#mothers who just seem to have this unending well of love to give

[icanttakethemonmyown]

just slightly tipsy on christmas eve and thinking about the nature of love and how my extended family who have never been to america all have texas-themed items of clothing because my cousin married an american and his mother insists on sending us all presents even though she has never even met half of us

[camlovesjace]

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.

Jacaerys Velaryon x oc!fem Targtower. Part one,

WARNING: war stuff, violence, grief, etc. SINOPSIS: Jace and Celleys had been in love since childhood, she was a princess as same as he was a prince, but she was daughter of his grandfather and queen Alicent Hightower. Sister of Aegon, his greatest enemy.

He had loved her since he was born, his heart belonged to her since his first breathe. While they were growing up he realized his feelings were reciprocate. When he came back to King's Landing after longs years away, after days and nights thinking about her, about her smile, her eyes, her love, he didn't found the same little girl he had left there. But a woman. And his heart ache, in the most beautiful way. She took his breathe off of his mouth, and soon they get closer as they were when they were childs.

Cellys was clever, kind and a sweet person. He always knew he wanted her to be his wife but that day he was totally sure of it. She also craved him, not only in body but in mind and soul too. They had spent so many days in the gardens, reading, talking but mostly caressing themselves. His hands were always dancing above hers, over her cheeks, her neck. And hers too, she couldn't help it. Soon after that, their lips meet each other for the first time, in the nights were both of them met in the dark hallways to confess their love and devotion for the other.

But then war came, Aegon usurped his mother throne and Lucerys was killed by Aemond. Jacaerys was devastated, not only that he was full of rage towards his uncles. Aegon wanted to get peace between them but it was late, Cellys was on King's Landing and Jacaerys was tearing himself apart thinking about her. He knew her mother would want to married her to someone to get more allies to the greens and he wouldn't allow that to happen. She was his, and he will burn every part of the kingdom just to took her back to him.

Then, Aegon proposed that -if Rhaenyra gives up- he will let Jacaerys to inherit the throne after him, and in his promise he let clear that Cellys would also marry him. But Jacaerys does not believed nothing he had said, Aaegon knew Cellys is his nephew soft spot, he knew Jacaerys would do anything for her. Even give up the crown and the throne.

"The word of a usurper mean little and less" he had said to Rhaenyra. His anger was filling his heart, the death of Luke was still fresh and he didn't wanted anything else more than kill every last of the greens "He won't give me the throne, if you accept this proposal you will only lost my life, and Joff, Eggon and Viserys life as well. Only before your own, mother"

"But...what about her? What about Cellys?" she asked, softly.

"She is mine" he had said, and he meant all the words that left his mouth that night. The god´s knew it, they had been born for each other and not even fire or blood could tear them apart. Cellys was his other half, a part of his own soul inside another body "Aegon will know that, he knows i´ll bring her back to me. And if he even dares to think he can put one finger over her i swear i will have no mercy when i get the chance to face him."

The days had turn into moons, and those moons into an unending feeling of pain and desperation for the princess. Who was locked in her bedchambers day and night, she had tried to escape many times but Aemond -her older brother- had always ruined her plans. Her heart was aching in a torturing way, Jacaerys name was numbing her mind and everything reminded her of him. Of his brave soul, his kind heart.

She was sitting at Kings Landing, wondering where did he go.

Was he thinking of her the same she was? Was he still trying to get back to her...the same way she was trying to get back to him? When he leave her soul seemed to had been broke into two pieces, mourning and obligated to look for her other half until the end of times.

"It's your duty, as princess and my sister, to marry and squeeze out heirs for the lords to bring me alliances!" Aegon shout but he get no reaction from her. She was empty, she could feel nothing but sadness and sorrow.

"I won't" she says, not holding back her words towards the usurper who seemed to think he deserved to be treated like king even when he had never done anything to prove it "My loyalty is with the true heir to the iron throne, and to her son"

Then, Aegon slapped the young girl. Cellys opened her eyes widen, her breath almost stopped and the pain crossed her face. Yet, she get angry, how could dare he?

"You will do what i please, and if you refuse...then you'll see what you get for it" he threatened, but that only make her blood rush over her whole body. The white haired girl get up in front of him, her cheeks red and her lips shaking softly.

"How dare you to put your dirty hands on me?" she says, completely out of herself "You drunken usurper cunt"

Another slap. This time harder and even more painful.

"And what are you? A damn whore who can´t wait to open her legs to a fucking bastard" he accuse, holding her throat firmly and yet he didn't saw fear in her amethyst orbs. He only saw rage.

"That bastard you said is more worthy to the throne than you could ever be" she whispers, it was true but she said it just to piss him off. And she did. Aegon let her go, pushing her away, Cellys tried to catch her breathe again, her heart was beating wild on her chest.

"He isn't anymore. A corpse can't sit on the throne" Aegon says, his words almost desperately to leave his mouth...and then she feels how everything stops around her, and the feeling starts to sink into her soul. Her face get pale, a cold shiver ran over her back.

"If you touch him...i swear for my own blood i will destroy every single one last of you" she says, but her voice shakes softly, the thought of Jacaerys being hurt, or being killed in war, only made her fears rise up "I'm not kidding, Aegon. I promise."

He only laughs, almost mocking for her trying.

"Are you threatening me now, you're threatening your king?" he asks, amused.

"You are not my king." she says, firmly. But her mind was filled with the man she loves, with Jace "And i'm not Helaena, i will not end like her. I won't stay here while you ruin my life, while you think i will not do anything to fight against it."

Aegon sees in her eyes she is speaking the truth, Cellys was kind but not a fool, not a delicate flower, she knows how to follow her own path and she is a dragon. A dragon who will burn in at the first chance, and he knows it.

"Good luck with that, little sister" the white haired says, still smiling. Pretending he's not scared at all, but he was. He is afraid of what she will do, cause he knows her like his own hands. He know what he is willing to do for the one she loves, and for herself "He died...on the battle on the Gullet two days ago. Your precious bastard corpse is probably sinking into the water"

[mikavlcs]

False Meridian

Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.

Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)

Word count: 8.2k

Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2

It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.

You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.

Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.

Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.

Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.

Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.

But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.

Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.

Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.

Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.

And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.

Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.

For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.

Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.

You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.

So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.

Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.

And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.

But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.

It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.

You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.

Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.

When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.

It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.

So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.

You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.

But then it rang again, and again, and again.

Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.

You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”

Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.

She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.

Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.

“What happened?” she asked urgently.

You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.

She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.

“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”

Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.

Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.

She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”

You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.

“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”

Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Who the hell is this?”

A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.

“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”

A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.

“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”

The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.

Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.

“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”

“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”

An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.

With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.

“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”

The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.

“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”

Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”

“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”

Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”

A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”

Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.

“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”

“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”

“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”

“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara went to respond but the line went dead.

You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”

She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.

He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?

But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—

A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.

Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.

Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe. 

When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.

Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.

She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.

So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.

Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.

There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.

Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.

A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.

“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.

The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.

Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.

So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.

Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.

“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”

The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.

As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.

And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.

-

Tara didn’t sleep.

Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.

So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.

Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.

There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.

Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.

Lastly, there was Sam.

Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.

But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.

“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”

In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”

Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.

Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”

Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”

Another nod. “I will.”

Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”

“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.

“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”

“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”

“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”

After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”

“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.

“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.

Tara’s stomach dropped.

“Sam…”

“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.

“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.

There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”

Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.

A question rose to the forefront of her mind.

“How did he know where you lived?”

Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"

Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.

“Tara—"

“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”

That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.

“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”

Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.

She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.

There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.

So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.

She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.

Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.

-

Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.

It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.

But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.

No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.

It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.

Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.

They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.

Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.

Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.

Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.

She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.

Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.

So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).

“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”

Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.

“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”

Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.

“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.

“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”

“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”

When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.

“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”

You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?

“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.

Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”

Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.

“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.

Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.

Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.

Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.

The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.

Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”

She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.

You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.

This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”

Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.

The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.

Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.

Security System Disabled

A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.

Security System Disabled

There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.

Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.

“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”

You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”

“Yes, you will. You need to.”

“Tara—"

“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”

Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.

Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.

Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.

Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.

She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.

Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.

Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.

Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.

The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.

Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.

He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.

Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.

Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.

He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.

Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.

“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”

She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.

“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.

He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.

Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.

Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.

A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.

The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.

Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.

He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.

Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.

A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.

He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.

She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.

But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.

He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.

You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.

Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.

He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.

“You fucking bitch!” he roared.

You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.

“Oh no you don’t.”

Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.

She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.

Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.

The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.

At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.

Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.

Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.

He needed to pay.

Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.

With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.

The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.

By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.

The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.

What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.

Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.

Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.

Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.

She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.

Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.

So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.

But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.

What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.

On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.

All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.

The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.

She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"

Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.

She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.

“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.

Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.

Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”

Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.

“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.

“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”

Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”

Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.

“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”

Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.

“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”

Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”

Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”

Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.

Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.

In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.

Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.

So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.

A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.

-

A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.

The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.

Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.

Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.

Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.

Tara.

With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.

The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.

Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?

Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.

“No, don’t move.”

Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.

The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.

She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.

You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.

You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.

“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”

Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”

“The police killed him?”

She looked away then and played with your fingers. “No, Sam did.”

“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.

You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.

It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?

And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.

Plus, Tara would never lie to you.

“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.

Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”

“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.

Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.

The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.

“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.

You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”

She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.

[opyre]

I finally beat the game for myself ! I had watched @otlaw stream it for me when it first came out , but playing it myself definitely brought about so much more wonder and intrigue to the world and characters for me . I have a lot of thoughts about how I'd like to run this blog and general canon divergences that I wish to piece together for the sake of ease of access for all of my writing partners ! this certainly is not all of them , but they are the ones i've given greater thought to thus far . this is a long post , by the way . . . oops .

triggers mentioned as follows :

parental abuse ( mother , specifically ) , religion , suic*de alluded to but not specifically mentioned , possession

first , i'd like to touch on joshua's relationship with his parents .

his relationship with elwin was a bit more strained than the game let on , or how i imagine the relationship between elwin and clive . i think elwin put a lot of pressure on joshua ( intentionally , or nonintentionally ) and forced him to live in a bubble of burdensome expectation . i think he dearly loved his father , but the yearning for his approval oft made their connections rocky . i don't think they had many heart - to - hearts , but i do think joshua admired him . he loved him , of course , but i don't think he felt safe or appreciated around him , and i don't think they knew much about each other beyond the surface level and their inherited family dynamics . his ' inner voice ' section states : ' i don't want to disappoint him . . . '

his relationship with anabella was complicated . anabella made him feel protected , like he had someone who should ( not 'would' , necessarily ) care for him , and he relied on her heavily . she was the parent he looked to most to care for his needs , but unbeknownst to him , she did not care for many . her interests were always self - serving , but as a child , joshua was blind to it , and when he wasn't , he'd simply deny it in the favor of giving her the benefit of the doubt . because he loves her . as his ' inner voice ' section states : ' she can be scary , but it's only because she loves me . ' we can see in the scene that causes her death how joshua just wanted to save her . he wanted to help her . he believed there was still a chance that things might turn around , while jill and clive simply look pained that he gave her the chance and she betrayed it . again . i believe it was a common theme for them growing up . joshua being anabella's defender . not necessarily speaking up on her behalf , but making excuses to make sense of her behavior . i believe he often read between the lines with everyone , and everything . and still does . and there is certainly more to their relationship and the things she does and what he learns that i think about during his time with the undying , but that's for another post and another time .

on the subjects of his relationships with others , i wanted to point out specific variations that i will be adopting into my portrayal with my affiliates ( of these characters listed ) exclusively and a lot of this is stuff we have plotted out together and discussed .

CLIVE ( @otlaw ) : joshua and clive's relationship has so much nuance to it . they were brothers who were raised in a toxic family environment with very different experiences between their parents , the realm , and their expectations . they love each other so wholeheartedly and dearly , but it also does not undo the tragedy of their pasts , nor the tragedy of the night of flames . they are brotherly in the way that they are so aware of each other's flaws , but so aware of each other's strengths as well . certain jealousies plague them , and their guilt in regards to each other seems unending . they are full of love , but they are so riddled by the bitterness and blight ( figurative and nonfigurative ) of this world and the ways their lives have affected not only themselves , but each other . their paths are so closely interwoven . if i can recall , clive is the only person on their side that we see joshua get explicitly angry with .

JILL ( @glacierites ) : screw what square enix did to jill and joshua for real . first amenity : when joshua first awakens with jill at his side after the 5 year skip , he does not simply brush her aside . he blinks awake in a steady realization of who he is with and why he is where he is , but does not presently realize that it is jill who is kneeled beside him . he is transfixed on helping clive , as he gets up to try to save him , but when jill calls his name , he recognizes her immediately . his eyes tear up and he tells her he will return , before priming and flying forth . joshua and jill have a lot of nuance as well , but get along better than clive in joshua in terms of their similar personalities . they spent a lot of time together as clive trained and sparred and share many sacred memories , secrets , and inside jokes with each other . also . he hugs her before they leave for origin . he gives her the moment with clive of course , but i'll be damned if he will hug dion and mid and not jill . he loves jill . that is his family . that is his sister .

JOTE ( @tutelaris ) : jote and joshua are so much deeper and more complex than canon lets on for me ( and prince , but let me not put words in his mouth , haha ) . jote became a trusted companion of joshua's as she was one of the few among his age group and helped to nurse him to health during his five year coma . after awaking , jote as beside him most every step of the way . she helped him with physical therapy and comforted him ( when he had no choice but to let her ) through regaining tragic memories and the nightmares of his past . they shared many deep moments together as he learned to reconstruct who he is as a person , and she learns that she is indeed a person ( as this is how joshua treats her , not just a subject to the phoenix ) . they are comfortable in silence with each other , but they also share secrets with one another , sacred moments and memories , and exclusive behavior and remarks . i like to think that when clive and jill around the two of them they're like 🤨🤨 also note that while i do ship with prince's jote romantically , joshua and jote do not act on romantic feelings for each other until joshua returns from origin in his joshua lives au verse ( which i will expand upon in a future post ) .

*** i also want to note that i am COMPLETELY open to writing with duplicates of these characters and developing separate plots aside ! i am not exclusive to anyone and would love to explore more potential dynamics !

and now for something completely canon divergent that i just think would make things much more interesting : joshua can commune , at times , with the phoenixes of eld , his forefathers . he has always been in touch with his powers , but truly awakened to the phoenix at age seven , two years before the remembrance ceremony . during the awakening to the fullness of his power , he entered a vision - like , dream - like state where he was held in a center room within his mind ( reminiscent of the ruins at phoenix gate ) as his forefathers granted him advice and gave him warnings of the future and what the power of the phoenix truly entails . they spoke much on the healing , and protector aspects of things , solidifying his resolve to one day become a person who can protect the people he holds most dear . but really , to protect everyone he is able . i like to think that they can speak to him , but he cannot speak back , and they only speak through his mind in these visions , when the calling becomes extremely important . it does , however , take a physical toll on his body , oft knocking him from his feet and sending him to his knees in confusion and slight agony and pain .

on the subject of communing with spirits and perhaps , gods : i'd like to think that joshua housing ultima inside of his body did things not just to his body but to his psyche as well . i don't think ultima ever possessed him by any means , like , joshua was always in control of his body and his actions ( illness(es) aside ) , but i think he'd see pieces and fragments of the fallen , memories of ultima's in his dreams , and random glimpses of the fallen and origin .

and while we're talking about 'religion' : i think " the founder " or the man who founded the twins , became someone idolized and almost worshipped over time . he became a legend that was voiced into a god by centuries of cult - like religion that eventually became regionalized as a mass understanding of his sanctity and their gratitude toward him . i think this is why they often use him name in exclamations similar to ' by the [gods]* ' , ' thank the [heavens]* ' , or simply , ' founder ' in a sigh of relief . ** could be substituted with the way they use ' founder ' .

[spoonyglitteraunt]

The Hero is secretly gay. Unfortunately, the Villain doesn't know this and keeps kidnapping the Hero's best female friend, thinking that she's the love interest. Even more unfortunate, she's finally had enough. - writing prompts

That’s it!

She slammed the door closed behind her and threw her handbag on the nearby table. Too aggravated to sit and rest she stomped across her living room.

She was done. Completely and utterly out of patience. Zero fucks left to give. Ready to kick some henchman shins and track down ALL their mothers to tattle on them. D. O. N. E. Done.

This was the twelfth time in half as many months. Thirteen if you counted the one where she had downright refused to pay him and his nonsense any attention. Which had baffled him so much he’d stuck in his tracks long enough for the heroes to show up and foil his little pull before it got off the ground. They were currently averaging one kidnapping a week and she’d had enough. They had done it all. Surprise ambushes, drive by pickups, resigned walkouts. Everything short of pencilling it down in their schedule. Thursday morning, eight o’ clock, villainous acquisition time. Set to repeat weekly. Until at nauseam.

She had tried to be understanding, accommodating even, she really had. But there is only so much a person can take and they had long surpassed that point. She was lucky she still had a job what with all the surprise absences. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was a constant source of content – and she suspected unending amusement – for the paper she worked for, she probably would have been fired by now. Few bosses would be happy with a near weekly disappearing act. Regardless of whether she had any say in the matter. And the only say she'd had were some very colourful words her parental units would be shocked to hear.

No, something had to change and as usual it would be left to her to do so. Because heroes forbid she’d not have to be the proactive one in this dynamic for once.

A heavy and rapid knocking sounded at her door. “Darlin’, you in there? Y’alright?”

Speak of one half of this screwed up custody battle.

“Please open up.”

She huffed and proceeded to pace. Ignoring his attempts to get her to open while simultaneously avoiding accidentally knocking her door down with his enhanced strength. If she knew him – and she did, for well over two decades now – he probably hadn’t taken the time to properly de-transform yet. Too intent on checking up on her first. She wished he had lingered to wrap things up with the police instead. Given her some time to cool down.

It wasn’t his fault, not really. She knew this. Knew that Samuel “Bear” Friedman, contrary to his hero name and transformation, was an utter softy. Especially when it came to the people he cared about. He hadn’t asked for any of this either. He seemed more distressed by it all than the not-so-maiden he kept having to "rescue". But the fact remained that if it wasn’t for him she wouldn’t be spirited away on the regular by a villain who might be as colourful as the Ghibli film, but not nearly as entertaining.

Sure, it was the risk you ran when being in contact with a hero. Everyone knew that being in their life could someday mean you’d end up as a bargaining chip for the superpowered. But no one had warned her that this would practically devolve into become her second job. One she was apparently doing for the involuntary exposure and no pay.

The ridiculousness of it all was that she wasn’t even his partner. A fact she had tried to explain to Magnemind on several occasions. Not that he was listening. The villain had it in his head that Bear and her were “a thing”, and she was just trying to talk her way out of being held captive. Which, fair, she was. But that didn’t make it any less of the truth. Sam was about as straight as he was capable of keeping plants alive. His internet search history evidence to both.

“Please, darlin’. You worryin’ me here,” Bear’s deep voice rumbled as another round of carefully controlled knocks shook the wood.

She barged over and ripped open the door. The giant bearded man – who yup was very much still in his hero form – shrunk back from her glare. How she with her below average human size and strength could cow a man who was bear shaped both in and out of his transformation, with just one look, was anyone’s guess. It usually amused her to no end. Followed by several rounds of teasing. Right now however, she wished he didn’t look like such a kicked puppy. It made being angry with him seem even more unfair than she already knew it was. Damn her superb pack bonding instincts.

Huffing again she turned away and stomped back into her apartment without another word. Straight to her couch. Where she plopped down face first into the cushions with a loud groan and all the dramatics she could muster. She knew it was very not adult of her, but it none the less somewhat soothed the annoyed part of her brain.

It took a few seconds before Bear decided she wasn’t going to rescind the unspoken invitation and stepped inside. He closed the door as gently as he could with his clawed hands and padded over to take a tentative seat next to her.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I dunno why he keeps doin’ it either. But I talked with the others and we’ll start—“

She tuned him out as he rumbled on about what measures they’d take this time to try and keep her safe. They always had more measures and they never worked. Magnemind’s main power may be the whole magnetic force thingy, but the mind part was in there for a reason. Dude was smart. Whatever they had come up with, he’d found a way around it like it was baby's first puzzle game. Sometimes she wondered if he had a secondary power set they weren’t aware off. Something beyond playing the world’s most annoying magnet. Either way, fact of the matter was that as long as the heroes had no clue what he was trying to accomplish they’d keep playing catch-up. And they didn’t.

But she did.

And it was time to take matters into her own hands. Enough with being considerate and waiting for others to get a clue. Not when they were clearly still playing Frustration. It was time to Scrabble the board and put down a quixotry. Time to show she needed no saving throw. Just some common sense. But first things first.

