bcero

[fatuismooches]

Hi! Hope you’re having a wonderful day today cuz it is STORMING where I’m at and it got me thinking about more fluffy moments with fragile reader and dottore. Like what is dinner like with him or his segments?

I remember a long time ago I read this Reddit post about how a crow broke her beak in an accident 8 years ago and her mate patiently fed her since.

And it got me thinking about fragile reader not being able to eat much due to their illness and so dottore has to aid them by assisting them with their meals.

“I’m sorry”

“What for dearest?”

“For making you have to feed me…I can’t help but feel bad since you have other duties to attend to”

“Well, you cooked for me plenty of times back at the academia. Did you not have other studies to attend to as well?”

“Yeah…”

“Did you want me to feel bad then?”

“Of course not”

“Then why should this be any different? You and I assist each other in our own way, and once you get back on your feet…it will feel no different”

YESSSS..... oh my the fluff is adorable! <3 You do need help with meals, for whatever reason it may be - shaky hands, trouble swallowing, struggling to find motivation, etc - but that is why Dottore and the segments are with you, especially on the bad days. Though you always feel bad that they have to waste their valuable time with you, helping you do something that should be easy but it's not, they always make sure to reassure you that it's no problem. Even on days when you struggle to even take a few bites. When it tastes like nothing.

Maybe you'll get a flick to the forehead too, just to get it into that brain of yours, about how he'll stay to the very end. Just like how you did the same for him in the Akademiya! He'd always bring up examples of helpful things you did back then (the extent of his memory makes you a bit warm) despite your own business. Not just cooking, but fulfilling his own requests and helping around the dorm/his research. You didn't have to do all that for him, and when his younger self questioned you about it, what was your response? Because you wanted to, you'd say with a smile. So, it is no different for him now, it is because he wants to (with the addition of his love for you, but that doesn't need to be said out loud.) So don't worry about the frivolous things and focus on eating.

I imagine even though the segments don't need to eat, reader still tries to feed them some of their food, to get the whole homely dinner part of it - you don't take no for an answer so they do give in eventually. (They definitely prefer the dessert part of dinner.) Dottore on the other hand, would prefer to focus entirely on you rather than fulfill his dietary needs, which you don't like of course - one, because obviously you don't want him skipping meals, and two, it'd be a nice feeling, an old married couple eating dinner together. And so, though he really doesn't understand your point, if it'll help you eat some more, he'll do it. It brings back memories from centuries ago, the two of you snacking on something cheap for dinner because you were too lazy to cook for once, but it was still quite delicious since it was shared between the two of you.

[liliacamethyst]

Web of Secrets - Miguel O'Hara 

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader

words: 3.7K

warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine, smut

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

In your universe, you are known as the Sun Spider. It all started on a school field trip to a solar energy research center, where you were accidentally exposed to a spider that had been subjected to intense solar radiation. You woke up with a white-hot surge of power, and your life changed forever. You donned a suit of pure white, taking the name that reflected both your newfound abilities and the brightness you brought into the world: Spider-Sun.

Your ability to harness solar energy and transform it into powerful blasts or create protective shields made you a formidable superhero in your home city, Nea Yorkey. Your ability to bring light to even the darkest corners of your city earned you the love of its citizens.

However, everything changed when you were suddenly pulled into the Spider-Verse.

Upon arriving, you were greeted by the gruff leader of this interdimensional team of Spider-People, Miguel O'Hara. His reputation preceded him - the genius intellect, the imposing figure, the gruff demeanor. Everyone respected him, and some even feared him. You, on the other hand, were drawn to him. There was something about that guarded demeanor that called to your own sunny nature.

You became an integral part of the team, fighting off anomalies and working hard to maintain the balance in the Spider-Verse. And despite Miguel's stern exterior, you felt yourself falling for him.

One mission was particularly rough, and you found yourself alone with Miguel in a safe house, nursing your wounds. His usually stern face softened as he tended to your injuries. The distance that he usually maintained was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, Miguel," you whispered.

He looked at you, his usually hard eyes soft. "You fought well, mi sol."

There was a moment of silence, a strange tension hanging in the air. Then, Miguel leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with unexpected passion.

In that moment, you were not the Sun Spider, and he was not the Spider-Man 2099. You were just two people, seeking solace in each other.

Afterwards, as you laid side by side, Miguel turned to you, a serious look on his face. "This...this can't be more than what it is. Just...you know, stress relief," he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

His words wounded you. Naturally, they did. He had reduced your relationship to mere stress relief, as if you were some object devoid of feelings. Yet, in spite of it all, you fell for him. Perhaps you were naive, even foolish, but you didn't care. You yearned for him and were ready to accept any fraction of affection he was willing to offer, no matter how small.

During the day, as you fought alongside him against the anomalies threatening the Spider-Verse, his attention toward you was sparse. He mostly shared only necessary information, barely making eye contact. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, and you and the rest of the team would receive mission orders and briefings from Lyla, his AI assistant.

But at night, when the two of you were alone, he became a different person. He'd whisper praises into your ear, telling you how exceptionally you fought, how much he desired you. He showed you his hidden vulnerability under the cover of darkness, the sheets their only witness. He'd gently stroke your hair and peppered your jaw and temple with kisses until you fell asleep, only for you to wake up the next morning to an empty, cold spot where he once lay.

This cycle - his coldness by day, and the fervor by night - repeated itself relentlessly for months.

And so, this is how you find yourself: disoriented, frenzied, and on the verge of tears, seated on the couch of your best friend, Peter B. Parker, in Earth-616. Cradled in your arms is his sweet daughter, Mayday, who, with her innocent touch, tries to console you. Yet her wide eyes dart anxiously to her father, reflecting her own alarm at your distress.

Peter rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe we should wait until MJ gets home?" he suggests, then, with a furrowed brow, he asks, “Have you tried talking to Jess about this?”

You shake your head vigorously. "No, I haven't told anyone. I have no idea what to do," you confess, your voice breaking.

Peter, ever the caring friend, gently takes Mayday from your arms and sets her down. He turns back to face you with a sympathetic gaze. “Do you..eh.. know who the father is?” he inquires softly.

You shake your head again, even though deep down, you know the truth. “The father is out of the picture. He doesn’t know, and he never will because he doesn’t want kids,” you whisper, fighting back tears.

As you and Peter sit down on the couch in his cozy living room, you find a sense of comfort being around him. His experience as both a superhero and a parent seems like it could be a beacon in this storm you're facing. The room is quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall.

“You know, Peter,” you begin, your voice almost a whisper. “I’m terrified. What if the baby has powers? How am I going to protect them, especially if...if I can’t stop fighting anomalies?”

Peter looks thoughtful. “That’s a valid concern. First, you should know that you don’t have to do this alone. There’s a whole community of us, and we stick together. If the child does have powers, she or he will be badass like Mayday, right?”

You nod slowly but then anxieties pile on top of each other in your mind. “But... how can I hide this? Nobody and I mean nobody is supposed to know that I’m pregnant. Especially not...” You trail off, not finishing the sentence.

Peter rubs his chin, deep in thought. “We could look into modifying your suit, maybe talk to some tech geniuses in the Spider-Verse about creating something that can shield or conceal the pregnancy.”

You roll your eyes. “That kinda defies the ‘nobody is allowed to know ‘ordeal, Peter. You have to promise me that this stays between us.”

“I promise,” Peter says sincerely.

Silence fills the room again, and then you voice another fear. “Peter, what if...what if I’m not a good mother? What if I mess this up?”

Peter smiles warmly. “You know, I had those same fears when Mayday was born. I think it’s normal for any parent. But, take it from me, the fact that you’re worried about being a good parent means you’re already on the right track. You’ve got a good heart. Trust it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers interlaced. “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he says with a reassuring smile. “We’re family, in this weird, Spider-Verse kind of way. But maybe… and I am sayig this as a father myself… reconsider telling the father. I can’t imagine any guy wanting to give up this.” He says, pointing to his precious daughter playing with a napkin she found on the floor.

"Maybe you should reconsider telling the father," Peter's words are echoing in your mind like a haunting melody. A part of you yearns for that possibility. Perhaps you're not alone in this. Maybe, just maybe, Miguel wants this as much as you do.With newfound resolve, you set off for the Spider-Verse headquarters, expecting to find Miguel tucked away in his office, immersed in maintaining the spider verse or as he calls it "arachno- something-multiverse-thingy” or something similar to that.

Upon reaching his office door, you pound on it sharply. No response. Frowning, you knock again, a little harder this time. When silence continues to greet you, you slowly turn the doorknob and peek inside. There he is, hunched over his desk, lost in a world of numbers and codes.

"Miguel, I-" you start, but his sharp voice cuts you off.

"No," he interrupts, his tone cold. "Did I say you can come in? Dios mio, why are you always so damn clingy?"

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at him, taken aback by his blatant disregard for your feelings. You can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you will them away.

He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it like that. This mantra plays over and over in your head, like a broken record. You take a deep breath, forcing down the hurt his words cause.

"Look, Miguel," you begin, struggling to keep your voice steady. "There’s something we need to talk about, and I think it's important for you to listen to me."

“Fucking hell, woman! What exactly don’t you understand. I’m busy. I don’t care about your little problems, right now.” he barks, not even looking up.

“Miguel,” you speak up, forcing the words out through clenched teeth, “ I’ve never asked anything from you. Not once have did I ask you to stay, to feel the same I feel, to fucking talk to me when people are around. Please all I am asking you is to just ... listen to me, fpr once.” Your voice grows stronger as you speak, a determined fire igniting within you.

Miguel finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he seems taken aback by the resolve he saw there.

He rubs his temples. “Can we do this later?”

“No!” you shout. “It’s always later with you. You’re like...like a ghost. Just a figure in the hallway. I don’t need a figure, I need a person! I need someone who listens when...”

He glares at you, his eyes narrowing. “Okay, okay I will listen just not now. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” you retort, your voice shaking a bit. “Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, you just brush me off? Am I that insignificant to you?”

He stands up abruptly, the chair skidding behind him. “This? This is what you want to talk about?” he says with a tone of annoyance. “Look, I have a million things to deal with and-”

“And what? And I’m not one of them? Just five minutes, Miguel! That’s all I ask!”

The room is tense. Your heart is racing. His eyes are fiery. It's a standoff.

“And what is so important that you have to disrupt everything right now?” he challenges.

Your breath catches in your throat. This is it. You're about to say it.

“I...” you stammer. “I need to tell you that...”

Suddenly, the door to the office swings open and Jess storms in.

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of your tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Miguel seems to shake off the tension and slips back into commander mode. “No nothing important. What’s happening in Sector 12?”

You can't believe it. Just like that, he turns away. It feels like your heart is being squeezed.

Jess starts rattling off data and scenarios. The two of them are talking, but you don’t hear it anymore. All you can think of is how you almost told him. How you just wanted five minutes.

Your hands shake and you quietly step out of the room. The door closes behind you, and it feels like a chapter that you can’t read has been sealed away.

The next day you are on Earth-8311, an anthropomorphic animal-dominated universe. It's the home of Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham, and you can't help but find it amusing.

The mission: to transport an anomaly, which resembles an enormous floating jellyfish, back to its home universe. It's been pure chaos here, and you are determined to set things right.

The team: Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker. You're all in your suits, eyes sharp, and webs at the ready.

"Alright, Spiders. Let's round this jelly up and send it home," Peter B. Parker takes charge, shooting a web towards a nearby building.

You swing alongside him, your thoughts a whirlwind. The world around you blurs - the animal citizens, the bustling cityscape, the strange yet familiar surroundings.

The anomaly appears before you, thrashing and pulsating as it floats through the sky. It releases blasts of energy that ripple through the air.

"Watch out, Sunny!" Gwen calls out as she dodges a blast.

You, however, are a split second too late. Your reflexes are off, your movements sluggish. The blast sends you spiraling towards the ground.

Hobie swings in and catches you mid-air, his guitar strapped on his back. “Get it together, Sun!” he shouts over the noise, his punk-styled hair waving wildly.

You shake off your daze and look up to see Peter B. Parker shooting webs to pull the anomaly back down, while Gwen is deploying a device to open a portal back to its home universe.

Your heart races as you focus on the task at hand. You need to get this right, not just for yourself, but for the life you’re now carrying. Your suit seems to glow even brighter in the chaos.

With a final combined effort, you manage to lasso the anomaly and push it through the portal. The anomaly disappears, and the portal closes behind it.

The team regroups on a rooftop. Gwen is catching her breath, Hobie is tuning his guitar, and Peter B. Parker gives you a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Gwen asks, her voice laced with worry. “You weren’t yourself up there.”

The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels unbearable. But you're not ready to share it.

“Promise me you won’t tell Miguel about this,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Gwen raises an eyebrow, while Hobie crosses his arms. Peter B. Parker simply nods.

“Nah, Bossman doesn’t need to know about this,” Hobie says, and there’s a firmness in his voice that is strangely comforting.

Back in the HQ, your head spins, and your stomach feels like it's doing somersaults. You mumble a quick excuse about feeling nauseous and practically sprint to the nearest restroom.

Meanwhile, Gwen, Hobie, and Peter B. Parker head to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.

As they sit down at a table with their trays, Gwen breaks the silence. “Is it okay if I say that this mission was kind of easy? Like, I’ve seen Sunny take down Doc Ock from Earth-818, and she did that without any problem. So what was that today?” Gwen’s concern is apparent.

Hobie, munching on a sandwich, nods in agreement. "Yeah, it's like her spidey senses were jammed or somethin'. Never seen her like that before."

Peter B. Parker looks thoughtfully at his sandwich, then glances up at Gwen and Hobie. He’s torn, having promised you to keep your secret but also wanting your friends to understand why you were off your game.

"You guys remember when she fought Morlun on Earth-001? She was a totally smashin’ it, and today, she nearly got turned into spider-paste by a floating jellyfish. That ain’t right," Hobie adds.

Gwen’s eyes suddenly widen. "Oh my God! Do you think she’s in trouble? Like, something from her universe? Or maybe she's having an identity crisis! Should we stage an intervention?"

Peter B. Parker clears his throat. “Maybe she’s just having an off day.”

Gwen’s eyes narrow as she scrutinizes Peter. “You know something, don’t you?”

Peter scratches the back of his head, obviously uncomfortable. “Nope, no idea.”

Hobie puts down his sandwich and leans in. "Oi, mate. Spill your guts. There's something dodgy going on. She's always been our burst of sunshine, lifting the mood. But now she's... dimmed. What's going on with our Sunny, Parker?"

Before Peter B. Parker could answer Gwen’s barrage of questions, Jess - Spider-Woman - appears, her belly showing. She takes a seat at the table and, oblivious to the serious conversation that was taking place, asks them about their latest mission.

"So, how did your mission go?" Jessica asks, while munching on her Burger.

"Nothing to report, Jess," Gwen answers, a little too quickly, her face all sunshine and false smiles. Peter simply nod in agreement.

“Yah, all good!” Hobie chimes in, flashing a grin that seems a little too bright.

“How about you? How are you holding up?” Peter asks Jess, trying to steer the conversation away from the mission.

Jessica shrugs, not overly concerned, and bites into her burger. "'M good. You know,  I'm so glad I can finally eat a burger again. At the beginning of my pregnancy, practically every food made me nauseous, especially after swinging around on missions.”

Suddenly, there's a moment of collective realization among Gwen, Hobie. It’s as if their spider senses are tingling in unison. They exchange knowing looks, all of them silently putting the pieces together.

Gwen’s eyes are wide, Hobie’s eyebrows are raised, and they both turn to look at Peter, who simply nods.

Jess, noticing the silent exchange, squints at them. “What is up with you guys? You’re acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.”

“Uh, nothin’!” Hobie says, a little too quickly.

“Yeah, just tired from the mission,” Gwen adds, trying to play it cool.

Jess rolls her eyes and stands up. “Alright, weirdos. I’m gonna go find some normal people to talk to,” she says jokingly and walks away.

After she leaves, the trio leans in.

“Sunny’s pregnant, isn’t she?” Gwen whispers.

Hobie's eyes are as wide as saucers. “That would explain everything!”

Peter B. Parker nods. “We need to be there for her, but remember, it’s her news to share when she’s ready.”

They make a pact to support you without pushing you to reveal anything before you're ready.

As you walk back into the cafeteria, you find your friends huddled together. They break apart when they see you and welcome you back with smiles and light conversation, but something in their demeanor is different but you can’t put your finger on it. They are being more attentive, considerate, and frankly, a little too curious about your well-being.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sunny?" Gwen asks for the third time since you sat down. Her concern is genuine, but her intensity is slightly off-putting.

"Yeah, do you need anything?" Hobie offers, his eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity. "Food, drink, or maybe... pickles?" Pickles? Thats oddly specific.

There's a burst of laughter from Gwen, and even Peter is suppressing a chuckle.

"What's up with the pickles?" You ask, looking at them suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" Gwen says, a little too quickly, trying to hold back her laughter.

"Hmm, pickles and ice cream, a weird combo, innit?" Hobie wonders aloud, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Again, there's suppressed laughter, and you look at each of them, a realization slowly dawning on you. You turn to Peter, your gaze steady and serious. "You told them, didn't you?" Peter looks shocked, but quickly composes himself. "I didn't exactly tell them, per se," he confesses, "I might've confirmed their suspicions when they asked, but they figured it out on their own. Spider senses and all that jazz.”

Before you could respond, Gwen and Hobie jump in, both talking over each other in an attempt to apologize.

"We're sorry, Sunny," Gwen says sincerely. "We didn't mean to invade your privacy, it's just that... we're worried about you. Please don’t be mad."

Hobie nods, adding, "And we're right behind ya, whatever comes our way. We've got your back, no doubt about it."

You are happy, while the situation isn't ideal, but at least you're not alone. You have friends who care about you and, despite their unconventional way of showing it, they are there for you. You smile, comforted by their concern, and grateful for their support.

"Yeah," you finally say, "I guess we’re gonna need a lot more pickles and ice cream around here, huh?"

“Sooo...who’s the dad? Is he hot?” Gwen, leaning on the table with her elbows, asks shyly after a while.

You let out a long sigh, “He’s very hot... but also a colossal jerk.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “You took my advice and talked to him then?”

You shake your head, your eyes starting to well up. “No, I tried. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He was busy, and I guess I wasn’t important enough. So, the baby won’t be either,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hobie's eyes narrow, and his face is flushed with anger. "Who's this bloke, eh? I swear on me nan's grave, I'll give him a right proper earful! No one treats our Sunny like a tosser and gets away with it!"

Gwen jumps in, her eyes wide with speculation, “Wait, is he a Spider? Is it Peter? Or the other Peter? Or—”

“Guys, guys!” you cut them off, your voice cracking. “Please, it doesn’t matter. He made it clear where I stand, and it’s not with him.”

There’s a silence that settles over the table as your friends look at each other and then back to you. Their faces are a mix of concern, sadness, and frustration.

Peter B. is the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to go through this alone. You’ve got us. If the dad doesn’t want to step up, then he’s missing out on something amazing.”

Gwen nods, her eyes firm with resolve. “Yeah, we’re family. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Hobie, still fuming, finally calms down enough to say, "All you gotta do is whistle, love, and we'll be there in a blink. Even if it means thumping some manners into this mystery idiot."

You can't help but crack a small smile, despite the tears. You’re overwhelmed by the love and support your friends are giving you.

“Thanks, guys. You don't know how much this means to me.” 

They all reach out and there’s a group hug right in the middle of the cafeteria. You didn’t know how much you needed this until it happened.

Part 2 “Webs of Fate”

a/n: Thank you guys for all your love on this fic so far.I really appreciate each like, comment, reblog <3. I still can’t reply to your comments so please if you want to tagged (and are not already) comment on part 2 and I’ll do my best and add you.Also I am open to requests, critic and wishes. Have a wonderful day. xx

[dollfacediaries]

Light in the darkness

Pairings: grumpy!bucky x sunshine!nurse!f!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, a bit of asshole bucky, hurt to comfort, kind of enemies to lovers but it’s mostly buck, no reader physical description so can be read as any appearance, female reader

A/N: got inspired to write this one after i came across @apparentlytheproblem account and enemies to lovers prompt list. there is a lot of good stuff there so i thank her for motivating me to write this, I used some of the prompts from that list, they will be highlighted in the fic. also got the trope inspiration from @buckyalpine (I absolutely love your writing) this fic here I absolutely love it, with perfect amount of angst and cuteness please go read it!! anyways enough of my yapping, enjoy reading!!<3 (also please listen to these two in this order for more feels, I myself was listening to them while writing this and omfg it got me in the feeeels)

The infirmary of the Avengers compound is a well-lit, sterile environment, but you've managed to make it warm with your presence.

Cute little potted plants all over that were practically your babies, small fidgeting gadgets for anyone to fidget with (particularly for Bruce and Tony), small snacks placed in different containers scattered around the infirmary (frequently emptied by Tony), and a few stuffed animals placed here and there, all meant to make the space less intimidating.

You’ve always been a naturally optimistic person, someone who sees the best in everyone and everything. The Avengers compound, with its high-stakes missions and often tense atmosphere, was a perfect place for you to share your sunny disposition.

The team appreciated it—your laughter, your kindness, your unwavering positivity. They said you were a breath of fresh air, a light in the often dark world they navigated.

Every day, you greet the team with a cheerful smile, your laughter echoing through the corridors like a soothing melody. Everyone seems to love you—everyone except for Bucky Barnes.

From the moment Bucky set foot in the compound, he knew he was out of place. Haunted by his past, he kept his distance from everyone, preferring the silence and solitude of his own company, he mostly stuck to Steve and would occasionally have a Sam-sized problem hanging behind him.

He barely speaks to anyone, and when he does, it’s usually to snap or grumble. With you, he’s even worse. There’s an edge to his voice, a coldness in his eyes that seems to cut through your sunny disposition like a knife.

When he first saw you, with your bright smile and cheerful demeanor, he felt a strange pang in his chest—a mix of longing and irritation.

You were everything he felt he could never be again: light-hearted, carefree, a beacon of hope in a world that still felt foreign and hostile to him.

A world where he was still hated by some- or many.

Every time you laughed, it reminded him of what he had lost, of the darkness that had claimed his tortured and scarred soul. He hated that feeling, that reminder, and by extension, he hated that you were the one to evoke it.

From the moment you met him, he seemed determined to extinguish your light. His coldness was a stark contrast to your warmth, his gruff demeanor a perpetual challenge to your cheerful one.

At first, you chalked it up to his history, his need for time to adjust and heal. You were patient, giving him space while still trying to make him feel welcome.

Every day, you made small efforts to connect with him. You brought him coffee with extra sugar, hoping the gesture would soften his grumpy exterior. You cracked light-hearted jokes, trying to coax a smile out of him. You even complimented his metal arm, not out of pity, but genuine admiration. Yet, every attempt was met with indifference or a sharp retort.

Your jokes were often greeted with a curt nod or a dismissive grunt, and your compliments seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, his eyes narrowing as if questioning your sincerity.

Despite your efforts Bucky kept his distance and rejected. When you brought him coffee with extra sugar, he grumbled about preferring it black.

“I prefer my coffee black,” he would say, barely looking at you as he set the cup aside, not noticing the hurt look on your face.

When you made light-hearted jokes, he responded with curt nods or dismissive remarks. When you complimented his metal arm, he saw it as pity, a reminder of his brokenness. Your persistent cheerfulness was like a spotlight on his scars, and he resented you for it.

But deep down, Bucky knew that his anger wasn't really directed at you. It was aimed at himself, at the man he used to be and the man he thought he could never become again.

Your presence forced him to confront emotions he had buried deep within himself—emotions he didn't know how to handle. Every time you tried to break through his defenses, it was like a chisel chipping away at the walls he had built around his heart, and it terrified him.

Each brush-off, each cold response, chipped away at your resolve, leaving you more confused and hurt.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung; it was the feeling that you were the only one he treated this way.

