.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment, because what I’m hearing is that you think I could fight you with my eyes closed.”

“Insult. You didn’t fucking block the hits, dumbass.”

Ochako huffed, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on the compliment part of it.”

“Third, you didn’t even notice I walked away until after I reached the bench.”

“I― I was expecting you to come back! That it was some sort of trick to get me to lower my guard or something!”

“And fourth, you speak faster when you lie.” He let Ochako stammer for a while in response, continuing when her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “You sure this is the break you need? I don’t mind wiping the fucking floor with you if that’s what you want but you better respect my time back and fucking fight me with your all,” He shifted his weight a bit before adding hesitantly, “I can try to listen if you want to talk instead but that’s not really my thing,”

Ochako didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a drink of her water. Katsuki waited as patiently as he could, although he did offer her a glare to try to speed up her thought process. 

She put her water back down and hit her knuckles together, briefly reminding Katsuki of Eijirou. “Okay! One more round. I need to redeem myself before we leave for drinks,”

Katsuki grinned, shoving her lightly with his shoulder as he walked back towards the ring. “Whatever you say, Cheeky. You’re still going to fucking lose.”

“I’ll make you eat your words, Katsuki!”

She did not, but not for lack of trying. Ochako actually paid full attention to the spar after the interruption and while Katsuki still had the upper hand on brute strength, she was nimbler and lighter on her feet. Katsuki was fairly certain that had the shift manager not interrupted to tell them that their time was up that Ochako was only a handful of moves away from finding some “barely legal in a spar between friends but completely legal in a rules free battle against a villain” opening and winning the round. While technically neither of them had won, he did agree—after some teasing and pestering— to counting it as her point in their ongoing scoreboard, adding, “But if you want me to count it as eating my words, you’ll have to fucking try again.”

Ochako seemed to be in a brighter mood when they met up again post-changing in front of Takeshi’s. She bumped shoulders with Katsuki as he approached and began chattering about work and her day as they made their way over to the restaurant they usually ate at after sparring sessions. He didn’t offer much other than the occasional “yeah” and swear when her story necessitated it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spared him from talking until after they were already seated and ordered their food and drinks. 

“Oh yeah! I heard from Tenya that you finally sent in your response to the reunion! Do you know when you’re heading down to Musutafu yet? We should get on the same train so that the ride isn’t as boring— well, kinda, since you’ll probably not be talking,”

“Shut the fuck up, I can talk when I want to,” Katsuki scowled, rolling his eyes when all it resulted in was a laugh from Ochako. “I haven’t looked at the train schedule yet. The Shitty Four Eyes approved for both the 28th and 29th off though.”

“Nice! Well, when you figure out when you want to head down, let me know and I’ll be your Anti-Explosion Time buddy for the ride down,” 

“Oh fuck off.”

Ochako laughed again. Katsuki hoped this would be the extent of the reunion talk but she continued, “It’ll be great to see the entire class again, don’t you think?”

“You make it sound like we never fucking see anyone. I literally saw you a few fucking days ago and you spend half your weekends with Frog Face or Four Eyes or the fucking Nerd or whoever the fuck,” Katsuki pointed out. “We see basically everyone at the Billboards too,”

“Don’t be such a bore, Katsuki. Reunions are different from the Billboards. We don’t have to deal with those ‘damn extras’ at the reunion,” She put on her best Katsuki impression at “damn extras,” extending her palms outwards and adding a playful “Boom! Pow!” 

“I don’t fucking sound like that.”

“Yes you do. I’m the great Katsuki Bakugou! Die you fucking piece of shit! Boom! Bam! You fucking extra! Bow before the king! Boomboom!”

Katsuki let the faintest hint of a smile slip. “I have never said ‘bow before the king,’”

“Oh come on Katsuki, you tried to name yourself King Explosion Murder, don’t deny it. Even if you’ve never said it, you’ve definitely thought about it.”

He scowled, muttering a “fuck off”, refusing to acknowledge that yes, yes he had thought about saying it once or twice.

“So you admit that I’m right!”

“Fuck off, I said no such fucking thing.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’ either though.”

“I’m demoting you to a fucking extra, you shitty fucking extra.”

Katsuki was given a brief break from any potential cheeky response from Ochako when the server stepped in with their drinks. They raised their glasses, a silent toast to making it another day alive, to making it as far as they had come, to their friendship.

To the silent understanding that there were some struggles that were best left unshared.

He didn’t press further about whatever it was that was stressing her out, even if he had a strong feeling about what caused it. She didn’t comment on the circles under his eyes or how his mind seemed to wander after she brought up certain high school memories. They talked, ignoring their stressors, and for a while, they could pretend everything was fine.

[hoe-doroki]

I just read your Iida fic with the reader having a breakdown and I love your writing! You portrayed him really well! Are your requests open to do another fic with Iida and some fluff? Anything is fine!

Hey there, nonnie! Thanks so much for the request. Sorry it took a few days to get out--vague requests really stump me sometimes. I had to do a lot of brainstorming to come up with...this? Look, this idea is basically crack and I don’t know what to tell you. Hope someone enjoys it!

pairing: Iida x reader

genre: fluff, mild comfort

word count: 1.8k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something musical about the sound of glass breaking. When it was a clean break, rather than the crushing of a bottle underfoot or a baseball hitting a window, it made a delicate tinkle, like the hit of a glockenspiel. Nice. Pretty.

Job one was cleaning the mess. You used your quirk to hover out of the room, relieved to find that the damage hadn’t made it past your closed bedroom door. All the other lights and windows in the house were in one piece, and thankfully the kitchen had been untouched. You found a dustpan and began trying to erase the evidence.

Not that there was any real chance of that. Two hours into your endeavor, you heard the front door open and cringed. But there was nothing to hide—it wasn’t like any lie in the world could make up for the fact that all of Iida’s glasses were now prescriptionless.

“I’m home!” Iida called as you stood up, trying to regain some of your dignity and circulation in your knees before you came face to face with your boyfriend.

“In the bedroom,” you called. “I suggest you keep your shoes on.”

“Why in the world would I—”

You saw Iida step into the doorway, your teeth gritted nervously as you eyed his reaction. His shoes were already off and his now-singular set of glasses were pointed at the ground, his jaw dropped.

“Honey?” Iida asked when he was done looking at your dustpan and trash bin filled with glass and the many sparkling bits still left on the floor. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, holding up gloved hands to show that you had no cuts to worry about. “Just put on shoes, babe.”

“Right,” Iida said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Right.”

You heard him shuffling back to the door to find a pair of shoes to put on. You’d done the same earlier and, though you were sure Iida felt just as strange about wearing shoes in the house as you did, it was certainly a necessity in this scenario.

“Okay,” Iida said, now shoed and back into the doorway. He had a tense hand pointed at either you or the mess, you weren’t sure. “So what happened here?”

“Well,” you began awkwardly. “I was working on my quirk a little bit. You know how I’ve been trying to hit a high C? Well…I finally did. And, um, it turns out that it breaks glass.”

“That’s a myth,” Iida stated. “High C’s only break glass under very specific circumstances. It would be nearly impossible for your singing to create…to cause all this.”

“No, I know that,” you said, smiling against the hellish backdrop. “My quirk, Iida. We finally know what happens when I sing a high C.”

Iida’s mouth fell open again, smaller this time. “Oh. Oh.”

Your quirk was a…peculiar one. Every note you sang, when sustained for more than a few seconds, caused a different effect. A B flat 4 allowed you to breathe out smoke. A D4 gave you a slight gravitational pull, but you never really used that one, since it only tended to attract pollen and leaves your way. G3 was a little low for you, but allowed you to levitate a couple inches off the ground which, usually, you found to be pretty useless. However, it was sure helpful right now, as you tried to navigate between rare spots of glassless floor.

When most people heard about your quirk, they thought it was really cool. Unlike most, you technically had dozens of quirks. However, most of them were almost entirely useless, and very hard to train, since they all only worked when you were sustaining a note. So you couldn’t use any quirk for more than twenty or thirty seconds at a time. You couldn’t strengthen any of them with those restraints. The best you could do was increase your lung capacity, work on your pitch, and try and stretch your range to see if any notes at the far ends of your register would reveal something more useful or interesting.

And this one was interesting. You could appreciate the irony. You weren’t sure you liked it, though.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” you said before lightly singing a G3 and hovering over to him. “I broke all of your glasses.”

He looked over at the thin shelves that now held nothing but the thin frames of dozens of glasses and unusable, cracked lenses. His face crumbled—it appeared he hadn’t noticed before, his eyes too focused on the shrapnel on the floor.

Iida swallowed and nodded, the corners of his mouth tense. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not mad.”

You put a hand on his cheek, but he was still looking at his ruined collection instead of at you, and your heart clenched a little. “It would be okay if you were mad,” you said. “Those were expensive and you had them for a reason…I’m really sorry.”

“No,” Iida said, shaking his head before making eye contact with you, his face placid. “The reason I had them was in case a pair broke in battle. This wasn’t battle, but it was your quirk training which is of equal importance. So they served their purpose.”

“But my quirk is useless,” you said. “If you’re saying that your glasses’ divine cause was my quirk training then they died in vain, because I’m never going to sing that note again.”