A nap

---------

She sat herself down on the plastic folding chair in the middle of the empty warehouse. Having checked everything trice over, and then once more just to be sure. Unlike some people she learned not to underestimate others. This was going to go exactly as planned. Probably. And at the end everyone would walk away from this better for it. Or at least less future kidnappy. Or she'd swear this would turn into her villain origin story. And no one would want that. She wielded the scariest powers of all. Unrelenting grudges and the I am very disappointed in you frown that all women on her mother's side were experts at. It had made many an adult ashamed of themselves throughout the years. It practically bordered on crimes against humanity.

Still, it wouldn't do to get ahead of herself. She'd try the reasonable approach first. Or at least the moderately functional one.

 It took about half an hour before she heard one of the side doors open with a loud groan. And then disconnect from its hinges. Followed by a deep, low curse and finally the scrape of metal against stone as door met wall. Its new resting place.

Her bestie, everyone. Mr subtlety himself. Good thing he hadn't been given a stealth power, because oh brother, Bear. And yet, she wouldn't have him any other way.

"Darlin'?" he rumbled upon spotting her and rushed over to check on her. "Are y'okay? I was so worried. The message was weird and I wasn't sure if it was you or not. Seemed too early for 'nother attempt, and usually he doesn't use your phone, but—"

"Bear." She patted his large arm to stop his rambling and frantic checking for wounds and bindings. "I'm fine. Stop fussing and sit down," she said, and waved at the chair behind him to her left.

He checked her over again, but as she was obviously unharmed and utterly calm. Not her usual state of annoyed at being taken. He did as she asked, although reluctant. And not solely because of the somewhat too small chair for his huge frame.

Even after all these times he still fretted needlessly. Not like she'd ever gotten hurt on these involuntary excursions. She'd at least give Magnemind that much. He was as gracious a host as an abductor could be to their ill-gotten guest. Speaking of whom.

"Would you like to join us down here? The chair is not as uncomfortable as it looks. Okay, no, it is. But the sooner you get your butt in it, the sooner we can all be done with this, and hopefully collectively move on with our lives."

Sam stared at her in confusion. Clearly wondering if this was the long afeared mental breakdown they kept expecting her to have – she didn't do breakdowns, too busy throwing the superpowered lemons back in the life manager's face, thank you very much – or this was indeed some kind of code he wasn't following.

"How do I know this isn't some sort of entrapment?"

The voice echoed around the wide space as if coming from everywhere, like a poor rendition of phantom of the warehouse. Good thing they were lacking big light fixtures hanging from easily to untether ceilingwear.

Sam instantly braced upon hearing Magnemind's voice. Teeth bared and nails sharpening into claws as he jumped up from his seat. Toppling the folding chair over

She paid it no mind however. Instead looking up at the rafters above them, where the shadows were just deep enough to hide a lanky magnetic man.

"You've been sticking up there since before I got here. If this was a trap you'd have spotted it by now. And Bear came alone. As you are well aware from the surveillance cams you put up outside. Plus I went through the trouble of dragging some fully plastic chairs in here, so they wouldn't stick to your butt if you get a bit carried away and activate your abilities. Besides I think you owe me one all things considered, so come down here and stop being so theatrical."

"What're you doin'?" Bear whisper-rumbled incredulous. Clearly not happy with any of this. Ever more questioning her sanity.

"Solving this mess. Now sit down, please. I may have all day, but I'd much prefer to get home in time to watch my shows."

"You don't watch TV." Bear grumbled.

"Hush you, random youtube essays are shows too."

He uprighted the chair with a sigh and once again sat down ever so daintily, so as not to break it with his bulk. He knew not to bother trying to convince her to leave or stop whatever she had planned. They had been besties long enough to know that he may be the big strong superhero to everyone else, she was the unmovable force in this friendship. Especially when she dug her claws in.

Luckily it seemed that Magnemind had picked up as much too from their time together. For he didn't make her wait either. Slowly floating down from the ceiling shadows until he was seated on her right, across from Bear.

What followed was a grumpy stare off between the two opponents. Not unlike two pouty school children sitting in detention. Both convinced the other was the one to blame for their predicament. She barely avoided spraining her eyes with all the rolling she was doing. To think anyone took either of them seriously. Good thing she didn't, or they'd never get out of this mess.

"So, we're going to have a grown up conversation, between grownups, like grownups. No more taking the other one's toy because we never learned to use our words like big boys. Especially not since the toy is damn tired of it. We're going to talk this through and when we walk out of here you're either going to have this shit worked out, or find another way to get each other’s attention that doesn't include me."

"’m not the problem here, he’s."

"Excuse you, but I did not start this. And I am not taking any toys. And I am without a doubt in possession of a larger vocabulary than—"

She swatted them both on the forehead with the cardboard tube of a former roll of wrapping paper that she pulled out from under her chair. Wrapping paper which she may or may not have bought, unrolled, and carefully stashed for later use just so she had something harmless, but satisfying, to smack them with when they were being obnoxious. Which she knew they would be.

"You. Stop interrupting me. I know you had no say in this, but your bungling of getting it solved, and never clarifying what we are when asked, didn't help matters. So let me talk." She told Bear with a glare, but his instant sheepish look of regret made it once again hard to stay annoyed at him.

"And you. Do not argue the size of your vocabulary or anything else for that matter. I don't care what's in there. You may not have started it, but I'm finishing it. And the least you can do is to listen to me monologue for a change," she added, waving the tube in his face to show she was willing to bop him again if needed.

His eyes flitted from her, to the former retainer of festive paper under his nose, to Sam, and back. Not entirely sure what to make of this situation.

She was probably the only person in the city who had the nerve to lecture and carboardly assault both a beloved hero and rising villain. It was just hard to still feel intimidated when you'd been friends for years with one, and been timeshared out to the latter on a frequent basis. The shine wore off eventually.

Finding no further argument in either of them she continued.

"Now, as I was saying. First things first. He and I? Not. A. Thing." she said, gesturing with the tube between her and Sam for emphasis.

"Oh, please. I have told you before your little act is less than convincing. Not when you spend all your time together outside of work, and he comes running as soon as I tell him I have you. And— Ow, stop hitting me with that thing." He rubbed his head as if it had hurt anything beyond his pride.

"Then stop being an ass and not listening. And it's called friendship, you walnut," she grumbled.

"How do you know what I do outside of work?" Sam asked, mouth twitching in that way she knew spelled rising embarrassment.

Magnemind flushed as he briefly made eye contact with the hero across from him and looked away. "Never mind," he mumbled, "it's just... don't take me for a fool. Friends aren't that close."

She wasn't sure to feel annoyed at his refusal to listen, or sad for the fact he couldn't even imagine such closeness. Which may say more about his life than he probably meant it to.

Maybe both. Definitely both.

"Tell, him." She motioned at the villain while looking pointedly at Sam. Maybe Magnemind would believe him about the friend thing. And the rest really wasn’t hers to share without permission. But all her friend did was give her that puppy dog look again. The one that was halfway lost cub and halfway pleading golden retriever. The one he had perfected over the years and basically was friend speak for, help! I’m a conversationally challenged awkward nugget and need you to take over the talking here!

How a man that big and strong, a brave professional hero no less, could be such a doofus in social interactions was beyond her. Or it would be if it hadn't been the same since he was the big, bulky new kid in school who got cornered by the playground bullies. Unable to defend himself verbally, and too unsure of his strength to risk doing it psychically. Six year old her had taken charge and defended him then – by dumping an entire bottle of dirty toilet water on the bullies, much to their horror – as she ever did since. It was how they worked and she could never let him down. Even if it was awkward and silly. He was still her friend and it was his choice. At least she had the standing permission to tease him about it later though. Bestie privileges and all.

"Fine. Okay, we’ve got this.” She turned back to Magnemind. “We are that close because we've been friends for ages and because we've been through a lot. Also because we're two of the same.'

"Same what?'

"Look, Sam here was called a bear long before the media coined it as his hero name. If you get my drift."

"What, that doesn't make any— oh. Oh."

And the penny finally dropeth.

Magnemind's eyes widened dramatically, and humorously, as he took in the new information. Staring at her now thoroughly blushing friend. A bushy beard could only hide so much.

"So, now we're on the right track. Let's do proper introductions, kay? Magnemind, meet my friend Sam. He looks intimidating but he's an utter softy at heart. Single and looking, but incredibly clueless as to when someone is flirting with him. Also a blushing shy mess when he fancies someone."

Sam whined at her words, but didn't contradict her. It was all the truth after all. And he did want her to do the talking.

"Sam, meet John Steward."

"How do you know my name?!"

She stared at him. Deadpan. "I work as a fact checker for newspaper journalists, some of whom are chronically allergic to research. You don't think I know my way around a search engine? Now shush, don't make me bop you again. We're getting somewhere here."

He shrunk in his seat. Probably more from her knowing his identity than the not so dreaded cardboard weaponry.

"As I was saying. Sam, meet John. Gremlin human in equal need of social skills, whose idea of pining is apparently abducting their crush's friend, in hopes of just getting to spend five minutes mooning in the presence of their love interest. While lamenting their assumed unrequited and doomed love."

This time it was Magnemind's turn to imitate the culinary ingredient of contested classification, as he hid his face in his suit's scarf. Unable to refute the truth. And Bear's turn to process the new info. They were almost circled through this mess and whatever happened afterwards hopefully would no longer include her.

"So, for the record. We've got two single men in this room who are both very much interested in the men loving men category. And in the humble opinion of someone who has spent significant time with both – even if sometimes under clearly voiced protest – they'd be an exceedingly good match interests and personality wise. If they can both get over their crippling shyness and self-sabotage as queer doofuses, that is. Doofuses who both have zero clue about potential interest pointed in their direction unless they're smacked on the head with it."

She couldn't resist thumping them both again to the sound of mutual embarrassed groans.

"Now lastly. Before I go get an in my opinion more than well-deserved rest, some interesting facts. First let me point out that someone in this room mainly turned to villainy because people kept discriminating against him, refusing to let him study the area of his natural skills, and harassing him over it. Also that to date his worst crime has been to liberate certain property and donate it to the less fortunate. That and some negligible cases of kidnapping with zero bodily harm, just a considerable amount of annoyance." She glared at the villain. Who at least had the decency to look contrite.

"Charges which can be ignored on account of the sole victim being magnanimously willing to withdraw any complaints. If they are compensated with a few good meals and the accused doing their best not to make their friend unhappy," she added, before glancing to her left.

"I will also remind the room that reforming a former villain would be excellent PR for any hero. Especially if down the line the public got a chance to, as we say, ship it. They could very easily claim responsibility and supervision of said reform. Which obviously would require a lot of time spent together to oversee the villain's adjustment back to a productive member of society.”

The boys were now both blushing messes. But they were smiling blushing messes. And by the way they were exchanging flustered glances, her work here was nearly done.

"Lastly, just randomly musing here you understand. But one could certainly see what the combined power of a star couple of powerful and beloved heroes could accomplish in societal changes. If they put their brilliant mind and golden retriever charm to it. Just something to ponder."

She pushed herself up from her seat, brandishing her papery magic wand of fairy godfriendery. "Well, I'll leave you two to your enemies to lovers shenanigans."

She nodded to Magnemind. "John it was nice seeing you, but if I don't get advanced warning of future meet ups I'm not responsible for any contact between my shoe and your leg."

"Sam, I love you, but next time sort out your own love life. Being a disaster gay doesn't hinge on being entirely clueless. If you bring home any more strays that use me as a game of telephone flirting, I'm perma-stitching big neon rainbow patches in all your clothes. Including the hero suits.” She patted him on the shoulder as she passed on her way to the exit.

"Now, have fun, and don't do anything I would do," she added, as a final goodbye as she walked away. Giving a last wave without looking back. No need to see the sickly sweet back and forth of blushing affection that was no doubt already going on behind her back.

Time for her to go get that well-deserved nap. She’d earned it. And hopefully it was the start of many more to follow. Now that this mess was finally sorted out.

Until the next one probably. She had no doubt

And as she walked out the doorway, with its lack of door, the last thing she heard before passing out of hearing range was:

"Uhm, has anyone ever told you that you're uh, un-bear-ably handsome?"

"Heh, no. But you're very attractive."

And thus no good deed ever goesth unpunished.

---------

Postscript:

She blinked her eyes as the bag got pulled off her head, undoubtedly scarecrowifying her hair. Really? This again?

"John, love of my bestie’s life, Steward! I swear to the fridge magnets of old if we are back to this, your shins are going to acquire some new decora— oh you're not John."

The person across from her blinked owlishly. Literally. On account of the owl features on their face. "No, I am not he."

"Ok... so...?"

"Oh! My sincerest apologies. I should introduce myself. I am an acquaintance of Magnemind. My name is—"

"Duskowl, yes. One of the ones Bear and Magnemind are trying to recruit. I mean "reform". I know. My question is more why am I here. Wherever here is."

"This is my lair and I invited you here to be my mate."

"Excuse you?!"

"Oh, uhm. Magnemind gave me your contact information and said to me you were open to courtship. Including one such as me?"

"Look birdie, I'm flattered and all that. And I do swing all ways but this is a bit— Oh, oh no. John gave you dating advice didn't he?"

"Yes. He explained all about how he had wooed his mate."

"I bet he freaking did."

"Although he pressed upon me the importance of not abducting any significant people in your life. Especially not Bear. Not if I did not wish to lose my feathers and find out just how realistic The Owls of Ga'Hoole film was. Which I do not. But I would never dare touch my mentors in such a way "

"So you just abducted me instead. On my way to work. Per his advice."

"Yes."

"That's it! Next time I see him, magnet boy is getting a time out in an empty room while I rearrange his entire collection of novelty magnets."

Halfway across the city, John "Magnemind" Steward got a sudden chill down his back accompanied by an unexplained feeling of dread and impending doom.

[hanmajoerin]

Things to Keep Summary: There were others who loved and needed Kagome even though InuYasha was meant to be with her. He knew this, but gods, the cost of it. A one-shot that was edited and polished to shine just for its 2nd Anniversary.

A/N: Two years ago today, I thanked a close friend for inspiring me with a dream she had because every day InuYasha spent without Kagome must've felt like an unending dream. A few months ago, I polished up "Things to Keep" and submitted it for a Rumic Fanzine project. Unfortunately it was rejected since I'd already published a previous version, but I still wanted to give this piece back to you because I'd fallen in love with my edits. And more than that, I knew you guys loved the original enough to nominate it for the 2021 2nd Quarterly Inuyasha Fandom Awards and you believed in it enough for the story to win third place in the best one shot category. Thank your support back then (and now, too!), and I hope you enjoy reading this special version, taking note of all the little changes.

-X-

Things to Keep (Anniversary Version)

InuYasha lounged under the shade of one of many trees lining the river near Kaede’s village. Miroku washed his family’s night robes with Gyokuto strapped to his back while Sango burped Kin’u. It’d been over a year since the well sealed. InuYasha still thought about the surprised look on Kagome’s face when he was pulled down the well, but he preferred to remember her safe in her mother’s arms. It was difficult to do. 

Kin’u burped and, within seconds, Sango had the newborn secured to her back. She knelt next to Miroku, telling him she’d take over as if she never stopped. InuYasha’s ear flicked. Despite catching their conversations more often, Sango’s tone was gentler than the half-demon was used to hearing. Miroku switched roles effortlessly, choosing to trade Sango’s clean pieces of laundry for dirty ones. 

And this was how they all lived now: resting by the greenery and exchanging cloth instead of sutras, oversized boomerangs, arrows, and swords. InuYasha wondered if Kagome’s days were boring like his; she always seemed frantic when he came to pick her up. Maybe she didn’t have time to think about them anymore. It would be easier for her that way.

Miroku shifted, putting InuYasha in Gyokuto’s line of vision. The newborn extended her arm out to him, and he was fascinated by the way her fingers flexed. The spaces between them were bigger than last month, putting him in a rotten mood. He hated seeing more of the world through those tiny fingers; it just meant the days Kagome spent here were getting smaller than the time they spent apart—if those types of things could even be compared. InuYasha had never really been around human babies before, so how was he supposed to know whether or not the emptiness Kagome left was even similar to babies growing up? The half-demon sharply turned away to offer Kin’u a passing glance instead. It’d be easier to watch that icicle of drool fall onto Sango’s back. 

The spring sun warmed everything in its path, something that only InuYasha’s legs understood while he lounged. 

Now Kin’u was gurgling, gnawing on her fist. 

Miroku once told him how remarkable it was that he always knew which twin was which, but the monk must’ve forgotten about InuYasha’s nose. The girls looked the same, but their scents were unique. It was kind of like Kikyo and Kagome’s: similar but only on the first sniff.

The afternoons were getting longer again. 

The sun’s reflection on the river’s surface shone like a beam now, hitting InuYasha right in the eyes. He blinked a few times, scowling. Damn thing made it nearly impossible to get a good look at that fibrous white towel, the one with the unmistakable blue polka dots that Sango was taking from Miroku. 

As if possessed by a demon, InuYasha was there. Standing by the river, standing before Sango. ....

Want to read the rest?

"Things to Keep (Anniversary Version)" II AO3 II II Fanfiction.net II

"Things to Keep" (OG) II AO3 II II Fanfiction.net II

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Marquis Who Mustn't. By Courtney Milan. 2023.

Rating: 4/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Series: Wedgeford Trials #2

Summary: One good fraud deserves another… Miss Naomi Kwan has long wanted to take ambulance classes so that she can save lives. But when she tries to register, she’s told she needs permission from the man in charge of her. It would be incredibly wrong to claim that the tall, taciturn Chinese nobleman she just met is her fiancé, but Naomi is desperate, and desperate times call for fake engagements. To her unending surprise, Liu Ji Kai goes along with her ruse. It’s not that Kai is nice. He’s in Wedgeford to practice his family business, and there’s no room for “nice” when you’re out to steal a fortune. It’s not that the engagement is convenient; a fake fiancée winding herself into his life and his heart is suboptimal when he plans to commit fraud and flee the country. His reason is Kai and Naomi were betrothed as children. He may have disappeared for seventeen years, but their engagement isn’t actually fake. It’s the only truth he’s telling.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: microaggressions, graphic sexual content

OVERVIEW: I read book 1 of the Wedgeford Trials a few days ago, so why not continue on to book 2? I love Courtney Milan's work, so there was no reason not to dive right in. And I'm glad I did; book 2 was just as touching as book 1, and I loved getting another story about the inhabitants of Wedgeford. The only reason my rating is a 4 instead of a 4.5 or 5 is because I think Kai's story is a little over-complicated, and though I could keep all the threads straight in my head, they did stretch believability. But even so, this book was a delight.

WRITING: I don't think I have anything to say about Milan's prose that I haven't already said before, but let me remind everyone: I love the way Milan makes her writing seem so effortless; it's quick, it's descriptive, it's full of emotion, and it balances showing and telling well. It's also full of heartfelt speeches that I've come to associate with her stories, and it had a tendency to grip my heart at the most unexpected times.

PLOT: The non-romance plot of this book follows Naomi Kwan and Liu Ji Kai as they pretend to be engaged (to each other) in order to both get what they want. Naomi wants to take ambulance classes in Dover; her parents (especially her mother) disapprove, so she slips away to sign up and uses Kai as her fiance who can give his permission. Kai uses Naomi as something of a shield to ingratiate himself to the people of Wedgeford; when last he was in the village, his father defrauded the inhabitants of a large sum of money. Now Kai is back to make things right while also pulling off a fraud of his own.

The strongest parts of this narrative, in my opinion, were not the moments when Naomi took her classes. As admirable as it is to have Naomi want to have basic first aid skills, the classes themselves became less important once Naomi and her mother started being honest with one another. As they talked about why Mrs. Kwan is opposed to the classes and what she sees (or doesn't) in her daughter, the evolution of the mother-daughter relationship became extremely compelling and heartfelt, and I loved that Naomi and Mrs. Kwan came to understand each other in ways that led them to reexamine their own behaviors.

Kai's arc in some ways mirrored Naomi's in that he had to redefine his relationship with his father. Though Kai's father is not present, their relationship affects the way Kai moves through the world, and it was satisfying to see him confront his past and his family in ways that paralleled Naomi.

However, I do think that Kai had quite a lot going on between his history, his "rules," his various goals, etc. I personally didn't feel like the childhood engagement added much to the story (and may have in fact been too coincidental and too much), and I think the "rules" could have been used as a structuring mechanism. But the heart of the story balanced out these overcomplications, so I wasn't as bothered as I could have been.

CHARACTERS: Naomi, our heroine, is easy to root for because she is determined to do what she wants to do. I liked that she was stubborn and didn't much listen when people tried to tell her what to do, and I loved that she was so quick to see Kai's value despite his past. I also really liked that her arc involved Naomi learning to value herself. Because of her relationship with her mom and being rather "plain" and hardworking, Naomi believes that she is unworthy of love. However, with Kai's help, she learns to redefine what it means to love and to view herself as worthy, so there was a satisfying message of self-love that ran parallel to the romance.