Everyone else seemed to get along with him fine, or at least, they didn’t bear the brunt of his sharp edges. You couldn’t understand why you were the exception, why he seemed to harbor a special kind of disdain just for you.

You tried not to let it show, maintaining your sunny facade for the sake of the team. But inside, every encounter with Bucky left a small, invisible wound.

You would smile through the pain, and laugh through the hurt, but the weight of his rejection grew heavier with each passing day.

Nights were the hardest, lying in bed replaying your interactions, wondering what you had done to earn his ire. Wondering and thinking where you went wrong, blaming everything on yourself.

And yet, despite the pain, you found yourself drawn to him. Maybe it was the challenge he represented, the mystery of his cold exterior, and the glimpses of vulnerability you occasionally saw.

There were moments, fleeting and rare, where you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a hint of sorrow, a flicker of regret. Those moments made you wonder about the man beneath the armor, the soul behind the scowl.

Gradually, your frustration and sadness turned into something more complex.

You began to care for him, despite his harshness.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was upset, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, the way he fiddled with either his dog tags around his neck or his sleeve when he would get anxious, the way the sound of any whirring machine close to him would subtly make him jump.

You saw the pain he carried, the ghosts that haunted him, and your heart ached for him.

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to show him that he didn’t have to face his demons alone.

But every time you tried, he pushed you away, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Your feelings grew in the quiet moments, in the way you found yourself thinking about him even when he wasn’t around, in the way your heart raced at the sound of his voice, even when it was laced with irritation.

You realized you were falling for him, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length.

You were falling for James Buchanan Barnes.

And he hated you.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you’re restocking the infirmary when the door slams open. You jump, nearly dropping a box of gauze.

When Bucky stumbled into the infirmary, bleeding and in pain, he didn't want to admit to himself why he came to you. He could have gone to anyone else, but something—an instinct, a need—drove him to seek you out.

Bucky stumbles in, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is pale, eyes dark with pain and something else—frustration? Anger? It’s hard to tell.

“Barnes!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. “What happened?”

A strange mix of emotions flooded you. Concern for his well-being, of course, but also a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment he finally let you in.

He grunts, shaking his head as if to dismiss your concern. “Just patch me up.”

You guide him to a bed, your hands surprisingly steady given the state he’s in. You quickly gather the necessary supplies, your mind racing with questions.

Why did he come to you? He usually avoids you like the plague, very often going to Helen instead of you no matter the severity of the injury.

As you begin to clean his wound, he hisses, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your tone soft.

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those intense baby-blue eyes. It’s unnerving, but you refuse to let it shake you. Instead, you focus on your work, your movements gentle yet efficient.

Bucky watched you work with a mixture of frustration and awe. Your hands were gentle, your touch soothing, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel vulnerable in your presence.

As you stitch him up, the silence between you grows heavier, filled with unspoken words and unexpressed emotions.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You wrap up the last of his wound and look him straight in the eye. “Bucky, why do you hate me so much?” your voice trembled with frustration and hurt.

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your question and his response took you by surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

You blink for a second and then scoff, shaking your head, trying to process his words. “You could’ve fooled me. You’ve been nothing but cold and an asshole since the day we met. I just don’t get it. Everyone else likes me, but you. You go out of your way to avoid me like I'm some plague! You always brush me off rudely and call me a bother when I try speaking to you only to speak with the others like it's nothing! You can't even give me the decency of respect, you pretend that I don't even exist!."

You stop, realizing you have almost gone to shouting, and take a deep breath in.

"Why?" your voice is quiet and broken, hurt and horse. Your eyes glazing with unshed tears,

Bucky felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He wanted to push you away, to keep you at a distance where you couldn't hurt him. Where he couldn't hurt you with his broken soul, and the demons from his past.

But the heart-shattering sadness on your usually lit-up face, made him also want to pull you closer, to let you in and see the parts of him he kept hidden. It was a battle between his fear and his longing, and for the first time, he felt the fear of losing.

Specifically, losing you.

“I’m not...used to feeling this way, okay?” he snaps, the admission seeming to cost him. His jaw clenches, and he looks away, refusing to meet your gaze.

For the first time, you saw something other than anger in his eyes.

Vulnerability.

Fear.

“Feeling what way?” you press, your voice shaking slightly, your frustration bubbling over. “What did I ever do to you?”

He’s silent for a long moment, the tension in the room almost suffocating. Finally, he lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his emotions pressing down on him. “I feel the opposite of hate...towards you,” he admitted, his voice raw and honest.

The revelation left you breathless. All this time, you thought he despised you, but in reality, he was struggling with feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Your heart ached for him, for the battles he fought within himself.

He watched your eyes widen in surprise, your mind trying to process his words.

The words hang in the air, and you can hardly believe your ears. “You...what?” your voice barely a whisper.

Bucky turns to face you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. “You heard me. I don’t hate you., far from it. You’re always so...bright and happy. It messes with my head. Makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. You make me realize that I can feel a romantic attraction towards someone, you make me realize that I can have some goodness in life. You make me feel want. To want something and not feel selfish.”

You blink, trying to process his confession. “You...want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Without hesitation, he answers, “You know I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face, and for the first time in a long while, Bucky felt a glimmer of hope.

The weight of his confession settled over you, bringing with it a mixture of relief and tenderness. You smiled a slow, genuine smile that lit up your face. “Such a pretty liar, mhmm. And here I stressed over that you hated me.” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, his usual gruff demeanor softening.

He grumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. It’s hesitant at first as if you’re both testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, the pent-up emotions of the past months pouring out in that one perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the hidden feelings, the pain and hope intertwined.

When you leaned in and kissed him, it was like a dam breaking. All the emotions he had bottled up for so long—fear, longing, hope—flooded out in that one perfect moment.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt at peace.

As the kiss deepened, Bucky knew that things wouldn’t be easy. He still had a long way to go, and there were still demons he needed to face. But with you by his side, he felt a renewed strength, a reason to keep fighting.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in years: happiness. Maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his past mistakes. With you, he could be the man he once was—the man he wanted to be.

You pulled back, breathless and smiling, and a little dazed, you knew that this was just the beginning. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you felt like you had a chance to break through his walls, to reach the man behind the mask.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “Maybe you’re not such a grump after all.”

Bucky smirks, a rare but genuine smile lighting up his face. “Don’t push your luck.”

You giggle, the sound like music to his ears.

As you finish bandaging his wounds, the atmosphere between you has shifted. There’s a new understanding, a connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe things won’t be easy, and maybe Bucky will always be a bit of a grump, but you’re determined to be his sunshine, to bring light into his dark world.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you.

Bucky's confession had changed everything. In the days following that night in the infirmary, his demeanor towards you began to shift.

The once icy wall he maintained seemed to melt slightly, and while he wasn't exactly warm, there was a newfound softness in his eyes when he looked at you.

Still, the past months of his coldness and hostility left a lingering tension between you, a wound that needed healing.

You knew that a kiss and a confession would not be enough to cure his long-standing hostility toward you; you knew you both needed to have a conversation.

One evening, you stayed late at the compound, finishing up some paperwork in the infirmary. The sun had long set, casting the room in a dim, serene glow from the soft lights overhead.

You were engrossed in your work when you heard a knock at the door. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there, looking hesitant and unsure. Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and wariness flooding you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside.

“Hey there you,” you replied softly, setting your pen down. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the white chair, that currently had a cute Dumbo plush placed on it. Bucky grabbed the plush before sitting down and placed it in his lap, fidgeting with the ears, his large frame taking up more space than usual, his presence filling the room.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see he was struggling to find the right words.

“I’ve been an asshole,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

You watched him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Bucky-”

He held up a hand, stopping you. “Please, let me finish, I've been wanting to say this for a while because you deserve an apology. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me, and I repaid you with coldness and cruelty. I pushed you away because...because I was scared. Scared of what I was feeling, scared of getting close to someone again. I know my behavior is not to be excused but I'm being honest doll." he pleaded.

You swallowed hard, the raw honesty in his words touching something deep inside you. “I get it, Bucky. But it still hurt.”

“I know,” he said, his voice pained.

He stepped towards you, gently taking your gentle hands into his calloused ones and continuing to speak while tracing patterns on your skin with his thumb, the gesture comforting him. “And I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. What I can do is promise to make it up to you. I want to show you that you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a tentative hope blooming within you. “How do you plan to do that?”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. “By being there for you, by treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I want to make you happy, sweetness. I want to be the man you see in me, the man you’ve been so kind and patient with.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity and determination in his voice. “Oh Buck…”

“I crave you, doll,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I crave your touch, your smile, your laughter. Every part of you. I’ve tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore. I need you.”

The intensity of his confession left you breathless. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I need to know you mean it,” you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt.

He covered your hand with his, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll spend every day of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. More intense than the last one. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up emotions and longing that had been building between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You really want this? You really want me?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “You have no idea how much.”

A slow smile spread across your face, a mixture of relief and joy washing over you. “Well then, show me, Barnes.”

He grinned, a rare and genuine smile that made your heart soar. “With pleasure.”

He kissed you again, this time with even more passion and intensity. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, any distance in between being excruciating. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured all your emotions into the kiss. It was a promise, a beginning, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly hopeful.

As the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “You won’t regret this, doll. I promise.”

“I believe you,” you whispered, feeling the truth of his words in your heart.

The moment of intimacy is shattered by the sound of cheering and whooping from the doorway. Startled, you both turn to see Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Sam standing there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous teenagers who had just witnessed their friends’ first kiss.

“Finally!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I thought I was going to have to script it out for you two. Turns out Terminator actually has the balls to confess." he snickered, seizing a snack packet of dried blueberries and munching on them.

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Took you long enough, Barnes. We were beginning to think you’d never make a move.” the redhead pauses and winks at you.

Steve steps forward, a proud smile on his face. “About time, punk. I knew you had it in you.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking the Winter Soldier was all cold and no heart. Looks like our sunshine melted the ice.”

You feel your face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and amusement washing over you. Bucky, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Do you guys mind?”

Tony steps forward, still grinning and munching on his snack. “Not at all. We’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I mean, the tension was practically killing us.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “It was like watching a bad rom-com where the leads are too stubborn to admit they like each other.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, enjoy the show. It’s over now.”

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it’s over. I think it’s just getting started.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. Now, can we have a moment?”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll leave you lovebirds alone. But don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

He turns to you and points at the packet in his hand, "Also thanks for this sweets," and struts out.

As the group begins to disperse, Natasha gives you a wink. “We’re happy for you, babe. You deserve it.”

Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder. “Good job, Buck.”

Once they’re gone, you turn back to Bucky, who’s shaking his head, a look of exasperated affection on his face. “I swear, they’re worse than a bunch of kids.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think it’s sweet. They care about us.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, well, as long as I get you to myself now.”

You lean in, brushing your lips against his. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

As you kiss him again, the echoes of your friends’ teasing fade away, leaving just the two of you in the warm, comforting glow of newfound love.

With that, you knew that this was the start of something new, something beautiful. It wouldn’t be easy, but together, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[soulofapatrick]

They Find Out You're Pregnant: One Piece Boys

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 5.7K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

Y/N's POV

The scent of sizzling spices fills the air as Sanji orchestrated a culinary symphony in the Thousand Sunny’s kitchen. His deft hands move with practiced grace, a dance that spoke of passion and expertise but for once his cooking wasn’t what got my attention. I’m sidling around Sanji, who’s lost in his world of sizzling pans and aromatic spices. The kitchen is his main, a place where he commands both ingredients and flames with the finesse of a maestro. Today, however, my attention isn’t fixed on his culinary mastery. It’s drawn, instead, to the sizeable tub of salted caramel ice cream tucked away in the freezer, calling to me with its irresistible allure. 

With a casual lean, I snag a spoon from the drawer and make a beeline for the freezer. The cold air greets me as I retrieve the tub, feeling its frosty chill through the container. My taste buds dance in anticipation; there’s something about this particular flavour that has become inexplicably magnetic. 

Returning to the kitchen island, I take a seat, propping myself up on one of the stools, spoon in hand. Sanji, ever engrossed in his culinary creation, doesn’t seem to notice my ice cream indulgence. He moves with a fluidity that’s almost hypnotic, each movement deliberate and purposeful. 

I twist off the lid of the ice cream tub, the gentle scent of caramel filling the air. With a satisfying clink, the spoon dips into the creamy goodness, gathering a generous scoop. As I lift it to my lips, the richness of the caramel mixed with the slight saltiness dances on my taste buds, a delightful sensation that brings an unexpected comfort.

Glancing over at Sanji, I marvel at his expertise. Despite my seemingly distracted state, his instincts as a chef seem to extend beyond just the realm of cooking. His attention to detail is impeccable, noticing even the subtlest shifts in preferences. Sanji hums a tune under his breath, his focus unwavering. I continue to enjoy my impromptu dessert, relishing the smooth, cold sweetness against the backdrop of Sanji's culinary artistry. 

As Sanji begins to fry food, the enticing aroma of spices fills the air once more. He orchestrates the sizzle and crackle of ingredients in a symphony of flavours, the tantalising scent mingling with the lingering sweetness of the ice cream. But as I sit there, spoon poised for another scoop, an unexpected wave of nausea washes over me. The once delightful taste of caramel now feels overwhelming. With a sudden heaviness, I place the tub of ice cream on the counter, the thud echoing louder than intended.

Sanji glances over, concern etching into his features as he notices my abrupt change in demeanour. "Are you alright, my love?” His voice, laced with worry, cuts through the sounds of the kitchen.

I manage a weak nod, but the queasiness intensifies. Without another word, I push myself off the stool and dash towards the bin, my footsteps echoing in the galley. The retching sounds reverberate in the room, a stark contrast to the harmonious melody of Sanji's cooking. Embarrassment floods me as I lean against the counter, my breaths ragged, trying to steady myself. Sanji, ever the attentive soul, swiftly moves closer, concern etched in every line of his face.

“Maybe it’s… yeah, it’s the combination of flavours.” I manage between breaths, feeling utterly mortified at the sudden turn of events. An anxiety plating in the back of my mind as I’m late for my period and have been for a week now but that’s not that unusual with the resent stresses. 

Sanji's worry melts into understanding, his eyes softening with compassion. "It happens," he reassures, his hand resting gently on my back. "Sometimes, tastes change unexpectedly. Let's get you some water.” With Sanji’s comforting assurance, I try to shake off the unease gripping me. As he moves to fetch water, a sudden surge of panic knots my stomach. My mind races, the memory of my late period lingering like an unspoken secret.

“Sanji,” I blurt out, my voice quivering, catching him mid-step. His brows furrow in concern. As he turns back to me, his expression a blend of care and curiosity, “I’m late…” I manage to confess, my words stumbling out in a rush. Embarrassment and anxiety collide, painting a flush across my cheeks. 

“Late…?” His voice trails off as he tries to understand me, brows furrowed. 

I tug gently at his wrist, feeling a desperate need for support, for someone to share this unexpected worry with. "I don't know what to do, Sanji. It’s been a week, and… and I don't know if it’s just stress or…”

With my confession hanging between us, Sanji's eyes widen in realisation, the pieces clicking together as my distress becomes palpable. Before either of us can utter another word, another wave of nausea overwhelms me, and I lurch towards the bin once more, heaving with a force that leaves me breathless. Sanji’s concern deepens as he rushes to my side, his hands instinctively reaching for a glass of water. "Here, drink this," he urges gently, his voice laced with worry.

Gasping for air, I manage to steady myself and accept the water, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Sanji's swift actions and unwavering support feel like an anchor in this sudden storm of uncertainty. 

”Come on," he says softly, guiding me towards the nearby couch, his arm securely wrapped around my shoulder. He kneels in front of me, his eyes searching mine with a mix of concern and care. "Are you sure?” 

I nod weakly, the weight of the moment heavy on my shoulders. "As sure as I can be," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Sanji's expression softens, his hand gently resting on mine. "We'll figure this out together," he assures, his voice filled with a determination to be there every step of the way, “I love you so much. We’re gonna be parents.” 

Y/N's POV

The sea breeze whips through my hair as I stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, watching the waves dance beneath the golden sunlight. Another adventure alongside Luffy and the crew—a thrilling escapade filled with laughter, battles and unforeseen challenges. 

But lately, there’s something different. A subtle fatigue creeps in, and I find myself yawning during moments of respite. It’s unlike me, the one who is usually brimming with boundless energy. Yet, I brush it off, attributing it to the rigorous journey. Each day brings its own set of adventures, and with it, an inexplicable weariness that shadows my every step. Yawning becomes a constant companion, stealing moments of wakefulness in between our exploits. Climbing rigging, engaging in battles, and exploring uncharted territories—all thrilling, yet each exertion seems to compound this unexplained exhaustion.

There's a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a whisper of something unfamiliar. It tugs at my thoughts during quiet moments, a persistent reminder that something isn’t quite as it should be. Yet, I struggle to grasp its elusive form, brushing it aside amidst the excitement of our journey. 

The crew carries on, oblivious to my inner turmoil, their spirits high as they revel in the thrill of the adventure. Luffy’s infectious laughter, Zoro’s unwavering determination, Nami’s calculating mind—all paint a vibrant picture against the backdrop of the vast ocean. Amidst the chaos and camaraderie, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment, a solitary island amidst the bustling sea. My fatigue persists, a constant companion whose origin remains an enigma.

Luffy, with his endless curiosity and knack for noticing the smallest details, seems to pick up on my weariness before I even acknowledge it. He catches me dozing off during our travels, his wide grin turning into a puzzled expression. 

"Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?" His voice, filled with genuine concern, cuts through the hustle and bustle of our adventurous escapades. 

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just a bit tired. It's nothing, really.” 

Luffy's concern persists, evident in the furrow of his brows as he gazes at me with unwavering attention. His wide, innocent eyes betray his curiosity, searching for answers that even I can't provide. "You sure?" He asks, his voice tinged with a childlike sincerity that tugs at my heartstrings. 

Luffy’s concern, like an unwavering beacon of warmth, persists despite my feeble attempts to brush off my weariness. He shifts closer, his arms encircling me in an unexpected but comforting embrace from behind. His embrace is gentle yet reassuring, as if he could shield me from the exhaustion I can't shake. I can't help but chuckle softly at the suddenness of his affection, feeling a sense of ease washing over me as I lean back slightly, finding an unexpected comfort in his embrace. The weariness that had been pulling me down seems to dissipate for a moment, the warmth of his care a soothing balm to my tired soul.

But even amidst this comfort, Luffy’s intuition remains unyielding. His embrace lingers just a moment longer, his gaze still searching for answers, as if he could decipher the unspoken truths hidden behind my worn-out facade. His childlike sincerity tugs at my heart, urging me to share what I can't quite articulate.

"I'll be fine, Luffy," I say softly, trying to reassure both him and myself, though doubt niggles at the edges of my words. His concern is a testament to his unwavering loyalty and care, a reflection of the bonds we share as a crew. 

Despite my attempts at reassurance, Luffy's gaze holds a depth of understanding that transcends words. He doesn't press further, but the lingering concern in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent promise to stand by me, no matter what uncertainties lie ahead. And as we carry on with our adventures, I find solace in the unspoken support of a friend who seeks to understand even the mysteries hidden beneath a worn-out smile.

His wide eyes dart between mine, a silent conversation unfolding, his desire to understand evident in the furrow of his brows. And with that unspoken exchange, he reluctantly accepts my explanation, bounding off with a promise to resume our adventure. He heads off in the direction of Nami and Robin who are talking quietly, asking them something that has them squealing and gushing over something and the three begin tot talk animatedly but too far away for me to hear. 

It doesn’t take long for me to find out as Luffy’s is calling for my attention, “Hey, Y/N!” His voice is tinged with excitement. His finger points at something I hadn’t even noticed,— my slightly protruding belly, a subtle change that had slipped under my own radar as I just thought I had put on weight from the feasts Luffy makes Sanji make for us, “I think you’re gonna have a baby!” His exclamation echoes across the deck, his unfiltered joy a testament to his unique perspective on life. 

The crew halts, their expressions ranging from astonishment to joyous disbelief. I stand frozen, stunned by Luffy’s innocent declaration, a revelation that I had yet to fathom. In the moment that follows Luffy’s proclamation, a bewildering realisation sweeps over me. His words—“you’re gonna have a baby”—linger in the air, and as the crew's astonished gazes shift between us, it finally dawns on Luffy that he's not just declaring my news; he's announcing his own impending fatherhood. 

His wide eyes widen further, mirroring the astonishment painted across the faces of our crewmates. And then, in a flash of comprehension, a radiant grin spreads across Luffy's face, an uncontainable joy that sparks a cascade of laughter. "Wait, wait, wait! We're having a baby?!" His voice rings out, his expression a mix of disbelief and unadulterated happiness. 

Without another thought, Luffy bounds over to me, his infectious laughter filling the air. He scoops me up in his arms, spinning us both around in a whirlwind of uncontainable joy. Laughter erupts from him, a symphony of excitement and wonder as he revels in the revelation. "We're having a baby!" His exclamation echoes across the deck, a declaration that marks the beginning of a new, unforeseen chapter in our adventures. 

The crew, initially stunned by Luffy's proclamation, now erupts into cheers and congratulatory exclamations, their astonishment giving way to celebration. Amidst the whirlwind of laughter and cheers, Luffy's sheer delight becomes infectious, melting away any lingering shock. And as he continues to spin us both around, his joy becomes mine, intertwining our destinies in this unexpected, thrilling journey toward parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the Thousand Sunny. It's a peaceful afternoon, the gentle sway of the ship lulling me into a sense of tranquility amid our bustling adventures. Zoro, the swordsman of unwavering determination, has always possessed an uncanny ability to notice the subtlest of changes. Today, however, would mark the day he’d discern a change within me that I hadn't yet comprehended.

I find myself sitting at the ship's bow, the soothing melody of the waves a comforting companion as I stare out into the horizon. The day had started like any other, yet a lingering unease gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, a sense of unfamiliarity that dances just beyond reach.

Zoro’s presence, like a shadow eternally by my side, draws closer. He settles nearby, his stoic gaze fixed on the horizon. "Something on your mind?" His voice, gruff yet tinged with a subtle concern, pierces the calm.

I shake my head, trying to dismiss the disquiet that has nestled itself within me. "Just thinking," I reply with a forced smile, hoping to brush off the weight of my contemplation.

But Zoro, with his unwavering perceptiveness, doesn’t seem convinced. He turns slightly towards me, his gaze assessing, as if trying to decipher the unspoken layers of my thoughts. His eyes, a testament to his keen observation, seem to search for answers that even I'm not yet ready to acknowledge.

As the day stretches into twilight, I notice Zoro's observations becoming more pronounced. He notices the slightest changes—a subtle fatigue in my stance during practice, a hesitancy in my movements that betray a newfound caution.

"Training not going as planned?" he asks casually, a hint of curiosity laced in his words.

I chuckle softly, attempting to mask the undercurrent of uncertainty. "Just feeling a bit off today, I guess."

Under the tangerine hues of the evening sky, Zoro’s scrutiny becomes more palpable. Each swing of my practice sword seems to carry an unusual weight, my movements betraying a faltering rhythm I can't seem to shake. Zoro, a steadfast presence beside me, doesn’t miss a beat. His intense focus during our training sessions amplifies, his watchful gaze tracking every subtle shift in my stance, every hesitancy that sneaks into my strikes.

“Having trouble finding your footing?” His question, tossed casually into the air, holds a knowing undertone that catches me off guard. I offer a fleeting smile, a feeble attempt to cloak the turmoil brewing beneath the surface but I wave off his concerns. 

