#Finishing off with more silliness - it's been a very gentle last several months (other than the Nnyspam shh) lots of silly soft ideas :)

[wanderinginksplot]

Riye (A Favor) - Alpha-17/f!Reader fic

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Third installment of my Alpha-17/fem!reader fic!

Word-Count: 3,100

Warnings: aggressive flirtation, Alpha is rude.

---

You carefully straightened the neckline of your shirt, eyes on the refresher mirror. It might be silly, but today marked a full month since you had come to Kamino, and you wanted to look your best.

Your outfit had survived the morning, despite a meeting with several Kaminoans who wanted updates on your progress. You had been able to deliver good news - that you were right on schedule - but a sense of doubt overshadowed any triumph you might have felt. The first deadline had been met, but the next one promised to step up the workload, and you were already feeling overwhelmed at the idea.

Still, you were determined to push the negativity out of your mind. You would figure out a better schedule to complete the work later. Today was a celebration.

The bad thing about taking more care with your appearance was that it attracted more attention than usual from the cadets. You had politely turned away two different groups of young men by the time Alpha was due to arrive in the cafeteria. Another cadet - alone, this time - was doing his best to keep from being dismissed as well.

"Was it raining when you came in, ma’am?" he asked, leaning over you. "I have flight drills after this and it gets even more dangerous in the rain."

You did your best not to smile at the obvious way he was hinting about being a pilot. "You know, I think it was raining the last time I was near a window," you told him, voice grave.

"Then I'm going to need some luck to survive," he said dramatically, flashing you a smile he clearly hoped would be charming. "I've heard a kiss from a beautiful woman is a good start. What do you think? It might help me survive the afternoon."

"I wouldn't count on it," a dark voice warned.

The cadet stood as straight as possible as Alpha approached. The captain brushed your new pilot friend aside with a twist of his armored shoulders and sat down. He proceeded to start eating, ignoring the cadet completely.

Any other cadet would have backed away, thankful that Alpha hadn't decided to throw them directly into the oceans of Kamino, but this one was more determined than most.

He winked at you from behind Alpha's head. "By the way, my name is-"

"She doesn't want to know your name," Alpha told him. "Get out of here before I decide that I want to know it."

"Very flattering, Captain," the cadet said cheekily. "But Jango's face isn't the one I want to wake up to, yeah?"

Alpha swallowed his mouthful of food and deliberately set his fork aside, standing slowly from the table. He drew up to his full height before turning around. He was taller than the cadet, forcing the younger man to look up.

"Now I'm extremely interested," Alpha said slowly, his slow and methodical voice dripping with menace. "What's your designation?"

Behind him, you winced. You hated how glaringly obvious it was that the Kaminoans considered these men products. Also, this cadet might die in front of you and that would almost certainly ruin your ability to eat in the cafeteria anymore.

"CT-7115," the cadet said with a grin.

"Ah, part of Zackra Trem's group." Alpha raised his comlink. "Trem."

"Alpha," a female voice returned immediately.

"I've got one of your pilot cadets here in the cafeteria. 7115."

"Broadside," Trem said, clearly recognizing the number. "He's one of my best, Alpha. Don't break him too badly."

"No promises," Alpha replied, turning slightly back toward Broadside. Since you were seated directly behind Alpha, you couldn't see his expression yourself, but it was enough to make Broadside's grin slip for the first time.

"I'll make you a deal," Trem offered. "I'll give him hell here and then send him back to you tonight. I'm sure he could help you demonstrate something unpleasant to your ARCs."

Alpha considered that for a long moment while Broadside shifted uncomfortably. Eventually, he conceded, "That works."

Trem laughed. "Do I even wanna know what he did to you?"

"Harassed an uninterested female."

The laughter emanating from the comlink's speakers cut off abruptly. "In that case, I think we should coordinate punishments. I'll be in touch, Captain."

The transmission cut off suddenly and Alpha looked at Broadside once more. "You had best get to your training, son."

Broadside, looking suddenly concerned, nodded and hurried away. “What was that?” you asked quietly when Alpha had sat down across from you once more.

“I told his superior officer about his behavior.”

“What more than that?” you pressed.

Alpha grinned suddenly, and it was half a snarl. “It just so happens that his superior officer is Zackra Trem. It’s not my story to tell, but she’s got more reason than most to hate that kind of osik behavior.”

You could very well guess the rest of that story. Your heart twisted for Trem, though you had never met her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nice, but she wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment,” Alpha told you, not unkindly. “Feel sorry for your little pilot. She’s a Weequay who ran with Mandalorians for the past few decades. Whatever she makes him do, it won’t be pleasant.”

You chuckled at that, trying not to actually feel sorry for Broadside. In the time you had been hanging around Alpha, most of the cadets had eased up a bit on flirting, but every now and then, someone crossed the line.

Alpha picked his fork up again and shot you an intense look. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Though your immediate instinct was to be embarrassed about being overdressed, even mildly, you rolled your eyes at him. “Anything looks like too much when everyone else wears uniforms all of the time. Remember that day I wore a necklace?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Alpha said, snorting. “A necklace. What are you, a Senator?”

“Your ideas of fancy clothing are extremely skewed, I hope you know that,” you told him, adjusting your collar again.

“Hazards of the job,” Alpha replied with a casual shrug as he returned his focus to his food. “Looks okay, though.”

You paused, staring openly at him. Had Alpha just complimented you? Surely not… The universe wouldn’t survive such unexpected behavior, not without signs that space was collapsing in on itself.

Alpha noticed you watching him and lifted an eyebrow in question while he chewed. You just shook your head and applied yourself to your own lunch, avoiding his curious eyes. Explaining your thought process there would be an intensive effort, especially if your goal was to keep him from being uncomfortable.

Fortunately, avoiding Alpha’s eyes let you notice the approaching cadet sooner than your companion did, and you had time to brace yourself before the young man - even younger than you were used to seeing - opened his mouth.

“Excuse me-”

“Kriff,” Alpha said loudly, dark brows crashing down over his eyes. “Go away, kid. I’ve already ruined one cadet’s day and I have no problem adding to the list. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“N-no, sir, of course not,” the cadet told him, nodding respectfully at you as he went on. “I wanted to talk to you. Is it true you served with General Kenobi?”

"What?" Alpha asked, sounding uncertain for the first time since you had met him. You quirked your brows, unsure of whether to be amused or concerned.

"General Kenobi," the cadet repeated. "And General Skywalker, too! I heard you went on a mission with both of them. What was it like?"

"Look, kid, I don't have time to answer all your questions about Jedi-"

"That's fine!" the cadet told him. "I already know everything there is to know about the Jedi. I want to know more about your experience, specifically."

The muscles in Alpha's jaw flexed and you quickly interrupted. "What's your name?"

"Dogma, ma'am," the cadet told you, making an apologetic face. "I know names are against regulations, but my batchers won't stop calling me that. My designation is CT-4287."

“Nice to meet you, Dogma,” you said politely.

Dogma's cheeks darkened and he gave a tight nod. "You too, ma'am."

"Stop flirting with the poor boy," Alpha chided and you gaped at the captain. So much for trying to help him.

"Dogma, I'm sure Captain Alpha would love to answer any question you have," you told the young cadet, grinning triumphantly at Alpha.

"Wait," Alpha ordered, catching at your wrist before you could stand up. His hand was ridiculously huge and you found yourself shackled by his gentle grip. "You haven't finished eating."

You grinned wider at him, slipping your wrist out from between his fingers. "I'll take it with me. Have fun, you two!"

Dogma gave a half-hearted wave while Alpha glared.

---

The rest of the afternoon was spent locked away in your office, working on the second major project you had to complete. Your concerns about the deadline were unfortunately proving correct. The icy grip of stress and fear were squeezing your heart, and you were honestly relieved when someone knocked on the door of your office.

“One moment!” you called to the unseen visitor, but they didn’t seem to hear you. Instead, they continued to pound on the door until you opened it. You were unsurprised to see Alpha on the other side, glowering down at you.

“You’re mean for a nat-born,” he grumbled, brushing you aside as he pushed into the office.

After letting the door slide closed once more, you followed him over to your desk and plopped down in your chair. Rather than sit in one of the chairs opposite you, Alpha leaned his hip against the side of your desk, much closer than you were comfortable with.

In a show of belligerence, you crossed your arms and lifted your chin as you replied, “Serves you right for being rude about my outfit.”

“I didn’t say anything bad about your clothes!” Alpha denied, befuddled.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say anything nice about them, either,” you argued childishly, conveniently forgetting his half-compliment at lunch.

Alpha frowned. “You want me to… talk about clothing with you?”

Well. Put that way, it did sound a little silly. Of all of the things you were sure Alpha did well, deep discussions about fashion might be beyond him. Honestly, they might be beyond you, too. You sighed. “No, I don’t want you to talk about clothing with me, but I was trying to look nice today. I put a lot of effort into this.”

“I don’t understand why,” Alpha said. “You look… fine… every other day.”

“Fine,” you repeated dryly. “Thanks, I was going for fine.”

“I don’t understand what I did wrong.” You were able to hear the growing frustration in his voice. “What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe don’t act like I’m wearing a ballgown to work if I show up wearing a necklace!”

“What is a ballgown?”

You stared at Alpha, the simple question making your brain screech to a halt. It was like a chasm had opened between you, and it made you reconsider a few things. Since you had arrived on Kamino, you had treated the clone troopers as if they were people you might meet out in the galaxy, but that wasn’t exactly true. You still believed that they were people - of course you did - but you were only just coming to realize how different they were from anyone you had ever met. While the troopers shared their own experiences on Kamino and had been trained to be perfect soldiers by the time they shipped out, they were startlingly young by the standards of the rest of the galaxy.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” You fiddled with one of the many datapads littering your desk rather than meet Alpha’s intense gaze. “I am sorry for siccing Dogma on you, though.”

“You should be,” he growled. “He asked ten questions before I could shake him off. Ten!”

“Wow, that’s what? Five days worth of questions?” you teased.

“Five days for you,” Alpha told you seriously. “For anyone else, that’s more than I would ever answer.”

You were unreasonably touched by the reminder that Alpha let you learn things about him that no one else would ever know. Moved by a sudden surge of warmth for the ARC captain, you repeated your prior sentiment, but more fervently. “In that case, I honestly apologize for unleashing Dogma. If there’s anything I can do to make him back off, please let me know.”

Alpha’s stare was level and unwavering. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” you agreed immediately, not understanding what a wildly stupid idea that was. That was fine - you would learn… and it didn’t take long.

That night at dinner, Alpha came in and sat across from you, but instead of starting the meal in silence, he leaned across the table slightly to get your attention. Lowly, he asked, “Are you still willing to help me with Dogma?”

“Yes,” you agreed simply. “Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah. Flirt with me.”

You fought not to react visibly to that. Carefully keeping your face blank and your voice flat, you replied, “What.”

He leaned even closer, eyes lit with excitement. “I’ve been threatening and trying to alienate Dogma all day, but the only time he was uncomfortable was when you flirted with him.”

“I didn’t flirt with him!” you reminded him. “I just said it was nice to meet him.”

“Fine,” Alpha conceded. “We’ll just have to do better than that if we’re going to convince him to leave me alone.”

Abruptly feeling like this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, you tried to speak in your own defense. “Alpha, I don’t think this is a good idea-”

“You said you would help me,” he reminded firmly. “He’ll be here in a minute. I need your answer.”

Your heart was pounding, one of many warnings that this was a bad idea, but you nodded anyway. Alpha smiled - he actually smiled - and the expression looked menacing on his face. “Good.”

In a moment, he had circled the table to sit beside you, his huge frame making you feel ridiculously tiny in comparison. He wasn't wearing any armor at all now, and you could feel the heat of his skin through what little space there was between you.

You tried not to obviously tense as he spoke next to your ear. "There he is, get ready."

Impossibly, Alpha managed to get closer to you, tugging behind your knee slightly so that you were angled toward him. When he had finished posing you, Alpha’s large hand lifted to cradle your face. His fingers brushed over your cheekbone before trailing down to your jaw.

"My little neverd," he murmured to you, face filled with affection.

You didn't have to feign embarrassment at the warmth in his tone matched with the intense eye contact he was giving you. When you replied, you tried not to sound squeaky but only managed to sound shaky instead. "You know Mando'a is my weakness."

He laughed, a low chuckle that sent delicious chills running over your skin. “Why do you think I use it?”

“Alpha…” you chided, managing to sound mildly flirtatious.

“Come on, little one,” he urged you, voice velvet in a way you hadn’t known it could be. “Let’s go back to your- Ah, one moment, neverd. Dogma, sit down.”

You looked over to see Dogma standing at the other side of the table. You had never even noticed, your entire focus narrowed down to Alpha. Dogma looked as embarrassed as you felt. While you were focused on Dogma, Alpha’s arm snaked around you, pressing against your waist to pull you flush against his side. Your face flamed and Dogma glanced away.

“Sir, I- I’m sorry, I forgot I’m on duty tonight,” Dogma muttered, speaking so quickly it was difficult to understand him.

“Sorry to hear that, cadet,” Alpha replied gravely, flexing his fingers against your side. It made you push a little closer to him in reflex, the tip of your nose brushing the space under his jaw as you tried to look up at him. Alpha shivered, and you weren’t sure how much of the motion was acting. “Maybe later.”

Dogma gave an awkward nod and hurried off.

Alpha started laughing even before he let you go, his muscular chest shaking against your shoulder. After a moment that felt like it had stretched an hour, he pulled his arm back and slid away a bit. You immediately felt the loss of his closeness and suddenly you were horribly uncertain of what expression you were wearing. Just in case it said more than you wanted it to, you looked back at the entrance of the cafeteria.

“I feel bad,” you admitted.

"Don't," Alpha advised, looking toward the door as well. “He’ll be fine. He’s a good soldier, just a little…”

He trailed off, apparently content to let his thought stay incomplete. You glanced over to him with an eyebrow raised, but his eyes were fixed on the door. “You can see every access point in the room from here.”

“That is why I chose this spot,” you agreed.

“Switch with me tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” you refused. “This is my spot.”

“Then I hope you like sitting next to me,” Alpha told you. Surprised, you laughed up at him and he met your eyes. “You know, I’ve never seen anyone blush on cue.”

“Hidden talent,” you explained vaguely. Alpha didn’t seem convinced, so you changed the subject. “What does neverd mean?”

“Civilian.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself. “Civilian? That’s what you used as a term of endearment?”

Alpha blinked blankly at you. “What’s wrong with it? You are a civilian.”

“Yes, but,” you thought over it for a second, “-it’s not very romantic. Usually, people say things like ‘dear’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

“How should I have known that?” Alpha asked.

It was the ballgown situation all over again, and more than you were willing to tackle that day. “Well, some warning before you want me to go undercover would be helpful.”

Alpha snorted. “How much warning do you need?”

You pretended to consider that for a moment. “Two business days, minimum.”

He frowned fiercely. “If you get two full days of warning, I expect more. I need you to show up in a disguise with three different accents ready.”

“Harsh terms,” you told him with a smile. “With those negotiation skills, you’d make a great senator."

Alpha gave you the darkest scowl you had ever seen him muster. “Watch it, neverd.”

Idly, you wondered if Alpha would protect you from himself, but the amused glimmer in his dark eyes told you it would be unnecessary.

---

A/N - Pretty sure Broadside is wildly OOC, my bad. Also, sorry for the weird image for this chapter. I didn't really want the text bubbles in there, but I needed to keep Alpha's sassy hip lean.

Taglist - @imabeautifulbutterfly @cagrame @mysticalturtleenthusiast @marvel-starwars-nerd @lackofhonor

[headcanonsandmore]

For Once

Summary: Hermione and Ron share a tender moment but, as is sadly so often the case, Ron's siblings make it their mission to upset things. Turns out this was one time too many, however.

I always get frustrated when, in fics, Ron's siblings deliberately ruin moments between Ron and Hermione, and recieve no comeuppance for it (even if Ron had suffered yet another hit to his self-esteem) . So here is my response. 

Not bashing but definitely critical of Ginny, Bill, Fred and George, so a warning for that.

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                     Read on FFN.                                        Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Hermione climbed the staircase of the Burrow. She had been here for a few days so far, and she was loving every moment of it, as she always did whenever she was here. Everything from the Devon countryside, to the food, to the sweet redheaded boy that-

Wait, no. All the Weasleys were sweet, Hermione told herself. It wasn’t like the youngest Weasley boy was especially so.

Oh, who was she kidding? She’d stopped believing that her feelings were just platonic well over a year ago.

Anyway, sixth year would be beginning in about a months’ time. Harry had not arrived at the Burrow yet, but he was expected to be picked up by Dumbledore sometime over the next week. Hermione was looking forward to seeing him. Harry was her best friend and, well, he was like a little brother to her as well. Neither of them had any siblings, although at least Hermione was welcome in her own home.

Her brow furrowed as she remembered the last time she had seen Harry’s aunt and uncle. Both of them seemed deeply unpleasant people. Harry had never really spoken about how he had been treated by them growing up, but Hermione could tell that it was far worse than he would ever let on.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she walked straight into someone on the next landing.

‘Oof, you okay, Hermione?’

Hermione felt her face flush slightly. Of course, it had to be that redhead she’d bumped into.

Ron stared down at her, his blue eyes looking slightly concerned. He was carrying several folded sheets, his biceps slightly tensed and looking more-than-just-slightly attractive. His freckles had multiplied due to the summer heat, and Hermione was very aware that they covered him head-to-toe, seemingly even in places she had never seen (except in dreams that made her flush upon waking). Ron had always been cute but, good grief, when had he gotten so… hot?

‘O-oh, yes,’ Hermione replied, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered she was. ‘Sorry, I was… thinking.’

‘Always dangerous,’ Ron said, grinning. ‘But you wouldn’t be Hermione otherwise.’

Hermione smiled, trying to ignore her stomach flipping at his words.

‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘Are those for your mum?’

‘Yeah, she asked for some fresh sheets,’ Ron said, as she followed him back downstairs. ‘What are you up to?’

‘I was actually looking for you,’ she said.

‘What? Why? Did mum say something?’

‘No, Ron,’ Hermione said, nudging him fondly with her elbow as they descended onto a landing. ‘I just happen to enjoy your company and wanted to spend time with you.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

Ron’s mouth slipped into that lopsided smile. The smile that never failed to reduce Hermione to a flustered mess, as much as she tried to hide it. It was a miracle that Ron never seemed to notice.

‘Y-yeah.’

‘Good to know I’m wanted,’ he said, grinning down at her. ‘I was-’

‘DRAT!’

Both of them jumped. Ron turned to where the sound had come from, and opened the door.

Mr Weasley was scrambling around on the floor, trying to retrieve his wand from underneath a chest of drawers. His balding head was bobbing up and down in frustrating.

‘Dad?’ Ron asked. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Oh, hello Ron,’ Mr Weasley said. ‘Sorry to yell; it just dropped out of my hand. Looks like it slipped under her.’

‘No worries,’ Ron said. He placed the sheets he was holding onto the bed, crouched down and, with a flourish, retrieved the missing wand. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks, son,’ Mr Weasley said, as Ron handed his wand over. ‘‘I just reinforcing the charms around the house. I see you’re helping your mother with those sheets?’

‘No worries. Yeah, just finished,’ Ron said. ‘Which charms are you doing?’

‘Oh, just the muggle-repellent ones. I hate putting them up, but it’s important for security.’

‘Dad, if you had your way, you’ve been asking the muggles in the villages for plug-making instruction manuals,’ Ron said, good-naturedly.

‘Well, you did inherit my love for all things muggle, Ron,’ Mr Weasley said, chuckling. ‘Wouldn’t you say?’

Hermione couldn’t help noticing that, at Mr Weasley’s words, Ron’s ears went slightly pink.

Don’t be silly, she sternly told herself, she just means that Ron likes hearing about the muggle way of doing things. He… he doesn’t mean…

‘Anyway,’ Mr Weasley continued. ‘I’m almost finished now. Hermione, I believe Ron said that you’ve been doing extra work about charms during the holidays.’

‘Er, yes, that’s true,’ Hermione said, quickly as she tried to ignore her own confusion. ‘It’s fascinating, isn’t it? I mean, all the different ways that charms can be used to obscure and hide things. I’ve always wondered how long it took for the spells to be standardised…’

She trailed off, as she saw Ron grin.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Ron said, his cheeks dimpling under his freckles. ‘I’m never gonna get sick of seeing you all excited about magic.’

Hermione felt her face flush.

Mr Weasley seemed to smile to himself.

‘Well, like I said, I’m almost finished now,’ he said, raising his wand to the ceiling. He began to utter a spell, and stepped forward.

However, his foot collided with an old teddy bear, and he slipped, stumbling over the end of the spell.

Mr Weasley’s wand shot out of his hand, and fired a spell, which headed straight for Hermione.

‘Hermione, duck!’

Before she knew what was happening, Hermione found herself pushed out of harms way by Ron.

The spell hit Ron squarely in the chest. He gave a gentle groan, and fell backwards on the floor.

‘Ron!’

Mr Weasley had hurried over, and knelt down beside his brother. Hermione dashed forward, and dropped down on Ron’s other side. With thinking, she eased Ron’s head off the floor, so that he was resting on her lap. Ron stirred feebly.

‘Mr Weasley, is… is he okay?’

‘He’ll be fine. Just a little confunded,’ Mr Weasley said, smiling faintly down at Ron. ‘I’m sorry, son. Hermione, It’s best if you stay with him while I go and get the healing supplies from the kitchen.’

‘O-okay,’ Hermione said, suddenly aware that Ron’s head was resting in her lap.

‘Thanks,’ Mr Weasley said, moving to the door. ‘Don’t worry; I doubt Ron will complain. He did take that spell for you, after all.’

With a knowing smile at Hermione’s flustered expression, Mr Weasley left the room.

‘Mione?’ Ron mumbled, his eyes still half-closed. ‘W’happened?’

‘You… you got hit by a confunding spell,’ Hermione replied. ‘Your dad’s gone to get you something for it.’

‘You… you okay?’

Hermione smiled.

‘Ron, you’re the one who got hit by it. Worry about yourself.’

The redhead smiled.

‘So you didn’t get hit…that’s good… glad you’re okay, ‘Mione…’

Hermione felt her heart well, as she stared down at the redhead. His smile was happy and utterly genuine.

‘T-thank you, Ron,’ she whispered. ‘You’re… you’re too good to me.’

‘Naaah,’ Ron mumbled. ‘You’re important… especially to me.’

Hermione smiled, as her heart threatened to burst open. Ron was such a lovely person. No wonder she had fallen so hard.

The door opened, and Hermione looked up. Mr Weasley had returned, carrying a medicine kit. Kneeling down, he pulled out a small vial of potion.

‘Here; it’ll take away his dizziness.’

Hermione nodded, and took the vial. She gently tipped the contents into Ron’s mouth. The redhead swallowed slowly, and he seemed to return somewhat to his senses.

‘There we go,’ Mr Weasley said, as Ron sat up, holding his head. ‘You’ll feel wobbly for a while, so wait until the potion takes full effect before standing up.’

‘R-right,’ Ron said. ‘Dad, can you take those sheets downstairs? I think mum wanted them.’

Mr Weasley nodded, picked up the sheets, gave a brief smile to Ron and Hermione, and then left through the door.

Ron seemed to suddenly realise that his head had been laying in Hermione’s lap.

‘Er, sorry,’ Ron mumbled, his ears going pink. He smiled softly. ‘Thanks for looking after me. Guess I behaved like a right twit, right?’

Hermione opened her mouth, intent on telling Ron that he had been brave and sweet, how much it meant to her that he was so kind, and how much she admired him for it.

‘Yeah, “twit” is right!’

Hermione stopped, her mouth half-open. Her eyes widened in horror as she turned towards the door.

Fred and George had walked into the room, followed by Ginny and Bill. All of them seemed to be snickering to themselves.

‘He got knocked right out! Ickle Ronniekins had to be the big brave knight, didn’t he?’

‘Nevermind, Ron,’ Bill said, chuckling. ‘I’m sure Hermione doesn’t mind you dribbling on her jeans.’

Ron’s ears burned further pink, and his shoulders seemed to slump. The smile on his face had vanished, and now he looked awkward, uncomfortable and -above all- resigned.

‘Er, sorry,’ he said, quietly to Hermione. ‘I… I best go help Mum with the dinner. See you later.’

‘No, Ron,’ Hermione began, frantically. ‘You don’t understand! I…’

‘It’s fine, Hermione,’ Ron said, quietly. ‘You… you don’t need to explain anything.’

Still looking unsteady on his feet, Ron walked out of the room. Hermione thought she heard a sigh as the door closed behind him.