“Hey, there’s no need to say that,” Iida said, rubbing a big hand over your shoulder before pulling you in. “This quirk could be very valuable in a number of situations. What if you need a quick escape out a window but you can’t break through it? Or it could make for a useful surprise attack against a villain.”

“I love your big hero brain, Iida,” you said, rubbing your thumb over his strong cheekbone. “But that’s not exactly useful for a civilian.”

“Right, of course,” Iida said, brows furrowing as he thought more. “Well, it makes for a good party trick? So long as there isn’t anything extraneous that’s broken.”

You giggled at Iida’s sad attempt to comfort you. You weren’t sure that breaking glass to show off would come up at the kind of parties that you and Iida attended. They were mostly benefits that pro heroes had to attend for appearances. But, then again, anything was possible.

Your smile spread to Iida, whose face warmed as he looked at you and soon you were in his arms, wrapped in a big bear hug. You had yet to encounter another person who gave hugs that were quite as good, with his broad chest and thick arms wrapping fully around you so you felt safe and content.

“We can order you some new glasses tonight,” you mumbled into his chest, still feeling a bit guilty about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t a disaster, truly. So long as Iida could keep his glasses in one piece for a few days—which he usually could, despite what his dozens of backups implied—then all that really needed to be done was clean the room, screw in a new light bulb, and find a tarp to put over the window until you could call a window fitting service.

“Actually, I…” Iida pulled away, his gaze back on the shelves. He was scratching his nose and hiding what looked to be a slight blush from you. You cocked your head to the side. “I kind of want to mourn these ones for a minute before we order their replacements. If that’s okay.”

It was all you could do to keep from laughing.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and you were back in his arms, this time providing the squeeze yourself. “Whatever you need.”

You tried to keep Iida from helping with the cleanup—it was your mess, after all—but he would hear nothing of it. Even when you argued that you were the one with a quirk that could help even a little bit. Actually, your slight gravitational pull helped draw the smallest shards of glass out of the crannies in the wood floor, though Iida made you put on protective gear beforehand. The gear was a raincoat, wellies, jeans, and a ski mask, but they did the job.

At the end of it, Iida was holding one of the frames that both lenses had fallen clean out of, examining it. They were in perfect shape, like the lenseless glasses that internet influences wore when they were trying to look nerdy.

“You think we could send these back in so that all we need is new lenses instead of a whole new pair?” Iida asked.

“Aw, like an organ donor?” you said with a grin. “Making sure its sacrifice wasn’t wasted?”

“I’m serious,” Iida said—as though he ever wasn’t. “That’s something we can do, right?”

“Of course, honey,” you said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “We can look into it tomorrow.”

Iida nodded, looking wistful as he set the glasses back in their particular spot, where hopefully they’d soon be able to return whole once more. “Honey?”

“Hmm?”

You were wrapped around one of his arms, hugging it as you leaned into his body, warm from having crawled around the room with you all evening.

“I should have said before, and I’m sorry that I didn’t, that I’m proud of you.”

You nearly scoffed. “For what?”

“You made a big step with your quirk today,” Iida said, smiling at you. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s really not,” you said. “Like I said, it’s not anything worthwhile.”

“Of course it is,” Iida said, quick to correct you. “I got my quirk from my parents, and it’s the same as my brother’s, and that’s its greatest value. Not its strength. Your quirk is a part of you. And that’s its inherent value.”

“You’re just biased because you like the package,” you argued.

“I do,” Iida said with a nod. “But my bias doesn’t matter here. I’m simply stating fact.”

“Iida,” you said, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “You’re too sweet.”

“No sweeter than you deserve,” Iida said confidently. “And that’s my final word on the matter.”

“Mm, I love you,” you said. “And that’s my final word on the matter.”

Iida frowned at you, caught between wanting to repeat the sentiment back and not wanting to go back on what he’d declared as his final word.

“You know what my stance is on that,” he said carefully. You eyed him, a brow arched in challenge. You saw him waver, and a moment later he was leaning down to kiss you, all soft and warm. “But I’ll happily remind you.”

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 19

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger​!

Social interaction has its pros and cons.

Martin considers a way to pass the time.

Technically, there was no call that night.

Martin had had months to familiarize himself with the strange predawn that added a little color to the sky each morning. His home was on the western coast, so of course he didn’t see much of it until he’d made the trek uphill. With some cloud cover and dense fog, though, the light would scatter and cast a cold blanket of grey light over his corner of the world.

Early on he found it sort of nice, seeing the world ‘wake up’. He’d even started to get up earlier than necessary, just to make himself some tea and look out the window for signs of birds or other creatures who made their lives at dawn and dusk. There were some lines of poetry about it somewhere in his notebook, something about the magic of a quiet morning in solitude.

He’d lasted about a week with that. Turned out his life was already quiet and full enough of contemplative solitude, and warm blankets were much better than cold kitchen tile against his feet.

It was during this little sliver of morning when his mobile, vibrating against the wood of his bedside table, dragged him back to consciousness. 

“No…” he groaned, nuzzling into his pillow. It could only be one person. “Don’t make me come in early. Don’t make me come in early, you prick-” 

He reached over (god it was cold) and grabbed the offending object, keeping as much of himself under the blankets as possible and slipping the mobile back under with him. The screen was bright and painful in his cozy darkness. His eyes adjusted, and on his lockscreen the time read 4:06 a.m.

Before he could convince himself to let the damned thing ring itself out, he glanced at the caller ID. If anything it should’ve given him even more reason to let the call go, but Martin’s finger was already pressing the answer button. 

Attempting to whisper, his voice came out rough and croaky. “Jon?”

“Martin. Glad you’re still up,” Jon said in that distant way of someone paying attention to another task entirely. Keyboard clicks could be heard in the background. “How are you doing?”

Still up? Bleary and confused, Martin replied as if he’d just run into Jon at the store, “Fine, I guess? How are you?”

“I’ve successfully whittled down my assignments enough to have personal research opportunities.” There was a weary but nevertheless triumphant edge to his words. “If this is some sort of test of my abilities, I’d say I deserve a raise.”

“Impressive,” Martin yawned. “Does that mean anything for me, or…”

“No, not yet.” He could feel Jon deflate on the other end. “I’ve only just started looking, and Elias is still acting rather blasé about what we found. I hadn’t pegged him as the type to put business relations over the mission statement, but if that’s the case then-”

“Why send you out here?” 

“Precisely.” Jon clicked his tongue. “So I’m going to pry in that direction while digging through old reports. I assume the others will do the same once they’re caught up.”

Well, progress was as good as anything to wake up to. He reluctantly pulled the blankets from over his head and peeked out at his window. The frost was just visible at the edges, its frigid hands creeping across the glass. Perhaps a little while longer under the covers.

“Anyway, I’m glad I caught you,” Jon continued, filling the space Martin had left empty. The keyboard taps had ceased. “I’d decided to give you some breathing room, but you were quiet during the call with everyone and I thought- well, I wanted to make sure you were okay. As much as can be expected.” 

A small, halfhearted smile found its way onto Martin’s face. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“So… are you okay? I know you said you were, but it sounded like you were being polite.”

Martin looked up at his ceiling. “I mean I was being polite, but… Yeah, I’m okay. As much as can be expected, like you said, but okay.” 

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“What? Nothing, it’s good. I’m gl- I’m happy that you’re… doing okay.” Midway between this thought, Jon seemed to switch the mobile from one ear to the other. “If you aren’t, I just hope you know that you can tell me if something is going on. Sometimes there are emotional aspects that contribute to an event-”

As Jon spoke at length, Martin noticed a distinct tumbling feel in the way Jon spoke, like his thoughts were coming faster than his mouth could follow. Not alcohol, surely? No, a different idea had been bothering Martin since Jon had first called.

“-can’t speak for Tim or Sasha about hours, and if you’d rather just talk one-on-one, I’m sure-”

“Right, hours. Jon, I don’t mean to pry, but have you slept at all?”

The stream of consciousness halted in its tracks. “What?”

“You seem a bit… out of it? Have you checked the time recently?”

A moment passed. Then another. Then- “That can’t be right.”

Weakly, Martin replied, “Good morning to you, too.”

“I-” Jon began. He then made a small, irritated noise. “I woke you up.”

Martin ran a hand over his face and pressed it to his upturned mouth. Into it he mumbled, “You really need to sleep.”

As if the hours had finally come crashing down upon him, Jon’s voice dropped low and soft and properly tired. “I could’ve sworn it was earlier.” 

“I mean, in a sense-” 

“You know what I mean.” A yawn finally broke through, but he fought it back down. “I hope it wasn’t too much earlier than your normal wake-up time?”

“Nah. You’ve seen how early my day starts. Besides, my alarm isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to, and you could’ve been Peter calling me in early.” It was like getting up to enjoy the morning, but he was still in bed and someone else was there (sort of). As far as he was concerned, the pros outweighed the cons. 

“Then I’ll hold my apology for a later date, if you don’t mind.” He spoke bluntly, but possibly in a way that was meant to be funny. Martin was still working out when Jon was being blunt in a rude way or in a friendly way, and his gut pushed him toward the latter. “I also won’t apologize for my work ethic. I work better at night, without distractions or other people.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Martin asked, “Okay, I can play along with that, but when do you sleep?”

“We have a cot.”

Martin scoffed. “What, at work?” An image of the three researchers finding different corners in some dark back room to snooze on company time was almost too much.