But Zoro, with his uncanny ability to read between the lines, doesn’t let the matter slide. His observant nature persists, his inquiries wrapped in the guise of casual conversation, yet laden with an unwavering determination to unravel the mystery veiled within my uncharacteristic unease. As the sun begins its descent, casting shadows that dance across the ship’s deck, Zoro’s gaze lingers, a silent sentinel amidst the encroaching dusk. His dedication to noticing the subtleties, the nuances that escape ordinary observation, serves as an unspoken reassurance in the face of my growing uncertainty.

The day had settled into a tranquil calmness, the colours of the sky merging into a breathtaking canvas of oranges and purples as the sun dipped toward the horizon. Zoro's concern had become a constant companion, a silent understanding that had evolved beyond mere words.

"Feeling better?" He asks one day, his voice holding a touch of solemnity that catches me off guard.

I hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Not quite myself, to be honest," I admit reluctantly, feeling a sense of relief in sharing even a fraction of my uncertainty.

Zoro’s expression softens imperceptibly, a rare gesture from the stoic swordsman. "If something's on your mind, you know you can talk about it, right?" His words, though simple, carry an unspoken promise of support. 

I lean into his touch, finding an unexpected solace in his gesture. Resting my head on his sturdy shoulder, we both gaze out at the horizon, where the sun casts its final golden rays over the endless expanse of water.The tranquility of the moment envelops us, a sanctuary within the tumultuous uncertainty. Words become unnecessary as the serenity of the scene seems to bridge the unspoken gap between us. The weight of my worries feels a little lighter, shared in the unspoken language of companionship and understanding.

“I think I’m pregnant.” I mumble and Zoro's hand, which had been gently clasping mine, tightens slightly at my confession. His gaze, usually steady and composed, flickers with a blend of surprise and an emotion I can't quite place. For a fleeting moment, the tranquility of our shared moment is replaced by a charged energy—an anticipation that crackles between us. His grip on my hand relaxes, only to shift purposefully, cupping my chin with a tenderness that catches me off guard. His eyes, a storm of emotions, meet mine, and without a word, he pulls me closer, closing the distance between us with a possessive intensity.

In that instant, our lips meet in a fervent kiss, a silent affirmation of the unspoken dreams that had nestled in the depths of our shared future. His kiss is filled with a passionate reassurance, a promise of unwavering support and a newfound sense of purpose that we hadn't realised we were seeking. 

As the golden hues of the setting sun paint the sky with their final strokes, our connection feels more profound than ever, transcending the unspoken barriers that once stood between us. The weight of my revelation seems to dissipate in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by an overwhelming sense of unity and anticipation for the journey ahead. 

When our lips finally part, the tranquility of the moment returns, albeit tinged with an exhilarating sense of possibility. Zoro’s eyes, though still reflecting surprise, hold an unwavering determination—a silent vow that together, we will embrace this new chapter, our shared future now intertwined with the unexpected joy of impending parenthood.

Y/N's POV

The Red Force sails calmly across the cast expanse of the sea, the ship’s sturdy frame cutting through the gentle waves with a reassuring rhythm. Shanks, the legendary and enigmatic pirate, is as astute as he is charismatic. Little did I know, he would be the first to sense the subtle shifts within me that heralded a new chapter in our lives. 

It begins with small gestures—a keen observation and a caring intervention—undetectable threats woven into the fabric of our daily interactions. Shanks, with his affable demeanour and keen intuition, notices the nuances I hadn’t yet recognised within myself. 

One tranquil evening aboard the ship, I reach for a glass of wine, eager to unwind after a day of adventure. Shanks, however, intercepts the bottle before I can take a sip from it, “Not tonight.” He murmurs with a gentle smile, his gaze filled with a knowing reassurance. 

Confusion clouds my features for a fleeting moment, but Shanks’ unwavering resolve speaks volumes. He offers no explanation, but his subtle gesture carries an unspoken wisdom that halts me in my tracks. A realisation flickers within me—an inkling that there might be more to Shanks’ intervention than meets the eye. 

As my hand instinctively reaches for the bottle once more, Shanks, with a graceful and deliberate motion, holds it just out of my grasp. His other arm, strong and reassuring, encircles my waist, drawing me closer until I’m pressed against him, our closeness enveloped by the gentle sway of the ship. Before I can voice my confusion or protest, Shanks silences any questions with a tender yet fervent kiss. His lips, a whisper against mine, convey a message that words couldn’t encapsulate—an unspoken reassurance, a depth of understanding that transcends any explanation.

Caught off guard by the unexpected intimacy of the moment, my initial confusion dissipates in the warmth of his embrace. There’s an inexplicable comfort in the way he holds me, in the way his lips mold against mine, as if he’s communicating a profound truth without uttering a single word. In that fleeting moment, amidst the whispers of the ocean breeze and the lull of the ship, I sense the depth of Shanks’ concern—a concern that goes beyond a simple denial of wine. His actions, though unconventional, carry an unspoken promise of protection, a silent vow to shield me from something I hadn’t yet comprehended.

As the tender moment lingers, Shanks whispers against my skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine. "Be a good girl and stick to water tonight," he murmurs, his voice laced with a mixture of playfulness and genuine concern. His words carry a cryptic weight, an allusion to something I've yet to fathom. His nose nuzzles against the curve of my neck, a gesture that feels both protective and intimate. "Don't want to hurt our prodigy," he adds, his tone hinting at a revelation that eludes my understanding.

Confusion and curiosity dance within me as Shanks kisses my jaw once more before releasing me. He walks away, the bottle of wine in hand, leaving me to decipher the enigmatic puzzle he has laid out. His cryptic words linger in the air, stirring a flurry of thoughts and emotions. "Hurt our prodigy?" I mull over the phrase, trying to unravel its meaning amidst the waves of uncertainty that crash within me.

The realisation dawns gradually—a glimmer of understanding emerging from the depths of my contemplation. Shanks’ words, though veiled in ambiguity, carry a hidden truth—a truth that I'm hesitant to acknowledge but can't dismiss. Could it be? The notion takes root tentatively within my thoughts, an unspoken realisation that I might be carrying something precious, something that Shanks, with his astute intuition, has sensed long before I even considered the possibility. 

In a whirlwind of emotions and burgeoning realisations, I sprint to Shanks’ private quarters aboard the ship. The air crackles with a blend of uncertainty and a burgeoning anticipation that propels me forward. Racing through the door, I almost tear my shirt off, desperation guiding my movements as I position myself before the mirror.

 With an anxious breath, I angle myself sideways, my eyes searching for the slightest hint of change. There it is—a subtle curve, a gentle swell that hadn’t been there before. My hand hesitantly hovers over my stomach, tracing the faint outline, a tangible proof of the truth that begins to solidify in my mind. 

Before I can fully grasp the enormity of the revelation, strong and familiar arms envelop me from behind, gently covering my hands that rest upon my stomach. Shanks, with a silent understanding that transcends words, rests his chin on my shoulder, a comforting presence in this whirlwind of emotions. Tears blur my vision, a mixture of disbelief and an overwhelming rush of emotions cascading through me. Shanks' quiet embrace, his unspoken support, serves as a grounding force amidst the storm of thoughts racing through my mind.

In the mirrored reflection, I glance at Shanks, my voice laden with uncertainty, "You're not upset?" His frown, reflected in the glass, catches me off guard, stirring a fresh wave of apprehension within me.

Shanks gently turns me around to face him, his expression softening into a gentle smile. "Upset? Y/N, I've never been more thrilled," he confesses, his voice a steady reassurance that eases the knot of worry in my chest. "I've wanted this with you, with all my heart.” His words, laden with sincerity and unwavering affection, wash over me like a soothing balm. In that tender moment, surrounded by the depth of his love and his longing for a future we hadn't anticipated, the flood of emotions begins to settle.

As I process his heartfelt confession, Shanks’ demeanour takes on a mischievous glint. "Now, why don’t you get undressed?" he suggests, his voice a playful tease, though his eyes burn with an intensity that stirs a different kind of heat within me. 

Surprised by the sudden shift in tone, my cheeks flush crimson. "Shanks, I..." I stammer, momentarily taken aback by his unexpected boldness but then again it was Shanks. But before I can protest further, his lips capture mine in a fervent kiss, a passionate affirmation of his desire and unwavering affection. His hands trail down my sides, urging me gently to comply with his playful suggestion. 

In that moment, amidst the emotions and revelations, a sense of exhilaration surges through me—a shared understanding that despite the unexpected turn of events, our love and passion for each other remain as fiery and unyielding as ever. And as we lose ourselves in the passionate embrace, the uncertainties and worries of impending parenthood momentarily fade into the background, replaced by an intense and intimate connection that binds us together in this newfound chapter of our lives.

Y/N's POV

The Thousand Sunny basks in the warm sunlight as a peaceful day unfolds on the seas. The tranquility is interrupted by the unexpected arrival of Dracule Mihawk, the enigmatic and formidable swordsman. His presence aboard our ship sends a ripple of curiosity among the crew, but for me, it's a moment of both surprise and delight. 

I rush to meet him as he steps aboard the ship, his sharp gaze meeting mine with an inscrutable intensity. His usual stoic demeanour remains unchanged, but a subtle warmth flickers in his eyes as he greets me with a restrained nod. 

“Mihawk.” I breathe, a mix of excitement and curiosity lacing my voice, “What brings you here?” 

He inclines his head slightly, his tone softening imperceptibly, “I wished to see you, nothing more.” As he speaks, I feel a pang of discomfort building within me—a sudden wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me. I try to hide it, but Mihawk's perceptive nature doesn't let it slip by unnoticed. His brow furrows ever so slightly, a minute indication of concern. "Are you feeling unwell?" he inquires, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic gentleness.

I attempt to shrug it off, summoning a weak smile. "Just a passing thing, nothing to worry about.” But Mihawk, with his keen observation skills, remains unconvinced. His scrutiny intensifies as he observes me closely, a silent but unmistakable display of attentiveness. As the discomfort escalates, I find myself rushing to the ship's railing, a sudden urge to empty my stomach. The violent bout of vomiting catches both Mihawk and me off guard. 

Concern etches itself onto Mihawk's otherwise impassive features as he moves closer, his hand resting lightly on my back. "This doesn’t seem like 'nothing,'" he observes, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. 

I try to downplay it, despite the relentless churning in my stomach. "Just a bug, probably," I manage between strained breaths, attempting to mask the unease bubbling within me.

But Mihawk, with his unyielding intuition, sees through the facade. "It's more than that," he asserts, his gaze penetrating, seeking answers I'm not yet prepared to acknowledge. The silence between us is charged with unspoken questions, an undercurrent of concern that we both struggle to articulate. Despite my attempts to evade the truth, Mihawk's perceptive nature latches onto the possibility that eludes my own awareness. "Have you noticed any other changes?" His inquiry is gentle but direct, his unwavering gaze locking onto mine. 

I hesitate, grappling with the enormity of what his question implies. "I... I'm not sure," I falter, the weight of his question sinking in. 

Mihawk nods thoughtfully, his expression unreadable yet filled with a palpable sense of understanding. "Let's find out," he suggests, guiding me to a quiet corner of the ship where we can speak privately. The rest of the crew disappearing back downstairs to give us privacy as they can gage the seriousness of the conversation Mihawk and I need to have. 

He sits on the bench and I go to join him, sitting next to him, but in one smooth move he pulls me onto his lap with a surprising ease. His arms wrap securely around my waist, ensuring I’m steady against the rhythmic movements of the vessel. His touch, though firm, carries a comforting assurance, ground me amidst the uncertainty that hangs in the air. 

In the cocoon of his embrace, I feel a rush of emotions—vulnerability, anticipation, and a glimmer of hope intertwined. Mihawk’s presence, his unspoken support, is a reassuring beacon of amidst the tempest feelings swirling within me. He leans in closer, his voice a soft murmur against my ear, “We’ll figure this out.” His words, through simple, carry a weight of determination and a promise of solidarity that resonates deep within me. 

With a steadying breath, I meet his gaze, finding an unexpected solace in the depths of his eyes. The unspoken understanding between us weaves an invisible bond, strengthening our resolve to face the unknown together. As the ship rocks gently with the ocean's sway, our private conversation unfolds—a candid exchange filled with a raw honesty that transcends words. Mihawk listens attentively, his silence a canvas for the emotions and uncertainties I pour out.

“I’ve missed my period Mi,” I tell him softly and Mihawk's demeanour remains composed, yet a subtle shift in his expression betrays a momentary pause, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. His touch, tender and deliberate as he brushes a strand of hair away from my eyes, betrays the depth of his emotions, concealed beneath his stoic facade. 

The weight of my revelation hangs between us, a pregnant silence punctuated only by the soft sounds of the ship slicing through the gentle waves. Mihawk’s eyes, usually enigmatic and inscrutable, now reflect a spectrum of emotions—concern, contemplation, and a hint of something deeper that I struggle to decipher. He exhales slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, the depths of his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions. "I see," he responds softly, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of consideration. 

As the words linger in the air, a wave of apprehension washes over me, uncertain of how he'll receive this unforeseen revelation. But Mihawk, with his characteristic composure, offers a calm reassurance, a quiet strength that anchors me amidst the tempest of emotions.

“Mi?” I ask quietly, shakily playing with the tufts of hair at the back of his head, twirling them through my fingers and avoiding his gaze as he’s a warlord of the sea, he’s not going to want a child, let alone a child with me. 

Mihawk’s hand, strong yet surprisingly gentle, intercepts mine, halting the nervous twirling of his hair. His touch redirects my attention, guiding my trembling fingers away from their anxious fidgeting. With deliberate intent, he lifts my chin, urging me to meet his gaze, his eyes unwavering as they lock onto mine, "Stop those thoughts," he commands, his voice firm but not harsh, resonating with an unspoken intensity. It's as if he can perceive the tumultuous whirlwind of doubts raging within me, and with his unwavering gaze, he attempts to quell the storm of insecurities that threaten to engulf me.

Before I can offer any protest, any further apprehensive whispers, his lips claim mine in a kiss that silences the racing thoughts in my mind. It's a kiss filled with a passion that defies the uncertainties, a kiss that speaks volumes of his unwavering affection and a desire to shield me from my own fears. As our lips meld in a fervent embrace, Mihawk's kiss becomes a testament to his commitment, a reassurance that transcends spoken words. In that moment, amid the tangle of emotions and swirling doubts, his lips become a lifeline, a beacon of certainty in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties.

The kiss lingers, a bridge between our unspoken fears and the unyielding depth of our connection. Mihawk's touch, his fervent kiss, convey a silent promise—a promise that echoes in the depths of my being, a promise that together, we will weather whatever storms lie ahead. As the kiss concludes, a serene tranquility settles within me, a newfound sense of assurance born from Mihawk's unwavering declaration through that intimate gesture. In the quiet aftermath, his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, a mutual acknowledgment that in each other's embrace, we'll find the strength to face the unforeseen challenges ahead. 

After the kiss, a soft yet resolute glint flickers in Mihawk's eyes as he gazes at me. His hand cups my cheek tenderly, his touch conveying a depth of emotion that words struggle to articulate. 

"Y/N," he begins, his voice a steady reassurance, "I want this. I want this child with you." His words, though measured, carry a weight of sincerity that resonates deeply within me, "You're not alone in this," he continues, his tone unwavering. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together. I'm here, and I'm staying.”

The earnestness in his declaration pierces through my uncertainties, weaving a tapestry of assurance and commitment. His unwavering support, a promise anchored in his eyes and echoed in his words, becomes a beacon of hope amidst the labyrinth of doubts, "We'll navigate this, step by step," he assures, his voice a steadfast anchor in the tumultuous sea of uncertainties. "I'm with you every step of the way.” 

In that poignant moment, Mihawk's unwavering commitment and steadfast reassurance carve a path forward—a path illuminated by the warmth of his unwavering support and our shared determination to embrace the unexpected journey that lies ahead.

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[milksnake-tea]

━━ under the lotus leaves.

You've known Dan Feng long before he became the High Elder of the Vidyadhara, before he donned the title of Imbibitor Lunae and became the legend he is known as now. Long ago, back when the two of you were mere children, playing in the waters of the Xianzhou Luofu.

imbibitor lunae (dan feng) x gn!reader

contains: childhood friends au, set before dan feng is a criminal, slow burn, long fic, ooc!character for the first half bc he's growing up and is an annoying teen, mentions of blade's real name, death, spoilers for 1.2

genres: mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, some angst bittersweet ending

word count: 8.6k

a/n: please do note that this is dan feng, not dan heng. and therefore i take a lot more liberties with how he is because i firmly believe that dan feng was more of a bitch than dan heng BYE ALSO THIS IS UNEDITED !! ILL EDIT IT TMRW WHEN I WAKE UP I JUST HAD TO GET THIS OUT BYE

img credits

Your best friend was an extraordinary being.

There was no doubt about it. Regarded as both the strongest and wisest of your people, he was chosen as the High Elder, Imbibitor Lunae. And he has served you well.

His feats are plenty, with his joining the esteemed High-Cloud Quintet, and you couldn't count the amount of time he'd saved the Xianzhou on one hand. He was smart, intelligent, and witty, quick to understand situations and formulate the best solutions. His enemies feared his presence on the battlefield, and his friends trusted him with their lives.

As did you.

You, a mere civilian. A single face among thousands of Vidyadhara, another footstep among the crowd. You, who have lived through his past and present. You, who knew him better than he knew himself.

You, who has been by his side since the very beginning.

━

It was a stormy day when you first met Dan Feng.

You were just a child back then, a Vidyadhara only eight years of age. Normally, at this stage in your life, you'd be guided by the current high elder, but it seems that you had undergone your cycle at the same time as the past high elder.

So as life would have it, you would instead be raised by your seniors, while the Preceptors tended to the newly reborn high elder. A skilled weaver in your past incarnation, you were taken in by your then coworkers, and raised within your craft of making lotus silk.

As such, your childhood was filled with looms, lotus flowers, and spinning threads. You spent your free time in the gardens of lotus flowers, hiding from your caretakers amongst the tall stems and diving into the waters to swim amongst them. You may not have had the draconic features of the High Elder, but you still adored the water like any other Vidyadhara.

And as it would seem, so did the High Elder.

It had been a hot and sunny day at the Luofu. The rays were smoldering on your back as you waded through the lotus fields, thankful for the cold water splashing against your legs. You squinted against the sun, adjusting your leaf hat on your head. Tucked against your arm was a woven basket filled with lotus stems, all of which would have fiber extracted from them.

The tall leaves and flowers of the lotuses dwarfed your child self in comparison, although you weren’t complaining. Although the water sloshed around your thighs, requiring you to roll up your pants more than your older coworkers, the leaves served as temporary relief from the sun’s rays.

You pushed stems aside, the field looking more akin to a jungle to you. You only needed one more before you could return home to the comfort of an air conditioner in order to extract the fibers for the threads. Thankfully, that wouldn’t have to wait long.

Once you found a suitable stem to harvest, you snapped it from its roots and began to wash it in the water. Your basket floated next to you, you keeping an eye on it to make sure it wouldn’t float away.

But then, you heard the stems rustle, and the waters splashing as something entered your field. Immediately, you stood up straight, holding the lotus stem more like a weapon than a crop.

“Who’s there?” you called out, your voice ringing through the silent and tranquil fields.

No response.

You huffed, carefully setting down your stem in the basket. Whoever it was probably thought you weren’t a threat merely because of your age. You’d prove them wrong.

You heard the stems rustle one more time, snapping your head towards the source. Picking up your basket, you marched over to a large clump of lotuses, a perfect hiding spot (you would know, you’ve used it many times before). A shadow around your size moved within them, submerging itself into the water.

You rolled your eyes. Another kid, then. 

Pushing the stems aside, you saw the flicker of a draconic tail splashing the water, almost wagging as its owner lay face-first in the murky water. Without a second thought, you set aside your basket, grabbed the tail with your grubby little hands, and pulled hard.

“OW!”

The tail’s owner toppled out of the water, crashing into you in the process and knocking your foreheads together. You yelped, falling into the water with a splash as you held your aching forehead.

“What was that for?!” A child-like voice, much like your own berated you, a whine in his tone.

Glaring through your tears, you shouted back at him. “That was for bumming around on my farm!”

Your victim/intruder, a young boy with long hair, met your glare with equal fire. “I wasn’t ‘bumming around’, I was just… Cooling off! It’s hot today.”

You squinted, clearly not impressed. “I don’t care what you were doing! You’re not doing it on my farm.”

He lashed his tail angrily, splashing you in the process. “I’m the High Elder. I do what I want.”

You stared at him for a good second, taking in his appearance. He was a Vidyadhara around your age, only he had draconic-like horns protruding from his head. His long black hair flowed around him, and his fancy white robes were drenched in lotus water. It would’ve been obvious to anyone that he was a noble, someone of higher standing.

“No you’re not,” you said, deadpanning. “You’re too small.”

The self-proclaimed High Elder flushed red with embarrassment, jumping to his feet.

“I’m still growing!” he insisted, stamping his feet and splashing water everywhere.

“The High Elder’s supposed to be big and powerful!” you said, throwing your arms in the air to emphasize your point. “You’re… a kid!”

“You’re a kid too-!” The High Elder froze in the middle of his sentence, his tail stiffening at the sound voices - adult voices. Quickly, he grabbed you by the collar of your robe and pulled you into the shadows of the clump.

“Hey-!” He slapped his hand over your mouth to shut you up. In retaliation, you licked at his hand, the young boy recoiling in disgust.

“Did you just lick me?!” he hissed, looking at his hand in horror. 

“You’re the one who just grabbed me-”

“Shh!!” He put a finger to his mouth, shushing you. “Be quiet! Can’t you see I’m hiding?”

“From what, the Cloud Knights?” you gasped, backing up. “Are you a criminal?!”

He gave you a look. “No! I told you, I’m the High-”

“High Elder? Are you there?”

This time, you both slapped a hand over each other’s mouths. An unfamiliar adult voice shouted over the fields, calling for the boy beside you. You both waited with bated breath as the man searched on the other side of the field, only letting go when he was far enough away.

“You weren’t lying?” you whispered excitedly, looking up at the boy with newfound respect. He crossed his arms, looking all high and mighty now.

“Why would I be lying?” he said matter-of-factly. “You were the one who didn’t believe me.”

You really wanted to make a witty comment, but then you remembered your stems, floating out in the sun. Panic seized you. You couldn’t let those stems dry. If they did, they’d be useless to you.

You jumped to your feet, hurriedly running to your stems. Thankfully, they were still where you left them, and in the shade. You sighed in relief, knowing that you would live to see another day.

You peeked your head over the lotus heads, spotting the man who was calling for the High Elder. He was wearing some pretty fancy robes himself, the robes you recognized as belonging to a Preceptor.

Cradling your basket once again, you walked back to where the High Elder was hiding. He looked up at you in surprise as you reached towards what used to be a preening lotus flower, now a pod filled with green seeds. 

You snapped it off the stem and popped out one of the seeds. After peeling the green skin to reveal the white center, you handed it to the High Elder.

“Want one?”

The High Elder was wary at first, but eventually took the seed. He chewed it in his mouth for a little bit, his eyes brightening at the taste.

“It’s sweet,” he said in surprise. You nodded, taking one for yourself before giving him the pod.

“You have the rest on this one,” you said. You pointed in the direction of the Preceptor. “The big guy looking for you is over there, by the way.”

“Oh.” He took the pod in his hands, still a bit freaked out by how it looked. “Thank you.”

“Master always said I have to make it up when I do something bad,” you said, picking up your stems. With a start, the High Elder seemed to realize that you were apologizing. “Anyway, I have to go now. The fibers will dry up if I stay out here too long.”

“Wait!” The High Elder called out, reaching for you. You turned around, raising a brow. His tail waved nervously behind him as his hand faltered. “What’s your name?”

As you answered him, in the back of your head, you could’ve sworn you’d read this scene before. 

You tilted your head curiously. “What’s yours?”

His expression was strange. It was a smile of relief and happiness, just from you not knowing his name. The waters responded to his joy, swirling gently around him.

