#and then last summer i just kept seeing images from it and being like .. wait

[kosegruppaa]

i have become so obsessed with disney dreamlight valley it's not even funny. barley been on tumblr, barley thought about gay pirates, cause i have been brainbroken by cozy gaming yet again.

it's like animal crossing new horizons all over again, but worse, cause they are going to continue updating this game for a long time still. and it has microtransactions. i don't have time for this.

[sc0tters]

It Ain’t Easy | Ethan Edwards

summary: love would be a whole lot easier if your brothers were all on board with your boyfriend.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, 4:00am slightly edited writing 😭

word count: 1.63k

authors note: this is the official last piece before we start working on the December works. This is less than perfect because I tried to get this done beforehand, so let’s all play nice.

When Luke left Michigan he never thought that you’d end up dating one of his friends.

Sure you were twins and in the same friend group but the idea of you and one of his previous teammates was truly not something Luke even contemplated. Had he asked his ex housemates to keep an eye on you? Yes. Did he think that it would end up biting him in the ass as you rocked up to the lake house for the summer before your senior year with a boyfriend? Never in a million years, but somehow he was still sat there watching you cuddle Ethan on the couch.

You thought you struck the lottery dating a guy that your brothers already approved of. Ethan treated you well and after months of growing closer as you leaned on the older boy whenever you missed your brother it was no surprise when he finally made a move on you.

It was a warm February evening as Ethan walked you back to your dorm “you know you don’t have to do this every time we leave.” Without fail each time you came home from these parties Ethan was by your side keeping you company “someone has to make sure you get back in one piece.” The hockey player teased as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You looked up at him with a smile “well thank you for that.” You squeezed his hand as your heels clicked against the concrete path “I’m gonna have to find someone new to walk me home when you get a girl.” You joked letting out a giggle that was like music to Ethan’s ears as you both stopped seeing your dormitory appear in front of you.

Ethan scrunched his face in disgust at those words “not interested in those girls.” He explained shaking his head “didn’t know I’d be fighting men for you.” Amusement was evident on your voice as you crossed your arms.

It made Ethan click his tongue as a laugh left his lips “y/n I’m looking at the damn girl I want.” His words made you stop with wide eyes as your jaw went slack “you better not be fucking with me E.” you warned as the boy reached out to grab your hands with a smile lingering on his face.

Before either of your could wait for wind to push you two together you instead let fate do it “you gonna let me kiss you?” The hockey player asked as he smiled “fuck yeah.” You swore pushing yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him.

Over the next few months the relationship blossomed into the thing that became both of your missing pieces to the puzzle that was your lives. As you kept it to yourselves only letting images hinting to who your boyfriend could have been appear as they got sandwiched into your monthly dumps.

Quinn accepted that you’d eventually tell him who the boy was but what he didn’t think was that Jack and Luke would spend the days leading to the family trip to the lake house with a board guessing who your boyfriend could be.

The umich boys had been sworn to secrecy as you didn’t want to just tell Luke over the phone. Yet as you watched your brothers guide Ethan to the boat you wondered if maybe you should have told the boys sooner “they will play nice I’m sure of it.” Ellen could see the look of worry on her daughters face who could do nothing more than send her daughter a hopeful look that your mom was right.

But of course the Hughes brothers were fulfilling their brotherly duties as they stared down Ethan quickly bombarding him with questions about his intentions. Everything from if he saw himself being in a relationship for the long term with you to what he would do if you got pregnant. Any question they all seemed to not care that it was maybe a bit too far to be asking because as messed up as it seemed in essence they wanted to know if Ethan loved you enough to stay when they got scary.

Luke barely said a few words to his friend as he was still upset that Ethan could have gone behind his back to get with you. So as you helped Ellen start dinner Ethan was actually figuring out the quickest way to get off of the boat “you’re back!” The relieve in your voice was evident as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel and sped to the living room “baby?” You added furrowing your eyebrows as you saw Ethan with a frown on his face “we need to talk.” His hand wrapped into yours as he pulled you to the staircase.

You couldn’t help it as you turned around to send your brothers a glare who could do nothing more than smile “please tell me you boys didn’t do what I think you did.” Ellen sighed as she crossed her arms behind them. Ethan made your heart break as he began pulling his clothes back into his suitcase “could you just talk to me!” You complained making him frown as he stopped “your brothers hate me so it’s for the best if I go.” His words made you feel sick as you furrowed your brows.

Part of you wanted to grow defensive and irritated as the other part of you just hoped to wake up from whatever this was “I know they’re tough but you’re really going to leave because they asked you a couple of questions?” You knew what your brothers were like but you thought Ethan of all people would have survived it.

Your irritation quickly became his too “it wasn’t just a couple fucking questions.” Ethan spat shaking his head “look I love you but I’m not gonna sit here and have my every move questioned for the next two weeks.” Tears began to form in your waterline “maybe we should take a break.” His fingers brushed through his hair as he sighed.

It felt like your world was coming to an end as it dropped off of a ledge “god I thought you were gonna be good.” You didn’t mean to be as harsh as you were but seeing him so ready to leave was a punch to your gut “they’re just protective it’ll blow over!” Your fists clenched “look they are important to you and I think you need to spend time with them.” Ethan cupped your cheeks as he leaned forward to kiss your head.

Maybe you didn’t agree with his logic but you knew that it was only going to end in an argument and for that you kept your mouth shut “I’ll see you out then.” Ethan had to admit that he was partly hurt that you weren’t putting up a fight for him but if only he knew you were holding all of this back because you didn’t want to make this harder.

And you had a sneaky suspicion that your brothers were stood at the door.

As you watched the car roll down the drive you couldn’t help it as you turned to glare at the boys “could you not let me be happy?” You frowned as you looked at your brothers who sat on the couch.

Quinn was the first to shake his head “we are just making sure you’re safe.” He pointed out as Jack nodded “we know hockey players and we know you.” That comment enraged you as you scoffed crossing your arms “you boys don’t know shit!” You hated saying it but you had fallen away from your brothers as they all became NHL players.

You would never admit it but you felt left behind as their lives “last season you all managed to forget my birthday when I fucking share one with you!” You pointed at Luke making him slide further into his seat on the couch.

The boys weren’t proud of the fact that it took a call from Ellen to make them remember that it was the youngest Hughes kids birthday too “Ethan reminds me how to smile and how to be happy.” Tears streamed down your face as the boys finally realised how they had screwed up “y/n.” Quinn was the first to keep up wanting to apologise “just stay out of my way for the rest of summer please.” You were the one sibling who never got mad, Jack broke your toys more times than you could count as a kid but you never lashed out. Luke cut your hair once and all you did was laugh.

But here you were now in tears as you could barley look at your brothers as you pushed up the stairs to your room. Quinn looked down to his younger brothers “we fucked up.” He mumbled falling back into the couch “like big time.” He frowned thinking about how upset you had gotten.

It was clear that all of the boys hadn’t noticed how much they actually pushed away from their sister. With Luke being at school with you they didn’t need to make the effort, so when he went the gap in your life truly begun to show. You were always going to be supportive of them but it felt like you were losing your boys.

Jack led the trio to the door “where are you going?” Ellen furrowed her brows as she watched the boys slip on their shoes “someone has to go get y/n’s boy back for her.” Luke sighed agreeing with his brothers that they all took things too far with Ethan “Quinn is upstairs apologising to y/n.” He added motioning to the steps.

The Hughes boys had a plan.

[usedpidemo]

Thinking about you (Choi Yena)

——————

Thank you @capslocked for reading and input <3

——————

> How have you been doing? I miss u ㅠㅠ

> I hope you’re taking care of yourself and eating well ㅠㅠ

> I can’t wait for you to hear the comeback!

> Let’s meet each other soon

> I hope you’re thinking of me too

—————

She was absolutely right.

You missed her. The old her. Clear flashes of her energetic, glowing face persisted, but so did those unfathomable, lewd expressions.

You never looked at Yena the same way you did before. She was an entirely different person after the day you met.

Not a single night passes by without you restlessly thinking about the fanmeet. You got way more than your money’s worth, even if it punched a hole so deep in your pocket that only recently began to heal from. It was both the best and the worst night of your life. Almost six months have passed, yet it hasn’t sunk fully in your head that this bright, cutesy idol moonlights as an eager cockslut to her most dedicated supporters.  

That isn’t to say you’ve never stopped supporting her. To the dismay of your neighbors, her music plays over a hundred times a day inside your apartment, any of her social media posts is an automatic like, and you don’t open up YouTube without watching at least one video of her, be it a performance or her other content. It’s an obsession bordering on lunacy; it might actually be lunacy.

Your credit card may as well be linked with Yena, even though she’s nothing but an idol to you. In her eyes, you’re just a mere fan. Since that fateful day, you didn’t spend a single coin on any of her merch—not even when she had her first comeback—but you’ve always kept that Universe membership active. That notification from the app is your version of the morning newspaper. Your daily routine grinds to a complete halt whenever you hear that sound. Your brain hardwired itself to instinctively grab the phone, dash and flick through the screen, as if your life depended on it.

On the screen are four new photos. Usually she sends selfies with a common style: Acting cutesy and bright, pouting and puckering her trademark duck lips on camera. This time, it’s different. 

It’s only ever seen seldomly in live performances—think her red top at that one festival or a similarly matching green crop she previously wore—but she’s rocking a white crop top with jeans, perfect belly exposed, complemented by faux panties linked to her pants. Her plaid is dropped down her arms, shoulders fully exposed. It’s bold. It’s scandalous. To almost everyone else, it’s a dramatic shift from her bubbly concepts, but you, along with a lucky few, have already seen this before—far beyond explicit detail.

Immediately, your thoughts return back to last summer. Quick, vivid flashes of her in every lewd position imaginable play in your head. Whenever you see that face, you can’t help but be reminded of how you were atop her, how your cock was deep inside her mouth, and how she was carelessly used by five different men, including you. A cloud of guilt and trauma lingers over you, still incapable of grasping how this cute girl with a colorful image, enjoys being taken in such a pornographic manner. 

Still, the door to the past remains open, enough for a little light to seep in—or in this case, darkness. 

Another bell, another notification. She follows up her jaw dropping photos with three perfectly timed messages:

> I can’t wait to show you a different side of me ㅠㅠ

> Some of you already have ;)

> You mean a lot to me, jigumi

It’s almost like she’s reading your mind, actively dissecting your thought process, and using the right words to drag you back into that darkness. Most people would definitely embrace and relish in it, but not you. In your eyes, she’s still an idol with a family friendly image to uphold, and not everything is tainted, but when Yena herself comes out with these kinds of photos and outfits, you’re like a parent dumbfounded at their child for being rebellious. 

She’s an adult and she can do whatever she wants—you acknowledge this—but your heart feels heavy seeing her act this bold and confident.

A handful times you’ve considered dropping her. It’s not like she’s the only idol you like; you like her former members just as much, some of which are prospering in their new groups, but you’ve always had a special connection to Yena, one that was corrupted when you participated in that fanmeet. She’s still the same Yena, with the same charms that caught your attention, but it seems as if you’re looking at a clone or a variant. It doesn’t feel the same.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door, interrupting your deep contemplation. It’s probably one of your neighbors, as usual. Lxxk 2 You plays over the big television subwoofers, bass thumping, loud as if it were a concert, and it’s that time of the night when most working people should be sleeping. You should be preparing for bed too, but you’re considering other activities before you get some shut eye.

So you hop off from the couch and walk over to the flat’s entrance, powering the music down to ear-friendly levels. You open the door, and your face goes wide, completely in shock.

It takes everything in you not to shout like the building’s on fire. Celebrities shouldn’t be visiting middle class apartments randomly, nor should they be knocking on people’s doors, especially this late at night—unless an entire camera crew is behind them. Not a single camera person or hidden camera in sight.

This has to be some sort of elaborate stage prank, because the timing couldn’t be any more on point; then again, that’s what you thought when she began undressing in front of you.

Yena’s standing at your apartment entrance, grinning from ear to ear. In her tiniest, squeakiest tone, she whispers, “Hi.”

As if you were gonna say anything back, and even if you had something to say, the overwhelming emotions you’re feeling derail your train of thought.

She playfully leans her face close to yours, eyes scanning your idle, unintentionally humorous expressions. “Looks like someone’s happy to see me again.” 

An understatement. Despite the emotional conflict you were dealing with, no words and no width of a smile can express how excited you were to see her in the flesh—and right at your doorstep, no less. Unless—

“It’s—it’s y-you, right? Tell me this isn’t a joke.” Doubt makes itself evident in your anxious tone. You didn’t want to expect much, only for that hope to be ripped to shreds.

“Of course it’s me!” Yena puts her hands on her waist, jokingly pouting, as if she was offended. “Who else would be knocking on your door this late at night?”

Blinking rapidly while you stare, still in utter disbelief, a momentary pause before you reply, “My neighbors?”

“Really?” Expecting a predictable answer, only to be subverted, her eyes dilate. “I’m sorry. I can come back next week if you want—” 

“No!” The scream you let out echoes throughout the hallway, foregoing any form of built up subtlety. Joke or not, it’s far too soon for this fleeting moment to end. “I—I didn’t expect you to show up like this at all.”

“Nobody does.” Yena giggles, and it’s cute, warm, and everything that drew you to her in the first place. “Anyway, if you want me to stay, you can invite me inside your place and we can talk some more.”

She didn’t need to add a follow up smile. You were always going to welcome her regardless of whether or not she said anything.

—————

Call it hyperbole, but you’re really caught up in your own feelings. How wishy-washy you are— contemplating whether supporting Yena was the right thing to do, only to drop those questions the moment she appears at your doorstep, reminding you that nothing of value was lost.

From the dining area, Yena casually watches you teeter across your little kitchen, holding that smile from outside your flat. Ignore the hot kettle in your hand; you can’t last even a few seconds without looking in her direction, sometimes meeting her gaze. When your eyes do meet, there’s a spark, a connection taking form, but it’s make-belief inside your head. She has a finger gently placed on her rosy cheek. It gives you butterflies in your stomach. Then her grin broadens an inch wider, and your heart races. Every little thing she does makes you flutter, as if you’re having a crush on someone for the first time.

Yena has this large racing jacket layered on top of what appears to be a gray sleeveless dress shirt with matching color skirt, striking a balance between quirky and attractive. Even outside of her profession, she always dresses unconventionally—probably because it’s her style, and not only because she wants to stand out. Had she appeared in that fit from the photos she sent half an hour ago, you wouldn’t have been able to control yourself.

Despite the beautiful distraction occasionally getting in the way of your focus, somehow, you’re able to brew up some hot chocolate to serve to your guest. She already had dinner earlier—she told you right as you led her inside—and thank goodness for that; you didn’t want her to use your bathroom for all the wrong reasons, make her second guess the decision to randomly visit a fan out of the blue, especially right before a comeback. Worst case scenario would be a reported hospitalization and the postponing of many different schedules, all because of you.

Can you imagine the fallout? 

It’s probably best not to think about it too much, especially after she drank through the whole mug like it was a bowl of ramen. There’s small residue, tiny little specks on her lips, and she has this gleeful, childlike look in her eyes. 

God, you’re so cute, you think to yourself.

“It’s really good,” she says, turning her gaze to you, shifting to a more businesslike stance in a snap, smiling and nodding. “Thank you.”

No words can describe how mushy your heart feels. Being complimented by your favorite idol—your favorite person—has to be one of the highest forms of validation possible. You’re set for life. If she tells you to quit your job to sell drinks instead, you’d drop the resignation letter in a heartbeat.

“Would you like another?” you ask. The joy is too much to contain, cutting loose in the form of a toothy grin. 

“This is enough, but thanks,” she replies, and you’re brought back down to earth again. Still, this memory will last as long as you live. 

Deep in thought, her eyes roll down to the empty mug. Her index finger runs loops around the cup’s edge. Even when she’s doing seemingly mundane things to pass the time, you’re left in awe of how gorgeous she looks. You already saw her before, under different circumstances, and she was everything you hoped for—far better than what any camera captured. Here, with less makeup and with a more casual fit, she was as close to perfection as she can possibly be.

You look at her for what appears to be hours, soaking in the sight of a homely Yena you’ve previously only imagined in dreams. The way you stare at her, scan even the tiniest of motions, and examine every little part of her leans on disturbing at points, yet she doesn’t say a word, nor does she care to glance in your direction. She appears lost in thought, mindlessly using the cup as a tool to exercise her brain. You’re anxious to say a word, let alone ask a question—and you’ve got plenty.

“I bet you’re wondering,” she says suddenly, tone hushed, eyes focused on the mug’s base, index finger still running laps on the edge. Pausing, she repeats herself, reforming her train of thought. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Yeah.”

There’s one of your questions, delivered in a way you’re unable to. At least she knew that one, but she may as well have known everything inside your head over the last several months.

“I like to remember the people in my fanmeets.” She lifts her finger off the cup, cleans the stains off the fingerprints by rubbing it against the wooden surface of the table. “And I checked who I haven’t spoken to in a while, and guess what? We haven’t interacted since then. At all.”

Your eyebrows lift, concerned more than surprised. “You’ve been visiting your fans?”

Her eyes slide up, meeting yours in a magnetic gaze. She flashes you a grin, no different from any of her other smiles, but you’re immediately smitten. “I do.”

There’s a pause, a moment where you stare into each other like you’re both in love. You’re smiling too. 

“I mean—I don’t go out of my way to visit them.” Yena breaks the tension, averting eye contact. The right sleeve of her jacket slides down, exposing a lot of shoulder and skin. It’s dangerous, how nonchalant at how sexy she is. “Everyone sends me a message, and they usually run over to my place to do the thing, then they leave.”

“Damn,” you comment, taken aback by her sudden reveal. “You let everyone run through you so easily?”

“I don’t hate it. I enjoy it.” Yena fires a mild scowl at you, seemingly insulted by the manner in how you said it. “You were there, you know.”

You lean back into your chair, rattled by her sudden stern demeanor. “Yeah, but—”

“Idol life is exhausting. I’m sure you know that, right?” interjects Yena, half pouting and half grimacing, her brows lowered. “I need an outlet from all the stress, and what better way than to get some from my fans? They get to feel good, and I feel good too. It’s a win-win.”

“It has to hurt at some point,” you reply, even more worried. The thought of Yena being used on a daily basis many times agonizes you, yet you never really mused the idea when you were using her mouth. 

“I’m used to it, don’t worry.” She relaxes her composure, gradually returning to her softer side. “You weren’t this worried when you were shoving that long dick of yours down my throat.”

Consider your argument invalid. You look down at the table, guilty as charged.

“Something up? I remember how hesitant and nervous you were, but you still used me like everyone else.” She holds your hand, drawn into a knuckle, inching her face a bit closer to yours. “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?”

You sigh. “I don’t know if I should say it to you directly.”

“You can tell me everything.” Yena says it with endearing conviction, as if she were your therapist. Here’s the thing, though: you have no experience with one. 