‘Come on, Hermione,’ Ginny said, still chuckling. ‘Wait, he didn’t really dribble on you, did-’

‘What is wrong with you all?!’ Hermione cried. ‘Why can’t you all keep your mouths shut?’

The room went very quiet as Fred, George, Ginny and Bill all stopped laughing to stare at her.

‘He was being brave and kind, like he always is,’ Hermione exclaimed, tears began to streak down her face. ‘And you made him think I was just pitying him! Like he was just being an idiot for being so selfless! How dare you?’

The Weasleys all went silent. Hermione didn’t know where her anger was coming from; it could have been from the years of teasing she had seen Ron be subjected to by his siblings, or the fact that any moment between her and Ron seemed to be constantly ruined by his siblings mocking him, or maybe it was the fact that she couldn’t begin to fully explain to Ron just how much she adored him.  All she knew was that she could stay silent no longer. This was one time too many.

‘I’m sick of this! He’s your brother; he’s kind, and sweet, and brave. More than you could ever imagine, and yet you all treat him like he can’t do anything right!’

Her body wracked with sobs, Hermione slammed the door behind her, and stormed upstairs to the room she was sharing with Ginny.

She could distantly hear the sounds of a returning Mr Weasley asking his remaining children why Ron had gone before the potion had taken full effect, and of the other Weasleys stumbling through their explanations.

Good luck trying to explain that to your consciences, Hermione thought, bitterly, as she closed the bedroom door behind her. She sank into the mattress; angry, frustrated but most of all devastated that, no matter how much she adored Ron, it seemed like all of his siblings seemed to act like he could never be anything other than an object of mockery and pity. A clown. A twit who only ever made pratfalls and embarrass his friends.

Or, at least, Ron certainly wouldn’t think they saw him as anything more than that. And that was possibly the worst thing about it.

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Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

[sweeethinny]

Emerald Eyes

Summary: After Lily Evans kisses him, James needs help to figure out what to do in that situation. And who better to help him and Sirius with relationship issues if not his dad?

Notes: I was reading @startanewdream's fanfic Exist Song (For Film) when she wrote about a song that spoke of emerald eyes.

I remembered the song Claudia by Finneas, and needed to write about Jily's first kiss, and somehow get Fleamont involved.

I don't think I've ever read a fanfic where he helps James and Sirius with relationship issues, so I wrote it! I know James only becomes prefect in seventh year, but I needed him to become sixth, to make sense of the story.

sue me

AO3

-------

James was fine about just being friends with Lily, really, he was up for it and he liked being friends with her. Of course, he still thought about kissing her and, dammit, sometimes dreamed of her with her clothes off and couldn't look her in the eye for the next three days. But overall, he was fine with his old crush.

Everything was fine, it was just a crush, he would get over it.

He liked other girls over the last few years, liked hanging out with them, kissing them, and there was one muggle girl that James really thought was going to be something more serious - he even lost his virginity to her. But things didn't go as it should and life went on. Sirius comforted him that his crush on Lily was probably because he idealized her in a way that it was now difficult for him to like other girls, but that James needed to let go of the 'what ifs' and move on.

James tried, he swears he did.

But when Lily Evans kissed him on the train back to King Cross, after a prefect meeting where James was trying not to sleep, things completely fell apart for him.

When he got back to his friends, James felt very lost, and Remus even asked if he was alright, but all James could do was nod and touch his lips in fear that the feeling of Evans' soft, sweet lips would go away and he realized it was a dream.

As much as he had dreamed very hot things about Lily, they never kissed, so James wasn't prepared for it at all, he was just imagining it was supposed to be good. But it wasn't just good, it was stupidly good.

So good that he spent all the traveling hours remembering. And when they arrived at the station, he could only think of meeting Lily to say that he thought he was in love. Was this possible?

"Mate?" Sirius asked, following him out of the wagon. '’Did something happen at the meeting?'’

"No, I-" James saw her, which automatically made him forget all the words his parents had taught him, suddenly his brain shutting down and only caring about one thing; Lily Evans.

James didn't know what to do, if he was going to talk to her or not, if he waved, if he called her, if he shouted for everyone to hear that she kissed him… James wanted there to be a manual on how to deal with this situation, because he felt so lost and it was stupid.

There was no time to do anything however, the students were hurrying to leave and pushed James who had been standing in the middle of the corridor, while Lily blushed and smiled awkwardly, giving the boys a wave and then getting off the train.

Should that mean something? Why didn't she talk to him?!

''Come on James, I want to go home.'' Peter complained, making him wake up from his reverie and follow them outside, knowing Sirius was watching him with the eyes of an eagle, and that probably Remus too, but very more discreet.

After they said their goodbyes and headed off to find his parents, Sirius whispered, never bending over or making it sound like he was whispering, "You kissed her, didn't you?"

"She did it." James swallowed, still completely shocked. "Best kiss of my life, I must say."

"Fuck, James." Sirius shook his head, walking faster and accepting Euphemia's hug as James greeted his dad with a longing hug.

"Are you two okay?" Monti asked, a hand in James' hair and an all-too-knowing look that made him think his dad had heard, by some miracle, what Sirius had said. Fleamont always seemed to know everything.

"Yes, perfect." Sirius smiled. ‘’Right, James?’’

‘’Yes, more perfect than this impossible.’’

[...]

That night, after Euphemia left for the annual florist dinner she always went to, Fleamont called James and Sirius down to the dungeons, where he had finished brewing another beer. James knew his dad wasn't an idiot and he knew the two of them had already been drinking in hiding there on several occasions, but he liked that they were now considered old enough to be able to go there without having to dodge.

"So, how were things at school this year?" his dad asked, pouring some beer into each of their glasses, sitting on the wooden bench he and Sirius had helped to assemble last summer. "Any news?" Fleamont lingered at James, but then smiled at Sirius and glared at him too.

"Yeah, I think I'm liking someone," Sirius said, and then looked at the glass of beer in front of him on the pine table.

''You think? How can this be? Either you are, or you aren't.” Fleamont didn't seem to judge him, that gentle smile that had James spilling so much of his secrets over the past few years to his dad for help.

"She's a little complicated," Sirius ran a hand through his hair, taking a sip of his beer. ‘’ She says she doesn't want anything, but then she gets mad when I talk to another girl? I don't know, I like her, I just don't know how… you know?’’

"No." James didn't know how Sirius still hadn't learned to never do that to his dad. Fleamont would never say what he thought you meant, even if he was sure what it was, he would always make you talk.

‘’How to tell her.’’ It was funny and almost frightening how Sirius looked like someone else when he arrived at his house. There he didn't have to pretend anything or be an asshole to draw attention, his parents were always willing to listen to him, just like they did with James and that's probably why he always seemed very comfortable telling things to Fleamont, like now.

"Well, I think you two are friends at least?" Sirius nodded. ‘’So, be honest with her. What do you have to lose?''

‘’Her friendship? Humiliate me? Do you hate me, Monti?’’

"Sirius, don't talk like that," Fleamont stood up, a little slower than he used to when James was younger, but still quick for a man of nearly sixty. "When I told Mia I liked her," He floated a pot of potato chips off the top of one of the cupboards, like he did after James had behaved himself and helped him clean the yard. ‘’I felt like I might pass out at any moment, I was in a cold sweat… We were in front of her house, at night, after I took her on a date,’’

''I hope you were respectful Monti, I don't want to be disappointed in you when I found out you took her to a dodgy bar.'' Sirius joked, making James laugh along with him, knowing he'd just done it to make himself feel less nervous.

Sirius did this whenever someone was paying attention to him and actually treating him as an equal, James had noticed this over the years.

"Of course not, we went to a fair near her house," Fleamont sat back down, putting a portion of the potatoes into a smaller pot. ''Anyway, at the end of the night, I knew I needed to tell her that I loved her, which today I think was a silly thing, because I didn't even know what love was yet,'' He shrugged, a smile on his face. "I was young and Mia was, and still is, the most beautiful woman I've ever met, I felt I couldn't let her go without knowing it."

"She said she liked you too?" James asked, and for the first time he was interested in that story. His dad looked at him with that look that said he knew exactly why James was paying attention, but he didn't say anything.

"No, and it made me very angry and humiliated." He glanced at Sirius, who raised his eyebrows as if proving a point. ''But I wasn't fair to her, Mia was just being truthful, but I was too young to understand that sometimes things just don't happen at the right time... A few weeks later, I met her at a family dinner and we talked, and she said she didn't love me, but she liked me.'' He shrugged. "I think she loves me these days, I mean we're married and we have a family." Sirius chuckled.

"How did you know she was the right one?" James asked, looking at his half-finished beer. "I mean, let's assume," Monti nodded, paying attention to what he said as if it were the most interesting thing. ‘’If you had dated other people and so did she, how would you know she was the right person?’’

“Hm… wouldn't know, son.” Fleamont shrugged, pouring himself more beer. ‘’And I didn't know then either. Just happened.''

"I asked Hestia out," Sirius admitted, and not even James knew it, so he turned his head to his friend with an almost incriminating look, but it was gone as soon as he saw the annoyed smile on his lips. ‘’But she didn't want to go, so… I guess she's ashamed of me? I don't know, she's really smart and a good girl, I don't think she wants to be seen with a guy like me.”

“A guy like you?” Fleamont grabbed some chips.

"Monti, no need to pretend you don't know," Sirius rolled his eyes. "I don't have a good family, and you've had to sign a lot of letters because of my detentions."

‘’Hm… yeah, you're right about the detentions, but the family? Sirius, you are not a reflection of your parents' mistakes. Maybe she doesn't want to go out with you right now, and maybe, most likely, you aren't even the problem at all. Who can guarantee us that she… Hestia, right? That Hestia isn't going through a difficult time where she doesn't really know how to deal with this sort of thing, and just needs some time? You're not always the villain in the story, son, actually you never were.'' Sirius looked like he wanted to deny it, James noticed how his brow furrowed, but it eased as Fleamont pushed the pot of chips towards him, a fatherly smile at the lips that seemed to make Sirius' beast fall back to the ground like a trained dog.

James thought of Lily, the things he'd witnessed over the past few months and how she seemed to be dealing with a lot more than that these past few days. He still remembered how sad she looked when she read a letter that had come to her from her mum. James didn't ask what was written, of course, but he tried to make her smile for the rest of the day and during their patrol, hating that her brow was so furrowed.

The war was getting worse, a lot of people were dying, and the mini death eaters were really putting into practice what they had been learning in the last few years. It was frustrating, to say the least, that Dumbledore did nothing to stop sixteen-year-olds from getting their arms marked by Voldemort.

He wished he could help her, not just because now that spark of feeling inside his chest had become a scorch of acres and would leave a huge footprint inside him, but because James really cared about her before anything else.

"Dad, um…" James began, not quite sure how to speak, or what. ‘’Can we install a muggle phone?’’

"Of course," Fleamont smiled, just as he had smiled at Sirius. ‘’And you son, how was school?’’

‘’Well, I… Nothing too important but… it was a good year. There haven't been a lot of detentions this year, so I think it's a win.” He joked, just because it was a little weird talking about it with his dad.

"But he wanted to be dating," Sirius nudged, pouring more beer into his glass.

“Oh, is that that muggle girl?” Fleamont at least looked away, spending more time than necessary picking out some chips to eat. James mentally thanked him.

"No, and Sirius doesn't know what he's talking about." James rolled his eyes, wanting to push him off the stool. ‘’I decided that this year I will dedicate myself to studies.’’

"Oh James, you don't have to lie to your old man so much like that, it's okay, your mum isn't here so come on, tell me, what can I help you with?"

"It's her again, Monti," Sirius reveals, as if he doesn't say much.

James wanted to kill him now.

‘’Evans? Oh, son, are we still in it? When will I meet her? I'm starting to imagine you guys invented her because it's been almost five years since I first heard her name and never saw her.” Sirius and his dad laugh together, watching James blush like a fool. ‘’What happened this time? I thought you had raised a white flag for her… Is it because of her that you want to install the phone?’’

‘’It's just… She has family issues, and I think she's going to be alone this vacation since Marlene has traveled and Hestia too, so… I just thought about trying to call her. She gave me her phone number before classes ended, and I think it might cheer her up, I don't know, we're friends and I don't want to-’’

‘’Mate, you kissed her today, what kind of friendship is this?’’

''I wasn't the one who kissed her, she was the one who came at me, and for Merlin's sake, can't you shut up?!'' Fleamont doesn't intervene in the boys' discussion, seeming to enjoy it, and James almost took back everything he said and ran to his room to hide under the covers, but his dad seemed to notice this and became serious again.

"James," he said, in a warning tone but still with the shadow of a smile on his face. "It's kind of you to worry about her like that, anyway, but I think Sirius is right, I don't believe there are friendships where people kiss."

‘'She didn't even talk to me about it later, she just… ran away, leaving me alone. I don't think she even wanted to do that or I’m a bad kisser.'’

‘’It is a possibility, for sure,’’

"Even more if we think you ate that plum candy before the meeting, which smells disgusting." Sirius grimaced.

"But, you even said, she's having problems at home, and like I told Sirius, it's not all about you. She probably doesn't know what to do or say either, and is afraid of ruining the friendship… The best thing to do is ask her what it means, but knowing that maybe the answer will hurt you. It's a risk you take.” James nodded, looking at the beer kegs near the wall, and then down to his own glass again. "We'll install the phone and you'll call her, maybe that doesn't encourage Sirius to be less fearful and send Hestia a letter." Fleamont smiled. "There's nothing to lose, for either of you, just tell them how you feel."

''Haha! He would die before he did that, you know what he did last month?’’ James grinned vengefully, dodging Sirius' hand that tried to cover his mouth as his dad laughed at them both.

[...]

''OK.''

"Potter, just do it."

"Padfoot, what if she curses me-"

''She is not going.''

‘’ But she can. ’’

‘’Call her for fucking sake!’’

"Quiet or my mum will listen, and she doesn't need to know we can swear." James took a deep breath, the crumpled paper in his hands trembling as he noted the number written there, then looked at the buttons on the phone.

The man who came to install it had explained to them how it worked, but James was so nervous he'd forgotten all about it.

"Just dial!" Sirius cried for the umpteenth time, sitting beside him in the armchair, a Muggle magazine in his hands.

"Mum will kill you if she sees this." James pointed at the five women in bikinis, in very indecent positions for a rock magazine.

''Shut up Potter, and call her or I'll do it.'’ James huffed, rolling his eyes and looking at the numbers again.

Okay, he could do that.

Yes, just do it, James.

"Hello?" Evans' sweet voice sounded from the other end, it didn't sound much like her, it was a little more harsh and hurt than James used to hear, but it was definitely her. He tried to picture her by the phone, probably wearing a T-shirt from some muggle band he didn't know but would try to learn about just to impress her.

"Hello… Lily?"

“James?” Her voice radiated happiness then, as if she were grinning from ear to ear. His stomach turned over. ''Is that you?''

"Yes, yes it's me." Sirius chuckled softly, patting him on the shoulder and walking out of the room, probably so James would feel more comfortable being a lovesick fool. ''How are you?''

‘’I'm fine, I… how did you call me? Did you buy a phone?

"It was something my dad had wanted for a long time, so it was pretty easy to convince him." James grinned. “I just called to…um…just to say I like you, Evans. I really like it, and maybe you don't feel that way, and I know things aren't easy, but I really care about you, and if you don't… like me, that's fine, I'll understand. But ever since you kissed me I… I keep thinking about you, and I keep thinking about kissing you again, so I called just to tell you that… I like you a lot, Lily.'' James took a deep breath, feeling as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders.

Lily took a while to speak, which made him a little, very, nervous, and James even considered hanging up the phone and never using it again, but he remembered what his dad had said about listening to what she had to say and not rush.

"I…I like you too, James." He could hear her smile, even though her voice was a little quieter now. "I can't stop thinking about you and our kiss, either." His cheeks would tear. ‘’And… would you like to go out with me? For a date?’’

"Evans, I think if you asked me to jump off a bridge right now, I would." She laughed, one of the most beautiful sounds James had ever heard in his life. ''Yes I do.''

‘’Great, I… I need to turn it off now because Petunia is taking a shower and if I take too long the water will be cold and she won't leave me alone anymore, but-’’

"I'll call you later," James said before she even asked. He didn't lie when he said he would do anything for her, and if that meant talking to her on the phone overnight, he would. It was so much better than a letter, it took less time, and there was also the fact that he could hear her voice. It couldn't be better. "See you later, Lily."

"See you, James."

[firstofficerwiggles]

Sending a Message

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: T, there are sexy situations, i.e. touching, but no actual sex, one use of the f-word, but mostly fluff and some longing

Summary: Basically, you and Din are in a cantina and you need his help to get men to stop hitting on you. You have an established friendship with him but neither of you have expressed your true *romantic* feelings. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2900ish

Author’s note: I love fanfiction and have been reading it for a looong time now, but I finally decided to take the plunge and write one myself. What can I say? Din is very inspiring. It’s very self-indugent and I hope you like it. 

I wrote a Part 2 to this story (18+ version) (T version)

 --------------------------------------------------------------

The child is a sticky mess having eaten his way through a bag of ripe berries as you were trying to keep him occupied so the Mandalorian could suss out information for others of his kind who might know where to find the Jedi.

It’s been roughly three months since you joined the Mandalorian’s crew to help out with the child. You were enamored with the sweet little green baby the moment you saw him with Din in that marketplace back on Tatooine. Stressed and exhausted, Din let you pick up the child and entertain him while he loaded supplies on to a cart. You accompanied the two of them around on the rest of their errands that day, offering helpful advice and somehow gaining the Mandalorian’s trust fast enough to have him offer you a job as the child’s caretaker by the end of the day. You surprised yourself with how quickly you agreed to the arrangement, but in the end, you knew there was nothing left for you on Tatooine but memories and an empty house.

So now here you were, fairly content with your role as nanny to the child, although not quite prepared for how risky travelling with the Mandalorian could be. There were days when you could not believe the situations you found yourself in, yet through it all, you knew you had made the right decision. This was largely in part to the Mandalorian himself. There was just something so undeniably compelling about him. He was an execptional hunter and frankly, a deadly assassin, but he always seemed willing to put his violent skills towards a good cause, no matter how hopeless it may have seemed. But yet, no matter how lethal he could be, he was also so heartbreakingly soft and gentle with his small son, demonstrating a fierce protectiveness that had spread to you too. At first, the Mandalorian wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but little by little, you had begun to get to know him and had fallen into an easy friendship of sorts with him. All well and good, but, the more you knew about him, the more you started to feel an attraction to him. It started slow, and you played it off as just a weakness for his handsome armor and, let’s be honest, his strong, fit physique underneath all that beskar. But then, he started to share small jokes with you, ask you more about yourself, and reveal details about his own life, including his name, Din Djarin. After that, you really couldn’t deny your feelings, but you kept them to yourself not wanting to upset the contented balance you had achieved nor wanting to put him in the uncomfortable position of having to turn you down. Still though, the longing was there, even when you tried to distract yourself.

“Wow, look at you! I think we have a new record, kiddo.” Din has made his way back to you and is gently teasing his son. He scoops him up into his arms and the child coos with glee but also puts his berry-smeared hands all over his father’s shiny armor.

“Oh no! I thought I’d have a chance to clean him up before you returned.” You apologize a little embarassed.

“It’s not a big deal; we’ll take care of it.” Din has accepted the messiness of fatherhood in stride, “Let’s head over to that cantina. We’ll get cleaned up and you two can get some food while we’re there.”

As Din heads to the back of the cantina in search of a fresher to deal with the berry mess, you spy two seats at the bar and carefully make your way through the crowd. Several people, mostly men it seems, smile widely at you as you pass. It’s packed in here, but the warmth of so many bodies together is welcome after the blustery wind that had picked up outside. You shed your heavy cloak and drape it over the back of one of the barstools both so you can save the seat for Din and, you think eagerly, give him the chance to see the pretty dress you decided to wear today. It’s one of your favorites but he hasn’t seen it yet, however, with the cooler weather on this planet you were beginning to think you wouldn’t get a chance to show it off. Not that you should be thinking like that, you roll your eyes at yourself and your silly crush on the stoic Mandalorian. You’re just getting yourself settled at the bar when the bartender places a brightly colored drink in front of you. Confused you say, “I haven’t ordered yet.” as he just points behind you to a burly looking man with a scruffy beard. The man is grinning confidently at you,

“My treat, pretty lady! We rarely get strangers like you in here!”

“Thank you,” you demure, “but I really can’t accept.”

“Nonsense! You go ahead and enjoy and then we can get to know each other.” He winks at you.

“Maybe she’d prefer one of these,” another man has sauntered over, this one a lanky man with a bottle of something in his hand, “I think she might prefer something with more of a bite to it.” His entendre not lost on you, you hold up your hand and shake your head to fend him off when yet a third man tries to get your attention,

“Don’t let these bozos tell you what you want; I’ll get you whatever your heart desires!”

“I can buy my own drink, thanks,” you cut him off, turn back to the bartender, and manage to order your own drink and some food for you and the child, but this last guy is persistent and sleezy, coming over and perching himself on the barstool you were saving for Din. “Hey, I’m saving that for my…” what should you call him? “friend,” you finish lamely.

“Well, no problem, I’m looking forward to meeting her too.” he waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively. Giving him a sarcastic glare, you retort, “I don’t think he’d be interested.”

Things are starting to get out of hand, but thankfully, Din has spotted you amongst your crowd of admirers and with a small, rather amused tilt of his helmet and a bit of a shove, he’s now by your side with the child cooing happily from his satchel. “How about a booth?” he suggests, and you swear you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Great idea” you reply, hopping down from your stool and snatching your cloak back from the other one.

“Oh c’mon baby, that tin can can’t make you happy like I can” the guy who rudely stole Din’s seat calls after you. Your face erupts in a blush and you hope to hell that Din didn’t hear him amidst the noise of the cantina. The other men voice their frustrations too at your departure. You put your hand on Din’s bicep steering him away from these guys just in case. You don’t need Din starting a bar fight over you. You’re still holding his arm and following Din closely when yet another man comes up to you,

“This Mandalorian isn’t bothering you, baby, is he?” this idiot dares to ask.

“No. He is not.” you grit out as Din says, “She’s fine.” in his best don’t-fuck-with-me voice. It’s lost on this drunk fool though as he just lets out “Woo hoo! She sure is!” and tries to slap your ass, but thankfully you dodge him just in time.

You’re starting to doubt the wisdom in coming into this cantina but now that you’re making it to a booth with Din, you figure you should be all right. The booth has a curved seat following the shape of its round table and as Din places the child in the middle of the seat, he sits down to his right. You slide into your side of the booth opposite Din but before you can get fully seated, a man from the booth right behind you leans over, grabs your wrist and leeringly says, “I got a much better seat for you, mama.” and gestures to his crotch. Repulsed, you slap his hand away and head over to Din’s side of the table. That creep was disgusting but he did give you an idea.

“Will you do me a huge favor?” you ask Din, “Always” he replies instantly. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you climb into his lap while sliding one arm around his neck and then bringing your other hand to rest on his cuirass. You can sense his surprise, yet his arm wraps around your waist instinctively.

“Play along, please?” you whisper to him.

“What are you doing, exactly?” he wants to know.

“Sending a message.” You tuck your head in closer to his in a clearly affectionate way and place a kiss on his helmet where his cheek would be.

“What message would that be?” Din asks still a bit stunned by your actions.

“That I’m yours.” You pause as he absorbs this and then you tell him quietly, “I need you to be a little handsy.”

“Handsy?” he tilts his helmet at you “This feels like a trap.”

“No, I want you to. Be handsy.” You tell him again.

“Ok” he drawls out, “but don’t punch me.”

“I won’t.” You flutter your lashes at him to give the impression to this room of horny strangers that you’re flirting with Din.

Din gives a tiny shrug that you can feel more than see but then brings his free hand up to your face. His gloved hand slowly strokes your cheek as he then lets his fingers trace over your jaw and then down your neck and chest, slowing down even more as he reaches your cleavage and then just gently ghosts his fingers between your breasts before resting his hand just beneath them. You feel your breath hitch and get caught in your throat at the intimacy of his touch and you have to remind yourself that this is just for show, just to get these losers to stop hitting on you. Reminding yourself of the message you want to send, you wonder if this is too subtle. You need to make this definitive.

“Be a little more obvious,” you tell Din, the blush returning to your cheeks, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

“More?” Din tries to confirm, “What do you have in mind?”

“Put your hand up my skirt.”

“Ok, now that is definitely a trap.” he chuckles lightly.

“Do it. Put your hand up my skirt,” you practically demand.