“Dan Feng,” he said, his tail wagging slightly. “My name is Dan Feng.”

━

You remember seeing him dragged out of the fields a few hours later. You had been extracting fibers from the stems you’d collected when you’d heard the commotion. 

Dan Feng was having his ear talked off by the Preceptor, but he was being awfully obedient. The two of you had met gazes, and he had sheepishly waved at you. Your hands were busy with your work, so all you could do was giggle at his predicament.

Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time you saw the High Elder - far from it. 

Dan Feng would visit your farm often, whether it was for eating more lotus seeds, dragging you to go swim with him, or just to watch you work. Your mentors and coworkers grew accustomed to seeing the young Vidyadhara waiting for you outside the workshop.

All of his visits would end in the same way - a Preceptor would come and take him away for his studies, droning on about his duty as the High Elder while Dan Feng rolled his eyes behind their back.

It wasn’t like he hated his duty. You knew better than anyone that Dan Feng took pride in his role, he was just… stubborn.

“What are you doing?”

You flinched at the boy in question’s voice. Dan Feng was practically talking in your ears, his face right next to yours. You leaned away, batting away at him.

“None of your business,” you said, turning your back towards him as to hide your hands. Dan Feng pouted but didn’t push.

“If you say so.” He turned his gaze back to the open fields. His legs kicked as he dangled on the stone wall alongside you.

You sat in comfortable silence, feeling as the spring breeze blew gently around you. It was tranquil and quiet, as the lotus fields always were.

Dan Feng found he preferred it that way. It was nice to get away from the droning words of the Preceptors, and this little farm served as his favorite sanctuary. He could spend his days here forever, just being by your side.

His eyes shifted towards you again. You were oddly concentrated today, he noted, working on whatever was in your hands right now. It was unlike you to be so quiet. Usually, you’d be talking about the latest gossip you’d heard from your mentors, or complaining about the weather again.

He strained his neck, trying to see just what was taking your attention away from him. But alas, you saw him and snatched it away from him again. Frustrated, he blew at his hair, lashing his tail in impatience.

Oh, well. If you weren’t going to show him, you weren’t going to show it. It wasn’t like he wanted to see it anyways.

Dan Feng went back to spacing out, closing his eyes, crossing his legs, and focusing on the world around him. If he wasn’t going to do anything, he might as well meditate.

He reached his senses into the fields, losing himself in the environment. His ears were filled with the rustle of each individual leaf, the soft splashing of water, the croak of the frogs, and the buzzing of insects that inhabited the fields.

He could feel how the wind felt on every plant, the warmth of the sun not just on his skin, but on the skin of the other aquatic animals. At that moment, Dan Feng became one with the world. Nothing could break his concentration.

Nothing, except perhaps for you, who was trying to grab his hand as stealthily as possible.

Dan Feng snapped his eyes open when you took his left hand in yours. Apparently, you were too engrossed in your task to notice his eyes on you.

You slid something onto his ring finger. Dan Feng tilted his head, raising his hand to stare at whatever it was you put on him.

A band of woven grasses encircled his finger, the braid intricate and tight. Dan Feng looked at it in confusion, rotating his hand to get a better view of it.

“Do you like it?” you said proudly.

“What is it?” he asked, bringing it to his face to observe.

“It’s a ring,” you said obviously. You showed him your dominant hand, which had a matching ring on it. “I saw a couple of girls the other day with those friendship bracelets. I figured since we’ve known each other for a few years now, we should have something like that too.”

“Oh.” Dan Feng blushed at your words, a giddy feeling bubbling within his chest. Suddenly, the ring on his finger felt heavier, but also much, much warmer.

“It’s nice, right?” you hummed, holding your hand to the sky. “I mean, it’s not like one of those beads you can just buy, but I think it’s pretty special.”

“I love it.” Dan Feng beamed softly, holding his hand close to his chest. “I’ll treasure it forever.”

It melted your heart to see him so ecstatic over something as simple as a grass ring. He was quite literally glowing from happiness, his draconic parts illuminating with a soft sea green.

“I’m glad,” you said, hugging your knees to your chest. 

Dan Feng looked at you, gratitude brimming in his eyes. He didn’t reach out to hug you (although he certainly wanted to), but rather, only wrapped his tail around your waist, tugging you closer to him.

━

You loved Dan Feng, you really did. But sometimes, you really wanted to tie him up and throw him in a ditch.

You sigh loudly in frustration, jabbing at Dan Feng’s wound with an alcohol-infused pad. The boy in question hissed in pain at your actions.

“Would it kill you to be gentler?” he attempted to jolt away, but your hold on his arm was firm.

It had been many years since you two had first met. The two of you were adolescents now, nearing adulthood.

Dan Feng had appeared at your doorstep after training once again to escape his mentors, only this time with a bloodied gash on his shoulder. He’d tried to hide it from you, but to little success.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about this?” you shot back, angrily wrapping his wound with bandages. Dan Feng averted his gaze.

“It wasn’t anything they needed to know,” he said quietly. You paused in your wrapping to stare at him incredulously.

“Are you kidding me?!” You pulled on the bandages, tightening them. Dan Feng winced at your loud voice, waving his hand for you to quiet down. Granted, you did, but you still decided on berating him.

“Feng'er, this is serious,” you said through gritted teeth. “It’s not one of those scratches you can just lick away. What if it had gotten infected?”

Dan Feng sighed, opting to stay silent and instead watch you work. Despite your harsh tone, he knew that you were just worried about him. He didn’t blame you, the wound was pretty serious.

His eyes softened as he saw your hands trembling as they worked. Your face was a mask of angry calm, but he could see the shake in your eyes.

“...sorry.”

You blinked. “What was that?”

Dan Feng dropped his gaze guiltily. “I’m sorry. I made you worry.”

“When do you not make me worry?” you joke, tying the bandage into a bow. Dan Feng smiled sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, touching your hand with his tail. “How should I make it up to you this time?”

“Hm…” You pondered the question, tapping at your chin before brightening with an idea. “I got it. How about showing me that little trick you were bragging to me about earlier, with the cloudhymm?”

Dan Feng laughed airily. “You always ask for that.”

“Well, no one around here knows cloudhymm except for you,” you said, crossing your legs on the floor. Your eyes practically glowed in anticipation - Dan Feng wanted to compare you to a puppy awaiting a treat. 

The thought made his lips twitch as he held back his laugh. You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him eagerly.

“So pushy,” he said dramatically, but you knew he was just teasing. He sat up straight, smoothed out his robes, and without further ado, he began his personal spectacle for you.

With just a flick of his finger, water materialized around him, taking the form of white lotus flowers in the air. Droplets stilled, as though someone had stopped time in the middle of a rainstorm.

You’ve seen this view many times before, but you were still amazed each and every time. A lotus flower hovered in front of you, bursting into a cloud of mist as you touched it.

You giggled, leaning back onto your hands, watching the lotuses drift off into the air. Unbeknownst to you, Dan Feng was preparing a whole nother surprise for you.

As your attention was captured by the lotuses, Dan Feng swirled his finger in the air. His signature teal water erupted in a spiral, taking the form of a roaring dragon. You jumped in surprise as it circled around you, flying toward the ceiling.

Dan Feng made the dragon dance around the lotuses, even bumping against your cheek. You squeaked as it did, light-heartedly glaring at Dan Feng. He only smirked back at you, before he enraptured your gaze with the dragon once again.

It glided towards the ceiling again, curling into a glowing orb of water. Dan Feng made a fist, and the dragon and the lotuses burst into a fine mist, making rainbows in the late evening light.

You were glimmering with awe, a permanent smile fixed onto your lips as you reached towards the ceiling to catch the mist. It was cool against your skin, like a little kiss from the rain.

“Am I forgiven now?” Dan Feng asked, amused.

You rolled your eyes. “Only if you promise to tell someone the next time you get injured.”

Dan Feng laughed. “Yes, yes, of course.”

You turned to look at him, only to find that he had been watching you this entire time, a fond smile on his lips.

━

“Are you sure about this?”

Dan Feng whispered anxiously as you skillfully maneuvered through dark alleyways and streetlights, your hand clasped tightly in his. 

He kept looking back behind him, just to make sure that you weren’t being followed. He’d changed his appearance somewhat, making sure to hide his horns and tail, but he was still paranoid.

“Obviously!” you chirped back. You didn’t bother looking back at him, currently fixated on your destination - a crowd of bright lights, the smell of food, and the chatter of people. In other words, the night market.

Dan Feng let himself be dragged off by you, trusting that you knew these streets better than he did. He looked urgently back at you.

“When we get caught-”

“If we get caught,” you corrected, stopping momentarily to pull Dan Feng towards you. You let go of his hand to hold his face, pulling him to meet yours. “You trust me, right?”

Dan Feng sighed. “Yes, but-”

You squished his cheeks, effectively shutting him up. “No ‘buts’. What happened to the kid who would sneak off to swim in my farm?”

Dan Feng gave you a look, but with his face all squished up like that, you couldn’t take him seriously. Fighting down a giggle, you squeezed him one last time before letting go.

“Trust me on this,” you insisted, the lights of the market illuminating your back. “You couldn’t have lived for this long and not have been to the night market. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“And if I don’t?” Dan Feng hummed. You snorted, interlacing your fingers with his once again.

“Then I’ll do whatever you want later, alright?”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Dan Feng squinted as you pulled him into the depths of the market, the bright lights blinding him momentarily. The savory aroma of grilled meat and fried vegetables wafted into his nose, the chatter of friends, families, and lovers filling the air. The two of you were practically consumed by the crowd, the only thing keeping him from being swept away was your hand in his.

It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. Dan Feng’s eyes widened with wonder as he took in the atmosphere around him. He wasn’t used to so many people being in one place, at the same time. In the lotus fields and in his palace, things were always quiet, still.

He could see children playing silly games with one another, jewelers selling their handcrafted trinkets, and so many street chefs, cooking right on the spot over open flames.

A tug on his hand broke him out of his stupor. You had been watching him all this time, a knowing smile on your face. You tugged him over to a stand that was selling what looked to be skewered balls of meat, dripping with a sweet glaze.

“They’re berrypheasant skewers,” you explained. You noticed Dan Feng’s disgruntled look and nudged him. “Don’t worry, it’s just the fruit that comes off their tails. They didn’t actually kill anything.”

“Oh… I see.” Dan Feng relaxed a bit after hearing that. You gave him a smile before talking to the vendor. Once you had acquired your skewers, you grabbed his hand once more, moving to a secluded corner of the market to enjoy them.

You wasted no time in biting off one of the fruit balls, closing your eyes in delight as you let it slowly melt in your mouth.

“That’s amazing,” you sighed in contentment, leaning back on a wall. You opened your eyes to see Dan Feng silently chewing on his. “How is it?”

“Sweet,” he said, swallowing it. “It’s not bad. Although, I prefer lotus seeds.”

“Really?” you asked, finishing off your skewer. “I like these better. Or maybe that’s because I’ve spent my whole life eating lotus seeds.”

“Perhaps,” Dan Feng agreed. He looked off in the direction of the market. “This place, it’s…”

“Loud?” you jested. Dan Feng chuckled.

“That too,” he admitted, “but the word I had in mind was ‘comfortable’.”

You hummed in agreement. “Well,” you said, pushing yourself off the wall. “We’ve only just scratched the surface. Are you ready?”

Dan Feng nodded. “Let’s go.”

Whatever happened next was a blur. What had started as you dragging Dan Feng around to try different food turned into Dan Feng pulling you to whichever jewelry store caught his attention. Sometimes, you’d lose him in the crowd, and run around panicked only to find him in the middle of getting scammed (to which you’d drag him off, giving death glares to whoever decided to prey on him).

You soon learned that this was a lot more tiring task than you’d originally anticipated. It was like babysitting a toddler - one minute he’d be standing at your side, watching you as you bargained with the vendor, and the next minute, he’d be across the street, trying on some new earrings.

And to make matters worse, every time you wanted to wring Dan Feng’s throat the second you caught up to him, he’d turn to you with that stupidly pretty smile of his, showing off whatever trinkets he managed to pick up this time.

And of course, like the weak soul you were, you couldn’t stay angry at a face like that for long.

But safe to say, you were relieved when you reached the end of the market and instead came to the edges of Central Starskiff Haven, right in front of the Jade Gate. 

Here, the crowds had parted, allowing you to take a breather from your exhausting task. Of course, you were the only one who was tired - Dan Feng was vibrating with excitement, the brightest grin you’ve ever seen on his face.

“I take it you had fun?” you said good-naturedly, coming up beside your friend to watch the flow of starskiffs in and out of the Luofu. Dan Feng nodded, crossing his arms behind him.

“Most definitely,” he said happily. “The outworlder merchants have so many interesting things, I can’t help but be intrigued by them.”

“I could tell,” you chuckled. “I could barely catch up to you with the way you were running around. Imagine what the Preceptors would say.”

“We did agree that they would never find out, no?” Dan Feng pointed out. You shrugged.

“Fair enough,” you acknowledged. You gazed out into the glowing light of the Jade Gate before suddenly jolting in realization. “Lan above, I almost forgot!”

Dan Feng looked at you questioningly as you riffled through your pockets. His confusion only increased as you pulled out a small box, barely the size of your palm.

You opened it to reveal two jade rings, each with the image of a  lotus carved into its band. Dan Feng feels his breath hitch at the sight, and something in his chest tightened.

“What…” he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” you said. “I figured that now would be a good time to replace the ones I made when we were kids.”

That’s right. You didn’t just choose today of all days randomly. Today was Dan Feng’s birthday, and the day he officially became of age. Today was the last day of his childhood before he would fully take on the title of Imbibitor Lunae and the responsibilities that came with being the High Elder.

You couldn’t help but feel proud as you watched him take the rings with shaking hands. He’s still that stubborn child who listens to no one but himself, but he’s become so much more. He’s grown taller, more mature, more dignified.

And yet, he still looked like he might cry from your gift. He mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.

“What was that?” you asked, only to be pulled tightly into his chest. Dan Feng squeezed you into his embrace as he tried to steady his breathing.

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, melting into his hold. Such moments like these were rare, after all. The furthest Dan Feng had ever gone with you was holding hands. Hugs weren’t part of his vocabulary.

“You know…” he murmured. “In human cultures, rings symbolize marriage.”

“Well,” you laughed into his skin. “We’re not human, are we?”

“Yes, but…”

“Are you trying to propose to me, gege?” You looked up at him, raising your brow playfully. Dan Feng blushed at the nickname, averting his gaze.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he mumbled, flustered. He quickly let go of you, hiding his face behind his hand as he tried to calm his rapidly increasing heartbeat.

You snickered at him. “I know, I’m only teasing. Here, give me those; I’ll put them on for you.”

But despite your words, Dan Feng couldn’t help the burning heat that enveloped him as you took his hand delicately in yours, sliding on the ring. He couldn’t stop his heart from pounding, couldn’t stop his thoughts of newly engaged couples doing exactly what you were doing.

And most of all, he couldn’t stop thinking of how badly he wanted to kiss you in that moment.

━

Ever since that day, neither you nor Dan Feng have taken off your respective rings. Dan Feng always kept it hidden beneath his gloves, while you showed it off even while you worked. You’ve been asked many times who the other ring belonged to, but you’ve never given them an answer.

One of these questionees was Yingxing, a passionate young outworlder who had come to the Luofu hearing of the feats made by Vidyadhara craftsmen. You’d met through a common friend of Jingliu, one of Dan Feng’s friends in the renowned High Cloud Quintet.

While Yingxing was a blacksmith and you a weaver, the two of you hit it off immediately. The two of you bonded over creating for the members of the Quintet, with you being responsible for the threads that made up their clothes, and Yingxing their armor and weapons. Many times, when one of you had a day off, one could find you in the other’s workshop.

You coughed as smoke arose from the furnace, fanning yourself. Yingxing glanced over momentarily.

“Are you alright?” he asked, a bubbling laugh in his voice. You nodded.

“Yes, just not used to so much smoke,” you sighed. Yingxing wiped at his brow as he took out the pot from the furnace, pouring the molten metal into the mold beneath him.

“If it bothers you too much,” he advised, “you should step outside.”

You shook your head, jumping down from your spot by the window. “I’m fine, don’t worry. But enough about me, what’s this you’re making?”

“It’s a spear for the High Elder.” Yingxing moved aside as you came up next to him. “See the way the metal glows from a certain angle? That’s the remnants of the Reignbow Arbiter’s arrow.”

“Fascinating.” So this was the weapon Dan Feng would wield.

You waved away embers from your face, and for a moment, their light caught on the ring on your finger.

“You’re married?” said Yingxing in surprise. You stared at him inquisitively.

“No? What made you think that?”

“Your ring,” he said, nodding at your finger. You looked down before spurting a laugh.

“Oh, this?” You toyed with it, fidgeting it on your hand. “It’s nothing like that.”

“You don’t sound so sure,” Yingxing commented. You huff.

“I am,” you retorted, nudging him. Yingxing whined at the jab, complaining.

“Don’t you know not to provoke a man with a hammer?” he threatened good-naturedly. You, being the very mature person you are, stuck your tongue out at him.

“Yingxing?”

The sound of your best friend’s voice interrupted your play argument as the both of you perked your heads. Dan Feng bent down as he entered the forgery so as to not hit his horns on the door frame.

“Dan Feng!” Yingxing greeted, waving. “What brings you here?”

“Don’t let me disturb you,” the Vidyadhara said, his nose wrinkling at the smoke filling the forge. “I’m merely here to check on the progress of the spear.”

“It’s still in the process of being smelted, as you can see.” Yingxing pounded away at the spear, shaping it into his desired form.

“Ah, is that so?” Dan Feng nodded. “I’ll come back tomorrow, then. Keep up the good work.”

“You’re going to leave without saying hi?” you interjected, fake hurt lacing your voice. “I’m hurt, Feng’er.”

Dan Feng flinched, as though he hadn’t noticed you at all.

“[Name]?” He straightens, blinking rapidly in surprise. Yingxing swore he’d never seen the High Elder brighten so quickly - he almost didn't believe his eyes when he saw his tail wag with joy. “I apologize, I didn’t see you.”

“It’s alright,” you laugh, walking over to him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?”

“You two know each other?” Yingxing asked. Dan Feng narrowed his eyes, fixing the younger man with a glare.

“I should be the one asking you that, Yingxing,” he said lowly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “When did you and them get so close?”

“We’ve been friends for a while,” you answered for Yingxing, lightly hitting Dan Feng’s chest. “Be nice to him.”

Dan Feng pouted, reluctantly letting you go. “But-”

“No ‘buts’,” you scolded, crossing your arms. “If you’re not going to be nice, you can step outside.”

Dan Feng looked akin to a kicked puppy, but he relented. Although, when he saw Yingxing, trying his absolute best not to laugh, Dan Feng felt murderous intent for the first time.

His tail lashed angrily behind him as he watched you converse with the blacksmith, Yingxing sweating from the pure pressure of Dan Feng’s stare. He’d never been so relieved to see you go.

“I have to go now, but I’ll come back later, alright?” you said, waving at Yingxing. You squeezed Dan Feng’s shoulder on your way to the door, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t give him a hard time, okay?”

Dan Feng only nodded, briefly touching his hand to yours before you finally left, leaving the two men alone.

“So,” Yingxing coughed, looking anywhere but Dan Feng’s eyes. “Feng’er, was it?”

“You will not speak of this,” Dan Feng warned. Yingxing raised his hands in surrender.

“My lips are sealed, High Elder.” Yingxing smiled. “Although, if I were you, I wouldn’t wait.”

Dan Feng narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“How should I say this…” Yingxing pondered. “If you stall for too long, someone will sweep them away.”

Horror shot through Dan Feng like a bullet as he gaped at Yingxing. The thought of you leaving him for someone else, replacing him, hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he gritted out, taking a deep breath to calm down. “They would never replace me.”

Yingxing blinked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t realized.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Dan Feng, you’re-”

“Dan Feng, Yingxing, there you are.”

Jingliu crossed her arms in the doorway, her apprentice, Jing Yuan by her side. 

“Was that [Name] I just saw run out?” she asked, raising a brow. She shook her head. “Nevermind that. I needed to talk to you two anyways. We’re heading out in a week’s time.”

“What for?” Dan Feng questioned, furrowing his brows.

“The Denizens of Abundance have invaded our ally Thalassa,” Jingliu disclosed, her voice tight at the mere mention of the Xianzhou’s sworn enemies. “We’ve been ordered to drive them out.”

“Very well,” said Dan Feng. “We’ll see you then, Jingliu.”

She nodded. “Until then.”

━

It was the first time Dan Feng had seen death.

War was never pretty for anyone, soldier or civilian. It was dirty, dark, and grimy. In war, you had two objects: one, defeat the enemy. Two, survive.

Dan Feng cursed as he ran his spear through another borison, the ocean of Thalassa responding to his anger. Dragons made from water, the same ones he showed to you all those years ago, drove back the enemy, blasting them away and incapacitating them in the process.

He kept his eyes ahead of him, deliberately avoiding the ground. There, laid corpses of allies and enemies alike.

Death was uncommon on the Xianzhou, especially for a Vidyadhara. There were no soulless eyes on the Luofu, no limp bodies littering the ground. There were no pleas for mercy, no screams of pain and fear.

But here, in the midst of a foreign battlefield, all of those horrors revealed themselves, and bared their teeth.

Dan Feng made the mistake of looking down. His eyes met with that of a deceased borison, its own lifeless eyes glazed over. Instantly, Dan Feng faltered.

The borison looked nothing but a Vidyadhara, but their eyes were the same. It might’ve been a different species, following a different Aeon, but the intelligence and sentience were the same. They were a person, just like anyone else. Just like you.

Only this one wouldn’t rebirth into a new life. No, this one was spoken for, done in by his spear. They would never live again.

The battle blurred around him as he spiraled deeper into his thoughts. He knew that realistically, it would never happen, but he couldn’t stop the thought from resurfacing in his mind.

What if one day, you ended up just like that borison?

Dan Feng shook his head, raising his spear just in time to block an attack from an enemy. No. It would never happen. He’d be there to protect you. The Cloud Knights would protect you. Xianzhou would protect you.

But what if they couldn’t?

“Dan Feng!” Jingliu’s shout snapped him out of his daze. Dan Feng clicked his tongue, irritated at his own absentmindedness. The battlefield was no place for distraction; he of all people should know this.

With a thrust of his hands, his dragons came to Jingliu’s aid, healing her wounds and fending off the borison attacking her.

He was being ridiculous, Dan Feng berated himself. The enemy was vastly overpowered. Their victory would come soon. And when it did, he would be able to come home, home to you.

And he did.

It was nighttime when he returned to the Luofu. You were just finishing up before bed, setting aside the fabrics you’d woven that day. Your former mentor had just checked in on you, making sure that you were doing alright before they went to sleep.

You heaved a heavy sigh to yourself, folding the final sheet before setting it on a shelf. Dan Feng and the others had been at war for months now.

“I wonder how they’re doing,” you muttered to yourself, closing your eyes. You knew they would be fine. Jingliu, Dan Feng, and every other member of the High Cloud Quintet were blessed with powers that you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The invading Denizens would be no match for them.

But still… You couldn’t help but worry.

What didn’t help was how obvious Dan Feng’s absence was. You often looked over your shoulder as you wove, as though expecting the young man to be standing there, watching. The night market didn’t feel the same without him being dragged around to every stall.

The lotus fields, with all their flowers and pads, seemed empty.

It was as though a hole had been ripped out of your heart, leaving only a dull ache.

The sound of your door opening startled you. You swiveled around, utterly confused. Just who would be here at this hour? Very few people had access to the key to your home. 

Perhaps one of the other weavers? Or perhaps your mentor again, worried that you weren’t getting enough sleep?

The answer was neither. A strangled whisper of your name, in such a familiar voice, cut through the night air like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the sight of your best friend, finally home after so long.