“Working after-hours is implied in the description of any academic job. If we didn’t steal some of the day back to sleep, we’d all have dropped dead by now.” For a moment his voice strained as if he was stretching, dipping into the background before returning to normal. “Though this past week has been a bit more extreme due to circumstances. I’m not always up until dawn, calling people in a stupor.”

“First time for everything?” Martin said helpfully, pushing down weakly against the rising guilt. “I know it’s a bad situation, but I’m sorry you all have to work so hard.”

“No need for that. I can choose to sacrifice a few nights for something important.” 

Slowly, very slowly, Martin pressed his burning face into his pillow. Maybe it was too early for him after all, to handle anything approaching concern. The heat was surely enough to melt the ice right off the window. Ignoring the ridiculous reaction happening in his cheeks, he turned his face back upwards and mumbled, “Thanks.”

There was a small rustling of papers. With the same damned softness, Jon continued, “I’m sure Tim and Sasha would say the same.”

A quiet thing clung deep in Martin’s throat, and in his nose, and he imagined a version of himself from the night before, scared and powerless and ready to dump any and all his feelings on the first person who would speak with him. Would that have been something Jon was prepared for, if he’d called at a sensible hour? Or if Martin had called first? But it was nearly morning, and he was well rested, and eventually the thought fell away in his wakefulness. 

Without a response to go on, Jon said, "I’m not going to be as… outwardly optimistic as before, but…”

“You’re making progress,” Martin finished, coughing lightly. “I know. I’ll be patient, and careful. It’s hard after the weird stuff we did last week, though.”

“I’d like to say it was all due to extreme circumstances, but we are just like this.” 

“There go my hopes of you all getting proper rest when this is over.”

“S’not impossible, but terribly unlikely.”

Martin sighed, checking his screen clock again. Still some time left. “Is it safe to assume you won’t be sleeping at this point?” 

“Won’t be long until I can go to the archives. I’ll wait until then and avoid being groggy on public transit.” A pause. “Also my last energy drink is still working.”

“Mm.” Letting his forearm fall across his eyes, Martin gave up that particular battle. “Anything new set off your ‘fake’ alarms recently?”

“You’re in luck. Just yesterday a man came in to tell me about his experience with ‘spy birds’ that even you can’t devil’s-advocate your way through.”

“I’ll be the judge.”

It was a tough sell, even for Martin whose own situation made a lot of things seem possible. Midway through he even began to resent the person for wasting time better spent solving Martin’s problems, but that was an emotional rabbit hole for another time. By the end he had to concede that it was more of a conspiracy than a supernatural encounter, if they were going to get into the semantics of it. Still, Jon made it easy to be contrarian.

“When we’re not busy with all this,” Jon said, accepting that Martin wasn’t yet ready to forgo the benefit of the doubt, “I’ll be happy to sit outside and film birds all day for the sake of science, but the man finds perfectly normal birds unsettling.”

With a silly kind of bullheadedness, Martin replied, “Plenty of seabirds around here. Maybe that’s what I’ll do while I wait for something to happen.”

Jon snorted. “I expect a full report by Monday.”

Before Martin could respond, his phone made an all too familiar and dreadful noise. He really should’ve picked a song or something, he thought as he dismissed his alarm. “Well, it’s that time.”

“Yes, I should be getting along with my morning as well. Good luck with your birdwatching,” he said with joking scorn.

“Have fun sleeping on the bus.”

“Ha ha. Goodbye, Martin.”

“Bye.” 

Dropping his arm onto the bed, mobile in hand, Martin ignored the numbness in his fingers and considered how invested he was in writing a fake report about birds just to see the reaction it would get. Maybe he would text Tim about it.

The idea sat in the back of his mind as he got dressed, as he made breakfast, as he put on his shoes and coat and hat. When he opened the door to meet the cold that had settled in overnight, he couldn’t help but wince at the extra bit of sting the wind delivered, but he clung to his fanciful little idea all the way up the hills and through town. 

Creative writing had never been his strong suit. It was debatable if poetry was, but he’d reached a point where it was more of a comforting activity than a skill. Still, as he got to work in the blessedly empty lighthouse, he thought of the little notebook he’d stashed into his bag. If it all came to nothing, he could end up with scraps of text to rearrange into poetry someday.

It was a mess of a book. Technically bound, it was still cheap with some pages starting to come loose from his handling. He’d long ago given up on the idea of a nice looking notebook, especially as it had become personal enough to count as horribly embarrassing. It was inevitable for any poetry notebook of his to become more akin to a scattered, flowery journal of sorts, and this one was no different. 

It was also a step up from previous ones in that it wasn’t some spiral-bound school notebook he’d found in the discount section of the general store. No, he had found it in a bookstore discount section. The stiff cover even had sort of a nice texture before he’d beaten it up by shoving it into a drawer a million times.

The day crawled by with no interruptions, leaving Martin on edge. Peter hadn’t come by once. Perhaps he’d assumed Martin had had any boldness scared out of him, an aggravating thought. He had the will to act. He also had some amount of self preservation left in him, that was all.

By lunchtime he was itching to talk to anyone, but texting the others was off limits and it was so dreary outside that going out to eat was a non-starter. He supposed he could stop by the grocery store. He knew some of the people from when he’d worked there. Most of the ones he’d worked with had also left, but maybe…

No, that was a stupid idea. He wasn’t seeing anyone unless they came to him.

No one did.

So in his time off the clock, he stared at his little notebook and hoped his brain would think of anything to say.

--

The weather had taken a more miserable turn by the time he’d left work in the evening. He only saw a few birds struggling in the gales, none of them particularly watchful. If he had to guess, they didn’t care much about what anyone was doing. Not great material for a report, but maybe for a poem when the feeling hit.

The streets were largely empty as people avoided the high winds and mist that sprayed against Martin’s glasses, making it a challenge to see anything around him. He had half a mind to just stow them away, but there was going to be water in his eyes no matter what he chose to do. Just another little thing to make his day worse that he couldn’t change.

Part of him considered that the weather often matched his mood, but it wasn’t hard for bad weather to pair with sour thoughts. Nearly all weather was bad and nearly all moods were sour. Correlation, etcetera.

As much as he’d wanted to check his phone as soon as work was over, the others could wait until he’d stopped feeling so damned sorry for himself.

And he did feel awful, though there was no inciting incident. It had been a long, tedious day where the words wouldn’t flow, the world was grey, and any residual happiness from his conversation with Jon had been slowly eaten away by the loneliness of the present. Why was it so hard to hold onto those good things? A good start was supposed to make the day better, not make the rest of the day look worse.

It had to be everything at the lighthouse. He’d always been moody as a person, but the stress had to be getting to him. His head shouldn’t have been hurting from holding back tears when nothing had happened.

God, the squinting wasn’t helping, either. He knew where he was going, of course, but the streetlights were barely helping. The sky had decided to paint itself over everything, a dark, grey blob of water and concrete and fog. The walk down the hill was going to be a slippery pain, even in his grippy boots.

Had he passed by the florist? He probably should have by now, but the main road hadn’t ended yet.

And even when he got home, oh joy, it would be to sit at a table and eat with his mother, and based on her tastes she would love to stand outside in the misery of it all even though it would be terrible for her health. What was the point of trying when another person wouldn’t even listen-

He’d been walking for too long. 

The road continued on, no longer heading into the surrounding trees but stretching itself past the point of impossibility. And at the end, in a place where it should not have been visible through the colorless mist, was a large, familiar house.

Ah, Martin thought. Someone had decided to talk to him today.

Looking behind him, the lighthouse was just barely visible. Looking to either side was a fool’s errand, as everything had been consumed by the grey.

He slipped the mobile phone out of his pocket and bent over to shield it from the rain. The screen lit up at his touch, but as expected any and all communication was blocked. Nevertheless, he opened the group chat and began to type.

Martin: i think simon wants to talk. everything is fog and i cant go anywhere else. hoping my phone makes it out so this makes it 

He pressed send, then mustered up whatever hope he had and added:

Martin: talk to you soon

[in-my-jamiebower-era]

Lights up. Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: You’re John B’s sister but secretly dating Rafe Cameron. Sounds like a plan for disaster. Although things might just work out in the end...or not?

Warnings: A few curse words, implied smut, and probably grammatical errors.

Words: 4K+

A/N: I am so sorry it took this long to post. I had to deal with some personal things. So this song is basically about being who you are no matter what. Just doing what you love. So I thought it was fitting Y/N be a Pouge while Rafe be a Kook. Anyways, I just want to say once again that all of you are incredibly sweet!! Thank you for all the love and support. Don’t hesitate to message me if you have any constructive feedback or requests. I really love it when I hear from all of you. Also I know times are hard so if any of you need to talk, please message me. I promise I’ll listen. Anyways once again thank you and I hope y’all enjoy your day! Don’t forget to TPWK!!💓

What do you mean?

I'm sorry by the way

Never coming back down

Can't you see?

I could, but wouldn't stay

Wouldn't put it like that

What do you mean?

I'm sorry by the way

Never coming around

Be so sweet if things just stayed the same

Being a John B’s twin sister definitely came with some perks. Everyone knew not to mess with you or else he would beat their ass. It was like you were untouchable. It was a great feeling. Although growing up a Pouge is great, it still has its not so great moments. Sometimes not know where your next meal is going to come from. Better yet, not having hot water. Sometimes not having water at all. Although one day your life got flipped all the way upside down.

