#before dawn to bring them back home and very gently taking bugs off of them so they can lay pod down without crushing anyone

[trollbreak]

Thinkin bout podsol…

[non-un-topo]

College, Car Seats, and Creamy Pasta (ficlet)

(This title, idk.) So I’ve been having feelings lately about the old guard with babies in modern aus, so here’s an experimental, kind of self-indulgent ficlet filled with extreme amounts of softness and bébé feels <3

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There’s an infamous story all the way back from college that Joe loves to share which involves Andy drunkenly rolling her ankle on a beach and Joe having to carry her home--though, she could have walked, but Joe demanded to carry her--and fashioning an ice pack out of the only things he could find in his and Nicky’s tiny, decrepit apartment: A condom, and some ice from a small McDonald’s sprite (their freezer was broken when they moved in).

He lives to tell that story every chance he gets. Especially now, as he reaches into Andy and Quỳnh’s (much bigger and much colder) freezer nearly fifteen years later to retrieve a not-homemade ice pack and wrap it in a clean dishtowel for Andy’s poor crotch.

She’s lounging on the couch, even though she’s proven that she can walk, but Joe doesn’t mind, as she reaches back for the ice pack and shoots him a sly smile that says, Yeah, I know exactly which story you’re thinking about. He bats his eyelashes innocently back.

It’s a balmy Friday evening and Quỳnh’s still at work, though likely on her way home, so Joe has taken the liberty of cooking dinner. Andy begged to order a pizza, but Joe was not having it. And he thought himself to be the lax one of the bunch. If Nicky were in the kitchen at the time, it would have been anarchy.

“Thanks, Joe,” Andy says, as she settles into a more comfortable position on the couch with her ice pack, sighing. He adjusts the pillows at her back, which causes her to snort and slap his hand away.

“I’m not dying.”

Joe sniffs. “Yeah, coulda fooled me. How much did that baby weigh again?”

Andy laughs out a quiet, fuck off. “Nine pounds, eight ounces,” she says, quick as a whip.

“God…”

The baby, the reason for Joe and Nicky’s visit to Andy and Quỳnh’s apartment, is fairly chunky, sure, but he looks awfully tiny and pink, especially when he’s wearing his little hat. The hat with little lamb ears that Nicky painstakingly knit for him months ago, when he was barely more than a bump, that rarely leaves his soft little head. Nicky hadn’t even known how to knit at the time.

The baby’s name is Lykon, after a childhood friend of Andy and Quỳnh. Lykon was born at 4:26 AM on Monday. It’s Friday evening. Joe and Nicky have not left the apartment since Andy and Quỳnh brought him home.

And neither Andy nor Quỳnh have physically kicked them out, so Joe is staying right here.

Nicky had disappeared a few minutes ago to go change the baby while Andy napped, but he reappears then, slinking into the living room with Lykon held against his shoulder--he’s so little in Nicky’s hands, they almost swallow him--and Joe smiles at his husband in greeting before doing a double-take.

“Babe,” Joe says, and Andy cranes her neck to try and see Nicky over the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

Nicky continues his journey across the living room floor--lunges, he’s doing lunges. Deep ones that make Joe’s eyebrows jump up in appreciation.

Nicky releases a finger from his gentle grip on the baby’s head and presses it to his lips. “Shush.”

“You trying to get your ass workout in while carrying my son? Really?” Andy asks.

Nicky’s response is whispered so softly, Joe can hardly hear him. “This is the only way I can get him to sleep.”

“Put him in the car seat,” Andy says, like it’s the most simple solution in the world.

“He likes it,” Nicky argues, still whispering.

Andy only shrugs. “Okay, but if he spits up on you…”

And right on cue, Joe hears a tiny gurgle, and there’s baby puke sliding down Nicky’s back.

Andy doesn’t say, told you so, but she doesn’t need to. Her smug grin is enough. With a poorly hidden pout, Nicky reluctantly hands the baby, who is now crying quiet little wobbly squeals, to Andy.

“You know,” Andy says, “you guys don’t have to stay. You have other commitments, I know.”

It’s the first time since Lykon’s birth that she’s said something like that, and Joe is only moderately surprised to feel a sudden onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Or not,” she says, quickly. “We really appreciate your help, boys, it’s just… We don’t want to keep you.”

“Andy, shut up.”

She laughs, loud and open-mouthed. “Okay, Joe, okay. I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Nicky says. Then he leans over the couch to peer into Lykon’s squishy little face. “And we especially love you.”

His voice changes when he talks to the baby. While Joe can’t control the way his voice raises several octaves and the way he coos gibberish, Nicky’s voice softens and hushes to something so comfortable, barely audible. It’s the way he would talk to a fussy toddler, Joe thinks, given the opportunity. He would level his eyes with them and speak to them like a person equal to him, providing the safest and most non-judgemental space for them.

Joe thinks. He hasn’t had many opportunities to see his husband speak with toddlers.

“I would be worried about you guys kidnapping him,” Andy says, “but I think it only counts as kidnapping if you leave the apartment.”

Joe snorts, and then he hears the water boiling over on the stove, so he dashes.

When Joe met Andy and Quỳnh, he had been a wide-eyed twenty-year-old, freshly out of the closet and already hopelessly in love. Well, that hasn’t changed, which always delights him to realize, after all these years. It was the love of his young life--Nicky, of course--who introduced him. Andy and Nicky were family friends, more like siblings, really, and of course Andy and Quỳnh had been together since the dawn of time. It took Joe no time at all to find a family in the four of them, inseparable as they all were.

Andy and Quỳnh had actually surprised him when they started talking about kids. That unexpected and world-changing conversation had been the beginning of a long and at times heartbreaking four years, before they finally got their donor, then suffered through a little over a year of IVF. They had almost given up, Joe remembers, between the frustration and the arguments and doctors telling Andy her eggs were too old. But, there he was, at the end of the journey, coming into the world flipping off everyone who said they couldn’t do it: Baby Lykon, the little warrior.

Joe remembers all of it vividly. The phonecall when they told him and Nicky they were pregnant, the panic to help them find a bigger apartment, the indulgent shopping trips, though Andy tried to keep a cap on those, and the weight and warmth of the baby in Joe’s arms the very first time he held him, barely thirty minutes after he’d been born.

Joe had sobbed, of course (something Andy and Quỳnh had anticipated so strongly they bet money on how long he cried for), and he looked into the baby’s big brown eyes and promised him the world.

They had talked about kids. Of course, they had. He and Nicky. But life was busy, and in the last five years between Joe finishing his dissertation and Nicky’s mother getting sick, the subject of kids just hadn’t come up. Besides, Joe thinks now, he’s only thirty-three.

Quỳnh comes home as he’s dishing up dinner for everyone--a creamy, cheesy pasta, because it’s the best comfort food--and her eyes brim with tears when she gets to hold Lykon again. She hasn’t been able to get a lot of time off work, even after becoming a new parent, which Joe thinks is frankly outrageous, but the work she does as a crisis counsellor is of course monumentally important.

They huddle around the couch to eat dinner, but Nicky pulls up one of the rickety chairs from the kitchen table and sits next to the baby, who is snoozing in his car seat on top of the coffee table. Joe doesn’t know how he does it, but Nicky manages to eat his dinner, drink enough water, and hold a conversation while keeping Lykon’s car seat rocking gently so he doesn’t wake up and scream.

Joe watches him as he chews his pasta mindfully and leans close to peer into the car seat. Beautiful. He’s always so beautiful, especially now. The way he looks at Lykon--their nephew, Joe realizes, elated--makes Joe’s head spin off his shoulders. He feels like he’s twenty.

“Crazy how tiny he is,” says Quỳnh, her voice soft and reverent. She already sounds so much like a parent. Joe’s eyes are still on his husband, so he sees how brightly Nicky smiles at that.

Andy makes an indignant noise. “Shut the fuck up.”

Quỳnh laughs, though she tries with obvious effort to keep quiet. She pulls Andy closer, her arm draped over her shoulder, and presses three kisses to her cheek. Then Quỳnh catches Joe’s eye and winks.

Andy shovels another forkful of pasta into her mouth and moans as she chews. With a full mouth, she says, “Joe, this is perfect. Please, boys, never leave.”

Joe shrugs bashfully, pretending to be shy. “It’s Nicky’s recipe.”

“What did you use,” Quỳnh asks.

Joe hums. He juts his chin to the kitchenette. “Your parmesan, mostly, and that fancy milk.”

“What fancy milk,” Andy asks, absolutely stuffing her face.

“Y’know.” Joe waves a hand. Chews, swallows. “The milk in the fancy bag, from the fridge.”

Andy and Quỳnh both stop eating, their eyes bugging out. Quỳnh slaps a hand over her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh and clearly choking a little, and Andy looks… Oh, Andy looks furious. Her face is red.

“J-” She forcefully lowers her voice, shooting a fearful glance at the baby. “Joe,” she whispers through her teeth. “Did you use my fucking breast milk?”

“Dio.” Nicky sticks his fork back into his dish.

“Oh,” Joe says, like an idiot. “Um.”

Andy’s cheeks puff out and somehow her face turns an even darker shade of red.

“I pumped…” she whispers, low and lethal, slow. “...For so… long…”

“There’s more in the fridge, babe,” Quỳnh says, and Joe fears for her life for a hot second. Then she brings her hand out to hover over Andy’s chest. “And it’s not like the tap is running dry, or whatever.”

“So I’m a milk bag.”

“A badass, sexy milk bag who--oh, who is murdering me with her eyes right now.” Quỳnh turns on Joe, then, scooping another forkful of breast-milk-pasta into her mouth and jabbing the fork in his direction. “You’re gonna be up all night paying my wife back for this, genius. See how skilfully you can wipe meconium from his bum.”

Joe only nods in shame. Fair enough.

Lykon signals that he’s awake, then, with a series of soft little snorty grunts that devolve very quickly into shrieking, wobbly sobs. Nicky launches into action with a speed that rivals the pitcrews at NASCAR. He lifts him from the car seat with such gentleness and oh, Joe’s heart breaks to see the baby’s little lips trembling as he cries, the way his little feet kick out against Nicky’s chest as he holds him over his forearms. Nicky is about to pass him to his moms when Quỳnh smiles softly up at him and says, “Looks like you’ve got him.”

He throws her a glance as if to ask, are you sure, and Quỳnh and Andy both nod. Joe’s sure they’re grateful to have the small amount of rest time and, looking at them now, curled together on the couch in their soft clothes, exchanging light kisses, he knows he and Nicky haven’t come close to overstaying their welcome.

“Look at you, Nico,” coos Andy as Nicky carefully holds the baby against his shoulder to peek at his diaper through the waistband his tiny pants. “You’re making us look bad.”

Nicky only chuckles lightly and shakes his head. The diaper must be clean, because he leaves it be and brings a hand up to cup the back of the baby’s wispy-haired head more steadily, and begins to hum, almost a whisper, and Joe’s heart flutters.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” Nicky asks Andy when the baby continues to fuss.

Turns out he is hungry, because he quiets almost immediately when Andy brings him to her chest. It’s not silent in the apartment--Joe can hear some sirens through the window on the streets far below, can hear the air conditioner groan to life, can hear Quỳnh and Nicky’s forks clink against their plates as they continue to eat the questionable breast-milk-pasta (good lord). And, Joe can hear the soft little grunts and snorts that the baby makes as he feeds.

Joe watches his oldest friends--they’re parents now, he can hardly believe it--as they huddle close on the couch and watch their son. Quỳnh wraps her arms under Andy’s so they’re both holding him, and his little chubby fist twitches and flings out every once in a while against Andy’s rolled-up shirt. His feet look impossibly small. Joe remembers the sounds he made when he and Nicky went shopping for all manner of baby supplies to help shave some stuff off Andy and Quỳnh’s list. He’d nearly sobbed when Nicky came up to the cart holding a pair of incredibly tiny socks (and then he had teared up and nearly passed out when Nicky popped the socks over his thumbs. A lot of people stared).

Joe would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been thinking of revisiting that store with Nicky every day since.

Now, he looks at his husband to find him already watching him, his heart in his eyes. Nicky slowly moves his gaze to their friends, to the baby, and Joe follows it. When their eyes meet again, Nicky’s are a little damp with tears, but he’s smiling, and there’s something inquisitive and hopeful in his eyes. Joe matches him and slowly, they both nod.

Yes.

[bookishofalder]

Night Changes [Epilogue]

Summary: The end.

Warnings: Language, smut, excessive fluff.

Poe always woke to the sound of ocean waves. Many times mixed with the noises Charlie made waking up, her soft cries pulling him from his sleep, or otherwise the sound of you soothing her. He tried to wake before you so that you could sleep in—he still felt he owed you so much time and rest for having to raise her on your own for so long.

Most days, he did naturally awaken before both of his girls. He would spend a few moments admiring you in the golden light of dawn that filtered through the soft linen curtains, enjoying the feel of your body warm against his, before slowly raising to creep from the room and go to Charlie in her nursery.

Today, however, he didn’t need to leave. Charlie was currently asleep in the guest room of their bungalow, a happy home on Yavin-4 that sat right along a sleepy beach. She was spending quality time with her visiting Aunt and Uncle—Rey and Finn. They’d insisted on the sleepover, claiming they wanted practice caring for a baby for when they were ready to have their own. You had hurriedly handed Charlie over, laughing, and wished them luck.

The house had been designed long to ensure most rooms could take advantage of the view of the water; Poe and you were on the opposite side from the guest room. Far enough that they couldn’t hear any crying if Charlie was awake. But Poe trusted his hapless friends, he wasn’t worried in the slightest.

And it meant he got extra alone time with you, uninterrupted.

Settling on Yavin-4 had been a desire you and Poe shared, the decision coming quickly when he first found you on Sorgan and the discussion of next steps came up. Dad was glad to move back, though he did sell his place and had a room next to the guest room, preferring to stay close to Charlie. Combined, the money you inherited from your parents, your brother, the family house you’d sold, and Poe’s money, the Dameron family was more than comfortable to retire and live peacefully on their home planet.

Poe built you a beach house, in a quiet corner of the jungle that was close enough by speeder to a mid-sized town, with a school for Charlie and markets, shops, a cantina. Aside from the occasional distant air traffic, his home was filled only with the sounds of the ocean, the giggles of his little girl and you, his dads' booming laugh. Charlie was nearly three now, and she was the happiest kid, full of attitude and drama but somehow it was so easy to make her smile, and Poe was the best at it. She was a daddy’s girl, you had said, not realizing how much that meant to him to hear.

As he stretched, you gave a soft snore next to Poe and an idea struck him. It had been a while since he’d last eaten you out while you slept, and his cock began to harden at the thought. With careful movements, he shimmied down the bed and ducked his head under the bedsheet, moving between your legs gently. Neither of you ever wore clothing to bed, so it made it easy for Poe to begin kissing your inner thigh as his hands spread your thighs.

When he had you bared, pretty and glistening, he resisted the urge to dive in and instead very slowly began to lap at your folds. Fuck, you always tasted delicious, he really could eat you out for hours happily, drinking you down like a fine wine. He licked at you for a while, his cock pressing into the mattress, only growing harder the wetter you got for him. When he finally pressed one finger into you, he felt you stir and smiled, keeping his movements slow as he gently sucked your clit.

“Shit,” You whimpered, your hips rolling at the same time your hands ripped back the covers, revealing Poe where he lay between your thighs. He grinned up at you, pressing his face harder against your core and licking, his tongue sliding over the sensitive nub as he worked a second finger inside of you. “Poe, I’m so close...”

He growled in response to your words, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside of you that made you see stars, and he felt the wet convulsions of your orgasm hit, listened to the sounds of your moans. He kept his eyes on your face, delighting in the way your pleasure contorted your expression, your brows furrowed and your lower lip between your teeth. He worked you through the high, swallowing everything you gave him until you collapsed back into the cushions.

“Wow,” You breathed heavily, and Poe crawled up next to you on the bed with a smirk. “Haven’t had a wake-up call like that in a while. Do you think Finn and Rey would stay a few days more?”

Poe laughed, “Actually, I do. They’re obsessed with Bug,” He leaned down and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Now, sweet girl, you think you can take my cock, now that I’ve warmed you up?” He whispered low in your ear, and you moaned in response.

Poe rolled you on top of him, then pushed himself up the bed so that he was sitting against the headboard and you were straddling his lap. Your hands automatically traced along the muscles of his chest, tickling slightly when you lowered them to his abs. Once he was settled, you reached down further and took hold of him, grinning when he groaned aloud at the feel of you squeeze his cock, then raised your hips, beginning to sink yourself onto him.

“Fuck, Poe,” Your head lolled back as you worked to take him, while Poe watched you, his hands now gripping your hips. He dropped his gaze to your soft stomach, his mind suddenly moving toward a thought he’d been holding back from you, not sure if it was the right time to bring it up. Things were so perfect, now, that he didn’t want to upset the balance.

But if Poe was being honest, he had been imagining Charlie having a sibling. The idea of making another baby with you, seeing you swell and getting to be there for the entire pregnancy, the birth, had been on his mind a lot lately. Now, as you sat in his lap, his cock fully splitting you, the thought of getting you pregnant made him pulse with desire. He leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, groaning as you began to roll your hips.

“Sweet girl,” He sighed, kissing a trail up your chest and neck, “So perfect, always so perfect for me.” He raised one hand to your head, pushing into your hair and gripping you, angling your head to capture your lips against his as he snapped his hips up to meet you.

You whimpered with each thrust, the sounds swallowed by Poe as he kissed you hard, trying to hold back his thoughts, distracting himself. He should have known it would never work on you—you could read him like a book.

“P-Poe, baby,” You pulled back a little, hips slowing, “What’s going on? You’re far away.” Your pupils were blown wide, skin flushed deliciously.

“It’s nothing,” He felt you drop your weight, settling into his lap but stilling your movements entirely. Your hands reached up from his chest to cup his cheeks, and you frowned at him. “Honestly, sweetheart.”

“It’s not like you to lie to me, Poe Dameron,” Your eyes searched his for a moment, then your frown brightened and you gave him a soft smile. “Would you just say it, flyboy?”

He stared at you, “Say...say what?”

You giggled, both of you gasping slightly at the way your cunt squeezed him in response. “I’ve caught you staring at me, a few times recently. Noticed that you get lost in thought, but then just smile and hide it away. I’m your wife,” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “You can say anything to me.”

Poe nodded, dropping his hands to your waist, “I know, it’s just, things are so fucking perfect,” He replied, his eyes locked on yours, “I don’t want to say something that makes you feel like I don’t think it is.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

He bit his lip, gazing at you in all of your beautiful glory; the sun streaming through the open window bathed you in the golden morning light, your eyes bright and every stunning curve bared to him. Why the two of you always found yourselves having serious discussions amid sex, he’d never understood.

“I want another baby—I’ve been thinking it for a while, but I just haven’t been sure how to mention it.” He broke off, glancing away from you to look out at the ocean, the waves fairly calm this morning. You leaned your head down, catching his eyes again, and smiled widely at Poe. His heart stuttered nervously in his chest.

“Oh, my love,” You cooed, brushing one hand through his hair, “Even when we don't realize it, we’re always on the same page. I’d love to have another baby.”

Poe let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “Are-are you sure, sweet girl?”

Your smile never faltered, the warmth in your eyes so intense he swore he could feel the heat of it—of you. “I’ll go this week to see the Healers, have them remove my implant.” And before he could reply, your lips were on his and you started to roll your hips, clenching tight around him perfectly, deliciously.

Your movements were filled with intent, sending Poe the message that you were serious, that you felt the same. His heart swelled, the happiness flowing through him almost overwhelming—how had he gotten so lucky, with you? He didn’t understand, still to this day, how he deserved you. And yet every day you continued to show him how strong your love was, right down to understanding his thoughts before he did.

“Fuck,” He hissed against you, pressing his forehead into yours as you rode him, “Going to keep you full of my cum, sweet girl, fuck you every chance we get.”

Your whimper was enough to drag Poe towards the edge, that feeling of falling upward in your arms so close he had to quickly lower one hand to rub circles over your clit—he never left you wanting. He punched his hips up, groaning, picturing how you’d look carrying another baby, remembering how horny you had been when you were pregnant with Charlie—

“Poe, I’m cumming—oh,” your legs gave out as you came, the rush of wetness spilling over his lap and Poe came hard, grunting before he slammed your hips down and held you still. You had fallen against Poe, your head in the crook of his neck as you convulsed around him and he filled you deeply, pulsing in your tight heat. His body melted into yours and for just one moment it was like you and he were one, every breath of air from his lungs going into yours until he collapsed back against the headboard.

You stayed curled into his chest, gasping for air. Poe held you, even as he began to soften within, and stroked your hair gently. The breeze off the ocean cooled your sweat-coated skin, but since Charlie was with Rey and Finn, he figured he could coax you into the large ensuite bath for a long, relaxing shower.

“I love you, Poe,” You whispered, your head turning slightly so that you were looking up at him, your head still resting against his shoulder. “I didn’t know life could be like this.”

Poe met your gaze and smiled softly at you, brushing his hand across your face, “Sweet girl, I’m going to grow old with you.” He murmured, pulling you in for another kiss, languid and slow before he would start another day in paradise with his little family.

—

When life had finally settled on Yavin-4 for you and Poe—the house finished, Kes all moved in and Charlie adjusted to the new planet, your husband began to have nightmares.

At first, he never said anything to you about them. He acted as if they didn’t happen, but you were a light sleeper because of Charlie, so you always woke up. He didn’t speak, but he would toss around, whimper, his eyes moving rapidly beneath the lids. You knew he saw Temmin die, other friends too—and Leia, she hadn’t made it either. So many had been lost, and he told you how close it had been, how he almost hadn’t made it himself. He’d been through so much after you had gone to Sorgan, you weren’t surprised he had trouble easing into a life where the biggest decisions were about dinner or who was going to get up in the middle of the night to soothe the baby.

You let it happen for a week, hoping that once he settled in more and realized this was life now, they would fade. But you think his pretending they didn’t exist only made it worse, so eventually, you brought it up—and he’d been upset that he had been keeping you up at night. The war was won; but it didn’t take away any of the pain of losses suffered, the hardships he’d had to endure, and yet he’d offered to sleep in the guest room for a while, so you could get some sleep.

You had dismissed that idea immediately and told Poe that if he couldn’t get a good night’s rest then you didn’t need to either. And that was how it ended up that most nights, he’d wake up in a cold sweat and you would roll over and pull him in your arms and he would talk to you.

Poe would tell you everything that happened.

As the nights wore on, the stories became shorter, funnier, some just small memories from passing moments. But the nightmares became less intense, and within three months, they had stopped altogether. And you knew the details of every single moment of his life while you had been on Sorgan, every fight and sacrifice and close call. His mistakes, his triumphs, his fear—and the love he felt for Finn and Rey, for their friendship and loyalty.

It only managed to bring you closer to Poe, who by day showed only a happy, brave face for Charlie, becoming vulnerable in the dark of night, bare in your arms, whispering his story. The thing was, the amount of honesty meant that it was tough to keep things from one another—you could always read each other; now you could have silent conversations from across a room.

You loved how well you and Poe understood each other, but it was really damn inconvenient right now.

It had been a few months since Poe had told you he wanted another baby. It hadn’t come as a shock to you; you’d been thinking the same, wondering when it would feel like the right time, and then he had started acting strange and you managed to get him to confess, suspecting he was picturing another baby in the mix. Poe was true to his promise of having you all the time—every spare moment he could get, he was on you.

Charlie had been a beautiful surprise. This time, you could have fun with the process, which ended up including some fun dates. He’d fucked you behind the cantina in town during a rare night out for drinks. He brought you on beach picnics and you’d ride him on the sandy shore. You’d excuse yourself to go to the fresher and he’d appear out of nowhere and bend you over the counter, fuck you deep and quick before filling you, smacking your ass before he’d slip back out of the room with his cocky smirk.

It was very sexy. You kept letting it happen even though for a while now it wasn’t exactly necessary. You were twelve weeks along, and so far you’d managed to keep it a secret from Poe. You wanted to surprise him, trusting your curves to hide any physical evidence of the pregnancy. Because he was such a good dad, you were able to sneak away when he was preoccupied with Charlie to hurl or splash cool water on your face to quell a hot flash. You were lucky not to suffer too much from morning sickness, though you know you’d pay for that in the final trimester—when you were pregnant with Charlie, you felt like an oversized womp rat for weeks, barely able to stand, wobbling around, sweating constantly.

Today was special and so you’d saved the news to share. It was Poe’s birthday, something he wasn’t ever big on celebrating making it the perfect occasion to share the surprise. You were sat at the large outdoor table with Poe, Kes and Charlie, feet bare on the warm sand, the sky slowly turning indigo as the sun set below the horizon. Dinner was finished, and Charlie was starting to get sleepy, though she was in the toddler stage where fighting off sleep like it was a wild loth cat was the only way to survive.

“Well, sweetheart, thank you for a perfect birthday dinner,” Poe reached his hand across the table to take yours, squeezing slightly as he gazed at you and Charlie, who was in your lap playing with your hair. “Low key, no presents, just good food and family.”

Kes nodded next to his son, clapping Poe on the back, “Good food and family is what life is all about, that was what your mother believed.”

When Poe turned to his dad to reply, you glanced down at Charlie and grinned, lowering your voice, “Bug, can you do something for mummy please?”

Your clever girl smiled, her eyes lighting up immediately at the idea of helping her mother—she was a sweet kid, “Yep yep yep!” She chirped, her little fists coming up to clap against either side of your face gently.

You leaned your head next to hers and pitched your voice to a whisper, giving her the simple instructions. You repeated yourself to make sure she understood and watched as she began to nod aggressively, her brows pinching together in serious focus. You’re not sure she fully grasped what she was saying, which made it funnier when she climbed off your lap and ambled around the table to tug on Poe’s arm.

Poe glanced around at her, his smile breaking wide, “Hi bug, want some cuddle time with daddy?” He picked her up and settled her on his lap as you watched, trying to hold back your smirk. Kes was watching with a faraway, content expression—you think he had an idea of what was coming.

“No daddy,” Charlie replied, her face still scrunched up and serious, “You listen! Listen.” She repeated, dragging the word out as she glared up at Poe, who chuckled, his eyes seeking yours.

He gave you a questioning look and you shrugged innocently. Charlie reached for Poe’s face, patting his jaw so that he would focus on her, “Okay, Bug, what is it?”

“I am a big sitter.”

Poe arched a brow down at her while you clapped a hand over your mouth to hide your giggle, “A big sitter, Bug?”

Charlie bounced up and down excitedly, “Daddy, big sitter—I’mma big sitter!”

Still frowning, Poe glanced up at you again, this time his expression entirely mystified, “Do you understand her?” His voice was slightly strained with the effort of holding back a laugh at her silliness.

You nodded, grinning broadly across at him before looking at Charlie, “Bug, remember how mummy said the word? Sister—“

Charlie’s eyes widened in understanding, “Sister! Daddy, I’m a big SISTER!” She yelled the last word in triumph, her lips forming the word as Poe brushed some of her hair back from her face fondly. You watched as he froze, his mouth opening in surprise, and then slowly looked back at you.

You gave yourself away because a few tears had slipped out watching the exchange, so when Poe’s eyes met yours understanding flashed across his expression. Kes was the first to speak, his hands clapping together in glee, “That’s wonderful news, Bug! A big sister? Wow!” He swooped out of his seat, plucking Charlie from Poe’s arms, “I think you are nearly ready for bed, and mummy and daddy need some grown-up time—say goodnight!”