“Feng’er?” you whispered. He nodded wordlessly, taking a few hesitant steps into your home.

You met him halfway, reaching up to hold his face delicately. Dan Feng closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a little sigh. His arm came to the small of your back, pulling you in as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“You’re late,” you murmured, brushing your hand through his hair. Dan Feng tightened his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you laughed, sniffling. “Do you know how worried you made me?”

Dan Feng pulled away from your neck, gazing into your eyes. His tail swayed, eventually circling around your waist. He gingerly held your chin between his thumb and index finger as though you’d break if he was any rougher with you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, brows crinkling. Quickly, he wiped away your tears. Of all else, Dan Feng hated seeing you cry, and hated it even more if it was because of him. “I’m here now.”

You nodded tearfully. “And you’re not leaving, right?”

“Not for a while,” he promised. “Even the Abundance will need time to recover from the damage we did to them.”

“Good.” You held his face in your hands. “Because right now, you’re mine.”

“Is that so?” Dan Feng said softly. His eyes lingered on your lips, his lips slightly parted. “I’m yours, is that right?”

“Mhm.” You smiled as you felt him press your bodies impossibly closer together, one arm around your waist and the other behind your head. Your lips brushed against each other, your voice a whisper as you two danced on the edge. “Mine.”

A push from Dan Feng’s hand, and he sealed his lips with yours.

Immediately, you closed your eyes, savoring the taste of his kiss. His lips were soft, yet cool, like the touch of a river on a summer afternoon. He kissed you with a hidden desperation, years of pining and longing unleashing themselves in this torrent of affection. You almost couldn’t keep up with him, letting out a whimper as he tilted your face gently, deepening the kiss.

Even when you parted for air, it wasn’t long before Dan Feng greedily pulled you back in, addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. His hands wouldn’t stop wandering in a languid motion, slowly roaming all over you, from your waist to your back to your neck, and back to your waist again, squeezing every bit he could find.

By the time Dan Feng’s relentless assault ended, the two of you were breathless. Words failed to form on your tongue as you simply stared into Dan Feng’s eyes, trying to catch your breath.

Dan Feng pressed his forehead against yours, his horns bumping against you.

"You don't know how long I waited for that,” he whispered huskily. You let out a breathless chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling his nose with yours.

“I think I did.”

The corners of Dan Feng’s eyes crinkled. You’ve never seen them so up close before. The colors reminded you of a stone in a river, with cool grey giving way to gorgeous teal.

And the way he looked at you made your heart melt - it’s so tender, so soft, so filled with love that you can practically feel how much he cares about you.

And you can only hope that he saw the same in your eyes.

“I love you,” he confessed, like it was a secret. But even still, him being able to say those three words made it worth more than anything in the world. “I’ve always loved you, ever since we were children.”

Joy bubbled up in your chest, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. Your hand came to his scalp, bunching up his hair in your fingers.

“I love you too, you dork.” You pecked him on his nose, and then his forehead, laughing as he wrinkled his nose in response.

Reluctantly, you released him from your grasp, instead tugging his hand into your abode.

“It’s late already,” you explained. “The Preceptors won’t mind if you come home late, right?”

“They no longer control me,” Dan Feng affirmed. You grinned.

“That’s good.” You lead him into your bedroom, glancing over to make sure he was fine with it. “I don’t have a guest room, so are you alright with sharing a bed?”

Dan Feng flustered, but he nodded. “Th- That’s fine with me.”

You would learn that Dan Feng was incredibly clingy in bed. He practically enveloped you in his arms, tangling your legs together as he hugged your shoulders. His tail was conflicted - either thumping happily against the bed or wrapping around you like a possessive snake.

But it was worth all of it. You felt safe in Dan Feng’s embrace, loved. In his arms, you slept the most soundly you’ve ever slept. It was as though you had found your other half.

You truly felt blessed when you woke up to Dan Feng’s sleeping face, so serene and tranquil. And fortunately for the both of you, that wouldn’t be the last time you woke up next to the other.

━

But those happy days were not made to last.

There would be many more feats Dan Feng would accomplish as the High Elder. He would become one of the most prolific Vidyadhara ever, forever documenting his name in history books.

You two would eventually marry, sealing your love not just with those rings. It was a marriage in the palaces of Scalegorge Waterscape, only the best for the High Elder. All of your friends attended, Yingxing and Baiheng especially praising Dan Feng (and lamenting about how he of all people got married before they did). 

Jing Yuan had grown into a fine young man, his intellect and skill with the Lightning Lord being parallel to none. Yingxing was beginning to age, being a short-lived species. Jingliu had retired, aiming to end her days peacefully.

But as said before, that wasn’t what fate had planned for the quintet.

Jingliu would be driven mad with mara, her only solace being the blade of her former mentor. Baiheng would be missing in action. Yingxing would be killed long before his time, leaving Dan Feng in despair over losing three beloved friends so soon. 

Perhaps that is what drove him to do what he did.

“How could you?”

Dan Feng winced at the crack in your voice as you screamed at him. You were crying, angry tears streaming down your face.

“My love, please-”

“Do not call me that!” you snapped, making him flinch. “You don’t get to call me ‘my love’ after that. What were you thinking?!”

“It was the only way!” Dan Feng insisted.

“It was cruel,” you hissed. “You know that more than anyone here.”

“They stole them from me,” Dan Feng growled, his eyes flashing. “It wasn’t their time.”

“I know,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying and screaming. “I know it wasn’t. But you know what immortality will do to them, Feng’er. You know what the curse of Abundance does.”

Dan Feng averted his eyes guiltily. You wipe at your eyes hurriedly, taking big, gulping breaths to calm down.

“What did the Preceptors say?” you finally asked. Dan Feng’s gaze lowered, a shadow cast over his face. A pit dropped in your stomach.

“They’re waiting outside,” he revealed. “I’m to be taken to the Shackling Prison, and forced into rebirth. They only let me be here to say goodbye.”

It was as though an anvil had been dropped on you, crushing you.

“No.”

It was the only thing you could muster out. You shook your head in disbelief.

“No. No, no, no!” you croaked out. “They can’t do that. Not to you.”

Ironic, how only a few minutes prior you were berating Dan Feng as though your life depended on it. Now, you were pleading for him to be forgiven, for a lighter sentence to be dealt out. Because for a Vidyadhara, a forced rebirth was practically the same as a death sentence.

“Isn’t there another way?”

Dan Feng shook his head, taking your arms in his hands.

“I’m afraid not. This is the only way the public will forgive my sins.”

He took a deep breath.

“Please, my love,” he begged quietly. “Look at me.”

You did.

“You have to be strong,” said Dan Feng, cradling your face one last time. “Promise me that you’ll be alright, even after I am reborn.”

You shook your head. “Feng’er, please.”

“Promise me,” he urged.

“I…” You faltered. “I promise.”

Dan Feng smiled sadly - the last smile you’d ever see from your husband.

“Thank you.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, a kiss to last you the lifetimes he wouldn’t be at your side. “I love you, [Name]. And I’m sorry for being such a selfish husband.”

You closed your eyes, savoring him for the last time. Silently, you told him your forgiveness.

“I love you too, Dan Feng.”

That was the day the love of your life died.

━

Centuries have passed since then.

You’re still weaving, now taking care of your rebirthed mentors as they had cared for you. There are children under your wing now, hoping to learn your craft and one day start a business of their own.

You still keep in touch with Jing Yuan, the general visiting your farm every so often. Each time, you offer him a taste of the lotus seeds Dan Feng loved, but each time, he refuses.

Yingxing has become the Stellaron Hunter Blade, cursed with immortality and the mara that comes with it. If he remembered you, he never showed it.

The Ambrosial Arbor, reawakened by the Denizens of Abundance, runs rampant, threatening the existence of the Luofu itself. You hear from friends that Jing Yuan had enlisted a group of outworlders - the Astral Express - to help him with the crisis.

And now, those very outworlders were standing outside your door.

“Par-” Jing Yuan coughed, cutting himself off. “Pardon the intrusion, [Name].”

He was currently being held by a young Vidyadhara, one that… Your breath hitched.

One that looked almost identical to Dan Feng.

Your lover’s lookalike noticed your gaze at him. The second you met eyes, he seemed to know exactly what was going through your mind.

“...I’m not him.” He repeated this sentence for the nth time today.

You smiled sadly.

“I know.”

You turned to Jing Yuan, taking in the general’s sorry state. The outworlders, a young girl with pink hair, an older brunette man, and a grey-haired teenager all seemed to be in similar shape, although definitely better than the general.

You stepped aside. “Why don’t you all come in? It’s been a while since I’ve had company.”

“Thank you.” The brunette, who you would later come to know as Welt, thanked.

As you turned away, Dan Feng’s reincarnation noticed a jade ring on your finger, recognizing it as the one he had woken up in.

“That’s…”

You hummed, raising your hand. You’ve never taken it off, not even when Dan Feng was reborn.

“You recognize it,” you mused. “I suppose that means he still has it?”

The reincarnation hesitated, but nodded. You smiled.

“That’s good. Say, what’s your name, little one?”

“Dan Heng,” he answered.

 “It’s a good name.” You stepped away for a moment to the kitchen. “I apologize; the tea may take a while. I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“It’s no matter,” Jing Yuan assured.

And as you served tea to the Astral Express, you couldn’t help but notice: five people, seated around a table, enjoying tea. Just like a scene hundreds of years ago.

You chuckle to yourself, a carved lotus glimmering in the light on your ring.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[h2llish]

wait uh requests are open wait um

Its been really hot out lately so what if like reader and vil go out on an ice cream date or something? :3

Remember not to overwork yourself and have a good day :3

⁀➷ ˖ COLD TREAT

VIL SCHOENHEIT ─ you and vil share a cold treat ♡ fluff, you guys tease each other, gender neutral, lowercase intended,, established relationship ig, reader calls vil "my queen" and "my liege" (mostly in a joking manner but also yk like a nickname)

it was a sunny day, hardly many clouds to block out the sun. many students found themselves inside rather than sitting in the courtyard, while a few didn't seem to mind the sun as they joined their friends after a day of classes, excusing themselves from club work or joining study groups.

and it wasn't all that different for a certain housewarden and his partner ─ they were making their way towards the mirror with one of them looking all to happy to leave the school. with permission to leave campus (although he's not quite sure how you got it) so long as you returned at a set time, you were walking with a smile and a hum.

"will you tell me what exactly are your plans?" vil asked as the two of you stopped in front of the face starring back at them through the glass, ready to transport you into the island's village.

"nope!" you answered with a certain chirp to your voice that almost gave the impression of mischief. "you'll just have to wait and see."

he huffed, "a surprise date? is that what this is?"

you had barged into his room just before you two found yourselves here. ─ is it really barging if you knocked and received his permission to enter? ─ you asked him if he was free, and when given the confirmation, said the two of you were going on a date. (although through your demands, you really did make sure he was okay with it, you knew he was quite the busy person.)

and vil didn't offer much of a argument ─ you two hadn't spent much time together as of late. a date when he wasn't bombarded with housewarden duties, school work or gigs, didn't sound all that bad.

"sure is." you huffed, and turned back to the mirror, the reflection swirling as it awaited your entrance. you gestured to vil with a exaggerated but small bow, "after you, my liege." vil rolled his eyes, lips twitching up affectionately at the nickname as he turned to the mirror, not allowing you a chance to see his reaction as he entered. and you followed quickly after.

with a queasy feeling and an illusion of darkness and bright lights, the two of you soon found yourselves just at the edge of the village located on the isle.

you bent over with your hands on your knees and let out a breath. vil sent you a concerned look as you stood back up and shook your head. you turned to vil, lips pulled back into an almost embarrassed smile, answering the question shown in his expression, "i'm still not used to that."

vil sighed, shaking his head, "and how long have you been here?"

"oh, hush." you shushed him, pouting as you grabbed him by the wrist, and began to guide him towards the entrance to the village, "come on."

vil met your pace easily, letting you lead him without protest, "will you tell me about your plans now that we're here?"

"nope!"

but vil didn't have to wait long to realize what you had in store for this sudden date. as you led him straight to a small shop in the village, one that was praised for their ice cream and its rich taste. you stopped in front of the shop, and turned to him, looking almost proud with yourself.

"ice cream?" he hummed, although it really wasn't much of a question despite how it sounded. he looked back at you with raised brows, as if to say really.

but you only smiled, "yup!" sliding your hand down from his wrist to his own hand and lacing your fingers, you explained, "it's been hot lately. and you know, you looked like you needed a break. so, well, here we are."

you looked back at the shop, and shrugged your shoulders, "i did a bunch of research when i learned this was here, and it said this place has all sorts of flavors and no one has really said anything bad about it! even though it's not that popular. even some of the guys at school said it's really good, so i wanted to try it." you smiled at him again, a little bashful as you added, "and you know, i thought trying it with you would be nice."

vil smiled, "thank you, [name]."

"of course, my queen." you snickered as vil rolled his eyes. you tightened your grip on his hand and began to march towards the entrance with vil, "now come on, i want ice cream!"

inside the building was small, but cool and almost cozy, there were a few people inside, an older couple, and a woman with two kids. an older man greeted the two of you from behind the counter displaying the many flavors, smiling kindly.

"welcome!" he cheerfully exclaimed, glancing between the two of you, "what can i get you?"

you turned to vil, "what do you want, my liege?" vil hummed, brushing off name as he eyed the flavors. once he ordered, you followed.

as the man began to scoop the ice cream into cones, you watched, pulling vil along with you. you commented on how good it looks as the man handed over vil's cone, and vil chuckled nodding his head.

when you received yours, you released your grip on vil's hand, "thank you." you smiled, waving goodbye to the man before taking vil's hand again, and leading him outside.

"i thought we could walk around while we're here." you explained to vil, "is that okay?" ─ you had never been to he village on sage island, only ever the port so you wanted to have a chance to look around (while spending time with one of your favorite people).

vil looked down at you, your attention forward and glancing around the buildings and the many people around you. he smiled and hummed, pulling you closer to him as you guys set into an even pace alongside each other. "of course."

you guys had a limited time to spend off campus, and if you wanted to look around why would he not indulge you?

the village wasn't very big, as expected, and eventually, you found yourselves sitting down and just enjoying the rest of your ice cream. ─ or well, you tried.

"my ice cream!" you whined, holding it out in front of you as it melted and dripped onto the pavement. vil had long since finished his own during your sightseeing, but you were slow and now you were paying the price of trying to eat the half-finished cone while avoiding anything sticking to you. (you weren't doing a very good job.)

vil held a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his amusement in watching you ultimately fail in finishing your ice cream with as little mess as possible.

"maybe your ice cream should've been your first priority, we would've still had time to look around." vil teased, and you huffed.

"don't laugh at me."

he chuckled, "i'm not laughing at you, darling."

"you are!" you pouted.

"shouldn't you be worried about your ice cream?" he gestured to the still melting ice cream.

you turned back to the treat in your hand and deflated. you feigned a sniffle and stood to approach a trashcan nearby. when you returned, vil was waiting and holding out the napkins the two of you had thought to grab before you left to walk around. you sat next to him and continuted to pout as you took the napkins from him and began to clean off your hands.

"it's not funny."

"no, of course not." vil agreed, although he made no move to hide his smile.

you narrowed your eyes at the actor, before sighing dramatically, "my liege is so mean to me."

vil shook his head, but his smile remained as he took your face into his hands and used his thumb to wipe away what you assumed to be ice cream from the corner of your mouth. "am i?" he hummed, raising a brow in question as you continued to pout at him.

"yes," you sighed, trying to keep your mouth from forming into a smile.

"we still have time, do we not?"

you blinked, tilting your head in his hands and humming in thought, "yeah, i guess so."

vil released your face and grabbed your hand to pull you along as he stood, "i'll buy you another as an apology for laughing."

"in that case, i accept!"

oh, that was longer than intended erm. hope you like it sapphy!

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through an ai

[sadclowncentral]

about the sea: have you sailed along the southwestern edge of the baltic sea? if yes, could you describe the land and the shore and the water there? i’m doing a little infographic on the fall migration of european starlings from Latvia to the UK (via Denmark) and i’ve never been along that coast! google maps is ok, but cannot compare to someone’s lived experience. especially with the narrative similarities between sailing and flying

this is and remains my favourite ask I have ever gotten, and it took me some time to get it right. The Baltic southwest is in my unbiased opinion the most beautiful place in the world, all year round, and I could never do it justice in all of it’s facets and different faces it wears through the year. So here are some snapshots of the southwest islands through the year, both of the sea and the shore:

Langeland, Denmark in late spring

The southern tip of the island is so flat that it nearly vanished into the sea until you are right in front of it. The belts and straits of what is lovingly called the Danish south sea are a bright blue in the first sunny days of the year. Sometimes, close to shore, yellow-green pollen bloom even creates swirling patterns in the water. There is animals everywhere; birds settled in the quieter water of the bay, mostly seagulls and loons, but swans as well; if you are very lucky, a harbour porpoise will choose the wake of your ship to swim along with, and further east, you might even meet a seal or two. The coast is green fields and white turbines turning so fast that they are blurring before you. Between it all, a constant trail of huge container ships passes the straits, turning the sky close to the water grey with their exhausts. It all seems so warm, until a single cloud passing in front of the sun reminds you of the coldness of the air.

Fehmarn, Germany in early summer

The canola fields are still in full bloom, turning the whole island a bright, joyous yellow, interspersed with specks of red and blue from the field flowers, swishing in the wind. Bright yellow and bright green against the blue backdrop of the Baltic sea. The island and the land here are flat as a pancake, making it easy to see from shore to shore; only on its edges, like a crumpled paper, does the island lift up into sandy cliffsides that drop of dramatically into pebbled beaches. Standing on the beach, the water is a azure blue, and in the sun, the numerous sandbanks are clearly visible in the light turquoise. While the wind is ever present, it is subdued in early summer, but the jagged cliffs are a stark reminder of the violence of the winter storms. All trees lean towards the shore, gnarled branches disfigured by the wind; there is a reason we call it “the land that even trees bow for”.

Ven Island, Sweden in the middle of the summer

Coming from the open water up north, the island appears like a golden hill rising out of the sea. The grainfields in full bloom, the warm sandy beaches, and the sun behind it. Behind you, the Øresund gave you the perfect reprieve, watching cities and mixed tree forest pass by in turn on either side after the rough waters of the Kattegatt, where both North and Baltic sea crash together in a cacophony of wave pattern, shaking you and your boat around frantically over strong winds. Now, on Ven, it seems almost a lifetime ago, as you follow the soft roads winding up the island and watch as grain and water are dispersed by the wind in mirrored patterns, golden and green-blue.

Christiansø, Denmark in later summer

Arriving in Christiansø is always a wild ride. While the sun beats down in unrelenting brightness, the waves and wind that had time to build over the whole Baltic sea are so strong that salt crystals form on your face from the constant sea spray that hits you in the face. The island seems almost unreal – just jagged brown-grey teeth of rock rising out of the middle of the sea with no land visible in either direction for miles, with deepest blue water surrounding it, no ground in sight. The waves crash on the stubborn rocks with a loud crashing sound, and over all of that, the stubborn calls of birds that circle around the islands undeterred. On the island, the specks of green, of still water ponds and green grass (I don’t remember a single tree), seem almost comical against the rusted brown rocks. You stare out into the dark marine blue and watch the sunset through the roaring and screeching.

Rügen, Germany in early autumn

Auttumn has arrived, and with it, heavy clouds and heavier winds. The Baltic sea, as beautiful as it is in summer, as strong are the east wind storms that start belting down on the southwest from September onwards. Without the sunlight, the water has turned a deep angry green, but mostly white, as sea foam flies over gnashing waves. Sometimes, as the water rises past your ship, you can see the last moon jellyfish of the season in long tangled webs of kelp pass you by. The rain is soft and dispersed, but colder than the water and makes visibility low. But then, the northeast of the island comes into view, as darkness has already set in, and as the wind dies down and the clouds disperse the island shines in a blinding white, the chalk cliffs of the island rising above the water. The breaking off chalk turns the water here a pastel turquoise in the sun as it dispersed, but here now, it’s dark grey, just as the sky.

[venusphoriia]

— The Pain of Loving You

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Diana Prince x Fem! Reader

─ In the grief of losing one, she also lost you.

cw ཿ⠀ wlw. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of losing a loved one. mostly proof read. the reader speaks a little greek, but the translation could be wrong (sorry if it is (｡•́︿•̀｡)). 860 words.

ପ a/n ; might do a part 2 to this. i’ve been wanting to write for diana for a while now. a really quick story, i hope you enjoy!

She sees your smile in old photographs, newspapers, and paintings. To her, it was a sight that rivaled even the most magnificent artworks. She hears your laughter in her dreams, an endearing sound that makes her heart flutter. Her hand reaches out towards you, yearning to feel the warmth of your skin under her touch, but her fingertips are always met with the coldness of your absence.

The dull, painful ache pulls her from her slumber. She groans softly as she turns to stare at the ceiling. Another night’s rest ruined in the grief of loving you. Or perhaps, not loving you is the more appropriate expression for it. The loss of her previous love, a noble pilot who had managed to capture her heart, had made it difficult to fully love another.

She had loved you. She truly did, but she couldn’t love you the way you deserved—not then. So, she let you go. A brilliant researcher and journalist with an insatiable hunger to explore the world. She refused to let her heartache keep you from pursuing your dreams, no matter how much you were willing to stay. She can still feel the bitter ache from the argument that night, but regardless of your stubborn protests—she refused to let you allow your dreams to die for her.

You were given an opportunity, a once in a lifetime. She couldn’t let you pass that up—not for her. The sad smile you gave her as you fought back tears slips into her mind. She shuts her eyes in protest, trying to block out the memory, but the unwanted reminiscence persists.

She stood with you at the docks, her hands tenderly held yours. Your hands felt so cold despite the thickness of your gloves. The cold spring air betrayed the clear, sunny morning. The sight of a beautiful day was nearly as deceiving as the forced smile that rested on your lips. Your gaze was avoidant as you focused solely on her hands wrapped around yours.

“(Y/n)?” She called your name softly, quickly catching your attention. You looked up at her with teary eyes, your smile seeming more sorrowful by the second as you hummed softly in response. Her heart breaks, a brief moment of regret over her decision to let you go. In a moment of weakness, she almost wanted to plead with you to stay, “Stay safe.”

Almost. She doesn’t miss the way your smile faltered, the small hopeful look in your eyes dimming a bit more. She knew what you wanted her to say, but she wouldn’t. It would’ve only given you more of a reason to stay.

You cleared your throat, steadying your voice. Your posture straightened a bit as you tried to maintain your composure. You adjusted your smile, it was less forced—much more relaxed. Your voice wavered a bit, “I will…”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but stopped yourself. You looked away, laughing softly to yourself, trying to keep yourself from breaking down. She smiled softly as she watched you pick up your bags before looking back at her. The tears in your eyes looked as if they would fall in any minute, but the smile you gave her brought a pleasant feeling to her heart. You were never one for sad goodbyes, always finding them more heartbreaking than anything else, “It’s been wonderful knowing you, Diana.”

One final goodbye, she thought. She hummed softly in response, not being able to find it in herself to say the same in turn without tears following shortly after. You didn’t seem to mind though, walking onto the ship without so much as another glance. Another effort to save face Diana knew.

Once the ship blared its horn, parting its way with the docks, Diana turned to leave. She took a few deep breaths, pushing down the tears—along with the heartache. She tried to delude herself into thinking that these feelings weren’t so deep, that she wasn’t—

“Diana!” Your voice breaks through her thoughts. She looked back towards the boat, sailing away, seeing you leaning over the railing, waving to get her attention. Your smile was genuine, as pure as the sun painted in the sky, your tears slip from your eyes the moment they meet hers.