Kai, our hero, is the very picture of the guilty man with a shameful past, but I liked that he wasn't too mopey. He certainly grovels a lot and thinks poorly of himself, but this just means that his arc is similar to Naomi's (regarding valuing oneself). Kai also grapples with the feeling of being a burden on others, and it was satisfying to watch him learn that accepting support didn't mean he was indebted to people; people are willing to help those they care about, and deep down, all Kai wants is for someone to care.

Side characters felt more instrumental to the plot than the side characters in book 1. Naomi's mother, for example, had an arc of her own, learning not only to be honest with her daughter but to realize how unfair she had been to Kai both in the past and in the present. Mr. Bai, one of the villagers, is chatty and humorous, but also is one of the first to show Kai acceptance (which is important because he is also one of the most badly hurt by Kai's father). Even Naomi's extended family, including her aunt and cousin Andrew, felt present in a way that was real and grounding, and I appreciated the glimpses at their dynamics.

The only character I wish had been better done was Kai's father. Mr. Liu pops in briefly, and while I understand why, I also think it felt too abrupt and was over too quickly.

TL;DR: The Marquis Who Mustn't is a heartfelt story about two people who must learn to value themselves. Between the emotional mother-daughter relationship and the radical acceptance of the hero by the people of Wedgeford, this romance questions the degree to which one is shaped by one's family versus one's actions.

ROMANCE: Naomi and Kai's relationship is a fake engagement story, but there's less emphasis on the characters trying to deceive everyone than there is a focus on the two of them making one another feel wanted. Naomi and Kai both have a visceral understanding that no one will love them, but being drawn into a fake engagement shows them that others can care for them and even motivate them to love themselves.

I very much enjoyed the moments when Kai stood up for Naomi or listened to her when no one else would. He puts her desires first and never tries to control her, which endeared him to me.

I also loved that Naomi was almost fiercely compassionate and understanding, not allowing Kai's past to affect the way she views him in the present. Whenever she stood up for Kai, my heart just melted, and I always felt like the two of them had each other's backs.

[awellboiledicicle]

I just remembered another Hypnos/oc au i had that involved a daughter Loki had with [spins wheel] who knows just before he was, you know, chained to the boulder.

Under the cut bc long

Her name is Osk and has the patience of Thor, Loki’s bent for magic, and the body of a brick wall. She’s actually a perfectly nice person when not annoyed, the problem is she loves her brothers and sister. And isn’t entirely convinced the world would end if they were treated better, which is a problem because Odin is 99.9999999999999% sure she’s wrong on that. Good news is she was basically Freya’s ward due to the goddess just kinda finding her one day after her mortal mother died of sickness. Bad news is Freya and Odin have been watching Demeter’s unending winter spiral out of control for the last fifty years and they’re... well not antsy. They know Ragnarok is going to come at some point. They’re just in agreement that maybe the great tree shouldn’t get frostbite early, nor should Fenrir be allowed out of his chains just because his little sister thinks he could be calmed with some work.

So a pantheon spanning convo happens between Odin and Zeus--who is also not loving the long winter, or the warring he isn’t involved in over resources--to figure out what to do. Because if the long winter is the Big One, their only hope of stalling it would be cutting out a possible trigger. And the best way to do that, since they can’t just stick her in Helheim because she might stir up Hel early, is to lock her in place somewhere where she can’t possibly contact her family. And them greek gods sure are good at locking up big powerful things. AKA Zeus offered to bind her into service of Hades. Because he does, at the time, have a reputation of only letting very specific cases leave his realm--and only if they follow the rules. It keeps her busy--he knows his brother, though they don’t talk much lately, will have work for her. And, maybe, the resulting offense from Hades will make him answer one of Zeus’ calls. It doesn’t. Hades answers a missive from Odin about it. No one knows how the raven got into the House in the first place, but it seemed content to follow Charon out. They come to an agreement that, yes, he’ll take Asgard’s problem child so long as she does a service to his house and doesn’t cause trouble. Which is good, since he will be her master for all intents and purposes. 

What’s bad is Osk and Freya--who is there largely to make sure she doesn’t channel her father and fuck off--show up about a month before Zagreus starts trying to escape. Which gives Freya time to try to convince Hades to marry Zagreus and Osk in a bid of ‘well if shes married perhaps it will slow her response upon ragnarok’. Hades, much too tired for this scheming and already trying to just be a good host until she fucks off, keeps saying no. Partially because he doesn’t want to deal with the chaos of a wedding, and partially because he seriously doubts Zagreus would be able to keep a wife. Just on a responsibility level. Then Freya tries to talk him into marrying her off to one of Nyx’s sons, assuming he’d have a say in that since the story was still that Zag was Nyx’s son. Hades definitely does not have the energy or time for this and says no.

Meanwhile Osk is not quite sure why she’s there. Like she knows she’s been essentially sold into service, the end date of which is ‘when the world ends’. She’s aware of the mechanical why. She just doesn’t understand why it was necessary-- she doesn’t want Ragnarok to happen any sooner than anyone else. She simply doesn’t want her family to suffer in the meantime. But no one seems to believe her, and thus. 

The upside is she does meet Zagreus and get along with him rather well--though sparring is done only under close supervision of Achilles. Osk might have a more mortal kind of immortality, but she also fights like she’s trying to tear someone apart with her bare hands. Zagreus, being trained by Achilles, does much the same. Which means if they’re not careful, they’ll both be climbing out of the pool of Styx. Which is best avoided. Meanwhile she’s very interested in Hypnos, in a very specific kind of way. Initially, she was curious if he and hsi river Lethe could be used to calm her brothers into stalling ragnarok, or on her father to make him sleep so deeply that the venom in his eyes no longer pained him enough to cause earthquakes. Then she got to know him and her interest turned into: “He is a funny little man, more suited like a housewife than some master of the realm.”

Basically she went “he’s pathetic, i love him” and spent a lot of time giving him pretty trinkets because she liked how flustered he got. Meanwhile he’s a bit caught up in the fact she could destroy him. The fact he was told, very sternly, that he was to knock her ass out if she disobeyed orders was noted and filed away behind her calling him a delicate poppy.

When Zagreus fucks off for the first time, shes the one who gets the job of hauling a very upset Cerberus out of the lounge. Her job, until Zag gets his as security tester, is literally to carry things around for Hades. Not because he can’t carry things, but because there’s so many fucking rolls of parchment. She’s just glad she doesn’t need to memorize all of them because oof.

She also refuses to believe Theseus isn’t Asterius’s father. She doesn’t know the story, no one wants to teach her to read to learn the story or tell her the story, so she just. Assumed, because of proximity. Hypnos corrects her because he’s his favorite fighter and oh darkness, no.

Once Zag gets his security job, he principally hijacks her for what he calls ‘stress testing’ on the off chance the shades are getting too used to how he fights. This is also known as ‘Osk punches her way through the underworld until she actually needs a weapon, in which case she just summons one with magic because what kind of woman would she be if she could not magic up a sword bigger than Theseus on command’.

That said, she’s mildly upset to find out Demeter throwing a fit is why everyone back home got so nervous. Well, not a fit but an overreaction. It’s not like the mortals asked Persephone to go missing. Once Persephone comes back though, Hades has to order her not to tell anyone. Because while yes, it would stop the winter if Demeter were focused instead on her daughter, it would mean a much larger war.

basically im ponder

[amerrierworld]

Little Songbird (pt 2)

Part 1: x

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu becomes addicted to your voice and wants to hear you… sing some more.

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,870

Warnings: The Smut Chapter~

Over the next few days, Lady Dimitrescu barely caught a glance of you. Either you were overworking yourself, or avoiding her. The thought made her bristle with annoyance, mostly aimed at herself. Had she scared you off?

Down below in the servants’ quarters, you tried your best not to pay attention to the rush of heat that went through your body every time you remembered Lady Dimitrescu’s lingering gaze on you. 

You hadn’t seen her, or frankly you had tried avoiding her. You kept to your duties, overworking yourself, distracting yourself, wondering if what you felt was unholy. Wondering if she felt the same.

“Lady Dimitrescu has asked you to clean her personal study,” the head housemaid said one day in the kitchens. You paled a little, nearly dropping the plate you were drying off.

“..Oh?”

“You’re to go there after dinner tonight.” She was absent-mindedly polishing some of the silverware at the counter, not noticing how you had reacted. “The Lady will run you through what’s needed.”

“She.. she’ll be there?” 

“Yes, of course," she replied, “she’d never let any of us in by ourselves. I would know.”

She definitely would. It was only her that would ever be allowed in Lady Dimitrescu’s study to clean. But she didn’t seem to mind it was you who was on that duty tonight... you dreaded the massive list of things you would probably have to do. Was this a punishment?

“Clean yourself up before you go.” She eyed your dirtied apron and ashy skirt. “No use if you're just going to mess up what you’ll be cleaning.”

And so, with fresh clothes and your face scrubbed clean of grease, you made your way up through the castle levels to get to the study. On the way, you heard faint buzzing down the hall. 

You turned to see dark robes disappearing around the corner, and suddenly the dimly-lit hallway was a lot more ominous and foreboding than before. Hurrying down the direction you needed to go, you tried not to drop any of your supplies as your heart-rate picked up.

Just around the corner, you kept thinking, just a little further and-

“Boo!” 

You shrieked, shock coursing through your body in a split second as Miss Daniela appeared right in your face when you turned the last corner. Her bloodied mouth split into a wide, cunning smile at your reaction, your face flushing red in embarrassment and sudden fear.

“Oh, now that was fun, wasn’t it?” she cackled, circling around you with the curiosity of a feline, far too close for comfort, “I haven't seen you up here before.”

The water in your bucket had managed to spill over the side in your jump, and you felt your stockings and shoes soaking through. You grimaced at the feeling and Miss Daniela could only giggle.

She tugged at your hair like a bratty younger sibling as she disappeared in a swarm of insects that buzzed around your head, calling after you,

“Have fun~” 

You felt the water squish in your shoes as you walked the last few steps towards the intimidating double-doors of Lady Dimitrescu’s personal study.

It wasn’t anything like the last study you had cleaned. It felt massive to you- everything must have been custom made for her. The chairs, the desk, the bookcase. You’d have to do some real climbing to clean all the nooks and crannies in here.

But it was the piano in the centre of the room that really caught your eye. It was dark- but not quite black. There was a rich, deep red sheen to it, and just like everything else in the room, it seemed to tower above you.

And her- 

Lady Dimitrescu was already in her nightly attire- a long-sleeved nightgown. It was a cream colour, as always, and you wondered if the light was a little stronger, how sheer the fabric would be..

“Ah, there you are.” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you straightened up a little. “Come closer, little songbird. Into the light.”

The nickname made you blush furiously, though you did as she asked. So she hadn’t forgotten you. Was that supposed to be a relief? The squish of your shoes made you grimace, and from the way her eyes trailed down, she heard it as well.

“Did it rain on the way here?” she asked, dryly. You looked down at the carpet, clutching your supplies. You were leaving footprints behind. You’d definitely have to clean that thoroughly.

“I- I spilled some water on the way here. I.. tripped,” you said. You didn’t think ratting out her daughter would put the Lady in a good mood. 

Her expression didn’t prove to you that she believed you, but she let it be. She picked up a small sheet of paper with listed chores and handed it to you without much thought.

You expected an explosive list of unending duties, but you were quite surprised with the sparse instructions. Dust the bookshelves, sweep under the piano, scrub the floors...

This was one of the few rooms in the entire castle that looked, quite frankly, immaculate. Everything seemed to have a place already, so you really didn’t need to do much at all.

You quietly set to work without any further commentary, and didn’t catch the way Lady Dimitrescu watched you from her desk when you came into her peripheral vision. The letters from Mother Miranda didn’t register in her mind as she listened to you work, hoping for the sound of your voice. Then she heard you hum, lightly, only for you to catch yourself mid-dusting, and stop altogether.

When you got to the piano, you needed to move the bench to get under and sweep, but when you pushed against the heavy piece of furniture, it screeched against the floor, startling both of you.

“Sorry,” you squeaked, barely audible. You looked up and caught her deep yellow eyes staring at you intently, and something stirred deep inside you.

“I didn’t know you played,” you commented once you realized Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t going to say anything to break the awkward silence. In fact, she adored seeing you so flustered and shy, and didn’t want it to end.

“I don’t often,” she eventually replied. She stood up from her desk, and you nearly snapped your neck keeping your eyes on hers as she rose above you.

You hurried out of the way as she came to sit on the bench. Lady Dimitrescu lifted the fallboard and a soft, light chord rung out as she pressed down on the keys. 

“Can you match pitch?” She was testing some of the sound in various chords, simple but effective. You watched her fingers dance, only to realize you had not seen her without gloves before now. The nails were painted in a dark, deep red. Her fingers were long and pale, and the skin on the backs of her hands were marred with little silvery scars. You wondered what they tasted like.

She gestured for you to come sit next to her, and you clambered up on the bench to kneel on the cushion. Lady Dimitrescu played a little more as you hummed along with the chords. 

“Sing a song for me, pet,” she said, without glancing towards you. Her hands stilled to give you a moment to think, but your brain was only short-circuiting. It was like all of a sudden, every known song had disappeared from your memory.

Then a finger tapped your chin and lifted your head up to gaze into her eyes, and you sighed in contentment at the physical touch. 

Her eyebrow quirked a little, as if barely registering the sound you made. 

“No? No ideas?” she asked. Her perfume was that much denser when close to you, and it overwhelmed you. You could only weakly shake your head, nerves churning in your stomach.

“Well, we can’t have that,” she hummed. “I still want to hear you, little one.”

“I’m sorry...” you began, but she tutted. She’d make you sing in a.. different way. She wasn’t going to let you go after all those agonizing days without getting to hear you properly.

The hand that was holding your chin dropped down to your thigh. Your eyes were still adoringly glued to her face as she dropped the fallboard back over the keys. It nearly made her blush.

The world surged around you as you were suddenly lifted up from your seat. You were put on top of the piano, facing Lady Dimitrescu, and she nudged your legs apart so she could lean forward a little more. Your eyes were level with hers now, and you caught a flash of her white teeth as she smiled, lovingly, but devilishly. 

“Do you think you can sing well?” she asked, one hand wrapping around the entirety of one of your ankles. You immediately shook your head. The dampness of your feet and legs caught her attention, and she tutted again.

“Off,” she ordered, leaning away, before wiping her hand on her dress. You hurriedly did as she asked, tugging down your still-wet stockings, ripping a little bit of the fabric, but you couldn’t mind with the way Lady Dimitrescu was eyeing you.

“Good girl.”

You clamped your thighs together, and she definitely didn’t miss that. Her hand went back to wrap around your ankle, now fabric-free. The other reached out to cup the side of your jaw, trailing down and wrapping around your neck, squeezing lightly for less than a second. Then it lowered even more and undid the top button of your dress.

“Still want to stay and sing for me, little songbird?” she asked, her hand lingering, but not moving from its spot. “Your tasks are long done.”

That was not true, you hadn’t even swept yet. But you slowly began to realize maybe the chores had nothing to do with you coming up here tonight.

The question burned deep inside you, and Lady Dimitrescu looked like she wasn’t going to move until you gave your consent. Though you loved the tension that was building, you began to feel restless.

“Yes, please.” You inched your legs a little wider, and her smile grew. 

“Such a pleasant sound, your voice,” she said, as her hand from your ankle trailed up your leg. “I was enraptured many weeks ago, when I heard you for the first time.”

“You.. you’ve heard me before?” you gasped a little, because her cool fingers pressed against the sensitive inside of your thighs. You thought you were always alone when you sang during work.

“Oh yes,” she grinned, “now sing for me, little pet. Make all the noise you want.”

Her mouth was on yours in an instant, filling your lungs with perfume and warm breath. The buttons on your dress came apart as her hands pulled at them one by one. Your skirt was pushed up, and then she pressed down on your torso to get you to lie on your back. The piano was smooth and cold beneath, and there was a brief moment you regretted that it was definitely going to be dirtied by what was to come. But then Lady Dimitrescu’s mouth latched onto your neck and all thoughts evaporated from your brain. 

There was a pinch as she nipped at the soft skin between neck and shoulder, making your back arch and your body lift off the piano.

“Hmm.. delightful,” she growled. Her large hands slid up your dress and your entire lower half was exposed.

“Oh, I can smell you,” she sighed. She pulled back only a moment to tug the dress off your whole body. Your fingers scrabbled against the piano’s slick surface as you felt your nipples harden at her touch.

She sat back on the bench and scooted forward, leaning down to inhale your alluring smell as you lay there, gasping for air. 

“Now.” She pulled your legs apart, eyes zoning in on your cunt. “I want to hear you sing.”

Her mouth pressed against your folds and a warm, wet tongue slipped up to catch your clit. A squeal escaped you and she kissed it a little more in reward.

“That’s it. More.”

Her fingers dug into your thighs before she began sucking and licking almost aggressively. Your body was trembling with every swipe of her tongue, every delicate nibble on your folds.

Your gasps rose in volume, your voice breaking in small squeaks and whimpers. Though she adored it when you carried a tune, this was much more satisfying. 

Her tongue pressed inside without any hesitation. You felt it curl and push inside you, catching your wetness and scent. A low growl in the back of her throat made you cry out, and her grip tightened even more.

It wasn’t going to take long, you realized. The despair in her relentless tongue, her piercing eyes watching your body rise and drip with sweat made the coil tighten with every passing moment. 

Her pupils were blown, and every time you let out another sound, she pressed on a little harder, a little faster.

“Oh!” Her tongue had slipped out and were replaced by two thick fingers. Your cry of delight earned you her warm lips wrapping around your clit, and you couldn’t help but grab at her head of thick, smooth hair. 

The curls slipped delightfully through your fingers and you were watching the ceiling, trying to make out the shapes in the darkness, until she pulled away and said,

“Eyes on me, dear. Nowhere else.”

You had to hoist yourself up with one hand to watch her, and she got back to work immediately. Eyes locked, one hand in her hair, and hers wrapped around you so tightly you couldn’t move away. 

“Fuck..” you hissed out as her fingers curled. Her eyes flashed; she seemed to like it, so you kept going.

“Please..” you begged, hips trying to buck in her hold, “oh, please please.. it feels..s-so good.”

Your thighs had been completely smeared by her lipstick, or those were bruises forming from her grip. Either way, the marks made your head spin with arousal. 

“Please don’t stop... Please, don’t ever stop.” You were gasping, trying hard to focus on your words, but then her mouth sucked hard on your clit, and you were lost in meaningless sounds and little cries of pleasure as you came.

She didn’t stop, revelling in your gasps and broken whimpers, music to her ears. When your body began pulling away and you felt a tingling sensitivity every time she tried to touch your clit again, that was when she knew to let you go. 

Lady Dimitrescu sat back a moment, basking in the sight of you, wet and spent, spread out over her piano and with cum dripping down your thighs. She lifted her hand and wiped her mouth with the back of it to catch any further stray lipstick, but she didn’t quite catch all of it. 

When you could finally breathe normally, you sat up slowly and trembled again under her piercing gaze. 

Your small hands reached out to cup her cheeks, startling her. She thought you’d dash off with your bucket and leave immediately. You inched closer and used your thumbs to wipe the last bits of lipstick, and then kissed her. Soft, sweet, just like your singing. 

You peppered her lips and chin with kisses for a few minutes. She allowed all of it, held you close as you breathed her in. You shifted, feeling your body unstick from the piano with an unsavoury sound and you pulled a face, making her laugh. It made you giddy inside.

You stayed like that for a long while, and you relished in how warm and soft she was. 

“Perhaps you can sing again for me sometime,” she suggested, “an actual song.”

You buried your head into the crook of her neck, making a whiny noise in the back of your throat. She said she liked your singing, yes, but it still intimidated you. Whether it was nerves, or the fact it was her that was listening.. but you did want to please her. Always.

“You realize you sing beautifully, little one?” she eventually asked. “Even when I’m not inside you?”

You let out a burst of giggles and she lovingly kissed your shoulder. The glee of her enjoying your voice and the aftermath of your orgasm soared like butterflies inside you.

“You best get back to your duties,” she hummed, though her hand curved around your waist and held you close, like she wasn’t going to let you go. “The shelves in this castle aren’t going to dust themselves.”

You laughed again, feeling adoration swell up inside you as you ran your fingers through her loosened locks of hair. 

“...can I come back tomorrow night?” you asked feebly.

She chuckled, low and sultry, and tipped your head up to look at her, “you can come whenever you want.”

Your face went beet-red in a matter of second and she grinned widely.

“But tomorrow night.. come to my chambers. And don’t bother with your supplies. Won’t want you getting wet again... at least not like that.”