You didn’t expect it to happen, it just did. One minute you were at the chateau than the next you were in bed with Rafe Cameron. You always had a little crush on Rafe but you had to keep that deep down inside and locked away. Until that one crazy, insane, amazing, and almost too got to be true night?

You were drunk as shit, wondering the beach all alone. Just to come across a drunk as shit Rafe Cameron. “Oh God,” you thought. Although when you got a closer look at him, he was beaten and bruised. You secretly brought him back to the Chateau to get him cleaned up. Then came the kiss, then they sneaking over, then the sex, then the “I love yous.” Time really flew during the last year you’d been macking on Rafe Cameron. You enjoyed it though.

It was currently 3 AM in the morning and you were sitting cross-legged on Rafe's bed watching the news because nothing was on. Suddenly you heard the bathroom door creak open, which cause you to jump lightly. The next thing you saw was Rafe Cameron with his towel on his hips, hair still wet and messy. God the sinful things you were thinking of at the moment.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?” Not trusting your voice you just shook your head up and down. He had no idea the effect he was having in you at the moment. Your sex life was not it’s best right now, seeing as though Rafe was always trying to please his dad. Also that no one technically knew about you and Rafe. He promised he would make time for you but it was hard. So you decided to savor the little moments.

He turned around to get some clothes out of his drawer and you trailed your eyes up and down his body. His body was amazing. It’s like he could sense you because he turned around and saw you staring.

“Alright now I know something is up with you Y/N, so it’s better you tell me because I don’t want to force it out of you.” You really didn’t want to tell him that you needed a good fuck. You just really wanted to be intimate with him and show him you loved him. You had been feeling empty inside for the last week and you needed him. So you made the choice to say “Rafe, do you still love me?”

He was still in front of you but he grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the end of the bed. He leaned down with just his towel on. You had a clear view of his glistening chest. He put his hands on your thighs and looks you in the eyes. In a deep voice, he said “of course I do baby girl, did I do something to make you doubt that?”

You signed then you looked down but he grabbed your jaw and said “answer the question.” You knew he knew what you wanted. This is why he got dominant all of a sudden. So you decided to play into his game. So you gave him a sad face and said “it’s just that we haven’t spent any intimate time together in a while and I miss your touch.” You ran a hand over his stomach up to his shoulders. Then you lent over and whispered in his ear “I want to feel you.”

He slowly leaned in and attached his lips to yours. He straddled your hips and pushed you back onto the bed losing his towel. You whimpered at the sight of his semi-hard cock. “You want that baby girl?” He rasped. You nodded your head and he quickly disposed of your shirt and shorts.

He took a look at you and stared for a while, making you very insecure. He hadn’t seen you like this in a while so maybe he didn’t like it? His voice went deep and said, “Don’t cover your beautiful body.” He always hated it when you were insecure about yourself, so he always reminded you of how pretty you were. You were ripped from your thoughts when he kissed behind your ear and whispered: “tonight I’m not just going to fuck you, I’m going to make love to you.” That alone made you moan.

He was clearly turned on, seeing as though he hadn’t had you like this in weeks. He all of the sudden pushed into you slowly, in and out. Whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You moaned “Baby I’m close” he gave you the cockiest smile. You kissed your neck leaving apparent red marks. You both were a moaning mess as your highs hit. You both lay there panting for a while.

He went to the bathroom and got a washcloth and cleaned you up and made sure to be sensitive around your entrance. You found one of Rafe’s shirts and you out in your shorts. He was sprawled out on the bed motioning for you to come to lay down with him. You layed your head on his chest while he played with your hair. He rasped “I love you, baby, I’m sorry I don’t spend enough time taking care of you. I promise I’ll be better because you mean the world to me.”

You smiled up at him and gave me a kiss on the nose “I love you too Rafe.” Then you both drifted asleep with the news still playing in the background.

All the lights couldn't put out the dark

Runnin' through my heart

Lights up and they know who you are

Know who you are

Do you know who you are?

You were suddenly awoken by the sound of Rafe's door being slammed open, Sarah came running in. Sarah was incredibly sweet and kind. She told the Pouges that you stayed at her house with her. When in reality you only stayed over most nights because of Rafe. You basically lived with them. Ward really didn’t care because since Rafe was with you, he had changed for the better.

You heard Rafe holler from beside you “Sarah get the fuck out of my room and leave us alone.” You smacked Rafe but in return, he only pulled you closer. Sarah unexpectedly screamed, “Your brother and the rest of the Pogues are almost here.” That was enough for you to bolt to Rafes' closet. You kept all your clothes there. You heard a loud knock from the door downstairs and froze.

Sarah whisper shouted “both of you get dressed, I’ll stall them. You quickly put on your high waisted shorts and an orange crop top, with some white converses. You ran Rafe's brush through your hair and decided you looked presentable enough. You kissed him on the cheek and told him to wait a while before he came down.

You ran down the stairs and saw all your friends, their faces immediately lit up. John B engulfed you in a hug. “Woahhhh Booker, you’re going to kill me. Have you been working out?” He laughed and playfully elbowed you. As he was pulling away he noticed your neck, purple bruises, curtesy of Rafe Cameron.

“Y/N. What the hell are these?” You felt your stomach churn. Oh God, you are done for. Then all of your friends were looking at you, JJ was seething. He was always really protective of you. You confidently tried to say “I know it looks bad but I have an explanation.” Kie glared at you and said, “who was it?” Sarah could sense something was about to go wrong so she said “It was me!”

Everyone looked at her in shock and so did you. Sarah happily said, “I was trying to teach her and yeah that’s what happened.” No one bought that story what so ever. As if matters couldn’t get worse Rafe Cameron strutted down the stairs.

Your eyes followed him and so did everyone else’s. Pope leaped up and rushed over to examine Rafe's neck. Then Pope shouted, “He’s got them too.” Everyone in the entire room started to see red. You didn’t know what to do. Was this really happening? No more hiding. John B hollered “Are you macking Rafe Fucking Cameron.” Everyone was staring at you, even Rafe. Okay, here it goes.

“Listen before I say anything I need you all to sit down.” With help from Sarah, you got all the Pouges to sit down. You were standing with Rafe behind you. “Yes, I’ve been dating Rafe for about a year.” The whole room erupted into chaos. There were screaming and hollering. All you wanted to do was disappear. You turned around and Rafe saw a few tears fall from your eyes. He hated this for you. He held you close as everyone watched. He kissed your forehead and said, “come on baby it’s going to be fine.”

You wiped away your tears and said “I love him.” You glared at everyone. John B stood up and said, “Dad would be so disappointed in you.” Rafe felt you tense up and he knew what was coming. He wouldn’t get in the way because you needed this.

You were the one seeing red now. “John booker Routledge. Don’t you dare tell me what my father would think of this situation. Dad would be happy for me. He would be jumping off the walls knowing that I’m happy. The truth is you’re scared of me growing up and you still see me as a little girl. You think the entire world revolves around you, well guess what it doesn’t. Also guess what John B, DAD IS DEAD AND HE'S NOT COMING BACK. Get over yourself, I accepted and moved on. It’s your turn.” You didn’t mean to be that harsh but it definitely came out that way.

Everyone looked at you with shocked expressions, even Rafe had no idea what to say. It was an unsaid rule that no one mentioned your dad around John B. That was the first time someone had confronted him about it. John B looked at you with pain in his eyes and said “Don’t bother coming home. As for your boy toy, I hope that he gets a couple of good fucks out of you then runs away.” Now it was Rafe's turn to see red “what the fuck did you just say?” He seethed. You pushed his chest back, telling him to just leave it alone. With that all of the Pogues left, leaving you and Rafe.

You broke down into sobs and curled into his touch. After a while, he willed your tears and said “I know baby, I know. He just doesn’t understand. I love you so much. I promise I’m not here just for a couple of good fucks.” You sheepishly said, “I love you too and I’m sorry for this happening.”

He looked you in the eyes and said “Do not be sorry for your brother's actions. Now come one let’s go back to bed.” So you both played in bed all day just enjoying each other’s warmth.

Shine, step into the light

Shine, so bright sometimes

Shine, I'm not ever going back

Shine, step into the light

Shine, so bright sometimes

Shine, I'm not ever going back

Shine, step into the light

Shine, so bright sometimes

Shine, I'm not ever

You woke up once again feeling like shit. It had been exactly a week and 3 days since your fight with John B. It never got easier through the days, every word said replaying in your mind. At least you got to wake up to the man you loved every morning. This morning you woke up with Rafe watching you. He seemed all too excited to be waking up at 7 AM on a Saturday. You groaned at how happy he looked.

“Y/N, I have an idea.” Oh, great an idea from Rafe Cameron was never good. You muttered an “mhm” which meant keep going. “So there’s a movie night on the beach tonight and I was really hoping you and I could go. We could go to the beach, have a picnic, then go to the movie thing. We could make a whole day out of it. Please?” He looked at you with his bright blue eyes. How could you say no to that? Seriously how?

“Fine. But only because I love you and you’re adorable.” He tackled you in kisses and hugs. “Oh my God Rafe please do not suffocate me.” He practically pulled you out of bed and forced you into the shower. You did your hair and decided on wearing a flowy summer dress and sandals over your red bikini. When you walked out of the bathroom his jaw nearly hit the floor. That was the first time you had actually got dressed in a week.