You pause, then you sigh. Again. There’s a line between her invitation and your doubt tugging at you from opposite ends. Months of pent-up turmoil and internal conflict, ready to unload all at once. You have to remind yourself that she's an idol, not your personal counselor, and it may prove to be overwhelming even for her. There’s her hand, tenderly resting on yours, lulling you into a sense of security, but here comes your mind, acting in ‘self-defense’, feeding you negative thoughts like the three meals you eat every day.

For a third time, you sigh.

Fuck it. You’ve got nothing to lose, anyway.

“God—where do I begin—” you huff, tilting your eyes in the opposite direction, dodging Yena’s perceptive gaze. A brief silence follows. You’re hesitant, undecided on whether to tell all or keep it to yourself, but your toes are already deep in the water—might as well dive in. “I—I thought you were special.”

Yena angles her face, quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“I really liked you from the beginning, when you were still on Produce,” you reply, eyes now facing the direction of the living room. There are a handful of framed photos, mostly Yena photocards from previous releases. “I don’t know how I can properly explain it, but—” you pause. Swallow that lump in your throat. “You were different from every idol I’ve followed before.”

She frowns. The hold on your hand becomes a tad bit tighter.

“Gosh, this is gonna sound so cheesy—” you quietly mutter, chuckling at what you’re about to say. Yena fails to suppress her own giggle, her hand trembling. “But—I thought you were just the best, you know? So funny, so cute, and so talented in every way. You were the perfect girl. Still are.”

Her cheeks blush a bright flowery pink. “That’s really sweet of you to say. Is this a romantic confession?”

“God damn it, Yena—” you quietly groan, rolling your eyes back to your skull. Way to ruin a serious moment with humor. “Kind of! If you want to look at it that way—”

“Not the first time someone outwardly asked me to be their girlfriend. Sorry to tell you this, but I’m kind of busy with myself to have relationships.”

“I mean—no! I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, obviously—” 

“I wonder what she’s gonna say about this one—” 

To your dismay, Yena smirks.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, ugh—” you grumble, annoyed. On the other hand, she’s laughing heartily, enjoying every single moment of the exchange. “Can I just cut to the point?”

She cackles a bit longer before gradually calming down. “Okay, okay. Continue.”

“Okay, where was I? Perfect girl. Right. Point is, I wanted to follow your career and watch you succeed. So when I heard you were coming out with a fun and colorful concept, I was so excited. I knew it was the perfect match for your personality. God, you had no idea how overjoyed I was when I found out I was gonna finally meet you face to face. All that album spending was finally worth it. Then the day arrived, I thought it was gonna be simple and fun. God.”

“Then what happened?” she asks, casually, seemingly oblivious to the sudden widening of your eyes. There’s trauma written on both of them.

“Then you started stripping.”

The little smile on her lips curls, turning serious. “And then?”

You couldn’t really answer, not because you didn’t know—you do—but because you don’t want to elaborate. Even thinking about it now, with whatever confidence you’ve mustered up until this point, this is as far as your resolve can go.

Sighing, you say, “You became tainted to me.”

Yena nods. Ridiculous as it sounds, she immediately understands. “Oh.”

You feel something loosen; it’s her hand on yours, pulling away. A tense silence follows, while you both ruminate over everything that you’ve said. It’s heavy—perhaps a bit too much to take in all at once, like you predicted.

“I still don’t regret it,” she says, pouting. Call it cold, insensitive, or callous, she shows no sign of remorse. “But I understand where you’re coming from. Look at this young idol, she’s cute and sweet, but then she lets herself get used by everyone for fun. I guess you wanted me all to yourself? I don’t blame you. Everyone wants me for themselves, too.”

For a moment, she was close to figuring it out. For a moment.

“It’s not even that,” you reply, unamused at the somewhat narcissistic answer. “I mean—you’re not wrong—”

“There you go!” Yena interrupts, internally celebrating and patting herself on the back. “You’ve said it yourself that you wanted me too. Well, here I am—”

“It’s not that simple!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air out of frustration. Forget that she was an idol, forget that she was a guest—you’re yelling at her the same way you argue with your landlord about rent. “Can you listen to me for just one moment?”

She looks at you, eyes wide and mouth agape. Frozen, stunned, speechless.

For a moment, you hesitate, regret almost immediately striking you in the gut. You don’t blame her if she decides to walk out on you. Wasting time arguing with a fan should be the least of her priorities. She’s a soloist who can go about with her career in any way she wants. You have just as little power over her as anyone else—none.

“God, forget about it,” you say. If there was any moment not to be human, not to be you, it would be now. “I mean—I really do want you, but I just—”

“No, no. Go on. I’m listening.” Yena’s tone and expressions are dead serious—a far cry from the usual jumpy side she normally shows. Her hand snakes back to grab yours. At first, you draw it an inch back, until you change your mind and reach it out for hers again. An olive branch of sorts.

“I don’t know where to begin, Yena. You’re so cute,” you say, staring into her starry eyes, twinkling under the dining room light. “I didn’t expect you to be such a—um, you know—”

“A cock slut?” She says it so casually, it’s off-putting to the ear. It still feels weird to hear those two words come out from those seemingly sweet lips, even though you’ve heard them before.

“Yeah. A cock slut.” The words escape your mouth like puke.  You can feel your conscience gradually die calling her one, worse than any profanity you’ve ever spoken. “Can you not—”

“Of course, of course.” Yena nods. “Sorry.”

“Anyway—” You pat her hand tenderly, rolling your eyes while you condense your thoughts into something coherent. “Look, I just—I really can’t tell if you’re still Yena after what happened. I know this is so stupid, but I always liked your cute image, and now it’s ruined.”

She caresses your hand back, showing a little reassuring smile. “Aw. I’ve heard that before, and I understand where you’re coming from, but as an artist, I want to make the music I want, and I want to be more than one-dimensional. I want to show sides I never could when I was in a group. I want to be great at everything, so you can be proud of supporting a multi-talented idol.” 

“I’m already proud of you,” you whisper. “You’re already perfect in my eyes.”

“I appreciate it, and I appreciate you for supporting me all these years.”

Next thing you know, your hands are no longer on each other—they’re caressing rosy cheeks, feeling the warmth and affection of the other’s skin. You’re staring. With much of the angst you’ve repressed is finally poured out, there’s nothing left except a growing desire of want and lust.

“So, you don’t want to support me anymore?” she asks. Seeing the disheartening look on her features breaks your heart. It’s like saying farewell to a best friend going away, never to be seen again. “I understand, but I am always grateful—”

“No. I still want to cheer you on. I just—this is just a little too fast for me, seeing you mature gracefully.” 

Her smile grows a bit wider. After the dark clouds, the sun shines brighter. It’s not over. “I’m still young, so I’m not maturing that fast. At the end of the day, I’ll always be your duck—and your smiley hero.”

—————

It happened way too fast. Love makes no sense. 

How quick those tense moments fly by, only to be replaced by bliss so shortly after.

She kissed you, pulled you close by the fabric of your shirt. Feelings of a long distance relationship that may have blossomed in another life spring forth. It’s reconciliation. It's a reconnection. 

It’s like the last half-hour of superficial melodrama never even happened.

Then again, you should have known exactly why she was here to begin with.

Before you know it, you’re making out with each other passionately as you head into the bedroom together. Her jacket’s long gone, forgotten somewhere in your living room. Based on how muted the music has become, you may have a hunch as to where it ended up. There’s little resistance from your end; you submit to her quicker than when you shared her with others.

Some things are best experienced alone, and making love with Yena is one of them.

Your lips trace down to her chin, to her soft, sensitive neck. She whines. It’s a sweet sound that tickles your ears. Raising her head up for greater access, you leave marks deep into her flesh, assert full ownership of her body, even just for one night. You hold her by her shoulders, hugging her like your favorite pillow, kissing her delicious, mushy skin, leaving red blemishes on her cute figure, glowing brighter than the sun.

“Mmm, this feels so good,” she whines, humming. She grabs a fistful of your hair while weaving her other hand between your chest lightly pressing on hers. The little separation breaks your attention. When you regain some semblance of restraint, you note the last of the buttons on her dress shirt come off, a black bra revealed behind it. With an inviting smirk, she looks at you with glazed eyes, indicating what she wants without the need for words. 

There’s a tinge of anger, some leftover frustration, in those hands of yours. You shove her down, send her crashing to the bed. It only serves to arouse Yena even further. Your pupils are dilating, driven crazy by the lewd scene playing out in real time. It’s a possessed, hungry stare, ignoring all those endless hours of existential contemplation within mere seconds. 

How quick you are to throw away your qualms on a whim.

She looks up at you with an intense, deep glare. Instantly getting up from the fall, her fingers dig deep into your pants.

She isn’t the only thing quick to rise tonight. 

Your pants are the next to fall, shortly followed by your underwear. Only now do you realize the disparity between you and Yena—how you’ve been talking to her in your pajamas while she’s dressed up like a star. Given the circumstances, you’re not at fault, but still—shameful. The only thing saving you from embarrassment is your lack of self-awareness, and that your erect cock demands complete attention. Soon, those carefully curated nails dig into your skin, making you wince. A brief retaliation. It’s not like you can do anything back, even if she gracefully relinquished control to you. 

Nothing worth getting flustered for, you’ll both be down to your barest shortly.

“Can I?” asks Yena, in her cutest tone, hot air against your tip making you shiver. It’s almost fucked how she pleads to you while readying herself to do the one of the filthiest things imaginable. Tip barely grazing her strawberry lips, her nails itching to grab you by the length, it would be criminal at this point to say no.

You barely notice you’ve given your approval. Almost immediately she takes your tip into her mouth with a delicate hum, so hungry to taste you, so eager to claim you. It takes every bit of your strength not to crumble right then and there, not to succumb to your weakness, clutching at her raven colored locks for support. Both her hands grab you by your girth, stroking your shaft as she plunges it deeper into her maw, devouring you.

Every breath you take is tense, like it’s the last one before you inevitably drown. Based on how consumed you are by pleasure, you’re practically halfway there. Mouth agape, eyes completely shut, hands gripping and losing hold of Yena repeatedly while she vigorously sucks your cock, purring with delight as she engulfs you with her wetness and spit.

“Ummmppfff.” Yena releases your dick from her mouth with a sloppy pop, your shaft now coated in a fresh sheen of saliva and precum. The relief is only temporary as she leashes your cock with her hand, pumping you at a steady but excruciating tempo. 

When you manage to reopen your eyes, the first thing you see is the pornographic expression in her eyes meeting you halfway as her tongue laps up your tip, followed by your underside, then down to your balls, swallowing some of it in her mouth. Kissing around your balls, she refocuses her attention back to your cock as it leaks some more.

“Oh my God—” you groan, still holding onto her locks, before the rest of your unspoken words deteriorate into nothing more than pleasurable, erotic sounds. In some twisted form of appreciation, she pecks up your balls as your tip stains her tiny nose, before putting your girth back into her mouth again.

The short bursts of moans you make spiral into a strain of prolonged, breathy groans. Add the occasional drop of her name and a curse, and it’s the perfect string of praises to give to her. Yena’s tempo goes haywire, losing herself in ecstasy of your cock deeply buried in the back of her throat without any gag reflex. She’s all blushed up, makeup and sweat and precum glazed on a perfect canvas—an expression of wanton desire. Before it dawns on you, she surrenders herself to your most basic of urges, allowing you to fuck her face without consideration for thought or comfort. 

The hair tie keeping her locks together loosens. Another chain unshackled. You don’t really need your eyes open to know how much Yena loves your cock—how she tightly keeps your shaft sealed between her lips with each thrust, how she sings the sweetest song, and how much spit she lathers all over your shaft. All of these sensations combine for a shiver that’s the closest experience to heaven, almost as if she’s ripping your soul out of you.

Yena rushes the pace even further, grabs your ass from underneath you. She doesn’t care that she chokes and coughs from desperation to fill her mouth. She knows something you don’t. The signs are starting to show: the rapidly expanding tension in your loins and the quivering in your legs—an inevitable climax is about to happen, and you’re trying in vain to keep yourself in this position even a second longer than you deserve.

“Fuck, Yena, I’m gonna—”

Determined, she pushes you against her, makes sure your cock is tickling the deepest part of her throat. It’s enough of a rush that spikes an incomprehensible high before you’re sent spiraling back down to earth almost as quickly. Just like that, you’re gone. Your body shuddering, Yena takes you all in like an open faucet, thirstily swallowing every thick, warm shot of cum down her dry throat. 

She releases your withering cock from her airtight lips with a familiar sounding pop, breaking the thin connection between her mouth and your tip made of saliva and seed.  Playfully, she swallows her throat in a show of glee, grinning from ear-to-ear. That’s the first thing you see when you regain your senses.

Your legs are barely holding out, only supported by whatever willpower left in you remains, and your hand pressed into her long, loose dark locks. While you’re gathering yourself, she grips onto your thighs, licks the tip with her filthy, cum-stained tongue, then around the rest of your shaft to render it ‘clean.’ 

You consider that a night well spent, and more than enough, but for Yena, one isn’t enough. To her, it was merely an appetizer.

“You done?” she asks, innocently, but to your ears, it’s almost teasing, mocking—at your poor stamina.

“Not yet,” you say, still gasping in between. 

“That’s what I wanna hear.”

Yena pulls you overhead, sends you down to the bed on all fours, hovering atop her lithe figure. It’s an arousing sight enough to make you hard, but sore—and you’re slowly coming around the fact that you sorely needed her. So you lean down and kiss her, show her intimacy you’ve previously only done in private, behind these same closed doors by yourself, when it was only you and a photograph of her.

Kiss her again. The way it plays out seems ripped directly from your dreams, but something seems a bit off—she still has the rest of her clothes on. 

So you quickly dispose of them, to the floor where they belong—bra first, followed by her panties. In between, you shower her with delicate kisses down her body, from her chin and neck, to her chest as you peel the lingerie off her, down to her toned tummy. You reach between her groin, make instant work of her underwear, and note her already sopping, wet cunt.

That too, you give a kiss of appreciation. 

Right as you’re about to leave, Yena’s thighs begin to clench between your face, denying you an opportunity to leave without a taste of her as well. It’s a brutal sweeping force pulling you in, and you can do nothing but concede, allowing yourself to get swept away in her over wetness. Her body writhes, squirms as you indulge in her, lapping your tongue around her tasty flesh and her sensitive clit.

“Mm—oh t-that’s so—f-fuck—” she whines, tensing up and body clenching tighter as you devour her with greater hunger than what she did to your cock. 

It only serves to spur you on, unlocks a deeper level of thirst and instinct you thought you never had. With a frenzied pace, your tongue sticks to her mouthwatering clit like a magnet, with her mmms and aaahs in the background urging you to take it all. Any spilled drop of her would be a waste, and you're determined to make sure none of it goes anywhere except your mouth.

Her body quickens and accelerates to its natural bliss, faster than you expected, and you can feel every nerve, every fiber burn and tense beyond the point of repair, yet she can’t—and won't—stop moaning, unable to keep herself shouting with ecstasy, crying out your name like you’re her savior. Hands gripped on the sheet, she eagerly anticipates the moment you’ll deliver her to her nirvana, her paradise, and you’re working your hardest to bring her there.

Digging your fingers between your thighs, you slip a digit around her delicate folds, and it drives her mad. She lets out her loudest yelp, a scream worth a neighbor’s concern, but you’re beyond past caring for subtlety. Let them knock, let them burst through the door. They’ll have to drag you away for you to stop.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, I—”

It’s on a rather weak flick that sends her careening over the edge. Your face becomes a vessel for a torrent of ambrosia, of gooey juices to gush over. She twitches and groans, enveloped in a shockwave of her own high. Releasing your fingers from inside her, you barely hold her upright, keep her legs suspended in limbo while you’re still an outlet of pleasure she uses to fill up. 

Winding down, the grip on her thighs loosens. For the first time in minutes, you can finally breathe. When you emerge from her delicious clit, you’re a beautiful mess, a canvas made of ecstasy and slick—an image she always draws for every fan she meets, and perfectly recreates.

And it still isn’t enough to satiate her.

“I need that dick inside me,” says Yena, delivered low and seductive. She extends her arm out, points out your already hard cock. This was her plan all along—to buy time while you ready yourself for the second time. “I can’t go without at least one nice warm load in this wet pussy.”

You sigh—not out of frustration, but exhaustion. 

She smirks and silently giggles. “I didn’t see you grumble like that at the fanmeet. Now that we’re all alone, you have me all to yourself. Come on. Use me. Fuck me.”

It’s not just in the way she says such profane, salacious words to lure you, it’s in the elaborate order she says them—like she’s practiced it meticulously a thousand times, and knowing everything now, it makes complete sense.

Yet with the way your body moves, how you almost immediately respond to her call, it works to near perfection. 

Hand on your cock, you hover atop her, line your shaft against her sopping cunt, force a gentle whine in response. Testing the waters, you whisper against her lips, “How do you want it?”

“Any way you want,” she mumbles back, smiling sweetly, but the intent behind the expression is anything but. Her hand traces the outline of your free arm, up to your cheek, caressing your face tenderly—a display of gentleness in the middle of high tension. “From here, from behind, on all fours—maybe even my mouth again. All up to you.”

So many options to choose from, you wish you had the strength and the endurance to do them all—maybe in that order as well. It’s an inconsequential question and challenge, but the decision making is more than existential. You don’t know when you’ll get to have an opportunity like this again.

Her lidded eyes stare into yours, anticipating your next move. Leaning into her ear, you moan into her as you penetrate her pussy with your shaft, her cry melding with yours into a harmonious sound. Your hands intertwine with hers, lifting them over her shoulders as you slip your cock into her tight, suffocating cunt. Missionary might be the least inviting of all the possible positions, but you wanted to see her crack, to see her fall apart, to see her break.

Unsurprisingly, she does. Between one deep nail into her after another, you watch Yena crumble into a lewd, pornographic heap of skin. Her eyes go shut and her lips curl, melt wide open, moaning and cursing like they’re the only words she ever knows. The same expressions that haunted you are back, but with the way you’re smiling, now you’re master over them—it doesn’t torment you anymore. 

Call yourself hypocritical, but you’re enjoying every moment of this, every moment of your cock buried inside of her cunt—for yours alone. Combine your collective moans with the sound of your thighs sloppily slapping against each other, you’re making beautiful music. 

“Fuck, Yena. Fuck, Yena.” Your thoughts loop between those two words, with nothing else to fill in the gaps, and it eventually materializes on your lips. There’s her breasts, bouncing vibrantly with each ripple of her body, so that might be the distraction. You grip them with a hand and it doesn’t change anything. At best, it only changes her pitch. You’re fucking her, that’s for sure. 

Many nights you’ve secretly wished and pined for this moment—and at times, you’ve slept with wet fingers pretending it would come. Now it’s here, at its apex, and you don’t want to let the time slip away—at least not yet.

Your body doesn’t follow, doesn’t recognize you’re one whole entity. It’s rebellious. It thrusts, it picks up speed, it only knows to go either 0 or 100. There’s no in-between. Yena’s perfect figure recognizes how unruly you are. Her pussy flexes against your cock harshly. It may as well be a death grip. It’s almost taunting to see how difficult she makes it for you to slip out, so determined to make you cum in as little time as possible. 