“NIGHT!” Charlie yelled, waving frantically while grinning up at Kes. He winked at you before turning to make his way up the beach and into the house, leaving you alone with your stunned husband, who was sitting perfectly still.

“You still with me, flyboy?” You took a sip of water, watching as he stood up from the table, a hand swiping through his curls. He was by your side in a flash, dropping to his knees next to your seat and turning you to face him.

“Sweetheart,” He breathed, his eyes shining with tears, “Are you—really, you’re pregnant?”

You cupped Poe’s face, his stubble tickling your hands, “Happy birthday, Poe. I know you said no gifts—“

Poe cut you off, raising slightly on his hunches to press his lips to yours. When he pulled back, his cheeks were wet, “How far along?” His eyes fell down your body, gazing questioningly, lovingly, at your stomach.

“Twelve weeks.”

“Wow,” He murmured, dropping his hands to run over the curves of your torso, “Sweet girl, this is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.” His eyes were soft, the honey of them still visible in the light from the candles on your dinner table.

You tilted your head, “Even better than the year Charlie snuck you that vat of Corellian wine?”

Poe barked out a laugh at the memory, “Shit, he and I were drunk for a week straight,” He leaned into you, kissing gently along your jaw as you giggled, “That comes in a close second to this, I think.”

Still laughing, you wrapped your arms fully around Poe and kissed him again. He tugged you off your chair and into his lap, sitting back onto the sand as the inky blue sky shined above with stars and the ocean played its soft melody.

“I love you, Poe.” You whispered, sighing in blissful content.

He held you in his arms and kissed you like it was the first time again, full of passion and emotion. You rolled your hips to indicate you were happy to stay out on the beach for a little while, a soft moan on your lips.

Poe chuckled warm and low, his hands falling to the waist of his pants. “Oh, sweet girl, I love you too.”

A/N: *Sobbing* Thank you so much for reading this series, I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it. Thank you for the reblogs and kind comments, you guys are the best!

Taglist

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[hsmtmts-justsomewriting]

Not to be your stereotypical second semester senior but EJ Caswell is a bit too busy to be thinking about sports metaphors...

(Alternative title- overcommitted..sounds like a Caswell)

Senior year was insanely busy. Being so overwhelmed EJ had been slowing down over the last couple weeks, but he was brushing it off just fine.

EJ has arrived late that day, which was unusual in itself, as he prides himself on being on time. Holding a half eaten packet of Oreos he shuffled into the rehearsal room slumping on the bleachers away from his chattering cast mates.

“EJ honey great you could join us, you’d think a senior couldn’t get lost in the halls!” Miss Jenn giggled at her own joke as the cast were suddenly alerted to the older boys presence. EJ absentmindedly nodded and grabbed out his script.

“Yeah...sorry..um...where are we at?”

“Page 63” “Cool... thanks”

Flipping to that part in the script, he looks up to take in the scene. Kourtney, Gina, Seb and Carlos are clearly half way through blocking a castle scene- Carlos complaining his arms are tired from ‘staying in character’, Kourtney and Seb working out where they are going to come in from and how to negotiate Sebs big box costume (although it’s proving very difficult considering the rehearsal room is about a quarter of the size of the stage) and Gina is animatedly discussing the scene choices with Miss Jenn.

Within an instant, EJ is startled from the scene as Natalie is beside him rambling something about ‘needing a fill in for cogworth’ ‘went home sick’. Sauntering up with his script, EJ’s vision goes spotted as he gets up from the bleachers. But as soon as it comes it’s gone.

He just needs to get through this rehearsal, then he can; go home, finish his debate speech, go over the plays for Friday’s waterpolo match, study for tomorrow’s maths assessment, start his exam notes, memorise his lines, work on his college applications, and maybe even get some sleep.

Joining the cast he tries to hide in the back corner. Following the basic blocking directions seemed harder than usual, his head had began to pound and fatigue hit him like a wave.

However he continued on, sluggish but present helping them to finish blocking the scene.

Walking back to his place on the bleachers EJ trips over his own feet. Catching himself before a big splat on the floor he is able to avoid the attention of his cast mates. Well mostly.

“EJ are you ok?”

EJ didn’t need to look up to know that his cousin had definitely seen his little trip.

“Yep fine”

“Ok try again but this time make it the truth”

Ashlyn was caring but firm, she definitely wasn’t going to brush it off. EJ could feel his facade fading under her concerned gaze. His voice drops low.

“I-i just don’t know... Ash, I’m trying-“

“ON TO THE NEXT SCENE Gaston and Le Fou, I need you boys to start down stage right”

EJ got up slowly, subtly steadying himself against a chair not to lose balance.

“Nevermind it’ll be fine”

EJ walks off, with that any vulnerablity on face vanishing, leaving Ashlyn’s stomach to churn in a pool of worry.

Being an after school rehearsal, most of the cast heads off after they start rehearsing the next scene as it only has Gaston and Le Fou. Leaving the rehearsal room with just Miss Jenn, Big Red, EJ, Ashlyn and Gina (the latter two who were waiting on the senior for a ride home).

EJ and Big Red slowly work through the dialogue, the scene is about as smooth as a clunky old railway track. After running it twice EJ feels like his words are melding into one. But pushing through, based off his poor entrenched habits, EJ made it through another run through of the scene.

“Um can we take a five?”

Miss Jenn looks at the senior perplexed, he’s never asked for a five. Ever.

“EJ honey is everything ok?”

“Hm, yeah just need a sec”

EJ’s exhausation catches up with him, the light seems to highlight the bags under his eyes. He drops onto the bleachers, resting his head in his hands he closes his eyes for a second.

“Miss Jenn, EJ doesn’t look so good maybe you guys should wrap this up for today-”

“Ash I’m-“

“No. You look exhausted! You barely have the energy to stand up for 10 minutes”

Ashlyn moves to grab him his drink bottle but runs into his iced coffee and Oreo packet first. She flinches. Her cousin never drinks coffee unless he purely needs the caffeine.

EJ freezes she moment he realises she’s seen it.

“When was the last time you slept?!”

All eyes are on him.

“James” His head snapped up. But he couldn’t look his cousin in the eye. Because then she’d see his eyes are glassy with unshed tears. His overwhelmed thoughts race through his mind.

“Ok I think we’ll pick this up next rehearsal, please be safe getting home and get some rest”

The four students start to pack up their bags, Ashlyn asking her boyfriend to give them all a lift. Turning to her cousin, helps him finish packing his stuff.

“You can stay in the guest room, we’re having lasagna tonight”

EJ too tired to protest, walks past his Jeep in the parking lot to get in a smaller orange bug car. He’ll have to come back for it tomorrow because there’s no way he could drive safely in his tired state.

The car ride home was eerily quiet, Ashlyn day in the passenger seat next to Big Red. He drove to Ashlyn’s house like a routine he knew by heart. Gina keep flicking worried glances at EJ but the senior didn’t even notice, having closed his eyes and resting against the window the moment he entered the car.

“Thanks for the ride Biggie”

Gina gentley nudged EJ and his eyes were open in an instant.

“Thanks Red” He mumbled as he got out of the car.

“No worries, take care guys”

As the orange car was disappearing into the distance, Ashlyn unlocked the front door. Gina and EJ follow her into the house.

“James lets go the living room”

EJ follows Ashlyn to the couch, and Gina continues past to grab a drink of water from the kitchen.

“What’s going on?”

Ashlyn puts a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes it, grounding him and reminding him that she’s here to listen. He looks at the faded colourful rug and his words begin to vomit out softly.

“I’m just trying to get it all done ...and um.. for weeks I just never seem to have enough time, and I still have to do my study notes and finish my assessment and college apps tonight... but I’m just so tired...”

His voice cracks and the wall behind his eyes begin to break.

“I have to stay up so late, to get everything I have to all done...and then polo practice at the crack of dawn... i don’t know.. I just can’t... let anyone down..”

Ashlyn pulls EJ in tightly. His body wracked with sobs, her heart breaks as she hasn’t seen him like this in a long time. Gina initially freezes entering the room just as the senior had begun to cry but soon shifts over beside them engulfing them both in a hug.

Grabbing some tissues and a sip of water he’s able to stop his crying but his tense shoulders give away his overwhelmed mind.

“it will be ok, we’ll work this out. Everyone else will understand if everything is not done right now. You’ve got to take better care of yourself, what matters is if you are ok”

Gina nods in agreeance with Ashlyn as she comforts EJ.

“But for now you need to take a break, just have a quick nap before dinner in the guest room-“

“But I have to-“

“No James you need a rest, all this stuff can come later”

He sluggishly gets up heading for the guest room mumbling a “thanks Ash” as he retreats to his long awaited rest.

After he closes the door, Ashlyn lets out the breath she had been holding. She was convinced they would have to put up more of a fight to get him to go to sleep, but the fact that they didn’t was almost more concerning.

“He did seem a little bit off earlier in the week but yeah I had no idea that this was under the surface”

Gina says to break the silence created by her and Ashlyn’s shocked worry.

“Yeah he’s always been pretty good at bottling this stuff up, definitely a Caswell skill”

Ashlyn starts to pick up the tissues heading to the bin in the kitchen. Both the girls enter the kitchen to finish heating up the leftover lasagna they made yesterday.

While cooking the veggies the girls trade stories of earlier in the day and discuss the spotting of Miss Jenn and Mr Mazzarra at Sliced on Valentine’s. Just as they’re plating up, EJ reappears. He looks somewhat disheveled, wearing sweats and his usually spiked hair is messy like a 2012 Bieber hairstyle. His contacts are long gone being traded for his wide framed glasses.

“Feeling any better?”

Bringing the plates to the table they all sit in their usual seats.

“Yeah a little...thanks guys this looks amazing”

As if on cue his stomach grumbles with excitement and they dig into the food. The three teens continue to tell stories of their day. Although exhausted, a goofy smile makes its way onto EJ’s face while telling the girls about his classmate in English that tried justify his argument quoting spark notes, instead of the actual book.

Once they’re finished, EJ stacks and clears away the plates. Grabbing her laptop, Ashlyn creates a new copy of one of her old timetables modified with all EJ’s stuff. After cleaning the dishes, EJ plops down beside her and together they start to work out.

Half an hour and a warm hot chocolate later, they manage to finish a schedule that looks like it fit a bit of time for everything while keeping a heathy amount of rest time.

“Thank you so much Ash... I really appreciate it”

Ashlyn smiles back at her cousin.

“Just promise me you’ll take care of yourself, or at least you’ll let me know if you need help”

EJ engulfs her in a hug.

“Yeah I will, thanks”

As they both move to join Gina in the lounge room, EJ grabs his laptop to start completing his speech. Flopping down onto the couch, the tv is turned onto a Brooklyn Nine Nine halloween heist episode.

Taking EJs laptop at 9:30, the older boy fell asleep within an instant. Keeping to his promise, he followed the schedule he made with Ashlyn (most of the time at least) and finally learnt how to ask for help when he realised he couldn’t do it alone. And when he asked for help, Ashlyn and Gina were always there with an extra mug of hot chocolate.

Thanks for reading! I’m open to write prompts or suggestions

(...Also if anyone can think of any better names for this please comment because all my thoughts were low key trash😂)

[smarchit]

Poetry for an Heiress, Chapter 8

Word Count: 4k

Summary: When a duchess and her children are abandoned far from home, they must rely on the kindness of one stranger to guide them home.

Warnings: Slight allusions to smut, mild violence (no blood/gore)

The next morning, you awoke long after the sun began to stream through the slatted shutters of the inn. You felt warm and safe and happier than you'd felt in months. You hadn't felt so relaxed and refreshed in years, the more you thought about it. It was perfect. You stretched your legs beneath the sheets and groaned in pleasure at the feeling.

"Now there is one of the most angelic sounds I've ever heard," Ezra murmured beside you. You cracked open one eye to look at him. He was laying on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching you with a serene expression.  The thin gray sheet covered him below the waist and you rolled over to look at him properly. 

You ran a hand through his disheveled hair and cupped his cheek in your palm. "Good morning, Ez," you mumbled sleepily. You shifted closer to him under the sheets and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

"Sleep well, Princess?" he asked, nudging his nose against yours. 

"I haven't slept that well in so long," you admitted with a smile. You drew up the blanket over your chest and nuzzled against his arm. 

"Nor have I," he said. "I am usually plagued by vivid nightmares and have to relive horrors no man should bear witness to in his lifetime. It's why I tear through novels like they are simple children's stories. Better to keep the mind occupied with fantasy than to face reality."

You frowned and traced his lips and the contour of his sharp nose with your fingers. "You of all people should know it does not do well to bury your head in the sand. It can be dangerous."

"If I fell asleep to your touch every night and awoke to this every morning," Ezra hummed, "I doubt I would ever have trouble sleeping again."

"Perhaps only for one reason," you replied with a grin as you leaned up to kiss him.

Just as Ezra leaned down to meet your lips with a smirk, there was an excited pounding at the door. The two of you broke away almost instantly.

"Mama!" Marie cried from the other side of the door. "Mama, wake up!"

Ezra looked over his shoulder and chuckled before dropping his head to your breast and placing a single kiss there. "Perfect timing," he groaned as he slid out of bed. He grabbed his pants and yanked them on before he tossed you his sweater from the day before.

"As always," you chuckled. You pulled on the sweater and tidied your hair as best you could. 

Marie's incessant knocking continued until Ezra pulled open the door. 

"Mama!" Marie squealed as she clambered up onto the bed. "Mama! We're going back to see grandmother, aren't we?" She squished your face between her hands and pressed her nose to yours.

With a laugh, you gently pried her hands from your face and nodded. "Yes, my little bug. We are going to see her today."

"And we can introduce her to Mr. Ezra, can't we?" Marie snuggled against you and turned in your lap to look at Ezra as he pulled on a threadbare t-shirt. 

"That's only if Mr. Ezra wants to," you reminded her gently. "And if he has the time. He is more than welcome, though."

Ezra chuckled and nodded. "We shall see if my busy schedule allows for it, little bird. For now though, what would you and your brothers say to some breakfast?"

Marie gasped and nodded as she clapped her hands excitedly. "Breakfast! Yes, please!"

"Go wake your lazy bones brothers up," he said, holding the door open for her. "Dressed and clean, the lot of you!"

You drew your legs up beneath the blankets as Ezra shut the door behind her. Ezra's tone was very paternal towards your children and you couldn't help but smile at the feeling that stirred inside you.

"You're so good with them," you said softly when he looked at you with a puzzled expression. "The children simply adore you. That's plain enough for anyone to see."

He smiled and picked a dress out of the backpack for you. "I would have to be a fool to not see it, Princess. Here, this dress is one of my favorites, I'd like to see it on you one last time."

You bit your lip and brushed your hand against his when he handed it to you. "Ez, I---"

"A short, sweet goodbye," he said, bringing your hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss there before letting it fall to your lap. "It will be best for all of us."

You brushed the tears away and looked down at the dress he had handed you. It was the dress you wore the first full day on the little farm. Soft, cream colored cotton with a pale pink floral pattern. It barely brushed against your calves and the lace trim at the bottom hem had become tattered and tickled the back of your legs when you walked.

Ezra smiled sadly and watched you for a moment from the washroom door before he shut it behind him. 

You waited until you heard the water running before you climbed out of bed to change. Something caught your attention in the pocket after you smoothed down the front and you reached in and pulled out a flat gray stone. The surface was smooth and cool under your fingers. It was from the day you'd all gotten up before dawn to hike to a nearby lake. Ezra had taught the children how to skip stones across the surface of the water. You sat on the edge of the bed and held it in your palms until it grew warm to the touch, trying to hold onto the memory of that day.

The bedroom door opened with a bang and the children entered, all asking a million questions at the same time. Henry climbed into your lap as you slid the stone back into your pocket. He yawned widely and then grinned at you.

"Mama, guess what!" he asked, bouncing on your legs. Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "I lost another tooth!"

"Oh, darling, that's wonderful!" you exclaimed. "How many have you lost so far? Four?"

"Three," Aiden chirped from beside you. "I lost four."

"Ah, yes," you chuckled, squeezing Henry tightly. "Now I remember that. Well, give it here, I will make sure I hold on tight to it."

Henry passed over the tooth and flashed you his gapped-tooth smile. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and gently nudged him off your lap.

You began to tidy up the hotel room, collecting both yours and Ezra's scattered clothing from the night before. It didn't take long until everything was sorted and repacked. By the time you'd finished, Ezra had rejoined you, his hair still damp from the washer. 

The children had stopped jumping on the bed so they could sit with him and listen to the story he was telling them. Marie sat, wide-eyed and captivated as he described the princess who traversed the entire galaxy, searching for her lost love. It was a story Ezra had been telling them nightly for the past week or so. He looked up at you and winked when he told the children of the princess' love confession in order to save her lover from the clutches of an evil witch.

"No matter where you go or what you do," he said softly. "There will be nothing in this galaxy or any other that will keep me from you. Through every black hole and supernova, I will always be there."

"Count on it!" the children erupted into giggles as they parroted what was apparently the fictional princess' catchphrase. 

You smiled as Ezra hugged each of the children separately. Little Marie clung to his neck and refused to let him go.

"Come on," he gently urged the children. "Let's go get something good to eat and then I can take you home. What do you say?"

The children all nodded sadly and stood up. "Yes, Mr. Ezra."

"Now," he hummed, "Why those long faces? You're gonna be home with your grandmother soon. And you'll forget all about me soon enough."

Marie snuggled in closer and shook her head. "I don't ever want to forget about you, Mr. Ezra! I promise I won't."

"Oh, little bird," he soothed. "It'll be alright, don't you worry."

You sighed softly and picked up the knapsack off the bed. Henry held tight to his brother's hand and stood beside the door as you got ready to leave. Neither of them would look at you or at Ezra and it broke your heart.

A few hours later, after a breakfast that you intentionally let go on much longer than necessary, you finally approached the palace gates where until recently, you had never left their safety for longer than a few weeks. It was nice to be back, you figured, you just wished Ezra would be staying as well. Perhaps you could convince him to stay for at least one night. His words about a short goodbye echoed in your head. Neither of you had made it particularly easy and only seemed to prolong your inevitable goodbyes with every passing minute.

You called to get the children's attention as you stood outside the gates. As you tried to make them look as presentable as possible, Ezra hung around, watching you with a fond expression.

Ezra cleared his throat in an attempt to distract himself from the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. He knew he would regret leaving for the rest of his days. But you deserved better than a shabby little rundown farm and a one armed ex-aurelac harvester. He felt like he was unworthy of your love, hell, unworthy of your very presence. He was too rough, too violent. His hands were too bloody from his past to hold you at night.

"Ezra, will you please come inside?" you asked, reaching over to touch his arm. "My mother, she will want to thank you properly. And you could stay for a day or two to gather your supplies. Perhaps they will give you payment as a reward for returning us home." You reached out with your other hand to press the button to let yourself through the gates.

Ezra shook his head and offered a small smile. "What I want isn't something that money can buy, Princess. I am just happy to know that you are safe now. Besides, a palace seems a slight bit too regal for my less than refined appearance. I worry I would repulse even the poor staff with my presence."

You wanted to protest his denial, wanted to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to stay with you and the children, not just for the night, but forever more. You nearly burst into tears when you looked over as the front door swung open. The fence opened just wide enough for you two usher the children through.

Edgar came walking towards you, followed quickly by three palace guards. To your surprise, he actually looked less enthused than he normally did. He wore a deep scowl on his face and glared at Ezra as he got closer.

"I should go, Princess," Ezra said, softly. He brushed his fingers against your hand as he pressed the backpack into your arms. "Before they think me a vagrant and toss me in your dungeon. Until our paths cross again."

He helped you to squeeze through the gate before he pressed a soft kiss to your hand. "Au revoir, your highness."

You wanted to call after him as he walked away, back towards the town center. 

He would be gone in the morning light, back to Muir, back to the farm. And you might never see him again.

Beside you, the children were sobbing and begging him to come back. Marie tried to run after him, but Aiden held her close, shushing her quietly.

"Duchess, welcome home!" Edgar exclaimed as the gate swung open. The three guards quickly circled you and the children and you glanced over one of their shoulders as Ezra disappeared around the corner. 

It wasn't supposed to end like this...

"Oh, we've been so worried!" Edgar continued with a smirk, tilting your chin up with his finger. Repulsed by his sudden forwardness, you jerked away from his touch. You gasped as the larger of the three guards shoved you. The children jumped in surprise at the action. "You weren't supposed to come back, you know. You were supposed to die out there, not cavort with the locals!"

"I--- what?" you asked, trying to back away. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as the guards moved in closer. Your grip on twins' wrists tightened slightly and Henry whimpered and tried to squirm away. You tried to calm him down as best you could.

"Take them away," Edgar said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. His expression turned dark and he grinned as he grabbed your chin so he could look you in the eye. "You need to be well rested. The freighter for the Green leaves tomorrow, Duchess."

"No!" you shrieked, kicking your legs wildly as the biggest guard picked you up with ease. He struck you across the face when you cried out Ezra's name. As he slung you with ease over his shoulder, you couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if only Ezra had stuck around for a bit... if only you'd told him how you felt instead of just letting him leave. "No! You will unhand me at once!"

"Mama!" Aiden cried, trying to pull the guard off of you. "Let her go! Henry!"

Two of the guards went after the twins, easily capturing them when they tried to bolt. They clapped their hands over the boys' mouths to muffle their screams for help.

Edgar went after Marie, but she quickly ducked out of his reach and doubled back to kick him in the shin. He roughly grabbed her by the arm and yanked her towards him. She let out an ear piercing scream and thrashed about in his arms.

"Mama!" she shrieked, using all of her strength to twist her arm free. "He's hurting me!"

"Stop!" you begged as the guard carried you towards the back garden of the palace. It was where your adventure began, you supposed it was only fitting it was to end there too.

The guard unceremoniously tossed you into the little garden shed. You stumbled backwards into the wall and slammed your head off of a low shelf. The last thing you saw was the other guards shoving your children into the tiny shed with you.

"Mama!" Marie wailed as darkness overtook you. 

Ezra didn't want to leave. He knew that you didn't want him to leave. He knew the children didn't want him to leave. But he also knew that your family would never approve of him should he choose to stay. 

So he did the only thing that he could do. The only thing that he'd ever done when faced with a difficult challenge. He left. Like a coward. It frustrated him to no end. He hated himself for just leaving when divine Kevva above was giving him every fucking opportunity to stay.

He knew something was wrong when the butler marched out of the house with three guards in tow. Based on the way he'd heard you talk about this place, it didn't exactly seem like the welcome wagon that he expected. But you didn't seem too concerned. There was no fear in your eyes...

"Au revoir, your highness," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. He only could hope that what he wanted to say so badly was evident in his kiss.

As he walked away, he did his best to ignore the children crying out after him. It pained him to do that to the poor kids, especially given how much they'd gone through, but he was so sure he was doing the right thing.

Immediately after he rounded the corner of the fence, he heard the childrens' sharp cries for help. Fear and alarm sound different than grief, he'd learned in his many years. You were in danger. The children were in danger.

Ezra took off running in the direction he'd come from, back towards the children, back to you. He crept along the fence, following the voices of the guards, and, he could only pray, you were among them. He wasn't fast enough to reach you, though he was able to get close enough to see the guard drag you into a stone tool shed through a slat in the fencing. 

The alarmed cries of the children were almost completely muffled when the butler slammed the door of the shed.

"No one goes into that shed," the butler growled. Ezra vaguely remembered you'd called him Edgar and expressed a dislike for him, the reason for which you couldn't quite pin down.

The guards murmured in compliance as Edgar made his way back towards the house. 

All Ezra needed to do was lure three highly-trained royal guards away from the shed so he could rescue you and the children. Easy. Right?

Ezra swore under his breath as he weighed his options. The only thing he could think of right now, aside from his absolute terror for you and the children, was the irony of the situation. The butler did it.

He could hear the children pounding on the door, pleading with the guards to let them out.

"Please!" one of the boys begged, his voice barely audible to Ezra. "Our mother hit her head! She won't wake up!"

"Shut up," one of the guards ordered, slamming his fist on the door. "No one in and no one out, your highness!"

Ezra couldn't help but roll his eyes. They were part of a plot to abduct the royal family and yet they couldn't stop with the formalities. 

He looked around, trying to find some way he could get inside the fence. It wouldn't be easy. They were wealthy and could easily afford to have a study fence to keep riffraff like him out of their garden. 

"I wish Mr. Ezra was here," Marie's sweet voice came from inside the shed. She sounded close to tears. 

"Aw, shut up, Marie," came the other twin. "Do you think he's gonna come get us? He left..."

Ezra shook his head. He couldn't let this happen to the children. Couldn't let them be shipped off to the inhospitable hell that was the Green. He wouldn't let it happen, no matter what. They were children.

He stood up and scoured the outside wall of the fence. It was about eight feet high, solid concrete posts, interspersed with iron beams. It reminded Ezra of a prison, not a home for children. If he stayed behind the concrete barriers, the guards would not see him. 

He peered around the edge of the barrier, trying to see the tiny shed where the children and the Duchess were being kept.

Suddenly, he felt the cool tip of a thrower pressed against the back of his head. He slowly held up his hand and straightened his back.

"The fuck do you think you're doing back here?" asked a harsh voice, warped and deepened by a vocoder. "This is private property."

"Pardon the intrusion," Ezra said, keeping his voice even. He closed his eyes and didn't turn around to face the man who had him cornered. "It sounded like someone was in distress. I only came to investigate. I must have been incorrect."

"Get up," the voice barked. Once Ezra was on his feet, the thrower was pressed against his lower back. "Walk. Slow now, no funny shit."

"I don’t believe I am in any position to try anything, regardless of whether or not I want to."

"Shut up," the voice growled. "Walk."

"Do I have a choice?" Ezra asked, smirking to himself even as the guard shoved him forward. He tripped and fell onto his knees with a grunt. 

"Let's go," the man snarled, yanking Ezra back to his feet by his jacket collar. He pushed and shoved Ezra towards an access door in the fence further from the shed. Once inside, the guard gave him another rough shove towards the other guards.

Ezra barely caught himself from face planting into the cobblestone path of the garden with his arm. He hissed in pain and rolled onto his side.

"Caught this one snooping around," he said. "Claimed he heard a noise."

"Saw him hanging around when the Duchess rang the bell," another guard said as he turned Ezra's head with the toe of his boot.

"Maybe we can tell her majesty this one was holding her granddaughter for ransom," another sneered. He pressed his boot against Ezra's arm with enough force to cause Ezra to choke back a curse.

"There will be none of that!" Edgar hissed as he scurried back to the huddled group. "We need to act quickly. They heard the children's shouts. We must move them at once, before they suspect me further."

Ezra wheezed a laugh and shook his head as one of the guards hauled him to his knees. "You're going through a whole lot of effort just for some money."

Edgar scowled and crouched down beside him. He tangled his fist in Ezra's hair and jerked his head upright, causing him to grit his teeth and grunt in pain.

"I'm not doing it for the money, you mangy, filthy mongrel," Edgar snarled, his face dangerously close to Ezra's. "No, no. The old bat is going to leave me nothing when she finally dies. Nothing! And if her bitch of a daughter and her intolerable little brats are still in the picture, I'm to be cast out! But if there's no one left, all that power is mine."

"And you think if no one's left, it somehow magically goes to you?" Ezra wheezed through the pain in his arm. "That is some of the most absolutely dimwitted--"

Edgar scowled and delivered a quick punch to Ezra's stomach. He smirked when the other man went limp in the arms of his captors for a moment.