“Y/N. Baby, you look amazing.” You smiled, you honestly felt amazing. He layed kisses all over your face again. “Come on Rafe, don’t make me change my mind!”

Rafe drove the newest model of a jeep, which you absolutely adored. He held your hand the whole way to the beach and he occasionally kissed it. Every time you felt a little blush creep to your cheeks. It was amazing that he still had that effect on you, he thought.

When you guys first got there you decided to read “Pride and Prejudice.” You loved reading, it was your favorite thing to do (besides Rafe.) Rafe really was happy that you were enjoying yourself but he decided it was time for you to get in the water with him. He didn’t want you to overheat after all. “Come on Y/N, it’s time we got in the water, yeah?” You knew he would not give up. It was better to go then let him pester you for the next hour.

So you stood up and pulled your dress off in one quick motion. You looked at Rafe through your sunglasses and saw he was staring. “Well, are you coming or not? Because if you want to keep staring at me, I’m going back to reading.”

He jumped up and walked towards you mischievously. You could see that sly smile playing in his lips. That stupid, beautiful, amazing, and cocky smile. You were ripped from your thoughts when you were being thrown over Rafe's shoulder. “Rafe! Put me down, I can walk by myself.” You screamed.

“Oh Y/N, not after that smart comment you made.” He was about waist-deep in the water when he flung you back in the water. When you hit the water it was cold but it felt nice. It was good you were finally enjoying yourself. When you emerged from the water Rafe was laughing at your soaking state. “Haha. Very funny.” You stated.

When you both decided it was time for lunch, you watched Rafe get out of the water. His hair was wet and messily styled. He was dripping water and his swim trunks were fitted perfectly. He whispered in your ear “now who’s staring?” You took your book and whacked him with it. “Ouch,” he exclaimed in an overdramatic way.

You both sat down and ate the ham sandwiches Rafe had packed. They were actually not half bad. He had packed a few bears but you guys shared one, you always like it that way.

After a few hours of swimming, sleeping, reading, eating, listening to music, and other stuff, you decided it was time to pack up. The movie was going to start in a little bit and you guys had to go to the other side of the beach. When you both got to the car, you changed into underwear and out your sundress on. Rafe changed his shorts quickly and put on a polo shirt. Rafe started to drive and when you looked in the car mirror your mouth opened wide.

“Rafe Cameron! Why didn’t you tell me I had mascara all over my face.” You quickly wiped it away. He giggled and said, “you looked beautiful either way.” You gave him a death glare.

You guys arrived and Rafe set out two chairs, a few blankets, two pillows, and his two beers under one of the blankets. “Here you go, princess.” He said. You looked at him and just pulled him in for a quick kiss. “Thank you” You muttered against his lips. He pressed a kiss to your temple and said “You’re welcome baby girl.” You heard Topper holler something about Rafe being “pussy-whipped.” Rafe was focused on the movie, but you turned around and winked at Topper.

What do you mean?

I'm sorry by the way

Never going back now

Be so sweet if things just stayed the same

That’s when you saw them. The Pogues. They were all there. When did they get there? Rafe could sense your tension. So he turned where you were looking and he saw them too. He whispered in your ear “It’s okay, nothing is going to happen. I have you.” He gave you a reassuring squeeze and you both continued to watch the movie.

When the movie was over you packed up your things up but Rafe said he had to wring it out. You rolled your eyes at his choice of slang. As you were bringing stuff back to the jeep a teenage boy came up to you. He just stood there for a second but then he said: “hey baby girl, you looking for a man?” You cringed at him calling you “baby girl.” Only Rafe could call you that.

You merely just glanced at him and shoved him off. “Oh come on princess don’t be a bitch. I could show you a good time. You would be lucky to have me.” He said. He started to feel you up.

“Get off of me you asshole.” You hollered.

He was grabbing you in places that even Rafe wasn't allowed to do in public. You pushed him off again but all he did was back you against the car. He ran his hand up your side and said “It’s going to be better if you just comply. Let a real man show you how it’s done.” You were about to spit in his face when you felt about 200 pounds pulled off of you.

“Oh, God.” You thought. This was about to be bad. Your boyfriend Rafe was definitely a hothead. He called it being protective of his girl but it was definitely anger issues. The next thing you saw was the boy pinned to a tree by Rafe. The boy was obviously afraid of what was coming next.

Rafe hollered “You have 5 seconds to explain yourself before I break your neck.” Luckily there were only a few people there. You looked around hoping they wouldn’t be there and sure enough they were, looking straight at you.

The guy wheezed back “Dude she has a nice ass on her, I just wanted to hit that.” He let out a little chuckle. This wasn’t going to be good.

Rafe's fist collided with the boy's face over and over and over and over again. He hollered through the punches “Don’t ever disrespect a woman like that ever again. Women deserve to be treated with the respect you would give to a man.” (I find it extremely disappointing that the only way to get a man to back off of me is to tell him I have a boyfriend. They will respect another man before a woman)

You screamed “Rafe! Stop it. He’s had enough, he gets the point.” There was no way you were getting him off. Then you saw someone running over. You thought “Who is that, wait that’s John B! What’s he about to do?”

John B grabbed Rafe and pushed him away. He stood between the boy and Rafe. John B grabbed the boy by his shirt and said “If you ever touch my sister like that again I will not hold him back next time. Now get the fuck out of here before I beat your ass.” The boy just ran off looking as if he’d seen a ghost.

You ran over to Rafe and held him. He looked and you and said, “Are you okay?”

You playfully hit his arm and said “what the fuck do you mean am I okay? You’re the one who just beat the shit out of that guy.” He was about to respond when you heard a voice clear behind you. You were met with 3 pairs of eyes watching you.

John B said shyly “can we talk?”

You laughed dryly. “Why” is all you said.

“I just need to say a few things,” he replied. You nodded telling him to continue. “Okay so first of all I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re truly sorry. We have treated you like shit for the past week. What you said was completely truthful, I don’t want you to grow up. I remember you as this little girl that I always feel the need to protect. I know that it’s your life and you can make these decisions now. I support what decisions you make. After what I’ve seen Rafe do for you, I understand. I don’t want you to get your heartbroken and from what I can tell he won’t break it. I love you and I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I want my sister and my best friend back.”

You ran over to him and gave him a big hug. “I’m sorry for being harsh about dad.” You replied. You motioned for the rest of the Pogues to join the hug. Kie had a tear running down her cheek and she said “I’m really sorry Y/N. I miss you.” You only cried in response.

Then the unthinkable happened, JJ motioned for Rafe to join the hug. He was hesitant at first but he joined. You all stood like that for a while before JJ said: “okay enough with the circle jerk.” All of you laughed through the tears.

When you all pulled away John B bro hugged Rafe. You were so proud of them both. Pope then said, “anyone want beers at the chateau?” Everyone raised their hands.

All the lights couldn't put out the dark

Runnin' through my heart

Lights up and they know who you are

Know who you are

Do you know who you are?

You all got back to the chateau and decided it was time to put all the tension to rest. John B brought out all the beers, of course, you and Rafe shared one. You guys were all laying in the hammocks talking of various things. Then JJ said, “so now that we’re going to be seeing a lot more of him, I need to know his intentions.”

You leaned into Rafe's chest and muttered “oh my God.”

He sarcastically replied “fine I’ll let John B handle this.” You turned and looked at John B, giving him a warning glare. He gave you a smirk then said “As long as you guys don’t fuck on my couch or hammocks I’m fine.” Rafe practically died choking on his beer. All of the Pouges burst out laughing.

“Too late.” You said quietly. Rafe looked at you with wide eyes. He heard you. He ran his hand up and down your back. Then gave you a kiss on the temple.

You couldn’t be happier that the Pogues and your boyfriend were getting along. Everyone deserves love right? It doesn’t matter what kind. Love has no labels. You loved Rafe and he loved you, there was no doubt about it. It worked out in the end. That day John B came over and yelled at you had been the worst. Rafe picked up your missing pieces and put them back together. The principal of the thing is don’t be ashamed to do what you love. When the lights come up, just be who you truly are.

@afterglowsb-tch13 @country-club

@starrystarkey93 @trashmouthpogues

@elegant-daisy @sortagaysortahigh

@girlsru1eboysdroo1 @gimmethejohnd

@obx-direction-sos @lahey-paradise

@drewsephsmiles @annedub @peoples-trash

@drewswannabegirl @snkkat @nina1800

@fangirlfree

[phoenixyfriend]

Sasuke/Karin, 48+100

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

48. Fake Dating 100. Accidentally Saving the Day

Okay so I have been struggling with this one because it just feels really mean to Karin but I finally have an idea.

Takes place after Sasuke kills Itachi, but before he goes after Killer Bee.

Also available on AO3

————

“I’ll stay with Sasuke-kun!”

Karin latches on to Sasuke’s arm and presses her cheek to his shoulder. Sasuke doesn’t want anything as little as he wants human contact right now, but there’s a pitch in Karin’s voice that isn’t usually there, and her nails are digging in to Sasuke’s arm. It’s enough that he doesn’t immediately shake her off, trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

“Oh,” the man who claims to be Madara says, voice low and rough. “I wasn’t aware you two were so… close.”