She hears you. She heard you. But for a second, she doubts she hears correctly—immediately believing it was just fabrication of her own delusions until she hears you yell it out again, just as proudly and longingly as the first.

“Σ'αγαπώ!”

A small, depressed laugh slips past Diana’s lips as all her efforts to hold her composure become futile. She breaks away from the memory and the tears come flowing all over again. She cries heavily, resting her arm over her eyes in embarrassment. She felt like a child, sobbing over something treasured and lost.

She knows her feelings of regret are reasonable, and so are her tears. She just wished you were here to soothe her back to sleep like you did all those years ago. She loves you. She truly does. She just wishes she could have another chance to love you the way you deserved.

[ “I love you” in Greek is Σ'αγαπώ (S'agapo). Here, Σε (se) means “you,” and αγαπώ (agapo) means “I love.” — fluentin3months.com ]

© venusphoriia 2024 — do not copy or repost any of my works on any other platform, please and thank you !! ( ˘ ³˘)♡

[builtbybrokenbells]

CAPITAL VICES | CAPITAL VIRTUES

The seven capital virtues, also known as contrary or remedial virtues, are those opposite the seven deadly sins. They are often enumerated as chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness, and humility.

Masterlist

Listen while reading: bed of roses - bon jovi

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of drinking, grief/loss of a parent, mentions of bad past relationships, fear/anxiety, mentions of sickness/illness, swearing, but mostly just fluff! sorry if i miss any!!

i couldn’t end this without a little sweetness to carry over until the next time. thank you all for every bit of love this story has received; you have made capital vices what it is, and i would not be here without you. sorry for any heartbreak I’ve caused, but I hope this suffices! this is finally the end, and although it is a chapter, it also serves as the epilogue. I love you all so very much, and as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!

The morning came as it always does, bright and unsuspecting, sneaky and sometimes even hostile. When you opened your eyes for the first time on that sunny Sunday morning, dangerously bordering the afternoon hours, you were in a better mood than you had ever been. Not even the disruptive rays of light washing over your face could irritate you, nor the cluster of birds chirping in your backyard. Your chest was light, free from the weight of sadness and finally relaxing after relentless tension. You could inhale and fill your lungs without a stabbing reminder of what you missed so dearly, and the scent of Jake lingered in your pillows and sheets, even clinging on to the fibers of the shirt you were wearing.

The morning can not be bad when you wake up to such an abundance of love and all things that come along with it.

You turned, half expecting to see Jake sleeping soundly next to you, hoping to catch sight of his peaceful expression as the sun illuminated his beautiful features. When you looked next to you, you were not met by soft snores and a mess of long, brown hair. The bed was empty, only a divot in the mattress to remind you of him and his company. Your stomach sank, wondering if he’d gone back home already. You tried to ignore the nagging disappointment that came along with the thought of him leaving without a goodbye. You rubbed sleep from your eyes, begging your body to wake up the same as your mind had. With an outstretch of your limbs and a long, exaggerated yawn, you managed to throw the blankets from your legs and face the cold air.

As you stepped out of bed, you noticed more signs of another human life housed inside your home. The disappointment fled your body, replaced with an urgent sense of excitement. Quiet clanging of pots and pans could be heard from the kitchen, as well as light footsteps and the soft sound of music. The closer you got to your bedroom door, the more you could hear it. You grabbed a pair of shorts to slip on as you walked towards the exit from your room, advancing slowly so you could soak up the sight and sear it into your memory. A smile blossomed on your cheeks as you slowed to a stop. Leaning against the doorframe, you gazed out into the kitchen, watching Jake, shirtless and unsuspecting, tend to a pan on the stove. The coffee maker was lit up with blue lights, signaling its own anticipation to be used. From his phone played a slow melody, and his movements were so gentle and calculated, almost as if he was trying his best to remain undetected.

You wanted to run to him, wrap your arms around him and kiss your way through the morning. You craved his hand on your hip and your arms slung around his neck, clumsily dancing to the soft music. You wanted to hear him speak your name, to let the low tone settle deep in your bones and make home there, just so the memory could remain indefinitely. Instead, you stood and stared. You wanted it so badly, but your body would not allow it. He was a person meant to be admired, and that’s exactly what you intended to do.

He did not notice you, nor did he even think to look over his shoulder and check. You had no idea how he was so oblivious to your eyes burning holes into him, but you were grateful for his ignorance. It allowed you to watch him, unashamed and uninterrupted as you familiarized yourself with all of the small details. The way his hair swooped down and settled on the bare, tanned skin of his back. The way the defined outline of his muscles showcased every flex and tense that happened with every small movement and sudden motion. The pair of sweatpants, settled low on his hips and leaving little to the imagination. You listened as he hummed the lyrics to himself, every so often growing increasingly more passionate about the song. His inability to multitask allowed for the toast to pop from the toaster and make him jump in surprise, then drew his attention so much that the pan became long forgotten.

He was perfection, and you were just the lucky one who was able to appreciate it in such a way. You did not deserve such an angel, gracing your kitchen in the late morning while you dozed away in another room. It was staggering, the difference between Jake Kiszka during the day and in the late hours of the night. In the darkness, his skin was as red as blood, a pitchfork in hand as he tried to hide the devil horns settled on his skull. In the light of morning? He omitted an aura of white light, appearing blessed by god himself as the shiny, golden halo sat perfectly atop his head. He was the most confusing entity you had ever encountered, and for some strange reason, it only made you fall for him harder.

As you watched him, you began to second guess every notion you had previously concluded about him. The glass seemed to unfog, quickly becoming crystal clear as you viewed him in a whole new way. The man in your kitchen did not seem unholy, or like he held any wicked power or desires. He was a man, unfathomably perfect in everything he did. His beauty was blinding, and his heart was full of love waiting to be given to you. There was no possible way the man in your home was anything less than angelic, and your earlier fear of the unholy seemed to deconstruct itself the longer you watched.

The constant unease that was so often felt in your stomach was gone, as was the fear that normally accompanied it. For the first time since you met him—no, for the first time in years, life seemed perfect.

The feeling you felt before succumbing to sleep was gone, replaced only with love and happiness. Jake was not an evil entity, and with your new found strength, it now seemed completely possible to repent for the mistakes you had made.

With him by your side, you knew you could do anything.

You could not resist the urge to touch him any longer, stepping out into the brightly lit kitchen and approaching him with caution. When you were close enough, you extended your arm and placed your hand on his back, just over his shoulder blade. He jumped only slightly, realizing immediately that it was you from the calming effect of your touch. You placed your other hand on his bicep, stepping even closer and cornering him into the counter. You pressed your chest against his back, turning your head downwards placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He said, his voice still laced with sleepiness. He let you stay in your position only for a moment before turning to face you. You gazed up at his face, stars dancing in your eyes as you gave him a soft smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” you hummed, neglecting to tell him that it was only because he was with you “and you?”

“Fantastically, ‘cause it was with you.” He did not seem to have any shame about the fact. Your cheeks dusted red at the sweetness of his words. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. He lingered there for a second, but eventually had to move on to tend to the food cooking on the stove. You couldn’t help but frown, wishing that the moment could have lasted for a little while longer.

“Breakfast?” You asked, moving to the coffeemaker to hit the brew button. You placed a cup underneath before turning to face him again. He looked back over his shoulder, a sheepish look on his face.

“Is that okay?” You thought about it for a moment, pretending to ponder the question.

“Of course it is, Jake.” You assured him, giving him a nod.

With that, the first heavenly virtue began to fill the room. Pride was non-existent, now replaced with a newfound sense of humility. Before, you were so stuck in your own ways that the simple idea of breakfast made you sick to your stomach. You could not digest the idea of showing or sharing emotional intimacy with him, but now, it was easier than falling asleep. In truth, humility had began to take over long before that moment. The night prior, when you bit your tongue and allowed him to speak his mind despite your belief that you were doing the right thing, your prideful behaviour was long forgotten. As he poured his heart out to you over a dozen roses and countless tears, you were no longer the most important, nor the one with the right answers. You swallowed your pride and allowed yourself to view things from his perspective, thus allowing the two of you to communicate effectively.

But, humility was not the first; in fact, the first virtue had appeared the night before, blooming alongside the begging of humility, when you were still convinced that evil coursed through his veins and bled into your own. When he showed up at your doorstep with nothing but love in his heart, you responded with patience instead of the wrath the two of you so often found yourselves in. You held the capacity to accept and delay your own suffering in an attempt to listen to his. You could have slammed the door, or argued until you were blue in the face without ever acknowledging that you might not be right or know best. It was something you so often did, but you loved him enough to hear his words without allowing your own emotions to get in the way. You loved Jake enough to be patient, which was something you had never done before in your entire life.

“Unless you had something else in mind?” He asked, switching off the element of the stove and pushing the pan to the side. He made sure that there was no fire hazards before returning to you. His hand settled on your hip and his index finger moved to your chin, guiding your head upwards. He was so close that it made your head spin and your heart thud against your chest dramatically.

“Like?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him. His nose was brushing against your own, his lips just barely parted from you.

“Continuing what we were doing last night?” He offered. You let out a small chuckle, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. The kiss was short, sweet but effective in its simplicity.

“As tempting as that is, no.” You shook your head, your lips still lingering over his. “I want to have breakfast with you, Jake.” At the sound of your words, he nearly fell to his knees. “I want to be with you, just like this.”

“We can do that, angel.” He breathed, smiling down at you. “Go sit, I’ll be right over.” He motioned towards the kitchen table.

“Okay.” You agreed, giddy at the thought of domesticity with him. As you sat down, you felt an oddly warm feeling wash over you. It felt like freedom, and it felt so good. Not once had you approached Jake and shown him such vulnerability without hopes of something sexual in return. Actually, you weren’t sure if you had ever approached him with vulnerability first; he always seemed to be the one to pry the emotion from you. It was a beautiful thing to be able to love someone with no hesitation, and loving him made it all the more special.

Just like that, lust was destroyed by chastity. You had overcome the biggest obstacle that was in the way of opening your hearts to each other. You could rely on one another without the need for sex, and you could show him and express that you cared for him without taking your clothes off. Lust was the very thing that created your relationship, yet if you continued on the same path of prioritizing sexual pleasure over emotional connection, you would meet a tragic end. In that one fraction of a second, you had shown him that he was more than sex, and what he offered did not solely exist within the bedroom. You even believed that you could live a long and happy life without ever having sex with him again, because sitting down and sharing a meal was just as fulfilling as anything else.

You loved Jake for all he was, but the urge to sleep with him was still pressing despite your desire to do something as simple as share breakfast. Instead of acting on it, you surpressed your desire for him and gave him a warm smile as he placed a plate in front of you. It would be too easy, too predictable to throw everything else aside for something as superficial as sex. In the last five years of your life, sex had grown into something completely meaningless to you. What you were doing, sitting down, sipping coffee and sharing laughs, was the most meaningful thing you’d ever done. It was coated with meaning, almost so much so that you struggled to wrap your head around it.

You were done with superficialities; you wanted him to know you wholly and completely, without any defence or fear. You were tired of just sharing enough to keep him around, but never enough for him to know you. As you watched him eat the meal he had prepared for you both, you knew that Jake was the person you wanted to share your soul with. He was the only person who you trusted with it, and he was the only person who would protect it as if his life depended on it. The last three months had shown you enough of him for you to fall in love, but now you were the one who needed more. You needed every secret, to know where his body held scars from his childhood, and what his favorite subject in school was. You needed to hear about his parents, and all of the funny stories about his siblings from their youth. You needed it desperately, and you needed it now.

“Were you always close with your siblings? Or did that come with age?” You asked, looking at him over the top of your mug as you took a sip. He gave you a questioning look as he pondered your words.

“We’ve always been close.” He deducted, nodding his head as he answered. “I mean, we fought, but we’ve always been best friends.”

“Hmm,” you smiled, looking down at your plate. “I think the idea of you and Josh fighting is hilarious.”

“Well, there’s been lots of fights, and I’m sure there will be more to come.” He laughed quietly at the memories flooded his mind.

“What was your favourite subject in school?” You asked, catching his gaze again.

“Nothing.” He chuckled.

“Oh, come on.” You rolled your eyes. “There had to be one class you liked.”

“Music class in the ninth grade.” He said, smirking at your annoyed expression. “And I liked gym class.”

“Typical teenage boy.” You smiled.

“School wasn’t really my thing, but I made it through. Turns out you don’t need calculus to play a guitar, so it didn’t matter much in the end, anyway.”

“Guess so.” You agreed. “Did you break the rules a lot? You seem like the type.”

“Every now and again.” He shrugged, giving a sheepish smile. “What about you?”

“Never.” You laughed, finding the thought blasphemous. “My parents would have killed me. I liked school, and I was good at it. Did lots of extracurriculars and stuff, and always went to bed at ten.”

“Goody-two shoes?” He teased, making your cheeks burn red. “I’m just joking, sweetheart.” He said, reaching across the table and giving your hand a small squeeze.

“I was,” you sighed. “My sister was, too, so I guess my parents did great at their jobs.” You reminisced on your younger years as you spoke. “My favorite class was calculus, though, so watch what you say about it.”

“Calculus was your favorite?” He held back a laugh at the idea. “I didn’t think anyone’s favorite class was calculus.”

“What can I say,” you shrugged “I like math. It makes sense to me.”

“Okay,” he agreed, feeling no need to challenge it any further. “What about you and your sister? Were you always close?”

“Yes and no.” You pondered back on your relationship with her. “When we were very young, we fought all of the time. For a little while, we could barely even be in the same room. When we hit double digits, I think we finally realized we were stuck with each other, then we tried to be friends. By high school, we were inseparable, save for a few fights. Now I couldn’t imagine what life would be like without her.” You explained, leaning back in your chair and smiling at your own shenanigans. “My dad used to say we got along like a house on fire. When we were small, he called us little devils.”

“Hard to believe you would fight with anyone,” he smirked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. You gave him a small chuckle, unable to find an argument. You loved to argue, and you loved being right. Unfortunately, he had seen that side of you more than he’d seen anything else. He was quiet for a moment, then he took in a long breath, as if he was debating whether to speak again. Then, he found the courage and opened his mouth again. “Tell me about your dad.” You looked up at him, stunned at the bluntness of his words. “If you want to, of course.”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered. You were shocked at his desire to know, because you had envisioned a life for yourself in which you would never be asked that question, and by doing so, you thought that you would never have to answer it. You dreaded talking about it because it was the hardest thing you had ever gone through, but now that you were faced with it, the prospect of telling him seemed enticing. Your dad was your whole world, and sharing his memory with Jake only made sense to you; he was the only person you felt would honor him the same way you did.

“He was the best man you could ever meet, and I don’t think I’m saying that because I’m biased.” You treaded carefully, trying to find the best way to phrase your thoughts. “He was loved by everyone, and the only people that didn’t like him were the ones who did wrong first. He was funny, he was caring, and he was so smart. I don’t think I ever remember him raising his voice, and even until the very end, he was as happy as ever.” Jake nodded along as you spoke, showing you that he was listening to every word. “He loved sports, and music, and he got up hours early to make us all breakfast on Saturday mornings without fail.” You smiled at the memory, wondering if you would ever taste another pancake that was as good as your father’s recipe.

“He was there for every school event and parent teacher meeting, and he was always so excited to help us with homework. He watched football religiously and he drank margaritas because he thought beer was disgusting. He used to play us guitar when he put us to bed, and he read us stories with the books upside down so we couldn’t read ahead of him.” Jake laughed at the thought, a real one that came straight from his chest. You caught his eye, the glisten of tears quickly turning into adoration for him. Suddenly, you wondered why you ever wanted to hide your life from him at all. You wanted him to know everything, and you wanted him to share the laughs and the tears and most of all, the love.

“He was my best friend, and to this day, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who understands me like he did. He taught me everything I know, and I am who I am because of his love. He knew the words to every Van Halen song and he dedicated all his spare time trying to play one song as good as Stevie Ray Vaughan.” You closed your eyes, remembering the relentless riffs that floated through the morning air in your childhood home. “He never could, but we always told him he did.”

“Not many can,” Jake corrected, defending his talent. You nodded in agreement, knowing he was right.

“He taught me how to love art and music and most of all, photography. He used to take pictures of us all on those disposable cameras all hours of the day. I’m sure he went through ten a week.” You nearly rolled your eyes at the thought of how many ridiculous pictures existed of you. “When he started getting sick, it didn’t seem like anything changed until… all of it did.” You let out a shaky breath, the strength of the emotion so strong that it made your stomach churn. “He got sick when I was in the tenth grade, and it took a while for him to realize that he was sick. He came home from the doctor and he didn’t change a thing. He did homework with us, he played guitar, he drank his margaritas while he watched football, and I think that all of us had a hard time processing that something was wrong because he never acted like it.” He hummed, giving your hand another gentle squeeze to encourage you to keep going.

“When he went to the hospital for the first time, I was in the eleventh grade. I think that was when I finally understood that something was wrong. He only stayed for a couple of days, but when he came home, we could finally see the difference in him.” You paused, looking down at the table to gather your thoughts. “He stopped playing guitar, and he stopped drinking margaritas. Football still played on the T.V., but I don’t think he was really watching it anymore. He took pictures, but not as often, and breakfast on Saturdays was very much on the back burner compared to everything else going on.”

“He was there, but he wasn’t.” He tried to put your ramblings into the proper words. It was like living with a ghost, and that was the only way you knew how to explain it.

“Yeah, exactly.” You breathed. “We had him for longer than we deserved, but I can’t help but feel selfish when I wish that we could have had him forever.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish at all, beautiful.” He shook his head. “It sounds like he was fantastic, and I wish I could have met him.”

“He would have adored you.” You chuckled, smiling softly at the idea. “He always told me to find someone who encourages me to stand up after I fall, rather than someone who picks me up off the ground. He wanted me to find someone who made me laugh, who listened, and most of all, who loved me like he loved my mom. If I knew my dad, he would have known that you were that person the minute he laid eyes on you.”

“I don’t know how your dad loved your mom, but by the sounds of it, it was with all of his heart.” Jake said, waiting for you to look up at him. When you caught his eye, he continued on. “And with you, that’s all I plan to do.” He gave you a smile, one that spoke louder than any of his previous words.

“I, uh,” you paused, clearing your throat to rid yourself of the tears rising in it. “I don’t talk about my dad a lot, not because I don’t want to, but because I’ve always felt like nobody was worth it. To know, or to know about him is a privilege, and I don’t think a lot of people deserve it. I know that you do, and I’d love to tell you all about him.”

“Whenever you want to tell me, I’ll be more than happy to listen.”

Temperance crushed any gluttony that remained within the two of you. How easy it would have been to forgo breakfast and take him to bed, and how badly you wanted it was incomprehensible. The two of you had solidified the notion that sex was most important many times, but now it no longer seemed to be so pressing. Knowing him, and him knowing you was the only thing that mattered. You were able to put your gluttonous habits to the side and show enough self-restraint to look beyond the surface. There was more to Jake than a pretty face and a devastatingly intoxicating charm. There were thoughts, values and beliefs that you did not know a thing about, yet craved to hear. But, temperance was only getting started, and there was so much more you wanted to discover.

“Can you play guitar for me?” You asked, almost out of nowhere. You’d been desperate to hear his hands work magic on the fretboard after using his music as lullabies all week.

“Oh, y-yeah.” He said, excited but caught off guard. There was so much you needed and wanted from him, and you felt like you had already wasted too much time. You weren’t willing to miss out on another moment of knowing him.

You reached your hand out to him, blinking away any sadness still remaining in your eyes as you both rose to your feet. You abandoned whatever was left on your plates and took off down the hallway in a mess of hushed giggles and smiled. You opened the door to the room that held so many memories, the last one not so pleasant in your mind. Instead of focusing on the hurt, you made a promise to yourself to replace all of the bad with the good. You took a seat on your piano bench as he grabbed the guitar from the stand, stopping for a moment to admire the frames hung on the wall.

“You take stunning pictures, y/n.” He said, taking a long look over a few photographs you had hung from a photoshoot you’d done with your sister and her dogs. “I’ve never seen such a good picture of a dog before.” He laughed, leaning it to get a closer look at the portrait of her Golden Retriever.

“Thank you.” You smiled, allowing him to take as much time as he wanted. Before, you were afraid of him knowing you so well. Your work was your most precious treasure, and him knowing all about it broke down a barrier you had worked so hard at building. Now, watching his wondrous expression and a charming smile, you wanted to share every photograph you had ever taken. He made you feel a pride in your work that surpassed anything you’d ever felt before. As he walked around the room, studying the frames, you hit a couple notes on the piano. Eventually, it sparked a desire in you to play more.

You began a slow descent into song often heard over the car radio when your father drove you to school. You drew it out, having fun with it after going so many days without playing. You did not notice, too caught up in the echoing sound of the piano bouncing off of the walls, but Jake's head turned away from the frames and was now pointed in your direction. His eyes were fixated on your face, drinking in the small expressions you made as your hands glided across the keys. A smile was on his lips as he settled the guitar strap around his neck, listening intently as he adjusted the tuning pegs. As you continued to play, he began plucking the strings in time with your hands.

“Sitting here wasted and wounded

At this old piano

Trying hard to capture

The moment this morning I don't know

'Cause a bottle of Vodka's still lodged in my head

And some blonde gave me nightmares

Think that she's still in my bed

As I dream about movies

They won't make of me when I'm dead.” You sang, looking over the top of the piano to catch Jake’s eye. He was already looking, sending you a smile as if to say ‘keep going’.

“With an ironclad fist

I wake up and french kiss the morning

While some marching band keeps its own beat in my head

While we're talking

About all of the things that I long to believe

About love, the truth, what you mean to me

And the truth is

Baby you're all that I need.” The subliminal message in the lyrics was astounding, and he felt it just as strongly as you did. You played a small run, watching him as he took a step closer to you. As you opened your mouth to keep singing, he joined in, too.

“I want to lay you down in a bed of roses

For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails

Oh I want to be just as close as the Holy Ghost is

And lay you down on a bed of roses.” The two of you finished together, stars dancing in your eyes and hearts hanging in the air. You were so in love with each other that it was hard to think of anything else.

“Well I'm so far away

Each step that I take is on my way home

A king's ransom in dimes, I'd give each night

To see through this payphone

Still I run out of time

Or it's hard to get through

Till the bird on the wire flies me back to you

I'll just close my eyes and whisper

"Baby, blind love is true".” You let him sing the next verse alone, completely enthralled by his voice. He was such a beautiful singer that it made you wonder why he did not do it more often. You could listen to him sing songs of nothing but tragedy and still shed tears over the beauty.

“I want to lay you down in a bed of roses

For tonight I'll sleep on a bed of nails

Oh I want to be just as close as the Holy Ghost is

And lay you down on a bed of roses.” You began to trail off early, both of you done singing and ready to lay the song to rest. You wanted to kiss him more than you wanted to finish the song, and when it came to Jake, you knew he would always be the most important. He played a tiny riff on the guitar to finish it off, smiling to himself as he looked back up at you.

“Bon Jovi?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“My dad loved him.” You shrugged. “You should sing more often.”

“So should you.” He retorted without missing a beat. You both failed to bring up the fact that you had just shared so many intimate details with each other without even trying. “So, you think you’ll finally give my music a shot?” He asked, coming over to sit next to you.

“Don’t have to ‘give it a shot’,” you laughed, air quoting your words, “that solo in ‘The Weight Of Dreams’ could make anyone fall in love with you. I fell in love with it the minute I heard it.” The look of surprise on his face was apparent, and he could not seem to hide it. He certainly wasn’t expecting to hear you say that you had already listened, but especially not to hear you say the name of one of his songs.

“Y-you… you, uh…” he blinked a couple times, trying to process the new information. “You listened to it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, speaking softly. “Every night after… yeah.” You cut yourself off. “It helped me sleep.”