“Well, I’m not going to say no to that,” he responds appearing to be amused by this whole situation. He takes his hand, starts to play with the hem of your dress, and then slowly starts to slide his hand up your thigh under your skirt kneading gently as he goes. You feel like you are dying, it is so sensual and so exactly what you have been dreaming of for weeks now. You knew he would be good at this and it’s killing you that it’s just an act. You squirm a little in his lap unable to help yourself and you think you can feel his own arousal, but you tell yourself you must be imagining it.

Din cannot believe this is happening, how is he this lucky? When he caught sight of the men hitting on you at the bar, he figured it was inevitable that you’d be surrounded by would-be suitors and he cursed himself for leaving you alone in a place like this even for a few minutes. A quick scan of the room showed him that you were absolutely the most beautiful woman there. Not that he was surprised, as he’s rarely seen anyone as stunningly gorgeous as you in his opinion. Plus, given this sexy dress you have on, he’s lucky he didn’t have to pry one of them off you. He noticed it right away before you left the ship earlier and had to put on your cloak, but he was hoping to keep that sight to himself. He knows he shouldn’t think of you that way, but he has given up trying to ignore his feelings for you. It’s not just your beauty, but who you are as a person. He’s never met anyone who’s so easy to talk to and who treats him with such respect and kindness. It shocks him how strongly he trusts you and the way he’s let down his guard around you. You might not realize it but you are the best friend he’s ever had, and although he wants more, he’s not quite ready to risk your friendship. If he messes this up, you might see him as just another jerk hitting on you.

Speaking of, Din figured his intimidating presence would keep the jerks away once he got back over to you, but these fools had clearly never met a Mandalorian before because they didn’t have the good sense to leave you alone even when he was standing right next to you. He had been sure he was going to have to punch the creep that grabbed you but then you were sitting in his lap before he had a chance to stand up and defend you. And now, now, he was cuddling with you in the middle of this crowded cantina, touching you in ways he hadn’t let himself dare to think about. He didn’t need the child’s powers to feel the waves of sheer envy coming off of the men in the room. He smirked to himself under his helmet, letting his hand slide up even higher on your thigh than he would have dared but just because he could.

You are becoming entirely swept away by Din’s ministrations on your thigh, and you hear yourself sighing his name, making him smile even more unbeknownst to you.

“Hmm?” he responds gently

“I--,” but you’re cut off by the waiter finally bringing the food.

“Here’s your order, sir” the waiter gives Din a look that is both impressed and jealous as you hide your face in Din’s neck mortified that you have gotten so carried away with this charade.

“Thanks.” Din tells him, slowly removing his hand from under your dress. You slide off his lap into the booth next to him so you can eat. Din keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders though and you’re still pressed up against his side. You turn away slightly towards the child who has been amusing himself somehow all this time. You give yourself a chance to regain your composure as you focus on giving him some food. You had started to forget the kid was even there and you feel your face flushing again at your shameless behavior. You take a deep breath and remind yourself that this was necessary, and as you glance around the cantina, you can see that no one is paying attention to you anymore. Your message was clearly received. You sigh to yourself and start to eat your dinner.

Din is relaxed and is enjoying the feel of his arm around you. Every so often, his other hand finds its way to your forearm and brushes over your wrist and hand, not quite trying to holding your hand but almost just to remind you that he’s there. It’s flirtatious and romantic in a way that you both love and can’t stand because you know you just want him to keep doing it. You finish your food slowly trying to find a way to prolong this interlude as much as you can, even if it’s not real. Din notices when you’re done though and says, “Ready to head back to the Crest?” You nod at him, knowing it��s for the best and figuring he must be hungry too. You pick up the child and slide out of the booth following Din. He takes the baby from you and secures him in his satchel before reaching back to take your hand. Din threads his fingers through yours and leads you out of the cantina before the jealous eyes of all the other men who tried to claim you for their own earlier. He holds your hand all the way back to the ship and you let yourself bask in the moment, imagining the two of you as a real couple.

Once you’re back on the ship, you busy yourself with putting the child to bed. He’s already drowsy and practically asleep when you get him secure in his hammock. When you turn back around, Din is just watching you, standing there. You can’t imagine what he’s thinking. You suppose you should give him some privacy, let him have a chance to eat his own dinner, but before you do, you figure you ought to say something after all that.

“Thank you, for doing… for helping me out,” you feel rather flustered and it’s making you babble, “back there.” “I just couldn’t get those guys to bug off.”

“It was my pleasure,” he responds rather cheekily, “I figured I was going to get into a bar brawl, but I liked your idea a hell of a lot better.” He tilts his helmet at you and you can swear that you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, thank you, again” you say softly. He steps closer to you and you’re practically touching him as he looks down at you and says with a chuckle, “Any time you need me to feel you up again, just let me know.”

And before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “I will.”

He laughs and tips his head down to you, “Message received.”

---------------------------------------------------------

[rookie-ramsey]

Baby Blues, Finale (Bryce X MC)

Description: Bryce and MC can handle just about anything. Hopefully, pregnancy and parenting fall into the “just about anything” category.

Preview: The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now-” 

Bryce didn’t let him finish. He looped his arms around Emily’s waist and kissed her with an intensity that sent her heart soaring. She flung her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss as his arms tightened around her, lifting her feet from the floor.

(Note: It’s here... the LAST chapter. It’s a long one, so buckle in!)

Previous Chapter

“Come on, say Dada!”

From her high chair, Ava stared at her parents. She pursed her lips together and squealed, digging her tiny hand into her bowl of mashed potatoes.

Emily shook her head. “No, don’t listen to him. Say Mama.”

“No. Dada.” Bryce leaned closer to their daughter, who gurgled in amusement at the pleading in his voice. “Dada…. Da… da…”

“Bryce, you sound like a baby now.” Emily rolled her eyes and ate a bite of her dinner.

“She needs to say Dada first or I owe Elijah and Jackie twenty bucks!”

“You made bets about her first word, too? Because I’m gonna owe Sienna and Kyra if she doesn’t say Mama first!”

Bryce laughed. “This might be a problem.”

“Let’s spice it up a bit. Whoever loses has to do diaper duty exclusively for two days”

“That’s gonna be a stinky weekend for you.” Bryce grinned. “You’re on.”

He returned his attention to Ava, who was finishing her potatoes, getting more of them on her clothes than in her mouth. The infant pursed her lips and blew a raspberry, seemingly taunting him.

“Hey, that’s not nice. Say Dada. Please? I’ll pay you money.”

Keiki rolled her eyes. “Yeah, because a ten month old will do anything for a few bucks.”

Pleased with the amount of attention on her, Ava squealed and threw her arms out, sending her plastic dishes flying across the kitchen. Bryce left his seat to pick up the mess, sending Ava into a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s so funny seeing Dada clean up stuff you throw, isn’t it?”

Ava kicked her feet and squirmed in the high chair, laughing as if watching her father pick up her dishes was the highest form of comedy she’d ever seen.

“Ava, since Dada’s busy cleaning up after you, why don’t you say Mama?” Emily urged.

Her daughter clapped her hands and babbled, clearly amused by her parents’ desperation.

“This kid cracks me up.” Keiki smirked and freed her niece from the restraints of her high chair. “Do you want Aunt Keiki to show you new ways to bug Bryce?”

The baby squealed, kicking her bare feet and squirming. “Keiki!”

Bryce’s jaw dropped. He gaped for several seconds as his sister and daughter stared at him with similar expressions of mischief and surprise. “Did she just…?”

Emily stifled a snicker. “I think she just did, babe. We both lost.”

“But how? I’ve been begging her for days and she refused. Keiki says her own name once and Ava just repeats it without any problem?” Bewildered, Bryce shook his head. Despite himself, he couldn’t resist an amused grin.

Emily watched as Ava crawled around the kitchen. “Just think. She’ll be walking by the wedding.”

“I know.” At the mention of the wedding, Bryce’s smile widened. “Three months. Can’t we just reschedule the wedding to tomorrow?”

“I don’t think the guests would appreciate that last minute change.”

“So?”

Emily laughed and leaned up, kissing his cheek. “Patience.”

XXXXXX

Despite Bryce’s impatience, the remaining weeks of wedding planning soared past them. Before they knew it, it was February morning and they found themselves at the wedding venue, with minutes ticking down until they would say their vows.

In the dressing room, Emily fidgeted in front of the mirror as Sienna helped her fasten the back of her dress. “I can’t believe it’s finally here…. Just a few minutes!”

Sienna finished tying the sash and stepped back. “Are you nervous?”

“Maybe a little.” Emily adjusted her veil and combed her fingers through her hair. Ava toddled around the room in her shoes and diaper, trying to escape Emily’s mother and the dress she was trying to dress her in.

Finally Allison caught Ava and managed to slip the lavender dress over her head. “Do you think your flower girl is ready?”

“She did okay at rehearsal once we showed her how to go down the aisle.” Emily fastened a little bow in Ava’s hair, to the infant’s distaste.

“Let me look at you.” Allison gripped Emily’s shoulders and looked her up and down, her face softening. “This reminds me of when you were little and you would wear your bed sheets to play wedding.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed as her friends giggled. “Mom!”

“I’m just teasing you. You look beautiful, sweetie.” Her mom hugged her for a long moment. Emily hugged her back and looked up when there was a knock on the door. Emily called out permission to walk in, and a moment later her dad stepped into the room.

“Ready, Em?”

“I think so.” Emily nodded and took a deep breath, taking her father’s arm and following her wedding party out of the room.

At the altar, Bryce’s heart raced with a nervousness he’d never felt before. The pianist started playing a soft, sweet tune, indicating the start of the ceremony.

A wide grin formed on his face when he saw Ava standing at the end of the aisle, her little hands clutching a basket of flower petals. Sienna gave the baby a gentle nudge. Ava toddled forward, throwing fistfuls of flower petals all around her as she approached the aisle.

She stumbled in her tiny dress shoes, spilling the flower petals. Unbothered, she uprighted herself and made her way down the aisle. When she reached the end, she toddled to Bryce and held her arms up.

“Dada!”

The audience laughed. Chuckling, Bryce leaned over and picked up his daughter, hugging her and giving her a kiss on the forehead. He settled her on his hip as the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their way down the aisle.

Bryce didn’t think it was possible for his heart to beat faster, but it nearly jumped from his chest when the music changed and Emily appeared at the archway. His breath hitched in his throat as he took her in, his smile growing a little with each step she took closer to the altar.

“Mama!” Ava squealed.

“Mama looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” he whispered, gently hugging her.

He passed Ava to Emily’s mom and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms against his pants. By the time Emily and her father reached the altar, Bryce was almost certain his face would split in two if he smiled any wider.

Emily slipped her hands into Bryce’s, her eyes glistening as she gazed up at him. It took everything in Bryce not to swoop in and kiss her right then, and he may very well have had the officiant not started.

The officiant began reading, bringing their audience to a silence. “Welcome, family and friends. We gather here today to celebrate the wedding of Emily Harmon and Bryce Lahela. You have come here to offer your love and support to this union so that they may start their married life together surrounded by the people most important to them.”

Bryce’s grip tightened on Emily’s hands as the officiant finished the introduction, then turned his attention to Bryce.

“Do you, Bryce Lahela, take this woman to be your wedded wife?”

The words rolled off his tongue immediately. “I do!”

Everyone tried not to laugh at the urgency in his tone, but several giggles escaped. Once quiet fell again, the officiant turned to Emily.

“And do you, Emily Harmon, take this man to be your wedded husband?”

“I do.” She laced her fingers through Bryce’s, never taking her eyes off of him.

“You may now recite your vows. May I have the rings?”

Rafael and Sienna passed the rings to Bryce and Emily. Bryce held the ring tightly and slipped it onto Emily’s finger, nestling it against her engagement ring. He spoke up, his voice strong as he recited the vows he’d spent weeks memorizing.

“I give you this ring as a promise to always love you as much as I have since we first met. I know love at first sight is a cliche, but it’s true. I promise to always love you, respect you, and be the best husband and father I can be. I also promise to always support you, be there for you, and still find silly, healthy ways to compete with you. Always.”

Emily laughed softly at the last part, her eyes misting as she began reciting her own vows. She slipped the ring onto Bryce’s finger and started reciting. “With this ring, I promise to always love and cherish you. I’ll never forget the love and support you’ve given me since the day we met. I’ll always be there, at the best and worst of times. I love you and have always known you’re who I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

The officiant nodded. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now-”

Bryce didn’t let him finish. He looped his arms around Emily’s waist and kissed her with an intensity that sent her heart soaring. She flung her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss as his arms tightened around her, lifting her feet from the floor.

After several seconds, Elijah’s voice called out, “Keep it PG!”

“Yeah, save something for the honeymoon!” Jackie chimed in.

Grinning, Emily pulled back, her face inches from his. “To be continued?”

“Hell yeah.” Bryce squeezed her hand as they turned to face the audience. Hand in hand, they retreated down the aisle.

Their audience cheered at them, and several minutes later they sat with their wedding party as they enjoyed thick slices of cake and heaping piles of food. When the announcement for the first dance caught their attention, Emily wiped frosting from her lips and smiled.

“Ready?”

“To dance with you? Aren’t I always?” Bryce took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. As the opening notes of the song began playing, he rested his other hand on the small of her back. They began swaying gently, surrounded by an audience of their friends.

For all those times you stood by me

For all the truth that you made me see

For all the joy you brought to my life

For all the wrong that you made right

For every dream you made come true

For all the love I found in you

Emily leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “How does it feel being actually married?”

“Best feeling ever, tied with the day Ava was born.” Bryce returned her kiss and touched his forehead to hers for a long moment as they continued dancing slowly to “Because You Loved Me.”

I'll be forever thankful, baby

You're the one who held me up

Never let me fall

You're the one who saw me through through it all

You were my strength when I was weak

You were my voice when I couldn't speak

You were my eyes when I couldn't see

You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn't reach

You gave me faith 'cause you believed

I'm everything I am

Because you loved me

The song faded out, transitioning to the next one and inviting other people to join them on the dance floor. Sienna released Ava, who barreled across the floor and launched herself at her parents.

Bryce scooped her up and tickled her stomach. “Does someone want a daddy daughter dance?”

“Dada!”

“Well, you’re lucky Mama wants more cake, so you get Dada all to yourself for this dance.” Emily kissed their daughter’s head, then slipped away from the dance floor to finish her cake. She sat down and watched, her heart swelling as Bryce swayed back and forth with Ava.

Sienna sat next to her and grinned. “Well? How do you feel?”

“Amazing. I know things won’t change much since we’ve been living together for so long now, but… things do feel different, and I love it.”

Several songs later, guests began slowly filing out of the wedding chapel.

Once everyone had left aside from a few people who stayed to help clean, Emily and Bryce changed out of their wedding clothes, dressing in casual clothes that would be more comfortable for their flight to California.

“Thank you guys so much for babysitting. Keiki is staying with some friends for the weekend, and we really appreciate you keeping Ava.”

“We don’t mind at all!” Ines grinned at the infant, who watched from Emily’s arms as Bryce put some things in the trunk of Zaid’s car.

“She shouldn’t be too much trouble. If you put her to bed around nine, she’ll sleep until six with no problems. She’s going through a phase where she likes to put stuff in the toilet, though, so you may need to weigh the lid down with something.”

Zaid sighed. “How lovely.”

Emily’s phone buzzed, reminding her of the time. “We have to leave for our flight now. Thanks again!”

She and Bryce both hugged and kissed their daughter before Emily deposited her without warning into Zaid’s arms. They said goodbye one more time before they left, setting course for the airport.

In the backseat of the cab, Emily snuggled into Bryce’s side. “Ready for our honeymoon, husband?”

Bryce’s mouth curled into the widest of smiles. “I’m ready, wife.”

XXXXX

“Wake up!”

A figure darted through their room and pounced onto the bed, effectively waking them up. Yawning, Bryce reached out and wrapped his arms around Ava, snuggling her close to him. “Let’s sleep another hour.”

“No, Daddy! I gotta go to school!”

“Says who?”

“The law!” Ava squirmed, freeing herself from his arms and scrambling out of bed.

“Yeah, Daddy. The law says she has to go to school.” Emily yawned and kissed her husband. She rolled out of bed and followed their wide-awake daughter into the kitchen.

Ava climbed into her seat, kneeling so she could reach the table. “Can I have coffee?”

“No way. What do you want instead?”

Sighing, Ava pursed her lips in thought. “A banana and toast.”

“I think we can manage that.” Emily sliced a banana and stuck a piece of bread in the toaster. She poured a cup of milk and set Ava’s breakfast in front of her. The little girl dug in, chewing fast with impatience.

“Slow down, squirt. The school building isn’t even open yet.” Bryce tousled Ava’s hair as he shuffled sleepily into the kitchen. He started a pot of coffee and poured a bowl of cereal for himself.

“I know, but I can’t be late.” Ava shook her head and sipped her milk, leaving a mustache on her lips. “I gotta pick out my shoes. I can’t decide what ones to wear.”

“Hey, it’s kindergarten. Proper footwear is important.” Bryce sat down, watching as Ava practically devoured her breakfast. When she was done, she flounced out of the room to get dressed.

“Someone’s excited.” Emily poured a cup of coffee and sat next to her husband. She stifled a yawn and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Too excited. Why is this happening?”

“Because she’s five and has to start school sooner or later.” Emily kissed his cheek, glancing up when Ava started yelling from the bathroom.

“Mommy! I need you! Quick! Hair!”

“Sounds like a hair emergency. I’ll be back.” She stood up and followed the sound of Ava’s pleas. She found her in the bathroom, trying to untangle her messy bed hair. Taking the brush from her, Emily worked through the tangles until Ava’s hair fell into place.

“Thank you!” Ava exclaimed through a mouthful of toothpaste. She finished getting ready and paced the floor impatiently while her parents got ready. When they emerged from their room, Ava grabbed her backpack and lunchbox.

“Ava, we’re not going to be late,” Emily assured her. She glanced down, arching a brow at the sight of a purple Croc on Ava’s left foot and a blue Converse on the right. “Are you wearing two different shoes?”

“I couldn’t decide!”

“Well… I guess that’s efficient.” Emily followed Bryce and Ava to the car. Ava buckled herself into her booster seat. She chattered excitedly as Bryce drove to the elementary school they’d enrolled her in. He had no sooner put the car in park when Ava unbuckled and reached for the door handle.

“Daddy, unlock it!”

Groaning, Bryce unlocked it. He and Emily each took one of Ava’s hands as they crossed the parking lot. When they reached the front door, he knelt down. “You sure you wanna start kindergarten today? We can just say we’ll homeschool you and let you go to work with Daddy every day.”

Ava shook her head. “I can go to work after school, Daddy.”

“It was worth a try.”

He held his arms out. Ava threw herself into them and hugged him tight. She released him and hugged Emily, then stared up her parents for a second. “Can I go in now?”

“Yeah, baby. Go in. We’ll see you this evening,” Emily assured her.

Bryce felt a lump form in his throat as he watched as Ava skipped into the building and out of sight. He swallowed hard and let out a sigh.“Is that really the same kid I potty trained and rocked to sleep?”

“Yes, Bryce.” Emily took his hand and steered him toward the parking lot. “It’s kindergarten. I’m worried you’ll have a heart attack the day she goes off to college.”

“Don’t even mention that.” Bryce shook his head. “She’s growing up way too fast and I want it to stop.”

Emily smiled in amusement as they got in the car. The school wasn’t far from Edenbrook, so they were at work in a matter of minutes. She and Bryce kissed and parted ways in the atrium. As she made her way upstairs to her office, she walked with a little pep in her step.

Dr. Emily Harmon-Lahela, Internal Medicine.

She’d never get tired of seeing that plaque on her door. Emily unlocked her office and shut the door behind her. Now that she was alone, she couldn’t stop grinning as she reached into her desk. She found the hidden box and opened it, then stepped into the bathroom.

Memories from almost six years ago flooded back to her as she relieved herself of the two glasses of orange juice she had chugged. She urinated on the stick and cleaned up, then paced impatiently as she waited for the results to show up.

When the result showed up, Emily stopped in her tracks and smiled.

Pregnant.

Note: I was SO soft writing this. This story ended up being so much longer than I expected, but I loved every bit of it! It’s a little sad to say goodbye to, but...

wait for it..

I AM WRITING A SEQUEL! The sequel will definitely be shorter, and it won’t be posted until probably December or January because I refuse to write a new series until I finish another current one, but it WILL happen! Keep an eye out!

Tags:

@elephant9998​ / @mvalentine​ / @fortunatelywaywardsandwich​ / @whatchique​ / @achalantspitfire​ / @lahellacute​ / @virtuallytakenby​ / @oofchoices​ / @dang-lahela​ / @misswhit12​ / @drakeismyweakness / @sitsoncornflake​ / @a-tragical-tale​ / @bitchloveskcbaseball​ / @laceandlula​ / @paulfwesley​ / @bloomingsivan​ / @anotherbeingsworld​ / @vamped99​ / @malvolari-take-my-soul​ / @doctorsurferbro​ / @loveellamae​ / @drethanfreakingramsey​ / @trappedinfandoms​ / @elladines / @macy-ray85​ / @mrsdrlahela​ / @lucy-268​ / @swimmingauthordreamerbonk​ / @drakewalker04​ / @crystalchrysalis19​ / @ajs-wife​ 

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Geralt x Injured reader part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Geralt x reader (self insert)

Warnings: swearing, injury, blood, I think that's all?

Summary: Reader is feeling jealous and wanders too far from camp.

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

Hey guys! This is like my first fanfiction ever. And I wrote it at like 3am when I couldn't sleep. It's probably trash but if you like it I do have ideas for more! Xoxo enjoy****

Geralt x injured reader part 1

Jealousy was not a pretty color on you. And you swore riot yourself it was no such thing. After all Geralt of Rivia was just a teacher/friend you were travelling with. You had some skill with a sword, he found you trying to take down a kikkemora all by yourself, and failing miserably. After you saw how skilled he was you begged him to take you with him, to train you. He said no of course, so you just kept tagging along without his consent. At some point though he finally decided that if you were gonna come along you might as well be of some use so you made a deal.

Over the months you grew stronger but still had much to learn. After all it takes years for anyone to become a great fighter. And luckily for you, Geralt had many many many years of experience to offer you.

You enjoyed the time you spent togther, the conversation, (although you did most of the talking..) and the training, he was one of the few people in your life you felt comfortable with. Someone you could always count on. And somewhere along your travels the line between student and teacher blurred for you into something else, although you did your best to deny it at first.

You had gone off and caught feelings for the man who had no interest in real committed relationships. You knew you had it bad when you found yourself overflowing with irritation when he spent his nights in the arms of some whore at a dirty brothel.

On those nights you drank until you passed out on roach. Pretty fucking pathetic y/n.

Then came along the witch, Yennefer..

You saw how they looked at eachother, a look you'd wish Geralt would give you even for a fleeting moment.

There were creatures that had been attacking the villagers at night, so the three of you, well four since Jaskier decided to tag along when he spotted us, were tracking these monsters into the forest. You didnt mind Jaskier at all, his songs a welcome distraction from the obvious growing bond between Geralt and Yennefer.

You felt horrible for the animosity you felt towards her. She did nothing wrong and you hated that if not for your jealousy, you probably would have been close friends.

If you were a better women you could get over your silly crush and focus on your training but...

Yeah you had some growing to do. After searching the forest for a few hours, and finding nothing, everyone was tired and decided to set up camp.

Once Geralt tied down roach, he turned to address the group, "Everyone is to stay in camp, these monsters are dangerous, so if you need to take a piss, I suggest you do it behind a tent, unless you wanna risk getting your head shot off" he said rather gruffly.

Jaskier made a sound of discomfort and scooted closer to the fire.

"Dont worry jaskier, I'll protect you" you giggled.

He turned to you in amusement, "Ah yes how does go the training y/n, last I saw you, you could barely lift your sword" he teased.

"I've gotten rather good, mind if I practice on you?" You teased.

"Thanks but I think I better go and get my beauty sleep, good night" he smiled and retreated into his tent.

You went to feed roach some apples when you noticed that Geralt and Yennefer had dissapeared.

Huh? Where did they go? At first you thought they were in trouble since you didnt hear either of them say goodnight but as you got closer to the middle of camp you heard voices coming from Yennefers tent.

You told yourself not to look but you couldn't help it. And the instant you did you felt your heart break. It was one thing to see him in the arms of a whore. You knew they meant nothing to him, but in the arms of someone he cares for? That hurt...

Roughly you turned away from the kissing couple and marched away. Away from camp, away from stupid feelings and dumb petty jealousy.