Sasuke isn’t close with anyone. Not Taka, not Naruto, not Sakura, not Ita–

“Hn,” Sasuke says, looking away. Karin giggles in a way that sounds like someone else, someone that doesn’t have scalpels in her soul, and rubs her cheek against his arm. She nuzzles, like a cat.

“Aren’t you a little young to be sharing a bed?” Madara asks, tilting his head.

“Aren’t we a little young to be international criminals?” Karin challenges back.

Madara scoffs. “Teenagers.”

He disappears in a whirl, right into his eye, and Sasuke moves away from–

Her lips press to his ear, and she whispers, “he’s still watching us.”

She pulls back, and when he meets her eyes, there squeezed half-shut, looking at him over her glasses. There’s a blush in her cheeks, an embarrassed smile on her face, and she tucks her hair behind her ear nervously. “I mean, um, if you want to, Sasuke-kun.”

Sasuke doesn’t remember how to smile. He doesn’t remember what it is to act like he enjoys somebody’s presence. His soul feels like it’s scrubbed raw, clawed open, scooped out and filled back in with pitch and tar.

He inclines his head, and says, “I’m… not in the mood.”

He just killed his brother, and Karin is implying that she suggested something like out of those dirty magazines Naruto used to look at for ideas on that stupid pervy jutsu of his.

“Of course,” Karin says, with a soft smile that does not belong on her face. She’s acting like–like Sakura. Sasuke doesn’t want soft and sweet around him. Soft and sweet get ripped up and spit out by the world. He picked Taka for a lot of reasons, but they’re all Oto brats. They’re all assholes, even Juugo sometimes. “I’ll stick to my side tonight, okay?”

There is no ‘her side.’ They’ve never shared a bed before, except that one time all four of them had been on a single mattress, and that was only because the bed had been big enough for six. For some reason. It was cheap, he hadn’t questioned it.

“Thank you,” Sasuke says instead. He meets Suigetsu’s eyes and narrows his eyes just a tad. He almost casts a genjutsu to share information, except if Madara is still watching them somehow–and Sasuke trusts Karin, if she says he is–then there’s no way to do it either handsigns or Sharingan, both of which Madara would notice. Sasuke isn’t that good yet. Very few people are.

“Let’s lie down,” Karin suggests, a hand on his upper back propelling him towards the bed in this room. Sasuke doesn’t want to leave Juugo with just Suigetsu, but whatever’s going on must be important. It has to be.

Karin wouldn’t be pulling this shit if it wasn’t.

She changes a few feet away from him, as if it’s normal for him to see her half-naked, which it isn’t, even if she’s seen him nearly naked for battle reasons, medical reasons, onsen reasons and…

Well, Karin doesn’t strip as often as Sasuke does. Most people don’t, but Karin is even more concerned about keeping her body covered than, like, that one Hyuuga in his Academy class. Karin’s got her scars, and that’s more than reason enough.

Sasuke wonders if Itachi had scars. If he’d--

“Hey.”

A hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes. He doesn’t shake it off, much as he wants to. “What.”

“You’re spiraling,” she says, like they’re actually together, and not just... whatever this is. “Come back to me.”

Is this what couples are like? He’s not sure he likes it. Sasuke’s not sure he likes anything right now.

“Come to bed,” she coaxes, like they’ve done this a million times. “You’ll feel better with some sleep.”

“I’ve been asleep for days.”

“No, you’ve been unconscious for days, it’s different,” she insists. “Listen to the medic.”

Karin isn’t, technically speaking, a medic. She’s a biological researching with a working understanding of the human body. She’s the closest he has, though. She’s probably right about this.

“Hn,” he says, but slips into bed anyway. She follows, and pulls at him when he tries to curl with his back to her.

“Sasuke,” she says, a request and a reprimand all in one. “Let me see your eyes.”

He stiffens, and her hand presses lightly to his shoulder.

“Please?” she asks, and the faintest pulse of chakra on his lightning-charred pathways taps out ge-n-ju-tsu. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

He rolls over and lets his eyes come to life, meeting hers and trapping them both in... it’s not Mangekyo, not yet, he doesn’t want to bleed for this, to bleed away Itachi’s gift on a farce of subterfuge, but there’s a bit of time-compression anyway. He knows how to do that much.

“Oh thank fuck,” Karin swears. “Thank you for playing along, Sasuke, you have no idea wh--”

“Talk,” Sasuke says.

She blinks, and pouts, and huffs, and adjusts her glasses. “That man is mad as a hatter and I don’t know exactly what his intentions are, but they’re not anything good.”

Sasuke crosses his arms and waits.

“He’s lying about being Madara, obviously,” Karin says. “And he’s... I don’t know, he’s got some technique that lets him be here-but-not, probably a variation on that teleport he showed off. I think he’s spying on us after he leaves, so I needed an excuse to just... yeah.”

“Okay,” Sasuke says. “What else?”

“Whatever he said about Itachi and the village... he’s holding back the whole truth,” Karin says. “He told some of the truth, and obviously I can’t tell exactly what he’s hiding, but there was... I dunno, satisfaction? Vindictiveness? He was, like, proud. Of Itachi getting pushed into killing the clan. I don’t know if he was involved in it or not, but my money’s on this fake Madara manipulating the clan, Itachi, the Hokage, or... I don’t know. All three? Anyone else that was involved? I don’t have enough background information to know for sure.”

Sasuke’s mental representation of himself squeezes his fingers into his biceps. He can’t keep this genjutsu up much longer without it getting suspicious. “Is he still watching us?”

“Yes.”

Fuck. “I still need to kill--”

“Sasuke, no,” she says, coming closer. “Please, just... just hold off on the revenge until we know more about what’s going on.”

“But Itachi--”

“Sasuke, please,” Karin says. “You killed Itachi. You did that, because you didn’t have all the information, and you were being manipulated and lied to by people older than you. What did I just say was happening?”

“You said he told the truth,” Sasuke says. “That Konoha--”

“FUCK Konoha,” Karin says. “Who do you trust more, me or the guy that wears a full face mask and lies about being a hundred-year-old relative?”

“But--”

“Who do you trust?” Karin demands. “Me or him?”

Sasuke doesn’t trust anyone.

“He is telling you what you want to hear,” Karin says, teeth grit. “But you met him a few hours ago, and he’s clearly incredibly suspicious. Please listen to me when I tell you that it makes more sense to collect information first. Hell, we can break into Konoha’s archives if you want. We can, I dunno, find your old team captain and tell him what fake Madara told us, and get him to break into archives for us. But, Sasuke, please remember that you picked us. You picked this team, and part of the reason you picked me is because I am the best goddamn sensor on the continent, and I know when people lie.”

She’s not wrong.

But... Itachi.

“We’ll talk again in the morning,” Sasuke decides, and breaks the genjutsu.

Karin pouts at him for a moment, and then wipes the look away and smiles at him, kind and pitying. “It gets better,” she says. “Eventually. Usually. Um, I mean, we’ve all lost a lot, but Juugo killed his parents by accident when he was four, ya know? He probably has all that ‘similar life experience’ stuff going on.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Sasuke asks, trying to talk like a... he doesn’t know. Like an upset boyfriend, maybe. “Just... I need to sleep.”

“Okay,” Karin says, and tries to take one of his hands. He pulls it away before she can touch it, and she freezes, then pulls her hand back to her own chest. “Good night, Sasuke.”

“Good night.” He sounds stilted even to his own ears. Hopefully, fake-Madara will attribute that to the trauma and grief instead of the awkwardness of not actually being in a relationship with Karin.

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

From there on, things drift sideways into Sasuke making slightly better decision on account of not trusting Obito as much, and trusting Karin to tell him when something’s a bad idea. He still makes bad decisions, because that’s just who Sasuke is as a person, but those decisions tend to skip over things like “attempts to kidnap Killer Bee” and just goes straight for Danzo. Obito is tired of his shit, but so is Kakashi, so Obito lets it slide. Sure, he’d rather have the Hachibi in the statue, but Sasuke’s causing grey hairs in a man that Obito half-hates and half-is-in-love-with, so it’s not all bad.

Zetsu does not agree, but Zetsu’s opinion is trash so we don’t care.

Technically Karin’s choice to fake date Sasuke in order to get him information does save the day, if only in the sense that the world is slightly less-fucked-over by the end of the fourth war, because Sasuke was faster about getting his head out of his ass.

[aesthbaby]

You’re going to be okay

Summary: Reader and Emily meet as ghosts in a hospital after a case

Pairings: Reader x Emily Prentiss (Emily x JJ implied)

Prompt: Reader and Emily as ghosts haunting the same place (School, hospital, house, whatever). Reader has been dead for a few years and helps Emily deal. They end up liking each other and maybe have ghost fun all over the place. ;)

Warnings: a handful of curse words | death | sadness

Word Count: 4k

Master List 

Pt. 2

“What the hell...” the agent looks around the bright hospital room, she’s standing in the middle of the hallway while nurses and doctors rush past her. “Excuse me,” she reaches out to a nurse but the woman walks right past her. She turns in circles with a very confused expression.

“You’re okay,” you say as Emily whirls around to face you.

“I’m sorry, what?” She’s pretty and younger than most of the people you encounter.