She has places to be, but you’ll make sure she doesn’t walk out of here unless it’s limping.

Even that proves to be counterproductive. The way you rail her, exert every last bit of effort into ensuring your dick is deeply buried inside her as humanly possible proves to be too much for your own body. Your pelvic joints flare up, ache and sore, pleading for you to be gentle, but anything less would be a disappointment to Yena. That’s how she wants it, and you’re more than willing to sacrifice yourself to give her everything.

You’ve drowned out her loud screams at this point. Even the idea of a few more minutes seems out of reach. Yena helplessly quivers beneath you, screaming in both agony and joy as you wildly fuck her, completely submissive to your most radical of whims. Rational thinking is practically non-existent, only dependent on the most basic and primal of your instincts to end her—and yourself.

Mouth agape, exposed neck with red sores all over from marks you’ve unknowingly made, she cries out, aware of your plight, “I can feel you’re so close to cumming—Give it to me—I can tell how badly you want to cum—just give in and fill me up!”

You can’t even look at Yena, losing the last of your restraint rapidly by the second. The sight of your cock spearing her beneath doesn’t help either. It’s basically over. With a deep thrust and sigh, you give in and do as she says: fill her up. 

The groan you make is inhuman, borderline animalistic. Without thought, you let yourself go, fire thick shots of cum, one after another inside her soaked pussy. The painful but thrilling feeling lingers on for what may as well be hours. You can’t stop throbbing inside her, pulsating inside her greedy cunt, waiting for your cock to finally stop shooting a presumably infinite amount of seed to fill her with.

Using the last of your strength, you move yourself to the side with enough space that when you eventually crash, your outstretched arm gently settles atop her bare chest. Gone are the loud, deafening moans and unrecognizable bed creaks, replaced by deep, gentle breaths.

—————

Thank goodness it’s the weekend, otherwise you’d be worrying about the work day to come while you lie restless in bed. Actually, you do have something concerning—the heap of reports your boss gave you earlier that day. You’ll get it started after you’ve gotten enough rest, which will take you into the afternoon.

It’s not the monotony and the tedium of work driving you crazy tonight. It’s Yena. You both should have been completely tired by now, bodies completely drained of all their strength. Instead, you’re trying your hardest not to give in to her advances while she playfully demands another round with you. 

Toss and turn as many times as you want, pretend to act like you’re sound asleep as much as you want, she doesn’t buy into the act. She’s considerate enough to be gentle, but mischievous, kissing every part of you, clambering over your shoulders, looking at you with an unassailable bliss, all while you’re evidently miserable. You were done.

“You don’t have work tomorrow, right?” she asks, so sweetly but quite taunting. Her arm wraps around your waist, teasingly going for your groin, completely numb at this point.

“I don’t.” A feeble lie. Even the slightest notion can start another wildfire, so you desperately avoid entertaining her, yet she proves to be more persistent than you bargained for.

“Come on, then. I suppose you don’t have a little more for me, right?” Yena flips you face up that you’re staring into each other’s eyes. She’s still hungry, still greedy, a fire still brightly lit within them. 

Sighing, you lightly lift your head, pulling her face close for a chaste kiss. Then she steals whatever control you have. It spirals out into a full-blown make out session.

Next thing you know, she’s riding you, moans overpowering the aching and groaning you loins feel, demanding every last drop out of you, yet you can do nothing but watch helplessly as you succumb to her wanton desires. 

Then you flip her around and pound her against the backdrop of a mirror, making your argument completely pointless.

Plenty of time has already gone to waste, and you will spend some more, but you don’t regret a single second of it.

—————

“Thank you for a wonderful time,” says Yena, cheekily smiling as she crosses beyond your entrance door. Fully dressed and mostly clean, she sounds like a guest for a simple dinner—as if you didn’t rail her five times throughout the night. 

“Yeah, thank you as well,” you say, holding your throat between words, unsure whether you’re feeling guilty or awkward—perhaps both, but it’s a terrible disguise for the high you’re actually feeling. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Gosh, you should just drop the act. I know you actually enjoyed it.” 

Caught red-handed, you lift your hands, shrugging your shoulders playfully. You’re lightly smirking, barely suppressing a chuckle. She’s right. “Yeah. Sure did.” 

“Comeback’s on Monday. Maybe I wear this outfit during the showcase,” she remarks—the first time she’s said something about her occupation throughout her stay with you. Winking, she adds, “I hope you enjoy the new music. I’ll show a different side of me.”

“Heh. I have already seen it.” 

“And I have already seen yours. To be quite honest, I quite like it.” Yena shoots continued winks at you, her favorite weapon of choice. “I’d like to see more of it, in fact.”

Tilting your chin up, amusement clearly written on your features, you fold your arms. “I know you’re busy and all, but I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again.”

“I don’t really have a lot going on. Just some appearances, but no serious music show promotions, so you’ll see me sooner than you think, who knows?” Yena waves you goodbye while you slowly but quietly pull the door on her, her cheery smile persistent even with the sight of your evident sadness. “Please rest, okay? Oh, and check your table later. See you.”

Instead of taking her words to heart, the dinner table is the first place you head to, not your bed. On the edge lies a polaroid of you two like a couple, her arms wrapped around you in a bear hug. Behind is a 10 digit number with a note written beneath in tiny letters, but with the three most encouraging words your eyes will have the joy of reading.

> Call me anytime. <3

—————

(A/N: I figured it was high time to write a Yena fic again. 34-35 days is like the longest gap between fics on a non-hiatus period. I thought it was kind of interesting to explore what happens to an OC after one of those fanmeets like that of Make me smile, make me scared. Thank you for reading!)

[spookyscarydemonbabe]

🧖🏼‍♀️👙🌲 for eddie :)

OMG I HAVE THE PERFECT IDEA FOR THIS ONE 😍😍😍😍

(also i know this isn’t super smutty but i still really like it c: i hope you do too 🫶)

You giggled as you sat eagerly in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, just waiting for him to pull out of the park and drive into town. All week you’ve been telling him about this little photo shoot you’ve been planning for a while, and finally the pictures had been ready to be developed.

It was something you’d done a few months prior, waiting for the perfect opportunity to get them developed and give as a little gift to Eddie, but Christmas couldn’t wait and his birthday wasn’t coming any sooner either. You figured they’d be a perfect gift to give him during these hot summer months. Eddie still hadn’t found out about your little photo shoot until now, and you’ll never know how you were able to keep a secret like this for so long.

“Alright,” Eddie said to you as he climbed into the drivers seat of his van, “so where is it you need to go?”

“We just need to go into town and grab those pictures i got developed. Are you excited to see them?”

“Of course i am!” Eddie quickly pulled out of the gravel driveway and exited the park, pulling out onto the street and making the long drive into town, “You know i always love getting to see all those pretty pictures you take for me.”

You giggled, just imaging his reaction when he saw them,

“I think you’ll love this set the most.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, looking out the window, “maybe it’s just because i took them just for you.”

“You did? Babe, you didn’t have to do anything special for me.” He smiled, glancing over at you.

“Well, either way, you better like them.” You giggled as Eddie pulled into the empty spot in front of the print shop, quickly rushing to go and grab the pictures, “I froze my ass off for them.”

You slammed the car door shut and Eddie gave you a little wave as you walked into the shop, pondering over what that meant.

Either you’ve been waiting to give him these pictures since winter, or you somehow managed to get photos taken in a freezer. He figured it was probably the latter. Though he wasn’t sure of anything else for those photos, he knew that you would look beautiful.

You always looked gorgeous whenever you had new pictures to give him, he sometimes wished he could show you off with all his favorites but he keeps those ones locked away for safe keeping, all organized and tidy in that little box he kept under his bed. Those were for his eyes only.

He perked up a bit in his seat as he saw you walk out of the store, those dirty thoughts still clouding his mind as you jumped back into your seat,

“You ready to see them baby?” You asked him with a giggle, holding up the little envelope that held the pictures.

“Of course! You want me to close my eyes and make it a surprise when you show me?” He meant it as a joke, but to you that only made the situation all the more laughable.

“Yes! Cover your eyes and i’ll tell you when to open them.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, doing as you told him, closing his eyes and covering them with his hands just for extra measure. He could hear you opening the envelope and twitched in his seat when he felt you gently place a few of the pictures onto his lap.

“Ready? Go on and open your eyes.” You sat back in your seat with a bright blush on your cheeks as Eddie looked down in his lap, his jaw almost dropping into it when he saw them.

“Oh fuck…” He had a smirk on his lips as he flipped through the stack of pictures in his lap.

All of them had you right in the center, white snow on the ground, and he could recognize the pattern of the trees behind you being from the same ones near the park. You were in the tiniest little bikini, different poses showing off every part of your body against the stark white ground. He was already hard in his seat but seeing the last one nearly made him keep the van parked and drag you into the back with him. He didn’t care if that parking lot full of other cars saw it shaking back and forth.

You had on the cutest little black bikini that showed your body off in all the perfect ways. You were laid back against the snow, your legs kicked up with your arms comfortably behind your head looking so seductively into the camera. Eddie could’ve sworn he’d seen a few centerfolds do that same pose, but he was elated that he got to see his girl doing it just for him.

He had the same look in his eye that he had when you gave him the last set of pictures, full of a mixture of lust and love and want for you, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of your gorgeous body. It was like he was seeing it for the first time all over again.

“So…” You asked him, eagerly waiting for his response, “What do you think?”

Eddie’s smirk turned to a smile, slowly looking over at you with the pictures still in his lap, conveniently covering his groin,

“Baby, tell me where you took these.”

“The woods near the park, the big field really made it easy to get these taken without being too close to anyone.” You giggled, “Why?”

“This was that day you were late coming over wasn’t it?” He asked you, “It was freezing out that day, i thought you got stuck by the snow, and you were out there in that field taking these dirty pictures for me, weren’t you?”

You felt a bright blush creep onto your cheeks, wanting to hide the little smile you felt from Eddie’s voice running a chill up your spine,

“Maybe…”

Eddie tossed the pictures onto the dashboard and started up the van, pulling out of the parking spot and back onto the road towards the park.

“Dirty girl… You don’t have that bikini with you now, do you?”

“I don’t, i think i may have grown out of it now that i think about it.”

“Perfect.”

As Eddie was approaching the park entrance you found it strange that he wasn’t slowing down, instead he pulled onto the street just past the entrance.

“Eds?” You asked him as he slowly drove down the barren road. It had looked like no one had driven down it in ages, “Where are we going?”

“Into that field, far away, where no one can see us.” He pulled off of the road and carefully drove into a grassy field, soon turning from a grassy field into a clearing. You could just barely see the fence at the edge of the park.

“But… why?” You asked him as he parked the van.

“Because, pretty girl,” He finally looked over to you, “I’ve got an extra disposable camera and a blanket in the back. And i’m going to fuck you sore in the same spot you took those pictures in. I want us to have some of our own…”

if you’d like to participate in this event just click here for the details 🥰

tags: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @munsonology @esme-viridian @gvf23

[zukosdualdao]

will the scars go away with night? / try to smile for the morning light

zutara month day, 4: katara kept her scars, @zutaramonth

summary: the morning after the ember island players, katara trains earlier than usual. zuko notices the scars on her hands when she unwraps them, and they talk about some things.

warnings: references to the noncon kiss in teip. also some references to ableism wrt scarring and facial differences.

other notes: the title is a lyric from "a little's enough" by angels & airwaves.

When Katara finishes her training for the morning, running through the forms that still challenge her most in the courtyard of the Ember Island house Zuko took them to, she’s unsurprised to find Zuko waiting at the edge. She knows he usually wakes earlier than any of them to do his own training before a second session instructing Aang, and she’s often taken over the space after.

But she’d had an uneasy night of sleep after what was maybe the worst play anyone had ever put on, complete with the terrifying reminder of what was at stake in the coming weeks.

After what happened with Aang on that balcony. The way he kept pushing and then just… kissed her, like that could fix that she didn’t know what she wanted, didn’t know how she felt. After she’d already said so.

And if she can’t sleep, she might as well practice. When she’s unsure of everything else, at least she never feels more at peace than when the water yields to her command. It helps. A little.

“Sorry,” Katara exhales as she approaches, running the back of her hand over her forehead to wipe out the sweat of both exertion and the summer sun that’s finally starting to rise. “I’m done. I didn’t mean to steal the space from you,” she adds, smiling and trying not to linger on the image of his shirtless form as he leans his side against one of the pillars.

“It’s no problem,” Zuko replies, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I like watching you.” It takes a moment for the words to catch up to him, his right eye growing wide as he waves an unsure hand in explanation. “That’s not—I mean, because you’re so talented—”

Katara giggles, feeling more of the tension melt out of her as she stretches her arms and watches him stumble over the words. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve never watched you,” she admits in a soft voice. “You’re talented, too.”

Zuko blinks, looking… surprised and maybe a little embarassed, she thinks as she begins to unwrap her hands. He opens his mouth to say something but pauses when his gaze flits down to them before quickly looking back up into her eyes.

There’s a part of her that feels tense and strange about it—mostly, she tries not to to think about the burn scars that swirl around her hands. She often wears her bandage wraps when they’re out, so as to be ready for battle as needed, and even when she doesn’t, she mostly doesn’t mind leaving them uncovered. It’s only when she catches strangers staring too long at her mottled skin or when Aang makes passing glances at them with a look of guilt that her stomach clenches and she feels an angry kind of shame.

But… she knows it isn’t like that with Zuko, that he’s not thinking what other people are when he looks. 

My face, he’d said in the light of those green crystals, all those months ago in Ba Sing Se, far more hurt than she’d thought him capable of being before that point. I see.

“I got these a while ago,” Katara says as she raises them to show him. 

Zuko nods but doesn’t ask how she got them, though she knows Aang told him the bare details of the incident. Instead, he asks quietly, “Do… do they hurt?”

Katara considers it. It hurts to look at them. It hurts to think that Aang just… hadn’t listened to her, even though she knows it was an accident and how badly he felt afterward. But still. It was just like how he hadn’t listened to her last night when she said she needed time, needed to think, that she didn’t know.

And sometimes, she still thinks she feels the echo of the pain from the first moments after the burn, bright and searing and deep, but it usually goes away as quickly as it comes on.

Katara thinks maybe part of her does know, when it comes to her and Aang, and just hadn't known how to tell him that.

“Not usually,” she settles on softly as she moves a little closer toward Zuko. She knows the others love her, and that they would listen if she wanted to talk about it. But this is something else that she and Zuko share, something only he can understand. 

Katara so longs to be understood.

“When I first healed them, it took away most of the pain. But they still scarred. And sometimes, they still feel…” She doesn’t finish the thought, instead lowering them and turning them over, inspecting her palms as she does. “Sometimes I look at them, and I don’t think I recognize myself. See?” she adds, moving them closer to him, though she doesn’t quite know why.

Zuko nods slowly. He raises one of his own hands and hovers it inches away from her, ready to retract it at the first sign of distress.

“Is this okay?”

Katara nods, feeling choked.

Zuko traces the lines of her left hand briefly with a delicate finger. I see you, he says without saying anything at all. I do.

Katara nearly shivers at the touch, the feel of it muted but still so gentle that it sort of makes her want to cry. She looks up at his face. There’s no pity there, no fear or disgust or anything else Katara’s come to anticipate from those looking at her hands, either. 

Just a look in his eyes like he gets it, the shiny, textured skin set against his left eye making her feel safe to trust him with this.

“Aang kissed me last night,” she says suddenly, wanting to know what Zuko, the real Zuko and not some exaggerated, unreal stage version, might say to that. “And he said he wants to be with me, and he doesn't know why we're not together."

Zuko looks up to stare at her, but there’s no judgment there, nor any particular shock. He’s just searching for something.

“What do you want?” he asks after a long moment, the words like an echo of something that maybe he once heard.

Katara curls her lip, thinking it over. “For you to keep holding my hands.”

In an instant, Zuko reaches to take her other hand and holds both of them in his own. He squeezes them in a light, gentle motion. Katara swears she can hear her own heart flutter.

[rosysunsetz]

Could you do a jack hughes image where your like in a established relationship and your Quinn’s best friend but like the relationship is secret and then Quinn finds out and it’s just like Funny?

hehe🤭

NOT SO SECRET NOW, HUH?

Having a secret relationship with your best friend's younger brother was scary. Point blank. Having to sneak around, sharing kisses in the night or having to refrain from touching.

It was difficult. But it was the adrenaline that came from it that made it worth it. Thinking about being caught. Having to be quiet when going to his room. It was exhilarating. Until, the thrill came to an end.

I was over the Hughe's house for a couple days over the summer. Jack was about to come home from a long roadie and I had to act nonchalant about it, as if I wasn't about to jump up and down because he was finally here. It had been months since I've last seen him. He's been traveling since March and it's June now.

The weather has gotten nicer and I've been spending some time with my other friends and working while the Hughes were traveling for their games. So I wasn't completely lonely during that time.

Quinn had time off for about a month and Jack would be off for around 2 months. So that meant more time with him. And I was ecstatic.

It was around 6pm when Jack finally arrived home. He arrived through the front door with his bags in hand and grey sweatpants on. Quinn jumped up to greet his little brother with the guy equivalent of a hug and the moment quickly ended once Jack came into the living room and saw me. I hid a really big smile and waved as I sat with my legs crossed. My shorts were riding up my legs and I didn't realize it till his eyes went down to them. We kept eye contact for a bit and he smiled wide, showing his teeth. Quinn unfortunately noticed the encounter and stood with his mouth agape.

My eyes widened as I looked behind Jack to Quinn and Jack turned around slowly. I couldn't see Jack's face but I could see Quinn's. It seemed he was finally connecting the dots.

"Wait." He said, pointing between the two of us. We both looked like kids caught with their hand in the cookie jar after their mother told them specifically not to eat anymore. Wide eyed and fearing the worst, I sunk into the couch, hoping it would save me from this horribly awkward moment.

"So you two.. have been... DATING?!"

Jack nodded slowly and turned his head to look at you with a panicked expression. I, too, panicked and shrugged with my hands fittering.

"I thought I told you my best friend was off limits, Jack. You broke the guy code." He didn't sound all that upset as he did when he yelled just moments before and I took that as my queue to stand up and slowly walk over beside Jack. He and I shared looks as I slowly wrapped my arm around his.

Quinn's eyes practically bulged and he sighed loudly.

"Seriously?! I told you not to date her, and what do you do? You date her! How long have you guys been seeing each other."

We both hesitated, sending looks to each other and glancing his way as if to say, "No, you do it" "You do it!"

I finally sighed and whispered. "A year and 3 months."

"You've been dating since I introduced you two? Oh my god!" He facepalmed and ran his hands down his face. I tried to refrain from making eye contact with Jack but I turned my head to see his face and he was looking at me already, his lips quirking up at the end.

I scratched my neck awkwardly. "Look, Quinn, we didn't tell you because we thought you'd react badly. We didn't want things to be awkward or weird."

"Either way, I was gonna find out! And it was going to be weird! Y- you're my best friend and he's my younger brother!"

Quinn suddenly started pacing back and forth and I started backing up with Jack.