A/N: thank you all for the love on part 1 ☺️ I hope this meets your expectations <3

[ilalos]

Worth it (Anthony Bridgerton x reader) Part 1/2

Summary: You’re Simon’s cousin and you are ready for your first social season, excited for the courting and dancing. Your plans are shattered when you find yourself in an arranged marriage to none other than Lord Anthony Bridgerton, the one man who avoided love like it was the plague.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, arranged marriage, tiny bit of angst, Anthony is an idiot, if you think of anything else please let me know.

Word count: 2.5k

It was the second season the duke and duchess had the pleasure of enjoying together in their London home. The duke’s household had been rejoicing in the arrival of baby A for a year now and the family was also preparing themselves for the birth of their second child. One might think that they would rather spend these blissful moments away from the chaos that the social season brought, and one might be right.

Simon and Daphne had opted to miss this social season in view of the fact that Daphne would be heavily pregnant when the summer started and would be at risk of having the baby in London instead of the comfort of her home. They chose instead to visit the Bridgerton home before the season started so Daphne could be with her family for a couple weeks with no added stress.

But their plans changed when Simon’s aunt, seeing that they were going to London, decided to ship you, her daughter, with them so you could be part of the social season and hopefully find yourself a husband. The couple had agreed to take you to London and also to chaperone you throughout the social season.

You were a good, polite, and well-prepared lady; your mother had sent you to the finest finishing school in the country to make sure you were molded into the perfect bride. Despite the extensive preparations your mother had subjugated you to, there was one thing they couldn’t take away from you and that was the desire to marry for love. Everyone told you that what mattered was how well you could marry, that you’d eventually grow to tolerate your husband and that your children would give you more than enough joy; but that just didn’t seem enough for you. It didn’t matter how you felt about a loveless marriage though, your mother had been clear when she told you that you had this one season to find a husband and if you didn’t she’d choose for you whomever she seemed fit.

On the day of your arrival you learned she didn’t intend to give you even one season and, with no previous notice to you or him, you were introduced to Anthony Bridgerton as his bride.

Violet Bridgerton had grown tired of her son’s refusal to marry and after pressing him about the matter he admitted he was looking for a wife this season; she didn’t trust him to choose well and when Daphne wrote to her mother about you, she decided it was the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. And so, with your mother’s blessing, Lord Bridgerton was given your hand in marriage.

“I beg your pardon?” Anthony was shocked, to say the least.

“You heard me, son, this is Lady (y/l/n) and she is to be your bride”

You couldn’t think, move or do anything but stand there staring at the man you were supposed to marry. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish and Daphne had to guide you to take a seat because she feared you might faint. Anthony then excused himself and fled to his study with Simon hot on his heels.

“I’m deeply sorry for throwing this at you with no warning, your mother warned that if you were told before you got here you might have refused to come at all” Violet apologized taking a seat in front of you and taking one of your hands between hers.

“Anthony is a wonderful man and I’m certain you will learn to like him, maybe even love him” continued Daphne.

Meanwhile, in Anthony’s office, a similar conversation was being held.

“What excuse do you have now to reject her?” Asked Simon

“I don’t know her, that’s enough to not want this marriage”

“You said you didn’t wish to love the person you had to marry, so I don’t see the big deal in not knowing her” Simon served himself and Anthony a drink as he spoke.

“Even with that being true, I also said she had to be smart and at least interesting to talk to” he took a small sip of his drink “and also that it wouldn’t hurt if she happened to be beautiful”

“And isn’t she?” Simon raised a brow behind his cup before continuing “She is incredibly smart, kind and she also attended the best finishing school available in the London area, which means she is as proper as a lady can be”

“Well yes, but-”

“Your only problem with her is that your mother forced her upon you”

“My only problem is that I saw in her face she had no idea she was betrothed to me, it is not fair for her to be forced to a short and loveless marriage like ours will be” Anthony finished his drink and slammed the cup on his desk, he knew there was no way out of this.

“She, as any lady in the country, knows that her duty is to marry well” Simon placed his cup softly besides Anthony’s “You’re the most desirable bachelor this season, there’s no better man for her if we look at status, money, and age”

Anthony limited himself to roll his eyes and remained silent, he knew Simon was right but it still stung that because of him you were now forced to be married to a man you didn’t love.

“Well, she’ll be a young widow so she’ll eventually have a chance at finding love”

A knock on the door interrupted Simon’s answer and he was thankful because he was quite frankly tired of Anthony’s certainty that he would die young, he understood that Edmund’s death had been hard for him but it was still tiresome to hear him speak like that constantly.

“Yes?” Called Anthony from his desk, prompting Gregory to enter.

“Mother requests both your presences in the dining hall for supper, now”

The rest of the day was uneventful, Anthony refused to speak to you and you were too shocked to utter a single word to anyone. After supper you excused yourself and went to bed early, when you had laid down Daphne entered your room and gave you a letter from your mother before saying good night and wishing you sweet dreams. You sat up and decided to read the letter before bed, maybe it would bring you some comfort.

“My dearest daughter,

If you’ve received this letter it means that you know about your engagement to lord Bridgerton, we couldn’t find a way to tell you because we feared you might refuse to travel to London if you knew. I hope you understand that all I’m trying to do is securing your future, the viscount is a kind man and you’ll be safe with him. I sincerely wish for you to be happy by his side, and maybe even learn to love him.

I know your father is looking down at you proudly and I’m certain he’ll bless your union with happiness, you were his sunshine and he’ll always take care of you no matter where he is, as will I.

Love,

Your mother who loves you”

You couldn’t help but feel angry at your mother for lying to you like that as if you were a child with no control over your own emotions. It would’ve been nice to know about your fate before you got here, it would have saved you from daydreaming about balls and love matches that you now knew were never going to be possible. Still, you were grateful that they had chosen Anthony, they might as well had promised you to an ugly old man. So you fell asleep that night disappointed on the false expectations you were allowed to have, but grateful for having secured the best bachelor in the season without even trying; it might not have been a love match but at least it was a good one.

-this time jump is brought to you by Roma, my golden retriever-

“If we are to be married no matter what, shouldn’t you spare me the pain of courting her?” Anthony was straightening his tie as he spoke to his mother.

“Courting, in this case, isn’t meant to convince her to marry you, it’s so society can see your intentions are respectable” she took over his hands and settled the bow tie once and for all “this ball is the perfect opportunity for everyone to see you both as a couple”

“And you act as if you weren’t already attending for Eloise” Benedict entered the room also dressed for the ball.

“Chaperoning, not dancing” clarified Anthony.

“It’s only one dance, my lord, it will be over before we know it” you had entered the room without anyone noticing and Anthony was a little taken back by your beauty, but recovered quickly enough.

“The dance might be, but the ball will be unending” with that he left the room to go and rush Eloise, they were going to be late.

You frowned a little looking at his retreating form, he hadn’t said anything about the way you looked, not one single compliment for his future wife. Benedict must have noticed your disappointment because he swiftly stepped in to make you feel better.

“You look positively stunning (y/n)” he kissed your hand with a small wink “My brother sure is a lucky man”

“That he is” called Daphne from the door “Here you go darling” he placed a tiara on your head, “I told you it would look wonderful with your dress, now let’s go” she patted your back softly “Simon’s waiting for us in the carriage”

“We’ll see you at the ball, my dear” called Violet seeing her daughter to the door.

The ball was beautiful and you felt overwhelmed by the number of people in the room. Simon and Daphne guided you through the room and you felt everyone’s stares on you, you hadn’t presented before the queen because you were already in courtship with Lord Bridgerton so everyone was seeing you for the very first time.

Daphne had begun to feel tired and Simon had left to fetch her some lemonade while she found somewhere to sit down for a while, leaving you unchaperoned and praying no one would approach you while they were gone.

“Excuse me, miss?” So much for prayers.

“Yes?” Yo faked a smile as best as you could looking at the old man in front of you.

“I see you have so much space in your dancing card, perhaps I could book myself the next dance?” Your card was in fact empty because your darling fiancé had yet to appear.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible Mr. Wyatt, since she’s dancing with me,” said Anthony who had gotten to you just in time.

“Perhaps the next one, then?” Persisted Mr. Wyatt.

“That would be my dance” this time it was Benedict who saved you “Would you look at that? Her card is full, maybe you could try on the next ball” You hadn’t even noticed them scribbling all the Bridgerton’s names on your dancing card until it was full, but it now was and you were thankful for it.

“Thank you so much, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had had to dance with that man” you thanked Benedict.

“What are brothers for if not to protect future sisters-in-law from dancing with horrid men?” He joked back, making you giggle.

“Well then, let’s have our dance and get this over with” Anthony broke you from your fit of giggles.

“Remember you two, you have to look madly in love” at his brother's comment Anthony only managed to huff some curse words under his breath, dragging you to the dance floor by the wrist.

Once on the dance floor, you both got in position, and when the waltz started you began gliding through the dance floor gracefully.

“For someone who says he doesn’t like balls, you are an exceptional dancer,” you said in a playful tone.

“Mother made us take classes when we were little, any respectable man should be a decent dancer”

“They paid off, it’s a pleasure dancing with you” he didn’t respond to anything so you continued “Are there other talents you are hiding from me, Lord Bridgerton?”

“Not that I’m aware off, miss (y/l/n)” his answer was short and it was clear he didn’t care for conversation.

It had been like this since the two of you had been introduced, any attempt you made to get to know him better was quickly shut down by him. It was as if he wanted to remain a stranger to you, but you were to be married and you at least wanted to know a little about him besides his name and his clear lack of humor.

When the dance ended you left the dance floor and met with Colin by the beverages table.

“Why so sad, love?” The pet name caught you off guard but you assumed it had something to do with the alcohol you could smell on his breath.

“It’s nothing, Colin” you attempted to smile as you served yourself a small glass of lemonade “Have you seen my cousin?” You asked before he continued asking questions.

“He is by those tables with Daphne, a ball is no place for a pregnant lady” Colin pointed to the other corner of the room.

You thanked him and walked to where he had pointed, you were ready to leave, and also what Colin said was true, being in this ball was very stressful for Daphne so the earlier you left the better. Soon you spotted your cousin, his wife, and, to your horror, Anthony.

“Cousin! What are you doing here? I thought you’d be dancing with Benedict” said Simon.

“I was thirsty so I went to get some lemonade, here” you handed a glass to Daphne “I brought you some”

“How nice of you, thank you” she took a small sip “shouldn’t you be having fun? It’s your first ball dear”

“I think I’m quite tired already” you turned to look at Simon “Perhaps we could leave, cousin?”

“If you wish” he looked you up and down, making sure you were alright “Why don’t you and Anthony promenade around the room while I send for the carriage? Just to end the night right, at least in the eyes of the people”

You simply nodded and watched the way Anthony rolled his eyes as he offered you his arm. His plain rejection of you always hurt you, you knew he didn’t love you but never did you expect him to despise you. You walked by his side with a soft smile planted on your face but on the inside, you were hurting because with each day you saw your future clearer, and what the future held for you was being married to a man who could not stand you and would never love you. But then he lead you to your carriage and kissed your cheek when you were out of everyone's view, maybe he didn't find you so bad after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Hi! I hope you enjoyed reading this, if you like it let me know i love the feedback. I’m kind of in love with Anthony atm so that’s why this is the second story I’ve written of him. Thanks for reading! :)

[animationmovieshipps]

Always and Forever

Chapter 11:

The days and weeks passed. Although you were very happy with your freedom and your new life as an independent woman, there were so many things that you had to adjust to.

The first nights you slept alone without anyone's company, you started to felt a little afraid and an inexplicable feeling of insecurity dominated you.

But luckily, you got used to it and it didn't worry you anymore.

On top of that, you had to cook your own food every day, wash your clothes, and oddly enough, you missed the scolding your parents gave you when you did something they didn't approve of.

Whenever you went out on the street to go to work, to visit la Casa Madrigal, or meet Luisa, your mother and you avoided each other as if you were complete strangers and that caused you more sadness than you thought it would. Despite your father assuring you that your mother still loved you more than anything, you had more and more doubts about it.

But those negative things didn't matter anymore, when you remembered that you were going through all that to live a great love, from the first day you knew that you were willing to do anything to be with her.

During this month, there have been so many dates and you've lost count of how many cute little gifts, kisses and gestures of affection you two have exchanged, but you would never get enough of any of it, she was your greatest passion and it was just unending.

Starting to wake up from your sleep, you stretched, awkwardly stretching all 4 of your limbs on the bed, before finally opening your eyes, with a smile on your face when you saw that it was morning.

Last night, you could barely close your eyes, the next day was probably the most awaited day of your life. And when at last came... Nothing seemed to have changed.

Even now having came of age, you felt the same, after all, you hadn't waited to reach 18 to free yourself from your mother's suffocating hug and it's a good thing you hadn't.

As it was a day off work as it was your birthday, you didn't bother to get out of bed the moment you woke up. After enjoying the feeling of being in bed a little longer, you got up, changed your clothes, put your glasses and went to the bathroom to do your daily hygiene.

When you were done, you went to the kitchen to prepare your breakfast, when just as you started to get your things from the closet, you heard a knock on the door. A smile opened on your face as you already knew who it could be. Almost as soon as the door opened, you were hit by a shower of colored confetti.

"Does someone special live here who is having a birthday today?" Luisa asked, while giving you a wink. She was definitely happier for that day than you.

"I don't know." You joked. "Want me to ask to find out?"

"Oh come here." She said as she took you in her arms and showered your face with kisses. "What are you doing?"

"I was about to make my breakfast." You answered, before giving her a kiss on her tip's nose.

"Oh no need, there's already one waiting for you at my house." She said. "I won't take a 'no'!"

"Okay." You laughed.

Arriving at the Casita, you were greeted by her and upon entering, you were bombarded by many birthday greetings from everyone in the house. You would never not be thrilled, at how they always made you feel so loved.

"Hey Y/N!" Mirabel greeted you again when you were done eating.

You were confused as to why she greeted you one more time after you arrived, but still, greeted her back.

"What's up?"

Before she could replied, Isabela intervened and placed her hands on her shoulders.

"Hey cuñadita, Mirabel and I were wondering if you wanted to go... Hang out with us today." She said, with a friendly smile on her face.

You immediately became suspicious, when Luisa insisted very much that you go along with them, but didn't say anything so as not to spoil the surprise they wanted to give you.

"Okay then, let's go." You agreed and the two quickly got on either side of you and led you out of the house.

"... Well, why do you two suddenly want to spend time with me?" You asked.

"Pfft is not for anything specific." Mirabel replied, you smiled and rolled your eyes.

"It's just that we just wanted to spend time with our favorite sister-in-law." Isabela added.

"But I'm your only sister-in-law." You answered.

A few seconds after the awkward silence, the three of you laughed together.

While this was clearly a distraction to keep you away from your house while they got everything ready, you decided to take advantage of it and have a fun time with your sisters-in-law.

It started with the three of you walking around every corner of the city, you being congratulated by all the people on your another year of life.

They didn't let you not notice the smallest details of the landscapes, always pointing to something and talking about it.

You learned a lot that you didn't know, getting into their plan pretending you didn't know anything.

After such a tiring and fun game of Tejo (you didn't know they were so competitive), the three of you sat down in a cafeteria to eat and get some rest.

"Hey Y/N." Isabela called to you, making you look up from the empanadas you were about to eat.

"What?" You asked. "Do you need something?"

She didn't say anything, just slowly pushed the beer glass that accompanied her pastries towards you, looking at you with a smile on her face.

You raised an eyebrow, not understanding what she meant by that gesture.

"Isa, I don't think she knows the ritual." Mirabel said.

"What? What's with this ritual?" you asked, becoming even more confused.

"Oh, it's no big deal." Isabela assured you. "Whenever a Madrigal comes of age, it is tradition to take a sip of alcohol, to symbolize the passage to adulthood." She explained.

"Since you're practically a future Madrigal, it's only fair that you go through this ritual as well." Mirabel added, giving you a smile and a wink.

Forgetting everything, you were extremely happy to be considered one of them enough to be part of their traditions.

"You've never had beer before, have you?" Isabela asked, as you held the glass in your hand.

"Once when I was 4, my dad let me take a sip from his glass to see what it tasted like, but it's been so long I've forgotten." You replied with a shrug.

"Okay then, coming of age, coming of age..." Mirabel said repeatedly, while lightly slamming her fists on the table, her older sister soon joined her.

"Coming of age, coming of age, coming of age..." The two repeated together, until you finally brought the glass to your mouth and took a good swig, making them cheer.

A few seconds later you swallow it, your eyes widened as her drink left an unbearable bitter taste on your tongue. You quickly put the glass on the table, grabbed your lulo juice and drank it like there's no tomorrow to try to get the taste out.

You watched them laugh at your reaction, ending up laughing along with them too.

You three started talking while you ate, until Isabela brought up a subject you'd never talked to anyone before, anyone but your best friend.

"You're slowly stealing our hermanita." Isabela joked.

"Stealing? How?" You asked.

"Looks like she sleeps more at your place than ours." Mirabel responded between giggles.

"Sorry, it's not my fault she's in love with me." You replied, causing Mirabel to give you a little shove on the shoulder.

"She being there for so many days with you, something very passionate must have happened." Isabela said sinuously, while giving you a wink.

When you finally understood what she meant by that phrase, you felt a blush spread across your face, the nervousness leaving you not knowing what to say or do.

"Oh, from your reaction, I can see that it is." She said between laughs.

"No!" You said, the answer came out louder than you wanted. "I-I mean, nothing happened, nothing but a few kisses and a few touches here and there." You explained quietly, looking away from the embarrassment of talking about your intimacy to other people.

"You're talking the truth? Otherwise I'll ask Dolores..."

"I'm sincere." You said, interrupting her.

"Does you have shame?" Mirabel asked.

"No, that's not it." You replied.

"So it's fear?" Isabela asked, you replied with a shy nod.

"Alright, you can share these things with us, we're family." Mirabel assured you in a reassuring tone of voice and placed one of her hands in yours.

You smiled at her, starting to feel comfortable talking.

"Well, recently, I think I've realized that it's not exactly fear that I feel. I think it must be nervousness if it's a bad experience for Luisa, I mean, I've never done that before." You confessed.

"And neither does she." Isabella said. "If you make a mistake, Luisa may make a mistake too, so what? You two can try again and learn from each other. I want you to answer me with all the sincerity in the world right now. You really don't feel ready to take that step." with her?"

You couldn't say that question, she asked for all your sincerity and that's what you would give her.

A long breath left your lips before you replied.

"No, I don't feel like I'm not ready. I think this whole time I'm just using this pretext, to run away from my own insecurities." You said.

"But you don't have to feel that way. Having insecurities is completely normal and admitting you have a problem is the first step to solving it." Mirabel said, which made you smile.

"You're both right. Thank you so much for the advice and for making me see." You thanked them, reaching out and holding their hands in yours.

"It's nothing, whenever you want to talk or need advice." Isabela replied, giving you a wink.

"Wow, we're getting good at this." Mirabel said, proud of herself and her older sister.

"Yes, we should open a psychological clinic." She said, in an ironic yet amused tone of voice.

"I would be happy to be the first investor for this project." You said, joining in the fun and the three of you laughed together.

Timeskip...

Despite not liking to reminisce about things, his mother felt an inexplicable urge to see the photo album of his birth that day.

That was the day she felt so much pain that lasted for hours and seemed endless, but she felt it was all worth it when she held you in her arms for the first time.

You were so small and fragile, but you were still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. That same day, she promised to take care of you and love you forever.

"Mi amor, I'm going..." Manuel warned his wife, but he paused when he noticed that she looked like she was crying.

"Baby, are you okay?"

Hearing the sound of his voice, Consuelo quickly closed the album and threw it aside, while discreetly trying to wipe away the tears that ran down her cheeks.

"Yes, I am, mi amor, don't worry, I'm fine." She replied, trying to act natural.

Knowing his daughter's mother well, Manuel didn't stop being suspicious, he knelt in front of her and as much as she tried to force a smile, he could see sadness in her eyes.

And he was sure what it was about.

"Cielo, stop this war okay? You're not happy this way. Make peace with our daughter and respect her decision..." He asked, but she soon interrupted him.

"No! Not that Manuel, if that's what it takes, things had better stay the way they are." She decided, crossing her arms.

Manuel gave her a sad look before getting up.

"I have to go, the Madrigals invited me to the party they're having for her." He said, before placing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back later."

Your mother was still there, but she wished she could go with her husband to celebrate another year of your life. But despite her stubbornness, she began to wondering if really getting away from you to teach you a lesson, would be worth it.