"Now, do be a good lad and keep quiet," Edgar urged. "I just may let you accompany the children and the Duchess on the charter to the Green if you behave."

"No chance, Eddie," he chuckled breathlessly. "I never have been one for behaving, see? Too much paperwork."

"Very well," Edgar frowned and let Ezra fall back into the arms of the guard holding him. He jerked his head in the direction of the tiny tool shed. "Just you then. Kill them."

"No!" Ezra cried desperately as the guards readied their throwers. The low hum of charging weapons filled the brief silence that followed. His voice echoed off the palace walls and Edgar turned to him with a smile. "Please. Do not kill them." Ezra bared his teeth at the butler. "Let them go! Now! I worked on the Green before. I can do it again! I will take their place on the Green. Not them, please. Please--"

"That's enough!" a voice rang out, crisp and clear through the tension of the garden. "What in Kevva's name is going on out here?!”

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

Aight it’s up! I’m gonna go reward myself with leftover Taco Bell and wine.

TAGLIST: 

@the-feckless-wonder @gallowsjoker @phoenixhalliwell @waatermelon-sugaar @huliabitch @miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @auandromedus

[evaxsombra]

Silent Tears

Referencing 

Kadeu, Spade/Club Border

04 March 2021, Just Before Dawn

The silence was deafening and weighted. It pressed against Eva even as she walked along the border that marked Spade from Club. In one hand her cane swept across the ground—Eva half-hoping it might tap against a pair of boots followed by a “Hey there, Princess!” But none came. The other hand held a small basket, still warm with freshly baked goodies she’d made only an hour prior in Prospero’s kitchen. A bottle of mead poked out from beneath the cover. Even the pastries didn’t make the usual sounds of crust and crumble that were so familiar. It was as if the food knew where it was going and who it was for and dared not voice how it would simply spoil or be stolen by a hungry passerby.

The shuffling of guards’ feet reached her ears and Eva knew she was close. She passed them, returned their greeting as she moved along and then through the passage that led to Club. She didn’t go very far. She counted the paces until it was approximately the same distance that Anton would have usually met her within Spades borders. Her cane hit a wall—the side of a house maybe? She settled her back against it and slid down until she was seated. Carefully, she set the cover on the ground, followed by the variety of breads and, finally, two cups filled with mead. She sat the bottle beside her and let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Then she smiled.

“Hey TonTon. Betcha didn’t expect me to come to ya this time, huh?” Silence. “Well, I figured I could make an exception this time. Seeing how you can’t meet me halfway anymore, I gotta pick up the slack.” Eva reached for one of the breads, held it gently between her hands. “Brought you more of those breads from Yeon Nen. Some alcohol too. Haven’t been able to stop baking since…well, um…since I heard.”

She thought back to the day after Airang. How she’d been exhausted after a wild night of whatever weird spell had come over her. All she’d wanted to do was sleep, but the moment she’d entered Spade, Lilith had been waiting, insisting that Eva come home to the Leon estate with. She’d even grabbed Chupa from her barracks. At first, Eva had been too tired to question it, but the alarm bells had been ringing. Lilith never touched Chupa—she didn’t much like scaly creatures. And she sure as hell never met Eva anywhere but at the Leon home.

And then Lilith had sat her down, made sure she had a good hearty meal. Let Eva rant and rave about the previous night and the early morning shenanigans. But Eva could hear how forced the helper’s laugh was, could smell the worry and sadness coating her skin. So she’d asked, “What’s wrong, Lilith? You seem down. Nothing happened to Prospero, right?”

“The master is alright, Miss Eva.” The pause. The first of many heavy silences. “Miss Eva…you were well acquainted with that Club boy, Anton, yes?” Eva nodded and grinned, knowing how Lilith had never been too fond of the Strongarm. The Shifter was sure she’d warm up with enough time…a lot of time.

“What’s he do this time? If it’s his handwriting I swear he told me he’s been practicing.” A complete lie.

“Miss, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

And suddenly their time went bankrupt.

Eva gripped the bread tighter in her grasp until it caved in on itself, until her fingers met through the still-warm dough. “We both know I can’t cook to save my life. Or yours.” The wind didn’t so much as whisper. “If they had told me you died ‘cause my bread poisoned you, I woulda believed it. This stuff,” she poked at a pastry, “should be labelled an assassin’s weapon. Woulda fit you since, ya know, you were apparently an assassin and all.”

That hadn’t been easy to hear. To listen to Lilith’s voice as she read the Deck. As the Deck aired all of Anton’s dirty laundry for the world as if it was their right. Threw harsh words and unverified rumors knowing full well the man of the hour couldn’t defend himself. Eva had sat frozen, feeling her heart break even as she tried hard so hard to process the fact that her best friend was gone.

“You…you coulda told me, TonTon,” she murmured not unkindly. “I get why you didn’t. Really, I do. I never told ya, but I…I did some bad stuff too. But I think you woulda forgave me for it. I was just too ashamed to say anything. Even now I can’t really talk about it….S’not my place to forgive you, but I just wanna let you know that all that stuff doesn’t change how grateful I am to have had you in my life. It doesn’t change how much I love you, ya big dumb idiot. You were the brother I always wanted. And from now on every time I do somethin’ stupid I’m gonna think about how you’re supposed to be there putting up with it and makin’ sure we don’t go n kill ourselves. We were supposed to have the next three hundred years to bug the crap outta each other and laugh and get Lilith to actually like you. We were supposed to have time.” And someone took that from him.

Something warm and wet ran down her cheeks, dripping off her chin to soak the bread. She couldn’t move. She didn’t so much as gasp or sob. The tears fell silently as if they too feared disturbing this moment. Eva felt the crack that had been forming along her heart since that morning grow until it felt like a physical agony. She bent in half, face nearly touching the dirt as she let the pain finally course through her. Her body shook and her face contorted into something beastly. Her nails dug into skin, but instead of skin armadillo armor barred her from digging into flesh. Even now her animals were protecting her. But Eva didn’t want her own safety. She wanted Anton’s. She wanted him to be okay, to greet her like always, and offer a new adventure, and everything to be alright.

She wanted Anton to be alive.

She meant every word. She would always love TonTon and he’d always be her family. But the anger and grief and confusion—they couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t know how long it would take to accept losing one of her own. She didn’t know if this pain would ever stop. She didn’t know if she could ever think of Anton again without feeling like she falling apart. But she did what she could now.

Eva rode the wave of emotions, let the skid of tears against skin fill the void that silence had made of her too dark world. She cried in the silence she hated so much until she finally had the breath to hum a shaky tune. A final goodbye for a boy who would always mean the world to her. He’d never hear her sing, but the melody filled her with some solace. And as she hummed, Eva could feel the sun’s rays as they touched her skin, bringing a new dawn.

And with the warmth of day came the sound of birds and the rustle of wind and sound returned once more to her even as the wind carried her voice into the sky and disappeared into the world.

Song: Message in the Wind by Carole & Tuesday

[saintheartwing]

Breaking Dawn, Pt. 3: Rise of the Red Helm

She was a normal, good solider. She truly was.

But she couldn't help but notice something wasn't...right...with her world.

She saw things...tolerated. Things that she could not stand. And she grew to despise these things. She didn't understand why they existed.

Until she met it. The crack. The rip. The Schism.

As she looked into it, knowledge ripped through her mind like a tidal wave, and she understood all. Understood what she was. Where she was. What she was meant to be.

And she realized now why she could not tolerate those things. Those...vermin.

She swore to destroy them.

They were all nothing more than robotic bugs.

And she...was going to make sure...everybody knew this.

Breaking Dawn, Part Three RISE OF THE RED HELM

The experience was...enlightening beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Simultaneously intoxicating and exhilarating, a breath of fresh air after years, YEARS of being locked away in the damp and the dark, beautiful...so damn beautiful.

And then that experience ended, and he was vaguely aware of a spectral, ghostly form gently patting him on one shoulder, a smile spreading across a draconic face with sweet, kindly eyes, black with a faint tint of green at the bottom, and pupils like a shining star. It spread it's wings over him, his Lord, his God, speaking in a voice so harmonious that the very words uttered from its mouth threatened to annihilate his very existence with their divinity. He was standing in the presence of sacred fire, and like Zeus before the average mortal, it was a wonder he could endure it and wasn't being burnt up.

"You're different...from most of the others." It told him. "...I think I could tolerate you more. You've got the seeds of real potential in you, my host. Are you prepared?"

"P-prepared f-for what?" Senior asked, stuttering nervously as Sude smiled broadly.

"I have need of you for a mission. I'll hide away within you...be only visible TO you, audible to you. Return to your charge, the once called Maht. I'll explain when you've returned to the ship you call your home." Sude informed him, wrapping his immense wings and powerful arms around him, almost sinking into his body. Senior gasped, patting his chest, his stomach, his arms...

The Irken in him was astounded, frightened, confused. This being wasn't an Irken! It was skaatel, it was...

Yet...the power...the sheer, awe-inspiring beauty that had filled his form...that had been more enjoyable than anything he'd ever felt. He'd felt tiny doses of it, listening to Earthen music...those quiet moments from the past with the two beings he had loved, were he capable of love. Pure happiness...that was it. Unbridled joy.

He WANTED to feel that again, above all else. And if he did what this thing asked of him, he might be able to feel it again. He would have done ANYTHING to feel it.

So he exited the restroom, heading back in Maht's direction as the service drone helped somebody back up from the ground, they'd tripped and had dropped all of their merchandise and Maht was putting it back in their cart for them. "You're very helpful, sir." The half-Irken, half-Vortian admitted as Senior stood by Maht, who nodded cheerily at the Vortken.

Senior nervously gulped. He didn't REALLY have anything personal against ANY Vortians or other species. His PAK had, after all, been encoded in a time when other species had been allies to the Empire, when it had been considerably less bullying, conquering not with cruelty, but with a kiss, a time when all the Irken race had wanted was for all beings to speak Irken, know Irken culture, trade with Irk, and it wasn't like there weren't perks to this...

Still, he was slightly...uncomfortable around half-breeds, or "mongrels". Most Irkens had sexual organs deeply embedded, useless like a human appendix. Stored deep inside, never to be used. Ignored. What crazy lunatics would undergo the procedure to bring those organs out and...and breed with other beings? It seemed so...barbaric!

He tried to summon up a smile and gave a half-hearted chuckle at the Vortken as he turned to Maht, pointing at an invisible watch on his wrist. "Methinks it's time we find the others and meet up for lunch. Let's head to the food district."

Making their way out of the warehouse and through the streets, Maht examined a magazine he'd bought, entitled "Irken Weekly". The headlines were quite attention-grabbing. "Resisty Rocks: Irken Resistance Movement gains in the Pollls Through Popular Programming", "How to style your lekku"-

EWWWW. People could PIERCE that part of the body? YECCCH.

Wait. What was this? "The Red Helm Strikes Again".

Red Helm?

Senior frowned. He'd heard reports about this "Red Helm" lately, this vigilante being that stalked the streets of Irk. People had a tendency to DIE if they crossed his path. Die horribly. Most of the time nobody was able to find all of the pieces of whatever poor soul had met the Red Helm in some dark, dingy alley. The only thing the victims had in common seemed to be that they had all been members of the Irken military.

What neither Maht nor Senior knew was that several miles away, in an underground bunker, Irken commanders of the local military were all discussing their latest problems, which could be summed up quite easily in one sentence.

"HE'S KILLING EVERYONE!"

Fists slammed onto a table as dozens of armed guards stood by the exits below a catwalk, the commanders sitting around a circular table. The Irken who'd shouted shook his slightly hexagonal head back and forth. "I had thought that we'd be able to put a lid on the media...why are they being allowed to report this?"

"We've TRIED, sir, but they keep moving locations. And word-of-mouth is spreading the news about the Red Helm like wildfire."

"You called us here because you've got a plan, haven't you?" Another commander asked, one of nearly black skin, eyes steely and cold as he steepled his gloved claws.

"No, I did not." The man from before mumbled, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair, scowling behind his Elite mask. "I thought it was you. You've lost five officers, haven't you?"

"Today it makes six. SIX! Some of my best people."

"Oh, screw this." Another captain spoke up, standing up from the chair. "I'm done here. You brain donors wanna stick around-"

"Siddown, Captain Kroonch." A low, growling voice snarled out from atop the catwalk, as a being stepped out into the light, resting black-gloved hands upon the railing. It was a being dressed in black and red armor, a large red breastplate upon his chest with two spiky wings hanging low from his shoulder blades, with a horned helm. Two curled down the side of it's head like a ram, with a final spike jutting up from the forehead. It appeared as though the Red Helm had decided to make a personal appearance, and he was every bit as imposing as they'd heard.

His soulless red eyes blazed down at them as they felt a faint smile make it's way through the helmet that covered his head. "You've all authorized a recent...campaign. A secret one. Targeting defectives. You thought nobody would find OUT?" He growled. "Nobody reports the death of poor defectives. But poor soldiers dying in the line of duty? Oh, THAT sells."

"You ASKING to die?" The dark-skinned commander snarled. "There are easier ways of doing it!"

"Yeah, like yelling at the lunatic that's eviscerated every single military idiot he's come across with his hands alone." The Red Helm laughed darkly, shutting him up. "Now you tell me. Your hired killer. The one leaving bodies for yours truly to find and give respect...the name. I want the name."

"..." The Irkens at the table all looked around at each other. "...we're not telling you ANYTHING." One of the captains growled, pointing accusingly at the Red Helm.

The Red Helm's eyes narrowed as it pointed it's palm at the captain, a red circle glowing on it's palm as a burning blast of red energy shot clear through the air, snatching the captain up.

He barely had time to scream.

"That...is going to be all of you...unless you start talking." The Red Helm asked as everyone stepped away from Mr. Friz's head, Mr. Friz's right hand, Mr. Friz's left leg...heck, EVERYONE had a little piece of Mr. Friz to take home for a souvenir now.

"Earth culture's rather primitive, but it appears as though they're right about one thing...military intelligence truly IS an oxymoron. You're all really so dumb that you'll choose your empire over self-preservation? Yeah, just what your commanders taught you to. Mine..."

His eyes narrowed. "For me...it was different. As my commander lay DYING in front of me because of a mistake the Empire made, I realized then I didn't really give two shits what the higher-ups thought because as far as they were concerned, I was just cannon fodder. We're ALL just cannon fodder. I might actually be doing you a favor, giving you all quick deaths here..." The vigilante spoke quietly, dangerously, eyes glimmering as he raised his gloved hand high. "I promised him to make people like you pay...and, well...you should NEVER break a promise." The helmeted being said calmly.

"Wiyn! Her name's Wiyn!" The black-skinned Irken immediately blabbed out, Mr. Friz's intestinal tract f his squeedly-spooch dangling off his head. "She's an Elite Grunt! Dark olive green skin and even darker green eyes!" The commander squealed, covering his head with his arms. "We gave her the list of known defects three months ago!"

"Well...that wasn't so hard, was it?" The Red Helm said cheerily, clapping his hands as he began to shrink back into the shadows. "Just remember...I'm watching...and I'm waiting for you to slip up again. If you send another one of her out there...you're dead."

With that, it was gone, and the little makeshift military tribunal looked around at each other, wondering what they'd unleashed.

...

...

...

...it wasn't long before all of Senior's charges were sitting at a table at "Deep Fried Dan's Diner". Everything that wasn't fried and buttered was swimming in gravy, just the way most of them liked it.

"Hey, where's my sly-doo-dee-doo?" Dite wanted to know, shouting furiously as he banged his fist on the table. The head chef pulled out a smoking...THING...from a furnace, holding it aloft on a prong, and calmly fake-ran through the diner, holding the burning thing high and humming the theme to the Olympics as he deposited it on Dite's plate. "...I'll be grateful when this "Earth" fad is over." Dite mumbled.

Yes, everybody had ordered something that would surely give them heart attacks...save for Feyr, who had decided to simply have some potato chips. Lots of them.

"I think your hand is becoming translucent." Xeil mumbled as the pink-eyed consular stuffed more and more into his mouth, hungrily gobbling the chips down, pieces of the chips spraying out over a dark, steely-grey table. "So much GREASE."

"Like your deep-fried Blorblegax Breast has any less." Feyr muttered out in between mouthfuls, slurping down his meal with some orange soda. "My, you're awfully hungry today, sir, if you do not mind me saying so." He added, looking at Senior as his taller hungrily wolfed down cheesy nachos. "It reminds me of the prisoners in our holding cells, they're so starved it's like they're eating for two!" He tapped his lip. "That reminds me, has anybody seen the latest "Irk Weekly"? There's been more and more captures of Resisty supporters on this planet, they're becoming AWFULLY popular for such a stupidly-named group."

"It's the theme song." Senior reasoned as he swallowed the last of his nachos, noticing the television above the bar had been turned on to the very show so the waitress and other patrons could see what the big deal was. "It's just so friggin' hard to not like."

The world is a vampire...sent to draaaa-aaaa-aaaaain!

"Yeah, we're badass." The grey-skinned, horned being named Lard Nar said as he addressed the camera, his green-goggled eyes catching the light of a passing sun as their ship soared through the stars.

Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage!

"Of COURSE you're gonna get sucked in after THAT." Senior insisted, waving his hand at the television as the show started.

"HEY!" The orange-eyed female smacked Maht's hand away from her tray, baring sharp teeth. "MINE!"

"Well, it appears as though the Resisty are doing a raid, a LIVE raid upon..." Jayd's eyes widened as he trailed off.

Wait. Was that...

"...is that...the alley behind this diner?" The waitress asked as Lard Nar grinned into the camera.

"Perception filters. New! Improved! We're practically invisible here we see the BEAUTIFUL capital city of Irk! So much culture! So many Irkens!...we're gonna blow this diner up." The Vortian laughed. "Mostly for kicks and giggles."

"Everybody out of the diner, NOW!" Jayd yelled out, eyes widening as he turned to see-

Senior was gone. What the?

No, wait. He was now on the television, facing down the Resisty, two familiar pistols...well, familiar for Maht, anyhow, held high. "Stop the countdown." He demanded. "I am giving you fair warning, this is the kindest I can be to known rebels like you."

"...hello...big "N"." Lard Nar said quietly. "...been a a while, huh?"

"...stop this, Nar." Senior said. "I'm sorry we blamed your people for Spork and Miyuki, I AM, but if your kind keeps resisting, you'll keep suffering more."

"We'll suffer no matter what your kind do unless WE do something about it. So...no. stop what we're doing?...we can't do that. And...we WON'T." Lard Nar spoke, looking squarely at the Irken as his men vanished, teleporting away one by one, only he and a hooded Vortian remaining. "In ten seconds it goes ka-blooey. What can I say? I LIKE it when things go ka-boom." With that, Lard Nar stuck out his tongue, giving a loud raspberry.

"I SAID STOP IT, YOU STUPID-!" Senior yelled, his PAK suddenly popping a tiny jet engine out from the end. He raced through the air right at Lard Nar...

But the hooded Vortian tackled him, and they were sent flying out of the alley as Lard Nar teleported to safety, the rest of the bar patrons running as fast as they could out of the diner before it could-

It was like an enormous sparkling blue dome rose up from the back of the diner, encasing everything within a 100-foot radius. It sizzled and sparked, the others watching, eyes wide...until at last, the dome faded...and everything that had been within it was...just gone. GONE. As if it had never been.

"...don't suppose anyone has a portable television on them?" Dite asked calmly.

Jayd pulled out a small, scanner-shaped object from his belt, and it "pinged" as it came to life. He tuned it to the right channel with small little dials on either side of the portable TV before finally finding the broadcast of the Resisty...and a message was going out by a hooded being wearing blue. She appeared to be standing before a large poster of the Resisty's that showed them all muscular and buff, with a faint light emanating to the right-hand-side of whatever room she was in.

"Greetings, planet Irk." A vaguely feminine voice crooned, a voice disguise filter keeping her real voice from being heard. "I am the Wing, who shields the Resisty. We are the new hope for this galaxy. Hope for a brighter future. Hope for a better world for all. We are willing...to allow Irk to become a part of that in exchange for it's surrender."

She gestured to the right, towards the soft light and the camera now focused on something that had manifested in an enormous storage bay...the diner that had just vanished, people being paraded out...not merely that, there were other buildings captured as well.

"They're TELEPORTALS. Miniature stations that send whomever's captured up to the Resisty!" Xeil realized. "Damnit, they've gotten smarter."

"We shall indoctrinate those captured, and they'll learn our ways...support our cause. If you seek a better life, you are free to seek us out. Defectives of Irk...those who desire more, remember...there is ALWAYS hope." The Wing insisted as the broadcast came to an end and they all looked around at each other.

"...always...hope? Well, they've not gotten any less corny." Dite laughed.

Meanwhile, Senior was grappling with the hooded Vortian in midair, spinning around and around, his PAK sending them higher and higher. "Stop this!" He demanded. "If you don't surrender now, we'll most likely BOTH die! Surrender and I'll spare your life, little Vortian!"

"I'd sooner die than be an Irken slave, you SCUM!" The Vortian spat in his face, trying to scratch him with her pointed nails. He grabbed her wrist, angrily glaring at her as a faint white light glimmered off his body.

"You will SLEEP now." Sude's voice came out of Senior's mouth. "I shan't let you harm my host."

The Vortian woman stiffened, eyes widening beneath the hood before she passed out in an instant, Senior looking stupidly down at what he had in his arms. "Did...did YOU do that?" He asked Sude.

"A, how shall I say this...fringe benefit." It told him. "I will do EVERYTHING to keep you from death."

Senior turned himself back towards the city, heading towards his charges, prisoner held carefully in his arms. "Well, this could work out even better than I thought..." He mused to himself as he touched down to where the others were. "Feyr, you're the one who deals with prisoners. Bring her back to the Massive, whilst I write up a report on what's occurred."

With that, the gang split up anew...nobody noticing where Dite was walking off too.

Nobody...save for Senior.

...

...

...

...vermin. All of them. Filthy vermin.

She hissed to herself, leaping from roof to roof, the stars shimmering overhead. Nighttime had fallen over her city. HER city. Hers and hers alone, for people like her.

And they weren't anything like the vermin she was hunting. She finally caught sight of him as she leaned on her knees by the edge of a high-speed monorail, eyes narrowing beneath the pink hood she wore. Dark shorts, shoulder guards, black gloves...Elite Grunt Wiyn was ready, and waiting...waiting...almost there...

She leapt down at him, laughing. "Riddle me this! What's pink and maroon, but covered in dark green?"

THWOMP!

"YOU!" She laughed, calmly getting off the terrified Invader as she pulled out a small electro-knife, lightning crackling from its tip. "When I land upon your sorry, wasteful behind."

"Wh-what do you want?" It whimpered, blue eyes widening in horror.

"Well...your eyes. And then your life." Wiyn explained calmly, her knees pinning the Irken invader to the ground below as she held the knife to the vermin's eye. "You can help me send defects like you a message."

KRAKKA-THROOOOM!

Wiyn was knocked through the air by a shotgun blast of power as the Invader "eeped", staring at his unlikely savior...the Red Helm himself, who lowered a smoking hand, balefully glaring at Wiyn as she rose from out of the trash cans she'd knocked into. "Well?...what's the message?" He growled.

"A SIMPLE one, actually. CARE TO GUESS?" Wiyn whined, tossing the knife away, pulling out two powerful-looking pistols as her PAK opened up, her arachnid-esque mechanical legs making her rise into the air like an armed spider. She grinned darkly, racing towards the Red Helm, firing away at him as the Invader she'd been terrorizing ran for his life, the Red Helm leaping away from her, spinning through the air.

She jumped after him, continuing to fire as he raced up the wall of a nearby armory, finally jumping off and slamming his booted feet into her face, knocking her back and forcing her hood down, revealing curled antennae and a horrid scowl. Deciding that the pistols just weren't cutting it, she snapped her fingers, two long blades sheathing out of the PAK as she raced towards the Red Helm, slashing and slicing as he danced away, trying to avoid her.

Unfortunately one hard PAK leg caught him under the chin and sent him flying into the wall. He panted heavily, some blood dribbling down from his helmet as he growled at her, a faint, spectral image momentarily appearing behind him. "So...you have all this power and all you do is kill people with it?"

"DEFECTIVES. Not "people"." Wiyn growled.

"That schmuck back there only had blue eyes!" The Red Helm snapped. "Who GIVES a flying-"

"Ido! They should be red! Or purple! Or green! Or brown! Anything else is DEFECTIVE! And you...I can clearly tell YOU'RE defective. Personalizing such a gaudy outfit." Wiyn hissed, spinning her blades in a circular pattern.

"Oh, you view ANY sign of creativity as defectiveness, huh? Bite me."

"I DON'T MIND IF I DO!" She laughed, snapping her jaws and racing at him as he managed to leap away again, pointing a palm at her, a blast of blazing red power slamming into her back and knocking her into a dumpster, making her screech in pain. "Did you look into the Schism too, then?" She mused quietly. "Your outfit's beyond simple defectiveness."

"...no." The Red Helm said calmly. "I've been bound to a superior being. But I know of what you speak." He admitted. "Reality is bursting at the seams, right? But I don't really care. I'm just interested in getting even with everybody in a uniform. You couldn't find a better piece of scum than people like them...like the people who gave you up to save their own hides!" The helmeted Irken laughed, thrusting two arms forward, sweeping bands of red energy pinning Wiyn to the ground as he approached her, cracking his knuckles.

"Oh, yes, I heard from them. They had to be disposed of." She remarked calmly.

"You KILLED them for telling on you?" The Red Helm asked. "No honor among thieves, eh?"

"I am putting the good of the empire before my own life in dealing with defectives. They could have tried to do the same. Self-preservation over the Empire? Unacceptable." Wiyn said, suddenly bursting free of the bands that held her down and kicking the Red Helm in the gut, making him keel over and vulnerable to a powerful uppercut that launched him through the air.

The Red Helm panted as he lay on the ground, groaning as Wiyn approached, one PAK leg held high. "I thought you'd put up more of an effort."

Suddenly the Red Helm was not an Irken at all. Now he was a towering brute, head spiked and red eyes a-glow as a bladed tail swept back and forth and muscular arms gripped a surprised Wiyn tightly. "Oh tHiS iSn'T a FiGhT. It Is A sImPlE sLaUgHtEr." The thing laughed.

"PUT ME DOWN!" Wiyn snapped. "PUT MY AMAZINGLY SUPERIOR SELF-"

Wiyn didn't get the chance to finish her sentence. The thing launched her through the air, clapping imaginary dust off it's clawed hands as it reverted back to the Red Helm, who sighed.

"She'll be back, no doubt."

"I shall be waiting, then. I'm sorry you can't stay here to finish the job yourself, but don't worry. Next time she shows up, I'll have a party waiting for her. And when I say PARTY, I mean a whole lotta people that are gonna kill her DEAD!" The Entity of Rage laughed darkly.

Senior's eyes widened as Sude whispered for him to be quiet. "It is him. Chulainn. Entity of Rage."

"There are others like you?" Senior thought back at his host.

"Oh yes. Several of them." Sude said. "And I could vaguely sense them here on Irk. I imagine they've all bonded with hosts the way I've bonded with you."

"...maybe it's time...you tell me where you're from." Senior whispered.

"I heard that, Senior." Dite the Elite roared out, turning his head in Senior's direction as the Entity of Rage manifested by HIS charge. Senior frowned, stepping out of the alleyway, his own Entity hovering nearby.