You try to walk closer to her but she backs away and rests her hand on her gun. You laugh a little at that, but now comes the hard part. “I’m not going to hurt you. To be technical, I wouldn’t be able to do that even if I wanted to.”

“Wha-” she stammers, more people come rushing past the two of you. “Hey, that’s my team!” she starts to run after them but you appear in front of her, effectively blocking her path.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna do that.”

“Why can’t they see me?” she asks.

“Come with me.” you offer your hand but she doesn’t take it. You transport both of you into an empty inpatient room. “What’s your name?” you ask with a small smile but her eyes are narrowed on yours.

“I need to get back to my team.” she stands up and tries to head for the door but you block her path again. “How are you doing that?”

“Please,” you say softly while gesturing to the bed. “Sit down.” When you don’t make a move to faultier she reluctantly sits down on the hospital bed. “What’s your name?”

“Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss.” she answers professionally.

“Emily.” you say softly. “My name’s y/n but you can call me y/n/n’

“What is going on?” her eyes look a bit glossy but something tells you she’s not going to cry in front of you. You look into her dark eyes, she looks so tired and hurt. “Am I...” she chokes, almost shedding a tear. “Dead?” She whispers the word like it’s forbidden and she’ll be in trouble for saying it. Like she doesn’t want to accept the reality of it all.

You take her hand and squeeze it reassuringly. “Emily-”

“Just tell me!” She demands 

After a minute of silence you whisper, “Yes.” That’s when the dam cracks and you see a tear glide down her cheek.

“What happened?” she asks after a moment. Some spirits you’ve talked to have been completely distraught when they die because they remember how horrible their death was and how it all felt but luckily for her, she doesn’t remember yet. Which makes your job of transitioning her a lot easier.

“You were shot while working on a case, by someone your team calls ‘unsub.’ There’s another woman here by the name of ‘JJ,” her ears perk up at the mention. “You sacrificed yourself for her, the gun was aimed at her but you stood in the way. The bullet exited your body and went into her shoulder. JJ suffered a flesh wound but you didn’t make it out.” As you finish you see that her face is now full of despair, tears, and grief. “But that was a few days ago,” with her confused facial expression you continue, “To be fair I’m not completely positive about the timeline,” you almost laugh but now isn’t the time. “Spirits, ghosts if you may, do not have the greatest perception of time.” she doesn’t look very amused so you move on. “You were stuck in a type of limbo for a while but now you’re here.” You gesture around the room.

Now her face has morphed into a look of frustration. Uh oh...

“You say that like its a good thing.” She stands and marches out the room before you can do or say anything. When you catch up to her you decide not to stop her.

“Emily, where are you going?” You practically jog alongside her. Damn this girl can run.

“Where do you think I’m going? I need to find my team. She stops in her tracks when she realizes you’re both back where you started. “What the-” she looks up bright at the ceiling and squints from the overwhelming light.

“Ah,” you touch her arm in hopes of getting her attention. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why is everything so bright?” she asks while rubbing her eyes.

“Its always like that for new spirits, you’ll get used to it.”

“New spiri-” shit she looks angry “I’m not a spirit, ghost, whatever you want to call it.” She looks agitated, please don’t fuck this up. You’ve done your job well for years but there’s something different about her.

“Okay,” you hold your hands out towards her. “What do you want to do Emily?” you try to reason with her.

“I want to see my team.” she says sadly, it looks like she’s about to cry again.

“You want to see your team, okay, I can do that.” She nods in agreement and then starts to cry but only a little. “Emily, who do you really want to see?”

“Huh?” She looks up in confusion. 

“Who do you really want to see?” You ask gently and a lot slower. “JJ? Is that who you want to check on?” She stares for a minute and then nods. “Okay,” she then starts to cry even more. “I can do that for you.” She collapses in your arms and you stroke her back sympathetically. While her head’s in your arms you transport both of you to the room where the woman named JJ is. She’s fixing coffee for herself in one of the ‘close family’ waiting rooms. They’re usually a lot smaller than the main waiting rooms and aren’t open to the public. Her arm is in a sling and she’s still wearing her work clothes. No wonder Emily is crazy about her, she’s beautiful. “See,” you lightly nudge Emily “She’s fine.”

The agent stands straight and looks over at JJ, she lets out a sigh of relief like she was holding her breath before. “She’s okay.” She walks over to the blonde and tries to hug her but she goes right through. She looks down at her hands like they’re foreign to her, then she starts to stammer.

“You can’t touch her Emily,” You pause before continuing, debating on if you should tell her the next part. “At least not right now.” Her red-rimmed eyes shoot up towards yours.

“What does that mean?”

“New ghosts are sort of the equivalent of newborns; weak and fragile, also very powerful in their own way. You know, with the strong lungs, untouched sense of taste, strong grips, and how close they are to the supernatural world. New spirits have light sensitivity, memory issues, time distortion, and have basically no control over their abilities. Not being able to touch, interact, or disrupt the physical world is one of the abilities you cannot control.”

“But I can try?” she looks hopeful “Right?”

“No Emily that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Irrational ideas are also prominent in new ghosts. You’re pretty smart Agent Prentiss and if you were in your right mind you’d know this is a crap idea.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“Even if you could interact with her what would you do? Hug her? Write a note to her?” Her face gets even sadder, you take her hands in yours. “You’re not apart of their world anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be there for them.” you pull away from her “I’ll give you some time alone with her. Just sit with her for a bit, say your piece, do whatever you need to do.” Before leaving you turn back to her. “Although you cannot interact with her, she can still feel your presence. You love her?” she doesn’t say anything but its quite obvious. “Yeah, well if your love is strong enough, just you being here will give her a sense of comfort. I always hear doctors say that to the grieving but trust me, it’s real.” When you leave the room you make sure to stay close. Just in case Emily needs you or you have to stop her from trying to see herself.

What’s happening to her is sad and all but over the years you’ve seen thousands upon millions of spirits. The stories you’ve heard have been horrific, romantic, sad, violent, and on rare occasions, happy. A pedophile died in this hospital after being beaten within an inch of his life by a group of high school kids. Obviously it’s not something to be cheery about but he finally got what he deserved in the most painful way possible. Watching him wander through the halls covered in blood was entertaining and a happy ending for all. You watched him go into the darkness and the world felt a little lighter. Now he’s where he belongs.

 There was also a couple that sacrificed themselves for each other. It kind of reminded you of Romeo and Juliet. 

At some point all of the stories start to blur together, still, you remember them all. Its why you’re here.

“She’s going to be okay.” you hear Emily say from behind you. Her face is littered with tears so you decide to pull her in for a brief hug. “Right now she’s on the phone with Will, her husband.” There’s definitely a problem there. Sounded like she wanted to barf at the mention of him. “He and the kids are on their way here.” She takes a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” you shrug “Anything.”

“You said I was stuck in Limbo for a while, what did you mean by that?” Another thing you’re debating telling her, but it wouldn’t do any good to hold back.

“When people go into comas or any type of unconscious state they are brought to this empty mental space. It’s basically a representation of your self conscious, your safe space if you will. Everyones’ looks a little different. Most of the time you’ll have a spirit guide talking you through it. On rare occasion, there are some people who do not have a guide so your brain will use someone closest to you in order to help you through it. They usually help you decide what’s next.”

“Who was mine?”

“No idea.” and I’m met with a scuff “Its not my department.”

“Depart-” she narrows her eyes on you. “What is this a corporation?”

“No Emily its not like that.” Before you can finish she’s already walking away from you but she can get too far you blimp in front of her. “Only you know the answer to that question, I can’t get into your head. I only know a limited amount of information about Limbo because its not my place.”

“Then how do you know so much about me?”

“I...”

“Exactly!” I’m going to need this woman to stop storming off in the middle of a conversation. “You know a hell of a lot more than you’re letting on.”

“I’m telling you everything you need to know.” You ineffectively defend yourself.

She scuffs “What you're doing is proving my point.”

“Alright,” you stop her “Ask me anything.”

She seems to consider it and then after a minute, she begins. “Who are you?”

You’re speechless for a second, surprised by her first question. “Excuse me?”

“Who are you? You’ve told me nothing about yourself except your name. So who are you” Wow! You’re very forward.

“I’m honestly not sure how to answer that.”

“Are you a ghost, spirit, whatever?” She crosses her arms defensively.

“Yes. What else would I be?” you laugh a little at that.

She shrugs, “How do you seem to know so much about me?”

“Because I heard your team talking and sometimes I just get a feeling.” At her suspicious expression, you continue. “I’ve been around so long and met so many different people that I have sort of a 6th sense. I also heard your people talking about you and the incident.”

Her face morphs into that of sympathy.“How long have you been here?”

“Not long, a few years, maybe four or five. Its hard to tell. All I have to go on is medical charts, calendars, and other spirits.”

“What did you mean by ‘not my department?”

“It’s not a job in the sense  you’re thinking.”

She looks almost hesitant to ask the next question. “How’d you die?”

You take a sharp intake before answering, “I was poisoned.” You feel a tear prick your eyes, you never talk about your death because you’re always busy dealing with everyone else’s. ‘‘The doctors did everything they could but it was too late, it had already reached my bloodstream.”

She looks as if she regrets her actions but if she cared she wouldn’t have asked that question. A bit rude in my opinion. “I’m so sorry.” She rubs your arm lightly.