It was not yennefers fault she was beautiful and powerful and brilliant. And if you were jealous then you should become just as amazing as she is. Maybe then he would notice you...

You were snapped out of your reverie when a rustle in the bushes caught your attention.

Fuck I was not supposed to leave camp...

Thinking quickly, you unsheathed your sword and held it at the ready. Its sharp edge gleaming in the moonlight.

Eyes narrowing at the bush. A moment later you were relived when a rabbit hopped out.

Phew I thought It was--

*SCRAWWWWWWWWCH*

Fuck

You barely missed the creatures slimy claws as it swiped for your head. Jumping to the side you managed to get a good look at the beast. It was rather large and spider looking, with several disgusting sets of beady eyes and a long slithering tough that dripped of something purple. So geralt was right, the creature lurking here was a visser. (Completely made it up on the spot) They're claws are sharp and quick but it's the tongue you have to watch our for. One jab, although not fatal can leave a man in bed for days from pain. 2 jabs in the same place? then your a goner. And the visser is known to be smarter, he distracts with claws and jabs quickly before you can even blink.

You knew you should probably yell for your companions. There was a chance they could hear you. But that very second you thought of yennefer and how she would be able to take on a monster like this.

That made up your mind...this monster was going to be your kill... youd finish this off and prove that you had gotten stronger if it's the last thing you do.

Although that would kind of defeat the purpose...

"Urgh" you landed roughly on the ground, one of its claws managed to swipe at you.

"Ok no more misses nice gal" regainging your stance, the glint of the moon shone on your opponent. With a visser you had a few options. Option 1, go for the head which kills instantly but the risk of a jab is highest.

Option 2 is cut off all the legs quickly then send your sword through the head. But if it dodges... you're dead meat.

Option 3, try to get under the beast where its tongue cant reach you and strike upwards. With your small stature option 3 sounded the smartest. You just had to move fast enough where it wouldnt be able to see you for a split second.

Alright y/n dont let your training go to waste! This is your chance to prove yourself.

Running faster than you've ever ran before, you circled around the visser waiting for when the creature was even a second slow and could not see you. The right moment was.....

Now! You sprinted forward and slid under its legs.

"Scrawaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaachh" the monster howled in pain as you slammed your sword directly up getting covered in visser guts in the process.

"Blegh how disgusting.." you swiped the guts off your face and stood in front of the slain beast.

For once in a long time you felt proud of yourself. You slayed a monster all by yourself, even Geralt said you hadn't been ready yet and often told you to stay back during fights. But he would have to eat up his words now hehe. You could just imagine everyone's faces when you would tell them.

You were too wrapped up in your glory to notice a second visser sneaking up behind you.

By the time you heard its screech, it was too late. Its slimy black tongue had struck your stomach leaving a sizzling pain behind it.

"FUCK" unsheathing your sword again, you tried to maneuver far enough out of its reach to thing of a plan. There was no way you could pull on option 3 again with the way your core burned. One more jab and it would be over. Damn it! why couldn't you just have your victory and be done with it!

One hand clutched at your injury while the other was positioned weakly in front of you. Your eyes blurred slights but you refused to let this shit swamp be your final resting place.

The burning subsided to an ache and you used that opportunity to make a mad dash into the thicket. You needed to think of a plan and quick, it would not take long for the visser to catch up with you, especially now that you had that stupid injury.

"Srawwwwwwwwwch" it sounded like it was right behind you. Fuck fuck fuck.

And then because mother nature decided to be a BITCH, you tripped on a large tree root and tumbled forward.

"Scraeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech" you flipped over quickly and shut your eyes as the visser was basically on top of you. 3 more seconds and you would be dead.

3, how pathetic y/n, after all these promises you made to yourself about becoming someone worth being proud of you fuck up the one chance you had.

2, maybe it's better this way, would anyone even miss you? Jaskier would, maybe he would even write a song about you..

1, I'm sorry I was an idiot...Geralt I'll watch over you...

"SWOOOOOOOOSH" the unmistakable sweet sound of metal slicing through flesh made your eyes shoot wide open.

"Geralt!" He stood out of breath hovering over the now beheaded visser. His sharp golden eyes moved from the beast, to you.

Without a word he reached over and pulled you up without a hint of gentleness. You hid your wince at the sudden movement. Not wanting to let anyone know that the visser had gotten the better of you.

"What happened" he bit out slowly. Fuck he was angry. "Why did you leave camp y/n when I explicitly told you not to" his feline eyes bore into yours and suddenly you felt too intimated and looked away.

Ah yes what excuse will I come up with now. Sorry Geralt I had to leave because I felt immense pressure and heartache seeing you and Yennefer over there locking lips and most passionately I might add.

When he noticed my hesitation he let out a growl, "Hmm, don't lie to me"

Fuuuuuuuuuck...

"I-I didnt mean to, really... I couldn't sleep so I was walking close to camp and I didnt even realize I had wandered so far until the other visser attacked." You looked him in the eyes knowing it would better your chances of him believing it.

He stared at you a few more seconds before letting out a sigh.

" You killed it" he said bluntly, and softer than before.

"I did.." you couldn't help the small smile that formed on your face. He sighed again, this time he had a small smirk on his face, "Well I guess you have learnt some things after all" he patted your shoulder but pulled away when Yennefer and Jaskier appeared.

"Y/n thank god your alive, are you alright?!" Jaskier grabbed your shoulders and scanned you for injuries. Luckily your stomach was covered by your armor, visser Jabs were known for hurting like hell at first, seeming to get better shortly after, then coming back tenfold. Right now you were at stage two, the calm before the storm..

Yennefer made a comment about how impressive you were to slay the visser and you hated yourself for still feeling ill towards her. She was a great person and you could not blame Geralt for liking her. It was just an unfortunate situation.

The walk back was quiet and the second you were in your tent again you dared to take a look at the wound. Gingerly you unbuckled your armor and lifted up your shirt.

You let out a small sigh of relief. It just looked like a large bruise. Nothing you couldn't pass off as a "I fell off roach" kinda injury.

As positive as you tried to be, you knew the worst was yet to come. But by god you were not about to let your victory be ruined by your companions knowing of this. Especially since Yennefer and Geralt could've slain the beast without a scratch.

Somehow you were lucky and slept the rest of the night in peace. It was early when jaskier came to wake you. Although you slept plenty, you felt just as exausted as you did after your late night encounter.

Before putting on your armor, you dared to look at the wound again. You regretted it the moment you did.

Fuck me... the bruise was much darker than before and covered a larger area. As for the pain, it felt only slightly more sore which was good for now. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to find out about it.

Quickly you threw togther the rest of your things and met the others. According to the village leader there was one more visser out there so we continued our search deeper into the forest. It was around noon when the pain intensified. It started as a constant dull ache but gradually became a burning sensation. It was becoming harder to hide it.

You made up some excuse to the group and sat on top of roach. You were sure if you had to walk anymore you would have fallen over. Luckily for awhile jaskier was more preoccupied with his latest ballad and geralt and yen were wrapped up in some serious conversation. You didnt realize how far you were lagging behind until jaskier turned to you.

"Y/n?" He walked over to you and pulled on roaches reigns making him go a little faster.

"Hm" was all you could manage.

"Are you alright? You're sweating so much"

Confused you ran a hand over your head. He was right, you were and didnt even feel it.

"Yo- sic- rest-" what? Why was Jaskier talking gibberish...and why is he so blurry?

You didnt even feel yourself pitching to the side, just the woosh of air through your ears.

"Y/N!? Y/N what's wrong?!?!" Jaskier barely managed to catch your half conscious form. "GERALT!" The witcher swung around sword at the ready but widened his eyes in shock at what he saw.

Y/n was on the floor, breathing heavily and being propped up by Jaskier.

Geralt and Yennefer quickly ran over. The witchers eyes narrowed in concern when he saw the state of her. She was sweating profusely and looked to be struggling with something. Yennefer raised a hand to her forehead but shook her head. "Its not a fever".

Geralt held her up, lightly smacking her face, he grew even more worried when she didnt react.

"Jaskier what happened"

"I don't know, I noticed she was falling behind so I went to check on her, then I noticed she looked sick, I was telling her we should stop and rest but then she just collapsed. She seemed really out of it too.

At that moment a grunt of pain escaped y/n's lips, and her eyes slowly opened.

You were confused as to why when you opened your eyes, gerald's golden ones were staring at yours with intense concern.

"Y/n can you hear me??" he questioned furrowing his brows.

"I-I ahhhgh" you screwed your eyes shut as the pain intensified. It felt like someone had set your stomach on fire.

This only confused geralt more, "you're hurt" he said as more of a statement.

"Where is the pain y/n," the gentle voice of yennefer surrounded you. Ugh why couldn't she just be a bitch, it would make things so much easier.

You tried speaking but a moan left your lips instead. Fuck this hurt worse than anything you had encountered before.

Geralt closed his eyes as if he had a sudden realization, "you got hit by the visser didnt you"

When you didnt speak but he saw the look in your eyes he knew it was true. "Fuck".

Quickly he began removing your armor and saw the injury peeking from under your shirt. He wasted no time lifting it up just until below your chest. You heard small gasps but were too out of it to know from who.

"Fuck y/n, why didn't you say anything??" Geralt scolded as he examined the wound.

Luckily you didnt have to answer, just focus on breathing heavily.

"Will she be alright?!" The frantic voice of jaskier floated through your ears.

"It would have been better if she told us from the beginning, with a visser attack you need to stay still as much as you can. However by the looks of it she only got hit once, which means she still has a chance."

"What can we do?" Was it yennefer or jaskier who said that?

Geralt pulled a sack from roach and rummaged through it till he pulled out a yellowish filled bottle.

Lifting y/n with one arm he pulled the cork with his teeth and gently placed it between her lips. "Drink y/n" without a second thought you downed the strange liquid coughing as it burned your throat like liquor.

"What is that?" Jaskier asked curiously.

" it's for the pain, it'll make her feel like shes dreaming." Geralt threw her armor onto roach and lifted her up carefully into his arms. "Let's go" he ordered and the troup was once again on their way. Geralt gave one look at the now sleeping y/n and sighed. What was she thinking?

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

When you opened your eyes the first thing you did was let out a girlish laugh.

Geralt was surprised for a moment since you had been silently resting in his arms for a long time. "Y/n?"

"Geralt! You've dyed your hair pink! How adorable!" You reached up and pulled at the cotton soft locks.

The witcher sighed, knowing this was the effect of the medicine. Jaskier and yennefer let out a small laugh at the scene of the two.

"Go back to sleep y/n, you need rest" he commanded softly.

"GERALT!" you suddenly exclaimed! "Oh no you cant be the white wolf anymore! Oh no oh no oh no WAIT I GOT IT! YOU CAN BE THE PINK PONY! QUICK JASKIER WRITE THIS DOWN!!"

"Ah yes the witcher, pink pony of the north, has a nice ring to it" jaskier couldn't contain his laughter.

Geralt decide it best to ignore her and keep walking forward.

"Geralt?" He chose to ignore her again. "Geralt....?"

"Gerrrrrallllllt?"

"GERALT!"

"Geralt geralt geralt geralt geralt geralt"

"What?!" He bit out annoyed.

"Do you think I'm pretty? hehe" he was caught off guard and was not sure how to answer. It didnt help the other two were just giggling behind him.

"I um....yeah" he said awkwardly.

"So I dont look like a troll?" You asked earnestly.

"Pfft what?" Now geralt was the one who couldn't control his laughter.

"Don't laugh!" You suddenly pouted. "A long time ago one of my lovers said I looked like a troll when he broke up with me.."

Still amused geralt shifted you to meet his eyes, "No y/n, you do not look like a troll"

"Phew thank god, I dont know what I would have done..." you laid a hand against your head dramatically.

"Now will you please stop squirming and go back to sleep" geralt sighed out.

"Hmmmmmmmmmmm......alright I've decided to go to sleep since I need sleep and it's what I have decided" you saluted the air.

"Finally.." he grumbled.

With a smile you reached both arms around his neck and brought your soft lips to his unshaven cheek.

"Goodnight pinky, sweet creams" he was shocked for a moment then let out an exasperated laugh.

"Goodnight y/n...sweet creams"

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

To be continued in part 2!

[maomao-words]

Inspiration hit me a few days ago and all I felt like doing was write for the MLQC fandom! (=・ω・=)

So here I am! I will hopefully post some of my other writings soon too!

But for now, I hope you enjoy these (●'◡'●)ﾉ

MLQC Boys as Bodyguards: (Victor, Lucien, Kiro and Gavin)

Victor:

Weapons: A handgun equipped with a silencer and a katana which has your initials engraved on its black handle.

Background: Victor is the top ranked bodyguard known in the high society. Your family had to go through a prolonged battle of wits and money with numerous other important figures just to be able to hire Victor as your bodyguard. Dominating and commanding, Victor’s distinct aura screams authority and power for all who lay their eyes on him. Just his name is enough to deter countless of those who were planning to harm you. Those stupid enough to still risk attacking with Victor at your side simply dug their own graves and were not even able to get any information on your whereabouts, let alone spill your blood.

Fighting style: Victor does not mess around. His words are the law and the law you shall follow. He has been handed the duty of protecting you and he has no intention of wasting his time on indulging you in your risky adventures and whimsical decisions. He gets to decide everything that concerns your safety and all you have to do, in order to continue surviving, is to obey his orders. An advice? Do not attempt to rebel against him. It will only result in him convincing your father to leave you in charge of several business-related projects that will bound you to your office for no less than six months.

With his intricate network of acquaintances and allies of important and powerful figures, it is only rarely that Victor gets to fight directly in order to protect you. Victor is highly skilled in predicting threats and eliminating them before they even fully manifest. In those scarce moments where an enemy is powerful enough to get near you, Victor is considered as the last and ultimate defense line. He likes to execute his attacks silently and calmly. One shot to the heart will quickly seal the deal, save Victor’s efforts and protect you from needless scenes of blood and violence. Many enemies have mistaken the handgun as Victor’s main weapon, disregarding the katana as a mere ornament, and focused most of their manpower on disarming him. This mistake is what usually leads to their complete annihilation. Victor’s katana which he carries with him at all times is in fact his cherished lifeline as it is efficient, practical and does not run out of lethality.

Off duty: Victor’s off duty routine is not that far from his day to day habitual activities. He remains in full control of all things and does not seem to recognize the real meaning of being off the clock. The one thing that does change, however, is that Victor gets sweeter and gentler with you. If you have been an obedient master for the past few days, Victor will make sure to reward you with a taste of his cooking which you absolutely love.

With Victor at your side, just sit back and relax since danger is no longer a possible happening in your world. I do hope however that you are ready to pay the “price” of this absolute safety as Victor is not cheap by all means.

Lucien:

Weapons: A sniper rifle with a high-precision for ranged attacks and a handgun for close combat.

Background: Lucien is the bodyguard you cannot read most. At days, you even wonder whether he is really on your side or simply lurking in your shadows to eventually kill you. His eyes betray none of his thoughts and his hands, cold yet tender as they wrap around your waist to guide you through dangerous situations, seem to be always covered in blood yet somehow still feel as gentle as a feather on your skin. Lucien is a riddle that you are ready to spend your whole life solving, even if the chances of winning are close to none.

Fighting Style: Lucien mostly prefers to situate himself in the shadows of the roof a tall building and strike the enemy with one shot of his rifle from a distance. Lucien is known to dislike close combat; a fact several of your enemies sought to exploit only to discover that Lucien is as merciless with his fists as he is with his rifle. He just dislikes getting blood on his suit and would prefer to avoid that.

Mysterious and charming, you will not be able to get your eyes off of Lucien no matter how much his actions scream treason and suspicion. Because no matter how much his plots and schemes seem to be leading you to death, he will always appear at the very last second and gets you out of harm’s way, with a gorgeous smile in tow. Lucien’s existence is like a deadly poison to you, and you are just addicted to him.

Off duty: Lucien’s role in your life extends from a talented bodyguard and assassin to your own personal butler. He takes care of delivering and managing all the important papers and documents sent to you and even offers his own advice on different business-related matters. He also manages your personal schedule and private affairs, from meals and sleeping times to clothing choices and hairdresser appointments. Lucien is a highly qualified aid so do listen carefully to him. You will not regret following the plans he draw. Despite it all, however, there are also moments where Lucien seems to open up to you, moments where his eyes, usually two bottomless voids of blackness, suddenly clear up and his smile gets softer as he gazes at you cooking or playfully petting his cat. Those moments, although scarce and rare, are your most cherished possessions and you won’t exchange them for the world.

With Lucien by your side, you must get used to courting danger. Just never question why you are enjoying hell as you keep on dancing with the devil.

Kiro:

Weapons: A mini laptop and a dagger with a golden handle with your initials engraved on it. He also carries a handgun in case of emergencies.

Background: Kiro seems to be your best friend who just happens to also be your bodyguard. Right from the start, Kiro seemed to win your heart in a blink of an eye and you formed an inseparable duo ever since. Thanks to his bubbly personality and sunshine-like smile, you just can’t help but smile and giggle whenever you are around Kiro. Nevertheless, despite the numerous years you spent by his side, you are still startled by the drastic changes Kiro display when it is necessary for him to activate his bodyguard mode and discard his tender smile and gentle touches.

Fighting style: Don’t be tempted. Kiro’s lovely smile and gorgeous looks are nothing but a deadly trap for those who wish you harm. Kiro will not hesitate to use them to his benefit, attracting them before slicing their throats with a cold smile on his face. He usually takes care of all threats as soon as they start to bud and before they even reach the range of a kilometer close to you. With his trusty laptop in hand, Kiro will manipulate, hack and destroy whatever he deems dangerous. Your villa’s top notch security is also established and managed by Kiro, so rest assured, no intruder will be able to set foot into your backyard without being shot or electrified to death.

Off duty: Once his job is finished, Kiro will turn back to his sunshine self in a blink of an eye and will turn to you with his twinkling eyes and jumps on you, asking for a bear hug. Kiro’s off duty routine mostly consists in eating unhealthy snacks, watching hero movies with you and challenging you in silly video games. If the coast is safe enough for you to leave the house, Kiro will definitely accompany you to movies, to attraction parks, to zoos and to basically wherever you wish to go. If there is any sign of danger, Kiro will coop up with you at home and keep you entertained all the while keeping an eye out on you and making sure the threat that is forbidding you both from having your usual dates is dead and buried before the 12 hours mark even passes.

I hope you like sugar and fluffy sweets because that’s how life will taste like with Kiro by your side. Ah, but don’t forget! Even teddy bears have sharp claws!

Gavin:

Weapons: A handgun and a mercenary knife with a silver handle that you personally picked for him.

Background: Gavin seems as the calm, collected and detached type of bodyguard at the start. When he first started working for your family, he simply performed his duties to a perfection, protected you to the best of his abilities and then completely detached himself from you as soon as he was off duty. You initially thought that he was uninterested in building an actual relationship with you and respected the distance he drew between you. But as time went by, you discovered that, contrary to your assumptions, Gavin was just too clumsy in his attempt to get close to you and ended up cutting you off instead of bringing you to him. This awkward yet sincere confession came from a very red-faced Gavin as he lay on top of you trying to shield you from bullets. His clumsiness managed to win you heart and your relationship started to change for the better ever since.

Fighting style: Gavin is a proficient all-rounded soldier. He is perfectly capable of tracking and hunting down enemies, leading and coordinating between security teams as well as shielding and protecting allies. Gavin is sure to secure the safety of his client regardless of the threat he faces. He prefers close combat as he is highly competent in hand to hand battles as well as street brawls. He is also extremely skillful with his gun, using it mostly to secure an escape route for you in cases of ambushes and, in extreme situations, shoot down any threat on the spot. Gavin does not kill until he deems the situation necessary. He values human life and continuously encourage you not to hold grudges and not to consider the world as a mere violent and bloody realm.

Off duty: Off duty, Gavin’s more laid back and boyish charms come to the surface. He likes exercising in his free time and welcomes you with open arms if you come to him for private self-defense lessons. Gavin also enjoys playing video games with you and does not hesitate to let you win just to receive one of your hugs as a reward. When it comes to his butler skills, however, he is at the same low level of Kiro. He once attempted to bake a cake for you, ended up burning half of the kitchen’s ceiling and was banned from getting close to a stove for the rest of his life by you.

Just get used to the feeling of safety because Gavin is willing to risk his life for you. So let him spoil you.

[cyndecreativity]

Zodiac Chronicles - Trouble in Tauri - Ch. 1

Trampled paths carved through a thin layer of snow in two opposite directions, converging on a small schoolhouse that rested by a stream. The wider path led between a pair of farms and into the village proper a few miles off. The smaller path consisted of only one set of very large tracks, boot prints of an unusual size, that led to the small stream and back to the door. Tristan eyed his large tracks as he closed the schoolhouse door and hoped the midday sun might melt the snow enough to obscure them.

Tristan backed away from the door and turned slowly, careful not to bump his horns on the doorframe or any of the other students. The villager children paid him no mind, hanging their heavy woolen coats, hats, and other cold weather gear on the hooks in the mudroom. Several of the girls even seemed happy to see each other, giggling and shrieking with glee, leaning to whisper conspiratorially as they headed to their seats.

The young ones, the calves, moved awkwardly, as calves do, and climbed onto the benches to hang their scarves and hats up. Some preferred to stuff their things into the bins below the benches. After the removal of their hats, one of the calves became surrounded. Tristan just barely made out their young pronunciations of shock and amazement at the nubs protruding from the center one’s scalp. It would be several years for the nubs to turn into anything even resembling horns, but with the arrival of the nubs, that calf become the coolest and most mature among the herd. He reflected on his brief moment of approval when his nubs arrived. And struggled to forget the subsequent frustration and terror from his peers as the nubs grew larger and longer than normal.

Struggling against the memory, Tristan frowned and dropped off his gear on his half of the mudroom. The boys of the class lingered to remove their gear. Ladies first, as the manners say, and the calves have little sense of propriety. Tristan gathered his materials for class, plus an ancient Herbology almanac.

“We didn’t think you’d make it today, Jorgus. Are you okay? What happened to your father?” Tristan’s ear perked up at the voice of one of the other boys.

“Doesn’t really concern you, does it, Seamus.” A thud as the Jorgus, a gangly bull with fresh horns in his brown hair, threw his bag down on the bench under his hook.

Tristan turned and watched Seamus, a sturdy young bull with black hair and a square jaw, furrow his brow. “I’d think it concerns all of us! The attacks have been happening more often, yeah? And with all our Dads-”

Jorgus growled and tilted his head, jerking his horns with agitation. “Seamus, just drop it, okay?”

Seamus shared a look with the other boys, Jorgus’s usual group, and nodded. “We’ll… catch up on the way home, then?” He did his best to sound optimistic.

Tristan watched the boys turn away one by one to leave Jorgus to finish. Mortimer, the youngest among them, his hair still almost white, received a light whack from one of the other boys. Jorgus turned to check on their departure and caught Tristan’s prying eye. He sneered and tilted his horns at him. Tristan started and jerked back to his own preparations.

Part of him wished he could walk home with those boys, to make a group of friends and… do whatever friends do together. He wished he could talk about the orchard with them, about the plants along the path, about their crops, and the state of their land. He wanted to make friends his own age. But he knew how he looked, how they all looked more like his younger siblings. Not just because of his incredible size, but the older Lunars, those that heard the voices, told him he had aged far too quickly, gaining a few years in a few months as a babe. Blessed by the Spirits, they called it. He called it a curse.

He took the last bench at the table in the back left of the large open schoolhouse. This area in the back typically held the eldest students, the ones closer to the front reserved for the younger calves, or most in danger academically. He held the bench in the back for years simply due to his size, too large to sit anywhere else in the room. He might block the view of the other students was the official reason, but mostly he took up a desk and a half on a good day.

Unbidden, he remembered vividly the pain in his chest the day the girl he typically sat next to, perhaps eleven at the time, had complained before class that he had crushed her hand when attempting to use his ink and bone splinter. He barely remembered swinging his arm out far enough to touch her. The teacher had simply calmed the girl down and offered him the bench in the back. As he moved, he watched the girl’s best friend eagerly move up to take his seat with no objections from the teacher. He sat in the middle of the bench and spread out comfortably over the two-desk wide table. He felt his size for the first time and tears stung at his eyes. He looked up as Miss Shaunessy moved to the blackboard and continued with class, though not without offering an apologetic smile. That remained his table for the following four years.