"Well...well." Chulainn murmured, red eyes a-glitter, muscular arms folded over his chest. "If it isn't Puff the Magic Dragon...and his host. Pleased to meet you. Won'tcha guess my name?"

"I've heard that song before." Senior spoke up, waving a hand in the air. "I don't like it. Dite...how long have you been...tied to this thing?"

"That doesn't really matter, does it?" Dite inquired calmly. "...not to me. There's a war coming." Dite explained. "The Resisty's just the beginning of it. Can't you feel it? Reality is bursting apart, schisms in time and space are ripping open. The War of Light shall come...all will blend, becoming black, and then the White will sweep everything away. That's why we need to make sure you're alive." Dite told Sude, pointing with a finger, the helm falling away, revealing his true face.

HER true face.

"...you're...a girl." Senior gasped.

"Yes." She said quietly. "I am. My own private little secret." She laughed.

"I want to help you." Senior said. "Tell me how this happened. Let me help you. Please."

For a moment, genuine surprise flickered over Dite's face, and then her expression became slightly sad. "...you're frightened by what I am. But this is me now. It's too late for me. I'm staying here...and just getting started."

With that, she thrust her fist into the ground, a flash of red light blinding Senior before...

She was gone. He blinked stupidly, scratching his head before turning to his own entity. "Okay, TALK. What is this "War of Light"?" He demanded to know. "If you're gonna make me your host, you're gonna tell me why you need a host, why one of my charges is dismembering people around my planet!"

Sude chewed his lip. "...I'll explain it." He murmured. "...but once I do, I warn you...there's no going back."

"I'm not...scared." Senior growled at the draconic being's face.

"...well..." Sude folded his arms and sighed before he held one clawed hand up to it's host's head, as knowledge began to fill Senior's mind, images playing out before his eyes.

"It begins as all tales do...In the beginning..."

...

...

...

...in the beginning, there was light. The universe belonged to the light. For seven hundred and seventy seven years there was nothing but blinding white light. It looked upon all it saw, all it was, and all it was...was pure and good. Then came the splintering of the light as the foundations of the black were laid...

The light became many as it's purity died away. It became passion. It became diligence. It became intelligence. It became will. It became hope. It became love. It became compassion. The Seven Heavens looked upon their universe and swore to make sure all felt their blessings.

But they were splintered further and further. The white became more and more corrupted, chipped away, again and again until it was barely a whisper. In response, three of the Heavens grew darkened by the spreading of the corruption...

And they began to plot and plan. They felt only their light was the true light, and the others became just tainted enough to believe this lie to be true.

They shall fight. They shall begin the War of Light.

And The War of Light shall return all to White.

Senior fell to the ground, panting heavily. He had witnessed the very birth of the universe and life itself. Entire planets had just been born and then destroyed before his eyes...he understood now. The knowledge filled him.

It was NEAT.

"You've met what was once my Passion. Now it's become Rage." Sude said. "I want to turn the corrupted entities good again...and find the others quickly. Stop this war before it spreads across the galaxy and makes innocents suffer. And I sense every single one of them is on this planet, a planet that holds the fate of much of the galaxy in it's hands." The draconic being insisted, clenching his fist tightly.

"Then...we need to ground the Massive. It's LEAVING in two hours." Senior realized out loud. "We keep it here, you and I will have more time to search, and any second counts."

"Speaking of "count", does this mean I can count on your assistance, then, Senior Communications Officer of the Massive?" Sude wished to know, tilting his head to the side slightly as he hovered around Senior, who stood back up on his feet.

"...please...call me "Nick"." The officer insisted. "...I prefer that among friends." He added sheepishly.

[avocaguk]

—Where does your love lie?

PAIRING HISTORIA REISS X GN READER

GENRE fluff <3, hint of angst (just a lil sprinkle i promise), me trying to cope from szn4 if you squint

WARNING very slight s4 mentions!

requested by: anon!

↦ You show Historia your love through the (attempted) task of braiding your daughter's hair.

Early mornings, much like this one, have always conflicted Historia Reiss' full head of molten-blonde hair with whispering thoughts. It starts with a bittersweet feeling that freezes her fingertips, and just like an itch she can’t get rid of, it melts into a river of uneasiness that spreads with a deadly warmth; the kind that fills your ribs with pressure, every intake of air crushing her chest with the same pulsing aches the heart is desperately trying to conceal.

The roseate sun kisses the horizon, waiting patiently for the world to wake up as it's gentle rays cover everything in gold, including Historia's doll-like porcelain complexion. She finds the intense warmth quite pleasant. Every once in a while, the dawn that accompanies the changing skies gifts the sunrise with a cool breeze, tickling the tip of her nose when strands of her hair flow by.

However, the beauty of the faun and flora awakening from slumber isn't enough to keep her thundering thoughts at bay.

Historia props both of her legs up towards her chest. She lazily rests her chin atop her knees and heaves a heavy sigh.

"Come home," she mumbles, unenthusiastically blowing the daffodil in front of her. "Please, let them come home."

Her eyes glaze over the array of colours buzzing alive in the scene before her: Rolling green hills covered in beautiful flowers that seem to never end, sturdy mountains in the distance casting a slight frost into the summer air and the line of green trees reaching out into the horizon to meet the dazzling water. For a place full of pain and betrayal, the land they live upon seemed to be a sight holding nothing but freedom.

With a gentle hand placed over her heart, Historia thinks about her friends— her family, that travel days away from the other side of the ocean. She thinks about their training days, each of the cadets holding young hopeful eyes yearning to learn the wonders of the world.

Of the world outside the walls, that is.

She thinks about how the flower-ridden field she lays in used to be the dream Eren and Armin would constantly babble over, a forgiving love filling their hearts before the pain of growing up extinguished the light in their eyes.

Historia figures that Armin, whether it be the grown man now or the lost boy back then, would be delighted to see a sight like this. To bask in fields of green with the sun caressing sweet kisses on your skin, much like the comfort a mother would bring to a child. He never got the chance, however. Instead, they spent a handful of years conditioning their hearts into steel, and while they fought day after day, Historia spent each waking morning bearing the burden of wearing the crown.

It's been a long four years. The scouts have made remarkable advancements for Paradis' technology, and now the ones she suffered with throughout her adolescence fight another battle in a faraway land, Marley. She wonders if they'll come home with smaller numbers than they left with, or if they'll even come home at all.

The idea brings a bitter taste in her mouth.

Historia pushes the thought away.

She gently stands up to dust off her light brown skirt, pressing her lips together into a struggling grin, deciding that endlessly worrying would not change anything. Instead, she sighs deeply and puts a soft smile on her face.

The birds chirp charmingly, and that's when Historia knows it's time for breakfast.

Merchants and nobles alike endlessly fawn over the luxury of living inside the castle, the marvellous pillars of marble casting an envy on the mundane as the building is tucked away within the walls of the capital. 

The Queen herself finds it quite beautiful, but there’s a certain sense of familial simplicity that the stone cottage just outside Wall Maria enchants upon Historia.

She’s always preferred places like this-- a home like this, rather than the massive hallways that fill the castle. They squirm with servants and guards in every corner, but they feel as lonely as the winter that cools the iron framing. 

The worn-out pebbles that weave a path towards your shared cottage is a sight that Historia knows all the well. A gentle chuckle bubbles in her chest while a small grin pulls the corners of her mouth, the basket filled with flowers bobbing left to right on her arm once she walks a bit faster. She feels the freedom of wearing ordinary clothes, grass tickling her ankles instead of the royal shoes that also happen to be a royal pain in the ass, and the sweetness of wind running through her hair rather than the constricted feeling of having it slicked back. 

Here, Historia feels free of any weight on her shoulders. 

Here, she feels the same as she did when she finally introduced herself as Historia Reiss to the scouts she learned to call family. 

She didn’t need to be the Queen in the meadows outside the walls. She only needed to be another person living here, existing here, breathing here. Just another person bearing the title of a mother, a friend and a lover.

Historia reaches to turn the doorknob, however she finds that it’s already opened as it creaks slowly. The smell of freshly baked bread basks in the air, and the crackle of the firewood tickles her ears. Her mug of coffee remains untouched on the wooden table, and all the chairs haven’t seemed to be moved. The floorboards croak lowly as she shuts the door behind her, a gentle hum accompanying the thud that sounds once Historia sets the flower basket down. 

“I’m home!” She calls out, opening the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. Historia skillfully takes the bread out of the furnace and places it next to the eggs. “Breakfast is ready, my loves.” 

She expects to hear the usual footsteps tapping across the floor, small giggles of excitement breaking the silence of early mornings once you and your daughter prepare to wreak havoc on the day. However, it doesn’t come today. 

You should have been awake by now, Historia thinks. Ymir, Historia’s daughter, has never been much of an early bird either, but the both of you have always been awake to greet the bubbly blonde returning from her morning trips. Now that it comes to mind, Historia comes to notice that she hasn’t seen the pairing around these days. She figures you’ve been off to your daily shenanigans, but even then you’d make a grand appearance just to bug her for the fun of it. 

“The eggs are going to get cold!” Historia sings teasingly, attempting to lure you two out from wherever you and Ymir were scheming from. A pout is Historia’s response to the silence she gets as an answer. Sighing curiously, she heads off to the hallway. 

Historia sneakily peeks her head into the two main rooms, expecting a certain four-year-old to pop up and scare her, but to no avail, they’re just as empty as they sounded to be. Historia nearly decides to check the flower fields just outside the cottage, though her steps are hastily redirected once she sees the familiar candle light shining through the crack of the last door down the hallway. 

She grins and quickens her cautious steps. You always forget to blow the candle out in the morning, so the room Historia skips towards is her best bet at finding the person--and toddler-- that warm her heart.

The young woman is ready to burst through the door, a playful shout waiting at the tip of her tongue, though she abruptly stops in her tracks at the sound of hushed whispers. With light feet, Historia places her hand on the door as she stares in from the slight opening. 

“Can you please go any faster? I think my hair is going to fall out!” Ymir whines as she sits with her legs criss-crossed on the wooden floor. “I promise it’ll look nice, I just know it!” 

Historia slightly pushes the door wider to get a better peak, and she finds you sitting at the edge of the bed with Ymir snuggled in the space between your lap. 

“Stay still, Ymir,” You sigh hopelessly, “you know your mother does it better.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, you know. I’m sure mama would like it, cause she likes you so that means she has to like it, right?” Ymir groans sassily, dramatically swaying her body as your hands tag along, clumsily gripping the three strands of hair slipping between your fingers. 

“Mama always tells me to ask for help when I need to, so why don’t ya ask her? I think your braids are turning my hair into knots.” Ymir pouts. 

A slight frown appears on your face after your daughter’s snarky comment, but you can’t deny the light laugh that follows afterwards. “I just thought it’d be nice to do your hair, sweetheart.” Your fingers take turns intertwining the strands of hair into a pattern, “Besides, I think I’m getting better.”

Ymir grumbles lowly and throws her small hands in the air, “You’ve been saying that for three days now!” 

Historia bites her lip to prevent a laugh slipping out, warmth shining in her eyes as she thinks about the two of you sneaking off to practice doing a simple braid. 

The progress you had with Ymir’s requested hair-do quickly disappears (along with your hopes) once her hair slips out of your fingers, the poor excuse of a braid you’ve made effortlessly spiralling back to where you started. “Alright, Ymir, you win,” you shake your head and giggle, “I think it’s time to ask your mother for some help.” 

Ymir smirks triumphantly, rising up to kiss you on the cheek. “I still think it’s nice of you to try. Maybe I can practice on you one day!” 

Historia thinks that’s her cue to join in. She enters the room with an innocent giggle. “Now, what have you two been up to?” She crosses her arms across her chest as you quickly shoot up from the bed.

“Y-Ymir was just telling me a story, Historia,” You stutter, a hand snaking up to rub your nape. A light blush flushes the apples of your cheeks, “--and good morning, love.”

“No I wasn’t, you liar!” Ymir interjects, wiggling her eyebrows while pointing to her ruffled scalp, “Mama, don’t you see this braid! It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

You and Historia blankly stare at the lump of twisted hair sitting atop Ymir’s head, her shining eyes waiting to get a reaction out of the shorter blonde. 

Historia looks back at you, pride filling her chest despite the embarrassment that splatters across your cringing face. She smiles brightly at Ymir. “It’s lovely, dear. How about I finish the other side?”

Ymir nods excitedly and plops herself down in the same spot. Historia stands over the both of you, her arms sneaking over your shoulders as her strands of her golden hair brush against you. A familiar tune fills the air, Historia humming sweetly as her hands get to work. You watch her fingers skillfully pull your daughter’s hair into a beautiful braid, smiling softly at the manner in which your morning started. 

You never fail to notice the flowery, fresh scent that wafts in the air because of Historia, or the warmth her small frame emits. As Historia finishes up the braid, you think of all the ways Historia looks after family and friends alike.

Where does your love lie? You wonder as you tilt your head back to look at her ocean blue eyes. 

Ymir and Historia’s giggles fade into the background once you find your answer. 

In her fingertips, you figure, her love lies in her fingertips.

Historia’s love lies in her fingertips, from the way her warmth and care flows out from her hands to twist Ymir’s hair into a stunning pattern, to the way it feels when her fingers brush your cheek. You figure her love pulses from the palm of her hands, a silent affection engraved in the flowers she picks or the food she cooks. 

You think of how the scouts felt, knowing it was Historia’s hand who reached out to help whenever trouble awaited. The amount of wounds that have been tended to, or the simple act of holding another in her arms to show all the love that couldn’t be said. You realize the way in which her love doesn’t stop there, knowing that it flows from her fingertips all the way to the core of her being. 

Historia loves entirely, freely, without shame. You’ve come to learn that the first place it comes to show is in her hands. 

“Are you alright, love?” She asks, petting your head softly once you realize you spaced out. 

“Better than I could ever be.” You smile.

The sight of the sunlight shining upon her is something you’ll engrave into your memory. Historia giggles as she pulls both of you in for a warm hug.

She decides that she has no problem waiting for the scouts to return as long as you two are here. 

_____________

ahhh so sorry this took longer than expected! anyway, thank u for checking this piece out and i hope it brough sum sunshine especially after the latest episodes recently <3

[tokyoghoose]

[ 2:45pm ]

The pair of you were supposed to go to lunch with a couple of friends, but Tamaki is sure you won't mind missing it. Besides, it's raining outside and you would've just been frustrated because your hair would frizz and your face would get wet— and you hate when you sweat, not to mention rain. He would hate the crowded restaurant almost as much as he hates going out and doing these things at all, but he tries to do them for you because he knows how much you love your friends. He's been there in their shoes, after all. He remembers how you'd cancel plans just to hang around his dorm and do pretty much nothing but talk and enjoy each other's company. It honestly amazed him that he even got that fad with you, much less in a relationship that had been going two years strong now. He wasn't ready to tell you anything, but he's sure he wants to marry you sometime in the future.

You hated the outfit you picked out, that's how you got in this late situation anyway. It looked better in your head and when you tried it on it only crushed your confidence. You felt gross in it, even if it's pieces you've worn before separately. Why did you buy any of it in the first place? It made you want to cry, you had already felt hot tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you clawed to get the fabric off. Time was running out and you didn't have another outfit to wear and you felt awful even with your hair done and looking fresh-faced. You didn't even want to go now because you'd just feel self-conscious the entire time.

You're thoughts usually get the better of you, Tamaki had noticed. Very quickly into the relationship, in fact. So when you stayed in the bathroom for a little too long, he knocks lightly on the door and leans his ear to it, straining to hear a reply.

"Y/n?"

Then he heard a sniffle, followed by a weak and quiet 'give me a sec.' He shuffles but only for a minute when he hears a frustrated cry from inside, and then he gently pushes the door open. You couldn't get the dumb fabric over yourself, and if it were any other situation he would've probably laughed. But you're crying with a red face, turning away from the door and mumbling a 'get out.'

Tamaki hesitated before placing his hands on your lifted shoulders, squeezing lightly so you would relax. "Lemme see it," is all he replies, encouraging you to smooth the clothing back out. You send him a glare, or at least attempt to with the situation you're in, the clothing pretty much blocking out most of your face. You sigh with reluctance when he gives another encouraging squeeze and a reassuring smile that it couldn't look that bad before maneuvering to put it back where it was on your body.

Hesitantly he eyes you up and down, nodding to himself. His eyes only make you shrink away and flush, crossing your arms over yourself like a shield but he's quick to react, placing his hands onto your arms to melt away the shyness. After two years of dating and knowing each other even longer, he was still just as careful with his actions and you were still worried about what he thought about you. Yet, when your arms fall back at your sides and he allows his fingers to just barely run along with your figure, the doubt slowly slips away and to the back of your head for another time and you pout.

"I don't like how it looks, Tamaki."

He meets your eyes, the same adoring look in his that he always held for you before nodding with a 'tsk'.

"I think you look amazing." It's quiet but kind.

You shrug him off but still go in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck to bury your face in the crook, muttering against his skin, "You have to say that, you're my boyfriend."

Tamaki placed a hand to your hair, hovering just over it to not mess up the style too much before shaking his head stiffly, "I don't have to say that. It's just the truth, love."

"Even so, I'm suddenly very...tired."

He knows it's code for: I don't want to go anymore. He hums lightly and pulls away, instead taking your hand to rub his thumb caringly over the side of your skin.

"Let's take a nap then."

———

So now here you two are, tangled up in bed and the lunch long past over as the time inches closer to three in the afternoon. The rain padding against the window makes for nice background noise as he stirs awake, shifting carefully when he notices you asleep on his chest when normally it'd be the other way around. Heat rises to his cheeks and he adverts his eyes per habit.

His hand finds your hair—now messed up from shifting about— and gently combs through it, twirling it around his finger and gently untangling the knots. It dawns on him that he's also isn't usually the one to wake up first. The realization makes his movements stutter. Seems like today was full of firsts.

None the less, Tamaki takes the rare chance to really take you in. With all the hero work, it was unlikely to see you so relaxed and at peace. In the back of his mind, he knows that at any given chance a villain could attack and it'd all go away, but he's here now— even if it takes him a minute to get out of his head.

His eyes start from your hairline down, memorizing each little bump and blemish and freckle as he had done so, so many times before in other circumstances. Your eyebrows aren't knitted like they usually are, even when you're just at home doing nothing—it's like you're always on high alert for anything and everything, from a bug to an apocalypse rising. He moves his hand, thumb barely gliding over the thin hairs before he makes a path to your eye. He loves the color or them, of course, but it's what you hold in them that never ceases to make him swoon. So many emotions can be flashed through them in a matter of seconds, and he decides then and there that is favorite is when you see him. How they crinkle up with a smile that reaches the corners, aware of the crow feet wrinkles you'll get when you get old and grey—wow, he cant wait to get old and grey with you— and how they shine a little bit brighter towards him compared to your other friends, but that could just be his imagination.

He moves to your nose, brushing the bridge over it smoothly. He likes the shape of it. He likes how well it matches the rest of your face, as silly as it sounds. He hums quietly when he brushes over the little bumps and ridges closer to the tip. You're breathing has slowed down immensely, feather-light and if it weren't for your chest rising and falling against him- one might think you're on the verge of passing over. It's peaceful, he decides, and he could listen to the steady breathing for hours if given the chance.

But you'll wake up any minute now, he can feel it. So, he makes haste with the rest of your face. Your cheeks that get red whenever he unintentionally makes a flirty comment to your jaw that's quick to tighten up until he reminds you to loosen up a bit because you look irritated. And finally, he settles on your lips, the pad of his thumb ghosting over them like they're a delicacy. In some ways they are.

Tamaki could go on and on about your lips if someone was just willing to listen. He'd waited years to be able to kiss them, imagining them on his. It made him feel bad at the time, thinking he shouldn't think that way about a friend. It really tortured him for a while. But now he gets to feel them whenever you feel like granting him the access and he feels them everywhere, reveling in the sensation they leave after every trail. They smile for him—which is nice—and they aren't tight-lipped either. It's a genuine smile, a toothy grin every time and it makes his heart jump out of his chest.

They say tender words that he doesn't dare to speak, somehow always knowing what to say to make everything better. They're soft in their wake, yet rough when need be. Truly versatile. He lets his thumb swipe gingerly at your bottom lip, bringing it down to pinch your chin between his pointer finger before eventually pulling away. Maybe he needed to wake up before you more often.

Then you stir, making him jump and look away again out of habit. Like it's a crime to admire you. You let out a breathy chuckle, turning to look up at him and planting a gentle hand on his chest, pushing up to place a kiss on his jaw to watch his face go red. It's quite the sight, you must admit. The fact that you were able to elicit such a reaction of him makes you prideful, insecurities banishing for the time being.

Tamaki looks down at you, only the tips of his ears flushed now but he still looks like an angel in the dim light of the bedroom. You take his hand it lace it with yours as a silent thank you for earlier before laying your head back down in its place.

You didn't have to exchange words. The moment was enough to say you were glad you hadn't gone out that day because staying in bed, at home with each other was just the better option. Every time. And silently Tamaki thinks maybe he could get used to this kind of love—this kind of home.

—————

playlist:

this is home - cavetown

eyes - ambar lucid

sweet moon - sundarta

my heart is buried in venice - ricky montgomery

you - bobbie !

darling - christian leave

how to love you today - son of cloud

id like to walk around in your mind - vashti bunyan

just the two of us - grover washington jr

if you want to - beabadoobee

announcements!

I feel like this is a little ooc for Tamaki but I really wanted to write some tooth-rotting fluff, ya know? 🥴 but anyway, feedback is appreciated and requests are open!

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part fifteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5200 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part fifteen: The sun rises and it’s time to bring the herd home, but not before Dean reconnects with an old friend. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Dean & Rocko scene: ‘Road To Perdition’ - The City Of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra. Final scene: ‘Ride’ - Hans Zimmer. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: It’s about damn time, ain’t it? Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish​ and @winchest09​ for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

     Slow hoofbeats, little rocks and earth crunching underneath the thousand pound animal. Surprisingly light on its feet, never disturbing the quiet, as it scours the land for the last grass of the season. Calm breaths, taking in over a gallon of oxygen with each inhalation, followed by a soft purring sound when the air is pushed out through the nose. The cold of the night lingers and the air condensates. The first glint of the sun catches the moist clouds coming from its nostrils, turning the fierce creature into a dragon. Kind eyes, calm when it’s safe, but scanning the environment nevertheless, always on the lookout for predators. Pointy ears, flitting back and forth independently, picking up even the smallest whisper, like two little space antennas scanning the sky. 

     Dean watches the herd from a distance, with Y/N still sound asleep in his arms. He can tell she’s exhausted, because she didn’t stir once in the past three hours. The cowboy made sure she was fully covered with the unzipped sleeping bag, holding her close to keep her warm. She seems so comfortable, so trusting; it humbles him. Apparently she’s completely at ease being so close, her self-consciousness burned away by his never ending adoration. Of course he noticed the hesitation when they all went for a swim yesterday evening. She wanted to disappear, covering herself with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her expression shameful. And then there was the insecurity just hours ago, her mind clearly spiraling when he couldn’t give her the confirmation she so desperately seeks. Dean wonders what happened for her to lack confidence. If she has some douchebag ex-boyfriend maybe, who didn’t treat her right. 

     Staying awake wasn’t any trouble overnight, because he had plenty to think about. He’s not the guy to analyse his every thought, he'd rather stuff it all down and ignore them all together. But spending several hours under the Yucca tree, in an embrace with the one person that has his mind reeling, left him no option. So many questions, so much doubt. He wishes he had more answers, he wishes he could have a glance into the future in order to tell if he’s on the right path. If he can make it work with her, if he can step up to become the man she’s looking for. If she will stay with him, even after the internship, because the thought of her leaving brings back an anxiety that he used to experience when his family threatened to fall apart, which is exactly what happened, eventually. He came to one conclusion, though; he’s not going to let her go. 

     His gaze remains absently fixed on the horses, who have moved a few hundred yards closer. The oldest stallion of the herd had spotted the wranglers about an hour ago, but after careful observation decided that they weren’t a threat. It’s a beautiful sight, beams peeking over the mountain range, framing the horses’ silhouettes with gold. Small bugs twirl in the air like fireflies, surrounding the large animals. Dean squints and tips his head forward when the rising sun becomes brighter. The warmth is welcome; he hasn’t moved an inch over the past hours, not wanting to wake Y/N, causing the cold to settle in his bones. 

     A new dawn means they’ve got work to do and Dean is left no choice but to wake the heavy sleeper. The arrival of morning does the job for him, however; even with her eyes closed, the light seeps through. It triggers her to turn into him and hide her face in the crook between his shoulder and his chest. Y/N grunts, disagreeing with the time, and Dean sniggers. He’s not much of a morning person either, but his intern takes the cake.      “Mornin’, Yankee.”       She opens one eye and looks up, meeting an amused yet adoring smile.       “Morning…” Groggy, she rubs her face with the back of her hand. “Five more minutes?”      “You’ll miss the view,” Dean says, nodding at the horizon.

     His eyes reflect the scenery he’s beholding, the colors vibrant as the sun hits them just right, adding amber to the jade in his irises. It peaks her interest, and Y/N turns her head to face the new day. Only leaving a crack for the light to pass her long lashes, she takes in the mesmerizing scenery. On the edges of her vision, a darker shade of blue transitions into a lighter one, the tones changing from cold to warm as they enclose the sun. Cirrus clouds catch the first rays, curling across the sky like wisps of silk hair. From cobalt to pale turquoise, from apricot to saffron. The painter of this picture used every color on the spectrum. And smack in the middle, the sun rises. So bright, she seems to be aware that planets orbit around her. The Superstition Mountains stand proud and tall in the south, the peaks catching the early light, making the volcanic formations seem blood orange, as if lava is erupting from the earth once again. 

     The herd is only a couple of hundred yards away now, grazing calmly. They don’t seem to  be aware of the humans sitting on the top of the hill, almost as if Y/N is in a cinema, watching a gigantic movie screen. It would explain the idyllic Wild West decor, because such magic can only be created with CGI in a Hollywood studio. But they are here. Y/N can smell the air, sweet and earthy. She can hear the wind rustling small bushes and blowing gently through the canyons. She can feel Dean, the warmth radiating from his large form that has enveloped her.       “It’s breathtaking,” she says softly, leaning into him.      He places a soft kiss on her hair, and she smiles, content.       “Thanks for letting me sleep.”      He shrugs it off. “You needed it. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”      Y/N sits up and rolls her neck to loosen her muscles.       “It’s going to be intense, isn’t it?” she guesses, getting to her feet.      “I’d call it adventurous and exciting,” Dean chuckles, stretching his back now that he can move freely again. “Just like the old spaghetti westerns, y’know? Well… without the gun slinging and bounty hunts. It’ll be awesome, trust me.”

     Y/N sniggers, strolling around the Yucca tree to meet her horse. She finds it cute how the tough cowboy, who’s closing in on thirty, is beaming like a little kid. After ruffling Joplin’s mane, she takes a small case from one of the saddlebags, which holds her toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. She has found a new level of appreciation for these simple products of hygiene, given that she has been stripped from luxury and has to do with the absolute necessary. Especially since she’s not just kissing Dean in her dreams these days.