"Have you guys— done it?" He asked slowly. The silence was painful as I looked everywhere but him. I assumed Jack was doing the same as he cleared his throat.

Quinn gaped like a fish, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

"Y'know what, whatever. It's fine. I don't want to see you pregnant," He pointed at me. "Or you, breaking her heart and getting her pregnant because if you do I'm going to take your hockey stick and beat you with it!" He practically yelled in Jack's face with his finger pointed and I laughed quietly. I quickly put a hand over my mouth once Quinn looked at me and swallowed.

He then turned and walked out of the room, leaving the two of us flabbergasted.

[leafofkudzu]

Screeches to a halt in a cloud of dust HELLO I'M LATE I'M SORRY. The first Saturday of a fresh month is tomorrow, which means it's time for another community art party hosted by [VS] Verdant Shield! Last week I ran a(n also late) poll and the winner was Rata Sum, a place we haven't been since the very first small test party all the way back in January!

For those who haven't heard of them before, art parties are an idea carried over from Final Fantasy XIV - big (or small!) get-togethers for artists/writers/creatives of all kinds to hang out, chat, and create together! Put together your most eye-catching look, find someone who inspires you, and get to work! Afterwards, everyone uses the party-specific tag (ours is #VSArtParty) to share their creations so others can see and spread the love around via reblogs! The tl;dr I always say for these is this: the 'goal' of an art party isn't to be drawn, but to draw others, and share with the community!

Party details are in the image above, but I'll toss an expanded text version under the cut with things like /squadjoin information!

Location Details:

A guildmate suggested we have the party down by the docks this time so we could have a boat party, and I totally agree! I may have put Antidawn Anchorage as the primary land point, but if you have a skiff feel free to take to the water as well! Worth noting that in order to interact with others' skiffs you must be in the same party or squad, and you do not need to have a skiff of your own to interact with a party/squad member's one!

Now, for those not familiar with Rata Sum, here's a quick image of the spot in question, which can be reached by taking the Antidawn Anchorage or Dawnside Quay asura gates nearby the Magicat Court (Antidawn) and Metrical Court (Dawnside) Waypoints:

Time & Squad Details:

As always, the party will consist of two separate events, with an hour break in between (though technically people jump from one to the other immediately anyway so the NA one tends to 'start' earlier than the scheduled time).

The first party will be on EU servers and begin at 9pm Central European Summer Time (aka 3pm Eastern Daylight Time or 5 hours before in-game reset). I’ll be hosting on my EU alt account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Toxicologist Mosse for an invite.

The second party will be on NA servers and begin at 7pm Eastern Daylight Time (aka 1am Central European Summer Time or 1 hour before in-game reset). This one I’ll be hosting on my main account, so to join either /squadjoin or whisper Teekzi for an invite.

IMPORTANT NOTE (mostly for the NA party): If you join and the squad is at or above 45 members, please just taxi into the right map and then hop out of squad to allow others to do the same! Essentially all conversation now happens in say chat so you won’t miss out on anything by being outside of squad!

Closing Words:

My apologies for the extremely short notice on this one everyone, I've been slapped with a bunch of IRL stuff (it's nothing bad, don't worry!) that's kept me out of the game for longer than I'd hoped. With all the exciting game news buzzing around lately though, I might just have to set aside some proper time to let myself get invested in this again, we'll see! Anyway, as always, thank you so much to everyone who comes out to these events and helps make them so special - I can't wait to see you all again tomorrow night! ♥

[hopeamarsu]

hi lovely 💐 thank you so much for opening requests & congrats again on your follower milestone ! 💛 [xo from princessxkenobi]

can I please request these prompts, 'hugs that last a little longer than they should', & 'the image of you pops into my head and I just lose my breath' with Will Miller?

maybe he reunites with his lady after being away on a mission with the guys for a while? they aren't together yet, but it feels like they already are, the mutual pining is there, he just needs her to finally see it when he returns ! 💌

Hi darling 💛

Thank you so much. Your kindness and comments are always something I look forward to! Thank you for being you and being here, sharing this space, and making it wonderful.

You are my reason

Will Miller x fem reader (no pronouns)

Word count 1,4k

Rating Teen/Mature

Warnings: Pining, love confessions. Very fluffy.

Summary: If being in this jungle has taught him anything, it's that he no longer can hide his feelings. Prompts hugs that last a little longer than they should' and 'the image of you pops into my head and I just lose my breath'

The jungle is unforgiving and the wound on his stomach aches, but Will feels none of that when he reclines back, letting the lush greenery around him hide him from view. He spies Benny talking in hushed tones with Santiago, heads drawn together as the men plan for the next day. Frankie is napping, ballcap drawn deep over his eyes, his turn to guard the camp later. Tom is off somewhere, but for him Will doesn’t want to waste thoughts. The man has gotten them into this mess, hiding in the jungle and running for their lives. 

He knows it’s petty, but he’s glad Tom is somewhere off from their camp. He’d never say it out loud, but their commanding officer has royally fucked up. But, he doesn’t want to think about that and instead scans the area to count the others around him again. 

Satisfied that the men he considers brothers are safe, Will closes his eyes, hiding the baby blues from others. He doesn’t have to wait long, his mind already knowing where to go. It easily conjures up an image of home. Of wood panels and terracotta accents. Of white fences and a porch swing. Of warmth of a coffee cup in his while he stands barefooted in his kitchen. 

But in his dreams, there is someone else in the kitchen, not as a friend but as something more. Someone who he can only hope wants the same thing as him when Will can return back from this hell. You. 

You with your big smile, hopeful eyes and soft skin that Will aches to touch and explore. You, with your pretty dresses and tempting thighs. You, who he wants to hold close, keep near for all eternity. 

You who he hasn’t had the courage to tell his feelings to. But that stops now. He will tell you everything, every painful and hopeful thing his guarded heart has kept hidden.  

If this trip has taught him anything, is that he no longer has time to postpone telling you how he feels. Will can’t let you slip through his fingers. He jut has to hold onto hope that he is not too late.

**

Will’s dirty, his beard is slightly overgrown and he’s sure the clothes he has on would have to be disposed as hazardous waste but he couldn’t wait a second longer once the plane hit the familiar tarmac. 

Here he stands, metaphorical hat in hand, and waits for you to open the door. He’s run through each and every scenario in his mind already, calculating the odds and anticipating the outcomes. He can’t help himself sometimes; he counts to keep himself calm and it comes to him as naturally as breathing. This is who he is, numbers and all.

The door opens and there you stand, long summer dress floating around your ankles and Will is almost sure the image of you keeps him captivated for life. He’s lost and he never wants to be found it that means he can keep this image of you, smiling like the sun.

Another image pops up in his mind of you and this time his breath is lost. He sees the dress, the white of it glowing and making you look ethereal and suddenly Will can’t wait to see it in reality. It’s that thought that gives him the courage to look you in the eyes.

“Sweetheart, I’m…”

“William Arthur Miller! Where the fuck have you been!?” Your face morphs, the sadness echoing in your voice and filling up your porch. Before he can move, you spring forward like a wired coil and ram into him. The oomph that leaves his chest is more of surprise than anything else. His hands wrap around you, feeling your scent wrap him in a similar warmth and happiness he’s been dreaming about for all those nights in the jungle and middle of the rocks, waiting for a signal, any signal from Benny. 

He buries his face in your neck, breathing deep to ground himself. He tries to count how many moments he has until he has to move away, how long can he steal this moment until the awkwardness of a hug too long rears its head. You burrow deeper into Will, sighing and he can feel your muscles loosen. In turn, he grips you tighter, unwilling to let this opportunity slip by. Given the chance, Will would hold you forever. 

When you let go, untangling your limbs from his neck and back, Will can already see the telltale signs of your embarrassment. “Please don't,” he whispers softly, fascinated by how visceral a reaction he gets when his voice ghosts over the slope of your neck. “Don’t hide. Not from me.”

He waits a beat, before adding. “Never hide from me, sweetheart. My heart could not take it.” 

You look at him with a curious expression, something mixed with hope that Will can’t really discern. Maybe it’s his own hopes and dreams he wants to see reflected back to him. He wants to hope it’s not the case though. He takes your hand, pulling you close as he places one of your hands right over his heart. 

Hi baby blues, the ones that can storm rain and ice over anyone who steps on his way, soften into heavenly clouds and he holds your gaze. He knows he’s normally guarded, a man of routine and precise calculations, but around you his sharp edges soften. He hopes his words that formulate in his mind convey that to you.

“I am sorry I left without a word or note, sweetheart. I can never apologize enough for that. I left for selfish reasons and I am here in front of you now for selfish reasons. But, they are different reasons and these ones are much more important than the stupid ones I left for without saying goodbye.” 

He can see the tears gather in the corner of your eyes and Will smiles softly. “I am sorry if I am too late, or I don’t have the right words. But sweetheart, you are my reason. My reason of waking up in the morning, because I get your message of good morning then. My reason when I’m tired on the road when I come back from speaking because I know you want me home. My reason when I retreat into myself and my PTSD gets too hard to handle because I know you’ll never judge me.”

He takes a breath of air, speaking the next words that will change everything between you. 

“I want to be your reason. I want to be the one who makes you smile, who you can rely on and who you can tell all your worries and happy accidents to.” He speaks your name then, the low timbre of his voice curving into musical notes and he smiles before turning serious.

 “I’ve been in love with you sweetheart for too long and I can no longer keep silent. If you don’t feel the same, that is okay. We can go back to being friends and I’ll,” Will tries not to choke on the words, forcing himself to continue. 

“And I’ll be content. I promise, I’ll never leave you, whether we remain friends or become something more. But if, if you feel the same, please let me finally kiss those lips I’ve been dreaming of for so long.” 

Your lips pull up in a smile, the Mona Lisa -effect taking place and your eyes speak your truth. Your whispered yes is all Will needs and he pulls you in, slotting his lips to yours. He lets his actions speak louder than words, kissing you with everything he has and a little more. Every emotions, each bit of his heart is poured into the kiss. 

The sun can rise or set behind him, he doesn’t care. He has you, he is finally kissing the love of his life and that is all he needs.

It’s the first kiss of many and Will intends to count each and every one of them, storing them as core memories in his mind. He will kiss you until he’s too old to remember what his speech sounded like, until he no longer can respond to any order coming from his superior and his knees grow weak. This is his forever and he can’t wait to see where this goes now that he has this.

*

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this one!

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list any time!)

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @miraclesabound @10blurredsmoke10  @caillea@princessxkenobi @sixshooter665  @amneris21 @greeneyedblondie44

Triple Frontier taglist @darklingveracruz  @evyiione​

[chasingpj]

𝐈. 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

“Someone is either having twins or is going to die."

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader words: 1,929 warnings: none timeline: the lightning thief a/n: finally, the first chapter of the young god rewrite is here! haha, heyyyy. this took way too long. like ridiculously long, and i'm so so sorry. so much happened these last few months. despite it all, i know that i will always return to this story. i can't promise to be consistent, but i will make sure i post very soon. i love you guys and all of your support. it really does keep me revisiting this story. i hope you enjoy this, and don't be afraid to comment! i love hearing what you have to say.

prologue part II

Eager fingers stretch across the keyboard, one by one, to form words, the words into sentences, the sentences into paragraphs. The keyboard was no match for his racing thoughts; every small dent barely satisfied the eagerness in his chest. He could yell at the sky in frustration. Why couldn’t the words just write themselves?

His topic for this lengthy assignment felt unique, equipped with a theory he formulated himself, and he couldn’t contain the excitement of finally documenting his web of ideas. For a while now, the world drowned out around him. No sound or person could get his attention; however, as he marks down a clever thought led to him by her for the first time, his mind wanders.

Florence. The image of her forms in his mind. He visualizes her eyes first. Their green color, how clear they are like moss-covered ponds, and how they droop and pinch at the ends. He can recall the first time he gazed into them, the way they captivated him at first sight. By now, he’s stared into them plenty, and every time, he admired the way they were right at the cusps of both striking and lovely.

She wasn’t his girlfriend. Not yet, at least. She was a friend, a close companion, a like-minded individual that he just so happened to have a major crush on. The side of his mouth quirks upwards. The word crush felt so juvenile but so was his feelings towards her. At his age, he didn’t think he’d find a connection that took him back to the purest form of infatuation from his youth.

He intended to ask for her heart right after the midterms passed. Though, a running feud in his mind questioned whether to ask her when the semester was over. During the summer, they would allow their love to flourish alongside flowers in his mother’s garden. He had fallen in love with the idea but waiting that long didn’t feel right. He knew waiting was stalling the rejection a part of him was expecting to receive.

Another voice in his head told him he was just being paranoid. He’s sure their many outings together had to mean something. Her soft smiles and laughs at his jokes, the tension-filled brushes of their hands. The flirting couldn’t have been all in his head. Right? The idea that he’s misinterpreted it all made him antsy in his seat. It’s enough to release an anxious sigh, and his vision moves upwards to soothe the strain of his neck. His hand rubs the ache, and as he closes his eyes, he suddenly notices a rhythmic creaking.

His mother whispers frantically under her breath, shaky fingers resting on her lips in deep thought. Vincent furrows his eyebrows. It was a rare sight to see his mother so disheveled. Her usually kept hair had wisps out of place, and the look on her face was riddled with torment. She paces again and again, unphased at the bothersome sound of creaking wood or even the harsh thumps of her step. Vincent marvels at how this small woman has such a thunderous stride as if her worry gave her extra weight.

“Um, Mom?” Vincent hesitantly calls, and it’s not enough to catch her attention. “Hello?” He calls for a second time, his voice more pronounced. His mother’s gaze adverts quickly in his direction, and the creaking ends. “Could you not pace? You’re making me anxious.”

“Well, that makes two of us!” Cordelia throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “First, it was the phantom cries—”

“Dad, Mom is losing it.”

“Let her be.” Vincent’s father, Theo, sits back on the loveseat on the younger boy’s right. He waves his hand dismissively, eyes fixed on the crossword puzzle in front of him. After 25 years of marriage, he’s far used to his wife’s paranoia.

“Then the dream where I was in a hospital…. and the geese in the yard! You saw the geese!” Vincent and Theo exchange a look. Cordelia searches for a hint of validation with her frazzled eyes.

“It’s near migrating season, is it not?” Theo points out, scribbling down an answer in the boxes.

“Well, yes… it is, but there were so many! Then, I cracked an egg with two yolks when I was making breakfast this morning!”

“And that means?” Vincent sighs, eyes following her back and forth as if he’s watching an intense tennis match.

“Someone is either having twins or is going to die.”

“Well, let’s hope it’s not the latter,” Theo mutters.

Vincent stifles the chuckle in his throat. “Or you just happened to crack an egg with a double yolk. Not everything is a sign, Mom.”

“I know not everything is a sign, Vincent, but I got goosebumps. Then the candle holder on the altar fell over. Lady Hecate is trying to tell me something. I just don’t know what.” Cordelia makes a beeline for the altar on the other side of the living room. She settles in front of it, adjusting the placement of her offerings with shaky hands.

Vincent sighs, watching his mother whisper a brief prayer for clarity. When she catches her son's eyes, worry flashes in her features.

“Something big is at work here. I’ve asked her countless questions, but the answers are so vague. Last night, I pulled a handful of cards in my divination session with her: The Tower, The Empress, The Page of Swords, The Page of Wands, and The Sun. It all felt domestic, youthful, and transformative.”

Vincent frowns, leaning his chin on the sofa's backrest. Cordelia stares at the tablecloth as if her answer will ascend from it any second now. Suddenly, she gasps, turning to her son sharply. “Have you and Florence—?”

“No! We haven’t!” Vincent groans. He ignores the wave of heat gracing his cheeks and returns his attention to his laptop.

“Well then, what’s all this baby business about?” Cordelia sighs. “Perhaps I’m interpreting it wrong.”

“Perhaps,” Vincent mutters, gaze fixed on the blinking cursor to find his previous train of thought.

“Honey, why don’t you sit down and have some tea? Or you can sit outside and let the neighborhood kids know we’re giving out candy. They always skip our home.” Theo smiles warmly at Cordelia. She sighs once again, her shoulders slumping in defeat this time.

“I guess Funeral Homes are too creepy even on Halloween,” Vincent sighs.

“You know, I’m starting to think that our impressive pomegranate growth in the garden this past summer has something to do with it too!”

Vincent pinches the bridge of his nose, and before he or Theodore suggests Cordelia take up one of their offers, the doorbell rings.

“Maybe your big thing at work is at the door.” Vincent jokes, quickly catching his father trying to hide his smirk.

Cordelia scoffs, fixing her hair in front of the mirror by the staircase. “You both just think I’m a madwoman,” she mutters, trudging downstairs to meet the trick-or-treaters.

There was silence for a while, and both men returned to their tasks before the hysterics. Theo was convinced Cordelia was finally occupied with something, but quickly, his satisfaction curdled into a panic when a wail proceeded to a harsh gasp.

“Mom?”

“Honey?”

The two rise from their seats, eyes widening as the door slams closed. “THEO! VINCENT!”

The calls of their names send their feet moving. They hurry down the stairs and turn the corner through the lounge area. As they appear at the doorway, Cordelia kneels over two golden baskets glowing like lanterns in the darkroom. With glistening eyes, she looks up, her hand over her heart as if it was the only thing preventing it from beating out of her chest.

“Dear Heavens, someone left their babies on our doorstep?” Theo approaches the baskets, kneeling beside his wife. He peeks under the white blankets in need of a closer look to confirm what he’s seeing is real.

“We have to take them to a firehouse,” Vincent gawks, frozen in his spot.

“No! What are you talking about? They’re ours!”

Theo and Vincent exchange glances with each other, pretty sure Cordelia has lost it. As Vincent is about to protest, a choked sob leaves her.

“Lady Hecate sent them; I know it. It all makes sense now.” From Vincent's view, he doesn’t see the letter she’s grasping for dear life on her lap. She shakes her head, “I knew it was her when you brought her into my shop, Vincent. How foolish of me not to recognize my patron in my presence.”

“Mom, what are you going on about?” Vincent kneels beside her. She meets his gaze with a veil of sympathy and presents the letter to him. In gold ink, it shimmered, To Vincent.

“Honey, the babies, they're yours.” There wasn’t a hint of amusement in her tone, but Vincent couldn’t help but scoff. There was no way these two babies were his. It was impossible.

“Is this a prank?” He asks as one of the babies coo and fusses in their blanket.

Cordelia quickly reaches for the child, cradling them until he settles down again. “Lady Hecate has a sense of humor, but I don’t think this is a display. Read the letter.”

Vincent carefully takes it from her, the paper thick in his hand. It didn’t feel like any regular envelope. It was made from a material he couldn’t identify, but its surprising weight is fitting for the heavy news inside. Still doubtful of his mother's conclusions, he opens the letter with shaky hands.

Dear Vincent,

This will come as a great surprise; therefore, I will explain myself the best I can and hope it will be enough. Your mother has been a devotee of mine since her youth, and it was through her did the fates introduce us. My attendance at your presentation was merely an errand; I did not foresee our gazes meeting or our relationship flourishing as it did. It was there I introduced myself as Florence and not by my real name, Hecate. Please do not take the falsehood of my identity as deception. For it was what I had to do to protect you and, as selfish as it may be, to have the room to get to know your soul the way I yearned to.