The aging Taurus woman, not old, but not as young as she used to be, walked down the center aisle of the classroom. Wrinkles threatened at the corners of her eyes, a few locks of silvery hair threaded into her hair buns under each horn. She assessed the youngest calves first and shot harsh glances to the gossiping girls as he walked by. At the head of the room once again, she smiled to the class and listed off her plans for lessons that day. Calves first, as their attention span dwindled as it grew toward lunch, then the higher education lessons for the older children.

As the drone of the teacher buzzed in the back of Tristan’s ears, his mind drifted to the work left in the orchard. Wasps had moved into a section of the trees that he would need to discourage from the area. An increasingly common occurrence, but nothing difficult. Fruits and flowers had been scattered under a few trees, easy enough to clean up and add to the compost bin. With the shorter days of the season, he pondered how much light he would have to work with. He opened his almanac and started to thumb absently through the pages, scanning the detailed diagrams as they passed. He paused on a page and studied the flora depicted. It had to be the flower that appeared at the edge of the grove a few days ago. He tugged a sheet of parchment out of his bundle and dipped his bone into the ink well on his desk to scribble the page number down.

At midday, the teacher encouraged them to take lunch outside, the sun shining brightly for long enough to raise the temperature a few degrees. Tristan hesitated in the mudroom as the others filed out with their bundles. When no chuckles or insults found their way to him, he peeked outside and found the ground moist with melted snow. He heaved a small sigh of relief, forced into a sharp exhale as Jorgus elbowed him out of the way. Tristan straightened up to allow the boy and his friends passage.

Tristan turned back to his things and caught sight of the Mayor’s daughter, Isolde, watching him. He furrowed his brow to her, a simple unspoken question. She stiffened, blushed, and turned back to her things to hastily throw her scarf over her head. It caught in her little female horns, the movement too fast or still not used to her horns’ length. The flush moved to her ears as she disentangled the knitted muffler to drape around her neck. He chuckled quietly, despite himself, as she hurried outside with her wrapped bundle of food. Tristan returned to his desk to eat his salad in peaceful loneliness.

Dismissal usually marked a feeling of relief among the students as they darted from their desks and gathered their things. Today, however, the girls from that morning gathered together to whisper again, pointing to Jorgus occasionally. Tristan slowly gathered his books and papers and lifted his inkwell to stopper it.

“I told you to drop it!” Jorgus’s voice filled the small building, startling and quieting the girls for a moment.

His friends, the group of boys around his age, shrunk away again. Tristan looked down to his desk, dotted with splatter from his inkwell, and pressed the stopper in. A bin under the bench in the mudroom held the spare cloths to clean spills with. He lifted his eyes back to the scene as the girls’ whispers grew again. Jorgus unceremoniously scooped up his things before Miss Shaunessy could approach him.

Seamus, Mortimer, Geremiah, and Brandon followed him to the mudroom. Tristan rounded the wall that separated his desk from the mudroom and crouched down to seek the box of throwaway cloth under the bench.

“Oh, and students! Please do not forget to travel in a herd as you head directly home.” A few of the students groaned. “I’m just telling you what I’ve been told, sweetings. They also emphasized not being out after dark. Winter has shorter periods of sun, which means you will have less time to dally. And there is always safety in numbers.” Miss Shaunessy sauntered the length of the classroom as she spoke to fix Jorgus with a particularly intense gaze. He sneered. She turned around and caught sight of Tristan. “Oh, Tristan, I noticed you weren’t paying very close attention during lectures today. Did you need help with anything I covered today?”

He shook his head. Miss Shaunessy noticed far more things than the previous teacher. He grabbed a cloth stained with spots of paint and ink and stood to shake the fabric to her with a hopefully gentle smile.

As he stretched to his full height, she leaned back slightly to keep her eyes on his, but she did not show any fear. She merely smiled back and patted his arm. She shifted out of his way and walked with him the few steps back to his desk. “You don’t have anyone to head home with, do you, dear?”

He shook his head. A silly question.

She nodded. “You do live alone on the other side of those woods… Would you like me to go ask for an escort for you?”

His brow furrowed.

An uneasy smile crossed her face, a mix between nervous amusement and worry. “No, I suppose you’re big enough to handle most things on your own. But you’re still just a boy, despite outward appearances. I just want to make sure you’re taken care of, is all.”

His breath hitched. He vowed to pay more attention to her lectures.

“You mean someone was attacked last night!?” A brown-haired girl with the smallest horns in the group lifted her fist to her chin, brow knit.

Evelynn, the blonde ringleader of the girls and owner of the largest horns, nodded as she made her way to the mudroom. “Isn’t it just awful? And the attacks are getting more frequent. That’s why they want us to walk in herds now.” She gestured to a pair of girls, both younger, as they scrambled for their things. “You heard that right, calves?”

The two girls, Flora and Aishling, chorused a “Yes, sissy!” and proceeded to haphazardly don their layers of clothing. The youngest children moved quickly, faster than their teenage counterparts, thanks to the small growths on their heads not yet formed into horns. Evelynn rolled her eyes and continued on to her hook to don her own set of weather gear. Miss Shaunessy smiled absently at the children and patted Tristan on the arm before wandering back toward her desk.

“But my father told me it was-“ Evelynn glanced at the group of boys across the mudroom and whispered loud enough for them to hear. “-Jorgus’s father that was attacked last night.”

The girls shared a gasp with varying reactions of surprise.

“You keep my name out of your dirty mouth, Evelynn!” Jorgus burst through his group of friends, finger pointed sharply at the ringleader of the gossipers.

Miss Shaunessy stopped in the middle of the building by the firepit. She shared a look with the mayor’s daughter Isolde still at her desk as she turned around. Tristan dropped the rag on his desk and moved into the mudroom. He had no intention of intervening, but his size intimidated most folk, forcing cool heads to arguments.

Evelynn swatted his hand away as she crossed her arms, big brown eyes glaring daggers into him. Her friends fanned out around her to cross their arms at Jorgus, though not all of them had their heart in it. One girl stayed behind, the brown-haired one, and glanced at Tristan.

Jorgus narrowed his dark eyes at Evelynn, his head tilted to brandish his longer and sharper horns at the girls. His friends, too surprised at his actions, took a few moments to step in beside their friend to brandish their horns, smaller than Jorgus’s but still as harmful if used properly.

Evelynn did not appear fazed, thought the tremble of her voice betrayed her. “My father told me that yours was injured last night while they were hunting. He said they had to take him to the doctor because his injuries were so severe.”

All the posturing broke. Whispers of “The Doctor?” moved through both groups, each losing their members to gossip, conjecture, and fear.

“He’s fine. He’ll be home by dinner tonight and tomorrow we’ll work on tilling the land.” Jorgus cracked his neck.

Evelynn’s lip curled. “Everyone knows that the no one comes back from seeing the Doctor.” She grinned, confident in her victory.

Jorgus tilted his head the other way. “Well my dad isn’t everyone else. The doctor told me himself that Pa would be back by tonight.”

Miss Shaunessy stepped slowly down the center aisle toward the two little herds of teens. She caught Tristan’s eye and nodded at him to step down. He lowered his shoulders and stepped back a bit, but remained ready in case Jorgus made the wrong decision.

Just as Miss Shaunessy entered the mudroom, the energy between the herds changed. Evelynn rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Young bulls and their posturing.” She grabbed her things and stormed out the door into the chilly winter air. “Come on, girls!”

Most of the girls shot hateful looks as they grabbed their things quickly to follow Evelynn. Maeve, the brown-haired one, moved slowly to grab her things and hesitated at the door. Jorgus relaxed slightly and straightened his head to glare at her. Maeve squeaked and disappeared through the door.

Jorgus growled and stalked back to his desk. His small herd of friends stayed in the entrance and moved to begin dressing in their jackets and scarves. Isolde hesitated, but returned to packing up her things. Miss Shaunessy heaved a small sigh and trotted down the center aisle back to her desk.

Tristan furrowed his brow. Only Miss Shaunessy, Jorgus, and Isolde remained in the schoolhouse building. He hoped, despite his own solitude, that Jorgus or Isolde had a group to walk home with. Especially if the monster sightings proved to be true. He hoped that Jorgus’s father recovered and that Evelynn’s gossip proved to be only that. But in the case that Tristan’s hope had no basis in reality, he knew the only tangible thing to do. He knew the only thing he wanted his whole life.

“Uh, hey, Jorgus.” Tristan lifted a large hand to wave awkwardly to the young man.

Jorgus jumped at Tristan’s low timbre and backed away, eyeing him up and down as he jammed a few scraps of paper in his bag. “What do you want, cullbait?”

Tristan’s brow furrowed despite being used to the insult. “I just… uh, wanted to tell you that… um, I’m sorry about your father. I know how… how difficult it is to-to worry about your father and, uh… I guess you’re the man of the house while he’s injured. A-and at least you still have your-your mother and your little siblings-“

Jorgus’s mouth lifted in disgust as Tristan rambled, his cheeks lifted to squeeze his eyes into a narrow, his brow furrowed. “What are you rambling about?” He thrust the last of his items into his satchel.

Tristan lifted a hand to the shaft of his horn to grip it and rub absently, a habit from when they had hurt growing in. “If… If you need any help-“

Jorgus spun on the larger boy. “Help!? From you?” He dropped his satchel on the desk. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten it through that thick skull of yours that nobody even wants you here.” He scoffed. “We’d want your ‘help’ even less.”

Isolde tightened the leather strap on her stack of books and papers. “Jorgus-“

Jorgus shook his head and turned to her, poking a finger at her face. “No, not even from you. Mayor’s daughter, as if that excludes you from suffering like the rest of us. I heard your father is sick. From that plague. The one from before. That it’s coming back.” He looked back to Tristan. “I also heard it’s your fault. You and that foreigner father of yours. Your mother knew about it and cast a spell to protect your land, but nobody else’s. That’s why you’re safe. And we’re not.”

Tristan’s arms quivered. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should’ve just gone home, alone, like every night. He closed his eyes and gripped his horn tighter, his other arm lifted to cover his torso.

“And then you have the nerve! You continue living here, coming to this school, as if you have any right!” Jorgus tilted his head down to brandish his horns again. “You and your father should be driven out of town!”

A sharp pain on his arm startled Tristan. Blood blossomed on the arm over his torso.

“Tristan!” Miss Shuanessy bolted for the scrap fabric Tristan dropped onto his desk.

Jorgus, stunned, raised a hand to touch his horn. It came back red. He shook his head, he muttered something, and grabbed his satchel. Isolde hurried around the desks and stumbled as Jorgus pushed past her to run from the building.

“Come here, poor boy.” Miss Shaunessy pressed the fabric to Tristan’s arm. “That boy… He may be a handful but ever since his horns grew out the way they did…” She looked to Tristan’s face. “Don’t take it too personally. Like you said, he’s having a rough go of it. It was nice of you to try to connect with him and offer to help out.”

Isolde hovered by the edge of the row. Tristan looked to her, chest empty. He never should’ve tried. He knew what the town thought of him and his father. He knew better. Tears welled in his eyes and he pressed his hand to the cloth. Miss Shaunessy released him with the promise of salves or something, but Tristan had to get out. He had to go home.

He moved back to his desk and found Isolde holding his satchel, all packed and tied and ready. He barely registered the act, how she had moved so fast, and accepted his bag. He dropped the fabric and satchel to slip into his weather gear. A stray thought reminded him to be careful of the wound bleeding through his jacket as he only had the one. He growled. All because the town hated him. All because of a stupid rumor.

He grabbed his bag and ripped the door open. The sun had indeed melted all the snow outside, revealing moist and brittle grass. A few groups of kids lingered and chatted as they headed back toward the village. Jorgus’s little herd had waited for him, despite his protestations, and crowded him to point at his bloodied horn.

Tristan’s blood. He stomped down the short stairs. “All I wanted was to help, Jorgus Jones!”

Jorgus spun around at the voice. Terror pulled at his features at the massive bulk of Tristan charging toward him. He whipped back around and moved swiftly for the path that lead back to town.

Tristan growled. He wanted to stop him, to make him understand, to hold him responsible for injuring him. So many emotions threatened to split him open. “Everyone should be allowed to help each other! We’re a community! That’s what it means to be a community!” In his frustration, he looked to the rest of the students that have lingered to gawk.

A loud thud drew everyone’s attention. All eyes turned to Jorgus, groaning on the ground, a large root split through the soil at his feet. He writhed a bit and got to his hands and knees. A shrill chuckle can be heard from further up the path. Tristan caught Evelynn through the blur of his tears, hand in front of her mouth, as she laughed at the unfortunate bull. The rest of her group chuckled, one by one, with varying degrees of mirth. The laughter spread through the rest of the students, including Jorgus’s little herd. He grunted as he stood and bolted down the path, past Evelynn and her friends.

Tristan sniffed and continued to wipe his face, the cold winter air unpleasant on the slight moisture around his eyes. He slipped his satchel over his shoulder and checked the sleeve of his coat. A chill wind whipped past him and his hands hurt. He left his other accessories in the building. He turned around to head back inside and almost bowled over Isolde.

“Oh! Excuse me, Tristan.” She smiled brightly to him, in an uncomfortable way he could not place.

He barely nodded and attempted to move past her.

She gently placed a hand on his arm. He froze, eyes on the contact. He recognized her mitten, knitted by his father some winters ago and sold by the village seamstress Ciara. His brow furrowed. Her other mitten lifted to offer him his forgotten accessories; mittens similar to hers, a long scarf knitted by his father with a less intricate design, and a warm knitted cap that he tied around his horns. He muttered a thank you and dropped his sack on the ground to don the accessories.

She held his items as he donned them individually. “I agree with you, by the way.” He lifted his eyes to her. “We should be allowed to help each other, as a community. I think it’s just awful that we are so discriminatory to those that are sick and injured. Or who have been in the past.”

He nodded absently. Paranoia and fear shook his fingers. He looked up to the rest of the students, those that lingered, and found hateful glares. Isolde, the mayor’s daughter, held high regard among the town, high enough that even her father’s illness did not dull her priority among them. To find her speaking to him? He snatched his scarf and easily tossed it over his horns to drape from his shoulders.

Before she could continue, he hurriedly wandered away from her, down the path to the thick row of trees that separated his orchard from the school. He barely heard Isolde sputter after him, the crunch of dead plantlife under her boots with a few steps. He heard the whispers of the other students, however, and quickened his step. He should know better. And so should Isolde.

[blackenedwhite97]

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.17-18)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

 https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 17

White hot light seared into your eyes, sharp pain running from temple to temple. Your throat was raw, your skin felt waterlogged and frozen, and your back was screaming under strain. You were on your knees, arms outstretched to your sides and bound to a horizontal beam balanced on a post where your shoulders were mounted. You blinked hard, the midday sun glaring directly at you, and looked around. You were facing the open valley, the singed farmhouse far off to your left and one of the vacant homes closer to your right. You were quite strung up in the middle of the road at the entrance to the village, muddy slush up to your mid thighs. You tried to examine your binds pulling against them to test the strength of the rope and quality of the knot. When nothing happened but friction burns biting into your skin you realized you were going to have to cut yourself free.

You couldn't see behind you and with the piercing headache from oxygen deprivation, you couldn't focus on listening very well. Your heart was pounding in your ears so loudly that the white noise of nature and any movement behind you was completely drowned out. You closed your eyes to help your focus, picturing one of the serrated knives you stole days ago. Just as the handle began to form in your hand and hand clamped down on your wrist and it blinked away, not by your doing. Your eyes sprung open and looming above you was a tall man with a grizzled face and dangerous eyes.

He wore a half suit of armour, a long lavish quilted tunic falling past his breast plate to protect his legs. He smiled a nasty sort of smile that if had been standing your knees would have gone weak. He looked cruel. There was a small part of you, behind all the fear that was suddenly rushing forward and taking over, that wondered if this was Kozan. He struck you with the kind of fear the idea of Kozan had, afterall. You ushered that thought from your mind, any older man in House Noro heraldry could be Kozan. You couldn't let yourself succumb to that fear just yet.

"Little trick of my own." He gruffed. His voice was harsh like his throat had been torn up by a wild beast and ever full healed, his words wounded painful. " Similar to one of your men's abilities, although he was blessed with more range than I."

He lifted his hand off of your wrist, the dull purple glow of conjuration flaring up against. Then he placed his hand on your neck and pushed your head up so you were looking at him, you felt the conjuration fading away. You realized he was talking about Shouta and your teeth instantly began to grind, anger seeping through your fear.

"That bastard could have been so fucking helpful in the war." he growled. "Could have done what's right."

Anger roared up inside your chest, like wild flames began to warm and consume you. You clenched your fists tightly and narrowed your eyes. The right thing. Shouta had done the right thing.

"Son of a whore." you hissed. "You murdered innocent people."

"So," The man dropped his head and laughed as if you'd just told a silly joke, it was genuinely entertained. He looked back up at you, a glint of something unnerving in his eyes. "he's told you about me? Hm, you must be important to him, he was cold and mule and deaf mule when I knew him."

You begin to shake under his grip, his lip twitches and you realize he thinks that you're shivering in fear. You're positively livid now, this man had to be Kozan. You're clenching your teeth so hard that you can hear your teeth scraping down on eachother, your knuckles turning white from how hard you're clenching your fists. Your arm twitched, instinctively attempting to throw a punch, but the binds stopped you.

He seems not to notice, or rather elects not to.

"Exterminated. I'm an exterminator of vermin and all beings against nature. It's while God gave me the gift he did." he drums his fingers against your throat. "Murder would imply that the things I exterminate are human."

You grimace at his words. He was sick, deranged.

"That boy you killed- you murdered- was a real piece of shit if I'm totally honest. However, he was a piece of shit born into a long line of hunters of practitioners of the dark arts and-" He ran his thumb over the hollow of your neck absentmindedly, lost in his preachings.

"I know who you are." you spat angrily. "I know who he was."

His hand clamps down on your throat, the other reaching up and pulling your head back by your hair. Your eyes, already swimming with dark spots, blur. You can feel the vein in your forehead bulging and your whole body shaking for air and you think, just for a moment, that this is finally it. And you wished it wasn't so painful.

But then his hand lets go of your throat and you heave it a deep breath, choking and sputtering through a bruised airway. You take the brief moment his hand is away from you to try and conjure a blade but nothing forms as he tugs harder on your hair. You growl in frustration and pain, the contact with your hair must be enough.

"Now, generally speaking, I enjoy a good old hack and slash job." he spoke casually, as if he wasn't violently manhandling you. " And when I got the letter about you it felt like it was below my pay grade, after all you were weak enough to get captured by the local law. So, I Sent a handful of my boys up north to make sure you were dead on execution dayinstead of going myself, but our mutual friend and his fucking mutt had other plans."

You flinched at the mention of Hizashi. It was enough that he hurt Shouta, it was enough that he knew Shouta was involved with you at all, but knowing that hizashi was also on his radar struck fear into you. He cocked his head to the side like an animal hearing something for the first time, his cruel grin growing manic.

"I have it on good authority there is a handsomely sized search effort for you from the ant hill you insects swarm to." He declared, his hand in your hair tugging you along as he emoted. " So now, as retribution for the inconvenience you've caused me for the last six months, I'm taking the liberty to use you as my bait."

You growled. It was a frustrated growl, an angry growl and a sad mournful noise all in one. You had been so sure that you were the only one who would get hurt in this plan. You hadn't thought Toshinori would allow anyone else out of the fortress after you. You had been so sure you'd somehow brought this upon the people of Kaer Yuuie by refusing to die when you were supposed to, by being careless enough to leave the necklace behind, by needing saving in the first place, that you had been fighting some kind of wrong in the week. But now, you'd fed into this monster and his plan and now you were even greater of an endangerment to the people of Kaer Yuuie. Despite yourself you started to cry, humiliated and tears ran down your face.

Kozan grinned at you, a wild unhinged fondness sparking in his eyes. "That's a sight"

Despite his vicious hold on your hair his other hand was gentle as it stroked your cheek, following the trail of tears. You looked away, down at the muddy road and tried to stop crying.His sick enjoyment of your pain making your stomach churn.

"I do need a few things from you before this is all over." He said casually, looking at his wet fingertips. 'For started, where's the fortress."

You laughed at his bluntness.

"Eat shit." you spat.

He raised his free hand in a fist, bringing it down hard across your face. Your head snapped to the side, pulling against the grip he still has on your hair. White sparks flicker across your vision, but you blink them away quickly. Unphased, he moves on.

"Toshinori Yagi, is he there." He asked, calmly.

"Eat shit." you muttered again.

Again he brings his hand down and again your vision sparks white but this time you're sure he broke skin. He shoves your head back into the beam you're bound to and holds it there, the bruised flesh of your scalp crushing into the wood painfully. You winced but kept your reaction to a minimum simply taking a deep breath against the pain. You wanted to cry, you wanted so badly to scream but he would love that and you wanted nothing less than to do him any favors.

"Abilities," He started. "lay them out for me. Who'd out there in the woods, hm?"

"Eat." you spit. "Shit."

Again he brings his hands down, this time you lip bursts. The inside of your mouth fills with blood and you can feel a warm stream trickling down your chin. Both the inside and teh out were busted in just that one hit. Your jaw throbs in time with black spots that filled your vision, pulsing until they became smaller and smaller.

"That loud mutt," you instantly spit blood at him earning a shove against the beam. "what can he do? Logistics."

"Eat-" you didn't get to finish. This time it was several punches, his poised interrogator exterior cracking. Your bleeding heavily now, the dark spots won't go away and one of your eyes down fully open.

Now, you think to yourself, this is it. This is far more painful. You shudder, the only way your head is still being held up with Kozan's fist balled in your hair. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck and let go of your head, letting it fall painfully forward. The small preservationist part of you screams for you to conjure something quickly but your mind is swimming and you can't focus on a clear object.

"Let's start again." he growled, clearly no longer entertained but frustrated now. "Where is the fortress?"

You can't muster any words, you just sloppily spit as much blood towards him through your swollen lips as you can. He rears up for a punch, this time he's not holding onto you so he can use his full force and you brace yourself for unconsciousness. A smaller figure entered your blurred vision just as the punch was about to be thrown and Kozan dropped his fist with a disappointed sigh. You couldn't hear much of what was being said through the blood rushing in your ears but was somewhat relieved when Kozan turned away from you.

"Regretfully," he said in a low voice, more clearly than he's managed to sound all day "I have to cut out time today short. Your friends are causing trouble."

You watched as he walked away, his figure becoming less and less the image of a man but a shrinking blurred smudge and your eyes darken. The sun,still high in the sky, beat down on you. For the second time in your life you were left, bound to rot away under the sun for all to see. You started to cry, miserably and weakly.

CHAPTER 18

You start awake at the feeling of something touching your face, impulsively pulling away. You whimper at the sudden movement, every part of you hurt.

"Hey," a soft, sweet familiar voice like honey whispered. " It's me, it's us."

Your right eye refused to open anymore, and your left was bleary and tear filled. You looked forward, praying to see the face you knew that voice belonged to. When you saw those bright emerald eyes and heavenly flaxen hair your heart sputtered in your chest. You let out a sob, forgetting for a moment how close he was to danger, all you could feel was relief. Behind him you spotted a pale face surrounded in dark curls that faded into the night, tears falling from dark tortured eyes.

Seeing him, his tears and his fear suddenly breathed clarity into you.

"Run." you whimpered.

"No." Hizashi declared, an unusual severity in his voice. "Sho. Bindings."

Shouta blinked hard and rushed towards you, his hand gently found your cheek as Hizashi slipped sideways and pulled out a knife. For a brief second, you could see the valley before you before Shouta filled your vision and it was chaos. There was fire and lightning and flashes of bright orange. Every time the world lit up for a half second you caught sight of clashing blades and blood-soaked armor. A howl shattered the sky around you, an accompanying chorus of screams followed.

"Look at me." Shouta whispered, pulling your face towards him. He was shaking, he was scared. You wanted so badly to reach out to him and to hold him, you take him away from here.

"Who did this to you?" he asks, more to himself than you. He's surprised when you muster an answer.

"K-Kozan." you muttered against his hands. "Run."

Shouta's breath caught in his throat and he froze, rigid as a wooden doll. Even Hizashi pauses for a moment before carelessly tearing through the bindings, knicking your knuckle in the process. You're in too much pain to really notice and he's obviously too upset to either. An arrow whizzes past you and Shouta dangerously close to his head and he's suddenly brought back to reality. He curses and steps forward, catching you as you slump forwards as Hizashi cuts the bindings around your shoulders.

"I'm going to fucking kill him, Sho." Hizashi spat, slashing at the last set of bindings.

"Zash, I know but we have to stay calm." Shouta breathed, clutching you close to his chest. "We're in and out tonight, it's about Y/n tonight."