     Looking forward to the day on his doorstep, Dean pulls his radio phone from the front saddlebag, turning it on and twisting the knob to find the channel.      “Benny? Come in?”      He lets go of the PTT button, the device beeping once when he does, then it’s quiet for a moment. Mirroring Y/N’s actions, he one handedly fishes out his toothbrush as well, but when his friend doesn’t respond, he pushes the talk button again.      “You better get your lazy ass out of bed, Lafitte. Gotta bring the horses in.”      Dean clips the radio to his belt. He has brushed his teeth, rinsed his mouth and cleaned his face by the time the farrier replies.      “Good mornin’ to you too, Chief.”      Dean grins at the slightly cynical tone of the Southerner. He pushes the button again, moving the speaker closer to his mouth.       “We’re with the herd, on Black Top Mesa, close to Dutchman’s Trailhead. Ya’ll ready to move?”      “Sure am, just cooking up some breakfast to go. Do you want some or did you already eat out?”

     Y/N has never timed taking a sip of water worse, because it comes out through both her mouth and nose. Dean stares at her mortified before he snaps the walkie talkie to his mouth.      “She can hear ya, you jackass!” he returns, his voice higher than he anticipated.      “Oh, I bet she can.”      The head wrangler shuts his eyes and cringes, turning away from Y/N to hide his red face. His free hand goes for his belt loop first, then rubs the back of his neck, before wiping the sweat on the denim of his jeans. Shit, this is embarrassing.       “I - I - We… You know what? I don’t owe you an explanation,” he hisses into the radio phone.      “I’m just saying, brother, if you haven’t yet, it’s gonna take us at least forty five minutes to get to ya, so--”      “- Over and out, Benny!”

     Quickly, he turns the device off, breathes out, and scoffs. That son of a bitch. Dean isn’t sure how he’s going to make Benny pay just yet, but he will taste his wrath. He carefully glances over his shoulder to check on Y/N, who he finds with her hand clasped over her mouth, trying her very best to contain her giggles.      “You think that’s funny, huh?” he mutters, flustered.      She laughs warm and hearty, wiping tears from her eyes as she approaches the cowboy.      “You don’t need enemies with friends like him, that’s a given,” she chuckles.

     He glances at her, his mouth pulling into a smile. She can spot a hint of relief, now that he knows she’s taking it well, but blood still warms his cheeks, making his freckles invisible. It amazes her every single time how all that confidence washes away once he loses direction. Benny was just teasing him, Dean must be aware of that. Besides, it’s not like the green eyed wrangler to take things easy, as he said so himself, so it’s not strange his Southern friend figured he covered at least a couple of bases overnight. She can feel a blush add color to her face as well, when the thought crosses her mind. Honestly, she too silently hoped he would have gone ‘down that road’. 

     “Well, unfortunately he assumed wrong,” she addresses boldly, taking the collar of his stockman coat gently between her thumb and index finger, reeling him in. “But he was right about them taking at least forty five minutes to get here.”      Stunned eyes flick over her features, wondering if he’s imagining things or if she really just gained the confidence he’s lacking at this very moment. Once again she blows him off his feet with her newfound assertiveness, like she does every so often. Shit, she’s sexy when she takes the lead like that.       “He sure was,” he returns, his hands now moving to her waist.      “I know we agreed to take it easy,” she tilts her head slightly, folding her arms around his neck now. “So what should we do with all that time?”

     Dean smirks at her from under his hat, shaking his head amused without breaking eye contact. What a tease. He couldn’t resist her to save his own life. Her radiance is brighter than the rising sun behind her. The pull he’s experiencing, the level of attraction, it’s so strong; he knows he’s going to have a tough time sticking to his boundaries. He has to, though, he has to do right by her. But that doesn’t mean they can’t have a little fun along the way.      “I got a few ideas,” he implies.      Before Y/N knows it, the strong wrangler lifts her up, pulling a squeal from within her, followed by a fit of giggles. He adjusts his grip when she folds her legs around his middle, smothering her sly grin with a sweet kiss. The low chuckle that escapes his throat sounds both gentle and gruff, adding to the wholesome sensation that fills her chest.       By the Yucca tree, he lowers himself to the ground, still holding the cowgirl in his arms until she has found her balance and straddles his lap, a knee buried in the gravelly sand on either side of him. The intimate connection strengthens as they get lost in the moment, the laughs dying down, eyes falling shut. 

     Dean lets his fingers wander over the fabric of her clothes, tracing the lines of her neck, her spine, the curves of her hips. Feeling no pressure that this needs to lead somewhere right now calms him, because even though it’s proven to be difficult to keep their hands off each other, he knows she will give him the space he needs and, despite this little tease, she respects him more than he respects himself.       He makes a little mental note when she whimpers, as he continues to leave a trail of kisses from the corner of her mouth, down her throat and her collarbone. Dean might not go down on the beautiful cowgirl today, but he will remember the little touches that make her sigh and squirm. 

     Their agreement to take it slow, combined with Benny’s remark, sparked something new. Since their first kiss, she has been willing, eager for more, but now that what she wants is just out of reach, she finds it difficult to control herself. He can tell in the way she touches him, the audible breaths that reach his hearing when their mouths aren’t sealed together, the longing in her eyes when she opens them for a brief second. Dean never thought he would say it, but taking their time might have an advantage he hadn’t considered before. Teasing him, tempting her… it’s an interesting way to pass the time. Making each other wait might feel like a torturous game right now, but when the moment does arrive for them to take things to the next level, it’s going to be something else. And just like that, the bachelor who didn’t waste a second to get around with so many women, doesn’t mind waiting for the one.

     The two lay together for at least half an hour, making out like teenagers. Sweet touches, cute giggles, all smiles. If they could freeze time, they would. But when Dean glances north and notices the dust clouds coming from La Barge Canyon, they have to interrupt the intimacy; Benny and the others are on their way.

     Five minutes later, Dean shrugs off his long coat, now that the sun has cast out the crisp of the night. He folds it up tightly and stuffs it into one of his saddlebags. Y/N has already mounted Joplin, at home in the Tucker trail saddle. The mare didn’t entirely awaken from her slumber apparently, because for once in her life, she stands still and doesn’t bounce around impatiently like a bronc in the holding box at the rodeo. Her rider has her wrists crossed on the horn, the reins casually between her fingers, as she stares at the herd ahead.       “That’s the leader, isn’t it?” she says.

     Dean turns his head, looking at the dark bay horse, who stands between them and his congeners. The animal stares back, ears perked forward, one of them flicking back to the herd every now and them. The stallion observes him carefully, he doesn’t seem entirely sure how to deal with the presence of humans. He’s alert, ready to bolt and take his herd to safety, yet at the same time curious. Understandable, because these youngsters spent most of their life living as feral horses, only seeing men when they were moved from the reservation to the large winter pastures closer to the ranch, and back to the mountains when spring was around the corner.       “Yeah, seems like it,” Dean confirms, watching the beautiful creature.      He returns his gaze to the task at hand, tying the sleeping bag behind Ted’s saddle, but then realization hits him. Wait a minute, is that…? The wrangler turns to face the interested horse again, who is looking at him from about two hundred yards away, like he seems to recognize the cowboy as well.      Y/N glances from the wrangler to the horse and back. “Dean?”

     But he doesn’t respond, slowly stepping away from Ted, narrowing his eyes to see better. The horse’s mane grew long, his forelock covering his face, the black hair growing all the way down to his nose, but a hint of a blaze still visible through the curtain. Dark brown eyes take Dean in as the stallion waits, so still that one could mistake him for a statue, save the wind playing with his tail. The low vegetation hides the white markings on his legs, so the wrangler can’t tell for sure. It can’t be. He couldn’t have grown that big, he wouldn’t be the alpha, he reminds himself. But besides the horse’s size and rank within the herd, there’s nothing that indicates the animal, isn’t him. 

     Dean moves his hand to his mouth, pressing the tabs of his thumb and index finger together, creating a circle, before he places them on his lips. He inhales and whistles sharply. The sheer, high-pitched sound moves across the land, reaching ears miles away. The ears the whistle was meant for, pick up the unique sound too and instantly the caution and doubt in the horse’s stance is gone. He neighs back, loud and strong, confirming Dean’s suspicion.      “Well, I’ll be damned…” he breathes.      “You two know each other?” Y/N wonders.      Dean beams. “Yeah, we go way back.”

     He leaves Ted and Y/N on top of the hill, carefully making his way down the slope without spooking the feral horse. But the stallion doesn’t feel threatened anymore, now that he recognizes Dean. He jogs up to him, taking a few more steps before he halts. Friendly eyes take in the wrangler, his nostrils flaring when Dean tentivally reaches, picking up his scent. As a content smile spreads across Dean’s face, he lets his fingertips brush the horse’s nose, soft as velvet. He takes another step, gliding the palm of his hand up his jaw now, to his cheek and then down his neck, following the flow of the horse’s dark hair. The short summer coat has already partly been replaced, now that the cold of winter will arrive in a month or so.       Last time Dean saw him, he was barely two years old. A youngster, a boney juvenile, who was a tad small. Obviously the fellow needed more time. That’s why the wrangler gave his horse another year to grow. It worked out well, because look at him now.      “Hey, bud,” Dean says softly, ruffling the horse’s mane. “You got big.”

     From a distance, Y/N watches the reunion. She doesn’t know the whole story, but the connection between man and animal is unmistakably strong. They have a place in each other’s hearts and even though they have been apart for a while, that didn’t change. The leader of the herd, who one would expect to be dominant, accepts a human touch without hesitation. It’s an unusual response for a horse who has lived off the grid for years. 

     Warmth fills her chest, a smile on her lips, similar to the one Dean carries. It’s incredible to witness him around the animals that captivate them both. She has enjoyed his interactions many times before, watching him handle them on the ground, seeing him ride. Always kind, always respectful. He has a way with horses that is special. Her grandfather would have said he’s gifted. He also would have given her a thumbs up. Grandpa always offered wise words, often followed by silence, the quiet giving them even more strength. One of his sayings comes to mind: You can judge a man’s character by the way he treats his horses. Well then, if that’s a given, then Dean is definitely one of the kindest and most loving souls she has come across.

     The wrangler rubs the stallion’s shoulder, before he slowly turns around. He tries to beckon the beautiful dark horse with a simple shoulder movement, using only body language to invite the large animal to follow him. After a moment of hesitation, during which the stallion glances at his herd and back at his human, he follows. No rope, no pressure, no constraint, but free will. It’s hard to miss the pleased expression on Dean’s face when he looks up at the cowgirl, who still watches from Joplin’s back.      “I know country boys aren’t known for manners, but aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” she jokes.

     The stallion stops at the bottom of the small hill, aware that as the leader of his group, he still has a task to fulfill. He stands tall, checking on the herd, the autumn breeze catching his tangled mane, folding his tail around his hind legs. He looks almost mythical.      “His name is Rock N’ Roll.” Dean takes him in, proudly. “But he goes by Rock’o.”      “Is he yours?” she asks, curiously.      The wrangler nods. “I was there when he was born. He had a rough start in life. I bottle fed him the first couple of months.”      Amazed, she smiles at him. “No wonder you two are close.”             He returns her expression, taking a moment to absorb the image of both the woman who is conquering his heart, and his horse who already claimed it years ago.       “It’s gonna be much easier to bring in the herd with him on our side,” Dean says, moving to Ted’s left side, after which he puts his foot in the stirrup and swings the other over the saddle. “We have to handle it delicately, but he trusts me.”      “You think he will follow you?” Y/N assumes, keeping Joplin on the spot, who seems to have woken up from her nap, now that Dean mounted his horse as well.      “No, but he will keep the herd together. It's a misconception that the stallion leads the group. They are usually in the rear, driving up stragglers,” Dean explains.

     The head wrangler glances over his shoulder at the growing dust cloud, an indication that Benny and the rest of the crew are closing in. Within a minute, he spots the four riders and their pack horses coming over the hill. The mischievous grin on the Southerner’s face can be spotted from far away.      “Had a nice mornin’ ride, Chief?” he nags under his breath, once he has joined the two riders.      Dean shoots him a glare, his fiery green eyes demanding him to shut up without using actual words. Y/N heard the farrier, however, and no one is prepared for the comeback.      “Oh, we didn’t have time. Forty-five minutes isn’t nearly enough for what I had in mind,” she counters casually.

     Dean snorts, caught by surprise, while Benny cocks his head at the intern, staring at her bug-eyed. Y/N doesn’t give the the blue-eyed cowboy another second of her attention and leads her horse to Ted, her fingertips briefly touching Dean’s thigh as she passes him, before she rides down the hill, her head held high.      Amused, the head wrangler waits for his friend to catch the wide grin on his face, which he does once Benny snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head sniggering, his laugh rumbling deep and low in his chest.      “Brother, you are in way over your head,” he states. “She’s a pistol.”      Dean admittingly raises his brow, nodding in agreement while watching her ride off.      “She sure is.” 

     “Yah!”      In full gallop Y/N speeds up along the left flank of the herd, directing the horses back to a compact group every time they fan out. Benny and Macy are leading, Dean tailing, while Brad and Jon cover the right side. The head wrangler wasn’t lying when he said that it was going to be exciting, because she feels like she’s living a Wild West fantasy. 

     Joplin has her ears in her neck as she sprints away, cutting off two stallions who fan out. Her rider doesn’t even have to give a signal, the feisty dark mare knows exactly what to do. Even though she is smaller than the others, she stands her ground and didn’t think twice when one of the juvenile stallions took an interest in her. With a squeal and a firm kick she made clear not to mess with her, her zero-tolerance attitude keeping them at a safe distance. Y/N had a hunch Joplin was good at the job, otherwise Dean wouldn’t have chosen the strong minded horse for his intern, but she didn’t expect her partner to be this fierce. Unflagging, focussed, and fast as a bullet. It’s an absolute thrill to work with her.

     They pursued the herd into O’Grady Canyon, the higher cliffs on both sides helping the wranglers keep them together. They passed the rock formations of Tim’s Saddle and Dean and Y/N briefly exchanged a look and a smile as they crossed the small creek. Revisiting the place where they shared their first kiss only two days ago feels special, that night’s energy still in the air. So much has happened since, and yet their journey has only just begun. 

     After a quick drinking pause, they continued, before the herd could fall apart. Some of the animals are restless, while others follow a lot more calmly. Using horses instead of dirt bikes or even a helicopter is a lot less stressful for the feral animals, but being chased makes them nervous nonetheless. Rocko’s laid back attitude towards the humans keeps the panic in the herd contained to a minimum, though. 

     Thankfully, the weather is working in their favor for a change. A cool breeze is sweeping across the terrain and swishing through the canyons, keeping the temperature from rising to the heights it reached in the past couple of days. It’s a good thing the conditions are a lot more tolerable, because the riding is intense. The wind, together with the stampede, does kick up a lot of sand, engulfing the wranglers in clouds of earthy particles. Dean, being at the back of the herd, has pulled his neckerchief over his nose, keeping the dust from entering his lungs. 

     Halfway through the afternoon, the wranglers have managed to guide the group of horses safely down the slopes on the east banks of the Superstitions. A time consuming detour, but crossing the mountains without a herd is challenging enough, not to mention with over a dozen wild animals added to the clan. After descending the much smoother slopes for hours on end, the canyon functioning as a tunnel and relieving the pressure from the riders, the walls on either side fan out. Before them lays the valley, the small town of Gold Canyon in the far distance to the west, the sun edging towards it as the day begins to close in on the night. 

     “Yankee!”      It’s Dean who gets her attention, his voice rising above the sound of the stampede. Y/N turns in the saddle while she continues to follow the movement of her horse with her hips. Behind her, three young stallions have wandered away from the group in a matter of seconds. Joplin hasn’t noticed them yet, fixed on holding the flank ahead, but when her rider moves her hand to the left, she rolls away like a fighter jet. The little dark mare needs no encouragement and is at full speed within five strides, shooting across the terrain at a speed of forty miles an hour. Y/N has bent over Joplin’s neck, staying low in order to increase the aerodynamics. The fast rhythmic sound of hoofbeats tremor the ground, the wind rushes in her ears and drags tears from the corners of her eyes. The two cut off the youngsters, redirecting them back to the herd like they have been doing this together for years. Y/N’s partner in crime pushes her ears back and snaps her teeth, not so kindly advising the horses to hurry it up or else, triggering her rider to grin at her feisty character. Once the three join the others, the cowgirl lets out a cheer, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Dean was absolutely right, this is just like a spaghetti western. 

     They ride along the promontory of the mountains to their right, roughly following the Lost Goldmine trail. By the time the company passes a volcanic remnant called Turk’s Head, the sky begins to change, adding orange to the blues. A glance at her old watch tells her it’s 5.10 PM. Three days ago she kept feeling her back pocket for her phone whenever she needed to know the time, or felt the urge to check her messages, but not having her Iphone with her turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Who would want to stare at a screen and miss all the good stuff? 

     Ted’s strides are long and consistent, not a trace of fatigue noticeable with the bay gelding. From behind the group, Dean should have a good overview, if it wasn’t for the dust clouds obstructing his vision. The small particles cling to his skin, his lashes, the fabric of his clothes. He can still see the boys holding their ground well on the right, the steep slopes running up into the peaks of the Flatiron assisting them, working as a funnel. Benny and Macy are keeping a good pace; if they continue at this speed, they will be home before dinner. Y/N is doing outstanding on the other flank, forming a dream team with eager little Joplin. Thankfully, Dean has eyes up ahead, because the radio on his belt begins to crack.      “Two miles to go, Chief!”      Dean takes the radio phone and presses the PTT button before he answers.      “Let’s bring them home, brother.”

     With his thumb he twists the channel nob, switching to number four, before he calls in again. They should be within the perimeter now. “Bobby, do you read me?”      It’s quiet for a moment, but then the static breaks.      “Loud and clear, son.”      The head wrangler smiles, glad to be delivering good news after three days and nights filled with nerve wrecking moments. Treacherous terrain, suffocating heat. Drought, snakes, minor injuries.       “We’re comin’ in hot. Thirty minutes.”      “The gates are open. I’ll tell Ellen to put the casserole in the oven.”      Dean’s mouth begins to water when his aunt’s famous dish is mentioned. No disrespect to Benny, but after all that canned food, he can’t wait to sink his teeth into that delicious corn, beef, and onion stocked, stomach filling meal.      “In that case, I’ll make it twenty. Over.”      “We’re ready for ya. Over and out.”

     The head wrangler hooks the radio back on his belt and glances aside. Rocko is galloping about thirty yards to his left, ahead by a few nose lengths. Sweat shimmers on his neck and shoulders, his dark bay coat almost black now. With big, powerful strides he pushes forward like a steam train, yet agile, maneuvering past rocks, cacti, and bushes. Even untrained, he has grown into a strong horse. Dean can’t wait to work with him. To strengthen that bond even more, to teach him. Watching the stallion by his side and under Dean’s wing as it were, fills him with pride already. It’s at this moment that Dean realizes; this horse is going to be something else.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part sixteen here

[im-a-star-boy]

Kitten

Gift for @fandomsumthing, I hope this helps!!!

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

Summary: Peter finds a little black kitten in an alleyway and takes it home. Hilarity ensues.

Word Count: 1,548

Date Of Completion: Friday, Marth 13th, 2020

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

If he was being honest, he hadn’t planned to bring the small black and brown kitten home. But in his defense it was just so small, and cold, and lonely, and just… depressing. He couldn’t stand it. And that’s what led to Peter petting the small kitten in front of him as the small creature scarfed down the small can of wet food faster than Peter could clear out a buffet. And Peer could clear a buffet pretty fast. He ran a wide-toothed comb through the kittens long, tangled fur, undoing knots and carefully picking out burrs and other debris that got caught in it. The small thing mewled every time Peter accidentally tugged her away from the food, and Peter found it absolutely adorable. “I’m gonna have to give you a bath, you’ve got so much dirt in your fur.” He cooed softly.

The kitten looked up, licking its’ jaws, and mewled, as if to respond. Peter scooped her up carefully and brought her to the sink, running warm water. He was careful to make sure it was warm, but not too hot, and not too cold either. He plugged the sink and carefully set her down into the water. Immediately she meowed loudly in protest. Peter soaked her fur, listening to her loud mews and struggling to hold in a laugh. He poured some Dawn dish soap on his hand and ran his fingers through her fur, watching as the suds formed. He watched in amazement as the kitten’s brown patches disappeared to reveal lighter spots. The water was nearly brown by the time Peter had finished washing her. 

Her brown fur, now clean, revealed white tips on her paws and tail. He carefully pulled her out of the sink and set her on the counter, reaching into a nearby drawer and pulling out a rag. He drained the sink and scooped up the kitten gently with the rag, drying her off softly. “Poor baby, you were so dirty, all that gunk and mud in your fur, do you feel better?” He murmured as he ran the rag over her face lightly. 

She blinked rapidly and pulled her foot out to try and escape from his grip. Peter remained firm, careful to not hurt her. Once she was dry again, he began combing her fur again. The long strands of clean fur were incredibly soft and Peter could barely contain his happy squeal as the kitten looked up and mewled at him. He poured her a small glass of water, watching as she lapped at it thankfully. 

As he admired her, he heard the doorknob jiggle and the sound of bags shuffling. His heart dropped and he immediately scooped the kitten up with the bowl, hugging her to his chest to try and muffle her surprised mewl as he speed-walked to his room as he heard the door open. “Peter, I’m home!”

He closed the door softly and set the kitten down on the floor, closing the closet, and placing the bowl of water down, which the kitten quickly gravitated towards. “Oh- hey Harry! Just- give me a second! I’m changing!” He called as he quickly stripped off his suit.

He heard Harry chuckle as he pulled a t-shirt over his head and struggled to grasp jeans out from his drawers. He looked at the kitten and put his pointer finger to his lips. “Shhh,” He hushed, as he closed the closet again and crept out of the room, down the hall. 

“Hey, Harry.” 

Harry smiled at him and strode to him. “Hey, Peter. How was your day?”

Peter smiled as Harry wrapped his arms around him. “It was good, how was yours?” He asked as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek.

Harry groaned. “Running a business sucks. Especially trying to balance it with vigilantism and college.”

Peter nodded understandingly and leaned forward to press a kiss to Harry’s lips. He could practically feel Harry relax against him. After a few moments, Harry pulled away and brushed Peter’s hair out of his face, humming. “You need a haircut, bug.”

Peter swatted his hand away playfully. “My hair is fine, thank you very much.”

Harry chuckled, pressing another kiss to Peter’s temple. “I love you,”

Peter hummed. “I love you too.”

“I’m gonna put the groceries away, want to help?”

Peter nodded, walking towards the groceries with Harry when he heard a loud noise, a crashing sound. Both of them were immediately looking up, on guard. “What was that?” Harry asked.

Peter stared to the hallway as he realized it must’ve been the kitten. “I’ll go check it out,”

Harry nodded, looking tense. “I’m right behind you.”

Peter shook his head. “You worry about the groceries, I probably left the... candle… too close to the edge.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to light these apartments on fire?”

“I blew it out,”

“Okay,”

Peter made his way to the room quickly to find the kitten looking at him innocently on the dresser while a picture frame was knocked to the floor. “Oh you little shit,”

He picked up the kitten carefully, setting her down on the bed. “Stay here. These apartments don’t allow pets,”

She simply mewed as Peter pointed at her lightly, before turning away and exiting, closing the door behind him. He stepped out of the hallway, meeting Harry at the end of it. “Was it the candle?”

Peter nodded. “Yep, candle.”

“Do I need to get wax out of the carpet?”

“No, it solidified.”

“That’s good.”

Peter helped put the groceries up when he heard a loud meow. Harry looked up at the noise, but Peter just tried to ignore it. It repeated again when Harry looked at him. “Do you hear that?”

“Hm? Hear what?” He asked, barely restraining a grin and a laugh.

“Meowing… how do you not hear that?! It’s loud- is there a cat here?”

Peter felt his shoulders shake as he tried not to laugh. “No- I don’t hear a thing.” He lied.

Peter heard Harry begin to walk out of the kitchen. “Harry-”

Harry ignored him, and left with no other option, Peter tackled him. “No!”

“Peter!”

He scrambled to his feet, running to the bedroom. He could hear Harry rush after him, laughing. “Peter!”

He sprinted into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He picked up the startled kitten and held her to his chest. “PETER!”

“NO!”

There was an air of amusement, and much to Peter’s horror, he could hear Harry beginning to pick the lock. He scrambled to the closet and closed the door, scratching the back of the kitten’s head as he attempted to hold in his laughter. He heard the door fly open. “Oh Peeeeteerrrrrr~”

Peter covered his mouth, restraining a giggle. He felt the kitten squirm out of his grip and sit on the floor beside him. It was the kitten who, once again, sold him out, mewling happily. He heard the closet door open and immediately screamed as Harry dove down. “Gotcha!”

Peter shrieked as Harry began digging his fingers into his sides, tickling him mercilessly. “HARRY! HARRY I- STOP I CAN’T BREATHE!” He screamed through his laughter.

After what felt like hours of the ceaseless torture, but was probably just 30 seconds, Harry let up, sitting down at the entrance, chuckling lightly. Peter gasped for air, holding his sides as he laughed. “You are a bad person, Harry.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, when the kitten leaped onto Peter’s legs, before walking to Harry curiously. His mouth went slack as he gasped lightly as she bumped her head against his knee. “Oh my goooooooood…” He whispered.

“Can we keep her?”

Harry glanced up. “Peter, we’re barely here,”

“I’ll take care of her, I swear, please?” He begged.

Harry crossed his arms, thinking. “I don’t know, Peter. We gotta think about what’s good for her.”

“Harry, I found her dumped on the streets. I gave her food and a bath, please, I just wanna keep her. She’s so soft!”

Harry glanced up at him, before looking down at the kitten who had sat down in front of him, looking up at him with big blue eyes. “I-” Before he could finish, the kitten put her paw on Harry’s knee, mewling softly.

Harry’s gaze practically melted. “Oh my god…”

He was quiet for a few seconds, before sighing. “We’ll have to get a second kitten, Peter.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s just common knowledge, if you get one kitten, you have to get a second so when we’re not here, they can entertain themselves.”

Peter nodded. “Okay, we can find one at a shelter nearby.”

Harry smiled at the small kitten, who pulled herself onto his knee. “Aww,” He cooed softly as she mewed at him.

“It’s our first child, Harry.” Peter joked.

“Second, if you count Scat.”

Peter snickered. “So you finally accept her as your daughter too?”

Harry sighed slowly. “Yeah, I guess.”

Peter leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Thank.”

Harry chuckled softly. “We’ll head to the shelter this Saturday when I have a short day at work. We’ll have to cancel our date, though.”

“Who said we couldn’t make a date out of getting a kitten?”

“Good point.”

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (13)

There’s a lot of adults outside the compound.

There’s Ino’s dad, who’s fussing over her a lot, and Chouji’s dad, who waves at her, and a guy with spiky hair and a white chevron on his nose who leaps down from the roofs with Kiba, Akamaru and Sakura under his arms, placing them down before leaping away again.

Bigger Shikamaru then makes a face and pulls the hand on her back away to reveal spots of blood. “What happened here?”

“A trap got set off.” She says. “It was gonna hurt Chouji, so me and Ino got in the way.”

Bigger Shikamaru glances at her suspiciously. “Right. And how did this trap get set off?”

She decides discretion is the better part of valor and shrugs, wincing at the movement. “Lots of tripwires. Hard to tell.”

Bigger Shikamaru gives a slow nod, like he doesn’t quite believe her. “Uh huh. And why were there so many tripwires?”

“Because Uchiha’s scared.” She says, looking the man dead in the eye. “He’s really, really scared of that man coming back to finish the job. And he has no one to look after him, so he’s trying to protect himself. And us. By fighting us to make us stronger, or something. He didn’t explain it well.”

Bigger Shikamaru appears inscrutable during her tirade, but he looks away when she keeps staring pointedly at him, with another muttered “Troublesome.”