As for the children on your doorstep, your mother’s suspicions have been right. The twins are ours. They are a physical manifestation of your tender adoration for me and my affection for you. I am confident you and your parents will nurture and keep them well under your roof. You may name and raise them as you please. The only thing I ask is that you see them as gifts, not as burdens. Our time together was unwillingly temporary, and it’s through our twins I could reassure you had a piece of me to keep. Their lives are a lit flame representing our love despite my absence, so please, take your love for me and invest it into them.

As much as I wish to raise them beside you, there are rules I must obey. However, I will never be far. I will watch over your family as I’ve done for over a decade now. Every milestone our twins meet, I will be aware of. I’ll make sure of it. Whoever they become, they will make me proud, and so will you.

Vincent, please take care of yourself. Continue being the wise and gentle man I have fallen in love with.

With lots of love and great apology,

Your Florence

masterlist my lobby: ♡

[edensbuttercups]

Summers and letters - Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader

after the Coffee shop AU (x), time for a Scout AU

Summary: Every summer, you spend one moth at summer camp, teaching kids and teenagers along side a group that you've grown to love. And that's were Bob teaches too, planning games and activities for yet another year, except this year might be the last, having sent all of his details to try to get into the Navy. So what happens when he does leave for the Navy, leaving both you and the kids missing him, as well as your crush for him not yet revealed?

A/N: This has been in the works for months, and I just couldn't find the motivation to finish it, but gladly, I finally did! Planning on writing a part two from Bob's point of view, at least from when he leaves, when he receives the letters, how things go from there. I hope this ends up being a good read, let me know if a part 2 sounds interesting enough! ♡

Words: 4.5k

As always, requests are open and comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡

Every summer, you set aside a whole month for the scout’s camp, a whole month spent with kids and teenagers, depending on the week, and a whole month with your fellow teachers and friends. You had been seeing them every summer for at least four years at this point, the real world getting shut out each time you crossed the makeshift entrance to the camp, nothing but three trunks nailed to each other, strong enough to hold onto each other during the worst of storms. The weeks were organized in the best of ways, groups divided by age and somewhat easy to deal with, ending each camp with a song by the fire, a good amount of badges earned and a whole lot of fun memories to take home. 

And after dark, when the kids were in bed, you got to hang out with everyone by the fire, just like you had with the kids, yet with different conversations, deeper, funnier, getting to know each other better, with the lack of contact, usually, between one summer and the other. There was one of your fellow colleagues that you kept contact with, Sarah, just one year older than you and living on your same street, and a colleague that you wished to have more contact with, but never found the courage to: Robert. He had everyone call him Bob, and you couldn’t help but smile every time he came over to you, talking excitedly about the activities planned, or some of his passions, adventures on the ranch, dreams. You remembered one of the first nights on camp this year, when the two of you had found a spot by the campfire, on lookout for any kids ignoring lights out or that rather preferred wandering in the dark, talking to each other to make the time pass, keeping each other company while you waited for the next people to take over. 

“I remember my first time on a horse. I wasn’t really a fan of the idea, but my dad had insisted, so I climbed on and tried my best for a solid ten seconds, before deciding to give up. Ended up with my foot stuck on the saddle. Rode for 50 meters upside down and crying.” He told you, his cheeks blushed from the slight embarrassment he still felt when talking about it, but it was all worth it when you laughed, your hand reaching for his shoulder as you wiped a tear from your eye. “Were you okay?” You asked, eyes sparkling from the laughter you had just graced him with, finding the image of a seven year old Bob hanging from a horse a little too funny. “Oh, yeah, just annoyed.” He said, laughing once more and shaking his head, “I tried again the next day, actually thinking about my movements before jolting down a moving animal, and eventually I came to love it. I was just grumpy that day and that did not help.” You smiled at his words, his way of being, the comforting sight of him in front of you, sitting cross legged in front of each other as the nearby campfire warmed you. “What’s your plan with the ranch?” You asked, shifting a little closer, just to feel his knees bump against yours, his hand reaching over to grab your hands, holding them between his when he saw you shiver, a comforting habit he had grown into after knowing you for a little over two years now. “I’m not sure. I always thought I’d stay. Help my family, keep on what has been going for years, but… I don’t know, recently I’ve been wondering if maybe leaving would-” he shook his head, frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words, “I’m afraid that staying here will make me miss something that maybe I’m supposed to find.” You nodded, blushing at how his hands were cradling yours, thumb gently caressing your skin as he talked, understanding his words but getting lost in his touch. “An adventure you’ll miss if you stay here?” you offered with a smile, having felt the same thing as him. This town was great for many things, but it was its own world. You loved summer camp, creating a separate reality from the rest of the world for a good month, but when you got back home you did wonder what you were missing, if all those things you saw on tv were things you were supposed to truly live, rather than simply dream of. He looked at you, his eyes scanning your own, nodding slightly. Squeezing your hands softly before letting them go he cleared his throat, looking ahead at someone, your mind soon catching up and standing up, knowing that it was time to give up your lookout position and head to bed. He whispered a goodnight as you reached your cabin, waving timidly before climbing the steps to his own, leaving you with a smile on your lips at his first story, and some aching in your chest at his uncertainty, one that matched your own. 

“Bob! Next year maybe we can try the other trail? I heard there’s caves and stuff!” the kid excitedly said, her hands gripping tightly to her own pants, trying to contain her movements. “I… yeah. If I’m here, sure!” He muttered, hands reaching for hers, helping her move down from the log she had climbed onto, the way back to camp seemingly not fun unless she went over any obstacle she laid eyes on. You turned to look at him, in your eyes a questioning look that he returned with a small shrug and a smile, hoping that he’d have the chance to further explain later on. He had never missed a year, always there for the whole month, mentioning once that this was his time off from the ranch, getting extra time to hang out and do something he loved. So his uncertainty was… weird.  “You promise?” she asked, this time jumping over a small rock, her hands clinging onto the kid in front of her, Nellie. “Yeah, promise! Promise!” Nellie started chanting, soon aided in her chorus by most of the other kids, their voices high in pitch and loud, making you laugh as you moved around them, gently shushing them. “I… I promise, yeah.” he said it slowly, as if his promise wouldn’t count that way. He was half sure he would be there, but he wasn’t fully sure, and lying was something he hated, especially when it came to lying to the face of those adorable kids, kids he had spent various summers with. “Time to head back, kids, let’s not overdo it, we wouldn’t want dear old Bob to go deaf, right?” you joked, moving them along the path, the sign to the entrance of the camp now in sight. You missed the way he smiled at you, or the way he had to glance down at his feet instead of quickening his pace to catch up, the lie slowly making him uneasy. You slowed down your steps, falling into a small walk as the kids ran ahead, finding the others and falling into a queue, ready for the next activity, one that neither you nor Bob had to partake in, time for a welcomed break. “If you’re here?” you questioned, trying to keep your tone lighthearted, pushing any other feeling away, even if the closeness of your hands was making it hard to concentrate on anything but reaching for his, holding it, for once. “I…” he started, taking a deep breath in, chuckling lightly, “I was thinking of joining the Navy. Sent my papers to the academy and all. I don’t think they’ll take me, I mean, c’mon.” He laughed, pointing at himself, “but if they do, summer is… not a thing I’ll be able to pass here, I think.”  “Oh.” You managed to reply, your footsteps slowing once more, not willing to end your chat so soon, slowly stirring it towards the path that twisted around the camp, a short-ish walk, but leaving you with some more time to talk. “I mean, they’d be lucky to have you, really.” you said honestly, smiling at him. “But I’ll miss you, if you end up going.” You revealed, looking up at him. He didn’t look like a Navy guy, with his messy hair, not combed after the night ‘cause of lack of time, or his glasses, or his slightly shy demeanour, but you’d support him in it. He was smart, and he had many skills, and he would be great and you knew he could do it. He wouldn’t know that, of course, since you never quite got the courage to ask for his number, never exchanging them, never hearing from each other if not when you met a whole three seasons later, and so you’d never get to tell him how proud you were of getting in, if that ended up being the case. And it took everything you had in that moment to not show the disappointment in your face, especially when you glanced back up at him, his cheeks red from the sun and his eyes twinkling from the light. God, you thought, If he does end up going, next summer is going to be hard.

You sat by the campfire, Bob sat opposite you, Sarah by your side, chatting with the others about the last days on camp, the crackling of the wood making everyone smile fondly as stories were exchanged. “I couldn’t believe that Kyle found the courage to cross that bridge all on his own.” Martin said, shaking his head. You nodded along with the rest, smiling as the kids' accomplishments were shared, as the last activities were planned, from writing a summary of their favorite activities for reference for the coming years, to what stories to tell and treats to cook. “So,” Sasha said after all the planning had been done, “what are you all going to be doing this winter? Will we be seeing everyone next summer?” He asked cheerfully. He was the oldest of the group and acted almost like a dad to everyone, always keeping in touch when he could, but also taking care of the vast majority of the summer camp organization. You smiled as everyone took their turn telling their plans, talking about your own when it was your turn and told everyone your own plans, not varying much from those of the previous year. It was then Sarah’s turn, with the chatter about parties and travels, hopefully, never losing that glint in her eyes as she talked. It was then Alice’s turn, and Eliott’s, until it was Bob’s, and you moved to look at him, curious to listen, and to have the extra excuse to look at him with no guilt about it. “I’m going to help out at the ranch.” He mumbled, “The usual. But… yeah.” He added, nodding with a light chuckle. It was the furthest thing from a confirmation about his presence in the upcoming year, but Sasha took it as one, not noticing how Bob’s eyes darted to yours when he didn’t mention what his plan really was, almost as if he was asking you to keep his secret, which of course you did. You gave him a soft smile at his words, keeping your gaze on him, seeing his big blue eyes as they looked back, a timid smile sent your way as a silent thank you.

Two days later you said your goodbyes. The kids left first, their parents coming to pick them up as they hurriedly ran towards them, jumping in the arms of mothers, parents, brothers, grandparents or caregivers, each child happy to have spent the time in the wild but still glad to go home. Olivia and Nellie, having grown closer this year than they had during the last two, waved at everyone, giggling and running around. You turned to look at Bob, his smile bittersweet as he looked at everyone, waving and saying his goodbyes, and his words from the previous days came to mind. “So…” you said, moving closer to him, “I’ll see you next year, maybe?” He hadn’t added anything else, and while there were still a few hours to be spent all together, fixing what could be fixed of the camp and saying your own goodbyes, this seemed like one of the last moments you’d get alone with him. He sighed, looking down. “Maybe, yeah.” He nodded, already missing the idea of not being here, but feeling a passion in his being at the thought of what the navy could offer. “I’d love to be, but… it’s not sure.” He mumbled quietly, still weary about talking about it with anyone but you. “I’d love for you to be, too.” You joked, deciding on asking him for his number when you saw his smile, the excuse of keeping in contact perfect and direct. “I wanted to-” “Hey, Bob! There’s some fixing to do in cabin 4, can you give me a hand?” Roger shouted from halfway down the path, interrupting you. “Yep! Coming right down!” He shouted back, fixing his glasses and looking back to you, expectantly. “Oh. Ehm… nothing,” you said with a dry laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up under his curious gaze, “Go help Roger. I’ll see you later!” you waved, turning to find Sarah. You had almost asked him. Which was already a step forward, maybe. Still, it felt bittersweet. Even if you got his number, there was a good chance he’d be gone by next summer, away in another state doing who knows what. 

You sighed as you reached your cabin, finding Sarah in it, packing and cleaning, moving around to the music. “Anything I can help you with?” you asked, stepping in and smiling at her, happy when she nodded, needing something to keep you busy. “Last bit of cleaning, yeah. There’s a sponge by the desk over there!” She said, pointing at the clean sponge by the soapy water, the smell coming from it flowery and sweet. You moved by her side and cleaned along, dancing slightly to the music, not saying much.

And there you were, a few hours later, clutching your bag like your life depended on it, waiting to see Bob for the, possibly, last time. “Hey.” You heard him call after a moment, jogging up to you and sending a wave at Sarah, patiently waiting in her car. She had told you to talk to him, that being the only way you could get a lift home from here, and that’s what you did, clinging to that threat to give you the confidence you needed. “Hey.” you repeated, sighing softly, “so, it’s done, huh?” You barely had spoken, his arms already wrapped around you in a quick hug, a thank you whispered in your ear before he pushed away, standing before you again. “I’m sorry. I… I hope to see you again?” He asked, slightly stuttering as he reached for his bag, flinging it over his shoulder with red cheeks. “Yeah.” You hummed. Want to exchange numbers? You could’ve asked. Would you like to keep in contact? “See you next summer, maybe?” Is what you came up with instead, looking at him expectantly until he nodded, swallowing the words that he might’ve liked saying, leaving you to leave with a curse on your lips at the missed opportunity, and him with a slight sadness in his chest, knowing it was likely he wouldn’t see you next summer. 

Winter passed slowly, spring soon breaking the frost and warming everything up, leaving a sense of excitement bubbling in your chest. You couldn't wait for camp to start again, meeting new kids, spending time by the fire, seeing Bob again. It was stupid, but he was kind, and cute, and intelligent, and you enjoyed spending time with him, so harboring a little crush was fine, but a little distraction you could allow yourself. 

And then the start of summer officially came, leading you all the way up to the annual meet-up, few days before the kids would arrive, the camp in need of some small maintenance and preparation. It was all great, until each single person arrived, except Bob. He was always one of the first to arrive, with his bag of stuff and big smile, waving at everyone and standing by your side, your little chit chats vital as you caught up with each other. But this time he wasn’t here, and you knew what it meant. You tried to hide your wandering gaze, feeling a hand brush over your arm and jolting you out of your thoughts, meeting face to face with Sarah. “How have you been?” She asked you excitedly, pulling you in a hug. She held you tight, moving you from side to side as she patted your back, happy to see you in this setting rather than your usual neighbourly visits, even if her reaction made it seem like you hadn’t seen each other in months. “All good!” You lied, smile tight and fake, hoping that she couldn’t read what was really going on in your mind. You had held on to the hope that Bob would be here, but now that you were waiting, it didn’t seem likely anymore. “Great!” She smiled back, taking in her surroundings and counting each person there. “We’re one short.” She announced, turning to look at you with questioning eyes. “Bob’s not here.” You said, looking down and revealing your secret almost instantly, knowing she’d understand soon enough anyway. She knew about your slight crush on him, revealing it earlier last fall when you spent a chilly night with some drinks, the alcohol making you spill your secret. “Oh, honey.” She said softly, hearing your tone and reaching to pull you in another hug, this time trying to comfort you. It was just a crush, but she knew you cared about him, and had desperately hoped that he’d be there.

“Bob?” She asked, perching herself forward, almost falling off her chair. “The cutie with the glasses? The one that always comes over to chat with us but never really talks to me unless you’re around? The one that looks at you like you’re a goddess every time you help a kid that fell over, or when you charm everyone with your stories?” You felt your cheeks burn as you shook your head, knowing that that could not be the truth. “Sarah, please.” You begged, half-regretting mentioning this to her. “No, no, I fully get it! He is cute, he’s funny, you two work well together. But you should tell him.” She spoke honestly and simply, clinking her bottle to yours. “Never.” You said with a laugh, knowing that that wouldn’t happen. Sure, you worked together, and you loved talking to him, and every time you were by his side you could get lost in his stories or just sit in silence and enjoy that too, but there was no way you’d tell him that you liked him. “Okay, then ask for his phone number. That way you can chat, and maybe he’ll ask you out.” You sighed, shaking your head. “If the moment calls for it, sure. I’ll… maybe.” You offered, clinking your drink against hers and smiling when she nodded, letting the subject of asking for his number fall, yet still talking about him for another moment, laughing each time you blushed at something she said. 

And so, camp went on as it always did, with bumps and cuts and stories and adventures and crying and laughing and joking and hoping. But with no Bob. It worked out, somehow, except when the kids felt his absence, asking about him, wondering, talking.

Pauline caught up with you, Nellie by her side as she tugged on your pants. “Hey, Pauline, Nellie. All good?” you asked, stopping to talk to them. “Where’s Mister Robert? He said we could go explore the other trail this year!” Her smile was bright, and your heart broke a little more at the knowledge that he wasn’t here. You had heard him make her that promise, and even if he had tried to avoid it, she clung onto it for the whole autumn, winter and spring. “Bob isn’t here this year, dear. But we can still go explore the other trail, we’ll just have to-” “Why isn’t he here?” She asked, interrupting you with a frown. You sighed, lowering your head at the question you had asked yourself the first day back, waiting for him eagerly to arrive only to be left with one person less on your team. “From what I know, he joined the Navy.” You explained quickly, grabbing both her hand and Nellie’s as you walked, answering each question as well as you could as you walked back to camp, needing to tell Sarah the change of plan and pick up any gear needed for the new trail. “Can we send him a letter?” Nellie asked, already collecting a leaf and a flower to press and add to the letter, remembering when he had taught them all about preserving flowers, insisting that they were great gifts, especially for people far away. “We… I think?” You truly weren’t sure, but you assumed that probably it wouldn’t be an issue. You could go talk to his family and get an address, or just leave all the letters for when he got back. “We can.” you decided, giving yourself the afternoon to collect the materials for the next day, knowing that some of the kids would want to add little drawings or think about what to write. “So,” you started, calling the attention of all of the kids, combining a little group of all the ones that had the chance to meet and work with Bob, along with one kid, Henry, that hadn’t, but that had heard so many good things of him that begged you to send him a letter anyway. “Everyone can get one piece of paper to write, and one to draw. Don’t feel obliged to do both, but don’t waste paper either.” you said, trying to be stern but not overly so, flashing everyone a smile as they walked over to grab what they needed. By the end of the day you had collected all of the letters, sitting on your bed while you waited for Sarah to be done with her shower, reading through them and smiling at some of the drawings, Bob being drawn in all of them, sometimes with a goofy smile, or with a Superman cape, or giving a thumbs up to a kid when they did something right. He had always been kind to them, always treated them like equals, always cared for them, and the love he gave was always returned, these letters just proving how he was in their eyes. Dear Bob, I miss you. We get to write you letters, we hope your you’re having fun at the navy thing school. You said we’d get to go try the other trail. We did last week, it was scary but we did it. I miss you, come back to camp again next year please. Love, Nellie.

The first one said, the messy handwriting accompanied by a drawing of her and Bob holding hands, the sun shining in one corner with a big smile.

Dear Bob, My name is Henry. You didn’t meet me, but I heard from my friend you were amazing. I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet. I hope to one day. Big hugs, Henry

This letter had a drawing of a car, red and fast, along with a character that probably was Henry, waving.

Bob, You’re not here this year. I’m sad :( Will you be back next year? What are you doing now? Do you miss us too? I drawed your favorite flower, I remember when you showed me in the forest last year. Come back soon Lucie

And Lucie, just like she promised, had drawn, with her little uncertain lines and messy coloring, a cute flower, Bob’s name written behind it with a big heart.