Meanwhile, you pretended to want to go to the Casita, but Isabela and Mirabel came up with a very lame excuse for them to accompany you to your house. Arriving at the door, you turned around and watched them act excitedly, before realizing you were looking at them and they quickly took a serious stand.

"You can enter the house." Isabela said, gesturing with her hand for you to open the door, while Mirabel cleared her throat.

"Okay." You said, trying not to laugh as you opened the door and walked in with them.

"SORPRESAAAAAAAA!" They shouted euphorically, along with all the rest of the family who were there, as you were hit by yet another shower of confetti.

Even though you already knew that would happen, you felt an immense joy that barely fit in your chest, seeing that they had done all that for you.

The room was all decorated with colorful flags and only the family was gathered there. Luisa remembered when you said you weren't the type of person who liked to celebrate something with the whole town.

"Happy birthday, mi amor!" Your girlfriend exclaimed happily, before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

You smiled at her and looked around, all of her family and her father were there, smiling at you. Not knowing what to say, you started crying with emotion, which caused an "awwwww" among everyone there.

"What is it? Are you okay, vida mía?" Luisa asked as she pulled you into a hug.

"Yes mi amor, don't worry, it's a cry of happiness." You assured her, giving her another smile.

"I don't even know what to say, other than thank you very much. It wasn't long ago that I realized that someone who was right by my side was the one for which it would be worth fighting to be who I really am. I'd never be able to achieve my goals without the support and love of each of you, I love you all so much." You said, unable to hold back your tears.

"Mi querida, we love you very much too." You heard Julieta say softly, as you all gathered for a group hug, some of them also not able to hold back tears with you.

A record player were playing your favorite songs, while everyone had fun dancing, some were sitting while eating and talking, your father-in-law started taking lots of pictures for that day to stay in memory forever.

"How about our favorite couple give a little kiss for a photo?" He asked, while she and you danced together.

"Pa, you know I don't like anything too explicit." She told him, as a blush spread to her cheeks.

"Don't be ashamed, hermanita." Isabela said with a smile.

"But it's no shame, Isa."

"Why not, mi amor? It's just for the photo, please." You asked her, charming and winking.

Luisa couldn't contain a smile as she rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"You know I can't resist when you do that." She said, booping your nose. "Okay then."

Everyone cheered while you gave little jumps of excitement.

Your father watched your happiness from afar with a smile as he sipped his wine. When, he started to hear knocks on his door, as he was the only one who was close to her.

He answered the door, being immensely surprised as never before to see that his wife was there. She smiled at him, giving him hope that she had changed her mind.

And she really had changed her mind, you would settle the matter with Luisa later, but at that moment, what she wanted most was to be her mother again.

"I want to talk to our daughter." She said.

"Enter mi amor, enter!" He exclaimed happily.

Consuelo walked in and couldn't believe what her eyes were seeing: You brushing your lips against another woman's mouth.

In that moment, she forgot everything, abhorred by her actions.

"Y/N!"

Hearing the scream calling out your familiar name, the two of you walked away. You were surprised to see your mother there, as they hadn't invited her.

"Do not do this!" She said, stepping between the two of you and walking away.

"Ma, stop, we weren't doing anything much, it was for the photo..." You tried to say it, but it didn't help.

"Not even for that reason! Come with me." She said, trying again to take you out, but you wouldn't let her.

"Stop! I'm not going anywhere with you!" You said it out loud.

You watched as she turned to your girlfriend.

"I'm going to skin you alive, you ordinary girl!" She raged.

"Stop, inside my house you have no right to offend her in front of me!" You raged, putting your hand on her shoulder and turning her back to you. "You have to go back to your house, because you're not welcome. Do you see all these people looking at you? Because they can't stand prejudiced people."

"It's for your own good Y/N!"

"No, you don't know me. That's why nobody wanted you to come, because they knew you were gonna screw it up!" You screamed, unable to hold back tears of sadness and anger.

"I came because it's your birthday."

"So what? Nobody invited you, because they knew this was gonna happen!" You answered between sobs. "Why did you had to ruin such a happy day for me?"

Unable to stand in the same place as her any longer, you ran to your room.

Manuel took a deep breath in dissapointment, not believing that everything could go wrong.

"Consuelo, let's go outside." He said, taking her hand and she let he lead her out of the house.

"Hijita, are you okay?" Agustín asked worriedly, breaking the silence at seeing that his daughter was crying.

Luisa wiped away some of the tears that rolled down her cheeks and took a long breath.

"Yes pa, I gotta go see if my girlfriend is okay." She replied, before sniffling and walked to your room, leaving her relatives to whisper about what had just happened.

In your bedroom, you didn't even bother to light a match and light the lamps. You just sat on the edge of your bed, holding your legs, staring at the wall in front of you and thinking about everything.

When would she and you finally live together in peace?

Not long after that, you heard the familiar creak that the door made whenever it opened and looked in its direction, seeing your girlfriend walk in and leaving the door open so that a little light could come in through it.

She gave you a beautiful smile. You forced a smile back at her, while without saying anything, she sat down beside you. You soon started to feel better, whenever you were in her presence, she lit up your life.

You reached out one of your hands and gently placed your hand on top of hers. Understanding the meaning of that gesture, she interwined your hands with each other.

She turned her face and looked at you, beautiful eyes looking at you lovingly and making all the bad feelings disappear, leaving only everything good, that is, everything you felt for her.

You scrambled to keep from falling off the bed and threw yourself on her, wrapping your arms around her neck and hugging her tight, never seeming to want to let her go.

Her arms slowly wrapped around your body in a tight hug, a place where you knew you would always be safe and no one would hurt you.

"I love you." You whispered, eyes closed as you felt a single tear fall from the corner of your eye and roll down your cheek.

"I love you too, mi vida." You heard her whisper back to you.

She was there with you, you were there with her. Nothing else mattered.

[angellesword]

EUPHORIA | JJK

It’s Sunday. Jeongguk was supposed to be at the gym, serving looks. You were supposed to be at the church, serving the Lord. But you two were at the mall, looking for baby toys. You guessed this was your punishment for letting him stick his dick inside of you instead of just using an adult toy.

Alternatively:

“We share the same painful views. Won’t you please stay in my dreams.”

word count: 2.6k (one-shot) PART OF INTRO SERIES

pairing: husband!Jungkook x wife!reader

genre and content warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, married au, (forced marriage) mention of premarital sex, pregnancy, abortion, Catholic guilt, death, and mental illness.

Sunday was church day.

This was what your whole family made you believe ever since you were young. They were firm believers of God. In fact, your first word wasn't like what most babies said.

Jesus. This was your first word and your mom wasn't even complaining. She loved to brag about it to other lectors and commentators. Your father, a lay minister, also took pride sharing the same story over and over again.

Frankly speaking, you were getting tired of it.

Don't get it twisted. You loved Jesus and you believed that he was your savior. You even sang worship songs at the church every Sunday. You were the head of the choir; every church goer knew you—well, not only church goers.

Literally everyone around you knew you.

You were also popular at school. People referred to you as the good girl who had it all.

You were pretty, smart, and your boyfriend was none other than Jeon Jeongguk.

The man you were dating was a jock. He made it clear that he didn't like studying, but he still wanted to go to a university and apply for scholarship. You had no doubt that he would get what he wanted.

Jeongguk was a star football player after all.

"Babe, what do you think of this?" You showed Jeongguk a stuffed animal. It was a rabbit.

"Cute," he grinned at you. Jeongguk wasn't sure what he found cute. Was it you or was it the stuffed toy?

You and Jeongguk were currently at the mall, buying toys for Haneul, your son who was turning one this month.

"We'll buy this next time.”

The smile Jeongguk was sporting turned into a scowl when you put the toy back to the shelf.

"Next time?" He furrowed his brow, reaching for the rabbit. "Why can't we buy it now?"

"Guk," you let out a sigh. He was feigning innocence but you knew better.

You knew you couldn't afford this kind of toy. Why did you even ask him to go here? It was obvious that you didn't belong here.

Years ago, you and Jeongguk had plans. He wanted to be a famous football player while you decided to major in Marketing; however, your dreams had been shattered when you found out that you were pregnant with his baby.

You didn't know what to do that time. You just graduated high school. Actually, you were supposed to take the college entrance exam at Seoul University.

The test didn't happen because you felt sick that day. You had been vomiting non-stop and everything smelt awful.

You still took a test, though. It wasn't the kind of test you were expecting. You woke up that day to chase you dream, but instead you ended up chasing your breath as you cried and cried and cried.

You took a pregnancy test and the numbing slap of your mother was enough for you to know that you were a disgrace.

A disgrace, a disappointment, an animal, a disrespectful child, and a....

sinner.

You accepted it all. You didn't mind that your whole family was insulting you inside and out.

You didn't blame them—couldn't blame them.

How could you do that when you saw yourself the same way they saw you?

Your mind was poisoning you. You were blaming yourself. You were blaming Jeongguk. He did this to you.

He did this to you because you let him.

So basically, this was your fault.

You ruined your future and the only way to restore everything back to normal was to have an abortion.

Of course you considered abortion. You were young and so, so scared. How could you take care of a child when you couldn't even take care of yourself?

And what about Jeongguk? He didn't deserve this shit. He was young too. He deserved the world, not a punishment.

You considered your child as a punishment. Why didn't you just stick to dildo? Or a fucking vibrator?

There were so many options. Why did you have to trust that stupid condom? You knew it didn't work all the time.

Nothing worked according to your plan.

"You are going to marry Jeon Jeongguk." Your father's words screamed authority.

Everyone in your family was aware that once your father demanded something, it should be followed without any questions. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was absolute.

"But—" despite knowing the end of this discussion, you still tried to reason out.

You were only able to utter one word before you felt another deafening slap from your mother.

Or was it your father?

You had no idea.

All you knew was that everyone was either physically hurting you or emotionally manipulating you.

"No buts! My decision is final! You are going to marry that Jeon boy!"

Ah, that Jeon boy.

Poor Jeon Jeongguk. He had no idea what was about to happen to him. God. He didn't even know that you were carrying his child.

"We won't allow you to live like a slut anymore," your auntie crossed her arms.

This was the thing about your family. Everyone had a say, even your relative could discipline you. According to them, elders should always be respected. You had to follow what they said because apparently, they knew better than you.

Maybe they did. But still, you didn't want to force Jeongguk to marry you.

Sure, you two had been dating for three years now, but that wasn't enough. What if the love he felt for you wasn't the kind of love that you and your kid needed?

Perhaps you should have thought of that before giving into lust. The tiny voice inside your head sneered at you.

You could only sob.

It seemed like crying was all you could do.

You cried when you found out that you were pregnant, you cried when your parents found out that you were pregnant, and you cried when Jeongguk found out that you were pregnant.

All of this was happening because you were pregnant.

Except one thing:

Jeongguk wanted to marry you not because you were pregnant but because he loved you.

"You don't have to force me.” Jeongguk gritted his teeth when your whole family barged in his house.

Of course the Jeons were surprised. They weren't close to your family even though you lived two houses away from one another.

Your family didn’t want to associate themselves with the Jeons. The latter didn't really believe in the Lord, or even if they did, they were still far from religious.

They raised Jeongguk to be a sinner.

Your family firmly believed that you only got pregnant because Jeongguk forced you.

It wasn't true. You both wanted it to happen. You were consenting adults. Besides, your boyfriend asked you thousands of times if you truly wanted to do it.

He didn't force you. He respected you.

"I will marry her." Jeongguk said with confidence. He was looking at your father as if he was ready to knock him down.

"Jeongguk," his mother called softly. She was crying. She was broken. She was ashamed. She was sorry.

"It's alright, mom." The look Jeongguk gave his mother was the opposite of the glare he threw at your father.

Jeongguk was a sweet boy. He loved his parents so much.

"Shall we talk about the wedding, then?" Your father raised a brow.

Everything happened fast after that. Your family and Jeongguk's parents arranged the matrimony that was about to happen.

The Jeons offered to pay for the wedding expenses. Your family agreed. They didn't really care about the details. They only demanded a church wedding. They also wanted to marry you off as soon as possible.

They said it would be a shame if your baby bump appeared before the white event.

Since the preparation was short, you didn't have a choice but to wear a simple dress. Your mother insisted that you add veil as an accessory.

It was a hypocritical move, really. Veils symbolized innocence and purity.

You were neither.

You were a sinner and guilt was consuming your whole being.

Guilt for disappointing your family.

Guilt for breaking your promise to the Lord.

And guilt for taking something away from Jeongguk.

You took his freedom away.

The small apartment where you two now lived was not enough to showcase what he got. This abode was small, suffocating and confining his talents.

It was also too small to cater your unending tears.

You felt like you were drowning.

"Babe..." Your husband whispered, yet his voice still startled you.

You didn't answer—didn't have the energy to do so. You were drowning, remember? It didn't help that you feel suffocated too. The stupid dress you were wearing was too tight.

"You okay?" Jeongguk enquired, sighing.

He was worried about you. The two of you got married today. It was supposed to be one of the happiest days for brides, but why weren't you happy?

Why did you look...dejected?

"Yeah," you tried to offer him a smile. "I just feel hot."

You weren't lying. You didn't like the ambiance of your house. It felt like a vacation place, like you were a stranger, like you didn't belong.

It was because your mother and sisters were the ones who decorated this place.

"You think you can join me outside?" Your husband rubbed circled on your palm. "Let's have some fresh air?"

You nodded in a heartbeat.

You were tired, but you didn't want to be stuck in this room. You wanted...out.

"Okay.” Jeongguk helped you get on your feet. He was acting as though you were an expensive figurine ever since he learned that you were pregnant.

Your husband led you to the small garden of your home. You didn't know that your family decided to buy a place like this.

You were grateful though. The inside of your home was suffocating, but the garden appeared...magical.

"Jeongguk," your eyes widened in shock. "W-What's all this?"

Your hand was shaking as your eyes scanned the garden. There were fairy lights wrapped around the trees. The place was also decorated with different ornaments and pretty flowers.

Your favorite flowers.

"Do you like it?" Your husband was grinning at you. His eyes were shining brighter than the lights.

"Of course," you cupped his cheeks. "This is sweet, Kookie. Thank you.”

"Anything for you," he brought your hands closer to his mouth, kissing it.

"You deserve everything, baby." And with that, Jeongguk dropped on one knee.

"W-What are you doing!?" You panicked, eyes dilating once again.

"I know everything happened so fast." He started, licking his bottom lip. "We didn't have time to process everything. Our family decided what they think is good for us and trust me, I appreciate it."

You knew he was implying that he wanted this to happen.

"But I want to do something that I want.”  He fished a small box out of the pocket of his slacks.

You gasped.

"They told me to marry you." He opened the velvet box.

There was a ring.

"But they didn't give me the chance to do this," he raised the ring in the air.

"Baby," Jeongguk called, looking at your face with so much fondness. "You deserve a better proposal."

You were sobbing.

"You deserve a man dropping down on one knee. A man who will show you that he is serious about this marriage.”

He took your left hand.

"And I want to be that man. I want to be the man you deserved and not the boy your father coerced,"

You laughed, heart hammering through your chest. Jeongguk was so beautiful.

"I love you..." He confessed as he called your name. "Will you marry me?"

The yes that came out of your mouth was instant. You didn't hesitate. You didn't feel guilty. You just felt....happy.

Jeongguk put the ring on your finger. He kissed your stomach before standing up to crash his lips against yours.

Jeongguk no longer tasted like regret.

He tasted like forever.

Forever...

You swore you would stay with him forever. You felt silly for doubting him.

Jeongguk was a good man.

Your house no longer felt suffocating. It was loaded with love and laughter and it made your heart swell with joy.

Your family didn't bother your life anymore. You were on your own. They stopped supporting you. They said you made a choice—a choice to be a mother.

A mother was a provider, a natural giver.

You provided for your new family. You worked harder. You had two jobs: a waitress and elementary tutor.

Jeongguk continued studying. He was a student in the morning and a delivery boy at night.

You two worked in the same restaurant. Jeongguk tried to cover your shift as much as possible. He was basically doing your job.

He was scared. What if you overworked yourself? He didn't want you to work but you said you had to.

Raising a baby was expensive.

But you did it.

Haneul was turning one year old this month. He was a bright kid and he looked exactly like his father. They had the same brown eyes, so innocent and wide.

You knew you would do anything for your baby—well—except for one.

You wouldn't buy this stuffed toy for him. It's not like you didn't want to. It was more like you couldn't.

You couldn't afford it.

You couldn't, but Jeongguk could.

"Let's buy it...” He repeated. "I have money. I worked overtime last night.”

Your husband was still a delivery boy. You, on the other hand, quit your job so that you could look after your baby.

"Are you sure? This is expensive, Kook." You bit your lower lip.

Jeongguk smiled at you.

"But Haneul will like it.”

His reason was enough for you to just give in.

Of course.

Anything for your little Jeon. You would die for your son.

"Haneul, we're home!" You cooed loudly.

You were excited to see your baby. Jeongguk told you to give Haneul the stuffed toy while he go and express his gratitude to your neighbor for looking after baby Haneul.

Little did you know, Jeongguk was lying.

There was no neighbor to talk to.

It was only an excuse so that he could stare at you through the window as you rocked the empty crib in your room.

You were singing.

"You are the sunlight that rose again in my life..." Your voice was sweet that Jeongguk couldn't help but cry a little.

For you, Haneul was light. He shed light when you felt like giving up.

"You are the cause of my euphoria," your child was also the cause of your happiness.

Without him, you would be lost.

Jeongguk knew it.

Haneul.

This was the name you chose for your kid. It meant heaven.

For you, Haneul was God sent.

But Jeongguk was wondering.

If Haneul was God sent, then why did the Lord take him immediately?

Why did your Lord take him away from you and Jeongguk?

"Close the door now..." You continued to sing.

Jeongguk's heart clenched.

He watched you every day, so he already knew the next line of the song.

He sang with you.

"When I'm with you I'm in utopia..."

Utopia was a special place. A fantasy world. A world where everything was possible.

In Utopia, Haneul was still alive.

Jeongguk wasn't crazy.

He knew you needed help.

You were in denial. Too caught up in fantasy that you refused to believe that your son was already dead the moment he was born.

Haneul died in your womb.

He tried telling you, but you didn't want to acknowledge it.

You became hysterical when the words dead and Haneul were mentioned in the same sentence.

Jeongguk avoided using those words. It had been months now, almost a year actually.

He wondered if he could still continue pretending.

Looking at you hurt.

He guessed it was time to let go.

Not now, but soon.

For today, he just wanted to believe that utopia was real.

It should be fine, right?

more JJK FICS: Your Eyes Tell or check Masterlist

[quillsanddaydreams]

mad first love

remus lupin x reader

—author’s note: I was thinking about how train rides are kind of nostalgic and time stops when we travel and well, this one-shot is the result. What happens when you spend your journey with an ex? Particularly the one you still seem to stuck on? Enjoy!

—warning(s): mentions of food, gender neutral!reader (pronouns aren't used).

—wordcount: 2,476

The train brought back memories. Happy moments. Times that were filled with laughter and glee and lighthearted chats. Smiling wistfully, you moved through the bustling compartments to the one at very end. It was the only one which was empty. Peaceful and quiet. In other words, perfect. Placing your bag at the top rack, you sat down next to the window looking at the crowd outside. A mother fussed over her kid’s hair who tried their very best to move away. The hunched vendor shouted their wares attracting the attention of small children.

“Is this seat taken?” a voice came and you snapped attention towards the sliding door. Your eyes broadened taking in the light brown hair and tired eyes looking around the compartment awkwardly. A flash of recognition crossed the pale face.

Remus.

You didn’t realize you had whispered his name. He gave you a small smile and for a small minute, the two of you just stared at each other. Remus spoke first.

“May I sit here? I’m afraid rest of the compartments are either full or too loud,” he said slowly and you shook yourself.

“Yeah, of course,” you said as he settled himself opposite to you.

How long had been since you last saw him? Six years or maybe more? Your heart clenched suddenly remembering the time you spent with him. You turned to look outside the window again. It always struck true, didn’t it? There was nothing quite like your first love. And you always supposed Remus to be the one.

The train started with a small jolt, moving past the station. People waved their good-byes, some of them running along with the sleeper shouting promises to meet again. Remus however, found himself sneaking glances at you. You had changed. Of course you had, it had been years since he last saw you. Your eyes were the same though. Sparkling with curiosity and threatening to see right through him. It was strange, sitting across you but feeling miles apart. But then again, it was how he made it to be.

The floor hummed as the train picked up pace. You stood up, taking out the book you had been reading before. Town dissolved into outskirts and it seemed too soon that the roads were replaced by unending fields. Placing your bag at one end of the berth, you laid down. It was going to be a long ride and you might as well make yourself comfortable. Remus huddled in a corner scribbling something in his diary. Time passed and you looked over at him, moving your book slightly. He looked exhausted. More exhausted than you had ever seen him at school. His eyes had dark circles as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. Interest took over.