“Oh,” he breathed, looking over your sheepish expression. He felt sad that he was not there to share the experience with you, but he was touched to hear such sentiments. “Well, you don’t have to use Spotify anymore, sweetheart. I’ll play you guitar until my fingers fall off.” He chuckled, reaching over and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Whatever you want to hear, whenever you want to hear it.”

Slowly and quietly, generosity began to emerge and greed began to fade. Before, you had been so greedy that you wanted all of him without having to give anything back. Now, you wanted all of him, and you were willing to give him all of you in exchange for it. You no longer had a guard on your heart, wanting to bear it to him in the most intimate displays. As much as you wanted to know him, you wanted him to have all of you just the same.

“I’m sorry that I was so difficult, Jake.” You said, leaning into the soft touch of his hand. “I wish we could have done this a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, too.” He said, running his thumb across your cheek. “That girl at the bar… I was so stupid, angel. You are the only thing I have ever wanted, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am for hurting you.”

“Scott wasn’t anything, either.” You confessed. “I just wanted to make you feel the same way I felt. It was gross, and I don’t want to do that again. I want to love you, Jake. I want to put all of the bad stuff aside and start over. I want us to be happy and I want this to be healthy, and I’m willing to do whatever I can to make it work.”

“I am too, sweetheart.” He leaned over, careful not to disturb the guitar in his lap. He pressed a kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment to enjoy the sweetness.

Charity replaced envy, allowing the two of you to show kindness and tolerance while judging each other. In the moment, emotion was so powerful that it was difficult to see the truth behind the situation. Now, you could both clearly understand that the hurtful words and actions stemmed directly from your own broken hearts. You did not want to hurt each other, nor did you want to make things worse. You were doing what you thought was best at the time to heal your own heartbreak. The pain had settled and allowed the two of you to see each other exactly as you were. You were so in love with each other that it made your head spin and your stomach twist with butterflies, and you were so regretful for how you treated each other. Moving on was what you intended to do, and leaving everything in the past was the only way to do it.

“I love you, y/n.” He whispered, his lips still lingering over your own.

“I love you, Jake.” You replied, smiling at the thought. “Thank you for taking a chance on me.”

“The only person that deserves to be thanked is you.” He corrected. “I want to love you better than anyone ever has. You deserve the world, and I want to be the person who can give it to you.”

“You already do.” You assured him. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Be mine, angel?” He asked, pulling back with a hopeful expression. The three simple words took your breath away. The prospect of being his was more comforting than anything you’d ever felt before. You didn’t know how to love, or even what it meant to be in a relationship anymore, but you knew you wanted to try with him. For him, you would do anything.

“Of course, Jake.” You nodded, leaning in and pressing another kiss to his lips. In that moment, all of the sin seemed to wash away. The evil you had done was replaced with your virtuous love. The devil was not before you, nor was he within you. You were two people who loved each other endlessly and equally, trying to atone for the mistakes you had made while navigating such a profound journey. “I would love nothing more.” With one last smile, he pulled you into one last kiss, showcasing just how happy he was to know that he was yours and you were his.

You were not people of god, nor were you the devil's disciples; you were yourself, and Jake was Jake. You were two regular human beings who could make each other happy, but also had the luxury of making mistakes. There was no evil in the room, nor was there a white light and halos above your heads. You had sinned, and you had practiced virtues, but most of all, you learned to love each other efficiently and properly. You could communicate clearly, and you could open up without fear of rejection or disappointment. He was a charming man with an intoxicating personality, and you were a witty hot-head who stole his heart. Your skin was not red, nor were there devil horns atop your head. Your fear of him had little to do with any wicked powers, but everything to do with your inability to understand the effect he had on you.

Jake made it easier to fall in love than anyone ever had, and falling in love had never been your forte. You were terrified of love, but loving him was too euphoric to deny. With time, you knew that you could grow comfortable with all the things you once feared, and it was because he was the one holding your hand and helping you through it. Jake would not solve your problems, but that was okay. You can be your own worst enemy, or you can be your biggest inspiration; this time, instead of letting your fears paralyze you, you decide to lead yourself into an era of love and light. You guided yourself through the darkest times, and you would continue to do so until the end of time, but he would always be there to support you through it.

In him, you found a best friend and a confidant. You found something you did not believe existed, and something you thought was only true in fiction. You found a safe place to rest and somewhere to call home, a hug on the coldest of days and a rush of fresh air when it was difficult to breathe. You wanted to love him until you collapsed under the weight of your own adoration, and until you were long forgotten and had become one with the earth. In every lifetime, you would search for him, and in every universe, you would love him just the same.

Your sin had caught up to you, but you were strong enough to repent from the wrath of the devil. You were equally as virtuous as you were wicked, and it was the whole point of being alive; making mistakes and struggling is to be expected, but to go forth despite the failure is the only way to survive. You were human beings with apparent flaws, yet you loved each other enough to see past the mistakes and move forward despite them. Past the darkness, you found something you worried you would never experience, and now he was the only thing that mattered. You would go through every struggle and all of the pain all over again if it meant you would end up in his arms. He was worth it, and you had no doubt in your mind about it.

Your last virtue took over as you rested in his arms. Sloth had caused neglect in the grand aspect of your lives. You avoided telling each other about your feelings, and you avoided the yearning felt in your hearts. Now, diligence was in the air, and it was much more powerful that any of the sins you had committed. You were committed to happiness, and you were both able and willing to put careful and persistent work into making the relationship as happy and as healthy as possible. You would work until your body collapsed from exhaustion, and you would not complain about a single thing, because you were the lucky, and the only one to be able to fall in love with Jake Kiszka.

The End

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

[mill-s]

HOW IS THE SKY FEELING TODAY ?

~a small gojo drabble

warning: none, a bit angsty

~1.1k

It was yet another rainy day. And as much as you loved the rain, it has ben 13days now of constant rain and it was getting too much.

You didn’t understand, and no one was understanding why such weather was going over your head for about two weeks now. Even the meteorologist’s predictions didn’t concorde. For them, it was sunny, but the sky was just crying over and over again.

And your heart was clenching.

Deep inside, you knew something was wrong. All this was the cause of a person or someone in an agonizing pain. It has to, it was the only explanation. And so, you decided it was your mission to solve it. And mostly to help this sad heart.

That’s how your journey began. You weren’t the only one on the case, humans and sorcerers were searching for the cause of it all. Rummaging all places across the country, exercising every curse hiding. Places have never been clearer. But the sky was still crying. Over and over again.

26 days have past and on the 27th it was different. Outside, it wasn’t rain you were seeing anymore, but snow. Little white pearls were falling from the sky this morning.

“The sky is cold today”, you thought out loud.

“The sky does not have feelings Y/n. Why do you keep thinking that every day?” That voice of her startled you and put you out of your thoughts.

“I don’t know Shoko, I just feel it, it’s like a string is attached from my heart to the sky and I can feel everything.”

“Then find a solution, talk to it and keep the rain away, I’m tired of it.” She retorted.

“It’s snowing today tho” you opened the window and put your arm outn feeling the snowflakes land in your hand and immediately disappear. “It’s pretty” And you were happy that since the grounds were so wet, snow couldn’t stay just becoming another raindrop into a puddle.

Pure white snow just made you sick to your stomach now.

“Last time it snowed in Tokyo maybe the sky was cold but at least our hearts were warm” It was very unlike Shoko to be sentimental like th- “If it doesn’t stop, we gonna drown and I deserve a more honourable death than that.” She sighed “Shitty weather, shitty life. We just need to get the fuck out of here and let the sorcerer life behind us. We have enough money to live a century with all the compensations that we got” There she was, it’s like I almost missed her.

“I’ll be going out. See if I can find something today.”

She hummed “Get me cigs on your way ack pretty”.

“M’kay, love you.”

“Yea yea, love ya. Now let me read in peace and stop with your weird string shit.”

Boy it was freezing outside. Even with your puffy jacket and his old scarf you were cold. The faint smell of him that still linger on it kept your heart a little bit warm but the strong smell of wood in his perfume was slowing leaving place to the one of humidity as you entered an abandoned building. The silence was often cut by the sound of a waterdrop and it was very dark inside.

Little noises were echoing inside this cold and empty place “Curses must have stay hidden inside.” You thought but as you try to feel cursed energy around you, you felt.. nothing. “Weird.”

Closing your eyes, concentrating, searching every little corner for curse energy you still found nothing. You frowned and started feeling every detail of this building without paying any mind to your surroundings that you missed the little creature coming towards you and slowly touching your ankle.

“AAAAAAHHH! Spiders I hate freaking spiders!” you screamed as you took a step back waving your hands in the air and closing your eyes. “Ah. What a weak sorcerer you must be if you fear a little innocent spider like this” his words resonated in your head as you remembered one of your first encounters.

But as you opened your eyes, you weren’t expecting to see..

“Meow”

A cat?!

What was that kitten doing in a place like this. “hi you” you said as you bended over, slowly approaching your hand to its face so it could sniff you and let you touch it. “What are you doing alone here?”

“Meow”

He was little, probably 3 months old, yet so fluffy already or so it seems. Its white fur was now grey and brown covered in dust and mud, looked starved, wet and cold, and has its eyes closed.

“Poor baby look at you” “Meow”

It was answering every time as you talked to it more with a baby voice.

And when you finally look at it again, after taking it in your arms and petting his head you saw it.

Bright blue eyes.

So blue.

So bright.

Piercing right through your eyes.

But totally making your heart clench. Mesmerized by this little furball, bawling your eyes out in the middle of an empty building.

It meowed again, and again, looking at you before posing its paw on your jaw. The action made you stifle a laugh.

“I’m fine kitty, don’t worry” “Meow”,

It was almost as you could feel worry in its voice.

“Let’s get your home hm” you said smiling.

“Almost though you died back there. Did you get my cigs? I don’ have any left.” Shoko tells you as you entered her office.

“Nope. But I got this, look!” you exclaimed happily showing her the kitty sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“A cat, seriously Y/n…” she facepalmed “Aren’t you allergic or something and that’s why you didn’t let G-“

“I don’t care Sho,” you pout “it was lonely and cold, I couldn't just let it to die like this. And beside that’s why you exist hm? You can heal m- sneeze”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Pleeeease”

“Fine, I will try to make something for you when I have the time.”

You spent your evening making him take a bath, doing all you can to warm him up, feeding him and you both passed out cuddling on your bed.

You woke up by the sun hitting your face. Outside, was a a big blue sky and a sun shining as its brightness.

“As blue as your eyes hm” you said to your kitten who was peacefully sleeping between your boobies. You laughed at the sight.

“You really are just like him yea” he purred as you start to pet his head.

From now on, the sky was only happy and warm.

I was feeling a bit gloomy about gojo today and thought of this, 🤧

hope you will like it <3

@chandeliermichel saw it first, thank you love

[em0-alpaca]

after like over half a year or smth i finally finished him

meet Dante, the master of light!!! [srry for the bad english, i dont think ive ever written lore for any of my ocs lol]

HIS LORE IS STILL A WIP SO SOME THINGS MIGHT NOT WORK WITH CANON!! [i might miss some details, but thats because i dont wanna write too much]

plus in my au, Wu met Morro when the Elemental Alliance was created already and before Acronix and Krux betrayed them. [if.. thats not already canon lol, i dont keep up with when anything happened]

_____________________________________________

THE PAST:

[12-16 y.o.]

- He was one of the most determined and challenging teenagers, training hard.

- Dante has been the youngest member of the Elemental Alliance, making him the main interest as every single elemental master trained him. [his parents went to a journey, leaving him with Wu ans Garmadon at the monastery and they never came back. no one knows what happened to them, although, that didnt effected him much as he was often left with Wu.]

- when Dante was 16 years old, Morro was taken in under the blonde man wings. At first he didnt like it, but after some time he grew warmer to the jet-black haired boy, taking him for a younger brother and training with him. He mightve gotten more protective over him.

- Dante, too, believed that Morro was the green ninja after Wu talked about it, encouraging him and and lifting his hopes up subconsiously. the rest of the story is obvious.. this was one of the moments that really affected him.

- as he watched the EA fall apart, he craved for more power to fight against evil and find his little brother. he was told his whole life that he should never take his power for granted as its one of the strongest elements, especially with him being exposed to the main source of light very often. Dante, on the other hand, couldnt really deal with others leaving.

HIS ABILITIES:

- can bend and materialize light into weapons [his weapon of choice were mostly his light blades, but anything dual wielded was fine for him].

- he could move at the speed of light, often did it to attack his enemies from suprise [not a stealthy ability as he leaves glowing bright lights behind him when using it].

- can flashbang others by either throwing a small light ball at their eyes or snapping his fingers.

- as hes pretty strong during sunny days, at night and on cloudy days he usually uses weapons from Wu. [that doesnt mean he cant use his elemental power, but during his youth his power wasnt so strong with absence of the sun. it only changed what weapons he uses though]

[18- 27y.o.?]

- one night after sneaking out to clear his mind, a strange figure approached him. it was a tall one, hidden under the black cloak. everyone knew who Dante was, so with no beating around the bush, the mysterious man gave him an offer in joining him. green haired boy declined his offer immediately, but after what he heard he was shocked.. the mysterious man told him that he would help him find his so-called younger brother.

- after making him believe he can erase the evil from all of the ninjago he joined the cult. They burned the mark on his face to officialy take him as their member, making him their leader. the longer he stayed with them, the more corrupted and brainwashed he was, turning him into their weapon. they formed a plan, making an elemental burst and trying to erase "the evil".

- one day, he started his journey to look for Morro, going for days and days into every part of Ninjago, only to find his cold body in the Cave of Despair. he grieved him for a good few hours before finding a field to bury him and let him rest in peace.

- his desire for ubspeakable strenght grew bigger, forcing him into trying to create artificial element of light and mixing it with his own. this, unfortunalety, worked horribly with his mental state and making him more of a villain. when he attacked the city once, Wu was devastated and tried to help him. this lead them to have a fight with Wu desparately trying to convince him and change his mind. Wu after that meeting tried to talk with other elemental masters to stop Dante.

- when the city got under Dantes control after the cult betrayed him and he fought with the new-built Elemental Alliance, he used the Elemental burst. unfortunately, his light element mixed with the artificial one made him fail to destroy anything other the city. this, made him half-blind and left him scarred on his limbs, losing his power.

- after that he finally snapped out of his sinister desires and managed to ran away unnoticed from the city somewhere far away.

PRESENT [WIP]:

[30↑]

- he lives far far away from the town and anyone else in a small cottage house out of shame.

- if necessary, he comes out of the house in disguise to buy some food. hes had various jobs already, but his bad eyesight [no glasses helped with his vision] he couldnt work in too many for too long.

- his elemental power was slowly recovering, but due to the fact that it was corrupted and mixed with the artificial one, it was infecting his body, making it age slower and weakening him over time.

- after so many years he started recieving money in his mail.. perhaps from someone with a kind heart?

- he tries to stay away from anyone with elements and people who couldve been a part of a terror he caused, especially away from Wu.

_____________________________________________

ive been thinking of making another oc [his child] so for now im not planning on adding too much!!

im not really sure what to add to him in present Dante, but im up for any ideas. :) also i was too lazy to draw more doodles lol!

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Overlord Niffty backstory because why not

She was born Nancy Sada in 1931 to two first-generation Japanese immigrants in middle America. She had a relatively happy childhood, mostly confined to her local Japanese American community. However, after the US entered WWII, she was suddenly under enormous pressure to acculturate herself into mainstream American society in order to prove her and her family's loyalty to the country.

As she aged, Niffty developed an obsession with perfection– being the perfect American, the perfect woman, the perfect everything. She began molding herself to fit these roles, making herself smaller, sweeter, more demure, all in hopes of achieving the ideal self. It wreaked havoc on her self-esteem and mental health, and more often than not it felt as though it was all in vain since society was so hostile to her due to her ethnicity.

However, when she was 19, Niffty finally made some progress towards her goal of achieving the post-war ideal; a handsome young man had taken an interest in her. Niffty jumped at the opportunity, falling head-over-heels for him (or at least, the idea of him), and agreeing to marry him the moment he asked. This was it. She had the perfect, all American husband and she was going to be his perfect wife.

Things were fine for a while. Niffty was perfectly happy to stay home running the household all day while her husband was at work. She enjoyed housework and even if she was a bit lonely, she knew she'd make friends with the other women in the neighborhood eventually, and if not, then her future children would fill her days. But as time went on, that sunny outlook started to seem more and more naive. The neighborhood women were cold to her due to her ethnicity, she wasn't getting pregnant no matter how hard she tried, and her husband was becoming increasingly callous and neglectful, treating her more like a maid than a wife.

The isolation took its tool on Niffty and she started edging her way towards a nervous breakdown. She tried to suppress her anxieties by committing even harder to the Perfect Housewife persona, but that only made things worse as now she was not only unhappy, she was failing at her goals. Things eventually came to a head in 1953, when she discovered her husband had been cheating on her with someone at work. Niffty felt as though her world was crumbling around her and, in a fit of rage and grief, she stabbed her husband to death with a kitchen knife. The neighbors heard the screams and called the police, who promptly shot Niffty three times in the chest when she refused to drop the knife.

Niffty was devastated when she woke up in Hell. She'd spent her entire life being as sweet and kind and good as possible, but all of it had been for nothing. She'd killed the person who was supposed to be the center of her world and was now damned for eternity because of it. She'd failed. Despite how heartbroken she felt, Niffty wasn't willing to just roll over and die or let herself be swept up in the violence of Hell. She was only 22– she wanted to live, and live well at that. She'd wasted her whole life being good and submitting to everyone who crossed her path and it'd gotten her nowhere, so why not try the opposite?

Niffty never did things by halves. She fully committed herself by seizing back her agency by any means necessary. Using her small size and cute demeanor to her advantage, she started carving out a life for herself in Hell. She got herself a job in the fashion industry (one of her great passions in life that she'd abandoned for her husband) as a seamstress and settled into a typical sinner's life. However, she wasn't satisfied with the state of things for long; she didn't want to just be another face in the crowd, she wanted to make her mark on the world.

Slowly, she started tricking people into contracts. It wasn't hard– so many sinners saw her as weak and harmless that they easily agreed to deals that they would've been far more cautious of had they been dealing with a more physically intimidating demon. Networking, exchanging favors for favors, building up her status– all of it paid off in the end when the previous Overlord of the fashion industry was killed, leaving a power vacuum that people were rushing to fill. Niffty managed to start her own business using the connections she'd made, and while all the other wannabe Overlords were fighting over the old Overlord's power and territory, she positioned herself to start gaining power of her own.

Her business was successful and began to grow, starting to swallow up smaller fashion studios left and right. Niffty's tireless pursuit of her goals was starting to pay off and she was not about to let up now. She pushed her employees to work harder, work faster, and within only a few years, she was the head of the most successful clothing brand in the Pride Ring. It was child's play to topple the person who'd come out on top in the scramble for the title of Overlord of Fashion and claim it for herself. By the end of the 1950s, tiny, humble little Niffty had clawed her way to the top of Hell's hierarchy.

For the next several years, things stayed that way. Niffty felt as though she'd finally reclaimed her personal power and was content to protect that power at all costs. She made sure her brand was always putting out the best clothes they could possibly make; she became very territorial and would crush any competitors who threatened her power like bugs; she decided that while she may never be the most powerful Overlord, she could be the most perfect one.

She developed a toxic work culture within her company, telling her employees/contractees that they were all one big, happy family, with her as the doting mother. She was genuinely sweet and affectionate with her workers and did whatever she could to make them like her– other than improving the sweatshop conditions of her factories, of course. Then, when a problem arose or they fell behind on their quotas, she would leverage that emotional connection against them and punish the whole group for the actions of a few, using the justification of "mother knows best."

Niffty started to open herself back up to men again after several years of ignoring them to focus on her career. She started leaning towards the "bad boys" she'd admired in her youth, since the perfect, seemingly wholesome option had worked out so badly for her. Despite all her power, she was still scared of entering into a real relationship though; if she let her guard down, things could so easily turn abusive again and she'd be back to being someone's little toy on a string again. She eventually decided that she liked men more as aesthetic objects more than as people. She ended up with a little collection of breathtakingly handsome male models who'd signed their souls away to her– she never engaged with them sexually or romantically, but instead got her kicks from displaying them like taxidermied butterflies, reveling in the total control she had over the people who had once had such control over her. She'd occasionally hook up with men outside of her employ, but she never entered into a significant, long-term relationship ever again.

Niffty sat comfortably on top of the hierarchy until the late 1960s. She'd met Alastor in passing a few times during Overlord meetings/events, but she'd never exchanged more than a few polite words with him. She didn't feel particularly in danger from him– his huge Overlord massacre had been over thirty years ago at that point and while he still did topple one every once in a while to keep himself fresh in everyone's minds, he usually went after far bigger fish than her, power-wise. Sure, business was booming, but she was a 4 foot tall bug woman without any of the big, flashy powers most Overlords had; she'd be too easy a target for him to get much of a thrill out of, right? She felt utterly secure that day, sitting in her office, drawing up new designs for the upcoming season, completely invested in her work. And then everything went black.

[happysaddca]

Just a drabble, where you've taken the DCA out of the plex and they're seeing their first thunderstorm. Not connected to anything, inspired by a discord convo and being published as a thank you for the donations made thus far.

The inside of the pizzaplex had been a relatively static place. Yes, there were cycles: openings and closings and the occasional holiday where the building remained closed the entire day, but it was always the same. The same music, the same smells, the same air recycled over and over. The deeper into the plex you went, the less you were affected by the outside world. 

This meant the animatronics, especially the Daycare Attendant, had gone their entire lives without weather. Moon had caught glimpses, when its security route brought it into the atrium and lobby entrance, and then after, when it’d been infected. But Sun had always kept to the daycare’s playpen, and even the lobby only had a single wall of glass doors that shuttered after closing and windows covered with blackout film and neon lights. 

After the fire, after whatever it was that’d happened, you’d taken the Attendant and gotten the fuck out of Utah as soon as you could sublet your apartment and escape your lease. Rural nowhere is cheap, so you’re able to find a house, enough space for you and a gangly seven foot something animatronic to coexist without living on top of each other. You are also able to get a new job that allows you to stay home and watch over the Attendant and their recovery. 

The house is surrounded by woods. You like that, and that there’s a hiking trail nearby. You try to encourage Sun and Moon to explore outside, to enjoy the newness of it all, but unless you are with them, they keep mostly to the house. You get it. They’re traumatized. You’re traumatized. Only you can go to therapy. You’re pretty sure even if there was such a thing as robot therapists, they wouldn’t be able to handle the Attendant’s particular flavor of PTSD. 

But this isn’t about their trauma, nor yours.

This is about the weather. 

For the first month after the fire, after your federal level theft, the weather holds. It’s nice, if a little warm. There are cloudy nights and sunny days, and you watch Sun and Moon as they adjust to seeing their real life counterparts and the changes that come and go. The rain, such as it is, is light, a drizzle, something that compels you to pull on your rainboots and drag them out with you to hunt for frogs. 

Sun doesn’t know what to do when you hand them your catch, and it jumps out of their hands and back into the woods seconds after you place it in their palm. Moon’s a little better, creating a cage with its fingers so it can look the beastie over before kneeling and letting it go. You continue to chase after frogs and even the odd snake until it’s well past dark and you have to play catchup on your work. You end up with a cold the next day, but it’s worth it. It’s even worth their anxious coddling since you know they’re trying their best and they’re literally programmed to take care of humans. Little ones, but still. You’re all they have now.

It’s nearly three months into your new routine when a proper storm hits. 

You’re so hyperfocused on the computer, chewing through the chin cinch of your headphones, that you don’t notice it’s gotten dark until Sun turns on the lamp by your desk. Their sudden presence startles you. 

“Mm?” You resist the urge to rub your eyes as you adjust from the white bright screen of your laptop. You blink instead, squinting blearily in the right direction. “What's up?” 