Hizashi kicked the beam you were stung up on, shaking in fury. He was so angry hot tears streamed down his face, and he threw his knife hard into the distance with a fowl growl. "Next time- fucking dead."

"Okay," Shouta appeased him, shifting your weight around so he could scoop you up. He was looking away from you, purposefully up at the sky or Hizashi. "For now we go."

You forced yourself to look up at Shouta, you needed to keep an eye on him. This was your fault he was here, near them again. Near Kozan. You gripped his tunic weakly and let out a sob, without looking at you he tightened his hold on you

"I-I- sorry-" you choked out. "s-sor-ry."

"Stop." he eventually muttered as he stood with a grunt. "It's not your fault."

"I-I brought him he-" You sobbed.

"Stop." Shouta said again, his voice cracking. "He would have found us eventually. Stop it."

You want to wrap your arms around him, you want to thank him, you want to be lying in bed between the both of them happily peering through the window at the stars. You felt so broken, so weak and tired and you wanted so badly to just rest. Real rest, not tucked away between two rocks for an hour of shallow sleep nor passed out in a snow covered field. Shouta began to move, turning towards the tree line.

Hizashi shouted, the ground shaking for a moment, and then you were blindsided. You hit the ground hard, air rushing from your lungs, the stone filled muddy snow biting into your skin. You gasp for air still reeling for the sheer force you were launched sideways with. You struggle to your knees and look up, adrenaline flooding your system. Everything still hurt, every movement srang tears in your eyes, but you need to find Hizashi and Shouta.

Before you see Shouta, face down in the snow. He's barely moving, his head lifted mere centimeters from the ground, dark red dripping from his forehead. Beyond him, a large horse clattered to a stop in the snow, one of the hoove impressions red with blood. Atop the horse is a rider, struggling to control the horse. The horse gave one good buck and threw the rider forward, clamoring away once it was free of him.

You scramble to the side, out of the horses' path needlessly and a volley of arrows pierced its side. It stumbled and sways and eventually hit the ground hard, falling hard on top of Shouta's legs. He hissed and reached out, trying to find anything to use as leverage to free himself. You start forward on uneasy legs, no sure of what you'll be able to do when you eventually get to him.

Shouta grasps in pain and the horse's body lurches, a dark figure appearing over top of the horse blade draw. In the fiery chaos of the valley you see Kozan as he was always meant to be, a mad man driven by war and chaos. You could see the bloodlust coursing through him as she stood, blade raised and simmering in the flames of war.

"Aizawa!" He bellowed triumphantly.

Shouta began to struggle wildly, he was calm and collected in the face of anything you'd ever seen thrown at him but this broke your heart. You hated this man, you hated him more than anything.you hated what he did to Shouta, what he did to all those people he killed and what he did to you and your life. If there was anyone who deserved hell, it was him. Suddenly the world shifted again, this time it was shattering around you and a high pitched ringing flooded your ears.

Kozan stumbled backwards off of the horse, his eyes wide and dazed. He howled in pain, gripping the sides of his head and he fell. You realized that it must have been Hizashi and took this opportunity to crawl to Shouta's side.

"Run!" Hizashi shouted at a normal volume, rushin forwards to pry Shouta out from under the horse. The two of you pulled him free and you and he collapsed into each other. Together you scrambled towards the trees, neither of your bodies able to carry your weights very well. Hizashi stayed ten paces behind, shouting deadly waves of sound backwards. Shouta's leg caved in with a sickening snap and he pushed you away from him as he slid down into the snow so as not to take you down with him. You slipped and laid but scrambled backwards to him just in time to hear a terrible silence. Hizashi had stopped screaming.

You looked up as you slid into the snow next to Shouta to find Kozan, blade drawn and ripping with blood. He was no more than ten paces behind Shouta, Hizashi falling backwards away from him, clutching his upper chest and neck. Your blood ran cold as blood oozed between Hizashi's fingertips. Kozan swayed on the spot, blood dripping from his ears, the veins in his neck pooled with blood.

With strength you shouldn't have had you dashed forward. You barely had enough time to each Kozan before he brought his blade down again. You crashed into him with all of your weight, if he hadn't been hit directly with Hizahi's sound waves you're sure he could have just shoved you off. You clamoured to the ground with him, his breastplate hitting you hard in the head flooding it with momentary white. Then he was on top of you, straddling your chest, hands wrapped firmly around your throat. The bright white lights from the impact of his breastplate fade down into growing black spots. It was so quick this time, your body and lungs already so tired and weak.

You closed your eyes and focused on the crushing grip around your throat, your hands flying up impulsively to grip his. You wrapped your fingers around this thick gloves...gloves. Hope, flared up in you. Hope in the form of rage.

It was in that growing darkness and burgeoning fury that a spark of brilliant purple came to you, just like it had six months ago in the walls of your home. It was in the form of a great, jagged and cruel. It came with lightning and thunder and the promise of revenge. You let go of Kozan's gloved hands and let your arms fall to your sides as a sharp thunder clasp rocked the earth around you. A loud whistle rang through the valley and suddenly everything was lit up from a single point directly above you. Like a ball of purple flame a great sword plummeted down from the heavens air rushing violently around it. As it got closer the valley got brighter, and for the first time you could see fear in Kozan's eyes. His hands let go of your throat and he looked upwards in awe and fear at the wrath he had brought upon himself. As he looked up, mouth open and scream just about to escape, he met it through the balde met it. From top to bottom Kozan was skewered by the long twisted bade, his blood bubbling out of his mouth and down his body like a waterfall.

It was a sharp pain, being stabbed by the end of the blade. It was shallow but the end of the blade was warped and as Kozan's body slumped to the side the tip of the blade tore through your skin leaving a deep gash between your breasts. You gasped as he fell off of you the great blade blinking from existence as your connection with consciousness faded.

With it the valley was shrouded in what felt like darkness compared to the beacon that was the great blade. You melted into the snow, your body was at its limit and you couldn't bring yourself to even turn your head and look for Shouta or Hizashi.

You stared up into the inky dark sky, silver stars dotting it in an arrangement of bears and bows and great warriors and lonely lovers. Then you saw a flower, glowing like starlight, or perhaps it was still a star blurring with tears. They began to fall, warming your cheeks. You wanted to be back home, looking up at the glowing moonlight flowers, Hizashi stroking your hair and Shouta resting his chin against your chest.

"Hey," it was jagged and pained but still sweet like honey, "where'd you go?"

You smiled tiredly. "Hot spring."

"Finally," Hizashi shifted your head so you were propped up on his lap, his hand running soothingly through your hair. "somewhere warm."

You only vaguely registered Shouta hobbling towards you, as your eyes drooped shut. His warm gruff voice shook as he told you he loved you and you smiled to yourself. You were home, they were home. How lucky you were, you thought to yourself as the world slipped past you, that you got to be with them until the day you died.

[the-wlw-cafe]

Supercorptober - Day 6: Warm

Read it on ao3 here!

There was a biting chill in the air that made Lena shudder the second she disembarked the jet. She pulled her coat tighter around her as her breath turned into puffs of steam before her, clenched her teeth and marched on. She had a five minute walk in front of her, since she hadn’t been able to land anywhere near the ruins of Lex’s old facility, every prospective landing space having been obstructed by rubble.

“Keep the engines running for me?”, she asked her assistant, who gave a brief nod. “I doubt it will take long.”

Just a month ago, she wouldn’t have dared set foot in one of her brother’s secret laboratories without a small private army, but now, several empty, burnt out facilities on every continent later, she’d learnt just how serious her brother had been when he’d said tabula rasa. No witnesses, no survivors, nobody left to tell the tale, and no chance of anyone ever bastardising his tech after his death. And all that was left for Lena was to sift through the ashes, trying to find something, anything, just the tiniest fractions of her brother’s wicked life’s work that she could turn into something good, a small token of atonement for her family’s crimes. She wasn’t particularly optimistic after leaving the last dozen facilities behind empty-handed, it wasn’t likely that this lab located in Kaznia, the last one indicated in her brother’s notes that she’d studied for weeks, would be any different. Still, something compelled her to see this task through – maybe it was the perfectionist in her.

With a brisk pace she made her way towards the ruins, surrounded by a thick layer of black ash that made her march all the more arduous. Lena readily admitted that she wasn’t used to that kind of labour, the controlled environment of her own office had been by far her favourite arena to carry out her battles, but she couldn’t sit idly by and watch Lex’ secrets fall into the hands of corrupt governments or power hungry militias.

This facility looked much like all the others Lena had found, structures having been ground to nothing but scrap and rubble by powerful hidden explosives. The portion of the complex that was of course only a small percentage of its true expanses, the belly of the beast being hidden deep, deep underground. So far she’d been lucky, only having to call in support for the heavy lifting on a number of facilities she could count on one hand. Many others had completely vanished in sinkholes whose diameter could reach up to half a mile. For this one however finding a place to enter might prove more of a challenge, as the time that had passed had seen a heavy layer of both ash and snow cover the whole area. She could vaguely make out the structures commonly found in every one of her brother’s laboratories: The radio tower for intercepting local messages, since Lex was never one to be surprised in his own home. A small hangar, just large enough to hide one single passenger plane. Lena climbed her way over the rubble towards it, since it was built to outlast an outside attack it was the most likely point of entrance to the lower levels. She never made it there, since after just a few steps an odd detail caught her eye: A slab of concrete, in size about as big as a small transporter, propped up against the side of the one side of the lab’s foundations that still stood tall, forming a lean-to-shelter in a way that seemed much to deliberate to be the accidental by-product of an explosion. She stalked closer, her heart pounding heart with trepidation and a morbid sense of excitement – could it be that on her very last expedition she would actually find something worthwhile?

She shone her flashlight into the dark corners of the primitive shelter. Towards the back she could see a small molehill of rubble piled up, and as she inspected it closer, her breath caught.

The hole was no wider than six feet, extending into the ground diagonally, the incline not very steep. Earth and bits of stone had been pushed outwards and to the side. The signs were clear: Something had dug its way outside. Something strong enough to survive the explosion and collapse, and tear its way through metal and concrete alike. Something that might very well be out here still. Lena touched her earpiece.

“Jess?”, she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded despite the tension that was mounting in her. “Jess, I found something. Keep your eyes and ears peeled.” She shut off the communicator before Jess could ask further questions.

Kneeling down to the ground, Lena peered into the small tunnel. She should really call for backup. But there was a nagging, dark curiosity inside her that urged her to go on, to just look a little further, pull the curtains back a few more inches -

A shout, loud, sudden. Lena jumped back with a gasp of surprise, reaching for her gun, eyes darting around frantically for the source of the sound. She didn’t have to look for long, since said source evidently was a young woman, dressed in only grey overalls as if the freezing temperatures outside were nothing but a mild summer’s evening, barefoot in the snow, distress clear on her face. Words were still flowing from her, but Lena didn’t recognize the words, not even the language. It sounded completely alien from any of the dozen languages she’d learnt over the course of her life.

“Who are you?”, Lena asked, and when the woman didn’t react, she tried again in Russian, to little avail. The woman advanced on her and Lena found herself stumbling backwards, raising her heavy flashlight to strike in a last ditch attempt to defend herself. The woman grabbed her arm, and Lena readied herself for a fight. But then, somewhere in the adrenaline-addled depths of her brain something registered. Something about the woman’s voice struck her as odd, and despite the alien language she realised that the woman wasn’t screaming, or yelling – she was pleading. The grip on her forearm wasn’t painful or even overly tight, instead, she notices the woman is pulling her forwards, away from the entrance to the facility. She forces herself to relax, lets the panicked woman scoot her out of the shelter, tries to catch her wild eyes and give her a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay”, she says, even though she’s almost certain the woman doesn’t understand her. Maybe she’ll understand the meaning behind her words nonetheless.

“It’s okay, we’re safe.”

Now that she was thinking more clearly, Lena could actually feel the warmth of the stranger’s skin radiate even through her thick coat and multiple layers of clothing underneath. Lena furrowed her brow. This woman’s body temperature had to be scalding – but she didn’t look feverish at all! There was no sluggishness to her movement, her eyes, while still darting around wildly, were focused and not glassy, she didn’t even seem to mind the cold. Without really thinking, Lena raised her free hand to cup the woman’s forehead, reading her temperature like she could distantly remember her mother doing on awful nights filled with fitful sleep and tentative bites of pretzel sticks despite her aching stomach. At least it seemed to still the erratic movements of the blonde, who looked at her in confused surprise, before she exhaled a cute puff of air through her nose and closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. She really was burning up. When Lena retracted her hand, she almost seemed to pout.

“I’m just taking your temperature, silly”, she said, and playfully swatted against the woman’s chest. Her chest, were she only now recognized the stylised L emblazoned.

Property of LuthorCorp.

She swallowed hard at the reminder of her brother, disgust curdling in her stomach as she added one more heinous crime to the dozen others he’d committed. Property.

“Come on”, she said, coaxing the woman to come along with a gentle touch on her upper arm, while she activated her earpiece with the other hand.

“Jess?”

“Already finished, Miss Luthor?” The I told you so remained unspoken yet clearly

“Something like that. I’ll be arriving soon, please prep the med bay until then.”

“The med bay? Miss Luthor, are you hurt?” All sense of smugness was immediately wiped from her assistants voice and replaced with worry.

“No, I’m fine. Jess, you won’t believe it, but I’ve found a survivor.”

When she was done giving Jess her instructions, she found the woman staring at her intently, head cocked to the side in a way that reminded Lena of a curious puppy.

“What is it?”, she asked. Maybe it was an exercise in futility, but language barrier or not, this woman was a human person, and she’d rather speak to her as an equal than drag her along.

“Kara”, the woman said, slowly, deliberately, in the same way a preschool teacher would spell a new word for their class.

“I don’t know what you mean”, Lena said, raising her hands helplessly.

“Ka-ra”, the blonde intonated again, laying a hand on her chest. And oh, of course.

“Lena”, she replied, indicating back to herself, and this small gesture alone seemed to fill the woman, Kara, with boundless joy.

“Lena”, she parroted, sounding the word out on her lips.

“Come on, Kara”, Lena said, not even trying to hold back her smile, “lets get you out of the cold.”

As downright chipper as she was outside, Lena could see that behaviour instantly evaporate the second she lead Kara to the med bay. Her entire demeanour changed from cheerful to obviously frightened as Lena gently pushed her to sit down on the examination chair, her eyes darting towards the exit every few second. Lena took Kara’s hands in hers and started murmuring quiet encouragements again, and it seemed to help the woman relax a little bit. She eyed Jess suspiciously as she approached with the fever thermometer, so Lena took it from her assistant’s hands in order to make Kara more comfortable.

“Open you mouth”, she prompted, and after being met with as little response as she respected, she demonstrated to Kara what she wanted her to do, feeling altogether very silly. It didn’t help that she could clearly hear Jess giggling at her antics. At least Lena didn’t remain at the centre of her attention for too long, because the second the thermometer touched Kara’s tongue the woman decided to bite down, hard. The thermometer splintered between her teeth like a dry twig.

“Shit, shit, shit”, Lena chanted as she frantically searched for a tissue to wipe off the blood, but when she turned back to Kara there was no blood to be seen, only the woman’s apologetic grin and as she sheepishly mumbled “it’s okay?”. Lena looked to Jess in utter bewilderment, and Jess looked right back, equally stunned. For all the disappointments the previous facilities had wrought, this mystery more than made up for it.

This moment didn’t prove to be a fluke, as Kara took to the English language with a speed and skill that would make several so-called geniuses turn green with envy – Lena should know, she was one of those. In a span of hours, they were able to hold rudimentary conversations with her, supplemented by a lot of wild gesturing. In a strange way, it reminded Lena of a frantic round of charades, especially with how much fun Kara seemed to be having, now that she’d warmed up to Jess. Her assistant in turn was definitely having far too much fun, especially as the fiendish delight she reacted with when Kara told her that her eyes were pretty prompted the woman to add pretty when you turn red like this. If Lena hadn’t been to busy trying to hide her embarrassment she’d have sent Jess the most murderous of glares.

“So, what is down there?”, Lena asked.

Kara made an adorable hrrm? sound, turning away from Jess to whom she’d been pantomiming the animals she’d encountered in the tundra surrounding the complex in order to learn their names.

“What is down there?”, Lena repeated, gesturing in the vague direction of the ruins. As if a switch was flipped, Kara seemed to shut down on the spot.

“No”, she implored, “no, no no. Don’t go there.”

“It’s okay, I just want to know”, Lena tried to comfort her, but it obviously didn’t work.

“Not okay. Don’t go. Don’t go there”, Kara insisted, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was only feeling the cold now.

“Okay, okay, I won’t go”, Lena said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Don’t worry, I won’t go there.”

She and Jess exchanged looks as Kara slowly calmed down. They both knew Lena was lying through her teeth.

She’d put her coat back on, replaced the batteries in her flashlight, taken her compass and a signal flare. It was still dark out, after Kara had finally fallen asleep sometime around 2AM, curled up across two passenger seats and a soft quilt draped over her, even though she’d insisted she didn’t need it. From the way she’d curled herself up in it it seemed that she at least appreciated the comfort. She’d looked peaceful slumbering there, cute almost, and it did make Lena feel bad about what she was about to do. Well, chances were that she was setting herself up for another disappointment, finding the bowels of the facility burnt out and blackened, and she’d be back before Kara even knew she was gone. She had to see it through. Lena took a deep breath, reached for the exit hatch, and -

“Lena.”

It was her. Her hair was still wild from sleep, and the quilt was caped over her shoulder like a cape. She wasn’t upset, or even angry. At this moment, Kara just looked tired and resigned.

“Don’t go.”

“Kara, I have to. It’s all I’ve been doing, all I’ve been thinking about for months. I have to finish it.”

“I stop you.”

It wasn’t a threat, just a statement of fact. No fight was left in Kara’s eyes. There was just resolution, the same resolution Lena had seen reflected in the mirror on the day she’d decided to find whatever was left of her family’s legacy and turn it into a force for change, for good.

“Kara, I know whatever was down there was used to hurt you, and I understand why you’re scared, but I need to make sure nobody else gets hurt. I need to turn it into a tool to help people.”

“It can’t help! No help, only hurt. No use. Just hurt.”

When she met Kara’s eyes again, Lena suddenly felt suffocated by the pain she could see in them, enough pain that even a fraction would be enough to bring any person to their knees. She looked back over her shoulder, where she could see the cold, empty blackness of the tundra in a starless night. The knowledge that there might be something buried there, calling out to her to find it seemed to eat away at her.

“Please”, Kara breathed, and Lena could feel her arm, still outstretched towards the hatch, fall limply at her side. Kara rushed towards her in a flash, to quick for her eyes to follow, and before her brain could catch up Lena found herself enveloped in a hug. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever been hugged. It felt safe, somehow, Kara’s unwavering presence keeping her grounded, and it filled her heart with a warmth she hadn’t known before.

Maybe some things deserve to be – and stay – buried.

[raendown]

I was bribed in to this by @rookie-d and @sleepysenseis and I regret nothing. Show some love to Rookie’s art for this au as well!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1893 Rated: G Summary: Owning and running a bakery with his husband isn't exactly where he thought life would take him but Tobirama wouldn't trade this for the world.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Patissier-pation Award

The familiar chime of a bell greeted him first as he walked through the front door, eyes down to inspect the mail he had gathered on his way in. Mostly junk, a couple of bills, and a letter that he would bet his entire bank account had come from Hashirama. He would know those graceless spiky letters anywhere. Off on some nature retreat for the past month, there was little doubt this letter would be filled with the same rambling nonsense as the last one had been, lengthy descriptions of the woman he had apparently fallen in love with at first sight. 

Under the hum of halogen lights and the ever present smell of baked goods Tobirama could hear a slight groaning sound that made him smile. Instead of going to look for the source right away he continued to flip through the mail until he had sorted junk from bills, slipping behind the till counter to put everything in its right place. Running their own shop was hard work some days but always worth it in the end. While he was there he tidied a few receipts from the day before and used a nearby rag to wipe off a bit of icing probably smeared around by a customer’s child. Only when he was satisfied that everything was in order did he finally turn to look at the plush couch set just a little ways apart from the rest of the seating area. During peak hours the various armchairs and stools were usually filled with people taking a few minutes to enjoy the treats they had just purchased. 

Since right now was not peak hours the only person to be found was Madara, stretched out across the couch that Tobirama had quietly purchased just for moments like these. A fond smile touched his lips as he watched his favorite idiot rub at a full belly with furrowed brows. 

“How many of those tarts actually made it on to the shelves?” Tobirama called out to him with a lightly scolding tone. 

“Most of them!” Madara shot back. Then he groaned again while both hands paused to delicately cup his stomach. “I could have sworn I only ate a few. Just to taste test. Quality checking is important!” 

“I see.”

The argument might have been a bit more believable if Madara didn’t use the same one every time he overindulged in his own products. He was the one who initially came up with the idea for the two of them to open their own bakery and Tobirama supposed he should have known then that doing so would lead to regular episodes like this one. His husband was an amazing patissier but he was also his own biggest fan. Or his stomach was, at least, and Madara had never been known for denying whatever his stomach wanted. 

“Did you by any chance happen to find time to finish the Sarutobi order before you took your little snack break?” 

“Of course I did,”’ Madara huffed. Generously sacrificing one hand for a moment, he pointed imperiously towards the order counter where there indeed were three boxes with the shop logo printed on the front stacked neatly together and tied with ribbon. Inside there would be a dozen cupcakes each with, if Tobirama was remembering currently, blue icing and rainbow sprinkles arranged to spell out the recipient’s name. A fairly simple order. He wasn’t surprised Madara had finished the whole thing while he was gone, though he was surprised there had been enough time left over to gorge on the tarts he’d put in the oven before he left. 

Since he trusted his partner Tobirama didn’t offer the insult of going to check the order. Instead he mentally checked it off his list of things to do before heading in to the back to go wash his hands. There was still another order he needed to get a start on, although most of it would have to be finished tomorrow. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t have enough icing until their shipment arrived the next morning. 

A quick peek in to the fridge on his way by confirmed his suspicions. Although they still had a tub each of pink and white, yellow was running low and the red was all but entirely gone. If he tried to decorate anything he might have enough to use red for a couple of accents but certainly not enough to cover several dozen cookies in the pattern the order called for. It was a good thing all this wasn’t due to be picked up until late tomorrow. 

Hands clean, Tobirama tied an apron around his middle and began pulling out the ingredients necessary for making his specialty gingerbread, one of the quickest selling items on their menu every winter. When he was younger he never would have believed that life would take him here. As a child he’d mostly been obsessed with science and little else. Most of his career dreams had centered around NASA or biochemical research, plans for changing the world with his magnificent discoveries. Now he co-owned a bakery with his husband and spent most of his days rolling dough or decorating cakes, all in between manning the till and watching children’s faces light up as they picked out which treat they wanted to take home. It was hardly the auspicious career he’d always imagined but it was a good life, full and happy, one that he wouldn’t trade for anything. Not even for the trips to outer space he used to dream about. 

So lost in his own musings was he that it felt as though he’d only just begun mixing the dough when he looked down and found row upon row of perfectly shaped cookies all laid out before him. Some were made to look like people, some like trees, and others still were laid out in thick flat sheets with which he would later build a house. Gingerbread was always quite fun to work with. A quick count told him that he already had everything he needed as well as a couple of spares in case one or two of them burnt in the oven yet there was still just a bit of dough left over.

With a whimsical smile he reached for his tools again and began to shape a new pair of cookies.

Baking gingerbread didn’t take all that long, almost as much time as it took for them to cool once they were back out of the oven, and as he packaged everything to keep it safe for tomorrow he set his final two creations aside. It may have been a whim but he’d never sent anything out of this kitchen that hadn’t received his full effort and he wasn’t about to now. There was, after all, just enough red icing left - not to mention plenty of black. 

Madara was still draped across the couch in the front shop when Tobirama came out to check on him, one of their fancier order boxes in hand. The bellyache appeared to have passed and instead pulled the man down in to a light food coma. Long dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks when Tobirama bent to stroke one of them, rousing his husband from what looked to a very peaceful if possibly undeserved nap. 

“Mnng? I wasn’t asleep.”

“Your snoring tells another story.” 

“T-that wasn’t snoring! I was just humming a song under my breath!” 

Lifting one eyebrow, Tobirama shook his head. “Mhm, very convincing.” 

“Shut up! What’s that? I didn’t think we had anything else going out today. Did I forget something?” Madara frowned and his eyes grew distant as he went over their orders for the week in his head. 

Rather than let him suffer Tobirama simply placed the box in his lap. 

“You forgot to greet me properly when I came back from running errands but I’ll forgive you for that just this once. These are for you, if you’ve still got room in your belly.” 