“So how have you been?” you asked as nonchalantly as possible. Remus’s eyes widened, not expecting you to speak to him.

“I’ve been okay,” he started, struggling to find the right words. “Been hunting down jobs. It’s not easy considering, well, my condition.”

You nodded. As much as you knew, he was one of the best as a student— anyone should be happy to recruit him. The wizarding society drowned in irrational fear. It made you sick. Remus had always been insecure about his condition. You remembered trying to help him through it even though he never heeded. Now you wondered how was it possible not to doubt oneself when you were treated like him.

“What about you?” Remus asked, breaking you out of his reverie. “I remember you being passionate about charms. Charming random stuff to fly around by themselves?”

You let out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m doing exactly that,” you said getting up and sitting to face him. You scratched behind your ear. “I’m working for the ministry to improve the transfer of letters and objects. It isn’t that bad, but somehow someone ends screwing up and the room ends in an utter mess. Lucky, I don’t have to clean after.”

Remus grinned seeing you shudder. He followed your hand movements as you re-enacted the explosion. You giggled. Noticing Remus staring at you, you sat up, a bit more properly.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. You felt your ears heat up under his gaze.

“You haven’t changed, have you?” he said, a twinkle in his eye. You raised an eyebrow.

“I could say the same about you.”

Remus’s lips upturned, eyes childlike.

“I don’t know, can you?”

You smirked.

“I mean— messy hair, a grey sweater,” you moved your eyes over his form. Remus shifted in his seat. “dock martins and talking with that always-polite-voice? I would say you haven’t changed at all.”

Remus grinned, ready to quip back but stopped himself. He cleared his throat, looking away.

“Guess I haven’t.”

You fell silent too. The past seemed to cling on to both your backs, heavy and demanding. There was no escaping it.

“How are James, Sirius and Peter?” you asked taking a deep breath, sitting back. Anything would be better than the tense silence right now. Remus looked thankful too.

“James been working with the Bigonville Bombers, Sirius is mostly travelling around and is starting a T.V. show,” he sighed, face falling a little. “and Peter is busy with restoration of his parents’ home”

You rubbed your palm.

“I’m sure you’ll find something soon,” you whispered as Remus shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

“It’s not that easy.”

The train rattled a little. You held onto the edge of your seat and looked out. Dark clouds filled the sky. It seemed that the world was reacting to the atmosphere in your compartment.

“What if you become a teacher?” you said out of the blue. Remus raised his eyebrows.

“A teacher?”

“Yeah. The DADA position is open and Dumbledore was kind enough to let you in the school as a child,” you started. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you there as an adult.”

Remus seemed to ponder upon the idea before shaking his head.

“I don’t know about it. Am I even capable enough to teach children?”

“Well, you definitely were better than any other teacher when we were at Hogwarts,” you stated seriously. “You helped me score a perfect 100 back then.”

Remus let his head fall back, humming in response. A knock shook the two of you. The trolley lady offered the two of you a warm smile.

“What can I get the two of you?” she asked, gesturing towards her cart.

“I’ll love some of those sandwiches and lemonade,” you said, taking out some money from your purse. She handed you the things and you paid her in turn.

“And for you dear?” she asked Remus.

“Nothing, thank you.”

You frowned lightly. There was no way he made something and the journey was going to be long.

“Actually, can I have another one of these?” you asked the woman pointing to the one you remembered Remus liked; as he tried to interrupt. “Thank you”

The trolley lady left shutting the door behind her. You could feel Remus’s gaze on you. Handing the sandwich and the bottle of lemonade to Remus, you sat down slowly. He sighed.

“Did you have to?” he asked as you shrugged. You could see a small smile near the corner of his mouth.

The two of you sat in silence eating and drinking. You recalled sitting with Remus like this. He was never the one to say much and you enjoyed the calm that came with it. How many times you sat huddled with him in his dorm and his friends never even noticed? How many times he had kissed you so gently that you felt you would melt right there? You shook your head. A path down the memory lane didn’t seem like a good idea. Remus didn’t look bothered though. Afterall, wasn’t he the one who wanted to break up? You took a sip of the juice watching the scene outside.

He was supposed to be over you. He was supposed to be over you. Only he found that idea crumbling right then. It had been seven years. Seven long years. Remus had heard about all the people you dated. Successful people. People who were worthy of you. Hadn’t that been the idea all along? Feeling his chest wound up, he took another bite of the sandwich. Damn these feelings.

Time passed as you lay down and read the book you had bought. Remus was focused on his journal. You couldn’t concentrate though. Not for long anyway. Your mind kept wandering off to Remus. Unknows’ to you, he found himself in the same predicament. Both of you wanted to cross the invisible barrier but neither of you wanted to open old wounds. It was strange. You never felt more away. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe you two were supposed to be just strangers. Light rain fell against the window and you found yourself a kind of tranquility fall over you.

“Do you still sing?” Remus asked after a while, his voice soft. Your heart thumped and you inhaled deeply.

“Not anymore, no,” you said, feeling something stick in your throat. You stopped singing after the two of you broke up.

“What— why?”

Remus looked at you curiously. He spent countless nights with his arms around you as you sang softly to him. Listening on fondly as your soft voice lured him to sleep. Those moments were scarce. So precious and gentle that he treasured each one.

“I just don’t,” you said not meeting his eye, giving an intended shrug.

“But—” Remus started and you felt your temper rise.

“Remus I hate my voice,” you snapped. “I hate to sing, always had.”

There was a beat of silence. You pointedly looked at your wrist watch.

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It’s just you sang to me so many times.”

“Well, I saw you in pain and I’d never felt more helpless and hurt,” you said with a dry laugh. Tears pricked your eyes remembering those times. Perhaps you weren’t as over him as you thought you were.

“So when you asked me to sing, I forgot about it for a while,” you continued. “And you seemed to love it. It made you happy. I decided to do it for you from then.”

You let your head fall back, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden. Remus looked down. He didn’t know what to say.

“You did, you made me happy,” he whispered after a while. You snorted.

“Come on, I did not make you happy.”

“You did, you were everything I could ask for—”

“Stop that,” you hissed. “If I were, you wouldn’t have broken up with me.”

You uttered before you could stop yourself. It hurt. As much as it killed you to admit, that part always stung. Your stomach turned. The rain was pouring down heavily, it’s pitter patter filling up the compartment.

“You know it’s funny Remus,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I begged you for a reason. I begged you to tell me why you wanted to break up with me. Just a reason. All you gave me was that it’s not you, it’s me bullshit. And I spent years just nitpicking at my faults. Because I loved you. I loved you so much and I did not know what I lacked in giving you. So, tell me. Please tell me the real reason why you broke up with me.”

Staring at him, you sat up straighter. Remus squeezed his eyes shut. His adam apple bobbed as he spoke.

“It was the career aptitude class. I talked about my condition and what options I had,” he said. “There were close to none. I saw everyone coming back, talking about their futures whereas I sat there knowing I had nothing. And I was right wasn’t it?”

Remus gestured at himself.

“Who— who in the right mind would want to be with me? I felt like I was losing everything and that eventually I would lose you too. And I decided that it was better then, than later. You deserved better. You deserved people who you could match you. Me? I would be a nobody. It seemed proper that I broke up with you.”

Remus fell silent. You opened and closed your mouth several times. He turned towards the window.

“Would it have killed you to tell me just that?” you said, your voice kinder.

“Remus, I had never ever needed you to be successful to love you. Not once. I was, am not someone who needs money or the so-called respect from the world to be happy. Remus, you are worth it. Whether you believe it or not, there are people would love to have you.”

Something flicked over Remus’s eyes. He nodded.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the ride. The grey clouds changed into a sunny sky and you could hear birds flying outside. The compartment was so quiet, one could say it was empty. Sometime in between s kid came in confused, shouting something and running back. Remus and you exchanged a glance and turned back to what you were doing.

Time seemed to fly. You could see your destination all too soon. Taking a deep breath as your station arrived, you got up to take your bags. Remus helped you. He stood behind you as you walked outside. The line was long, people chattered excitedly. You felt something building up in your chest. You didn’t want to say goodbye to Remus again. It didn’t feel right. Stepping down from the carrier, you stopped before Remus. Words failed you two.

“I guess it’s time to go,” Remus said, his voice barely above a whisper. He searched your face.

“Guess it is.”

You moved your arms around awkwardly, praying silently for him to stop you. It was his decision now. He gave you a small nod, and turned to leave. Your head throbbed watching him disappear into the crowd. Clutching your bag tightly, you started to move your own way. Pahul waited for you at their apartment. You would have to take a muggle taxi. All you wanted right now was to curl up and watch some movies to forget all that had happened that day.

“Wait!!!”

You heard shouts behind you and you turned to see Remus running towards you. He puffed out a few breaths, standing in front of you his hands over his bent knees.

“Would you— would you— like to catch up some more sometime? Over dinner maybe?” he asked, a heavy breath punctuating each word.

“Like a date?”

“Exactly like a date.”

You stared at him, his face all read from running, biting his lip waiting for an answer. The scene made you smile.

“I would love that.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill ​ which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 13)

Oh no... 13 is an unlucky number! Oh, well.

Up to this point we've seen Natsume fall in love with Mikan. This next arc is all about discovering Natsume, however, and we've pretty much already talked about that so maybe my analysis for his perspective will leave some things to be desired, which is fine, because Mikan's will come in due time! That being said, there's plenty of stuff in this arc, especially at the start of it, to analyze for Natsume as well.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Takahashi-san has dressed all the Elementary children in their New Year’s kimonos and they are now ready to celebrate the holiday together. They eat a New Year’s feast in the dorms lounge, a rare day where the children don’t have to eat according to their star rank.

It just so happens that New Year’s Day is also Mikan’s birthday. Everyone pretends like they don’t know, because Hotaru told them to leave it a surprise. Mikan is trying to let everyone know about the special day, but the New Year’s cards come in and everyone gets immediately and understandably distracted.

Of particular interest to everyone is Ruka’s card from his mother, who references Natsume and Aoi in her letter. Now everyone is in Ruka’s business and teasing him, so Natsume steps in to help, taking the card from Mikan, returning it to Ruka, and making a very good point that she shouldn’t go looking at other people’s cards without their permission. Mikan is uncomfortable, so she decides to change the subject by asking Natsume how many cards he got this year.

With that, Natsume goes cold and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't want to sit around watching them all gush about their dumb cards anyway!

The truth is Natsume has never gotten any letters or cards, no matter what time of year or holiday it is, and he never will. We can think back to when he told Mikan that the academy would never send her letters to her grandpa. He’d said that the school would never, under any circumstances, allow them to contact the outside. Turns out, the only person who can 100% count on that is Natsume. Sure, he and Mikan are similarly targeted in strange and unfair ways, but he will always be just a little more targeted, because he’s strictly not allowed to have fun or be happy. It would make him happy to hear from his father, to know that he’s safe. The school can’t have anything like that, so they have Natsume sit in the same room as all the other kids, watching them excitedly gush about how many cards they get, while he knows very well he will receive zero each year without fail.

Natsume wants some time to himself, understandably upset about his situation. He’s thinking about Aoi and probably beating himself up because he tends to do that when it comes to his sister and his past. He genuinely has no idea where Aoi is, or if she’s safe, and the school likes to keep it that way, so they can hold it over his head. Aoi is always one of the people they threaten, somebody he works tirelessly to protect despite the fact that he hasn’t seen her in years, doesn’t know where she is, and probably won’t ever see her again.

Natsume looks out the window, sitting on his own, and sees Mikan crying to Narumi because of her guilt and because nobody remembered her birthday. We can see pretty immediately that he isn’t actually upset with Mikan, just with his own situation. He watches her, always lovelorn. Then we see him put his hand on a little bag with a holly decoration. Because of the holly, there’s an instant relation to Christmas. We can’t know what’s in the bag yet, but eventually we will discover that it’s an alice stone.

He's just been carrying this around since Christmas at the latest. How embarrassing.

Natsume made this stone at some point. I would assume it was after his birthday party, before Christmas. Because of the bag, my guess is that he had wrapped it to be a Christmas present but had never given it. That’s understandable. He’s not supposed to woo her, after all, and giving a girl an alice stone would be pretty romantic, even if she has no idea what it means. We will see this stone time and time again, because he likes carrying it around in his pocket. Perhaps he likes imagining that he could give it to her, but never actually goes through with it. Just like today, on her birthday, he will not give the stone, but he’s still carrying it because he’d like to.

The alice stone is proof of at least one thing: Natsume is very much in love with Mikan and he knows it.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Mikan is happily celebrating her birthday. Natsume has returned to the lounge, but he hasn’t said anything, so she’s still feeling awkward about what happened.

The class decides to make mochi once Tsubasa and Misaki arrive. Tsubasa tries to greet Natsume but Natsume responds coldly, with a thumbs down. Now properly irritated, Tsubasa has decided to pull a prank.

Natsume does not make mochi. He sits on his own, napping with manga over his face like always. Once the class is finished, Permy quickly offers her mochi to him, but his attention is immediately on Mikan, who is giving her mochi for him to eat. She tries to apologize, but can’t get the words out, so she leaves the bowl on the table. Natsume can tell that she’s still feeling guilty, even though he isn’t really mad at her. She was thinking of him, so it’s no surprise that he ends up eating the soup, even if it is disgusting.

It doesn't matter if it's disgusting. He's gonna eat it anyway. Because she made it. Zoe and I joke that Natsume would eat all her food (out of his unending love, of course) and eventually get used to the bizarre combinations she puts together. He might even start liking them, who can say.

Hotaru has been invited to the Hana Hime den to be a flower princess, a girl hand-picked by the middle school principal and who carries a heavy amount of prestige and status. Misaki mentions some rumors about the MSP, namely that she locks up her favorite girls in a dungeon, and that immediately gets Natsume’s attention. He’s struck, and to a first-time reader, this might seem odd. He’s strangely intrigued by a girly flower party where guys aren’t even allowed. But he’s not interested for himself. Natsume can guess based on this new information that if Aoi is anywhere on the Alice Academy campus, it’s in the Hana Hime den dungeon.

There’s always an extra invitation ball that is given to a random girl each year, so she can also attend the prestigious party, but the chances that it would land in the hands of an Elementary student are very low.

The Class B girls look for one anyway, but their search doesn’t get too far because suddenly the kids are flying across the room, sticking to each other, like Hotaru and Youichi to Ruka, Anna to Nonoko, Koko to Kitsu, and even Natsume to Mikan.

Turns out Tsubasa’s payback scheme for Natsume giving him the cold shoulder was to put sticky mochi flour into their mochi as a prank, which will keep all the children stuck to the people who ate the same mochi for a full hour.

He was counting on her never finding out he ate it, but alas.

Mikan then realizes that since she’s stuck to Natsume, that he must have eaten her mochi. He can’t argue that he didn’t, but he turns quickly to insults to distract from how sweet of a moment that could potentially be. He says he choked it down, which might very well be true, but it leaves the question of why he’d put himself through the trouble of choking it down if it didn’t mean anything to him. Hmm. Check mate, Natsume.

Then, Mikan finds out that she’s the recipient of the prize jewel, and has thus been invited to the Hana Hime party. There’s something quite fishy about Mikan being the recipient. It’s too much of a coincidence, and it isn’t one. This is all an elaborate trick to trap Natsume in the dungeon forever, and it’s not by the MSP.

Most of the groups have become unstuck, except for Hotaru, Youichi, and Ruka. Tsubasa reads the packet and discovers that some people may be stuck for two or three days as a possible side effect. Mikan and Natsume can become unstuck, but Natsume grabs her hand and keeps her still.

He's not going to miss this opportunity, even if it puts him on the spot and is kind of embarrassing. To be honest, this could possibly unravel all the work he's been doing to downplay how much he likes Mikan. What if she starts thinking he has feelings for her? It's all so risky, but he's willing to do anything for Aoi.

He’s going to do everything he can to go to that party and possibly find his sister. Getting stuck to Mikan and then her being invited to the Hana Hime den is all just too good of a chance to miss. If she can somehow still go while attached to him, it gives him an in to check out the palace and try to find the dungeon.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Natsume is adamant about keeping up the charade that he and Mikan are still stuck. It’s important to him and he’s desperate. He would do anything to save his sister, so if it means threatening Mikan a little, he’s willing to do it. It doesn’t matter that Mikan has no idea what’s going on, what matters is even the chance of going.

Narumi returns to say there’s not a good probability that Hotaru and Mikan would still be allowed to attend the party, because boys aren’t allowed and they are firmly attached to three of them. Mikan has more and more reason to not want to be stuck when she realizes that going to the bathroom and sleeping will be tricky business. Natsume is obviously not a huge fan of it either. He’s usually cold and snippy, even when bickering with Mikan, but this time he’s yelling just like she is. He’s uncomfortable too, but it’s something he’s willing to sacrifice for Aoi.

Mikan only gets more and more upset, screaming about how much she hates Natsume. He doesn’t seem to take it very seriously until Koko, who is reading her mind, asks Mikan if she likes Ruka better than Natsume, and she responds that she does.

Natsume is hurt, but sadly it’s not anything he can’t eventually come to terms with, like every other disappointment in his ceaselessly disappointing life. For now, he’s bitter, but this is great news for Ruka, isn’t it?

It’s time for sleep, and they’re standing in Natsume’s fancy special star room. At her discomfort, he offers that they can sleep in her tiny room if she’d prefer it, but the venue isn’t exactly her problem. He proceeds to be unpleasant, saying that he’s not interested in sleeping with her either, since she probably kicks a lot and talks in her sleep. But then he’s serious, still bitter when he tells her “Sorry for not being Ruka,” and promises that the whole charade would be over tomorrow.

It's on rare occasions like this that Natsume can express even the tiniest fraction of what he's really feeling, in this case jealousy and hurt.

He really never would have done this to himself if Aoi’s safety wasn’t potentially at stake. Having Mikan be so angry at him, hearing her say she much prefers Ruka to him, having to share his bed with her--it’s all stuff he doesn’t want to do! Further, he’ll probably be in serious trouble tomorrow if he does manage to find and rescue Aoi. There’s nothing fun going on in Natsume’s brain, just worry and the skeleton of a desperately laid-out plan to save his sister.

Sleeping with Mikan is something he doesn’t want to do, no doubt, but not because she probably talks and kicks in her sleep. That wouldn’t actually bother him so much. Natsume usually waits until he’s alone in his room at night to let himself be sick. According to the chapter where Tsubasa found out about his condition, Natsume sometimes wakes up in a coughing fit until he coughs up blood. He suffers and struggles and is in pain when he sleeps, and Mikan will be there this time, up close to possibly see it.

How soft his eyes get, just looking at her. It's interesting whenever he drops his facade, like now in a state of half-awakeness, and we can see just how affectionate he'd be if he wasn't always sacrificing his happiness.

But Natsume falls asleep first anyway, and pretty quickly starts having a nightmare. He’s breathing heavily and struggling, having a PTSD flashback nightmare about Aoi. But Mikan wakes him up, sitting up, concerned for him. Natsume is barely awake, but his eyes turn soft. She saves him from his nightmares in more ways than one, like walking-talking serotonin. He reaches for her, in a state of half-consciousness, because his nights are usually awful but the time he spends with Mikan usually isn’t. Maybe combining them is the way to sleep peacefully for a change. So he snuggles her. She starts freaking out, embarrassed, but Natsume tries to reason with her, and maybe with himself too, half-asleep as he is. No, no, it’s just for tonight, just for now. It’ll be like it never happened tomorrow, it’s fine. She can go right back to Ruka tomorrow, since she prefers him anyway, and it won’t be a big deal. He just wants this for now, just for a little bit. Just while he can.

It’s sad that Natsume always thinks of these moments with Mikan as aberrations. They’re little moments that he borrows or steals just to have them for now, thinking they’re meaningless to her, but carrying them like they’re precious to him. He doesn’t think they belong to him, or that he has the right to want anything from her. He holds her during the SA class’s RPG as a joke. He tells her he likes her hair down after fighting with her. He dances with her, knowing that she’s danced with lots of other people and it won’t matter as much to add him to the list. He kisses her after he assumes Ruka already has, just so he can have keep it in his memories. And he cuddles with her now, even though she’s freaking out, because he needs some comfort, even though it isn’t his place to be hugging her. He always has to reason himself into these situations, like he’s convincing himself that he’s allowed to do this one selfish thing, just as long as she doesn’t understand how much it means to him, just as long as it won’t mean anything to her, just as long as he can get away with it.