The click of a camera shutter has her looking over to see Lee taking pictures of the spiky haired guy and another guy with floppy hair, who are posing dramatically for photos. Kiba’s attempting to photobomb them with little success as Shikamaru watches.

“Right.” Bigger Shikamaru hitches her higher on his hip, raising his voice. “Chouza, can you get the rest of them home? Inoichi and I need to get these two to the hospital.”

Lee insists on coming along with them.

Once they realize what’s going on, Sakura and Chouji beg to come along too. It sort of snowballs from there, so they end up with a gaggle of children and Ino, Shikamaru, and Chouji’s dads causing a bit of a stir when they all enter the hospital’s reception area.

She sees the same nice doctor from when she bit her lip last time, with the blond hair and pink eyes.

The nurse is nowhere to be seen.

She tells the nice doctor she didn’t bite her lip at all, even when it really hurt, while he’s doing something with the green glow to her shoulders that makes them stop hurting.

He pats her head and gives her a lollipop, and then gives extra ones to Kiba, Hinata, Shino, and Sakura with a wink and vague compliments to the mysterious medical experts for their good work.

Kiba doesn’t stop grinning for the rest of the afternoon, Shino’s insects buzz gently which she thinks means he’s happy, and even Hinata seems quietly pleased.

Chouji’s dad walks her, Lee and Sakura home after they get the confirmation that Ino’s going to be fine, while Shikamaru’s dad takes Hinata, Kiba, Shino, and Uchiha.

Sakura’s quiet and subdued the whole way home, lollipop in her cheek, rubbing her fingers together every so often. She gives a weak little “bye” when they drop her off at her house.

Okaa-san looks particularly harried when she opens the door and takes note of the newly-healed marks on her back and the state of her blood-stained and dusty dress.

Her mother sends her upstairs to have a wash and get changed while Chouji’s dad has a talk with her and Otou-san.

By the time she comes back down, Chouji’s dad has gone home and her parents are sitting around the dinner table as Lee shows them his photos.

“Mayu-chan.” Otou-san says, holding up a picture of her and Ino crouched over Chouji with silver streaks soaring past them like deadly shooting stars. “Not that we aren’t proud of you for looking after your friends, but could you work a little harder to avoid getting hurt too please?”

“I’ll try, Otou-san.” She choruses guiltily.

It seems like what happened has become the talk of the village by dinner time.

Though she could be biased because that happens to be the time Gai-sensei bursts in, babbling on about explosions and grievous wounds and youth and her being sick on Anko’s shoes.

This earns her another week-long cooking ban, on the grounds that it might be a bug and not evil chakra that made her throw up.

Even Iruka-sensei brings it up at Ichiraku’s the following night.

“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday.” He says politely while they’re waiting for their noodles. He seems a bit more at ease now Naruto and Lee aren’t there.

“Yeah.” She sighs, tracing the woodgrain with her finger. “It’s just—ugh.”

Iruka-sensei is nice, so he doesn’t chuckle at her little exclamation of disgust and waits for her to explain herself.

“It’s just—” She throws her hands up at not knowing what it “just” is and decides to start over from what she does know. “Uchiha is not a bad person. He’s dumb and awkward and— whatever, but he’s not bad. He’s just scared. And alone. And everyone thinks he knows what he’s doing because the teacher keeps saying he’s a prodigy and that he’s the best at everything—but he has no shi–blooming clue.”

Iruka-sensei nods seriously, brows furrowing, so she continues. “But he doesn’t know that he doesn’t—or he thinks that since everyone’s calling him a prodigy that he’s supposed to. So when he got scared about the man who murdered his clan coming back because of the thieves, he tried to protect himself with the wires and traps, because there’s no adults who’ll defend him. And then he tried to have everyone over to defend us too, because he’s not a bad person, he’s just kinda dumb and paranoid, y’know?”

“I...think I do know, yes.” Iruka-sensei says slowly, like he’s realizing something.

“Yeah—and before me and Naruto went over and cleaned his kitchen, his kitchen was a tip, because he had no idea what to do with all this food people were giving him!” She turns to Teuchi-sama. “I mean, he was just eating white rice and uncooked tomatoes everyday! It was like when I met Naruto, except he had all this food when Naruto had nothing, but he didn’t know what to do with it, so it was all rotting and going to waste!”

Teuchi-sama winces.

“That must’ve stunk something awful!” Ayame-sama chirps.

“Sanji as my witness it did.” She groans, covering her face while Otou-san carefully pats her back.

“Nobody was feeding Naruto?” Iruka-sensei interrupts, brows drawn down.

“Not from what we could see.” Okaa-san replies, daintily sipping at her water. “He’d be chased out of the market. I think Ichiraku’s was the only place he could get a square meal, until Mayu-chan started feeding him.”

Teuchi-sama nods. “He was our favorite customer. Still is, in fact.”

“Mayu with her little lunchboxes.” Otou-sama smiles nostalgically. “Up at the crack of dawn, carrying around those sheets of paper with what he liked and didn’t like on them.”

She squirms, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t know him then.” She complains. “But he was hungry. I couldn’t leave him hungry.”

Teuchi-sama nods approvingly as he slides a bowl of miso ramen in front of her.

Iruka-sensei is quiet while he eats.

“What did you tell him.” Uchiha growls at lunch on Monday.

She blinks in confusion, about to bite into her onigiri. “What did I tell who?”

Uchiha looks pained, his grilled sandwich leaking tomato juice and pesto in his grip.

“The Hokage,” He grits out. “Has determined that I am not suited to living on my own because of something one of you said. So I now have this chunin living in my house and leaving his stupid porn everywhere.”

She winces. “But I haven’t seen the Hokage all weekend. He was with Naruto, and Naruto wasn’t with us.”

“We did hear the explosion.” Naruto pipes up unhelpfully. “It really freaked his mask guys out—we thought the village was under attack or something when we heard it, believe it!”

Sasuke glares at them all, taking a mutinous bite of his sandwich.

“Mayu.” Shikamaru says. “Do you know what my dad does?”

She frowns as she swallows and takes another bite. “Tactician?”

Shikamaru’s smile is slow and spiteful. “He’s the Jounin Squad Leader of Konoha. Second only to the Hokage himself.”

She stops chewing.

Oh. Oh.

Whoops.

Uchiha looks between the two of them, growing redder and redder with each passing second.

“TRAITORS!!!” He howls finally, and flings himself across the table at Shikamaru.

They all get detention again.

She’s really not sure how long the teacher expects to keep justifying things with “you’re friends and supposed to control each other” when he’s the authority figure here.

Though maybe her telling him this wasn’t the best idea.

“Well, you weren’t wrong.” Chouji says loyally.

“Thank you Chouji.” She replies.

“Still a dumb thing to say.” Naruto adds.

She places her hand over his mouth. “Sssh.”

He licks it again.

While they’re wrestling, she hears Sakura ask Uchiha, “Are you gonna be okay, Sasuke-kun?”

Uchiha snorts. “I’ll be fine. I just have to convince the Hokage that I’m strong enough to live on my own. And to do that, I need to get rid of the trespasser in my home.”

“...How are you gonna do that?” Ino asks, sounding a lot more wary than she has in previous Uchiha conversations.

He grunts in a way that conveys indecision, or maybe constipation.

“What if you pranked him?” Naruto suggests from where she’s almost managed to force her spit-contaminated arm to touch his cheek. “I know some pretty good ones that the jerks in the market never saw coming!”

Uchiha pauses.

His lips curl into a slow, cruel smirk.

She’s not privy to all the details, because Naruto is sworn to solemn secrecy by the prankster’s code.

What she does know is that the chunin who leaves his porn everywhere is subjected to potent itching powder in every fabric item he attempts to use, and somehow becomes convinced that the ghosts of the Uchiha clan would curse his family with pimply skin for every generation thereafter if he did not vacate the premises immediately.

Sasuke’s victorious mood is dampened when the Hokage apparently sends a new chunin to live with him the very next day.

This chunin apparently has a bad habit of talking down to children, no matter whether they’re the last remnants of their clan or not, and abusing his new position to bring home “friends”.

Uchiha takes this as a declaration of war.

He ends up mobbed by every cat from here to Kusagakure thanks to a potent mixture of valerian, catnip, and a secret ingredient that Uchiha refuses to divulge which was mixed into his shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in small enough increments to be unnoticeable until it was too late.

The Hokage sends a jounin.

Kiba ends up recruited to the cause.

The jounin somehow ends up ingesting enough laxatives to put a small monkey out of commission, and then has his all-black ensemble and glasses forcibly dyed many colors thanks to the liberal application of industrial-strength paint.

The Hokage sends Anko.

The ensuing carnage results in the statue of the Niidaime losing its nose and has Uchiha lying low for three weeks, alternating between hiding in her and Sakura’s houses and Naruto’s apartment.

A few days before their finals, Uchiha comes in looking oddly...defeated.

“The Hokage and the Council say that unless I accept the next caretaker they provide for me, I’m going to go into the Orphanage and the Uchiha lands will be forfeit.”

Hinata covers her mouth with her hands. Ino and Kiba sit there, silent and slack-jawed. Chouji pushes away his food and Shikamaru actually sits up. Shino’s insects stop buzzing altogether.

“They can’t do that, can they?” Naruto says, looking around for confirmation. “I mean, that’s your home, right? It’s yours.”

“But Sasuke-kun’s technically a ward of state and has to do what they say.” Sakura says slowly. “Until he becomes a genin or comes of age as a civilian.”

“And that’s eighteen or something, right?” She adds with a heavy heart.

Uchiha puts his head down on the table.

“Hey, that’s rough man.” Kiba says, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Akamaru strides down the table and settles himself next to Uchiha’s head, gently licking his cheek until the boy turns and buries his hand in the puppy’s soft fur.

“Did they say who it’ll be?” She asks gently, pushing her BLT over to him.

He shakes his head slowly, lifting the sandwich and taking a bite. “The Hokage only said they’ll be there to greet me after school.”

“Well, whoever they are, they can’t be worse than Anko, right?” Ino says, trying to be upbeat.

Everybody at the table shudders.

They stand with him in solidarity at the end of the Academy day.

The other parents and children look at them strangely, a group of clan kids and a few civilians bunched together around the last Uchiha like a protective barrier, but no one comes forward to try and take him.

It isn’t until the last of them are leaving that someone arrives.

Iruka-sensei comes out of the Academy building, carrying a suitcase.

“Ah, Ketsugi-chan, Lee-kun, Uzumaki-kun!” He says, smiling brightly. “How are you doing?”

“We are well, thank you Iruka-sensei!” Lee says. “We are waiting with Uchiha-kun for his new guardian!”

Iruka-sensei’s eyes soften and he kneels down. “So you’re Sasuke-kun, huh? My name is Umino Iruka. It’s nice to meet you.”

Uchiha averts his eyes and stares stubbornly at the floor.

“I don’t want you in my house.” He says. “But the Hokage says if I don’t I have to go to the Orphanage.”

Iruka-sensei winces. “I heard about that. Do you want me to stay in one of the branch houses then? I just cancelled my apartment contract with my landlord, but I’m sure if I begged hard enough, she’d let me stay there for longer until we sort out what you’re comfortable with.”

Uchiha peers at him suspiciously. “...Okay. Do that.”

Suddenly Iruka-sensei’s stomach gurgles.

He blushes. “Ah, do you mind if we get some food first? There’s a pretty good ramen place I know.”

“Ichiraku’s?” Naruto bursts in eagerly.

“We’re not feeding you.” Uchiha says dismissively, ignoring Naruto’s cry of betrayal.

He begins to stride off down the path, only to turn when the teacher doesn’t follow. “Well? It’s annoying if you’re hungry.”

Iruka-sensei’s mouth quirks into a smile.

Somehow, she thinks as the teacher and boy disappear down the path, discussing one of the pranks that befell his hapless predecessor, this might turn out alright.

It’ll certainly be better than Anko.

[ourneverendingpossibilities]

You make my heart go crazy

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Kasamatsu Yukio x reader Rating: K+ A/N: Because I’m a hopeless sap for him, I updated twice in one day... I’m such a sucker for Kasamatsu. In which you meet up with him for the first time alone, and you try to figure out why your heart won’t stop beating like crazy around him,

_____________________________

School could not end fast enough. 

You've learned over the past few days that Kasamatsu isn't much of a talker over text. It makes things easier for you because you prefer talking over the phone or in person. Things can always be misconceived through the wonders of texting, and you tend to panic during certain situations.

The clock continues to tick slowly, leaving you restless.

Your eyes are on the court, watching the team practice inside the gym. But your mind wasn't in it. Every sound echoed through your skull, as if muffled by your headphones. Rather than sit on the bench, half-dazed in your thoughts, you choose to run laps outside. You want to remain in shape, should volleyball ever become an option in the future. While basketball was fun, and you found yourself excited, Volleyball was always your favourite sport. It's a shame Seirin didn't have a girl's team. That still didn't make your choice waver, as you wanted to start fresh, at a new school as far away from your brother as possible.

________________

"I made my choice, Ryouta."

The blonde blinks, pausing his packing and turns his head to you. There was something in your tone, screaming for his attention. He almost finds himself breathless at your serious expression.

"I'm going to Seirin."

It's then his eyes grow dark, cold, and it catches you by surprise, but you remain firm. You will not waver. You will be strong... Against the one sibling who has always supported your decisions.

"Y...You can't be serious ____-cchi!" he cries, standing up straight to look down at you, "Why would you want to attend a school that has no status! Everyone in our family has attended Kaijou!"

You shake your head, "I'm serious, Ryouta. Mom and dad are fine with my choice." you pause, eyes hardening, "We have different futures and we can't follow each other forever."

He finds himself out of breath, and Kise tries his best to understand.. But he thought you would attend Kaijou because they have a volleyball team... You've always expressed interest in it, doing well at Teiko… So why would you leave your legacy behind to attend a school that offers nothing?

"I don't expect you to understand." you continue, startling him from his thoughts, "I love volleyball, but I'm taking a year off. I want to explore my options."

He shakes his head, golden hues glistening with unshed tears, "You're right.. I don't understand..." he begins, feeling his fists quivering with emotions. "Why would you leave everything behind to start at an unknown school? A place that offers nothing?"

You smile sadly, reaching out to grab one of his hands, gently rubbing the skin, "We're different people, Ryouta…" you whisper, feeling a tear slip, "I know we've done everything together... But I want to be at a place where I can be free... Not bound by expectations and perfection."

You don't meet his gaze, feeling his stare burn into your mind. 

"Some day, you'll find a team that cherishes you for you... Not just your skills..." you murmur, letting go of his hand and taking a step back. "And when that day happens, you'll be happy we didn't attend the same school... So... Until then, we're going to be enemies."

You leave his room then, unaware of the tears spilling from his golden hues, and the way his eyes glower with a hidden emotion...

"One day..." he whispers, feeling his fist shake, "I'll make you proud to be my twin, ____-cchi… And I'll bring you to Kaijou with me... Some day..."

___________________

You stop running then, head tilted towards the sky as you feel a few drops of water pelt your skin... Figures, on a day you're thinking about meeting your new friend, it has to rain right? You sigh softly, jogging back to the gym, grabbing a towel from Riko when she offers it.

"Say, ____-chan..." 

You hum, looking at her curiously.

"Why did you choose Seirin instead of Kaijou?"

You're stunned by her question, unsure of an appropriate response... You watch Kuroko and Kagami leave the gym, bickering and arguing over Nigou before looking at the coach once more.

"I like having options, Riko-senpai." you begin, a soft smile on your lips. "I don't like being smothered with one option, and fearing the unknown."

She raises an eyebrow at your words, but before she can ask further, you gather your things and politely bow, before explaining you're in a hurry to leave. You didn't want any of them knowing you were to meet with Kaijou's captain. It wasn't their concern, but you wanted things to be under wraps for the time being. Until you could figure out what Kasamatsu meant to you. 

He's one of a kind.

In your haste, you run past the gate, preparing to catch the train to Kanagawa, almost missing the raven-haired male walking towards you. You almost miss him, had he not been wearing Kaijou's jacket, the blue vibrant enough to catch your attention. You pause, eyes wide and lips parting, before you smile.

"K....Kasamatsu-senpai!"

You stop your movements, allowing him to meet you half away, a soft scowl on his lips. The rain adds to his demeanour, and you find yourself left scrambling for words. He extends his arm, the umbrella above his head now shielding you from the impeding rain.

"OI... Why aren't you using an umbrella, brat? Do you want to get sick?"

You shrug, before pumping your fist into the air, "Believe it or not senpai, but I have a tough immune system! A little rain's not gonna get me sick!"

He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue before shrugging. "As long as I'm here, you're not going to cause trouble, got that?"

You salute to him, face serious and vibrant, "Yes sir!"

He tries hard not to laugh, instead letting out a quiet grunt as you begin to walk away from Seirin. The silence between the two of you is comfortable, occupied by the rain above your heads. There's a little tension, but not enough to make you uncomfortable, and you find yourself lost in thoughts again... At least until it dawns on you..."

"W...Why'd you come to Seirin, Kasamatsu-senpai?"

He blinks, looking at you for a brief moment before his eyes are back towards the streets, "I... I figured it'd be best to meet you here... It would be rude of me to expect you to come by train alone to Kanagawa..." he pauses, as if contemplating his next words... "U...Unless that makes you uncomfortable..."

"....N...No!" you blurt out, startling the both of you. You rest a hand on your mouth, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks before looking away, trying to calm your racing heart,. "I...I mean..." you stutter, trying to process the words in your mind, "I... I find it sweet... T...Thank you senpai..."

He feels his face growing hot, trying not to internally panic.. He's never been good with girls... But he finds that being around you... It's somewhat calming... Almost as if he can relax and be himself... He sighs softly, gently patting your head, secretly hoping you don't notice the shaking in his hands..

"Y....You don't have to thank me... I...idiot..." he mumbles, finding his eyes look at you when you laugh. He sighs, trying to regain composure. It's then he notices the small café up ahead, and finds himself walking in that direction.

"L...Let's go in here..."

You smile, following behind him, almost brushing against his hand in an attempt to catch up. The electricity between you two was visible, and although Kasamatsu tried to hide it, you caught his reaction. You find yourself a table in the corner of the café, adjacent to the window. The rain cleans up the streets well, and you're left with a peaceful view. The few people left outside quickly run for cover, while you find yourself getting warm and comfortable. A mug of hot chocolate rests in front of you, and you find yourself staring up at Kasamatsu, watching him take the seat across from you. 

"Y...You didn't have to pay, senpai..."

He shrugs, taking off his jacket and resting it against the chair, "It's not a big deal _____..." he begins, a mug resting against his palm. "It's the least I can do..."

You raise an eyebrow, before giggling at his posture, hiding your smile behind the mug. "If you say so..." you whisper, feeling his gaze burn into yours. You take time to soak in your surroundings, noticing very few people were in the café... Probably because they were already at home with their families.. You blink, quickly taking your phone out and sending your mom a text, so she doesn't worry. You notice one from Kise, but choose to not look at it yet... You didn't want him bugging you while you were getting to know his captain.

"So... senpai..." you begin, placing your phone away and resting your chin on your hands, "Tell me about yourself.. All I know so far is you're Kaijou's captain, and you play guitar..."

He finds himself frowning, staring down at the cup in his hands before hesitantly meeting your gaze. The curiosity was there, and as much as he should feel flattered for the attention, he finds himself stumped.. 

"W...Well..." he begins, mentally cursing at his stutter. "I... I plan on attending university when I graduate..."

Your eyes light up, finding yourself intrigued. 

"You must like school... Don't you Kasamatsu-senpai?"

He shrugs, "I mean.. We all have to learn right?" 

You hum, hues sparkling, "What's your favourite subject?"

"Math."

Your hands smack against the table, startling him as he meets your golden hues, "NO way! I love math!! Though I do enjoy English and History! You're always learning something new! It's rarely boring in my class!"

His blue hues watch you with a renewed interest, and he finds himself smiling softly. "Is that so? I wish most kouhais had the same mentality as you."

You blink, feeling yourself blush at his compliment, before looking away... "W..Well… You're not gonna meet many people like me..." you mutter, looking back at him "I'm one of a kind!"

He finds himself chuckling, though shakes his head, "You're definitely something else, _____-chan."

The sudden suffix makes both of you pause, staring at each other in shock. Blushes erupt on both your cheeks before you look away from him, hearing him cough into his fist. Oh man... why can't your heart stop thudding in your chest already? You rest your face in your hands, though the silence has you curious... You peek from your fingers, watching as Kasamatsu rubs the back of his head, trying to find the words to say... You lift your head, watching him act like a child being caught stealing a cookie from the jar, and that is the most adorable thing you've seen.

You laugh then, feeling his stare on you, confusion and slight irritation evident. 

"I can say the same thing about you, senpai..."

You rest your cheek in your hand again, giving him a lop-sided grin, "You're definitely something else..."

He tries to open his mouth, but finds himself sighing instead, shaking his head. "Something tells me I'm gonna regret asking this..." he begins, before meeting your eyes once more, "Would you like to meet up again next week? We have a day off on Tuesday from practice."

He finds himself breathless when you grin at him happily, eagerly nodding your head at his question. "I...I'd be more than happy to accompany senpai!"

His heart races once more, before he smiles softly, oddly feeling at peace.

"I'm glad to hear it... I'll pick you up from Seirin… If that's fine with you."

You roll your eyes, finding yourself smiling at his words. Of course he'd say something like that.

"You don't have to ask senpai... Of course you can..."

Those words are all he needs to hear, and Kasamatsu finds himself grinning despite feeling nervous. To know you enjoy spending time with him enough to accompany him a second time is enough.. And he hopes to learn more about you, and why he always feels at peace with you.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Bucky’s Little Ducklings

Dance Teacher!Bucky Barnes X Reader He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, this was Bucky’s fight, and Bucky’s fight alone.  But damnit, Sam couldn’t sit by and watch him crash and burn.

a/n:i’ve been writing this fic for the last 3 months, and i finally managed to finish it, yay me song that bucky was singing

Little kids roamed around the large and open room, some running over to their parents when they felt too nervous to be by themselves.  Y/N was standing with her little sister, Ella.  She’d been the one to suggest taking dancing classes, and one of Y/N’s good friends taught ballet at the studio.  They tried it out for a few weeks, ultimately deciding it wasn’t for her.  It was how they’d ended up in the class they were currently standing in, waiting for the teacher to arrive.

It was nearing the beginning of the class when he finally walked in, grey sweatpants clung to thick thighs, long brown hair pulled back into a low bun.  He was walking perfection, and Y/N was having a hard time focusing on anything other than him.  The other women suddenly noticed him too, some winking towards him, while others giggled amongst themselves.

Y/N gently nudged Ella towards the other kids, letting her know that she’d still be here once the class was over.  Gladly watching the gorgeous man who’d just come inside.  This was unlike her, no man had ever caught her attention so fast before.  Well, except for one man.

“Don’t leave, okay?” Ella glanced up at her sister, eyes pleading.

“I’m not going anywhere bug, I’ll be waiting right here after class is over.” She smoothed down her hair once more, smiling softly to assure her sisters nerves.

There were so many kids, some taller than others, some small as a toddler.  It was amazing how they all seem entranced with the teacher before he’d even started talking.

“Hello class, I see we have some new faces here, but don’t worry I won’t pull you up here and make you introduce yourselves.  I’m your dance teacher, Bucky, and this is the little ducklings class for everyone whose new.” The name suited him, maybe it was short for something.

Bucky spent time going over the first number, making sure to go slow enough that everyone understood what to do.  It was breathtaking to watch, even if he was teaching them the simplest of dances, he took his time to make sure no one was left out.

Y/N watched him, smiling fondly when she noticed Ella standing up towards the front so she could see him better.  It’d been so long since she’d seen her happy, smiling even, and this was enough to bring tears to her eyes.

“That’s it for today, guys, I’ll see you all next monday for our next class.” Y/N could barely register before Ella was running over, arms wrapping around her legs.

“Thank you!  I knew you’d stay and wait.” Y/N reached down, patting her shoulders gently.

“I promised you I’d stay, now why don’t we head on out so we can get some dinner, I bet you worked up quite an appetite.” Ella jumped up and down excitedly, holding onto Y/N’s hand as she led them out to where she’d parked their truck.

It went that way for months, Y/N taking Ella to her dance classes every monday at seven on the dot, making sure they were never late.  It was the only day of the week neither of them had to worry about anything.  Of course, that didn’t mean Y/N’s crush on Ella’s dance instructor didn’t get worse, oh no, it got much worse.  She could barely look at the man without blushing like a schoolgirl, wondering how often he dealt with this.  She wanted to confide in her friend Nat, but she always had a ballet class during Bucky’s, so she was stuck dealing with this problem alone.

“You did a great job today Ella, I think you should stand at the front for every class.” Bucky was practically praising Ella, her face beaming with joy.

“Can I Mr Bucky?  Pretty please?” Ella was laying it on thick, always using her charm when needed most.

“Of course, you can help everyone else with the new dance we’re doing next week.” Bucky knelt down, ruffling her hair slightly.

Her giggle echoed in the nearly empty room, most of the mothers didn’t bother to stay very long after word had gotten out that Bucky had a child of his own.  How rude could some people be?  He was merely trying to make a life for himself, and his son, and they were ready to tear it all down.

“Don’t tell anyone, but my sister has a crush on you.” Ella had tried to subtly whisper to Bucky, only for the words to echo back over to Y/N. 

“Oh?  She does?” Bucky glanced over, smiling as Y/N struggled to hide her blush from the world.

There was no malice behind his smile, nothing but the pure heart and soul of the man who’d taught her sister how to dance.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be free this thursday, at say, seven?” Bucky looked nervous, arms crossed over his chest.

“I am actually, Ella’s going to see our grandparents, so I’ll be at home until sunday.” She tried to make it seem nonchalant, as if this happened all the time.

“Would you like to get dinner with me?  There’s an amazing Italian place downtown, I’d love to take you.” The world seemed to be spinning, this man was asking Y/N out on a date?  After she’d been pining for months?

All she could do was nod, a high flush on her cheeks as Bucky smiled.

“Great, here’s my number, just text me your address and I’ll see you thursday.” Bucky handed over a business card, his personal number was written on the back.

The date could not come soon enough, that Y/N knew for sure.

Thursday Night What was she going to wear?  Bucky would be here in less than fifteen minutes, and she still wasn’t dressed!

“God, he’s gonna think I’m such a weirdo for overthinking this, it’s not even that serious.” Huffing softly, she pulled on a light cream colored dress, ignoring the memories she had with it.

As long as Bucky liked how she looked in the dress, that was all that was going to matter at that moment.

He arrived at 8:05, smoothing back his hair as best he could, holding a bouquet of roses in his left hand.  She’d always been curious about his metal arm, but refused to bring it up, lest it was a touchy subject for the man.  She put the roses in a vase, before heading down to where Bucky had parked along the street.  

The truck almost intimidated her, reminding her of a night she’d tried so hard to push passed for so many years.  Bucky was a gentlemen the entire ride down, talking about the other classes he’d picked up, even asking Y/N how Ella was doing.  It warmed her heart that Bucky seemed so interested in their lives, as if he didn’t have a full plate as well

Bucky had been right, the food was amazing, taste almost as good as if they were in Italy themselves.

“I don’t mean to pry, and you have every right to not tell me anything, but, what happened to your arm?” Bucky tensed for a few moments, fear racing through Y/N’s veins as she suddenly regretted her decision to ask.