“Oh?” 

Always intrigued by the promise of more sweets, Madara plucked at the edge of the box to pull the tab keeping it closed out of its slot. He lifted the lid with an almost childish expression of anticipation that morphed in to a graceless full-mouthed gawk when he spotted the gift inside. Much to Tobirama’s horror, he caught sight of what looked to be tears gathering in his husband’s eye.

“Is that...us?” 

“Yes it is.”

“We’re holding hands. And you gave yourself a little fur collar just like your favorite jacket!” 

Tobirama rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He really liked that jacket. “A little extra detail never hurt anyone,” he murmured as though in protest. 

He was mortified to see Madara cradle the cookies in one palm so he could use his other hand to gently stroke the little red icing lines marking where Tobirama had tattooed his own face during a rebellious youth. The number of times Madara had given those marks the same gentle attention were uncountable and it never failed to draw a little color in to his cheeks, embarrassed that his heart could be so softened by such a simple gesture. 

“Just eat them and go back to moaning about your belly,” he grumbled even as he leaned in to the touch. Madara huffed at him in amusement. 

“What brought this on, hm? I feel like I’m being rewarded for something.” 

“It was a whim and nothing more.” 

Something about that seemed the right thing to say as Madara puffed up like he’d been complimented, as though being gifted cookies made out of leftover dough were the greatest gesture of love. 

“Thinking about me, were you?” his husband asked with a sly undertone. 

“I am always thinking of you,” Tobirama admitted. It was true so he saw no reason to deny it. 

Madara blinked once. “Oh. Well...I’m always thinking of you too. So there!” 

Both of them blushing and flustered, two silly little gingerbread men still held ever so carefully in one of Madara’s palms, Tobirama was eternally grateful there were no customers in the shop to witness the disgustingly sweet scene they were surely making. With a rough clearing of his throat he pulled away and cast his eyes anywhere else in the room. 

“Right,” he said gruffly, “eat your cookies. I’m going to go take inventory so we can call in another supply order tomorrow.” Spinning on his heel relieved him of the sight of his beloved husband cradling such precious if silly gifts but it did not spare him the sound of a quiet voice trailing after his rapid footsteps. 

“I love you.” 

Tobirama wrinkled his nose against the wave of mushy feelings in his chest until the urge to turn around and throw himself down on the couch with his partner had faded. He stepped out with purpose, with dignity, with every intention of going to make himself useful for the rest of the afternoon. But he did pause in the doorway to the kitchen long enough to turn his head to one side. 

“Love you too,” he murmured. 

It felt like capitulation but, then, Madara had already won his heart many years before and the life they’d built together would always be sweeter than any treat he could bake for himself. 

[flowerfan2]

Private Time - Chapter Two

Klaine, M, 4k, A03. Summary:  One thing about being in quarantine with your grad school roommates... you hardly get any private time...

Wow, the reaction to this fic has blown me away.  Thank you so much to everyone who reblogged and commented.  It’s wonderful to feel the Klaine love.

And since you asked so nicely, here is chapter two!

Chapter 2

Kurt Hummel prides himself on being able to survive just about anything, from small town bigots to drama school divas.  But this quarantine thing is really getting to him.

It’s not that he has any problems with his roommates, far from it.  He’s known Rachel since high school, and his fondness for her more than balances his aggravation.  Sweet and goofy Sam became part of their trio of friends last year when Kurt had thought about starting a band, and Sam had shown up at the audition.  While the band didn’t take off, Kurt will never forget Sam’s rendition of “Nothing On But The Radio.”  Priceless.

But then there’s Blaine. Even thinking about the guy makes Kurt go weak in the knees.  It’s not like Kurt to be so affected by a pretty face, even one peeking out from under wet curls as he scoots down the hall after his evening shower with just a towel wrapped low around his hips.  Kurt prides himself on his restraint when it comes to opening up to the possibility of romance, but with Blaine, it has been a challenge.

It started with that damn a capella benefit Rachel dragged him to.  As if he needed to spend an evening watching preppy kids grinning at each other while they sang poorly re-arranged pop tunes.  “It’s for a good cause, Kurt,” Rachel had argued.  “And it’s not just the college groups. Everyone at the university can participate.  I would be performing, too, if I wasn’t saving my voice.”

 And so an hour into a dreadfully dull evening of twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school musical glory days, Kurt had his first experience of nearly losing his mind over Blaine Anderson.  Amidst a sea of mediocrity, Blaine came on stage and performed Sondheim’s <i>Not While I’m Around</i> without accompaniment.  Kurt felt like he was coming apart.  He was so wrecked that he left the theater immediately after Blaine’s performance and spent the rest of the evening stalking around campus, furious with himself for losing his cool.

 That night while his roommates were still out, Kurt indulged himself in a way he hadn’t done in ages. First a lavender scented bubble bath, then a long solo session in between fresh, clean sheets.  It was okay to fantasize about Blaine Anderson, he was just a guy on a stage, Kurt didn’t know him from Adam (and he was way, way hotter than Adam with or without his Apples).  Kurt found himself humming “nothing’s gonna harm you, no sir” halfway through and didn’t even censor himself, reveling in the thought that his fantasy Blaine would protect him from all the demons of the world.

 After that, Kurt felt like he saw the guy everywhere – ducking out of the campus coffee shop, running in the early morning chill, giving Sam a warm hug before they parted ways after class.  Kurt had sort of known that Sam was bringing Blaine to see his performance of Macbeth, but had managed to block it out until afterwards, when Sam trotted backstage with Blaine on his heels.  Blaine’s shy smile and soft blush when he offered Kurt his congratulations had rendered him nearly speechless.

 And then the unthinkable happened.  They had held off on finding a fourth person to share the rent for several months, mostly because Rachel thought that sharing their single decent shower with two guys was as much as she could stand, but money was tight for all of them and it seemed silly to let the room stay empty.  Before they had even had a chance to advertise the vacancy Sam came home one afternoon with Blaine, announced that he had found them a perfect flatmate, and started giving Blaine the tour.  Kurt had nearly choked on his skinny margarita.

 There wasn’t much time to dwell on his crush before the quarantine, but now, Blaine is everywhere. Kurt tries to count how many different black polo shirts the man has, just to prove himself he could look but still retain a modicum of brain power, but he fails miserably.  Instead his eyes keep sliding down to where Blaine shirt’s is tucked around his slender waist, just before his red pants curve over the best ass Kurt has ever seen.  

 When Rachel announces her <i>private time</i> plan Kurt immediately knows what she is up to. If Sam and Blaine knew her better, they would have caught on faster as well – since when did Rachel Berry mind if anyone heard her sing?  It’s a lame cover-up, but before Kurt can open his mouth and say so, he realizes how useful Rachel’s plan could be.  So he stands up, smooths his hands down over his pants, and high-tails it upstairs to the privacy of his room before his pants get even tighter.

 That first night, Kurt doesn’t have any intention of participating.  He’s feeling rather superior, if he is honest with himself. Suddenly randy Rachel and lack of self-control Sam may be taking care of business, but Kurt Hummel doesn’t need any of that.  He puts on his headphones, pulls out an old voice lesson journal, and goes through some exercises himself.  Rachel may have been joking about the need for private rehearsal time, but Kurt is nothing if not career focused, and he hasn’t had much of an opportunity for honing his craft lately either.

 After he finishes the exercises in his journal, Kurt gets out his phone and some earbuds – he’s got some vocal tracks on his phone which split the parts, the lead coming through on one side and the harmony parts on the other. Just as he’s finding the track he wants to start on and fiddling with the left earbud, which for some unknowable reason keeps falling out of his ear, he hears a long, low moan.

 Kurt freezes, earbud dangling from his hand.  It’s Blaine, that much is obvious from the direction of the sound, and from the fact that it seems to be coming from right next to him, where only a wall divides his room from Blaine’s.  Somehow that one drawn-out expression of need has shot right through him, sparking through his entire body.  Kurt feels light-headed and almost forgets to breathe.

 Overwhelmed, Kurt panics. He scrambles to grab the noise-cancelling headphones and clamp them over his ears, and dives under his duvet.  It’s too much, and it’s inappropriate to think about, but at the same time it’s impossible not to imagine.  It’s Blaine, with his hand on his private parts, making that incredibly sexy noise just a few feet away from Kurt.  Kurt is never going to make it through this quarantine.

 By the next morning Kurt has regained his equilibrium.  He spends most of the day firmly (but not <i>firmly,</i> Kurt thinks, bad word choice, sternly, yes, very sternly, god that’s hardly better, hardly, stop it, I’m dying, I’m being slain by my own internal monologue) telling himself that he is not going to participate any further in Rachel’s ridiculous plan.  Tomorrow, their next scheduled private time night, Kurt will simply go for a walk. Walking is good for him, he could use the exercise and fresh air, and he doesn’t do it nearly as much as he should. He’ll even wear the new mask he made from a Prada dust bag (there’s no need to abandon style, just because there’s a pandemic).

 But on Thursday night when he tells Rachel he’s going out she cackles at him like she’s auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the West, and points with a shaking finger to the window. It’s raining, a veritable deluge. Kurt growls at her and goes upstairs.

 Fine.  It’s all fine.  He can do this.  It’s nothing to feel shameful about, even if everyone in the house knows he’s doing it. They’re all doing it too.  

 Kurt lights a candle (sandalwood), finds some of the expensive body lotion he saves for special occasions, and makes himself comfortable.  Soon his thoughts are wandering to how a certain someone looked this morning, sitting out on the back porch with Sam.  They had both been fooling around on their guitars, and Sam was teasing Blaine about how his hair kept falling into his eyes.  Sam had even reached out and pushed an errant, gel-free curl away from Blaine’s face…

 That should have been Kurt. He would have waited until Blaine finished playing a gentle love song (“the things you do endear me to you, ah you know I will… I will”) and looked up expectantly at him, a hesitant smile on his face.  Kurt would have leaned close to Blaine, seeing his long lashes flutter as he softly pressed his palm to Blaine’s smooth cheek.  Kurt would have threaded his fingers through Blaine’s dark hair, and they would have laughed together, barely audible to anyone else, and then Kurt would have pulled Blaine in for a breathtaking, awe-inspiring first kiss.

 Kurt climaxes with an unexpected grunt, and then presses his face into his pillow.  That was embarrassingly fast, even for a fantasy.  He’s going to have to do better.  At least he needs to get to the part where he can grab Blaine’s ass in his hands and give it a good squeeze.  Who knows what kind of noises Blaine might make when his ass is fondled just right.  Kurt might even have to think about sliding those tight red pants down over Blaine’s luscious curves, moving his hands up and down and around, letting his fingers explore and press in…

 Kurt realizes he’s getting hard again, and much to his dismay, he soon goes for round two like a horny teenager.  

 It rains all day on Friday, and Saturday morning is equally gloomy, ruining their plans to make lunch and take it to campus for an appropriately socially distant picnic. Sam comes up with an alternate plan that involves bartering for a packet of yeast (the sister of one of his rugby mates thought ahead and purchased large quantities from a restaurant supply store) and making homemade bread, and Blaine sunnily agrees to bike to the other side of town to pick it up.  Kurt volunteers some of his masks to use as a trade, and by noon, they are all assembled in the kitchen, ready to start their day’s project.

 Kurt has made bread a million times (okay, maybe just two or three), so they all look to him for guidance. It turns out to be way more fun than Kurt had expected, even more so when he keeps catching Blaine looking at him shyly from under those ridiculously long lashes.  When they all start giggling at the mess they’ve made and Blaine reaches out and tries to wipe flour off of Kurt’s nose, Kurt thinks he’s never been happier.

 That night they eat their bread with the remains of various cheeses and drink more wine than Kurt had thought they had left in the house.  He’s feeling loose and safe in his skin when Blaine flops down on the couch next to him, holding out a bowl of strawberries.  “These go great with the bread,” Blaine says, which is what they’ve been saying about everything they have eaten that night.

 Kurt doesn’t argue and pops a strawberry in his mouth.  “Yeah, they do.”

 Blaine focuses his big brown eyes on Kurt, and then leans in and draws his finger just along the edge of Kurt’s mouth, making him shiver.

 “Powdered sugar,” Blaine explains, and then shuffles even closer to Kurt on the couch.  It’s like he’d done earlier today, but this time his voice comes out in a caramel draped baritone.  “You’ve got a little here, too.”  Blaine touches a fingertip to Kurt’s cheek, and then then blushes furiously and lets his hand drop.

 Kurt can’t resist, Blaine is simply too enticing.  Blaine’s done all the hard work anyway, his blush speaking as eloquently as any Shakespeare sonnet.  “I think you’ve still got flour in your hair,” Kurt says, reaching out and twining a curl around his finger.  It’s just as soft as he imagined, and Blaine lets out a little sigh in response and leans his head into the touch.  

 Kurt takes a deep breath, his whole body trembling.  Blaine’s eyes rise to meet his, and Kurt cups Blaine’s cheek and pulls Blaine in for a kiss.

 It’s better than his fantasy, of course it is.  Blaine tastes of strawberries and wine, his stubble scrapes ever so gently against Kurt’s skin, and he’s warm and alive under Kurt’s hand.  They move closer on the couch, knees and thighs and shoulders pressing against each other.  Blaine’s tongue darts out to trace Kurt’s lips, and then Kurt opens his mouth and the kiss deepens, harder and gentler in turns, until Kurt forgets that anything else exists in the world except for this.

 When they finally part, breathless and wide eyed, Rachel and Sam have disappeared.  Kurt glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s after eleven.  Blaine’s glance follows his, and then he beams at Kurt, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes.

 “It’s private time,” Blaine says, and Kurt blinks at him, momentarily confused.  The earnest expression on Blaine’s face sure doesn’t look like he’s interesting in putting an end to their not-so-solo activities, and either does the hand he’s holding out to Kurt.

 “Care to accompany me?”

[peraltasames]

if devotion is a river then i’m floating away

anonymous: If you’re still taking prompts: Jake/Amy period comfort fic (cause I girl is suffering with these cramps)

in which i project my (and evidently this anon’s and prob everyone’s) desires to have my own jake peralta take care of me while i’m on my period into a fic! 💕 title from ‘love you for a long time’ by maggie rogers ✨

read on ao3

The worst part is Amy was really excited for date night.

(Admittedly, that’s the second-worst part. The worst part is definitely the awful pain in her abdomen that hasn’t relented even after a long, hot bath and a Midol.)

Still, she was really looking forward to whatever romantic activities Jake planned for the evening (or completely unromantic, she would honestly take hot dogs from the cart near his place and making out on his old, musty couch). She hasn’t seen him - properly seen him, outside of work - all week due to an insane caseload for both of them.

Incidentally, spending an entire week without your boyfriend sucks a lot more than it normally would when you just spent six months without him.

The last thing she wants is to cancel their plans, but she can’t even bring herself to get dressed, let alone go to dinner or a movie. Begrudgingly, she sends him a quick text before going to scrounge herself dinner from whatever’s in the fridge.

Sorry babe, I think I have to take a rain check on tonight. Bad cramps. I’ll call you tomorrow xo

After a very underwhelming dinner of a few saltine crackers and half a banana, Amy makes her way to the couch and turns on a home renovation show, hoping it will distract her from the perfect night she was supposed to be having with Jake.

Just before the big reveal of the couple’s newly-renovated San Fransisco townhouse, a sharp knock on her door forces her to drag herself off the couch. Expecting an Amazon delivery person or a neighbour asking her to collect their mail or something along those lines of banality, Amy sighs and swings open the door.

She’s not expecting Jake, wearing the suit that she only gets to see on fancy date nights, precariously balancing several paper bags in his arms.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” she exclaims, taking one of the bags from him before he drops it.

“Bringing supplies, duh,” Jake replies, striding past her to dump the rest of the stuff on the table. “From the drugstore - Midol, Advil, tampons. Chocolate and tea from the grocery store. And-” He gestures to the bag she’s holding. “That one’s dinner.”

She opens the bag and the unmistakable scent of pierogis floods her senses. Oh, he’s scoring major boyfriend points for this one.

“Jake, this is so sweet, I-” Her eyes flit down to his suit again and then widen immediately with concern. “Crap, did you not get my text before you left to pick me up? I really thought I would’ve caught you in time.”

“Oh, I left early to pick these up before our date.” Jake grins, pulling a bouquet of roses from the remaining mystery bag, walking them over to her. In a terrible attempt at a posh British accent, he adds, “For you, my dear.”

Some combination of Jake’s warm gaze and soft smile and this big romantic gesture makes Amy’s eyes begin to well with tears beyond her control.

Jake carefully places the flowers back down on the table, his brows knitting together as he rubs her upper arms gently. “What’s wrong, Ames?”

“Nothing, I just-“ She shakes her head. “You’re here and I missed you so much and I feel like we’ve barely seen each other since you got back and I just - it’s probably just hormones.”

She wipes her eyes and attempts to laugh it off, but Jake looks at her with complete sincerity and reaches upward to gently cup her face in his hands. She melts into his touch, so warm and familiar even after all this time apart.

“I missed you too.”

He leans in to kiss her and she meets him halfway, slowly rising up to her tiptoes so she has better access. She gradually, reluctantly pulls away, pecking his lips quickly before lowering herself and looping her arms around his neck.

“You know, you really didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” he assures her, rubbing her forearm. “I wasn’t just going to let you sit at home feeling crappy by yourself.”

Amy smiles, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “You’re the sweetest.”

“It was also cause I wanted to see you, though, so it’s like fifty-percent for selfish reasons.”

She rolls her eyes and leans in to kiss him again, but a sharp pain in her lower abdomen makes her recoil and grab her stomach.

“You okay?” Jake asks quickly, his hands moving to steady her. She nods, leaning into him for support. “Why don’t you get settled in on the couch with those pierogis and I’ll go get changed into couch-appropriate clothes?”

Amy smiles and lets him lead her to the couch, placing the takeout bag and a couple of plates in front of her before disappearing to her bedroom for a moment. She manages to devour half of her portion of food in the time it takes for him to change and return, wearing sweats and a t-shirt from the designated Jake drawer in her dresser. It’s yet another reminder of the silliness of their disagreement over whose apartment to move into - sure, she loves her place and it’s indisputably better than his, but she would take that tiny, unsafe, dirty apartment if it meant coming home to this every night.

She shifts over on the couch to make room for him to join her and he plops down next to her, forking over a few of his pierogis from the container onto her plate when he notices she’s nearly finished.

“Sorry this isn’t the romantic evening you had planned,” Amy says once they’re done eating, placing her empty plate on the coffee table and leaning into his side.

“Nah, this is like, the most romantic night ever,” Jake mumbles against her hair, and she can’t detect even a hint of sarcasm. “I wish you didn’t feel gross, though. Is there anything I can do?”

Amy thinks for a moment. “You could grab my heating pad from the hallway closet? It’s on the top shelf.”

“On it.”

Jake springs to his feet and returns with the soft grey heating pad, which she can see he’s already turned on to warm up for her. Amy immediately slaps it on her stomach, appreciating the instant relief.

“Anything else, m’lady?”

Already laying down and curling up into the most comfortable position possible right now, Amy nods and pats the space behind her. “You can spoon me while we watch that documentary I was talking about on the history of American spelling bees.”

Jake complies without missing a beat (their usual bets and competitions to decide who gets to pick the movie are put on hold whenever one of them isn’t feeling well) and slides into the space behind her on the couch, immediately wrapping his arms around her.

As soon as she selects the title on Netflix she shifts further into his embrace. As much as she has science to thank for the invention of Midol, she’s always doubly grateful for her boyfriend around this time of the month. Without fail, from the very early stages of their relationship, he’s always been there to give her a back rub or stop at the store to buy her tampons or comfort her during one of her hormone-fuelled breakdowns.

It’s incredibly unfair, she thinks, that she had to endure six months of these emotional breakdowns - made exponentially worse by his absence - without him there to hold her and kiss her hair and tell her it would be okay. There’s a lot of injustice in the world, though, and at least the universe seems to be trying to make amends by granting her perfect moments like these, where all the pain fades away and all she can focus on is his arms wrapped around her.

She can feel him rubbing her back gently with one hand while the other pulls her hair out of the way to lay a kiss on her shoulder, and involuntary goosebumps cover her skin.

“Thank you for coming over,” she whispers, already beginning to feel drowsy from the medication and the relaxation Jake’s presence brings, despite the riveting documentary they’re watching. “I missed this. Missed you.”

She’s yet to find the limit to the number of times she can tell him that since he’s come home. If it’s anywhere near the amount of times she thought about how badly she longed to hear his voice or feel his touch again while he was gone, she figures she must still have thousands of ‘I missed you’s waiting to be said.

“You saw me yesterday, clingy much?” Jake teases, one of his signature attempts to lighten the mood, but his hand still reaches for hers and tightly interlocks their fingers.

“Not what I meant,” Amy quips.

“I know, babe.” He lays another feather-light kiss to her shoulder. “Me too.”

She continues to revel in the feeling of his warm breath against the back of her neck and his gentle kneading of her lower back, the intimate attention and overall feeling of safety slowly coaxing her to sleep.

Perhaps he can sense that she’s fighting to stay awake, to spend as many waking hours with him as possible, because he whispers “sleep, Ames” against the shell of her ear.

“I love you,” she murmurs, pulling his arm tighter around her before giving in to the lure of sleep.

Jake carefully grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over both of them, burying his face in her hair once he’s situated.

“I love you.”

[juncottonluvbot]

Close isn't close enough

Baekhyun x reader

fluffy

A/N: Hello!! Thank you for liking my last writing, your feedback it’s what motivated me to write this! (though due to internet issues it took longer than needed…)

Baekhyun is a naturally cuddly person and that’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with a little cuddling between friends right? That is if it weren’t for the butterflies in your stomach every time your best friend decides to cling to you like a koala for the next few hours. Everyone you’d told of your cuddling sessions to had told you that that’s not how friends usually act, “especially not friends of opposite genders”, but what do they know? You held hands with and hugged other friends too, not as much as with Baekhyun of course, but that’s just because he is your best friend. Of course, you had come to think there was something more to your relationship with Baekhyun some time ago, there was just something about how he had carefully taken off your shoes and socks, then your outer layers of clothing one day after you had a particularly tough week and couldn’t even think for yourself, you can still remember his gentle nudging towards the bathroom and the sound of his light giggles as he said that the door was as far as he’d get you, the two of you also cuddled that day, though it was far more intimate than usual, but maybe it was just the setting of you both in your bed and your wet hair against the pillow that made it different for you. There was also Baekhyuns slight protective nature towards you, usually disguised as a joke on your tiny age difference but sometimes with a more serious tone and calls for you to take care of yourself better, along with some heart filling commentary of things like “no one can hurt my (y/n), ok? Not even you, so you need to stop being so naive, I can’t protect you all the time”. A while ago you had managed to convince yourself that he liked you back, there seemed to be enough evidence so maybe he was just afraid you didn’t feel the same, right? So you decided to do the confessing yourself, nothing wrong with that, Baekhyun was known for crushing on more confident women anyways, so why not? But when you finished revising your speech, just to discard it completely and choose to speak from your heart, seeing as the speech you’d written was cheesy at best and demanding Baekhyuns liking at worse, you decided to pick up your phone to mess around a little bit before going to bed, planning on confessing the day after. The first post you saw as you opened Instagram was enough to delude you completely, the picture was of Baekhyun and a girl faces close together and a cute caption, “Just out and about with the girlfriend”. Girlfriend? People who are dating most certainly don’t have crushes on their best friends and so you were back to square one, even worse, it was like you were in the negative numbers now. Before he was dating you and Baekhyun saw each other every day, you hung out alone at least once a week, you cuddled and occasionally walked on the streets close to each other relishing in the heat it brought you. Now you’d stopped hanging out alone, you only saw each other in passing, hung out only when other friends were there and even then, your were now keeps at a distance, Baekhyun no longer sat beside you and helped you pick out what to eat, “Christ (y/n), how do you choose what to wear every morning, you just can’t make decisions”, or walk in the back of your friend group complaining about how slow you walk as you attempt to explain to him how not everything needs to be fast in life, “you’re full of excuses, it’s okay to admit you just never step foot in a gym, y’ know?”, you also didn’t get cuddles anymore. Truthfully none of that really bothered you per se, what bothered you was the implication that Baekhyun didn’t see you the way you see him, obviously he’d stop being so close to you when he got a girlfriend, but you’d just hoped things would have played out differently, that may be the girlfriend would be you. You were not the type of person to be let down for long though so you just adjusted yourself to the situation, started hanging out more with your other friends. Still, it was not the same as with you and Baekhyuns friendship, and pretty much moved on with your life, but it wouldn’t be a lie to say the cuddles were missed. Baekhyun and his girlfriend soon broke up though, the relationship had lasted only two months. Though he never truly told you the reason, he did show up at your door the day it happened, breathing heavily as if he ran to get there, looking not sad but just confused, spending the rest of the night cuddling you on the couch as you watched several movies. That day had felt so right in your head it hurt, the way Baekhyuns body felt so close to yours, the soft breath he let out when your fingers first ran through his hair, it was as if the habit had never died in the first place. None of what you felt was real though, no matter how loved you felt in his arms or how much your heart raced, Baekhyun didn’t feel the same. It was a couple of weeks after you and he had returned to your normal state of friendship that you realized you had to move on, it’s just silly to continue to cling on to hope that Baekhyun will start liking you at some point when very clearly he had no problem dating other people. That’s why last week you went on a date with someone and today you’d be going to the second date with the same someone, granted you couldn’t say you had feelings for the guy yet but you were sure they would develop soon. The guy was nice, kind, funny and, most importantly, clearly had an interest for you, that’s exactly what you need right now. You were just putting on a necklace when your doorbell rang, thinking your date was already here, a surprise since the man was late for the first one, you were in a hurry to finish up and get the door. But in opening the door you saw the person in front of you was Baekhyun, not your date. “Baek I’m sorry but I can’t hang out right now, I have a date and he will be here any moment now" He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, looking at you with determination flooding his eyes. “That’s why I’m here, don´t go on a date with him, go out with me instead” “Baekhyun we can hang out another time, come on! What will my date think if you’re here when he comes to pick me up?” “(Y/n)! I’m not here to hang out with you, I’m suggesting we go on a date!” It was almost like your head had started spinning, you felt light-headed at his words, Byun Baekhyun doesn’t like you, right? Then why is he at your door asking you out on a date… “Look, it’s not like I was stalking you or something… See I even brought some chocolates for you, well I was hoping we’d end up sharing them but I don’t think that will happen considering you look like you’re about to reject me…” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, his other arm holding out a heart-shaped box of chocolates to you. “How long?” You shake your head in disbelief, “How long have you liked me?” “I guess when we met I had a huge crush on you, you had no idea…” He looks at his feet, thoughtful, “But at some point, I resigned to being just a friend, but now I realized how I never once told you about it, my crush that turned into liking…” He meets eyes with you for a moment, eyebrows tensed in question, “You never asked me how my last relationship ended…” “How?” You say in a tiny voice, almost afraid speaking loudly will ruin the moment, wake you up from this dream. “I had been feeling sad, not like myself for a while, I didn’t know why, but my ex did” He lets out a breath, “When she asked if it was because of you since I distanced myself out of respect for her and I couldn’t deny it” He now moved weirdly in his feet, looking at both sides of the door to your place. “So… Do you feel the same? I don’t think things will go great for us if your date catches me at your door…holding a heart-shaped chocolate box…” “Well then, good thing he won’t be coming anymore. I have a feeling I found a better date” You say as you begin typing out a quick sorry message, only to realize you had already received a message canceling the date. You didn’t feel sad about the missed date though, looking at Baekhyun you could only think about the number of cuddles that you have to look forward to in the future.