And because he’s borrowing, the next morning he acts as though her holding him is some kind of bother. He acts all irritated and pretends like nothing happened, because he was borrowing the moment to begin with. It wasn’t his right to take it, and she can’t know it meant something. It also could be that he genuinely can’t remember the last night that clearly. People do all sorts of crazy things in between sleep that they can’t remember. Maybe his lack of sense and restraint helped him get the courage to hug her in the first place, and now that he’s fully awake he can hardly remember. If this is the case, then he's probably scolding his sleepy self for being so ridiculous.

It's up to you to decide if he really can't remember or if he's pretending. Both are possible and neither would really surprise me tbh.

It’s possible, but knowing Natsume, it’s also possible he’s pretending like he doesn’t remember. Either way, he has to do damage control, because she absolutely cannot get the wrong right idea and think that he has affection for her.

The morning brings good news as well, because Natsume, Ruka, and Youichi are allowed to accompany Mikan and Hotaru, as long as they’re dressed as girls.

It’s all working out a bit too conveniently. This is Persona’s scheme to trap Natsume, so of course it would all work out in order that he could make his way to the dungeon. Natsume might be relieved that his plan is working, but it won’t go so smoothly once they’re actually in the Hana Hime den.

Conclusion

The most interesting scenes to analyze from Natsume's perspective are the ones where he chooses to be selfish just once in a while. They're such silly things to call selfish, but they are to him. Being sweet or affectionate to the girl you love should be second-nature, not something to deny yourself, but it's what he's trying to accustom himself to. We also see just how desperate he can be in trying to protect people important to him, like Aoi. The lengths he goes to in order to find her are impressive and show just how determined he is. Going forward, we'll only see more of this kind of determination.

My sister (Zoe) and I made three playlists for NatsuMikan, just like I'm making three essays. One playlist for Natsume's POV, one for Mikan's, and one general playlist for their relationship. I've been listening to the Natsume one while writing these and it's been a lot of fun! This is my long-winded way of plugging Love Song Requiem. Good bye.

<- Previous Next ->

[justapoet]

mary all those prompts are 👀👀👀 can i get 33 + tarlos please?

I'm so glad you like them, Jamie! Of course you can, and I truly hope you like it! ♥

33. "It hurts to breathe..."

Send me a prompt! | Prompt list

5.5k

read on Ao3

tell me your secrets (and ask me your questions)

TK had always been a curious person.

Since he was a child, he would ask questions about every single thing he saw around him. From why a window is called "window" to where we go after we're no longer beating, and it never changed throughout the years. His curiosity only grew as the answers didn't exist, and TK would always find himself making questions he would chase after answers that didn't exist.

TK would wonder why the stars shine, or why the sky is blue ― and who named it "sky" anyway? How are the same thing called in different languages, and none of them is wrong? Why does the fire burn, and how do we feel the heat? Who chose the name of the sea, and who was the first person to ever decide that fishes were edible?

His parents would say that, as a baby, he would touch everything he could and be mesmerized by anything new that would come to his sight. They would say they knew he'd be trouble once he started walking, for his hands wouldn't fear touching a single thing, and TK would only laugh at how right they were about that.

As a kid, he would ask too much until his mother ran out of patience, and Enzo had to come to the rescue, taking him to the nearest bookstore or library so he could have a source of both questions and answers. As a pre-teenager, he would ask his teachers, and some of them would be thrilled to be challenged with their knowledge, while others would just say they weren't an encyclopedia.

As a teenager, his doubts and curiosity would lead him to periodic obsessions that would keep him awake at night, or it was just something he used as an excuse to stay awake. Anyhow, it was an escape from his twisted mind and fucked up head ― so, for what's worth, his curiosity had kept him alive when the bare facts didn't want to do so.

When he became an adult, his curiosity was never left behind. His questions changed, though, and he essentially wanted to know how it felt not to feel as down as he did and how it would be if someone ever loved him the way he had always read about in books and fiction. TK would wonder why the world wasn't as bright as he used to see it and how he could just disappear, even if for a little while.

Wondering why it was something TK was better in than anyone he knew.

He never wondered why it was like that, though.

With his curiosity, TK also learned he had to be patient and observe the world around him, which led him to know people from a different angle. He would notice their movements, word choices, and how their eyes moved in each situation ― he would read into people as he would read into books, and it was pretty nice to know how to do that.

He wished he had done that better, though, when it came to Alex. But he read into himself around that time, and he knew that he was desperate for any type of love and affection ― TK wanted the love his younger self always questioned if his older self would get and didn't think twice before jumping into the change he'd have that.

It was entirely his fault; TK knew it.

And he was determined not to make the same misjudgment twice in his life ― because he feared he wouldn't have a life to get right if it happened again.

When he got to Austin, TK was still mad at the world and at himself for being so stupid and losing everything he had achieved through the years. His anger took the best of him for most times, and so did his sadness ― but it opened his eyes for a few new lenses, and he found out it was pretty cool to have more than one set of eyes to read people and situations.

Judd, under his red vision and bitter analysis, was just someone too mad at life to realize other people had feelings, too. He was hostile, had anger problems, and was a pain in the ass ― not that it was entirely wrong ―, and TK would never ever be friends with someone like that.

Under his blue vision and heartbroken analysis, though, Judd was just someone who needed some space and time to find the way back from the place he had gotten lost. He was sad, and melancholic, and seriously in need of help.

And, under the vision that didn't require lenses, Judd was a big-hearted man with a few pieces falling from his soul. He was kind, had horrible jokes, and was profoundly in love with the woman he had gotten married to ― and it was the kind of person TK desperately needed as a brother in his life.

Marjan was a badass firefighter with strong opinions and more feelings she'd let slip out of her sleeve, not to mention how sweet she could be towards those who'd allow a mask to fall without any judgment. She was strong, fearless, and should be a bit less acid to those who were only trying to help ― but she was a best friend TK had missed in his life.

Paul was a riddle, and TK suspected that was what he wanted people to think about him. He was observant ― a little too much ―, alarmed and always had good advice on the tip of his tongue, even if he'd rarely follow someone's help that didn't come from Grace or Carlos. Paul was attentive, patient, and wise ― and TK was a little scared of it but wouldn't trade a best friend like that for the world.

Mateo and Nancy seemed to get along well, for both of them had unending jokes for every situation and never won from Marjan on any of their video games. TK had no clue about how it happened, but suddenly Mateo just revealed he was a Broadway fan, and Nancy let it slip that she had watched every single Marvel movie and series so far ― and it was the end of the peace around the firehouse.

TK wouldn't trade them for anybody else, to be honest. But he would, for sure, lock Nancy in the ambulance in revenge for eating his piece of the pie Grace had baked.

And then, there was Carlos.

In the first moment, TK didn't want to read into him enough to regret his choice of not wanting something serious. It was notorious, almost like a fact known to all humanity, that Carlos had kindness hanging out from each one of his words and movements. His words were nothing but sweet, and every single one of his actions seemed to be careful and calculated.

It was surprising, really, when Carlos had invited him to dance on that first night after a shift at the Honky Tonk. He didn't touch TK at any moment, only doing it when he approached first ― and Carlos seemed to always give him a second to think and rethink if he really wanted to go all the way.

Even if it was the bare minimum of respect, it was rare to find it around.

From the beginning, TK also noticed how patient Carlos could be and how he would never pressure anyone into doing anything. He was dedicated to his friends ― since they've met, TK lost count of how many times he would stop by the firehouse to give Michelle something she mentioned he wanted to eat or offer her a ride ―, and to his job, being a damn good cop.

He was good with kids, and any call with one would get him a bit sad afterward. Even so, TK had seen him countless times sitting with them in the ambulance, telling them a story or a joke to distract them from the needles and exams. It was heartwarming for whoever would see it.

From the beginning, too, Carlos would be a mystery TK didn't really know how to begin to solve. Unlike everything TK could've predicted or expected, Carlos didn't seem to want him just for his body or pretty face ― he seemed to want to get to know him, and that was something TK really couldn't wrap his mind around.

Not only that, but he was a mystery, too, to everyone in the firehouse. Judd had known him already from a distance, his friendship with Michelle bringing him around for years, but nothing more than cordialities and the usual kindness that evaporated from the man. Grace had known him from calls, as well, and only knew that he was a good cop, a good man, and really cared about those he was trying to help.

Other than that, no one knew much. Paul could tell Carlos was someone who really respected his privacy and didn't talk much when he didn't seem comfortable or didn't have to, being quiet even when going out. He didn't drink much and was absolutely punctual, and Paul somehow knew that Carlos loved giving small gifts to people.

Marjan said that he would always listen and give full attention to what anyone was saying, and Mateo couldn't get over the fact Carlos had a Mjölnir autographed by Chris Hemsworth ― and he would never tell how he got that.

Being curious about Carlos, then, was inevitable.

Getting to read and decipher him, though, was a choice. And a choice that TK would never regret taking.

He wasn't fluent just yet, but TK would spend as much time as necessary to learn every single word Carlos had to say, imply, or erase. It was a book, a whole universe, that TK was willing to find out more about.

Turns out Carlos never touches anybody without their complete consent, but he loves to be hugged and held whenever he can. He never complains, and on hard days, he almost purrs to any skin-to-skin contact.

TK loved to know that because he loves contact just as much.

TK also found out that Carlos is quiet most of the time, not only in public, and only gets to speak a lot when he's incredibly excited over something new. He found out through some night hours when, after TK had arrived back from his shift, he had started to talk excitedly about Einstein's Theory of Relativity and everything that involves the whole thing.

He was sure he fell in love again as each minute passed.

Carlos was punctual, but finding out he got ready for every appointment about an hour earlier was surreal for TK. And Carlos loved giving gifts to people just to make their day better ― TK had cried when, after a shift from hell, Carlos offered him a single dandelion, telling him to close his eyes and make a wish.

TK had kissed him deeply before blowing the dandelion.

And out of all the details TK could've learned about Carlos, one that would always be in red letters on the back of his mind is that Carlos could be quiet not only for his comfort but for the comfort of others. And, although it had been transparent with all of the mess and pain in Carlos' eyes when they talked after the meeting on the Farmer's Market, TK had noticed it on small moments through the days.

Carlos wouldn't speak up about his feelings or open up to anybody. He would be in pain, miserable, and silent, not wanting to bother or worry anyone around him.

He had gotten so used to it through the years that TK wasn't surprised when Carlos seemed shocked that he had noticed something was up.

The thing is that TK paid attention. To Carlos more than anyone, indeed, he had learned a few details that he knew Carlos himself didn't know, like how the cop would talk to himself when he thought no one was looking. Or how his lips would tramble a little every time he was going out, or how he would bite his tongue when the concentration was taking over his worries.

There was also that permanent wrinkle on the top of his nose that would deepen whenever he was confused and even more when he was worried. His eyebrows would follow the movement when he was emotional, and he would press his lips together when he got speechless ― and TK loved to kiss it away and watch as his face melted under his touch.

TK was lucky enough to say that he knew Carlos behind all the quietness and politeness ― he knew the lows, the fears, and the clever jokes.

That's why he knew something was wrong when they were driving back home from Judd and Grace's house on a Saturday afternoon, the sun already setting on the horizon.

Carlos hadn't drunk, not a sip, and seemed to be enjoying the company, the talk even if he was quieter than usual, and the kids ― the Vega twins really had fallen in love with him after the sandstorm. Yet, the man had given TK the car keys as they were leaving the house and didn't say much before walking around the car and taking the passager's seat.

Carlos loved to drive, and TK usually only took the wheel when his boyfriend chose to drink on their night out. He didn't do questions, though, and got in the car, taking Carlos' hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

The cop smiled at him, almost thankfully, and then looked out his window.

It was a thirty-minute drive, which had never been a problem for the both of them for some reason, loved to take car rides whenever they could. Ten minutes in the vehicle, though, TK noticed that Carlos was moving quite too much, his hands gripping his pants and his leg bouncing against the floor. His brown eyes wouldn't focus, either, and he would swallow dryly more times in a minute than anyone should.

He wanted to ask if everything was okay, but Carlos beat him to it.

"Stop the car," he asked, his voice seeming to be stuck on his throat. TK frowned worriedly at him but did as he was asked, turning the wheel and parking the car on the curb and watching his boyfriend as his mind seemed to race, and he didn't know what to do.

TK didn't have to wait a second until Carlos was opening the door and walking away from the car, crossing the flower field they'd stopped beside and not looking back at TK, looking too scared to do that. His legs seemed to work automatically, and TK quickly snapped out of his worried state to realize what the hell was going on when Carlos walked towards the empty gazebo further on the field.

Carlos kept walking, his palms feeling sweaty and his feet seeming to work mechanically. He didn't stare at anything around him, his eyes were unfocused, his mouth seemed to have dried up, and he couldn't even hear anything but the thin, high-pitched whistle inside his ears.

The cop found himself walking towards a little empty gazebo, groping the air unconsciously to find the small gate and then opening it and not even bothering to close it before he placed himself against the wall, leaning almost vainly on it. He took a few deep breaths, the warm spring air entering his lungs and seeming to hurt, but he didn't really care.

Carlos closed his eyes, feeling the world and his head spin a few times. His brain could only say "too many people, too many people, too long," but Carlos couldn't utter a single word or move.

Not even when he noticed a movement next to him and could assume that someone was stooping down. He wasn't sure, and he couldn't be sure at that moment. He didn't want to think about it or anything else in the world.

It was when the person sat down next to him, also leaning their head against the wall, that he could connect the dots to the smell of perfume his boyfriend always wore. The other man didn't say anything, just bent his knees and put one of his arms over his legs, and looked straight ahead.

TK knew him well enough to figure that he hated to be seen in such a vulnerable situation.

"I..." Carlos muttered, swallowing hard and looking breathless. "A lot of people, I..." he interrupted himself, feeling the tears that hadn't been falling fill his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

His lips trembled, and he felt frustrated then. Carlos threw his head back, knowing that it would hit the wall. It was then that TK finally faced him and placed one of his hands on his boyfriend's hand that was still on the floor while the other seemed to pull at his hair.

"It hurts to breathe..." Carlos said, then sobbing. TK's grip on his hand got more solid, and Carlos wouldn't stop crying even if he wanted to ― he felt pathetic, overwhelmed, and he hated to be facing that fact about him in front of someone else.

TK inhaled deeply before saying anything.

"You're on a gazebo," the man began, his voice sweet. "There's nothing here but the two of us and a plant I don't know the name of, but you should," he said, and Carlos could hear a small smile in his voice. His hand let go of his hair, and he began to breathe slowly. "There are only the two of us here. And the stars."

Carlos took a deep breath. Once, twice, three times― just him and TK. Just him and TK. It was all right. Everything was fine.

He held his boyfriend's hand weakly, and TK made sure to squeeze it a little. He was there, just him, and everything was fine. He could breathe, there was air, and there was nobody else but him and the man he loved right beside him.

TK didn't say a word, his thumb caressing the back of Carlos' hand and his eyes analyzing each one of his breaths as he breathed just as slowly. His heart was pounding on his chest, and he had a few questions, but it was alright ― everything was fine, and they had time to talk about it.

The minutes went on like this, quietly, until Carlos, a little calmer but still with a knot in his throat, opened his eyes, swallowing hard and analyzing his surroundings warily. His brown eyes seemed alarmed, rimmed, and his breathing was still shaken.

"Allamanda," he said, then, his voice weak and hoarse. His breathing was smooth now, and TK smiled as he noticed it, even though he hadn't understood what Carlos had said until he gestured toward the flowers with his head.

TK chuckled quietly, amused that his boyfriend actually knew what the flowers were, and leaned his head against the wall again. They stood there for some time ― Carlos couldn't tell how long ― until his breathing returned to normal, and his ears were whistled low enough that he could hear around him.

"Sorry," he said, and TK turned his head, still leaning against the wall. "For this. I had no reason and― and I just..."

"Carlos," the paramedic called in a low voice, interrupting him before he could blame himself or try to explain what he wasn't ready to. "It's all right. You don't have to apologize or justify anything. It happened, that's fine," TK said, confident. Carlos swallowed hard. "It's okay, babe. I promise."

Carlos nodded but didn't seem too confident in agreeing with TK's words. TK looked at some spot in front of him again, and Carlos let his head fall until he was staring at his lap, his hand over his stretched legs and his mind racing with wild thoughts. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and threw his head back, leaning on the wall.

"I've never told anybody," Carlos said, then, all of a sudden. TK turned his head in his boyfriend's direction, bending it a bit with the piece of given information. "About this. The disorder or the crisis," he explained, and TK frowned with worry. "Not even Michelle."

TK waited, not wanting Carlos to shut down with any questions. After a minute or two, he spoke up again.

"I feel pathetic," Carlos said, a humorless chuckle leaving his closed lips. "I know I shouldn't because it's perfectly normal and everything, but..." Carlos swallowed dryly, his lips twisting in some shade of sadness. "I'm an adult. I should've left this in my teenage years, shouldn't I?"

TK didn't answer but thanked God it was a rhetorical question. He didn't quite know what to say.

He couldn't help but ask, though.

"How long you've been hiding these crises?" he asked, and Carlos chuckled humorlessly again. It caused TK's stomach to wrap.

"Since they began," he replied, and TK closed his eyes as if it was a painful truth to face. He squeezed Carlos' hand, and the other man just shrugged. "I was going to tell my father, even before I came out to them, but I heard a conversation over some documentary about mental disorders," Carlos said, and TK didn't like his tone. "I should really stop listening to what he and mom talk about. It would save me mental health," he joked, and TK bit his tongue.

Carlos wanted to cry, but he didn't think he could.

"I don't think they realized, you know? I mean, everyone makes jokes about it," Carlos said, then. "They didn't mean harm, I think. But they were laughing," he told TK, turning his head and not really looking around. "It was― eating me alive, and..." he chuckled again. "They were laughing."

TK squeezed his hand.

"So you figured that would be their reaction," TK supposed.

"Theirs and anybody's," Carlos said. "The only ones who take mental health seriously are the ones to whom it's lacking."

And TK didn't have an answer for that because there wasn't one. He could see what Carlos meant when he said that his parents meant no harm ― mental disorders were only a thing if you knew well enough to understand that sick people didn't want attention or were being dramatic; they just wanted peace.

And it was only genuine when someone that mattered hurt themselves over it, and TK knew that. He had experienced it himself, his mother being usually too skeptical to believe that someone wouldn't have control over their feelings.

Until TK had lost control over himself and his heart had lost the strength to beat for the first time.

Carlos had skepticism surrounding him when it came to taboos such as mental disorders ― and having one wasn't quite the solution to deal with it. His family didn't think it was something more than some drama or lack of control over emotions, and even the best-intended comments could hurt when they were only meant to be seen as a joke.

And TK couldn't see how it must have been to Carlos to feel like it for over a decade ― like a joke. Like who he was and the problems he had were too much, inconvenient, uncomfortable for someone he loved to deal with.

From cover to cover, Carlos had felt like a burden to his family. And although it wasn't their intention to make it like it, the fact they didn't seem to be open enough for Carlos to come to them still twisted something inside TK's soul.

"Hey?" Carlos called beside him, and TK lifted his eyes to find his boyfriend's sad face and closed eyes. "Does anybody else need to know about it?"

TK caressed his thumb over Carlos' skin.

"Not if you don't want them to," he replied. Carlos sighed.

"But?" he asked, and TK's heart swollen with how much he knew how to read him.

"It would be nice if you talked to Mitchell," TK said. "So she can have your back at work, you know?" Carlos sighed. "I know you've dealt with it all your life, babe, but someone has to have your back. Especially in our field," TK explained, and Carlos knew he was right. It didn't make things easier. "You know no one would laugh, don't you? And no one would ignore it, either," the paramedic continued, and Carlos weighted his head forward again.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Carlos said, then. "I've been prepared for the laughing and the ignoring my whole life; what do I do when it doesn't come?" he asked, and TK felt his heart clench inside his chest. "Besides, letting people know just..."

"Makes you feel a weird thing you can't really name?" TK guessed. "Something between guilt, regret, and stupidity and not the relief they've promised you?"

Carlos chucked again, and TK followed him. The cop nodded, and his lips trembled a bit.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Something like that."

A beat of silence, and then TK asked.

"Do you regret that I know it?" he said, and Carlos only closed his eyes again. There was no judgment or expectation in his boyfriend's voice, which is much more comfortable to answer.

"Honestly?" TK nodded. Carlos sighed. "Yes," he said, and TK pressed his lips together in a sad smile. "But I, uh...―" Carlos babbled. "I'm glad I can ask you for a hug now," he said, and TK widely smiled when he noticed the words. Carlos turned his head up to him, smiling expectantly, and the paramedic didn't lose a second before hugging him close to his chest.

Although Carlos was taller, TK knew he loved to be held close to someone and be involved in their arms as if he fit in them. Which, when it came to the two of them, the affirmative was nothing but correct ― Carlos fit in TK's arms seamlessly.