He sipped his water, taking a second to compose himself.

“I was in the army, we were driving down when our Humvee was hit, if it wasn’t for my best friend I don’t believe I'd made it out alive.” Bucky’s eyes darkened for a moment, left hand clenching into a tight fist.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t of asked, it’s something personal.” Y/N looked down at the table, pushing the remaining noodles around on her plate.

“Don’t be, most people aren’t as nice about it as you were.” Bucky reached over slowly, resting his metal fingers atop of hers.

The mood at the table shifted, she’d wanted to know more about him, everything that he was willing to tell her.

“Your sister reminds me a lot of my son actually.” That seemed to bring her back down to earth, remind her of where they were.

“Why’s that?” She’d only ever heard about Bucky’s son, no one had seen him around.

“He’s spunky, pretty hyper too, guess I see where he gets it from.” Bucky chuckled softly, finishing off his water.

“How old is he?” It dawned on Y/N then, it didn’t seem like Bucky talked about his son too often, especially not with strangers.

“He’ll be five next month.” Bucky glanced over to Y/N, an unreadable expression on his face.

Was he afraid he’d scare her off?  Like so many dates before her?  Unable to deal with the thought of Bucky already being a parent?

“That’s how old Ella was when I became her guardian.” The painful reminder shot through her like a bullet to the stomach, burning her from the inside out.

“It was an accident, right?” Bucky couldn’t meet her gaze, eyes locked on the plate that sat before him.

“Yes, we were all driving home from the movies, when a truck t-boned us.  My parents were killed on impact, but Ella and I made it out with only a few bumps and bruises.” Y/N could feel the tears well up, silently telling herself to get it together.

Bucky reached over, placing his hand overtop her own that was closest to his.  When was the last time someone had consoled her?  The funeral?  When it became reality that their parents were gone, that she would be raising her little sister.

“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve dealt with for so long, have you not been able to talk about this?” Bucky’s brow furrowed, eyes full of worry as he looked over at Y/N.

“It’s been too hard to talk about, and I didn’t want to worry Ella with what happened, she’s just a kid.” Y/N shook her head, sighing softly under her breath.

Bucky’s hand tightened ever so slightly around her fingers, a frown pulling down his lips as he looked down at her.

“Do you have anyone to help out, when things get rough?” Bucky was more worried now, how had she managed to do this all alone?

“Yeah, my good friend Natasha helps us out whenever we need it.” It wasn’t a lie.  Natasha did whatever she could to help, even if Y/N hated asking for it.

Bucky’s expression remained neutral, but there was something about it that caught Y/N off guard.  Sure, they worked in the same dance facility together, but did they know one another beyond that?

“I used to have someone like that, though I don’t actually speak to him much anymore.” Bucky smiled bitterly, glancing up as the waitress came over.

The table fell silent as the waitress walked to the kitchen with their orders, what would they even talk about after dropping bombs like they’d done?

“Who was the friend you lost?” It was a loaded question, maybe even worse than asking about his son, but Y/N was too curious.

“His name was Steve, we were best friends since childhood, but he had a different idea picked out than heading out into the army.  He ended up moving in with his girlfriend, and she was great, helped keep him out of trouble,” Bucky laughed softly, running a hand over his jaw.

“But they ended up moving to England where she was from, I can’t remember the last time I even spoke to him.” It was obvious how much Bucky was affected by it, how torn up he felt over losing his best friend.

Y/N squeezed his hand, a small smile on her face as she looked at the man who helped her sister break out of her shell.

“He’s the one missing out Buck, you’ve been through so much and you’re still here today helping kids grow and learn.” Bucky’s cheeks tinged pink, a shy smile on his face.

A phone going off grabbed both of their attentions, distracting them for a brief moment before Bucky realized it was his phone going off.

“My friend Sam asked if we wanted to head over to the bar he’s at after dinner, guess they’re doing karaoke.” It didn’t sound like a bad idea, could help Bucky feel better even. 

“Sure, sounds like fun.” Y/N kept a brave face, trying to hide the nerves that were swarming throughout her body.

Dinner passed without any incident, the two of them enjoying their meals respectively until Bucky took the bill from the waitress.  He’d insisted on paying, saying he could easily afford it and that Y/N didn’t need to worry.

She slipped a couple twenty’s for a tip, heading out to Bucky’s truck to go and see what his friend was currently up to.  The drive was silent, encompassing them as Bucky drove to the bar Sam had mentioned they were at.

The parking lot was nearly full, leaving few spaces open for Bucky to try and park.  He didn’t want to risk hitting any of the other cars, nor risk someone hitting his truck.  There was a space down by a motorcycle, big enough to fit the truck, with enough space that he wouldn’t hit the bike.

After parking successfully, Bucky stepped out from the truck and ran around to the passengers side, helping Y/N out.  The night seemed to be heading in a more positive direction, Bucky could see Sam standing outside as he waited for them.

“Bout time!  We were starting to think you weren’t gonna come.” Sam smirked at the other man, gaze landing on Y/N as she stepped up.

“I was out to dinner, thank you very much.” Bucky proudly wrapped his arm around Y/N, glancing down at her nervously.

Sam looked stunned for a few seconds, before composing and introducing himself.  Bucky could faintly see someone farther off, a person he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager.  

“Steve came too, said he was in town and wanted to catch up with everyone.” Bucky tightened his jaw, struggling to cool his emotions that seemed intent on getting the better of him.

“Of course, the more the merrier.” Y/N glanced up to Bucky, his smile seemed so forced and angry.

The silence seemed to stretch on between the two friends, before Sam turned and lead them inside the karaoke bar.  Tension suddenly flooded Bucky like a wave crashing into his body harshly.  Steve looked so different.  Sure, they hadn’t seen one another in a while, but Steve didn’t even look like himself.  He’d grown a beard, god his arms were nearly as big as Bucky’s alone, and he spent his time in the gym when he wasn’t teaching the little ones dances.

“Bucky!  It’s so good to see you.” Steve pulled him into a hug happily, either ignorant to the anger that was flowing from the brunette, or completely unaware of it.

“You too.” Bucky stiffly hugged Steve back, patting him on the shoulder as Steve stepped back to get a proper look at him.

Y/N could suddenly see why Bucky was so angry, they clearly hadn’t ended on such positive terms, ones she wasn’t sure she’d want to hear the story behind.  Bucky had always been more of a private person, and it was obvious as to why.

“C’mon, Nat’s already got drinks waiting at the table, let’s go!” Clint was clapping excitedly, waiting for the fun to really begin.

What could possibly go wrong? Y/N laughed, watching as both Clint, and Sam butchered what they claimed to be Bohemian Rhapsody.  Bucky threw his head back, struggling to take in any air as tears streaked down his cheeks.

“You do realize you’re up next, right?” Natasha smirked over at her friend, the brunette immediately straightened his posture.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I got something special planned.” Bucky winked, standing up when Clint, and Sam stepped off the stage.

Bucky didn’t even so much as look nervous as he took the microphone, waiting as they set up the next song.  The moment the beat began to play, Y/N’s eyes widened, jaw dropping open in clear, and utter shock.  And that wasn’t the part that floored her, it was that Bucky’s singing was phenomenal.  No one could take their eyes off him, even as he danced, winking at Y/N during the chorus.

It was no secret the man could dance better than anyone in the room, but the fact that he had a voice to back it up.  Well it was downright unfair.  He swung his hips better than most women could, but it seemed so familiar to Y/N, so why couldn’t she place that dance?

Her heart seemed to suddenly stop in her chest, of course she recognized that dancing.

When the song ended, Bucky set the mic down so it wouldn’t accidentally fall onto the ground.  Sam jumped from his seat, clapping like a mad man.

“That was insane!  I had no idea you could sing like that?!” Sam looked between Y/N, and Bucky, eyes wide with shock.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Sammy boy.” Bucky chuckled, plopping down beside Y/N as he pulled her close.

Steve glanced at how Bucky’s hand rested against Y/N’s shoulder, his metal hand carding lightly against her skin.  Bucky carefully glanced over to Steve, lips pulling into a scowl as he glared over at Steve.  He didn’t get to just come back into Bucky’s life as if he didn’t drop their friendship for a woman that would drop him the moment she found someone better.

“Who’s next?” Clint looked around at their friends, gaze landing on Natasha who had chosen to sit back and watch everyone else.

“Nope, you know I’m not doing it.” She crossed her arms, as if daring him to argue.

“Please?  For me?” Clint was practically pleading, begging.

“Nope, Y/N’s gonna sing next.” Natasha smirked triumphantly, glancing over to Y/N who’d gone pale.

There was no fighting with Natasha though, if she said you were going to do something, you had no other choice but to do whatever it was.  

With a long sigh, Y/N headed up to the stage, picking out her song without much of a second thought.  It was going to be dedicated to Bucky, only he wouldn’t know it, at first.  

The song was sexy, sensual, and everything she’d used in her line of business for the last few years.  No one could resist the way the song wrapped them in a veil, bringing them closer to the stage.  Bucky’s jaw dropped open, watching the way Y/N’s body moved, her lips quirked up in a smile as she sang beautifully.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to run up to the stage and kiss Y/N, wrap his arms around her so no one else could see the way he felt for her.  It was too soon though, even though they’d talked a lot before their first official date, Bucky didn’t want to screw anything up.  Y/N hopped off the stage once the song was over, giggling at the dumbfounded look on Bucky’s face.

“Jeez, no wonder Barnes was hooked on day one, she’s a catch dude.” Sam patted Bucky on the back, heading over to the bar to order another round of shots.

Bucky could feel Steve’s gaze burning a hole into his back as Y/N wrapped her arms around Bucky’s waist.  What could he even say to the man though?

‘Oh, hey Steve, haven’t seen you since you left with Peggy all those years ago, did I tell you I have a kid?’

That wasn’t something he could casually bring up, even though Bucky refused to even say his name at all.  He’d kept that part of his life hidden, choosing to let only the people that truly mattered most meet his son.  Hopefully one day Y/N would be one of those people.

“As much as I’d love to stay and chat with you guys, I gotta head home and take care of Jacob, and I’m sure Y/N has to take care of her little sister.” Bucky seemed almost insistent that they leave the bar.

Clint booed him, followed by Sam who quickly mentioned that Bucky didn’t get out much anymore.

“Sam, when you have a kid of your own to take care of you can talk to me about it, for now you guys can all enjoy yourselves.” Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, leading them out to where he’d parked.

Bucky felt almost relieved when they neared his truck, muttering a curse under his breath as he heard the tell tale noise that was Steve running after them.  This night had started out perfectly, and it was going to end with Bucky going to jail for hitting Steve in the mouth.

“Bucky, can we talk?  I don’t know the next time I’m going to see you.” When Bucky turned to glare at Steve, he noticed how his eyes were lingering on Y/N.

“It’s late Steve, if you need to talk we can do it when I don’t need to get home and take care of my son, and Y/N needs to get back to her sister.” Bucky was looking for any excuse to get away from Steve.

This was a fight he wasn’t going to lose, Steve wasn’t going to magically come back after over ten years and pretend things were just fine.  Bucky couldn’t handle that kind of hurt again, to be left behind when he needed Steve the most.

“My number hasn’t changed, I work most nights, we can talk in the morning.” Bucky opened the door for Y/N, helping her into the truck before shutting the door, effectively cutting off Steve’s gaze from her.

Bucky didn’t wait for Steve to respond, choosing that moment to get into the drivers seat and head off.  Steve raised a brow, heading back into the bar where everyone else were still enjoying their drinks.

“Clint, who was that girl with Bucky?” He was on a mission, something a little despicable even in his own mind. “Oh, that’s Y/N, Nat knows her too.” Clint gestured to the redhead that was up on stage with Sam.

“You don’t happen to have her number do you?” Steve waited to see if it would work.

Clint immediately pulled out his phone, opening his contacts so Steve could copy the number to his own phone.  Like taking candy from a baby. 2 Weeks Later Bucky stared down at his phone, frown in place as Y/N canceled another date of theirs.  Had he come off too strong?  Managed to finally scare her off with the thought that he had a son that was able to realize who his real mother was?  Ella wasn’t even being brought in by Y/N anymore, she was having Clint take her instead.

“Sam, it’s obvious that I did something wrong, she barely texts me anymore.” Bucky moped into his coffee, sipping it slowly so as not to burn his tongue.

“I find something suspicious about this too, Steve comes into town and suddenly she’s not talking to you anymore?  Especially after you guys seemed to hit it off so well?” Sam had a point, one that Bucky couldn’t ignore any longer.

Unfortunately, fate had decided to play a cruel joke on Bucky’s morning that day, as Y/N and Steve headed into the very same coffee shop that Bucky was sitting in.  He was right, Steve had managed to steal her away, and what could Bucky do?  It wasn’t as if they were actually dating long term or anything, they’d gone on one date.

“Seems I was right, isn’t that just great.” Bucky tried to keep the defeatedness out of his tone, slipping farther down into the seat so Y/N wouldn’t see him.

Bucky wasn’t always a fan of being in public, not since losing his left arm back when he was in the army, and right now he was at his most tense.  Steve was standing a lot closer to Y/N than Bucky ever had, even during their date.

“I’m gonna head home, I got class tonight and I don’t need my mood ruined entirely.” Sam knew that Bucky was wallowing deep within himself, and that by forcing him to stay would only make it worse. “Go ahead, call me if you need to talk afterwards.” Bucky and Sam shared a quick, and quiet, goodbye.

Sam glanced over to where Steve and Y/N had sat down, her face scrunching up as she laughed at a joke Steve had said.  He wasn’t about to sit around watch as Bucky beat himself up over this, not if he had anything to do about it.  So, he did what anyone else in his position would do.  Took his coffee and waltzed right over to their table.

“Well, look who we’ve got here.” Sam knew his smile was friendly and inviting, he’d spent years being a therapist for veterans returning home, so he learned to have patience.

“Oh, hey Sam.” Y/N was still smiling softly, Steve on the other hand looked rather annoyed.

“Didn’t expect to see you two here, especially since this place is really only known to the locals.” Sam leveled his gaze on Steve, who had begun to look uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Bucky told me about this place.” The name seemed to throw her off guard, her eyes glancing around before coming back to the table in front of her.

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, this was Bucky’s fight, and Bucky’s fight alone.  But damnit, Sam couldn’t sit by and watch him crash and burn.

“Bucky already left, we discussed him coming to therapy again, not that it’s important or anything.” Sam finished off his coffee, placing the cup onto the table and standing up.

“What do you mean?” Y/N was fully invested now, begging for the scraps that Sam was graciously throwing her way. “It’s not my place to talk, you two have a lovely day.” The seed was planted, it would only be a matter of time before Nat was texting him.