You closed your eyes, holding the letters in one hand as you considered if this was okay. Shaking your head, you picked a piece of paper up, choosing your best pen and writing a few words to accompany the ones from the kids, each one too sweet to not send to the man you had slowly started catching feelings for. 

Dear Bob, So you made it! I had no doubts, I’m so proud of you! I hope this is okay, but the kids missed you, so I proposed writing you a letter, something to remember us by. There ended up being quite a few, so I hope between trainings and lessons you’ll get enough time to slowly read them all. It was lovely getting to spend so many summers with you. I’ve missed you. I’ve attached my number at the bottom of this message, it might make communication easier, even if just to let me know you got the letters. Big hugs from everyone. 

You signed your name at the bottom, scribbling your number and checking it thrice, as well as reading the whole thing over and over. It wasn’t much, and most of what you wanted to say went unwritten, not willing to tell him anything more than friendly words, already debating for quite some time before Sarah convinced you to write your number down too. “He’ll appreciate it.” She comforted you, looking at the letter in your hand. “It’s so forward.” You muttered, eyebrows drawn together in worry. There was nothing more that scared you than losing this friendship you had built with him, kill this harboring crush before it even had a chance, just cause you had been too forward. “This is literally the opposite. If I were you I’d end it with Love, or with my whole heart, or-” “Okay.” You interrupted her, plucking the page out of her hand and folding it neatly, placing it on top of the stack. You’d send them tomorrow morning, the address you had gotten written carefully and neatly on the front, all the letters placed together in a simple box, not overly heavy but surely giving him some reading material. You truly hoped he wouldn’t mind you finding out where to send the letters to. When you had gotten to his family’s ranch, roughly a week ago, you smiled as you knocked on the door, his mother welcoming you in for some fresh lemonade and a slice of her apple pie. You ended up sticking around for over an hour, telling her stories of how you had met Bob, what activities he was the best at organizing and what stories he had told, as well as her mentioning how much he talked about you, making your heart flutter until you realized she probably meant you as in “the whole team”. By the time the sun had started to set, you had left his house with an address, a piece of pie for the way home, and a new friend. The next morning you sent the letters, the little box you had prepared now donning his name and an address, and soon, hopefully in the next week, he’d receive them.

A week and a half after that, you received it. A simple text from an unknown number, the picture attached to the message immediately giving you a clue as to who it might be.

I am honestly speechless. I didn’t expect this, thank you so, so much.

[brokenjere]

seventeen going under (j.f) (chap. 20)

seventeen going under (j.f)

a/n: this is the second to last chapter *internally crying* 😩😩 I'm so happy to have shared this with you all and am so grateful for everyone who has loved it as much as i have and i hope to continue to share more stories with you in the future - let me know if you'd like to be notified for the final part and don't be shy to leave your thoughts below 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

catch up here

I snuck into Belly’s room late. It was still raining out. It wasn’t a downpour like yesterday but it was still enough that it made my hair wet as I walked over to the house next door and I could hear the rain hitting the cement when I went inside. The entire house was dark and I was pretty sure everyone was asleep. There wasn’t a single sound in the house except for the faint noise of the TV in the living room. The light was off but the screen illuminated Susannah’s sleeping body. I tip-toed up the stairs quietly and passed Jeremiah’s room and into Belly’s. She was asleep but her eyes fluttered when I crawled into bed next to her. 

“Yn?” She asked. Her voice was raspy and full of sleep and she barely could open her eyes to look at me but she still smiled when she saw me. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just missed you. I’m sorry about the ball and Susannah,” I said. Belly rolled over on her back, just as I was laying, and sighed. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.” I realized, while everyone was mad at me and the world was dark, that I had also lied to her. It wasn’t just Jeremiah I hurt, it was Belly, too. 

“Conrad made you promise, didn’t he?” I nodded but remembered she probably could see me so I said yes out loud. “That’s why he was being weird all summer, right?” I said yes again. She was quiet. 

“It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. I thought that was the right thing to say. It seemed like the right thing to say. I could feel the pillow case was wet under my face from her crying and I could only imagine how devastated she was when she found out. How a life without Susannah was probably just as bad for her as it was for the boys. It might not be okay but maybe it made her feel better for the time being. 

“I hope so,” she whispered back. We laid together in silence until her breathing got steady and I was pretty sure she was asleep. I reached my hand over the headboard and knocked three times. I waited for a reply and didn’t hear anything so I knocked one more time. Before I could knock for the third time, I heard three coming from the other side. My heart skipped and I rolled out of her bed quietly. When I opened the door, no one was there. Then, his door cracked open. He had bags under his eyes and disheveled hair. That was what my eyes saw first but then they trailed down to his shirtless torso and defined muscles. He was here. 

“Jere.” It was all I could muster. My throat was tight and dry. He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me into his bedroom without saying a word. I was engulfed by his scent. His arms were like a weighted blanket around my body, keeping me grounded to the Earth like a force stronger than gravity. His breath tickled my ear and I nuzzled my face into his neck. He felt like home. “I’m so sorry.” 

He shook his head and his hair tickled my nose. “I should have called,” he said. That was so like Jeremiah to apologize when he wasn’t in the wrong. I reluctantly pulled away from him. I wanted to take a picture of him and keep this image of him in my pocket forever. He reached out for me again. Grabbed at any part of my flesh he could hold on to. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about Susannah.” My voice felt frantic. In the moonlit bedroom, everything felt surreal. As if we were in a movie and the only ending possible was a happy one but this was real life and I didn’t know if that was possible here. I looked at him and thought maybe it was. I let myself believe that it was possible but when the sun came up, I knew it would be different. 

His fingers looped around mine and he pulled me to his bed and into his lap. He kissed my shoulder and I wrapped my arms around his neck and nothing has ever felt this normal. Our bodies were made to sit like this together. “You’ve known since Spring?” He eventually croaked out. His fingers were combing through my still damp hair and I felt his urge to cry. His voice sounded hoarse from either crying or not speaking for a while. He didn’t sound himself. I wonder how much of him had washed away with the salt in his tears. I nodded. We stared at our bony knees. 4 little rocks in a row. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Conrad asked me not to.” 

“So you’re loyal to him then?” He looked up at me through his lashes. I wrapped a curl around my finger to tell him I loved him. 

“No that’s not-“ I stopped. I didn’t know what to say. Of course I was loyal to Conrad, he was my friend. My family. He made me promise and I had to keep it no matter how many times I wanted to break it. “I wanted to tell you but he asked me not to. I almost told you so many times but I was mad at you when I promised him. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know if my excuses were registering in his brain. If they’d make it better. There was no solid excuse or reason for me to lie to him that way. I kept a life changing thing from him and I deserved to feel every ounce of his pain. 

“You were mad about Vivian,” he clarified. I nodded. “So you promised him you’d lie to me for an unknown amount of time and then lost your virginity to him?” His voice was not malicious. There was no anger or spite in his words. He asked me as if he was asking so I take a left at this light and then go straight until I see the Denny’s? 

“Well when you say it like that,” I mumbled and shifted my legs in his lap. His body this close to mine felt sticky and hot but he squeezed his arms around my waist three times to tell me he loved me. 

“Like what? That’s what happened.” 

“Yeah. I guess so. We were both upset.” 

“I never had sex with Vivian,” he told me. 

“But you had sex with other people. I wasn’t your first and you weren’t mine. What’s the difference? I don’t know every girl you’ve fucked.” He held his breath and we looked at each other for a few moments. 

In the distance between our faces was all the words we had never said. I have loved you from the beginning. Every birthday, I wished for you. Every shooting star had your name written on it and every four leaf clover was found in your garden. I need you. You are my forever. 

“Macy Witnall. Sophomore year. She was in my English class and I needed help with an essay and you were too busy doing math with Conrad that I asked her instead. She wore too much perfume and despite not having big boobs, she wore an insanely tight shirt that showed too much cleavage. She kissed me and kissed me until we didn’t have any clothes on and I had sex with her on her basement couch. I lost it to her. Macy. Last year I had sex with Luisa Pilman in her bedroom. We had been talking for a little while and I liked the way she smiled and laughed at all my jokes. I only kissed Vivian because I was drunk and she was there. It could have been anyone. I wanted it to be you. I know that doesn’t mean anything now and didn’t mean anything then, either but I need you to know it has always been you.” I was holding my breath the entire time he spoke. It all came out like word vomit but it was calculated and careful. Like a speech he wrote in advance but I knew he didn’t. He waited for me to speak and when I didn’t he said, “so you’re right. You were allowed to have sex with other people but why did it have to be my brother?” 

“Were?” I asked. “I was allowed?” 

“I always felt like you were mine. Like you belonged to me even though you didn’t. So yeah, you were allowed to do whatever you want but now you really are mine. Okay? You’re my girl. Is that okay?” 

I bent down and kissed his forehead and then his cheekbone. He scratched at the skin on my lower back. I kissed his jawline. He kissed my shoulder and I wanted to nod but I didn’t. I was quiet until I wasn’t. 

“What about Conrad?” I asked. He pulled back and his face fell. The hope that was in it moments ago was now gone. Wrong thing to say, I thought. “I just mean, are you going to be able to get over it? Are you two going to be okay?” Is he going to be able to get over me? I wanted to ask. 

“We’re brothers. We’ll get through it.” I nodded. “Are you sure that’s the only thing holding you back from answering me? I’m willing to forgive you here. Willing to let it all go just to move forward.” 

“Is that all this conversation is? Just a way to get through it?” For some reason, it felt like he cared less. I was thinking he’d come over here and scream and yell and we would fight until our throats were sore but we’d end it in a mess of limbs and sweat and love. This felt less passionate and I didn’t know why it felt less real. 

“Yn. I love you. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to fight with you and if all we have to do to be happy is to move past this. Put it in the rearview and keep going forward. That’s what I’m willing to do.”

+

Mom asked if I wanted to leave Cousin’s early. Go home a few weeks in advance and get ready for my senior year and forget about Jeremiah. She said the last part without really saying the last part. We can get the Fisher’s house in order. To surprise Susannah. We can go school supply shopping and get you a new wardrobe and stay up too late eating pizza. All these things lacked him. 

I told her no, for a while. Until Jeremiah didn't call me the next day, I didn't bother to call him, and I was just floating in the gutter with all the rainwater. I cried all the tears in my body before I told her: "okay, let's go."

The house in Boston always smelled musty when we returned. Too much stagnant air and not enough circulation. Everything needed to be washed and scrubbed and dusted and it didn’t smell like home. My room was cold and the globe on my desk had dust collecting on South Africa. I wiped it away. 

When my bed was warm and clean and smelled like our detergent, I curled into my bed. Cousins was home, too. The ocean waves put me to sleep and the smell of fresh toast in the morning but there was nothing compared to this home. The scratches in the doorframe of the boys and me getting taller, marking the time we all hit puberty and when Jeremiah lost his first tooth. 

This home had all the memories in it. He attached all the birthday cards and notes he attached to the pints of ice cream he delivered. All the stuffed animals he’s given me that live on the shelf in my closet. I reached up and grabbed a little brown bear sitting right in front. I dug around inside his stuffing until I felt the corners of a folded-up piece of paper. It was crumbled and old but I kept it inside of the bear for safekeeping. I unfolded it carefully and read the scribbled handwriting. He was maybe 14 when he wrote this. His handwriting was sloppy and overused and he never dotted his “I”s. 

Yn, 

I hope you like this bear I found at the flea market. Mom said you would. I found some fleece at the flea market, too and I made my mom show me how to sew and made it into a heart using some of his stuffing. I put it inside the bear. It’s yours now. Always and forever. 

Jeremiah 

I felt around for the heart inside of the bear, found it, and pulled it out. It was a piece of red fleece about the size of a quarter stitched together in the shape of a heart. The edges where it was sewn are now frayed and it lost all its plumpness as if it was deflated. It had no more love to give. I squeezed it in my fingers and then kissed it three times. Whenever I missed Jeremiah, this was my ritual. I imagined him asking Susannah if she could teach him to sew as he fondled the fleece at the flea market. Little Jeremiah, looking up at his mom with such hope. It was an innocent love that I bet Susannah could see would one day be more. So she agreed and I imagined her smiling and nodding and taking it home with them. She treated the fabric with love as she showed him how to sketch out the shape, connect the edges, and stuff it full. I imagined him kissing the heart and pressing it to his and then putting it inside the bear. That thought kept me going in the dark nights when he was gone. 

Susannah left a spare key under the mat of the back door in case of emergencies. I wouldn’t call breaking in to clean the house an emergency, but my mom disagreed. “The key has been used for worse things, have they not?” She asked, eyeing me knowingly. If using the key to sneak into Jeremiah’s room late at night or to get back inside way after curfew and long after Susannah locked the boys out worse, then yes. It had been used for worse things. 

Her house held the same musty smell as ours did and as Mom let all the light in from the outside, I pulled out all of the lemon-scented cleaners. Eventually, the house stopped smelling like a damp, dark, abandoned place, and started to smell like Susannah again. Despite her being gone, her room still had a hint of her in the linens. Once thoroughly washed, it was like she had never left. I was putting Jeremiah’s room back together when the sun started to go down. The laundry had taken all day and now I was struggling with the warm fitted sheet over his mattress. 

I pulled one side over the left top corner and the bottom right would pop off. Eventually, I pulled the mattress up completely in frustration and tried it that way. Under his mattress, on top of the box spring right on the edge, was a small composition notebook with the words to the girl I love scribbled on the white box on the front. I grabbed it and dropped the mattress, all four corners of the sheet snapping to the middle. 

My heart started to pound. His handwriting looked old and young like he had written it long ago. The edges of the notebook were bent, certain pages were bookmarked with the fold of a page and it looked like it had been under the bed for a while. Jeremiah wasn’t a writer. He never expressed any interest in it. He didn’t even like English class but when I flipped through the notebook, every page was covered with words and photographs and candy wrappers at the top of the very first page was my name. I should have shut the notebook and put it back but my eyes couldn’t move away from the words he had written. The first page was dated 2015. We were ten years old, and you could tell how young he was in his handwriting. He was misspelling words and the pencil marks were smeared all over the page. My hands started to shake and my heart was beating faster and faster and faster until I had to sit down. 

The first page had a tootsie roll wrapper taped in the corner and he wrote about our Halloween that year. He went as a cowboy and I just threw on a pair of cat ears and wore all black but we still trick or treated around the neighborhood. We always dumped everything out onto the floor and picked out what our favorites were and divided everything. Jeremiah always let me have more but we fought over the tootsie rolls. He let me have the last one. 

I flipped the page and every single page had an anecdote about our friendship. The time he forced me to jump into the pool for the first time at school because I was too scared. That Thanksgiving when I told Susannah I would help make the turkey and I told her I had it and I didn’t and it fell onto the floor and we jumped into a pile of leaves later that afternoon. Straw wrappers from when we shared milkshakes at the diner a few blocks away and the receipt from every time we got ice cream. I always wondered why he grabbed those. From 2015 to 2020, half of the notebook was filled. Every page. Photos of us that our moms took were tacked in the corners and he wrote a description on each and every one of them. 2016 - look how pretty your eyes are. 2018 - I love how you’re smiling in this one. Like you’ve never been happier. You make me so happy. 2020 - Happy New Year’s, yn. My resolution is you. 

The next page was dated on my fifteenth birthday. The day I was dumped for the first time. The day that I knew I loved Jeremiah Fisher. He wrote: Elijah broke up with you today. How could he do that? Look at how beautiful you were. I punched him in the face and I don’t know why. I was just so mad and it was my first instinct but caring for you was my second. He left you but I never will, okay? This is my promise to you. I will love you until the end of time. 

I shut the notebook and held it in my lap. What was this? I turned it around in my hands. There was nothing written on the back but he had left it here. There weren’t any notes written during the summer months. Sometimes he would write when we got back and detail important things but he never brought it with him. I flipped back open the notebook to the last page written. 

Yn, I have written a hundred letters to you in this notebook but for some reason, this feels like my most important. I even opened up a dictionary to look for words to make me sound more impressive because as you know, words are not my strong suit. I am not a lyrical (nice one, huh?) guy. I don’t express my emotions the right way, if ever, but I have to get this down. You need to know. The date right now is June 2nd, 2022. We’re leaving for Cousin’s today and I think you’re still mad at me.

I turned a few pages back to the one he wrote about our fight about Vivian. It was a long string of apologies and begging that I would never see. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love you. I meant what I said I don’t know why I did that. Fuck I’m so stupid, I love you. I love you. I love you. I flipped back to the last page.

I hope you’re not mad at me because I can’t apologize anymore. The words just dry up every time because I know it’s not enough. I need a tangible (!!!) piece of evidence that I loved you this summer. I loved you the summer before and the summer before that and all the seasons in between. When the leaves were falling, I wanted to pick them up into a bouquet for you and when the snow was falling I wanted to collect the flakes into a globe. When the spring brings nothing but rain showers, I want to dance with you in the storm because with you, I can withstand (good right?) any weather. Just know, if the universe decides you and I are not meant to be, I will love you until my last dying breath. If the stars do not align and the world does not seize (my mom helped me with that one) to spin if you and I have to part, know you will forever be in my heart. 

Who knows maybe one day I will give this to you. When we’re old and wrinkly and in love, I can give this to you and say, “see! I have loved you longer than you’ve loved me!” And we’ll fight about it and you’ll say, “no you have not!” And then I’ll have this proof. Where’s yours? 

Forever yours, 

Jeremiah 

There was a photo of us taped to the bottom. One he took while we packed really late at night in his bedroom. I looked exhausted but in love. I loved him in that moment and every moment before and every moment after.

My fingers were trembling. I didn’t even realize until his name was shaking and blurry from the tears forming in my eyes. I closed the notebook and put it back where I found it. I made the bed like I was never there and closed the door behind me. 

His tangible evidence. The irrevocable proof that he loved me was sitting under his bed collecting dust. Where’s yours? I had nothing. I had no proof. I barely had the words to tell him. Even when words are flying all around my head, I can’t seem to catch one. None of them seemed to be the right ones. 

I left Cousins like a coward. It was probably the last summer we all would be together and I left without saying a word. Mom told me I’d regret it if I didn't say goodbye but I didn’t do it anyway. What was there to regret? I’d see Jeremiah and Conrad when they got home. I missed Belly, though. I wished I had said goodbye to her. 

Conrad caught me before I left as I threw my suitcase in the trunk. I could barely zip it up so Dad grabbed a bungee cord out of the garage and strapped it close. I don’t know how I got it to close back home and I didn’t buy much while I was here that wasn’t staying here but it was still bulging open. 

“Need some help?” I turned around as the suitcase landed with a thunk. He was smiling, despite everything. I hadn’t seen him in three days since the debutante ball and here he was, smiling at me. 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“You’re leaving,” he observed. I nodded my head. “Were you going to say bye?” 

“No,” I told him honestly. His smile faded and he nodded solemnly, looking down at his feet. His right eye was bruised a light purple shade. It was the only difference in his face. “I didn’t think you guys wanted me to.” I was the Cousin’s pariah this week. No one wanted to talk to me. I never received any texts from the girls. Even Belly and Steven had been keeping their distance because how could I have hurt Jeremiah Fisher that way. “Besides, I’ll see you guys back home.” 