They stayed there for a while more, with Carlos breathing slowly against TK's neck and feeling his heartbeats and TK caressing his fingers through Carlos' curls and nape.

When they got back to the car, Carlos was almost sleeping on the passenger's seat with his head pressed to the window, and TK smiled at the cuteness of the scene and the peace on Carlos' face. He didn't say much, not to say anything, all the way back, sniffing a bit and taking some deep breaths.

TK could relate if being honest. Sharing such a personal thing, that something that should lift the weight out of your shoulders isn't as pretty as people make it seem. It's excruciating, tiring, and it feels like all the power you once had over your lack of control vanishes for a while.

It isn't exactly about being vulnerable, but about how much you can pretend something isn't real if no one else knows about it. And, when someone else does know, it feels a bunch more genuine than it was before ― even if the pain was already breathtaking.

As soon as TK parked in front of their house, he took Carlos' hand in his, squeezing it lightly to wake him from his superficial sleep. The cop opened his eyes a bit confused, breathing in deeply before looking out the window and then turning to his boyfriend, who smiled sweetly at him.

Wordlessly, the pair got out of the car and made their way to the front door, Carlos always a step behind him as they went up the stairs. TK couldn't point out if it was Carlos' habitual protectiveness towards those who he cared about or some kind of embarrassment over the things he wished he didn't mind about, but TK decided it wasn't something he shouldn't ask. Not then, at least.

They walked around their house silently, taking their shoes off before walking to the living room, where TK put his cellphone and wallet over the coffee table. Carlos seemed scared, hiding in the shadows around the corners, almost unsure of what he was doing there ― and, damn, it hurt TK to see that. Even if the paramedic knew it had nothing to do with him or the two of them, seeing the man he loved so out of place in their own house was a dagger to the heart.

TK wanted to suggest something, but Carlos seemed so stuck in his head that he wasn't sure he would be heard. So, he went to the bathroom downstairs silently, taking more time than necessary to wash his hands just so he could see if Carlos would move. When he went back to the living room, his boyfriend wasn't there anymore.

Knowing that he probably needed some space to deal with what happened and with the fact that TK knew about it all, the paramedic found a few things to do downstairs. Putting more water in a bottle to put in the fridge, wash the pair of plates and coffee mugs they've left there in the morning, answer a few texts on their group chat and some others from Grace asking if they've made a safe ride home.

He also checked all locks and windows before taking his phone and slowly climb up the stairs, turning off the lights as he went to their room. There, Carlos was still in the bathroom, and TK plugged his charger before taking off his shirt and pair of jeans.

As he laid down, he could hear the shower on and smiled a bit that Carlos had enough disposition to let himself relax around warm steam. TK sighed, sinking under the covers and closing his eyes for a second to let his thoughts settle around his head.

A second might have been longer, though, when he opened his eyes to the turned-off bedroom lights and the only light source being the semi-open bathroom door from where he could see Carlos' reflection moving a bit. His heavy eyelids wouldn't let him sit up or even move too much, but he used all the strength he had to stay awake and stare as his boyfriend left the bathroom and turned that light off, too.

His head was down as he walked to their bed, and he seemed to hesitate for a second before swallowing hard and turning his body a bit, his direction changing from his to TK's side of the bed. The paramedic waited, just to see how carefully Carlos took the blankets off his body and then moved to crawl up the bed.

The mattress deepened, and TK inhaled sharply ― which made Carlos realize he was awake but didn't stop him from doing whatever it was. TK tried to see something in the dark, but Carlos' warm hand over his naked waist caused every nerve to relax, and his eyelids fell heavy once again. He was a little more alert, though, his worried side speaking loudly.

Carlos put himself between TK's legs, his body half over his, and wrapped his arms around the paramedic's waist, sighing heavily and placing his head in the middle of TK's abdomen. Instinctively, TK's hand was in Carlos' curls, and the cop felt like he could cry just with that touch again.

"Am I hurting you?" Carlos whispered in the dark. "Do you want me to move?"

"Nah," TK grumbled. "You okay?" he asked, and Carlos just stood quiet. TK didn't pressure him into saying anything, perfectly comfortable with whatever Carlos wanted to talk about.

The cop closed his eyes for a second and then exhaled wearily against TK's stomach. He moved his legs to tangle it with TK's and the blankets, the coldness of one bringing relief to his racing nerves.

"Not quite," he said. "I'll be."

TK hugged him the best he could manage to in their position, caressing Carlos' bare skin in comfort.

"Don't rush yourself into it," TK murmured. Carlos closed his eyes, ignoring a bit of a headache on the side of his temple.

"Won't," Carlos said, and TK knew he was telling the truth.

Because Carlos was kind, sweet, loving, and the easiest person to love. He's the kind of person the paramedic tried to avoid because TK simply knew that he would fall in love with him ― it was Carlos, after all, and TK knew better than trying to fool himself with the premise he could only do casual.

TK searched for questions without answers, and Carlos had all the answers TK wanted to find the questions to. He was pretty sure he could discover why the sky is blue in the brown of Carlos' eyes. He could find out why the languages change just by kissing his lips. The reason fire would burn would be written over Carlos' skin, and the sea could be explained but never compared to how deeply Carlos felt things.

TK was curious, indeed, but he didn't mind waiting for the answers if it meant he would discover Carlos page by page, breath after breath.

Carlos, deep down, couldn't wait to be deciphered, too. And he knew things would be better and would be good if he tried to see himself through somebody else's lenses. It would take time, effort, and much more talking than he liked to think about ― but it would be alright.

Because they didn't have to wonder if they'd be alone while trying to be better.

Because they didn't have to wonder what it would be like to share some of the weight.

Because the answers weren't written, and they could always wonder what they were.

Because, for now, it didn't hurt to breathe.

[hanmajoerin]

A/N: Thank you to my good friend for sharing her dream journal entry and inspiring the feel for this one shot because every day InuYasha spent without Kagome must have been an unending dream.

Summary: There were others who loved and needed Kagome even though InuYasha was meant to be with her. He knew this, but gods, the cost of it. He thought he paid it in full by hardly fighting the Bone Eater’s Well, but now there were others who missed her too.

** Nominated for the 2021 2nd Quarterly Inuyasha Fandom Awards for Best One Shot 🥺💖

**Third Place Winner for the Best One Shot of the 2021 2nd Quarterly Inuyasha Fandom Awards. Thank you to everyone who voted for this story! I love you all ❤️ ~

II AO3 II FanFiction.Net II

Things to Keep

InuYasha lounged under the shade of one of many trees lining the river near Kaede’s village. Miroku washed his family’s night robes with Gyokuto strapped to his back while Sango burped Kin’u. It’d been over a year since the well sealed. InuYasha still thought about the surprised look on Kagome’s face when he was pulled back, but he prefered to remember her safe in her mother’s arms. It was difficult to do.

Kin’u burped and, within seconds, Sango had the newborn secured to her back again. When she kneeled by Miroku and told him she’d take over, InuYasha’s ear flicked. Despite catching their soft commentary more often, Sango’s tone was much gentler than the half-demon was used to hearing. Miroku made room for her effortlessly, choosing to help by trading clean pieces of laundry with dirty ones.

This was how they all lived now, resting by the greenery and exchanging cloth instead of sutras and oversized boomerangs. He wondered if Kagome’s days were boring like his; she always seemed frantic when he came to pick her up. Maybe she didn’t have time to think about them anymore. It would be easier for her that way.

Miroku shifted, putting InuYasha in Gyokuto’s line of vision. The newborn extended her arm out to him, and he was fascinated by the way her fingers flexed. There was more space between them now than there was last month. InuYasha had never really been around human babies before and it felt weird to compare the lethargic emptiness Kagome left in her wake to the enthusiastic growth of infants. InuYasha offered Kin’u a passing glance. He wasn’t going to tell her mother that an icicle of drool would fall onto her back soon.

The spring sun warmed people in its path and InuYasha’s legs didn’t understand the chill lingering on his torso because of it. Kin’u was gurgling now, gnawing on her fist. Miroku once told InuYasha how remarkable it was for him to tell the twins apart as quickly as he did, but the monk must’ve forgotten his nose. The girls looked the same, but their scents were unique. It was kind of like Kikyo and Kagome’s: similar but only on the first sniff.

The afternoons were getting longer again.

InuYasha opened one eye at the exact moment Sango began shaking out a small, fibrous white towel with blue polka dots. As if possessed by a demon, InuYasha was there. Standing by the river, standing before Sango. The towel never broke the water’s surface.

“What’s that?” InuYasha asked, arms folded over his chest. Sango quickly pulled the towel to her heart. The polka dots contorted in the slayer’s grasp, and her brown eyes widened with the tiniest hint of fear. It was as if she believed InuYasha’s claw tipped fingers would swipe it from her forever. As if. He wasn’t a jerk. Sango glowered at him anyway, firm. She knew what it meant for him to see this, and she wouldn’t let it go just to ease his heartache when it would worsen hers.

The two never spoke about Kagome and he didn’t want that to change. He should have wanted it to, but he didn’t. It hardly made sense, but he’d been struggling to make sense of a lot over the past year. His throat closed up when he tried talking about Kagome. The words refused to leave him.

InuYasha leaned forward, far from Sango but close enough to learn that this wasn’t the item’s first trip to the river. It still smelled like her. Bergamot and lilies and early summer mornings; half blue and half pink skies that fog never touched. “That’s Kagome’s.”

Without meaning to, he committed the thing to memory which explained why he placed it so easily. Kagome asked if he wanted to use it after him and Miroku’s run-in with the moth demon, Gatenmaru. The blood of that bastard’s human lackeys sank into InuYasha’s skin long before his humanity rose to the surface. The towel couldn’t have helped him any, and if he tried hard enough, InuYasha’d probably still catch scent of their blood like phantoms on the wind. The half-demon reached, finally accepting the school girl’s gesture, but Sango turned away. “Where’d you get that?” He asked.

“From Kagome’s bag; it wasn’t the only one in there,” Sango replied, submerging it into the river and forcing more distance between them. InuYasha’s brow twitched, but he doubted the demon slayer cared.

Brown eyes. Bergamot. Unwavering resilience. All of that flowed downstream now. He hated it.

“We–”

“Keh, it’s none of my business,” InuYasha spat, spinning on his heel. The towel was still his business. His arm felt like it was shaking even though InuYasha could clearly see it wasn’t. The plush towel sat behind his closed eyelids, opposite ends fluttering against the side of Sango’s hands as she held it in place. The polka dots grew and shrunk in a rhythm set by the rushing water. A budding mental itch grew to push Sango onto the grass so he could pluck Kagome’s towel out and run far, far away with it.

InuYasha swallowed hard, flicking an ear casually. Kin’u was there and he’d never shove Sango. If he grit his teeth, InuYasha could do it. He could continue letting the demon slayer turn what little he had left of Kagome into meaningless things to keep.

“With the birth of the twins, we felt it was necessary,” Miroku confessed as InuYasha continued walking away. If he stayed, he’d make an ass of himself.

There were others who loved and needed Kagome even though InuYasha was meant to be with her. He knew this, but gods, the cost of it. He thought he paid it in full by hardly fighting the Bone Eater’s Well, but now there were others who missed her too. Listening to Sango ring out the towel, InuYasha knew he was still paying his price. She wouldn’t miss Kagome’s scent like him, but knowing that another part of Kagome was leaving curdled his thoughts, ate at the same damn spot on his chest.

“Whatever.”

InuYasha heard Kagome calling out his name as he settled back against the trunk of a tree further from his initial spot. Like Miroku and Sango gave a shit. The sound of his name–the sound of her saying his name–lingered. Nostalgic.

The slayer handed her washed towel to Miroku, prompting an unwarranted pensive glance to be aimed in his direction. “Keh,” InuYasha huffed, turning his nose away from the monk. He turned it back in time to watch Miroku offer the towel a tender stare. Deep violet eyes looked as if stroking the fabric was a gesture that could be felt across time. If he hadn’t done the same sort of things, InuYasha would have scoffed.

Miroku placed the towel in the straw basket with everything else.

One leg breached past the leaves’ shade and a pair of amber eyes seemed to glow, overseeing a family that perpetuated the same cycle: Hand the husband something clean, one baby coos, put it in the basket, give the wife something dirty, the other baby coos, scrub.

InuYasha cupped his hands together before placing them behind his head. He closed his eyes once more, resting, picturing her running across the plush grass. Kagome waved to him and her hand practically skimmed the clouds. Her shoes never crunched down onto the ground like their friends’ straw sandals did. She was a familiar combination of green and white and black with a dash of red. She had a warmth that pierced through the arrow Kikyo used to seal him, every punch Sesshomaru landed, his own demonic blood, and now the loss of her.

An incessant jangling sprinkled like rain in his mind, wiping away at the sunlight and clouds that Kagome always reached. InuYasha blinked a few times, adjusting to this world with only Miroku, Sango, and the twins. “‘Bout time you finished,” he grumbled, standing fully in the shade.

“You know, an extra set of hands would be helpful next time,” Miroku suggested with a predictable waggle of his brows. InuYasha felt his own brows being dragged down; Kagome should’ve let the monk steal her iron cart and cycle away from them permanently back when they first met.

“No thanks.”

The days really were getting longer. The sun hadn’t budged, poised exactly where he last saw it. Sango snickered and InuYasha brushed past her, grabbing the basket of wet laundry and stomping from the grassy knoll to the main path. A stupid decision, really. The slayer’s eyes could have burnt holes through him if she’d been the right kind of demon. Even though she was a human, this type of stare would–

“Hey, InuYasha,” Sango began, and the half-demon let out an exasperated sigh. He fixed his focus to the huts ahead. Dark wood and reed mats and crackling fires.

“What?” Occasionally, a fractured piece of rock got stuck to the balls of his feet, and InuYasha was half tempted to kick one up to chuck at the trees.

“You can talk to us. You know that, right?”

“Keh.” And there it was, the block in his throat. How could he speak about Kagome like this? There wasn’t any room for the words.

“Is that all you have to say?” Sango snarled as the half-demon continued standing quietly, his expression unchanged. “Ever since the well reappeared, you’ve been acting like Kagome was never here! Don’t you miss her? Isn’t there any–”

“You don’t know a damn thing,” InuYasha ground out, closing the distance between them before the slayer could even finish. He stared down at her, but Sango met his glare relentlessly. She was the one who took Kagome’s towel without a second thought, Sango went through the bag Kagome packed right before their last battle together, and she was the person responsible for carelessly washing away the bergamot and lilies. “Kagome is safe and that’s it,” he finished and he meant it.

Sango grimaced, stomping her foot. InuYasha caught Kin’u watching them, thin brows scrunching just like her mother’s. “Oh, InuYasha, you’re absolutely insufferable!”

InuYasha placed a hand to his hip, yearning to step on a pebble. He scowled at Sango and gave the basket an extra sniff to remind himself how the scent of Kagome barely wrapped around Miroku and Sango’s. His body felt like a chattering leaf. “Did you expect me to cry or something?”

Sango sighed, walking past him and taking back her laundry. “No,” she mumbled, walking ahead of him.

Miroku stopped, clapping a hand to the half-demon’s shoulders. “Try not get too mad, she means well.”

“I know that,” InuYasha huffed, allowing the monk to step ahead. He watched the family, arms crossed over his chest, before picking up the rear. The five continued, a squeamish silence settling over them that left the twins lightly whimpering every now and again.

In a stroke of luck, InuYasha stepped on a rock. Kicking it up to his hands, he contemplated where to throw it. He tossed it in the air a few times. The silver ears atop his head swiveled, and a large grin spread across his features as he honed in on the unmistakable scent of a rabbit in the bushes. Wouldn’t hurt to spook the thing, InuYasha thought to himself, eyes on the forest. Just as he reeled his hand back, he lowered it, turning sharply to face Sango. She was pilfering through the laundry basket like a deranged woman. Ah, she finally snapped, InuYasha noted. “Isn’t there something of Kagome’s that you hold onto too!?” the slayer nearly screamed, thrusting that white and blue dotted piece of cloth like a trophy above her head.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” the half-demon retorted, tucking the rock in his robe. His hand glided past a smooth surface, something foreign to his clothes but close to him nonetheless. His fingers grasped at its binding. Miroku chuckled, much to InuYasha and Sango’s dismay. “What’s so funny, Bozo?”

“It’s just that there is a piece of Lady Kagome that you could never be rid of.” The half-demon squinted, his steeped ire pacified but not peacefully. Miroku inhaled theatrically, placing one hand on his hip and pointing his shakujo in an accusatory manner. InuYasha stepped back, eyes widening. Miroku leaned forward, revealing Gyokuto’s black hair from over his shoulder. “InuYasha, sit!”

“Ah!” InuYasha was instantly squashing his ears at the command, waiting to be slammed into the dirt. He never fell. A shiver sprinted up and down his spine all while Miroku laughed hysterically at his expense. The monk was doubled over, hands holding tightly to his dumb knees. “You bastard!” InuYasha roared, his fist already in the perfect position to whack some sense into that cheap excuse of a holy man. But then two big, brown eyes and cheeks that were way too round filled his vision and InuYasha stopped. Stupid monk with his stupid children and his stupid wife.

InuYasha was grumbling, sounds not forming words; thoughts running into dead ends. And then those thoughts were drowned out, consumed by the sound of his pulse, and InuYasha decided to share it. “I keep this!” He closed his eyes and held out a yellow book that read High School Mathematics: Quick Solutions to All Problems.

“Oh, so you did steal something of Lady Kagome’s,” Miroku responded, walking up to inspect the item.

“Uh, yeah. Wait, I didn’t steal it from her bag, I borrowed it from her house way before we met you lot.”

“Is that one of her school things?” Sango inquired, already mere centimeters from InuYasha. He didn’t remember her being that fast.

InuYasha shrugged. “Dunno, Myoga thought it had spells in it.”

“And you never gave it back?” Miroku asked, a whimsical smirk settling into place. InuYasha wanted to gag. “That would make it a stolen good.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s it to you?”

Miroku took the book from InuYasha, flipping through its pages. Some of them turned in chunks, demon guts and rainy weather having seeped through his robe at some point or another. “It’s weathered; surely Lady Kagome wouldn’t treat her belongings this way.”

“Hey, give that back!” InuYasha objected, attempting to swipe it. Miroku swerved, continuing to review the material like he knew exactly how it read. “I just forgot about it is all.” He was lying.

“I hope it wasn’t important. You know how upset Kagome gets about school,” Sango commented, her shoulders bouncing Kin’u lightly.

“She never said nothing to me about it,” InuYasha brushed off with a shrug, an odd pining for Kagome’s shrill nagging manifesting itself as plain as day. Miroku showed the book to Gyokuto, and she lifted a chubby arm out, her moist palm slamming onto one of the pages. “H-hey! Don’t let your kid touch that, it’s mine!”

Miroku ignored InuYasha completely, a warm expression gracing his features as he let his daughter continue her smacking. “Gyokuto, one day Papa will teach you how to read and maybe you’ll understand this.”

“Good luck, even I can’t make heads or tails of it,” InuYasha said, reaching out and successfully getting it back. The abrupt motion must have surprised Gyokuto because she began crying, and it didn’t take long for Kin’u to join in, and InuYasha let out another groan. This was all too much.

“Aw, I’m sorry, girls. Did the big dog startle you?”

“Whatever, let’s go,” InuYasha grunted, stomping ahead of the family once more.

The red of his robe leaked through to his vision and singed his cheeks. This conversation should never have happened; he shouldn’t have acknowledged that towel and he shouldn’t have gotten so worked up over the sit.

“InuYasha, slow down!” He ignored the request, feeling as if steam shot from his nostrils. He had half a mind to make a break for it, already far past his limit. “Come on,” Miroku all but pleaded.

“What!? What is it that you want now?” The half-demon barked, shoving Kagome’s book back into his robes.

InuYasha couldn’t explain why he’d waited for the two. Miroku’s expression was squared into a place that InuYasha wanted to keep his distance from. It looked like he was about to spout shit straight from the Buddha. “My friend, please understand.”

“Understand what, exactly?”

Piercing deep indigo clashed against flurrying amber.

“That we inhale and must consequently exhale, never experiencing the same breath twice. This is also true for those we meet on our path to enlightenment. They too must leave without returning, but the life they’ve given us can be appreciated long after we’ve breathed anew.” A single bushy brow rose at the analogy. Miroku cleared his throat, continuing, “Lady Kagome may be in her world, but she has managed to keep a part of herself here nonetheless. Through towels or books, my friend, she is with us and we should value that.” He patted InuYasha, right where Kagome’s book lay underneath layers of fire rat.

-X-

• “i know better, but I still feel you all around. i know better, but you’re still around.” -taylor swift, “marjorie” •