“It’s okay.” You reassure her. “After my death, I stuck around, I became a Wanderer.” Before she can interrupt you again you quickly answer her unanswered question. “A Wandering spirit is one of the worse kinds. They died way before their time and left too many things unfinished in their life. Usually, your self conscious/Limbo stage is supposed to help with that but since I was never ‘unconscious’ I didn’t go through one.” You want to believe that you’re telling her all of this because she asked but its because she’s easy to talk to. Spirits are very selfish in your experience so its nice to have someone like her here to listen to you. Calling them “selfish” isn’t fair, they suffered major trauma and someone needed to help them through it. “It’s really hard to help a wanderer move on so there’s still 3 or 4 moving around but they don’t bother anyone. Most of them are busy trying to leave the hospital or get back to their bodies.”

“That is so sad.”

“I’ve tried my best to help them and I’ve been pretty helpful over the years but they just would not let go.” you trail off in thought.

“Hey,” she rubs your arm again. “What about you?”

“What about me?” You repeat confused.

“You said you were one. What happened?”

“I figured it out.” You shrug nonchalantly “There was no one around to help me so I helped myself. All of the spirits I ran into were also lost but they found their way. It’s complicated I know. So I started to take notes on their experiences and applying them to myself. Whenever I would meet a very religious person I’d rack their brains on how they felt about all of this. You’d be surprised by the number of priests I’ve met.” you both laugh at that, she has the most beautiful smile you’ve seen in a while. “Instead of moving on, I decided to stay and assist the new spirits with their transition.”

“You’re allowed to do that?”

“The invitation doesn’t expire...or at least that’s what I’m told.” You immediately regret revealing the last part to her.

“What you’re told?” She repeats. You panic a bit and try to walk away but the brunette quickly grabs you by the forearm and turns you around. “Hey, no that’s my thing remember? Now, who told you that?”

You weigh your options and telling her the truth seems to be one of the worst ones but something about Agent Prentiss makes you want to tell her all of your secrets. “A saint.”

“A saint?”

“Yes, a saint.”

“Like in the bible?” She asks completely baffled.

“Actually the Catholics got it wrong, they’re not at all like what we were taught growing up. Apparently, there was word that a wandering spirit found their way and stayed to help others transition. Said spirit being myself. He basically came to bestow his blessings and let me know the invitation doesn’t expire.”

“So God is real? Heaven is real?” Never took her for the religious type.

“Truth is, I don’t really know Emily. Its more complicated than heaven and hell. Black and white. God and science. Its not my place to tell you what to believe in.”

“Fair enough.” After a beat of silence she asks, “So what do we do now?”

“What do you want to do?” you ask softly.

She takes a deep breath before answering, “I want to see my team.”

“Are you sure? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Yeah,” she shrugs your concern off “I’m sure. Can you take me?” 

You nod and then take her hand in yours. You take her to her room, lucky for you her team is all standing outside of the room while the morgue nurses take care of her. When ghosts see their bodies there tends to be a bad reaction. When she sees her team there seems to be a level of tension lifted off her shoulders. She really does love them, and they love her back. They’re a family, not a team. You give them some time alone while you contemplate your choices. Am I doing a good job or making this worse for her?

Your thoughts are interrupted by her walking up to you, she’s not crying but you can tell she wants to. “I uh,” she stumbles “Are they going to be okay? I want them to get through this.”

“They’ll be okay Prentiss.” you stroke her crossed arms.

“How do you know that?”

“Like I said agent, I’ve met enough spirits to know how death affects a family.” She’s not buying this. “Look I can call in a favor if you don’t believe me.” Why are you offering this? Favors are a one time thing and you might need it.

“Could you call in that favor for me? Please?”

You smile at her and then nod. “Of course Emily, but in order for me to do that I need you to do me one teeny favor.”

“Anything.”

You transport both of you into the floral courtyard. “You have to stay here while I call in that favor.”

“Why?”

“Emily, you have to stay here. I don’t need you running around causing trouble for yourself.”

She gives you a very suspicious look before reluctantly agreeing. You don’t trust her answer so you make sure to stay nearby while praying to Saint Francis of Assisi, he’s the one that owes you.

After convincing him that this is necessary and you’re doing this for the right reasons, he agrees. “There’s something different about her? Tell me what it is.”

“No.” You flat out tell him. “Remember what I said about asking nicely when you want something.”

“Please, excuse my actions dear, it appears that I am out of conversational practice.” 

“Its okay France.” you laugh “Now can you please help me help her?”

“Of course, whatever you desire.” He plucks the image into your brain. “Next time I am near we must discuss your muse.

You laugh again at his antics, “Whatever you say France. Whatever you say.”

When you return to the courtyard to discover its deserted. “Shit!” You pick up your feet and make a mad dash through the hospital but it ends shortly with Emily standing in the middle of the pediatric hallway. “Hey!” you grab her shoulder but she doesn’t turn around. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

Her eyes are fixated elsewhere, almost trance like. “The girl, she was crying.” she points in front of her and you follow her line of sight. “Why is she crying? Why isn’t anyone helping her?”

She wasn’t meant to find the pediatric unit. You were supposed to keep her as far away from here as possible. “Emily...” the words fall dead on your lips. She walks out from under your touch and toward the crying child. “Hi.” she says while crouching down her eye level. “My name’s Emily. What’s your name?” The child’s cries dialed down to puppy like whining.

“Jonah.” She can’t be older than 6 years old. She’s in her pajamas with a small blank and little brown bear. “My friends call me Jo.”

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” she begins to wipe the child’s tears with the pad of her thumb.

“My- my- my mommy, she-” the poor girl could barely get anything out through the sniffling.

She shushes the baby and pulls her into her arms. “Its okay Jonah, you’re okay.”

After her breathing starts to steady she says, “My mommy and daddy are crying and they can’t see me.” She then starts to cry again and Emily just holds her tighter.

“Jonah,” she pulls her away so she can look into her eyes. “My friend here,” she looks over her shoulder to you. “Is going to help you. Okay?” The kid just nods in response. “You have to go with them, okay?

“I don’t want to leave my mommy and daddy.” she whines.

“I know, I know but...” she draws “You can take your blanky and bear with you.” she promises with a big smile. “Okay?”

“Can you go with me?” Emily looks back at you for approval but you just shrug.

Another thing about ghosts is that the children, especially the younger ones, are easier to convince. It makes your job significantly easier but that doesn’t make it any less depressing.

So you take them into the light with Emily holding the child’s hand. “All you have to do is walk through Jonah. Its better on that side.”

She looks up at Emily and then back at you. “Promise?” she holds out her pinky and you instantly take it.

“Promise.” 

She looks towards Emily for confirmation. “Its okay.” She lets her hand go and before crossing, she looks at you and Emily one last time, then waves goodbye.

“You’re disturbingly good at that. Your job requires you to work with kids often?”

“In the worst circumstances.” she answers. “Now,” she turns to you “My team.”

“Your family, Agent Prentiss, and don’t worry they’re going to be fine.” The clips of her loved ones start to play in your head.

“How do I know that?” 

“What so you don’t trust me anymore?” you joke but she doesn’t laugh “Sorry, right. Give me you hands.”

“Why?”

“Just give me your hands Agent Prentiss.” She slowly gives you her hands. “Take a deep breath for me, Softie.” She actually laughs/huffs a little at that. “Are you ready?” She nods and you begin to release the clips into her subconscious; it implants itself like a memory. When you finish you open your eyes she’s surprisingly not in tears, hell I know I would be if I wasn’t so numb to grief. The clips are a perfect combination of tragedy and joy but in the end, they’re okay.

“So,” She adjusts herself “Do I want to know what you had to do to pull that off?”

“I blew a god.” at her wide eyed reaction you burst into a fit of laughter. “I’m kidding Prentiss, I’m kidding.”

“Oh haha very funny.” She soon joins in on your laughter and oh my god it sounds amazing. “Hey,” She gets your attention and looks deeply into your eyes. “Thank you for that. Really.”

You pull her in for a big hug and while her head’s down you take both of you to the green yard. (Another courtyard in the middle hub.) There’s a ton of miniature yards with different themes in order to help patients get fresh air and a better view without putting themselves in harm’s way. The kids love the butterfly garden the most, directly in the middle of the pediatric wing. Your favorite is this one but you have no idea what its meant to be called so you just call it the Green Yard. She lets go of you and now you’re both left with a comfortable silence. “What do we do now?” She asks you for the 3rd time and I’m not even sure how to answer.

“Are you ready to move on?”

“Am I ready to go into the light you mean?” You know for a smart person she asks some dumb questions.

”Yeah.” you nod, “If you’re ready I can take you.”

“Actually,” she pauses while stepping towards you. “I’d like to stay.” Well that one threw you for a complete loop. At your facial expression she continues. “Not forever of course and only if the said ‘invitation’ you talk about doesn’t expire.”

“You- you want to stay?” you stutter.

She nods with all serious. “Why would I be in rush a rush to leave when I could help other spirits? You saw that little girl! She had no one.”

“Yes well this isn’t a decision to take likely.” You offer her a small smile but she doesn’t take it. Her face is stoic and is giving me major compartmentalization vibes.”Emily do you seriously want to continue helping victims even in the afterlife?”

“Yes. I do.” She takes one of your hands. “There’s nothing I’d rather do.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 2/ is here