Steve wasn’t allowed to ruin Bucky’s life anymore, not if Sam had any say.

~~~ Bucky watched the kids file in slowly, hands shoved deep into his pockets, hair pulled back into a bun to prevent it from sticking to his face when he got sweaty later.  He half expected Nat to bring Ella seeing as Clint was busy with work.  What he wasn’t expecting was Y/N to walk in with Ella bouncing happily at her side.

Class went by quicker than Bucky was ever used to, not that he hated being around kids at all,  that was never the case.  It was mostly due to the fact that the woman he was still highly interested in had finally shown up again.  Steve probably had other plans and wasn’t able to take her out to dinner, so therefore she’d shown up as pity.

Bucky waited until everyone had left to start cleaning up, turning on a playlist of his own that wasn’t really child appropriate.  Who was going to judge him though?  He was alone at work, there weren’t any young minds to corrupt.

“Oh I hope he hears these words, maybe this time he will learn.  You should escape!  Skip town!  You’re better on your own!” Bucky sang the words angrily, loudly as he threw one of the mats down in the corner of the room.

Tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks, hands clenched into tight fists as the song ended, slipping into the next track before.  “Bucky?” Jesus, was his luck truly this bad? “Class is over, the next one available will be thursday at six.” Bucky didn’t turn to look at her, stepping over to the stereo system and unplugging his phone quickly.

“Can we talk?  Please?” Y/N reached for his hand, wincing as he pulled away harshly.

Bucky stepped away from where she was, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Talk about what?  How you canceled every date I’ve tried to ask you on because you’d rather spend time with the guy that ruined my life when I was eighteen?  No thanks.” Bucky reached for his duffel bag, hoisting it up onto his shoulder with a low grunt.

His stride was quicker than Y/N could keep up with comfortably, the sound of her steps echoing as she caught up with Bucky as he reached his truck.

“He told me about your sons mother, and how you met.” There was a tightness in her tone, that almost sounded like anger.

“She died six months after he was born, so whatever he told you was a bold faced lie.” Bucky threw his duffel into the passenger seat, slamming the door before stepping around to the drivers side.

Y/N didn’t follow behind him though, jaw dropped open in shock as she stared at him through the foggy window.  

“Is that what you wanted to know?  If you had competition since I had a son I almost didn’t know about until after she passed?” Bucky could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin, he’d definitely have to call Sam now.

Y/N stepped away from the truck as Bucky backed out, driving away before Y/N could ask anything else.  

The roads were slick from the rain that had poured earlier in the day, pavement black as night as he struggled to keep his calm.  How could Steve do this to him?  He hadn’t prevented Steve from moving to another country, so why did he seem so determined to tear him and Y/N apart?

The speedometer continued to increase as Bucky drove to the apartment he called home, tears streaming down his cheeks.  At this rate, he was going to chew off his lower lip entirely.

Realization dawned on Bucky as the needle reached 100mph, heart racing in his chest as he eased his foot off the gas.  He could’ve killed someone, torn a family apart like Y/N’s was.  

“Fuck, oh my god.” Bucky slowed down, pulling off to the side of the road and turning on his hazards.  He needed to call Sam.

He picked up after two rings, hearing the distress in the other man’s voice and offering to drive out and bring him home.  Natasha was going to drive Bucky’s truck home, unfortunately Y/N was sitting inside of Sam’s apartment when they arrived.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make this awkward.” Y/N stood up, reaching for her jacket that was laying haphazardly on the couch currently.

“No, you two need to talk, for everyone’s sake.” Sam sat Bucky down in one of the chairs from the kitchen, waiting until Y/N joined them.

The silence stretched on for ages, neither party speaking for fear of what was going to come out of the other’s mouth in retaliation.  What could Y/N say though?  This was truly her fault, she’d let someone else convince her on how things truly worked.

“I should’ve talked to you Bucky, gotten the actual truth from you.” Y/N wrung her hands together, tension bleeding out into the air between them.

“He wanted to get under my skin because I’d called him a coward for running away from his problems.” Bucky took a deep breath, glancing at everyone that was in the room.

This was a secret he’d held for the last ten years to himself, and now they were all going to know the truth.

“His mom was sick, had stage four cancer, we were all pretty sure that she wasn’t going to make it longer than six months.  Steve ended up packing his things and moving out two months after he turned eighteen, leaving behind his mother who was dying.  And over time she got better, the chemo worked wonders and she was back to being herself.  I never told Steve that she made it out, he didn’t deserve to know,” Bucky ran a hand through his hair, fear racing through his veins.

“It ended up coming back after a couple years, only this time there wasn’t anything they could do for her.  Sarah Rogers passed away three days after I turned twenty one, and I was the only person she had left that she’d considered family.” Bucky smiled sadly, wiping at the tears that were falling down his cheeks.

Sam rested a hand against his shoulder, assuring him that he was surrounded by people who cared for him.

“I didn’t tell Steve for months, by the time I did I felt like a coward, if he ever came to visit her grave, well I wouldn’t know.” Bucky glanced over to Y/N, watching the tears well up in her eyes.

“A few years later I met my son’s mother, we were young and stupid, didn’t use protection and she got pregnant right away.  I got that phone call when she was hit by a drunk driver, killed on impact.  Jacob was home with me so thankfully he hadn’t been in the car, but he lost his mother before he ever got the chance to really know her.  And here we are today.” Bucky gestured to the room of people with his left hand, metal shining in the dim light.

It was a tender moment, one that was broken by Bucky’s stomach growling loudly.

“How about we get some food in you, I’m sure dancing took a lot of energy out of you.” Bucky only nodded, letting Sam whip him up something quick and easy.

He could feel Y/N’s gaze on him, eyes rimmed red as she sat in the chair across from him, jaw still dropped open.

“I’m in therapy, things are much better now I swear.” The words sounded like a lie, even to his own ears.

“You’ve gone through so much, god Bucky you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Bucky shook his head, holding up a hand to prevent her from interrupting what he had to say.

“I was already a parent when Jacob’s mother passed away Y/N, you were thrown into that position in the blink of an eye, if anyone’s strong, it’s you.” Y/N blushed, glancing away from Bucky’s intense gaze.

Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, praising the woman who’d recently brought him to tears on more than one occasion in the last two weeks.  Yeah, he was definitely a glutton.

“Can we start over Buck?” Y/N looked downright nervous, and it brought a small smile to Bucky’s face.

“Promise to pick the restaurant for our first date?” Bucky chuckled when Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You got yourself a deal there Barnes.” Y/N reached her hand over, shaking Bucky’s swiftly.

3 Years Later Bucky fixed his tie in the mirror, nerves racing as he sighed softly.  Today was a big day, and he was downright terrified to admit that it was really happening.

“Time to go, they’re waiting for us downstairs.” Bucky nodded, following Sam down to the altar.

It was exactly how they’d wanted everything to be, from the decorations, to the people they’d invited to watch them get married.  And today was the day Bucky was going to make the love of his life his wife.

Life was finally perfect.

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 7

Chapter title: Secrets and sorrows Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3  | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None A/N: This chapter tore the hell out of my emotions, and I actually expect it to do much the same to you. I’d apologize for that but I know you’ll all stick with me to the end, because the story has a long way to go to get to that happy ending you all want so much! Enjoy! X

The next three weeks were some of the best weeks of my life. Being Taron’s girlfriend, being loved by him, was an exceptional experience. Despite both of us being incredibly busy and in the thick of filming, he never let a day go by where he didn’t remind me in some way that I was loved and that I was his. I’d never had a relationship that had felt so genuinely real and sweet and supportive, and it made a difference in how I felt about my own life to that point.

One of my favorite moments had been the evening I was making dinner, some kind of cauliflower pasta recipe Taron had agreed to be the guinea pig for. He and Clara were seated at the dining table, going over her fractions homework. Clara’s frustration at not understanding the problems was palpable, but I just remember how patient and calm Taron remained until that look of understanding dawned on my daughter’s face. They’d both looked up at me, leaning in the kitchen doorway, with the sweetest looks on their faces.

Their bond was growing every day, made even stronger when, unbeknownst to me, a special delivery had been made of a Steinway upright studio piano so Clara could continue her lessons at home. I will never forget the look on her face when she realized it really was hers and it would be staying in my front room. Taron rebuffed every “you shouldn’t have” I tried to give him, telling me he knew first-hand how important it was to be supported in the pursuit of your art. I couldn’t deny him that, because I knew it to be true as well. Still, a few internet searches later made me gasp at how much he had spent on us; I knew I could never repay him.

But that was just the thing; he didn’t want or need repayment. He did things for people out of the kindness of his heart; he never expected someone to give him a favor back. He was generous to a fault, and whether he knew how much money he was worth or not, he never affected an attitude that he was affluent. He remained the working class boy he’d spent his childhood growing up as, the boy who needed financial help from his family just to audition for RADA. And I think I loved him even more for that.

Trying to pin Markus down, though, that was a whole other story. I knew I needed to tell him we were definitely done, but every time I tried to make plans to grab a coffee he had something else come up. We were dancing every day, learning choreography for both “Saturday Night’s Alright” and “Bitch Is Back,” and my body hurt in every way it was possible to hurt. Both of those pieces were massive, and when they secured set locations we would have to be ready to go. 

I’m pretty sure I spent more time at Rocketman rehearsals those few weeks than I did teaching my own classes, but I was beginning to wonder if Markus was blowing me off because he already suspected what I needed to tell him. I had finally decided to just grab him after rehearsal that day and make it final, and the stress and anxiety of it made me feel slightly queasy.

We had just finished rehearsal and Leah immediately came up to me before I could pull Markus aside. “Are you okay?” she asked me, and I shrugged.

“Of course. I mean, I’m with Taron now anyway,” I said, watching Markus flirt a bit shamelessly with another dancer, and she was all-too-happy to be receiving his attention. I’m not really sure how someone could manage to make a leotard look slutty, but she certainly got an A for the effort.

“Markus can be a dick, forget that. What I mean is that you’re really pale but your cheeks are also really flushed,” Leah said, staring at my face.

“Oh, that, I don’t feel great, no,” I shook my head. “I’m kind of nauseous, but hey, I’m here. The show must go on,” I said, giving her a faint smile.

“Or it really doesn’t if you’re really sick, Juliette,” she said. “Maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

“I just need to deal with Markus and get home and take a nice long soak and get some sleep. I’ll be fine,” I said, giving her a tight smile even though I was fighting the urge to lose my lunch at that moment. “See you tomorrow?” I said, and she nodded, still looking concerned. But when I turned away from her to find Markus, he had already disappeared, and I was in no state to try and chase him down.

I changed into my sneaks and gathered up my bag and, as I was leaving, had to make a detour into the bathroom to puke after all. I hadn’t had much to eat that day anyway, so it was mostly orange Gatorade and bile and I felt worse for throwing up, since it was now burning in my throat and sinuses.

“Ugh, fuck,” I groaned as I left the stall, trying to wipe the clammy sweat off my forehead. The truth was that I was waking up most mornings feeling a little ill and sometimes it lasted long into the day. I was beginning to think I needed to go to the doctor, but it seemed to come and go at random. I imagined it was likely just stress from everything going on, but it would probably be wise to see the doctor anyway. I washed up, splashing water on my face, and smiled as I scrolled through my texts. Taron never failed to make me feel better no matter what.

I left the bathroom and passed Riley and her posse hanging out in the hallway, ignoring their stares and the whispered comments on how I must be bulimic because that’s why I was always running to the bathroom during rehearsals and why I stayed so skinny. I had no idea what they were talking about, and ignoring them was always the safest bet, but their bullying still got under my skin some days. I wished I could turn to them and tell them off, but that probably wouldn’t satisfy anything or make me feel better.

The subway ride to my mother’s to pick up Clara, and subsequently home, made me feel even more queasy, and I lost my appetite for dinner for the rest of the evening. After I helped Clara with her homework, her piano lessons, and made her food, I ended up just laying in front of the telly, exhausted and lacking any energy, for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the most inspiring end to the day, and just as I was crawling into bed, Taron called me. 

“Hey love!” he replied when I answered the phone, probably sounding as sleepy as I felt.

“Hey T,” I groaned, rolling over slightly in my bed, all of my muscles protesting.

“Everything alright?” he asked, the excitement draining from his voice slightly.

“I just feel miserable, honestly,” I said softly. “I think I might go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh, babe, you should have called me over. I’d bring you the best soup my mam made to make me feel better,” he said sweetly.

“I just need sleep. And probably strong drugs,” I mumbled into the phone.

“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to the clinic?” he asked, and I shook my head before realizing he couldn’t see that.

“I’ll not have you cancel on your film scenes to go wait in a clinic lobby. I’m sure it’s just some kind of bug. I’ll be fine,” I insisted, and I could hear him pacing on the other end, the way he did when he was anxious about something.

“Alright, but if you need me, you know I’ll be there, right?” he said quietly.

“Of course, babe. I know that. With my whole heart, I know that,” I smiled softly. We chatted a bit more but I couldn’t hardly keep my eyes open, and soon we ended our call and I passed out.

I actually felt better in the morning, enough to keep some dry toast down, and after seeing Clara off to school, I managed to teach my first two classes of the day before taking my lunch break to go to the clinic. My stomach had started to churn again, and I was ready to just be over this stomach bug. I got checked in and had to groan at the long wait time, having to text the Rocketman choreographer that I’d be running late to rehearsals but he only told me to take care of myself and he’d see me later, and to let him know if that somehow changed.

I was a nervous wreck by the time my name was called, and after having my vitals checked (and frowning over the fact that I’d gained 10 pounds despite my diet restrictions) and explaining my symptoms to the nurse, I was left to wait in the room for another 15 minutes, shivering in the cold air. I bounced my knee and aimlessly scrolled through Facebook until the doctor came in. After describing my symptoms, yet again, even though they were in my chart, the doctor asked if there was even a remote chance that I could be pregnant. And since I couldn’t answer that with utter confidence, she made me take the dreaded urine test. 

I was so nervous I nearly couldn’t do it, and then had to wait even longer for the results to come back, my stomach tied in knots for an entirely different reason. I’d had my period, though, so I’d never thought to take the home tests I’d bought. I’d believed that was a sure sign I wasn’t. But what if I’d been wrong? I thought to myself, my head a complete jumble.

When the doctor knocked and came back in the room, interrupting my train of thought, I nearly fell off the table for having been holding my breath so long. I was clutching my phone in my hand so hard my knuckles were turning white.

“Well, Juliette, your symptoms are very explainable by one very simple thing. You are indeed pregnant, about seven weeks or so,” the doctor replied, as gently as possible.

“But it can’t be,” I whispered, feeling the walls of the room closing in around me, the tightness in my chest threatening to overwhelm me. “I had my period,” I said stupidly.

“Many women still have menstrual cycles, especially in the first trimester. It’s quite common, and some can even exhibit period symptoms throughout the entire pregnancy. But the results are very clear,” she explained sympathetically after gauging my reaction as not-of-the-excited variety.

When I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, the doctor continued, giving me a prescription to help with the nausea and telling me I needed to follow up with my Ob-Gyn. I could only nod my head, still frozen in the ocean of confusion, fear, anxiety, joy and excitement that came with “You’re pregnant.” Where do I go from here? I had no idea.

I left the clinic in an absolute daze, and instead of going to Rocketman rehearsal, I ended up wandering around Regents Park, not really seeing anything at all as I worked through the torrent of emotions and thoughts and questions inside my head. Seven weeks meant the baby was definitely Markus’ - that was the only good thing about this situation. I wouldn’t have to spend months wondering who the father might be. 

But now I wasn’t sure what to do; I was in love with Taron, but how could I possibly ask him to carry this burden with me, to take this responsibility on when it was another man’s? Even more so, I was adamant that Clara know her father; I would fight just as hard to make sure this baby knew his or hers. And I had yet to actually leave Markus, so maybe the right thing to do was to decide to be with him even if it didn’t make my heart entirely happy. I now had a responsibility to this baby to not be selfish, to not choose only my own happiness but what would be best for all of us.

I gently touched my belly and smiled for a moment; a new chapter in my life was most definitely beginning.

I finally made it to rehearsals, texting Taron that we needed to talk later, as soon as we could manage to find time. He responded immediately that he’d meet me after rehearsals were over, so I spent the next few hours trying to dance through my anxiety. As soon as I stepped out of the rehearsal room, bag slung over my shoulder, Taron was there waiting for me.

“Juliette, darling, everything alright?” he asked, kissing me on the forehead and making me feel intrinsically sad.

“No, not really,” I said softly, nodding toward one of the empty studios. We stepped inside and instantly I felt smaller, diminished by what I was going to do, a lesser person somehow.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he asked, his eyes wide and full of the vulnerability that had endeared me to him, my hands clutched tightly in his.

“I can’t do this,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he even heard me. “I can’t be with you, Taron,” I mumbled, hearing his sharp intake of breath and feeling it like a knife wound in my heart.

“What the hell do you mean?” he asked, slowly dropping my hands and staring at me.

“I have to break up with you. I’m going to choose Markus,” I said numbly, unfeeling.

“You told me you loved me,” he said, the hurt in his voice hurting me.

“That was a lie,” I said, trying not to tear up. I’m not sure I sounded even remotely convincing.

“No, it wasn’t a lie,” he said, shaking his head and calling my bluff. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, at all. I don’t understand it, but I won’t play these games with you,” he said, waiting for me to explain myself. But I couldn’t tell him about the baby now; it would only hurt him further. “I gave my heart to you. You can’t just toss it away or pick it back up when it’s convenient to you,” he said, not an ounce of anger in his words, only resignation. His eyes were a bit red at that point, and if I wasn’t already feeling low, seeing him nearly cry would have broken me down further.

He sighed heavily when I still said nothing. “When you’re good and ready to love someone proper, come back to me. But until then, I wish you all the best,” he said gruffly, tearing himself away and leaving me standing alone in the studio, the pain in my heart echoing silently off the walls.

****

It turns out that I deserved the biggest Oscar award in the world. To act sincerely happy when your heart is shattered into a million jagged pieces is no small feat. Markus, for his part, was beyond thrilled that I had chosen to be with him after all, and while he wasn’t Taron in any capacity, he was still kind to me at least. I had yet to tell him that I was pregnant though; somehow that felt like a secret I needed to protect until the moment I couldn’t hide it any longer. 

For now, I continued to dance, eating anti-nausea meds like Pez candies and trying to find the right balance between eating enough food to sustain myself and the baby but not so much that I’d gain any more than I had to. If the production never found out I was knocked up, then no one else would have to be the wiser. I hadn’t told my mum yet either, afraid of her judgment, nor Madison, even though I desperately needed to talk to someone about this. All she knew was that I had decided to cast my lot in with Markus and that I was, according to her, figuratively insane.

The worst part was the cold politeness I now received from Taron any time we ran into each other at the studios. I hated what we had become, hated the pain I had caused him and myself. I knew he’d shut himself down to protect his own feelings against me, but knowing how warm and compassionate and open he could be just made this feel even worse. Still, I knew for certain that he couldn’t know about the baby, and so I bore the ups and downs of the pregnancy for weeks in silence, sometimes dreading getting out of bed, sometimes full of a strange energy I couldn’t explain. But glowing I was not; I mostly felt bedraggled and exhausted, so much that even Clara asked if I was sick one day.

But you can only go so long without support before you totally break; I learned that lesson the hard way. Five weeks later, after a back-breaking rehearsal, I just totally felt something inside me snap. We were about to start night shoots for the “Saturday Night’s Alright” scenes but I couldn’t even muster the excitement I had originally felt when I signed my contract. I felt like I was going through the motions of everything, and I was worried I wouldn’t even be a proper fit for the film. I was living a lie, only partly happy in this pseudo-relationship I was trying to build with Markus. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t me, and keeping the baby a secret was crushing me. I also desperately missed Taron, and I can’t tell you how many times I nearly dialed his number, because I knew despite everything he would have picked up the phone, and he would have listened, and he would have tried to help me find a solution even if he wasn’t with me. That was just the person he was; I felt like I had lost my best friend.

I pulled Markus into the same empty studio I had broken Taron’s heart in, and sat down on the floor, my hips aching something fierce.

“Markus, I have to tell you something. Please don’t freak out,” I said quietly, as he sprawled out on the floor next to me, his sweaty shirt sticking to his muscular chest.

“What is it, babe?” he asked, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. While I loved when Taron called me babe, something about the way Markus said it always made me cringe slightly. For a moment I nearly chickened out in telling him my news, but I couldn’t keep going on like this. At some point he would notice when I was naked that my just-beginning-to-show stomach bump was more than just a large meal I wasn’t even eating.

“You remember that first time we had sex, right?” I said, looking over at him and biting my lip.

“Of course I remember that,” he chuckled. “I fell for you that night,” he said, a boyishly cute grin on his face.

“Yeah, well, we did a lot more that night than just sleep together. Markus, we made a baby. I’m pregnant,” I said quietly, but my words still sounded too loud.

“Woah, no way,” he said, sitting up immediately. “You… you’re sure of that?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I had a test at the clinic, I’m sure,” I said. “I’m twelve weeks already.”

“And you’re sure it’s mine?” he asked, making me sigh.

“Of course it is. Taron’s always used protection, for one, and for two, the timeline is right. It was you.”

He was quiet for a long few minutes, trying to process this news, I’m guessing. “You’re running out of time then,” he finally spoke.

“Running out of time? For what?” I asked, confused.

“Well you’re not going to keep the thing, are you?” he said, and I couldn’t help it, my jaw dropped.

“Of course I’m going to keep your son or daughter. This baby isn’t some ‘thing.’ It’s not garbage you throw away,” I said, feeling the anger rising in my chest.

“Woah, I didn’t mean it like that Juliette. But I sure as hell am not ready to become a father,” he said, holding up his hands to me.

“You don’t get to make that decision now, Markus. You have to take responsibility for what you did,” I nearly hissed. “And what about Clara? You can’t date me without considering her!”

“Yeah, but Clara’s old enough to wipe her own ass. And I’m not her father, she already has one of those she spends time with. I’m fine with that, but a baby is a whole other story. You can’t possibly want this too, it will ruin your career,” he pointed out, and I could only stare at him, unable to process what he was saying.

“My career? Being a mum was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life and I will choose my family over my career every single day of my life. But of course, you wouldn’t know what that’s like because you don’t even want to try,” I said, my face flushing red.

“I’m sorry Juliette. I just can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d support you if you want to, you know, terminate it, but I won’t be the one raising it,” he said. “I’m not going to shatter my life like that,” he continued.

“Then get out. Get out of my face. Don’t ever talk to me again,” I said, my voice shaking in both anger and anguish. “This baby will be better off without someone who doesn’t want it. But I do, and my baby will always know how much I love him or her.”

I buried my head in my hands, bursting into tears as I heard Markus leave the room without another word. I’m not sure what I had expected, but that was not it. I hadn’t remotely prepared myself for the possibility that he would have wanted me to get an abortion, that he would reject fatherhood so thoroughly. Were any of us ever ready to be a parent, even people who had looked forward to it for so long? There was something so deeply terrifying about being responsible for the needs of such a tiny human being, of trying to help them thrive in a world meant for destruction. But that was also the greatest role I had ever held, far more rewarding than any production I had ever graced the stage in. And it wasn’t until the words had left my mouth that I realized how deeply, fiercely I wanted and needed this baby too.

I have no idea how long I cried in that empty studio. I have no idea who discovered me like that through the tiny window in the door. And I have no idea who went and got Taron, but suddenly he was there, pulling me into his safe, comforting arms. I don’t know how long we sat like that, until I had long cried all my tears out and my body had stopped shaking and his fingers grew tired of stroking my hair.

He had stayed silent, patient, until I finally pulled away enough to sit up on my own. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” he asked, absolutely no judgment in his voice. His expression was nothing but kind and compassionate, worried for my well-being over his own.

“I found out I was pregnant five weeks ago,” I said softly. “That’s why I was feeling so ill. I went to the clinic and we did a test. I was already seven weeks at that point. I thought … I thought it would be the right thing to do to give Markus a chance to be the father of the baby he created with me but he wants no part in it. He told me to get rid of it, and I can’t,” I whispered.

“That’s why you tried to break things off with me?” Taron asked gently, smoothing back my hair from my face as I nodded. “Oh Juliette,” he said softly. “I knew there was something, some reason for it. I knew that wasn’t what you wanted, that you were breaking your own heart. I’ve only been waiting for you,” he said, making me want to cry again. “I am here for you in everything, through everything. And we will face this together too. When I told you I loved you, there were no conditions attached. And I love Clara too, and I will love Markus’ baby as it were my own. Because that’s how I love, endlessly,” he said, and my eyes watered up again.

“I can’t ask that of you, Taron,” I said, wiping at my face hastily, but he just reached over and gently brushed my tears from my cheeks before gathering my hands in his own.

“You’re not asking me to do anything. This is something I need too. Maybe it doesn’t happen exactly the way I imagined it would, but that doesn’t mean I can’t accept it, adapt to it, and grow with it. Life has a way of challenging people, but that doesn’t make it all bad. And I right imagine that this could be so much more of a blessing, yeah?”

“My God, you’re a saint. An absolute angel, Taron. I don’t deserve this, at all. I pushed you away,” I said, trembling slightly so he pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead sweetly.

“I’m just Taron,” he smiled. “And you do deserve to be happy, and to be loved, and to be absolutely fucking cherished. So I am here for as long as you want me to be here,” he said. “I never really stopped.”

“Even with this?” I asked, touching my belly, which I had started to hide beneath dance sweats because leotards just weren’t cutting it anymore.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he grinned and I’m pretty sure I broke apart in a whole new way at that statement.

“Taron,” I breathed slowly, just gazing at him, feeling excited and a bit bewildered too. “Are you sure?”

“100 percent, Juliette. Now stop asking me that because I won’t change my mind,” he chuckled sweetly. “Now let’s get you up off this floor, and let’s go have a celebratory dinner, shall we?” he said.

“But don’t you have more filming to get back to?” I asked, a bit wide-eyed and still feeling a bit like I was floating a few feet off the ground. My head was swimming with the crazy turn of events.

“Dex understands. You needed me, it’s really as simple as that,” he replied, helping me stand up and even shouldering my stinky dance bag himself, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Taron, not invalid,” I teased him and he just shrugged.

“I’d carry it for you any day,” he smirked, even holding the studio door open for me too. “Get used to it,” he said, before playfully slapping me on the bum as I walked by. “Also just wanted to do that,” he said cheekily, making me groan at that but also feel so grateful that we hadn’t lost what made us feel so special.

“So who all knows about this?” he asked me as we walked out to his car.

“Just you and Markus, really. I hadn’t told anyone before today,” I said softly. “I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore. I was feeling so alone.”

“Well you aren’t alone now, at all. And you should tell your mum, and Madison. Tell them the baby is mine if you like, if you’re worried about anyone judging you. It might as well be, because I’m going to love it that way,” he said, squeezing my hand in his. “But you should feel happy, and proud, and excited. I want that for you,” he grinned, changing everything about the fear and confusion I’d felt just a few weeks before.

“How are you so perfect, Taron?” I asked, shaking my head in awe of him.

“I just wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s not that hard to care about people more than yourself. I find that pays itself back in dividends. And it’s not hard to love you, you know. You’ve brought a lot of color and light into my life in a way I didn’t understand it could be before,” he said softly. “And now I have even more to look forward to.”

“Damnit, T,” I said through the blush rising in my cheeks. “I don’t know how to handle when you say things like that,” I laughed. “It’s like living inside a fairy tale.”

“Fairy tales were written because the truth in them does exist. They aren’t unattainable, impossible figments of our imagination. They can be elusive, yes, and rare, but sometimes you do find yourself living inside one.”

I could only gaze after him as he unlocked the car, opening the door for me again, as I felt every bit of myself being put right again. We decided on our favorite pizza place, but I first made him stop by my house so I could shower and change into more suitable clothes. Clara was with Zayn that night, so we took our time eating and enjoying our relationship again, a relationship that nothing could seem to derail.

I had the idea to stop over at my mum’s, because of all the people who should know, who had been through thick and thin for me with Clara, it was her. Taron almost seemed cutely nervous as we sat on the couch and I broke the news to her. My mom honestly screamed in excitement, jumping up and enveloping us both in a bone-crushing hug. I had no idea why I was so worried about her reaction after all; we never mentioned the baby’s lineage and let her assume since Taron was there. We figured it would be easier this way, to not have to deliver the news with a long introductory caveat, and if the question came up later we could explain then.

As we were driving back to my home, it hit me with a sudden jolt that I would have to meet Taron’s parents, and that we would be sharing the news with his family too. Something about that made everything feel far more real to me, that this was honestly going to be my life. That I would truly become a part of his life, not just in the few dates we managed to squeeze between rehearsals and film sequences, but that we would honestly be creating a life together. There would be many things to have to discuss and figure out in the near future, but tonight wasn’t the night for all of that.

Later, when we were laying on the couch, my head in his lap, the telly on a low murmur and both of us trying to not pass out, everything just felt right. Troy was snoozing on the rug, and I felt as emotionally satisfied as it was possible to feel, and far too stuffed with pizza than I had a right to be. I didn’t have to put on any kind of show with Taron; there was no performance here. We could both comfortably be ourselves, even if that was tired and cranky or moody or whatever.

“Tomorrow’s a big day,” I said with a yawn.

“God, don’t remind me. Night shoots,” he groaned playfully.

“I think it’s exciting,” I grinned. “The set already looks insanely cool. I can’t imagine it all lit up at night!” I smiled. We’d already had a few camera blockings at the carnival they had built specifically for this scene. I was honestly excited about the four days we’d be shooting tomorrow, despite the massive amount of logistics that would go into it. We were definitely in for some long, long nights.

“You think that because you haven’t done it yet,” he giggled. “Speaking of, we should probably head for bed ourselves now. Try to store up some of that energy we’ll be needing.”

I grinned at that and happily followed him back to my bedroom. We both quickly got ready for bed and fell into it, and I was all too happy to see him resting between my frilly sheets and pillows. “You’re cute,” I grinned, kissing the tip of his nose, which he wrinkled in response.

“Well don’t give me a big ego about it,” he teased me lightly, pulling me down to him so that I squealed and then kissing me proper a few times.

“Get some sleep, love,” he smiled, his eyes already drifting shut in exhaustion.

“You too, T. Thanks for saving me today,” I said softly.

“Always,” he breathed out, falling asleep shortly after, his eyelashes sweetly resting against his cheeks in slumber.

Despite my own exhaustion, I was still a whirlwind of emotion and I couldn’t quite fall asleep, so I silently slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, sitting on the bathroom floor and calling Madison even though it was late and not caring if it woke her up.

“What on earth is going on with you!” she fairly screeched into the phone when she answered, clearly not asleep. “You’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I’m so-”

“I’m pregnant!” I cut in, and she instantly stopped what she was saying.

“What?!” Madison yelled into the phone, so I had to hold it away from my ear for a moment.

“Jesus, Mads. Calm down. Things have really changed,” I said, explaining why I’d broken up with Taron, how things went down with Markus, and that Taron had been more forgiving than I deserved him to be toward me.

“So you’re back together again?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. I’m not sure we really were ever apart. He knew I hadn’t made the decision I wanted to make. That the lie was that I didn’t want him. He knew that the whole time. He truly knows me better than I know myself,” I smiled softly.

“And what about, you know, Markus’ baby?”

“That Markus refuses to acknowledge? Yeah, Taron said it’s his now. He wants to be a dad, and he’s claiming this as his.”

“That’s love, right there, Juliette. It’s staring you right in the face. Don’t you dare ever try and throw that away again, you hear? I will kick your little ballerina ass with my own pointe shoes if I have to!” she squealed, making me laugh too.

“I think I’m done screwing everything up here,” I replied with a laugh. “The universe couldn’t be louder and clearer.”

“That’s for damn sure. Now I’m just curious when he’s going to put a ring on that finger of yours!” she giggled.

“Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” I cautioned.

“Dream a little, Juliette. He’s obviously a bit of a romantic. You know he’s going to make an honest woman of you. You’d better get on Pinterest and start planning. Oh, and I’d better be your maid of honor,” she said, making me laugh again. I listened to her chatter on about weddings and babies and all the possibilities, feeling bemused but also a little hopeful. I had no idea what a future with Taron looked like, not really, balancing kids and our careers. But I was certain that it would be happy; not easy, not perfect, but always fulfilling and supportive.

“Alright, Mads, I should go,” I said with a yawn, breaking into her reverie of my own someday maybe wedding.

“Oh, of course. Momma ought to get her baby rest,” she teased me, but it was all in love and excitement for me.

“You know it,” I giggled. “And that hottie in my bed tonight, snoring away,” I snickered.

“Jesus, you lucky bitch,” Madison joked, sort of.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grinned. “Night, Mads. Love you long.”

“Love you hard, Juliette,” she grinned back before we managed to hang up the call. I leaned my head back against the wall for a long moment, smiling to myself. I could honestly do this - I could have a happy life, I thought to myself.

I used the toilet one last time, already starting to feel the need to do that more often, before slipping back into bed with Taron, realizing just how much I had missed seeing the silhouette of his sleeping form. We had grown so comfortable with each other, that that absence over five weeks had been misery. But like magnets, we had found our way back to each other, his openness, vulnerability and forgiving heart never once questioning whether I should be in his life. He already knew that was where I belonged, and I loved him so much for never doubting it. I needed him, and he accepted that, and trusted so much of himself to my broken heart.

“Love you, T,” I said in the darkness, brushing my fingers lightly through his hair, before settling in next to him, feeling every ache and pain, emotionally wrought, but also feeling a deep satisfaction too. There was a certain courage in what he was choosing to do, and I respected him whole-heartedly for it. The universe had given me the greatest gifts, the man beside me, and the baby inside me. As I fell into the sweetest slumber, I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to let go now.

How will Taron and Juliette’s lives intersect, now that there’s a baby between them? Find out in Chapter 8 HERE.

[alocasiareversa]

Welcome Home a one-shot Shino/OC 1,512 words AO3 & FF

Soira welcomes home her husband Shino after a three week long mission, and then they go take a nap. Add some fluff and that's all. 

Soira goes about the morning routine, even when Shino is gone on a mission. Pour a spoonful of sugar into the empty mug, add a splash of milk, and patiently pour hot water into the filter filled with coffee grounds. Give it a quick stir and then head to the deck to enjoy the early morning. That has been her morning alone for nearly three weeks now and while she has heard nothing from him or officials from the village, she cannot help but let a twinge of worry infiltrate her thoughts. She has to shake it off regularly, reminding herself that no news is good news.

Sliding the screen door open slowly, she lets the dog out first before following behind, keeping an eye on the garden spider that is perched just to the left. Soira isn't afraid of insects, but spiders were certainly the lowest on her list of favorite-to-least-favorite insects.

Gently she sighed, placing her mug on the wooden table and grabbed the small journal - a gift from Shino for their first anniversary - and opened it to where she left off yesterday morning. She gazed out into the yard, watching Kouta trot around before making his way back over to her and settling in next to her for the regular morning routine.

She gave him a quick scratch on the head, a smile playing on her lips. Then she uncapped her pen and got to writing.

Mornings are our favorite. Peaceful, quiet, together. All the things that Shino and I have enjoyed since we first met - in fact, its how we began hanging out. We met while at the lake nearby his clan's compound and we just kept seeing each other minding our business in the afternoons and eventually we began talking. Nothing showy, and we liked it that way.

Missions where he is gone for weeks are hard on me. I don't work anymore - not that I'm complaining, but not having chunks of time to focus on other things can really make my mind wander sometimes. I don't voice it but I cannot help but feel scared, especially when he comes home with new injuries or a depletion of his hive. But this is the life that I have chosen - happily, and it is something that I deal with to be with him.

He's expressed the desire to become a teacher after he has accomplished what he wishes as a ninja. Missions are slower these days. He doesn't complain about it, quite the opposite in fact, but he wants to do more for the village than what he can accomplish as an active ninja. He's been toying with the idea of teaching for a couple of years now and I think he is getting close to the point of taking a step towards that direction. I will support him in whatever endeavor he chooses, just as he does with me.

She sighed, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air.

I love living here. The compound sits on a large plot of land and houses our home that Shino and I have made our own, as well as his parent's and is close to the rest of his clan's residences as well. Hearing the crickets chirping and the buzz of the beetles makes me feel at home.

The smell of the coffee filled my nostrils. She took a deep swig, savoring the taste of fresh coffee. Placing the mug back down on the table, she froze. Kouta stood abruptly, facing toward the screen door. He didn't snarl so she didn't become alarmed immediately. It may just be Shino's mother coming over to say hello and share breakfast together. His fluffy tail began to wag quickly and she took the moment to turn and look behind her, squinting into the screen to see what Kouta can.

A very covered figure appears through the screen and it opened slowly. She stood quickly, a shocked look on her face.

"Shino!" she said excitedly, wrapping her arms around him as he does the same for her. She tugged his hood down and tangle a hand into his hair. Pulling back just a little, she beamed up at him. "Hi!" She kissed him quickly, cupping his face. "I thought you wouldn't be home for another week?"

He nodded slowly, a small smile gracing his face. "We attained all of the information we needed so we got the OK to head home. We stayed at an inn a couple hours away last night before heading out before dawn this morning." He dipped his head down, catching her lips once more. "I missed you," he murmured, sliding an arm around her waist to bring her body closer to his.

She nearly groaned as they broke apart. "Get settled back in and I'll make you a cup of coffee?" she asked, smiling brightly up at him. Her thumb grazed his cheek, feeling some stubble for a few days of not shaving. She leaned up on her tippy-toes to give him one last quick peck, saying, "I missed you, Shino. Welcome home."

Shino trailed behind his wife as she seemed to dance through the door and into the kitchen. Leaning forward against the island for a moment, he smiled softly at her. He took his glasses off and left them on the counter, slinking off into the bedroom to take a quick shower and change into my homey clothes.

Soira quickly got to work on his coffee, reusing the grounds from her first cup. He preferred a less strong brew compared to her, so it always worked out well. She glanced behind her for a moment, hearing the water start in the bathroom. He has always been one to take a quick shower. Too hot of water would mess with the hive in his body and the temperature that they prefer he doesn't enjoy the shower, so he has always sped through his routine.

It was no surprise that Soira had barely finished filling the mug when Shino walked out with just a towel around his waist and brushed back wet hair. Bright amber eyes met her green ones and she felt her breath catch in her throat. A strong hand landed on her lower back as he pressed his lips to her temple "Thank you, ladybug."

She nodded, giving him a soft smile. "I'll be outside when you're dressed." He retreated back to the bedroom once more, leaving the door cracked open just a bit. She lifted the mug and returned outside, placing it near her own. She sat back down, scratching Kouta's head as she gazed at her journal. She couldn't find it in herself to continue now that she was in a completely different head space.

The sun finally began peering over the tops of the tress. She stole a sip from Shino's coffee, pulling a face from the bitterness from the lack of sweetener, but smile to herself regardless. The screen door slid open behind her and Kouta stood again, trotting out into the yard to sniff the flowers and scare some bugs going about their day. Shino nudged his chair a bit closer to Soira's, making her smile up at him. He placed his book near her journal as he sat down.

His eyes shone in the morning light. "Did your mission go well?"

"Yes. Better than my father and I expected it to go." He reached an arm out to lay his hand on her thigh, palm up, wanting to hold hands. She happily obliged. He sighed contentedly, a small smile gracing his lips.

They stayed like this for minutes, just enjoying their time together for the first time in weeks. Shino leaned his head back against the chair, angling it towards his wife.

"I just want to take a nap," he admitted, earning a laugh from Soira. She squeezed his hand as he smiled at her.

"Why don't we finish our coffee and then we can go take a nap before the coffee kicks in?" He was silent for a moment before nodding once, a sleepy smile getting shared between them.

Neither rushed to finish their coffee, though Shino looked like he was ready to pass out. Together they slunk back into their home with their empty mugs, Shino taking Soira's so she could head to the bedroom before him. He followed moments later as they slid under the covers of their respective sides.

Soira wrapped a leg over his as she laid her head on his strong chest, hearing the steady heartbeat in her ear. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as he gave her head a quick kiss.

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, squeezing her body into his more.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, snaking a hand under his shirt to rest on his stomach. She fell asleep to the feeling of his fingers brushing up and down her arm lazily, which quickly collapsed to the bed just moments later as Shino succumbed to sleep as well.