“It’s not the same,” he said. We had a tradition every summer to end it on the beach. We spent the entire day, no matter what, at the beach in our swimsuits and we didn’t leave until the sun came back up the next day. It was our way to savor the last bit of heat. To soak up the last bit of sun. To drown in the last bit of ocean. Now, it would just be the four of them. “Have you talked to him?”

“Jere?” I was surprised he asked me this. I wondered what happened between them behind closed doors. After Susannah went to sleep and she was no longer the elephant in the room. Did they hash it out once the dust settled? Did they flip a coin and whoever won got me forever? Or did their resentment linger in the unspoken words between them until it was too much to bear. 

“Yeah,” I said. “A little.” 

“And?” 

“And what?” 

“What did he say? Are you two together?” I furrowed my eyebrows and Dad came out of the house. We both looked in his direction and he offered an apology before turning back into the house. I used this interruption to turn around and close the trunk, moving toward the backseat of the car and ignoring Conrad’s question. “Yn, you can tell me.” 

I looked over at him and sighed. “No,” I whispered. His face didn’t light up like I thought it would have but he did smile a little. He stepped closer. “We’re going to wait until we’re back in Boston. When everything settles down. When Susannah isn’t sick anymore.” 

“She’ll always be sick until she’s gone.” His words are true and hurtful and sharp. They pierce me deeper than I thought they could and I sucked in a breath. “Why wait? If you love each other.” 

I didn’t have an answer for that. I guess, realistically, we didn’t need to wait. But the universe always seemed to come between us and if that was the case, was it really meant to be? “What are you trying to do?” I snapped. “He’s your brother.” 

“Yeah. He is my brother. You seem to remind me of that quite often for someone who seemed to have forgotten it when it really mattered.” I threw my hands up, stumbling backward until there was enough distance between us to be able to breathe again. Conrad reached out for me and I let him take my hands and steady me. “I didn’t come here to argue,” he said. 

“Then why did you come here?” 

“I came here to tell you that I’m backing off.” That was the last thing I expected him to say. Conrad Fisher was not the type of guy to steal a girl from his brother but he also was not the type of guy to back down when he really wanted something. I guess loyalty won out this time. “You two,” he paused and took a deep breath, “the love you two have is something I have always craved and it’s something I think I’ve always been jealous of. I wanted it to be me so bad but it was always him. You’re right.” 

He held up my hands and kissed my knuckles gently. “You’re going to find someone,” I said. It was all I could think to say because no words were coming to me. 

“You don’t get it, do you? Jeremiah has never loved another girl. He probably tried. He probably really tried but he has always loved you. The sun rises in his world for you and it sets for you and it spins for you. I think the same is true for him in your world. It’s okay if you can’t love me that way. It’s okay if you don’t want to. Just promise me that you will take care of my brother because I will make sure he takes care of you.” He dropped my hands and caressed my cheek but I didn’t feel the need to back away. I let him touch me for probably the last time. I let him do what he pleased. If the Earth was made just for me, it wouldn’t spin around the sun, it would orbit around Jeremiah’s smile.

I wanted to offer him some sort of solace. Something that could make his heart mend a little so I could no longer hear it cracking under his chest. “You’re my best friend, too, you know?” Crack. Crack. Crack. “You’re just as important to me as he is. The lines just got blurry, I don’t know.” He shook his head and cupped my cheeks. “I’m sorry.” I was crying. I felt the water pool around his fingers. 

“I’m not going anywhere. We need each other.” 

We needed each other. I needed the Fisher’s like I needed air to breathe and water to live. Conrad stared at me like he needed me, too. 

I was upstairs in my room when I heard the car pull up outside. Susannah’s car was now in her empty driveway and everyone piled out and scurried across the lawn like bed bugs. I watched them as Conrad helped get the suitcases out of the trunk and Jeremiah held the door open for Susannah. They were in and out until the driveway had no more evidence of them coming home besides the white car. Jeremiah looked up to my window before he shut the front door for good. 

Downstairs, Mom was making muffins. The smell of bananas filled the entire house. When I asked her what she was doing she said “I’m going to bring them to Susannah’s later, wanna come?” She knew the answer before I shook my head. “You should come to see the boys. I bet they miss you.” 

“Mom,” I started, “have you ever had to pick? Between two boys?” She set the spatula in her hands down. The wooden handle was covered in batter from her hands. They were messy and sticky so she used the back of her wrist to itch her nose. 

“I don’t think I have, no,” she said. “But then again, there wasn’t ever a choice with your dad.” 

“How did you know?” I thought for a second that if I had to ask that question then maybe I already knew the answer but I had to ask her anyway. 

“I guess it just always felt right,” she told me. She could see the disappointment on my face from her answer. The sunken shame in my eyes for not just knowing. “But it’s okay to doubt yourself sometimes. To doubt if you’re making the right choice. You’ll always wonder what if.” I wanted to ask her if she ever had a what if. Someone that came into her life after she met Dad and made her question things but I had a feeling she would tell me no. “I think you know what the right choice is and you being confused and questioning and making mistakes is just your brain’s way of stalling because you’re scared.” 

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. She went back to mixing the muffin batter and I picked at one of the ones already baked. They were warm and buttery and tasted like bananas. They were perfect. 

“You’ll make the right choice. Just listen.” She patted at her chest where her heart was caged by her ribs. Just listen. I closed my eyes and tried to listen. I heard Jeremiah’s voice. His laugh when he thought something was really, truly funny and then his laugh when he tried too hard and didn’t really think what was said was that funny. I saw his eyes and his hair and felt his hands on my body. I listened and listened until I heard him say I love you. I need you. You’re the one. His voice morphed into Conrad’s. It was no longer light and airy and full of love. It was raspy and deep and full of something more sinister. Pain. Regret. I love you. I need you. I saw Conrad’s smile when I finally got something right in math or when I told him I liked the book he recommended. I hear his laughter when it’s muffled because he’s a few rooms away and I’m in Jeremiah’s room but for some reason my ear drums pick up that. I see his eyes. His smile. The dimples that form in his cheeks when he smiles too big. I opened my eyes and my mom was watching me intently.

 “She’s full of shit,” I mumbled. I walked out of the kitchen and went back upstairs. 

taglist: @things-that-make-sa-happy@marajillana@calpurnia2002@revemixer@harrysswhore@liltimmyst@chickunn-nuggett@rottenstyx@queenofthehellfireclub@lilbazzi @drikawinchester @gillybear17

[wisterialilies]

Mistletoe

Pairing: Rengoku Kyōjurō x Reader

Tags: Fluff, fluff, and fluff

“Brr, it’s cold.”

You bury your nose into your scarf as you mumble those words to nobody in particular, watching the snowflakes drift by past your umbrella. You’ve been standing by the gates to the Demon Slayer Corps headquarters for quite some time now, waiting for Kyōjurō to finish up his meeting with the rest of his fellow Hashiras. You haven’t really kept track of exactly how long you’ve been waiting, but it’s been long enough that the tips of your ears and nose have turned numb from the cold, and your arms tired of alternating from holding the umbrella.

But none of that bothers you, for the excitement and anticipation of being able to surprise your lover with something you have in store keeps you well distracted. Just imaging his reaction brings a grin to your face, though your half-frozen cheeks don’t quite appreciate it.

When you hear the gates near you open, you immediately look to see who it is. Out steps the man you had been just thinking about, his fiery hair a stark contrast against your white, snow-covered environment.

“Kyōjurō!”

Despite being surprised to see you – and understandably so – Kyōjurō mirrors the bright smile you give him as he joins you under the umbrella.

“What are you doing here, my love?” He takes your hand in his, brows furrowing when he feels how cold it is. “You’re freezing! How long have you been standing here? Are you waiting for someone?”

Kyōjurō starts to rub his hands over yours in an attempt to warm you up as he questions you, and a sigh of relief almost escapes your lips. Although his high body heat can be quit…inconvenient during the summer, it can be so useful during the winter. After all, you can already feel some sensation coming back to your frozen fingers.

You let out a small laugh at his question, “Who else would I be waiting for, silly? Of course I was waiting for you!”

“Me? Whatever for?” He tilts his head quizzically, only to pause when his hair brushes against something that is certainly not the umbrella itself.

Oh? Seems like Kyōjurō has found your surprise already! When he looks upwards, you mimic his action. And there, in all its green glory, is a sprig of mistletoe tied to one of the umbrella’s wooden ribs. It doesn’t look as perky as it did a few hours ago, but that’s no surprise considering how many tries it took you to tie it to the umbrella. Who knew tying a plant to an umbrella could be so hard?

After a few seconds of silence pass with the two of you just staring up at the plant, Kyōjurō speaks, sounding both extremely bewildered and amused, “Yadorigi…? What is it doing there?”

You’re unable to suppress a delighted beam as you start explaining. “You see, I heard from Shinobu that the people in the West use this plant for one of their winter traditions. They call it ‘mistletoe’.” You internally wince at how atrocious your pronunciation is comparing to Shinobu’s. But hey, since neither you nor Kyōjurō speak any English, who cares about the pronunciation? So long as he doesn’t try to repeat it to an actual English speaker, everything’s all good. “Apparently, any couple that stands underneath it are supposed to kiss.”

“Kiss?” He blinks owlishly in surprise. Clearly that was the last thing he had been anticipating you to say.

“Mhm. A delightful tradition, isn’t it?” You shift closer to him as you say that, looking at him expectantly.

For a moment, Kyōjurō simply looks back at you with somewhat of an unreadable expression. Then he smiles, lovingly cupping your cheek as he leans in close. “Well then, if it’s tradition, then I should follow it, shouldn’t I?”

Eagerly awaiting his kiss, your eyes flutter close. Except, you feel his lips land not on your own, but on the tip of your nose instead. Your eyes snap back open in confusion and you’re met with his playful gaze.

Tilting his head ever so innocently, he asks, “Is there something wrong, my love?”

So he wants to tease you a bit, eh? Alright then – you'll be nice and humor him.

“Oh dear, I believe there is. For a demon slayer, your aim is quite awful.” With a shake of your head, you let out a mock sigh of disapproval.

Kyōjurō raises an eyebrow, looking amused by your response. “I have a poor aim, hm? In that case, I suppose I need to keep practicing until I get better.”

And with that, he leans in once more…only to end up kissing your cheek.

“Missed again.” You say as you roll your eyes, though the corner of your lips are threatening to twitch upwards into a smile.

“As they say, practice makes perfect.” He grins at you before kissing your other cheek next. Then your forehead. Then each of your temples.

You close your eyes again, deciding to be patient and enjoy every kiss from him.

He brushes his lips ever so gently against your eyelids and peppers kisses along your jawline. At one point, he even kisses the shell of your ears.

And then finally, finally his lips press against yours. The kiss starts off soft at first, but when he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest, it grows deeper, more passionate. As you let yourself fall into the kiss, the umbrella begins to slip from your grasp and tilt to the side, snow beginning to gently falling over both of you. That’s when Kyōjurō pulls away and takes the umbrella from your hand, readjusting it so it’s properly covering the two of you again. You open your eyes with a whine and try to lean in for another kiss.

He chuckles, lightly pressing a finger against your lips. “We can always continue later. If we continue to stay out here, you’ll turn to ice. Why don’t we go get some udon to warm ourselves up?”

Contrary to his concerns, your body feels quite warm from the kiss. However, his tone is firm and leaves no room for argument, so you reluctantly agree with a pout. “Fine… But you better make it up to me after we go home.”

“Of course. Whatever my love asks for, I shall deliver.”

He gives you a loving smile as he reaches out and adjusts your scarf so that it’s snug and warm around your neck. Then, unable to resist himself, he leans in and steals a kiss from you. You laugh lightly and slip your hand into his, entwining your fingers together as the two of you begin walking through the snow.

“Perhaps we should start following this tradition every year from now on.” Briefly glancing up, you watch the sprig of mistletoe sway with every step Kyōjurō takes.

And perhaps, you’ll start tying mistletoe all around the house, just like Shinobu suggested.

[yandere-wishes]

Back story about those two friends who got married!

So I got close to the mother back when we started going to college together and the three of us (the intp libra and myself ofc) would often go to class together. One day one of our friends told us that he had a crush on her we'll call him A. He started getting really kind of pushy with her and she always thought it was a little weird but she's kind of the quiet and shy type so we didn't know what her thoughts were. But, we were sure that she liked him back because she would often tease him and whatnot. She would often send him silly Snapchats too, his crush got really intense. She sent him a pic for two movie tickets (it was spiderman lol) and literally everyone thought she was trying to make him jealous or she was toying with him.

Turns out, the one watching the movie with her was her future hubby.

When we found that out, A blamed all of us for hyping him up. We all apologized because we really thought she liked him back but I tore into him because he was being a massive jerk and even started sending her dumb texts via Instagram and Whatsapp. Weird dude.

Those two dated and last summer they had a mini island 2 week vacation in Croatia. Few months later though, my INTP friend is sending me panicked messages that the entp girl, bride, whatever lol, wants to talk to her and it has to be face to face. She never does stuff like that so it was intense!

Next day, those two pulled me inside the bathroom and guess what - she was pregnant! I saw the ultrasound lmao.

They got engaged are got married. I did not attend that ceremony because they kept it very private, immediate family ONLY which I can respect.

Also, fun fact - one of our professors got married the exact same day!! He was literally outside room with his own bride, waiting for those two to be done LMAOOO that was funny. The professors bride was a former student of his. But that is a different can of worms ;)

okay, this is when you know you have succeeded in life. When your people start thinking your love life is straight from a 90's romance flick!! Girlie is out there living the best life IMO!!

Also, love that she and her future husband decided to go see Spiderman as their first movie together. Mad respect!! But honestly, A is super creepy and totally a Jerk. You can't blame anyone just cause someone you have a crush on likes someone else. Good Job tearing him a new one, that guy definitely needed to be put back in his place!! Like seriously dude chill!!

I'm laughing so hard at the image of a college professor waiting for one of his students to finish their ceremony so he can get married. 🤣🤣

Was the professor at least close in age with the student?? Regardless still feels very wrong 💀💀

[orbleglorb]

now that more ppl are offline (and probably won't see it): here's a full mourning of blaseball, i guess.

warnings for suicide and mental health treatment. pls don't reblog this lol i just need it off my chest

i, like many others, discovered blaseball during the pandemic. i discovered it in... august? maybe? i think i "joined" around season 7, and really joined around season 10.

2020 was a rough year for me. 2021 was, too. in january 2021, i went to a residential treatment center. i was there until august 2021 (which is actually an incredibly short stay). the expansion era (seasons 12-24) happened march 2021 thru july 2021. it ended july 30th. i got out august 6th. literally like 6 fucking days. i am still pissed about this btw

anyway! i was 15 when i joined blaseball. im 18 now. im an adult. my first team, back in summer o' 2020, was the boston flowers. then i fluted to the shoe thieves. then the lift. and i was with the data witches during the coffee cup. i had fun on all of those teams! i even roleplayed some characters on twitter (i ran one of the val hitherto accounts, a kit honey account and jason datablase). (if you remember me from the first rp server i am so sorry. i don't remember what i said/did but im 90% sure it sucked).

throughout treatment, i kept blaseball close to my heart. my friends were able to send me letters, and i asked them to keep me updated on blaseball. they didn't, and at first, i was pretty upset. but when i got back, i understood why. there's really no way to explain the expansion era. even the wiki struggled. there was just.... so much. all the time. (although, when i broke up with my then-gf via mail, she sent me back a long letter explaining everything that happened in blaseball between seasons 12 and... 16? maybe?). nevertheless, my love for the splort persisted. i wrote fanfic in treatment, despite not knowing whether or not these characters would be alive when i got to get on the internet again. in hindsight, i probably could have snuck on blaseball.com on the computers, but some of the staff were just cruel. i would have been banned from using the computers at all, or from being alone near devices, or maybe from going outside, if a TL was having a particularly bad day. all of that aside: i loved and i created within a space that, looking back, was hostile. more hostile than i realized. i drew so much art, none of which i will be posting because i couldn't use reference images and the anatomy is so bad. i also listened to the garages. god, i listened to so much garages. suicide warning for this last part of the paragraph -- the night i had decided to kill myself, i put on music while waiting for others to go to sleep, and in the feedback (night) came on. the "i don't know i'd get you back" really, really dug deep. obviously, i didn't commit, and i have blaseball to (partially) thank for that.

i wouldn't say blaseball, specifically, saved my life. i would have found other songs that made me feel okay. other communities, other interests. but blaseball offered all of that. and, above all: it offered a creative space.

blaseball is unique in that fans create player and team lore, but it still gives a foundation for these. it's easier than making your own story from scratch, and (sometimes) easier than making ocs for your favorite piece of media. allowing that much creativity in a place with the basic building blocks of plot and world building & not much else is what drove many ppl to enjoy blaseball, including me. especially in the pandemic, when everyone was low on energy and motivation. i haven't shared a sizeable fraction of the blaseball art and fics i have created. i created so much because of this game!

i am going to love these characters until the end of time. i am going to carry a piece of them with me forever. literally. i have so many blaseball headmates. and, truly, i do have them and other headmates to thank for helping me get out of that place. they've done more than blaseball itself has. but, blaseball was the right thing at the right time: a mixture of community, music, characters to project onto, and characters to photocopy into my brain forever (the last part wasn't intentional, of course, but it did help).

blaseball will always be important to me, as all of my special interests are, past and present. i am forever changed because of it, but like, i'm 98% sure it's for the better. like, homestuck changed me, but that was 70% for the worse, probably. so it didn't have as much of a negative impact on me as homestuck did! which, like, is a bar so low it's in the sixth circle stadium, but i'll count it as a win.

i don't know how to end this rant. really, it's been amazing. i love this community and will continue to. i will continue to create blaseball content for as long as my autistic heart latches onto it, which can be, like, another two months or another ten years. who knows? not me. and i have to be okay with not knowing.

im terrified this community is going to fall apart. i've made great friends here. i will love you all and follow you whether you go. just don't go where i can't follow (hockey rpf)

i love you, blaseblr mutuals. i love you, blaseball community. i have a love-hate relationship with you, blaseball sim. many teams, one league!

[jheqiawrites]

A Bug in a Hug

for @overworkedunderwhelmed

Cat Noir sighed, grateful for the freedom the suit provided as he leapt out his window and into the night.  The sounds of the city, the rush of the wind through his hair, the fierce pounding of his heart all helped him settle his mind after a long day like today.

The akuma fight that lasted late into the night hadn’t help his already messed up sleep schedule, so he had slept through his alarm and that resulted in a lecture on responsibility and punctuality from his father.  That by itself made him late for school and, having missed breakfast, was distracted as well as tired during his morning classes.  He was ravenous by lunch time, but there was an akuma alert and he and Ladybug had to race all the way across town to stop Mr Pigeon again.  Granted it hadn’t taken long, but the time it took to get there and back meant there was no time for lunch.