“There’s a flash flood warning.” Sun's rays are partially retracted, fingers twisting around each other. When they catch you watching, Sun switches to toying with the drawstring of their hoodie. “Should we be concerned? It feels we should be concerned with the creek in the backyard.” 

You lean to one side to peek out the window, noting just how dark it's gotten outside. “No, most of the time those warnings are bullshit.” Sun cringes, voicebox clicking over, but to their credit, they don’t chide. “If you're really concerned, I think I remember the basics to prepare for a thunderstorm. And I won't take a shower til the whole thing passes.” 

“Why can’t you shower?” 

You shut down your laptop, already unplugging it from the wall. Your back cracks and you have to resist the urge to groan, straightening up to stretch. “If lightning hits the house, it could travel up the pipes and electrocute me. Water’s a good conductor and all that jazz.” There's a metallic click, Sun's rays withdrawing entirely as you speak. You pat their arm. “I'm not going to be electrocuted Sunny.”

“No, you most certainly are not!” Sun clasps a hand over yours, trapping it until you’re standing and can gently pull away. 

Sun’s overly eager to help thunderstorm-proof the house. It takes some reassurance that you definitely will not be trying to shower in the middle of the storm, so no Sun, we don’t need to turn off the water to the entire house. Anything electric is unplugged. Even your alarm clock isn’t safe from Sun’s cautiousness. You don’t fight them too much. Sun’s anxious and a caretaker, and without the daycare all their attention is on the house and you. 

You do insist on Sun joining you on the front porch when the house has been sealed and mostly lightning proofed. You sit with your back against the house, stretching your legs out and sipping on a glass of lemonade so cold it leaves your fingers chilled. Sun stands nervously by the door, shifting their weight from foot to foot in time with some long gone tune. 

“Do you feel it too?” you ask. The world’s gone dark and greenish blue from the light filtering through the trees. Sun’s faceplate tilts towards you questioningly. “The weight of the air right before a storm.” 

“That might be an organic only thing friend,” Sun says gently, and you sigh. 

“Probably. Maybe some evolution thing.” You rub at your arm, feeling goosebumps. “It’s gonna be a big one.” You lean forward, trying to peek out at the sky. “Whenever it actually breaks. It sure is taking its sweet time, isn’t it?” No response beyond a mechanical hum. “You and Moon are plenty charged right?”

Sun’s rays tick in time with their thoughts, a slow rotation that distracts you from watching storm clouds. “Yes, we should be all right so long as we can charge in the morning.” They step closer to the edge of the porch, the pale white light from their LED eyes bright against the dark. 

“Good. My laptop’s charged. Are you too distracted to watch Netflix?”

Sun’s rays stop ticking. “...no.” That’s definitely a yes, but you’ll still be able to tempt Sun with the promise of classic TV and cartoons anyway. First, you finish off your lemonade, the first few drops of rain falling and catching the edge of Sun’s face. 

Despite Sun’s worrying, the thunderstorm proper doesn’t start until well past nightfall. You dozed off on the couch, propped against the Attendant. It’s not the nice sort of nap that leaves you refreshed or at the very least no worse than before. Your body is too warm and stiff, and it’s just as uncomfortable to move as it is to hold still. “Sun?” you mumble, lifting a hand to rub at your face. It’s like moving through soup. You open your eyes slowly, the darkness oppressive. It’s tempting to close your eyes and go back to sleep. “Moon?”

The Attendant is no longer with you. Unsurprising. They like some distance during their change, just in case something went wrong. Rain is pounding against the windows, loud and demanding of the quiet inside. As you force yourself to sit up, you’re blinded by a flash of lightning. Thunder follows a few seconds later, and you shiver. You have to take a breath. It’s just thunder. You’re fine. You should find Moon and make sure it’s okay. 

“Moony?” You shuffle through the house in the dark, looking for the red glow of its eyes or the faint glow in the dark star pattern of its pants and hat. No Moon, but more lightning makes things appropriately dramatic and tense. The thunder is louder now, closer. It echoes in your mind, distorting to a growl.

Wait, no. You know that growl. You turn slowly in place, lightning leaving red ghosts in your vision. You make it to the front door, peeking outside. 

Moon is standing at the edge of the porch, arms held stiffly at its sides and faceplate craned back towards the sky. At some point, it must’ve removed Sun’s hoodie. The porch is wet as you step outside, joining Moon and trying to see its face. Lightning again, and Moon’s growls intensify, hands curling into claws. Thunder answers Moon. You should count next time, to see how far away the storm is. 

“Moon, come inside,” you say, keeping a safe distance as it continues to growl, locked onto something in the sky. “If the wind changes, you’re going to get soaked.”

Lightning, then thunder again, louder, closer together. Moon’s growl shifts to a hiss at the bright light, and it swipes at the sky when the storm seems to respond—lightning flickering close together, the world lit in black and white except for the red of Moon’s eyes. The storm is here.

Moon’s growling and hissing are drowned out, but not his laugh. It cackles in response to something in the air, and then Moon steps out, down the steps and cutting across the lawn faster than you can react. 

“Moon!” Your voice is swallowed up in the sound of the storm. You can see Moon for a moment, but only for that moment, darkness swallowing its shape up before the next lightning strike. You run to turn on the porch light, but the switch clicks uselessly under your hand. 

You grab your rain boots, slipping them on before racing after Moon. The rain hits cold and hard, immediately plastering your hair flat to your scalp and turning your clothes into a second skin. “Moon!” You listen, but you can’t hear anything over the storm. You can’t see either, arm up in an attempt to shield your face from the rain. 

“Naughty.” Moon’s voice breaks through the static, metal closing tight around your shoulders like a cage. You jerk away instinctively, but its fingers dig into your lowered arm and shirt, points of contact that brighten with pain when lightning strikes. “You’ll get sick.” 

“I was looking for you,” you say. Moon’s reply is drowned out by another lightning-thunder combo that leaves Moon squeezing you far too tightly. You try to pull away, but it drags you against its chassis instead. Its body is cold, the rain is cold, and you are freezing. “Moon, let’s go back inside.” 

There’s no response, just a low hiss that you feel more than hear. Or maybe you’re imagining it because you’re starting to shiver. You try to pull at Moon’s arm, but it’s locked in place. You try shoving back against its chest instead. Moon actually stumbles back, something snapping hard enough to reverberate through its arms. It lets you go as it falls into the muck and leaves. Lightning strikes, thunder coming a second later. The storm is moving away, but that does little to hide Moon’s distress at the sound. Your arm hurts where its fingers had dug in. 

“Moon, let’s go inside!” You still have to yell to make yourself heard, stepping in between Moon’s legs, pulling at its face until it's forced to look at you. “We can talk about this later. Let’s just go!” 

Moon is looking past you, back at the sky. You shake its face, digging your fingers in when it starts to resist. Finally, red eyes find yours and a hand gently, oh so gently, wraps around your wrist. You let go, and Moon stands, silent except for an automatic growl that kicks up whenever the sky flashes. 

Inside, you towel off and change, refusing to let Moon leave the room. It remains turned towards the window, braced against the sill and face nearly touching the glass. You approach Moon cautiously, holding a second towel. “Moony?” 

Even in the dark, you can see the indents left in the wood when Moon moves its hands. You offer the towel up, but Moon does not take it. It just stares through you, still half turned to the window. It doesn’t protest when you start wiping it down in its stead.

“You know, I’m scared of thunder,” you offer, lifting one of Moon’s arms to pat dry. “Always have been. Did any water get inside?” 

“No.” Moon’s voice is quiet. 

“Good.” Moon lets you manipulate it so you can dry its face, growling softly as thunder continues to rumble. “I’m taking your hat. We’ll need to wash your pants too.” 

“Dinner first.” 

You snort, dropping the towel on its face. “Dry yourself off then.” You take its hat, but when you go to move, Moon grabs your arm again. You flinch as it brushes against your brand new bruise. It immediately lets go, pulling the towel off its face.

“I hurt you.” 

“It was an accident.” You take the towel to throw back at it, but there’s a sudden flash of lightning (when had it died down?) and you flinch, dropping the towel instead. Moon’s growl kicks up again, its hand releasing you as it stands and turns back to the window. You swallow back the lingering fear. “Moon, it’s fine. Look, we can go to the basement—”

“It’s running away.” 

You have to stop. “What?” 

Moon’s voice speaks through the growl, each sound punching through the other in a staticy mess. “The storm. It’s running away.” 

“Yeah, storms tend to move…” Your voice drifts off as you catch on. “Were you trying to fight the lightning?” 

Moon doesn’t answer, but it does reach back with one hand. You take it and are pulled back into its arms, wedged between the windowsill and the Attendant. Its hands remain off you, fingers curled into its palms, even when you lean back to watch the rain. 

“Next time, try to fight it inside. You’re metal. Lightning could fry you and Sun both if you get struck,” you say, voice soft. 

“Always wanted to fight a storm.” Moon rests its face on the top of your head. 

“Why?” You have to bite back a smile, just in case it's being serious. Instead, you feel Moon shrug, the motion limited to its shoulders as something inside its exoskeleton gives an unhappy creak. 

“Seemed fightable inside the plex.” 

You laugh. “Moony, you—how do you feel now that you fought one?” 

There’s a quiet moment where you can only hear the rain and the thrum of Moon’s fans working away inside. “Wet.”

That earns him another snort. “Yeah, rain tends to be wet.” The thunder is a soft sound now, the lightning out of view. “You’re sure nothing got inside?”

“Sure.” You pull away as the porch light turns on outside. “Power’s back on. Change your pants. I’m not letting you walk around the house dripping mud.” 

“Mm.” Moon follows and clings a moment longer, butting its face into the back of your head. “Will fight the storms again for you and Sun.” 

“Okay.” You pat at its head. “But next time, let’s try and fight it from inside the house, okay?”

This time when you pull away, Moon lets you go so you can turn off the porch and fetch your laptop. Moon changes into a soft pair of sweats, the perfect material to cuddle into as you pull it into bed to watch more TV and wait out the remainder of the storm.

[meetinginsamarra]

Take My Broken Love

secrets revealed- chapter 26 is up on AO3

Saturday morning was clear and sunny but rather cold. Since it was still early, the park was only sparsely frequented, mostly by people walking their dogs and the occasional jogger.

Mycroft waited at 8AM sharp at the Italian fountain. Its water had been turned off for the winter and the basin was empty except for a bunch of brown crumbling leaves from the nearby trees. It looked rather bleak and uninviting.

Lady Elisabeth Smallwood and he went a long time back and had worked together for nearly two decades.

READ FULL CHAPTER 26 HERE

[amazingmsme]

Don’t Be Silly

AN: can’t believe it’s already been a full week & I just about have all of next week fully written & ready to post as well! Here’s some wolf 359 fluff for y’all to enjoy, so let’s hear it for day 7! But first, quick question: can an ai be ticklish? Idk but Eiffel’s about to find out

Eiffel was a talker. Honestly, he could talk about anything if only there were someone willing to listen. Back home, few people cared to listen to his ramblings. Minkowski and Hilbert cared even less. And he didn't even want to try with Lovelace...

Hera wasn't like the rest of them. She would happily listen to him all day, and call him crazy, but he didn't think her interest was forced. No, she had a natural curiosity about her that drew her towards him like a magnet. She often kept him company as he rambled to the empty abyss of space, unsure if there even were any "dear listeners" out there.

She liked listening to him talk. She's surprisingly learned quite a lot from him. About earth, mostly. She supposed it was natural to miss your home when you're so far away from it.

He liked telling her about the things he missed. She didn't quite understand why, as he always seemed melancholy after their talks. But he would speak with such fond excitement, so it must bring him some joy to express his longing.

Today, he was talking about the weather of all things.

"Yup, you really don't know what you have until it's cruelly stripped away from you. But I miss it all. Yes dear listeners, I never thought I'd say this, but I miss allergies! I miss the cottonwood in the spring, in all its shitty, fuzzy glory and I miss the fucking ragweed! I want to go outside and sneeze my ass off and squint at everything I look at because it's too damn bright and I forgot my sunglasses because it was supposed to be cloudy and it's sunny out of nowhere!"

"That... doesn't really sound fun."

"Yeah, well, it's not. But it's at least real," he lamented, fiddling with a knob that did nothing. Or if it did, he wasn't aware.

Hera's breath hitched, and she hoped she could mask it as just a glitch. That was odd. She felt that. It wasn't the first time she could "feel" in a sense. She was deeply connected to her electronic mechanisms and coding, and she would definitely feel if something damaged either. She has sensors all around the ship: in the walls the ceilings, the equipment, she even has a few exterior sensors along the sides and docking bays. She'd felt that odd tingle shoot through her wires on a few rare occasions, but it had always been fleeting. Minkowski pressing random buttons on the motherboard to see what they did, Eiffel fixing a dent too close to a sensor, Minkowski clicking and dragging the mouse across the screen... If she could, she would've shuddered at the thought. She tried to focus on what he was saying.

"And they're always right! I don't know how, but every damn time a patch sprouts up, it rains! Guess that's where they got the name though, right?"

"What?"

"The rain flowers," he clarified, tapping his fingers on some buttons. Truth be told, most of the buttons and dials in the coms room were for show, like the decorative smoke stack on the Titanic. The real controls were localized to a single panel, and she had always assumed they had no effect on her. Now, she was glitching out as she fought the urge to laugh.

"Right, right," she agreed, wishing he would just stop twisting that knob.

Of course, she could never be so lucky.

"I tell ya, there's nothing like a good thunderstorm, a rocking chair on an enclosed porch, a cigarette and a cold beer. I really mean it, that is paradise. You can take your sunny beaches with all that fucking sand, I'm a doom and gloom weather kinda guy. But don't get me wrong! I'd literally kill to be on a nice, secluded beach-" he rambled on wistfully, dreaming of all the places that were better than here. She was having trouble focusing when his other hand tapped the empty keyboard, all the while he still played with that fucking dial-

"Wow, okay, glad my heartfelt longing is so funny," he sassed, seemingly out of nowhere. Then she realized, with subsequent horror, that he was giggling. What the hell was going on with her? She needed to get a grip, or maybe a systems reboot, have Minkowski check her wiring, whatever it was, she'd do that later. It took more effort to stop laughing than she would like to admit.

“N͞-͓̫̬̞ͩͮ́n͚̓̃͆̇͘͞o̲̮̼͍̿̀͠, I wasn't laughing at you!" She glitched slightly as she spoke, which wasn't exactly out of the norm for Hera, but it did make Eiffel pay more attention to what she was trying to say.

"Yeah? Then what's so funny?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. Well, at least he'd stopped fiddling with that stupid dial.

"Well, I, uh... Ï̶͈ͣt̵͖͌ͧͥ̎̀’̆͘s̨̯ hard to explain," she struggled to come up with a straight answer.

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed her off, rolling his eyes.

"I promise I wasn't laughing at you!"

"Oh sure, I believe you!"

"Eiffel!" she whined, catching a glimpse of a smile. "I really wasn't! It's just... I don't know, maybe I have a wire loose somewhere." That seemed to make him concerned, which was the opposite of what she was going for.

"Are you okay? It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, it's nothing like that," she was quick to put his worries at ease. "But I'd appreciate it if you stopped messing with that control panel."

"Why? This one doesn't do anything," he back talked, purposefully pressing down on a few buttons. "See? Nothing happened!"

He didn't receive a response. Hera was too busy focusing on containing her laughter, but her lack of a response only served to pique his interest.

"Hera? You there?"

"Mhm!"

His smile looked... different somehow. He thought for a second before finally speaking, "Hey so I've got a question. And I've just been dying to know... Can an AI be ticklish?"

The question threw her off guard, and a short giggle slipped out. "Whahat? N-̭͎́n͊͞o, that's impossible! Come on Eiffel, d-̝͈̑dŏṅ̮’t͓͕͌ be silly."

"See, I'm not sure how impossible it actually is. I mean, you're pretty advanced-"

"Why would an AI even be ticklish?"

Eiffel shrugged. "I don't know, why do you feel pain?" Hera scoffed, and okay, yeah, blunt question.

"Probably to alert me to the well being of the ship. But that serves a purpose!"

"Maybe this does too," he taunted, reaching over to twitch the dial and she couldn't help but shriek.

"Eiffel! Dohohon't!"

"I knew it! You are ticklish! You know, they probably programmed you like this so we'd have some form of entertainment up here."

If she could, she'd be blushing right now. "They did nohohot!" she insisted. The worst part was that she really didn't know why, and that sounded like a cruel, ironic punishment they'd inflict on her. Sure, give the rogue AI the most embarrassing human weakness.

Except... she wasn't entirely sure it was a built in punishment. What if they had designed her specifically to feel more human? Or was it truly just the way her sensors reacted to certain input?

"No no, I can see what they were going for! It's like a video game!" he chuckled gleefully, continuing to play with the extra control panel.

"Shut up, noho it's not!" she scolded. He added his other hand to the mix, pressing buttons and flipping switches. She squealed, and the lights began to flicker.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Just think of all the fun you've been missing out on!"

"Ahahahactually I haven't been missing out ohon anything," she sassed before a loud squeal burst from her speakers.

"Well I have! I've been curious about this for months!" he exclaimed, continuing to press the buttons randomly.

Months? No, he wasn't serious, he was just saying that to mess with her! He would've asked as soon as the question entered his mind, like today. If he thought she was ticklish, he would've tried something long before now. But then she remembered all the times in the past few weeks where he would press random buttons, flip switches and pull levers at random. He even willingly offered to do repairs on some severed wires, and he made sure to take as much time as possible. She was able to brush off her reactions then, claiming it just pinched a little. Had he known the whole time?

"Wait ahaha second, Eiffehehel did you know?" she accused before he sent her into another giggle fit as he slid the faders up and down on the board.

"I just wanted to test it out and see-"

"You sneaky little bihihitch!"

"Eh, I've been called worse," he shrugged off the insult.

"Why dihidn't you tell mehehe?" The sincerity of the question made Eiffel pause.

"I... thought you knew?"

"How would I know?"

"Uh, because you can feel it," he deadpanned. Hera really wished she could roll her eyes.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't know what it was! I thought it was like... a bug in my system or something!"

"Oh it's a bug alright," he grinned devilishly. "A tickle bug!" To make his point, he pressed as many buttons as he could with his left hand and turned the dial with his right. Hera squealed, and she didn't even know her voice box went up that high.

"Eiffel! Ihihi'm serious!"

"Alright, I'll stop. For now," he added cryptically, but true to his word, he retracted his hands.

Hera panted for "breath," even though she didn't technic need to. But Eiffel understood the need to compose yourself, and didn't call her out on it.

"You're insufferable!" she finally said, amusement still clear in her voice.

"That's what they tell me," he proudly agreed. "So? What's the verdict?"

"Huh?"

"What're your thoughts on... all that," he gestured vaguely with his hand. She really wished he'd stop moving his fingers like that.

"Oh! Um, w̋ͩ-w̵̷̝el̥̺̏l͍, it felt kinda like my whole system was getting shocked, and I'm pretty sure I've never laughed that much before," she began to explain shyly.

"I didn't hear you say you hated it," Eiffel probed a little deeper.

"I̺͙̯ͦ͛̌ͧ-̲͖̭̝Ì̡-̘̣̈́͡͠I̵̜͗͆ͩͪ͜ d̈́ͨ̑̍̊̿̀i̘̳dň̰̯̯́’̭t͟-" Hera glitched slightly, and she started over. "Hate is a strong word." He didn't say anything else; he didn't have to. He just smiled and shook his head.

Hera found herself stuck halfway between excitement and dread for what the future held in store.

[mushroompollution]

Leo had managed to talk his friend into joining his late afternoon nap, dragging Elliot between soft, clean sheets and substituting his own pillow for the other man's shoulder. He feels the sunny world of Elliot's bed room melt away as he bobs in that limbo between sleep and wake. The world seem to ripple, like a pebble in a shallow puddle.

Still, he can feel the warmth of Elliot's chest where he lies his head, one small comfort tethering him to the waking world.

"why can't we just stay like this forever?" he mumbles to himself.

"Because you're the one who gave him a time limit."

The low, solemn voice chills Leo to the core. It's a voice that's hauntingly familiar, though known mostly in whispers.

Leo sits up in a panic, but not awake. The light of the afternoon sun swallowed by the darkness of that familiar void, soft sheets and Elliot's warmth replaced with cool, shallow water.

He's been here so many times before. During so many of those afternoon naps, when his body rests, but the sleep isn't quite deep enough to take him fully under.

"what time limit? how? what am i doing to him--"

The ghost standing over him sighs.

"Why do you keep pretending you don't remember? You know exactly what you did. Back in that crater, when that Chain attacked."

"that was a nightmare--"

"You know that it wasn't."

Leo feels his stomach turn. He grits his teeth.

"even his father said it didn't happen. why would he lie about that? and Elliot. would. never--"

"well, he lied about that song~"

A different voice. But just as familiar.

Leo goes silent.

"you know you wrote it, right?"

"i know."

"And you know why that Chain was drawn to you."

Leo curls in on himself.

He feels so cold.

So small.

"have you ever considered that he doesn't remember? he was barely lucid, wasn't he?"

"then how do i save him? if i'm the one who made him-- if. if i'm really--"

"You can't." the ghost cuts him off with a tone as sharp as any sword. Leo flinches. "It's too late. You're the one who decided his fate the minute YOU made your selfish choice to save him. So you have no choice now but to accept the truth."

Leo tastes blood between teeth and lip. The water ripples as he drives a fist against the hard ground below. He hears his own name echoing around him with each wave, like some sick joke.

"You're the one who killed him twice."

---

Leo wakes in a panic to the sound of Elliot calling his name and hands on his shoulders. He gasps for breath, choking on sobs and the black waters of that void. He frantically grabs for his friend like a drowning man flailing for a life preserver. Cold sweat soaks his shirt and his hair. He stares up at his friend, starry eyes blown wide, like some frightened wild animal, sucking deep breaths between teeth.

"Leo, you're having a nightmare. Leo!! Leo, it's okay. It's just a nightmare, you're safe..." Elliot holds his shoulders firmly as the smaller man finally seems to come back to reality. "I'm right here, I'm--"

Before he can finish that thought, Elliot finds himself suddenly pinned, shoved onto his back by his valet in the blink of an eye. "Hey what the fu--UHUHCK?!"

Like a predator tearing into its prey, Leo rips open the other man's shirt with such force that buttons go flying. "WhatthehellLeo?!" Elliot squeaks, pale face turned scarlet, but Leo's expression is dour.

For just a second, time stands still. But that second feels like an uncomfortable lifetime, before Leo suddenly bows his head against his master's exposed chest, shoulders slumping as he lets out a strangled sob.

"i-i thought-- i dreamed you were an illegal contractor--"

"No way!!" Elliot protests loudly and sits upright quickly, his embarrassment quickly forgotten in place of indignation. Still, that red lingers as he eases Leo back onto his side, taking him into his arms with a sturdy hand on the valet's trembling shoulders. "You know I'd never, EVER do that. Nothing good can ever come from making a deal like--"

"i know." Leo cuts him off. He clutches Elliot's open shirt. "i know you wouldn't. i just. needed to see for myself..."

"It was just a dream, and I promise you, I'm not an illegal contractor. I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm not gonna let anybody else hurt you, either. You're safe..."

"i know..." Leo mumbles, somehow pressing his face even harder against his friend.

"Uh. Do you want me to get your glasses...?"

Leo shakes his head where he is. "i. don't want to see at all right now."

Elliot hesitates for a second, hand tightening on Leo's shoulder. "Okay... That's okay. You don't need to. I'm not going anywhere, okay? We can stay just like this..."

Leo nods. "please... just. a little while."

Elliot sighs, rubs his friend's back as a his heartbeat calms. But even with his eyes pressed so tight against his anchor, Leo can feel the judging stares of those ghosts, and the echo of their words.

You killed him twice.