[kuuderekweenfics]

Coalesced

Well hello everyone~

I wrote a short piece. It honestly took everything to get this out of me. I got bit by the nasty writer’s block bug and drained all the motivation out of my body. But I managed to make it sweet, despite having a cold, empty void of a heart. 

Because my headcanon of Levi is that he is actually super warm in the sheets (pun DEF intended).

There is deffff some violence in here. So yeah. Let’s do it.

Sweltering steam plows into you, hot and heavy. The spray of blood misses you by a fraction of an inch as you maneuver your way to the nearest, safest rooftop. No one ever talks about the smell: the putrid decay that emanates from oversized, severed napes. They told you it would get easier to bear over time.

After a few years of wearing death’s perfume, you conclude that it really doesn’t.

You check the gas on your ODM gear. Halfway through and your blades are still intact. You take the small reprieve to stretch out your back before scanning the area for your next move.

It’s surreal, seeing Wall Maria claw at the edges of survival; people run every which way to avoid the onslaught of infiltrating titans.

A surprise attack, you had been informed by your squad leader, Zoë Hange, had devastated the defense. It collapsed under the siege of two abnormals: one, larger than any titan anyone had ever encountered in recent history, and two, an armored titan with incomprehensible speed. Hange had directed you and the rest of their squad to clear as many people into safety as possible. Thankfully, the emergence of titans was concentrated to one location, leaving a large portion to find shelter within the inner walls. But those in the Shiganshina District and around its immediate perimeter were not so lucky.

“Yo, it’s time for us to move out,” Lauda barks. Your mission was to save as many lives as possible, not to eliminate titans. You were told orders were final. You were told not to engage once the call was made to clear out. To continue fighting titans was pointless, Hange had said. Not when there wasn’t a single ray of hope to reclaim Wall Maria.

The hair on your neck raises as you hear the high-pitched cry. You are obedient, by all means a great soldier, but you simply cannot ignore the shrieks made by a child. Two stories below, no older than five or six, is a jumping boy, his desperate attempts to reach you failing with each hop. Your eyes connect with his, distressed but hopeful, and he reaches out his arms up toward the sky, toward you, his only willing savior.

To your agitation, you are not the only one to notice the boy. A titan crawls its way over, eyes hollow, appetite insatiable. A small string of curses come out a huff from your lips. You look over your shoulder, Lauda a distant star in the late afternoon sky among the rest of the survey corps. You drop down in the opposite direction, aiming your grapple-hooks into a crumbled wall and fly forward, then swivel immediately left, aiming steel to neck. Because the titan is a crawler, therefore completely exposed, your kill is quick work. You run to the boy, reaching your hand out to take hold of him, eager to get back. Only, his tearful smile is obscured by large teeth that clamp down on him, spattering your dumbstruck face with his blood.

No. No, no. No, no, no, no.

You can feel the hot breath of the titan, an overwhelming smell of corpse, as it hovers over you. It’s too close. You quickly glance to the right and left but all you see is its flesh.

Think. You have to think. Don’t focus on the poor boy you failed to save. Don’t worry about his blood dripping from your hair and cheek.

Move.

Live.

You shoot your hooks into its eyes and propel yourself up to avoid its mouth. You find purchase on its nose and grab a lock of hair, heaving yourself up for an opening to escape. You know its hands will be on you soon, your muscles screaming as you pull yourself up, up, up, racing against time. An opportunity presents itself. Hooks launch and lock onto the wall and you spring to your freedom.

_____________________

“You disobeyed orders.”

“I was trying to save a kid,” you retort.

Hange pouts, their brows furrow with obvious sympathy, but they stand their ground. “I know it’s hard seeing people die. Children die. Hell, I would have probably done the same thing.” They cross their arms. “But Erwin made the call. You were reckless. Some are blaming your previously pampered lifestyle.”

You scoff. Of course someone would bring that up. It was a constant reminder among the Scout Regiment.

Yarckel, the western-most district of Wall Sina, was quaint and content. While it was not as lavish as other areas of the innermost wall, it was an extremely comfortable place to call home. You squashed your mother’s heart the day you told her you had no intention of marrying an old, stuffy politician and all the resolve to enlist in the Survey Corps. Your dear mother nearly turned into a titan herself with how earnestly she chewed you out, spitting names like “wretched girl” for having “silly thoughts of chivalry” in your head.

But you couldn’t imagine yourself locked away in a gilded cage, ever so often forced to be held by too-soft, weathered hands and bred to deliver another generation of vain and greed.

You’d rather die free.

“What’s my punishment, then?” You concede, there’s no way you’ll get out of this one when Erwin has the last say. Hange grimaces.

Uh-oh. This won’t be good. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Latrine duty. For a full month.”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. Latrine duty is, by far, the worst assignment when living with barracks almost completely inhabited by men. You cringe at the mental image of what you found the last time you were tasked to clean the toilets.

You hold back the bile that threatens its way up as you nod your head. “Anything else?”

“Levi will come in each week to approve your task completion.”

Fuck. “May I ask why a Captain is overseeing my work? Doesn’t he have more pressing matters to see to?”

“I think you know why,” Hange chuckles. “Make sure to get into every nook and cranny. I won’t have you making me look bad. Otherwise, Levi will come badgering me.”

______

This might be worse than facing titans.

You scrub the inside of the toilet bowl in the spot most often neglected: the underside of the ring. Grime flakes off in chunks, and you cant help the gag that makes your way up.

The smell burns your eyes. It could also be the sweat. But you’ve decided against touching any part of your face while you’re forearm is deep in toilet water. When you sit in front of the fourth and final stall, you’re thoroughly convinced the northern barracks’ latrine is utilized by heathens.

You’re busy brushing the hinge of the toilet seat when you hear the door swing open. You’re sure you placed the sign on the door barring entry. “Sorry, still cleaning in here.”

The calm tap, tap, tapping of the boot heel sends a shiver down your spine. This isn’t the footsteps of some eager scout who waited much too long to do their business. You keep your eyes forward, staring at the porcelain which provides a full view of what’s behind you in its shiny, white reflection.

You hear him enter the first stall. Each second feels an hour long. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until your lungs sting for air.

The second stall is next. Then the third. And finally, after an eternity in limbo, he steps behind you. By this point, you had gone back to brushing, mechanically moving your arm back and forth without the same gusto you had earlier. Your heart threatens to break out of your rib cage with each thunderous beat.

“Are you having a heart to heart with each toilet before you clean them? I thought I’d given you enough time to finish up with these.”

“I wanted to make sure I did a thorough cleaning, Captain.”

He clicks his tongue. “Step aside and let me check your work so I can get the hell out of this dump, Scout.”

You stumble out, scraping your back against the edge of the stall; he doesn’t move from his spot and you don’t dare touch him.

As he inspects the last toilet, you hear the soft “‘hmm” roll from his mouth, and you hope this is a small sound of approval.

He walks toward the exit, but turns to you with a recognizable disgust that scares you more than the stare of a titan.

“Good work. I hope you can apply the same level of cleanliness to yourself,” he rumbles. “Look at you. You’re absolutely filthy.”

You should be angry. You should be boiling over at the insult. Instead, you attempt to keep your smile contained.

And all at once you began to enjoy your moments with the Captain, infrequent as they were.

The small exchanges in the mess hall.

The glances in one another’s direction as you file out of meeting rooms.

The quiet, strained growl in your ear as he penetrates you in his quarters as the moon makes its way over the horizon.

It all happens so, very quickly; Levi’s one-off encounter with you. One second you were discussing various teas and which best suited a savory meal, the next you’re hungrily lapping up the precum from his stiff cock, ever acquiescent and flushed.

You bob your head, each time pushing your boundaries as he hits the back of your throat; every gag only adding to his pleasure.

And before you have the satisfaction of watching Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps and Humanity’s Strongest, unravel in your hands (or mouth, rather) he takes hold of your elbows and shoves you on the bed.

He’s surprisingly gentle. The way he manhandles even your own boss makes you think he would be more aggressive, unrestrained.

And while he does hold you with a vice-like grip that will surely leave your hips bruised tomorrow, you realize it’s to assure that each meticulous thrust hits the switch that lights up your brain, igniting your nerves and sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your entire body.

The heat that burns in the pit of your stomach intensifies as he pistons into you, never losing focus on that area that surely makes you see stars.

And you beg for him to go harder, faster, as you clutch at the sheets desperately and push into him in a fruitless attempt to swallow him whole.

But he’s already there, deep within your core; the pumps connecting all the wires to push you both over the edge.

He sputters forward, his seed coating your walls hot and sticky. It’s all you need, his desire to fill you entirely, to drive you into your own divine pleasure. Your breath hitches with the final pump as you both settle on the bed.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This is not love. Of course it isn’t. You are no fool. But for a few hours, you allow yourself to be tethered. Allow him to stroke your hair with a fondness that is so pure, so different from the usual Levi.

Your breaths in sync, the seconds of comfort engraved in your mind for the rest of your miserable lives. One fleeting moment cemented in time.

And in a blink of an eye, it’s gone.

So as you stare, wide-eyed and frightened, at the Titan who holds you captive in its clutches, inching forward into its acrid breath, you allow yourself to draw back into the depths of your memory.

Your mind takes you back to that night.

And you close your eyes and smile as you relive each second of the night that you and Levi Ackerman coalesced.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 3)

So yeah, this is gonna be my first time writing for zutara, so I have no idea how well that will be received. I know that this fandom doesn’t seem to like zutara so wish me luck lol.

Sokka always liked fish, particularly boop boops because of their silly name. He also liked blue marlin.

She likes stingrays--especially bluespotted ribbon tail--the most but they call her starfish. 

She has come to associate her friends with marine life, a habit that formed at childhood. One that she and Zuko have never outgrown. At one point they had addressed each other by the names of sea animals.

Zuko got the name stingray after an incident where he’d jammed a fork into an outlet when Ozai wasn’t watching. It scarred his face and their father was under fire, for the first time, for child neglect. 

Sokka was a clownfish because he was the comedian in the group and he had been until his departure. Sailfish has been bestowed upon Katara after dolphin had been taken from her and given to Ursa. Mother was gentle and docile like a dolphin. Katara is too but she is also a fast swimmer. She can swim further out into the ocean than any of them and sailfish are known for their speed. TyLee is also loving and sweet but as kids they had run out of gentle animals to compare her to so they chose the pretty betta fish because TyLee has always been pretty. Eventually they learned about cuttlefish and that became her nickname; it sounds close enough to cuddle for them. 

Aang is an obvious angelfish.

Where Katara, Ursa, Tylee, and Aang are kind and caring, Toph is a shark. She’s fun and dangerous and with a razor sharp tongue. She is among Chan, Jet and Roun-Jian who have been nicknamed  Hammerhead, Sand, and Thresher respectively. The name Mackerel was afforded to Toph despite her being the smallest of them. 

Mai is the piranha mostly because she had been afraid of them at one point and they like to joke that Tom-Tom is a barancel because he clings to Mai like one. Iroh is a serene turtle and Suki is lucky koi.

Ozai is and will always be a crab because is general outlook on life is grumpy. Zhao, the weathered fisherman is a slick and shady eel and their old history teacher Long-Feng is an angler fish; it looks welcoming on the surface but is ugly within. And the bartender is a prickly urchin. They steer clear of he and his wife June, who they have called the Kraken. 

It was a fun game and to this day she has a tendency, even if it is out of habit, to try to decide which sea animal a newcomer is. 

.oOo.

Azula wakes up on the sofa. It is still raining, fat droplets plop upon the lighthouse. There are less of them but it is still a steady stream. She senses that the worst of it has come to pass and it is probably safe to go outside if she doesn’t mind getting wet. In fact, most people do go out. They emerge skeptically from their homes, reluctant to assess the damage, but eager to just get it over with. It is routine in their little harbor town. 

The people of Port Tui-La are slowly awakening, Azula watches them trickle outside of their homes to inspect them. Many of them, the ones who live more inland, skip this and prioritize checking on their shops or their boats. Though boats are almost always a lost cause, hence why Ozai keeps theirs in a boat house. The news of three summers ago was when recreational fisher, Pathik boldly declared that he had found his janky wooden ship fully intact in a rocky alcove while the Cod Man bellowed, “my fishing ship!” to the fleeing grey clouds. 

She watches the Cod seller’s car whip down the road, he is always the first to arrive at the docks. Azula rolls her eyes, she can already hear him crying out. 

“He must have great insurance.” Zuko grumbles as he groggily wipes his eyes. “I hope he does.”

“Maybe he won’t need it this time?” Azula stretches her arms. 

“Ha!” Zuko bursts. “I bet he’ll be La-bsters, crying about it within the hour.” 

“If La-bsters is still standing.” Azula says dismally. “This storm was pretty bad.” Her heart sinks for Hakoda and Katara. They have already lost Sokka, if they’ve lost their restaurant too… “We’ll walk over there.” 

“Shouldn’t we check on the lighthouse first?”

Azula shakes her head. “It was built to withstand storms.”

“I can get the car started.”

She shakes her head. “Too many debris in the road, it’ll be quicker on foot.” 

“We’re going to have to clean this first.” He gestures to the blockage at the door.

Azula rubs the back of her head and grumbles to herself as she begins heaving the furniture back into its place. To the best of their memory, everything is back in order about twenty minutes later. By now the rain is beginning to taper off, but she speculates that it will come back in furious bursts and random intervals.

She shuffles around for two umbrellas and shoves one into Zuko’s arms. 

She pops her umbrella as she steps beneath a grey washed sky. Small rays of light break through the clouds, but do little to lift the gloom. The destruction is abundantly apparent as the siblings make their way down the path that leads from the lighthouse to the boardwalk. It isn’t a very long walk but they can see the damage inflicted upon the houses of their nearest neighbors. 

The worst of them has a collapsed roof and another has flood damage to the ocean facing wall. Even from this distance she can tell that the boardwalk has been hit hard. After many decades of standing proud and secure, a particularly powerful wave, or mayhaps, a bolt of lightning has collapsed one of the corner pillars. It is splintered down the middle and juts from the lapping water like a broken tree trunk. All around it float planks of wood, chairs, stools, and other buoyant knick knacks. Several of the tourist shops, the ones nearest to the collapsed scaffolding are gone.

Gone in the sense that they are unusable and irreparable. She can see their dilapidated corpses, laying helplessly in the ocean, waiting for the ocean to finish the job. Their rubble will pollute the beaches for days. Likely, the beaches will be closed to the public until the damage can be cleared. 

Azula’s favorite jewelry shop, Mai’s family’s jewelry shop, is amid the wreckage and she silently curses to herself, wishing that it could have been that damned pub instead, maybe then her father would be rushing down the street to make sure that she and Zuzu are alright. 

It very nearly brings tears of frustration to her eyes. She clenches her fist in her pocket and steps over a broken palm tree, its coconuts roll down the incline of the street. 

From what she can see, the La-bster still stands. Though she can’t foresee it opening any time soon. Much like the beaches, it will remain closed until the boardwalk can be repaired and safety secured. Even if the boardwalk were deemed safe enough, the rubble is an eyesore. 

The restaurant may stand but they are still going to take a financial hit, losing that much business at the height of tourist season. 

Hakoda and Katara are already there when she and Zuko arrive. 

“Zuko, Azula!” She throws her arms around both of them at once. When she pulls back, Azula can tell that she has been crying. Her eyes are red and there are tear tracks on her cheeks. Azula doesn’t need to ask her what is wrong but Zuko does anyhow.

“We can’t reopen like this.” She confirms what Azula has speculated. “Waitressing at La-bsters is the only thing that’s kept my mind off of…” She trails off. “Even when the restaurant is super busy I’ll think of him. About how he’d always take the difficult customers from me. Or that one time he threatened to throw a man into the harbor for me.” She wipes at her eyes. 

Azula laughs, that sounds like Sokka for sure.

“Need help with cleanup?” Zuko offers. 

“That would be wonderful, thanks.” 

Azula frowns, she must admit that she hadn’t planned on spending her morning moving heavy planks of wood and fixing outdoor decor. She looks around, there is plenty of that to be cleaned; strings of patio lights are either gone, have cracked bulbs, or are tangled and knotted around palm fronts and rafters in unflattering ways. Outdoor chairs and tables are overturned. Some of them are in neighboring properties and the La-bsters have a few chairs from the Cod Merchant’s Cod Shack. The floor is a mess of glass and broken plastic and Azula has no idea where to begin this task. She has no will power to do it either. Evidently she had just come by to make sure that the place was still standing and that her childhood friend is okay.

Task done.

She retracts that statement. “I’m going to see if I can reach Mai, I don’t think that she knows about…” she jerks a thumb in the direction of the destruction.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Zuko says, “I’ll help Katara, you’re better at breaking bad news anyhow.”

She squints at the wreckage once more, a little ways down the beach, TyLee’s family’s boat rental place still stands. It only does because they have learned from the last time; instead of a small wooden shack on the beach they have built it into the side of a nearby cliff.  Their most expensive rentals are tucked away into a garage, also built into the cliffside.  But there is some damage to their cheaper rental boats and many of their canoes and inflatables are scattered upon the beach. 

Azula picks up her phone and dials Mai’s number, hoping to get a signal.

.oOo.

Katara fixes her eyes on the ocean. She hates it more than anything as it keeps stealing the things that make her feel loved and secure. She loves it more than anything because it makes her feel free and empowered. Such is the duality of the ocean. 

Currently she hates it more than anything in the world. 

Currently it has reminded her of the last thing it took.

Mai’s jewelry shop is like Sokka, dismantled and being pulled further and further into the water.

She shakes herself, she doesn’t know that he is dismantled. 

Yet the hole in her heart is the same it has been several months and it still stings. There is such a vacancy in Sokka’s absence. Anything and everything is at risk of triggering a pang of sorrow; a specific dock post that he used to sit on regularly (she can still see the marks where he’d tagged it), a cluster of shells on a table, certain movies and books. Song are especially provocative; he had always loved reggae. They listened to it together all the time and he had a reggae song for everything, rendering the genre impossible to listen to without crying. There are so, so many songs that she can’t listen to and it is hard to explain why she gets teary eyed when they play on the radio.

Every now and again a customer will walk in who has his hair styled like Sokka had or wearing the same shirt that he had. On one instance, a girl walked in wearing Sokka’s favorite shirt, the one that he’d worn when he went out to sea before he’d disappeared. 

She no longer enjoys recreational sailing, and gets tense when anyone mentions that they are going to take a solo recreational trip. 

Azula insists that Sokka is still alive but Katara knows in her heart that he isn’t. She senses it in the same way she’d sensed that he’d had an accident while jet skiing with Jet and Chan. The same way he sensed that she’d gotten hurt while surfing. 

She knows that he is gone because she can no longer feel him but she lets Azula talk about how she is sure that he is alive. Azula is rarely an optimist and Katara doesn’t have the heart to crush that.

Azula is the only other person who still seems truly impacted by his disappearance. She also tends to turn the radio off when certain songs play, though not as many as Katara. It isn’t for lack of memories with the songs either, it is more that she only turns the music off for songs that have particularly fond memories. Katara noticed that the other girl will grow randomly distant or somber. And Azula still thinks that he is alive. She can’t imagine how Azula will take it when that denial is shattered.

All the same, Katara tries to think of the absolute joy she would feel at being proven wrong.

Not that she thinks this will be the case. Azula has lost her mother already, her father might as well be dead...losing Sokka had done her psyche so much damage. 

Damage that her father didn’t bother to tend to. 

Damage that Zuko could only do his best to mend. 

Damage that had almost killed her too.

And it is no wonder, they had been so close. Of course they were, Katara had caught him kissing her on more than one occasion. It always left her feeling flustered. Especially the night that she’d come across Sokka heavily and deeply lip locked with Azula. She still gags and the sucking sound. And yet, she’d give anything to overhear it again if it meant that Sokka was back. 

They had softer moments. Moments where Katara had found them curled up beneath a palm tree, Azula cuddled in Sokka’s arms. They half-sat, half-laid in the glow of the fairy lights that curled around the tree. They nestled in a burrow of a brightly colored bean bag chair. They’d invited Katara to join them as they watched a movie being played on a projector screen across the beach. 

Katara can no longer attend those movies.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, “you good?” Zuko asks.

“Yeah.” She nods. “I’m just thinking again.” She looks towards the horizon. She can’t see the sunrise, not that it will bring her any comfort today. In fact, a pretty sunrise would only be mockery. 

Just like it had been on the day Sokka was declared dead. 

The sky had been so vivid that day, all manners of orange and gold and the clouds seemed to be tinged a deep purple. Really it was the most beautiful sunset that she had ever seen. 

And when night finally fell, the animals had been more lively than ever. Under a starlit sky, she’d never seen so many turtles migrating from sand to sea. Never seen so many crabs scuttling across the rocks. So many fish in the waves and starfish in the tide pools.

Tide pools that reflected a sky that looked as though it were painted with pearl powder. 

“Sokka laid those out for us.” Kya had remarked, dabbing at her wet eyes. “My baby boy, made this for us to see.” 

The sky had been all sorts of mystifying that night.

And yet she could not enjoy it. 

Not at all. 

The sky...the world had no right to be so beautiful when her brother was dead. 

She recalls at once, their old fish game. She wonders if that’s what the afterlife is like; one big ocean where loved ones go. Spectral fish in a perpetually fluorescent sea. She likes to think that Sokka is a clownfish in this phantasmal sea. That one day she will be a sailfish swimming next to him, finally the big sister and not the little one.

Zuko puts an arm over her shoulder.

She gestures to an overturned table. “Can you help me pick this up?”