Of course, it hadn’t been all bad.  Nino had been sympathetic and slipped him an apple from his own lunch, muttering imprecations towards Gabriel under his breath.  Alya sent him a sneak peek of her newest video, “Cat Noir’s Gymnastic Prrrowess is Unmatched”.  Marinette must have heard his stomach rumbling, for she was later than usual for afternoon classes, all but crashing through the classroom door after lunch and dropping a large bag of warm pastries in his lap as she stumbled to her seat.  

It wasn’t just the pastries that warmed him.  He went all gooey inside at her thoughtfulness.  She genuinely cared about her friends, but the fact that she seemed to pay special attention to him specifically left Adrien wanting to just pull her into his arms and not let her go.  Of course, when he tried to thank her for them after school, he couldn’t find the words and she scampered off sporting those rosy cheeks he was starting to adore.  He waited for what seemed like a short eternity for her to emerge from the locker room, but he got a text from his bodyguard saying he had a last minute photoshoot and that ruined any chance of getting a hug from his crush that day.

Things went from disappointing to frustrating at the photoshoot where Lila hung off of him like a leech in a dark orange bikini, a mental image that made Adrien nauseous even as it filled his head with shudder worthy images he was sure would either make him sick or a permanent insomniac.  

“Why do we have to shoot for swimsuit season in January anyway,” he groaned internally.  “It’s so stupid!  Wouldn’t it make more sense to do it in summer when people actually need swimsuits?”

Stupid or not, Lila’s normal, attention seeking ways meant the photoshoot dragged on for hours and Adrien was kept so busy with reshoots that he missed a text from Nino.

Best Bro: Hey, dude, did you see Marinette before you left?  Alya said she just ran off again.  Lila said she seemed pretty upset before she left for the shoot.  Do you know what is going on?

The thought of Marinette being upset and him being trapped with Lila right afterwards was the final straw on this particular camel’s back.  By the time he got home, he was wound as tight as a top and if he didn’t go for a run he thought he might explode at the next person to talk to him.  Plagg didn’t even complain when he transformed.

“Ugh!  Why does Father insist I model with Lila,” he thought, a low growl rumbling in his throat and a sneer pulling at his upper lip.  “She is such a mess to work with!  Everyone is tired of her antics on set!  I mean, if he had to pick someone for me to model with why couldn’t he have picked any other girl in my class?  Why couldn’t he have picked Marinette?”  Of course, his frazzled brain then tried to put Marinette into said bikini and he completely blanked. “No.  There is no way Marinette would wear an orange bikini!  It would wash her out too much.  But… pink?  Maybe black?  Oh, and ruffles!”  Pretty soon, he had created such a detailed photoshoot in his mind with one extremely cute classmate in a draped, pink two piece with soft black ruffles and matching cherry blossom decals crossing her chest like the wrap of a qipao when he realized that he was ogling his friend in his imagination.  Blushing furiously, he jerked his head back to reality only to trip over a gutter, hurtle twenty feet through the night air, and land in an undignified skid on a random rooftop.

“Cat?!”

The sound of his partner’s startled voice brought him popping up like a daisy.  “Yeah, LB?”

“Don’t yeah me!  Are you okay?”  The familiar hiss and twang of her yoyo heralded her flipping backwards through the air and landing delicately next to him, arms held out to pull him to his feet.  “What happened?  Is there another akuma?”

He accepted her help and brushed himself off as nonchalantly as possible, hoping his mask hid most of his burning cheeks.  “Not that I know of.  Just a little distracted I guess.”

Ladybug snorted, her pink lips twisted in an amused smirk.  “Are you saying you shouldn’t think and drive, Kitty?”

He didn’t restrain the laugh that bubbled out of him.  This was another reason to love being Cat Noir.  He had the most amazing partner in the world and she always made him laugh like he meant it.  He didn’t have to hold back with her.  She just let him be himself.

Kind of like another girl he knew.

“What are you doing out tonight, Bug,” he asked, taking her in and seeing the slight telltale signs of weariness in her eyes, the tenseness of her shoulders, the slight shift in the balance of her stance.

She sighed heavily, clutching one arm around her stomach and the other hand holding her elbow in a sort of clumsy self hug. She twitched her shoulders in a halfhearted shrug.  “I was just…feeling trapped.  I had a rough day and I just… needed to breathe.”

Cat nodded.  “Yeah.  Sorry about that.  Me too.”  He collapsed into a crossed legged seat on the rooftop and patted the shingle next to him.  “Here, pull up a tile and tell me about it.”

She opened her mouth hesitantly, then closed it again and sat beside him.  Gone were the days of her pushing him away, but she was still strict about them keeping their identities a secret. But she had started opening up a bit more, letting them vent to each other about the problems in their lives as long as they didn’t mention anything too recognizable.

Ladybug let out a long sigh, sending a misty cloud up into the amber glow of the city night.  “Well, it’s never a good day when you only get four hours sleep, is it?”

It was his turn to snort derisively.  “Did you oversleep too?”

“I wish,” she grumbled, leaning her head against his shoulder.  “I ended up with a leg cramp half an hour before my alarm was supposed to go off and fell out of bed.”

“Oh, poor bug,” he crooned, putting his arm around her carefully, resting his hand on her shoulder.  This would give her the most warmth and the least stress… he hoped.  He knew she got cold easily in the winter and he never minded playing her space heater, especially once he had admitted to himself that he had more than a simple crush on Marinette.  “If only she would let me hold her like this,” he thought wistfully.

“Yeah and then a friend of mine was having a bad day,” she continued, huddling into his side as a chill breeze ruffled her pigtails.

“They didn’t take it out on you, did they?”

She shook her head.  “Oh, no.  He would never do that.  At least, I don’t think he would.  He’s too gentle.”  She sighed.  “Some of his family are… difficult to get along with and are super uptight about every little thing he does.  He is normally so bright and cheerful, even when I know he is having a hard time, always a smile or a helping hand for everyone.  He’s just got a beautiful soul and I hate to see him so down that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.”  He heard her sniffle and she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder as if to banish tears.

“Then there was that akuma at lunch. Ugh!  And it was all the way across town!  I ended late to school because I stopped by my place to grab something to keep my stomach from rumbling during class and ended up using those two minutes stuffing goodies into a bag in the hopes of cheering my friend up.  He tried to thank me for it after school, but I had just dumped it in his lap as I dashed into class and I was so embarrassed I ran to hide in the bathroom.  I somehow always make a fool of myself in front of him.  I mean, we’ve been friends for three years now so he knows me well enough, I guess, but I just hate when that happens, you know?”

Cat grunted an affirmative, his head aching as pressure began to build between his temples.  Her words echoed oddly, as if he had heard them before.

“And then, wouldn’t you know it, this girl who has been bullying me for years comes sauntering up with the school liar and they start lighting into me about how my friend will never like someone as boring and ugly as me and that I’m not worth the air I breathe and I wanted so much to just transform and set them knocking like a set of Newton’s Balls, but then the liar said that she was going to get to spend the rest of the day with him and he would have to hold her close and there was nothing I could do about it-“

Pain arched through his head like lightning and he started purring weakly, not his happy purr, but rather one that was short and raspy.  A cat’s self soothing response.  He was shaking like a leaf, his breath coming too fast, his heart racing, and his mouth as dry as dust.

“I’m… sure he’d rather have spent the day with you,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Cat, are you okay?”

No, he wasn’t okay.  His head was spinning on a merry-go-round of pain and he wanted nothing more than for someone to stop the world so he could get off.  “How is this possible?  The same things happened to me!  Being late, the akuma being far away, bringing treats to a friend, her running away from him.”

“What… what would you have said … to your friend, if you hadn’t been embarrassed, I mean.”  His voice was low, but strained along with every last inch of him, mind, body, and heart, reaching out for an answer… for a forgotten wish from years ago that was shattered when the mouse miraculous came off and Marinette had handed it to Ladybug.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his middle. “I don’t know.  Maybe told him he is amazing and I care about him a lot.  Maybe that he should just come and live with me and my parents and we would give him all the love and affection his father is too self important to provide.  Maybe that I had spent two years loving him so fiercely that it made me a bumbling, word-spewing mess every time he talked to me.  That I had made plan after plan to confess my feelings and only stopped when I -“

Her words were swallowed with a loud gulp and he could feel her shudder against him.  He turned to her and lifted her chin so she would meet his eyes.

“When you gave him a miraculous,” he murmured, his chest aching with the thunderous beating of his heart.  “When his cousin took it and stole the miraculous?”

She pulled away and hid her face in her hands, making him feel the cold for the first time.  “You shouldn’t know.  I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“What happened, my lady?  If Adrien Agreste is your … I mean, why give up when you care for him so much?”

Ladybug pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them.  “Because he never saw me as more than just a friend and I tried to tell him, Cat!  Over and over I tried, but I’m a total spaz without the spots!  It’s no wonder he just thinks of me as a friend!  I’m everyone’s friend!”  She laughed and there was a hysterical edge to her voice.  “Do you know what he calls me?”

“What?”  His mouth had gone dry as his stomach bottomed out.  He knew… he knew the irony of his choices now and it was killing him by inches.

“You’re talking to Adrien Agreste’s Everyday Ladybug,” she said bitterly and he flinched at the pain she didn’t express.  “It’s not his fault.  He is just too pure and good for this world and I’m just me.  Li- that girl was right.  Without the mask I’m hardly miraculous.”  The tears were falling thick and fast now and she tried to bury her face in her arms.  “Sorry I’m not good company tonight, Cat.  Maybe you should just-“

Cat couldn’t stand it anymore.  He turned and roughy pulled her into the tightest hug he could manage.  “Don’t ever say that!  You are amazing and strong and brave and beautiful, Marinette!”  She gasped and tried to jerk out of his arms, but he refused to let her go.  “Don’t ever let Lila or Chloe or anyone else steal the joy that is in you!  You have spent the last three years fighting everything Monarch can throw at you and winning.  I can’t even begin to understand how you have managed it all!  All they have is words and, yes, they can hurt, but only you can let them dim your spirit.  The Marinette that I love can overcome anything!”

He pulled back and cradled her face in his hands.  “As for the rest, I have spent almost all day thinking about you!  You, Marinette! Not Ladybug!  You gave up your chance to grab lunch in favor of bringing me a bag of treats because you knew I was hungry!  You have been the one who has seen me through all my dark days!  You are my candle on the water!  I would never have gotten this far without you and that has nothing to do with the mask.  It is just you, Marinette!  I call you my princess for a reason!”

She stared at him, mouth open in shock, tears still trickling down her face.  Her eyes were so wide he could almost fall into them and be swept away by the maelstrom of emotions that stormed within.

“It…you… Adrien?!”

He chuckled nervously.  “Eh…hehe… surprise?”

She grabbed his head roughly and turned it this way and that, searching his face with all the intensity she had ever applied to a lucky charm.

“All this time… you were… and I was… and then Felix and…”

Her voice grew higher as her face darkened behind her mask.  With the quantum masking broken, he could see the two merging into one before his eyes.  Ladybug’s brilliance and problem solving blended with Marinette’s uncertainty and gentle heart, both filling in the negative space caused by the mask.

he stroked the edges of her mask with his thumbs, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.  “All this time we’ve been mask-backwards.  You’ve been in love with Adrien and remained faithful to those feelings, leading you to keep rejecting Cat while I was so head over heels in love with Ladybug that I didn’t let myself see Marinette’s affection for the longest time.”  He pressed his forehead against hers.  “I’m so sorry, Princess.  I never meant to hurt you, not when you are the only person who really sees me.  You are so sweet and kind and thoughtful and amazing and beautiful.  You are everything to me!”

His Lady blinked at him several times, then threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“You’re not mad at me,” she whispered, her voice thick from crying.

“Why would I be?”  Cat pulled her into his lap and she curled herself tightly against his chest. He stroked her back and breathed deep of her sweet scent, lavender and almond cookies.  “Because you loved me and I loved you, but we had the wrong sides put together?  Never.”

“I said you were too good for this world,” she mumbled, rubbing her cheek against his collarbone and sending a deep blush passed his cheeks and all the way up into his hair.

“You’re my world, Marinette.”  Greatly daring, he pressed a soft kiss to her hair, delighting in the tiny squeak she gave.  “I’d sorry I figured you out and revealed myself the way I did, but I was worried you would be akumatized and you needed to know-“  

She lifted her eyes, no longer storm shadowed, and pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.  Her cheeks burned like roses in the dark.  “No.  It was time.  You see… I’ve want to tell Cat who I am for ages.”

“Really?!”

Ladybug nodded shyly.  “Yeah.  You see, I’ve been torn between both sides of you for so long and I thought I had lost Cat by being so stupidly in love with Adrien and… well…”

She gave a little shrug.  “Can you forgive me, Kitty?  For making a royal mess of things all these years?”

He snorted.  “Hey, at least you weren’t the one who compared the love of your life with your ever so platonic ‘just a friend’.”  He made little air quotes with his clawed fingers and she giggled at him.  “I can’t believe I called you our Everyday Ladybug and you are the ACTUAL Ladybug!”

“Hmmm, true.  That should have been a tip off right there,” she mused.  “Did you ever really stop to think that one through?”

He nudged her shoulder.  “Hey, being called our ‘Everyday Ladybug’ was my way of telling you that you were an everyday hero, that you were already one without the mask or powers!  You are just that amazing, Marinette! Besides, it’s a better than ‘Buttercup!’  I could never understood why you called Luka that silly nickname anyway.”

“Lu-l-luka?!”  Her spluttering was so intense she started to cough and choke.  “Why on earth would you think I would call him ‘Buttercup?’”

He looked down at her, confused.  “Um, hello?  Your balcony?  Practicing your confession to ‘Buttercup’?  ‘Three suns that burn your lips?’”

“That was ages ago!  How do you remember that?!?!?”

He smirked.  “It’s not everyday you find yourself being used as a stand in for your best friend’s love interest and are attack by a giant ice cream man for it!”

Ladybug reached up and flicked him smartly on the end of his nose, making it sting.  “Buttercup was you, Adrien.”

A wave of heat swelled in his chest and seemed to take over his whole body.  He didn’t think he had ever been both that pleased and embarrassed at the same time before in his life.  “Please, my Lady, if you really love me, never call me that again.  Nino would never let me live it down.”

It was her turn to smirk and it nearly drove away the last bit control he had left.  “Oh, I’m pretty sure he knows.  Remember who his girlfriend is?”

Cat facepalmed dramatically.  “Alya is going to be the death of me.”

She giggled and wrapped him in a hug once more.  “That’s why we’re a team, right?  I have to keep my Kitten safe, you know.”

“Oh really.  And how do you plan to do that, lady mine,” he purred.

Suddenly her hands were in his hair and she pulled him down into a kiss that burned everything else from his mind.

“How about I stop you from talking for start?”

His purr strengthened until they both vibrated with it like violin strings in the dark.

“Sounds good to me, my love,” he murmured, his heart so full he felt ready to float up into the sky with her forever.  “As long as you’ll have me.”

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 19

((It’s hard to queue up, the summer school kids are bonkers and wear me out. But I’m still kicking~))

“What? Me?” Marcy’s tone was almost identical to a flustered Oldarva’s, and Nyota had to clench her jaw to keep from laughing at the mental image of an apex-Marcy fluffed up like Eldie did. “I mean, I’m flattered, sure, but I don’t think I would be much good for you? I don’t even know if I passed those last history tests.”

Amusement pulled the smile back to Lana’s lips. “Wait to hear what she wants from you first,” she advised.

Nyota found herself mirroring Lana’s smile as she put a reassuring hand on Marcy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she said. “This isn’t the kind of history that you’ll be tested on later. We don’t even know the right answers yet. That’s where we would need you.”

“I still don’t follow,” Marcy said. “I mean, I’m good at research, yes—” Her eyes lit up as it clicked. “But that’s all you need, isn’t it?”

“That would be quite helpful, dear,” Esther confirmed happily. “These old eyes aren’t as quick as they used to be, and two minds work sharper than one, you know.” She adjusted her glasses and started rummaging through a canvas bag that was fastened to the side of her wheelchair. “Now, where did I put it…? I know it’s here somewhere.”

Marcy hesitated. “Would I need to come here to help you?” she asked, twisting a lock of hair around her fingertip. “I don’t know if my parents would like that much. We’ve already been out for a while, and it’s a bit of a hike to the teleporter. I’ll have to ask them.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear,” Esther said. Her voice was a bit muffled as she leaned over for a better look into the back. “I say, if—aha, here it is! Take this with you.” She held out a slim electronic notebook. “Don’t worry, it is sturdier than it looks. This is my old laptop. It has most of my research on it, so you’re welcome to look through that if you like.”

“Oh wow.” Marcy took the laptop, careful to support it with one hand beneath. “You’re serious about that?”

“Of course!” Esther chuckled. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious. Nyota and Lana here can tell you that. More important than the research, though, is that I have managed to sneak a few upgrades onto it, based on what little I understand of the Ark’s technology. You should be able to contact me at any time with this. You might even be able to get in touch with Nyota, too, given that I can reach her myself.”

Nyota reached over and very gently pushed up under Marcy’s chin.

Marcy closed her mouth, looked at the laptop, handed it to Nyota, and went as if to hug Esther, but remembered herself and offered a handshake instead, which Esther accepted with another warm laugh. “Thank you very much, ma’am. This means more than I can say. Really.”

“Well, I’m glad you like it so much,” Esther said. The laugh-lines across her wrinkled face deepened as she patted Marcy’s hand. “I’m just glad that it can see some more use again. It still runs quite nicely. Now, I probably shouldn’t keep you, if you are worried about being away from home too long, but I can send you more information about what I’m researching once you’re home. How does that sound, dear?”

“That sounds lovely,” Marcy told her. She stepped back and took the laptop back from Nyota, holding it close. “I’ll try not to let you down.”

“You’ll do just fine. Would you like a mint humbug?”

“So, you planned this?” Lana asked quietly, stepping up beside Nyota as Marcy accepted the sweet from Esther. The low, heavy syllables of the Apex language felt both jarring and sweet against the backdrop of Esther’s Galactic Common.

“Not completely,” Nyota confessed. She kept her eyes on Marcy and her voice low to respect Lana’s clear wish for a private conversation. “I haven’t seen her since… since the Ruin destroyed Earth. We… both thought the other had died in the aftermath.” She swallowed, uselessly, against the faint lump in her throat. “I had to tell her about Isobu.”

A tiny gasp caught in Nyota���s throat and rattled into a low sound of gratitude as she felt Lana’s fingers curl around hers.

“It’s alright,” Nyota tried to tell her, as if she believed it. “We had a good cry. She will need time to come to terms with it, of course…”

“You still haven’t.”

Nyota flinched. A good part of her was furious—how dare Lana read her so easily, and say it out loud, something Nyota had never even admitted to herself? But… “So you remember,” she murmured.

“Of course I do.” Lana leaned close; Nyota could feel short fur whispering against her ear. “That night is when I let myself love you.”

Nyota felt the blood rush into her ears but she didn’t mind. She just leaned back against Lana’s shoulder, scarf cushioning her hair, the smell of steel and summer around her. The sorrow and indignity melted. Lana said she loved her. Nothing else mattered in the world. Nyota’s lips opened in a quiet chuckle. How absolutely maudlin.