#my sister just appeared for the sake of hearing me complain

[citrusitonit]

I had a dream I was adventuring in twisted wonderland and then while we were eating out in the forest with rook, riddle, my sister and (i forgot them) a smoke came and got us all high and i was so mad because the smoke was from Cheshire cat and that means i had to change my ocs special magic because it was identical to theirs so the whole time i was just yelling at high people and staring at riddles super big irises as the cheshire cat's giving him the highest smoke dose out of all of us he was literally spoon feeding riddle the fuckign bong

[nottamoxxie]

Push chapter 2: Soon you'll get better.

Summary:

Title from Taylor Swifts: "Soon you'll get better."

TW: Panic/Anxiety attacks, child slavory,

more at the end to avoid spoilers. Nothing too major, but if you need family or medical related TW, read the end note first. It's right below the story.

"I know delusion when I see it in the mirror

You like the nicer nurses, you make the best of a bad deal

I just pretend it isn't real

I'll paint the kitchen neon, I'll brighten up the sky

I know I'll never get it, there's not a day that I won't try

And I'll say to you

Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better

Ooh-ah, soon you'll get better

Ooh-ah, you'll get better soon

'Cause you have to." -Taylor swift, Soon you'll get better.

{IMP, present: }

Blitzø got back to IMP after what felt like forever! Fuckin shit does Stolas love to draw things out.

“Where the hell have you been?” Blitzø heard immediately as he sat down. "We're supposed to be visiting mom in an hour, I almost left without you."

“Relax, Barb. I didn't forget.” Blitzø sighs, can’t just get a second of quiet for fucks sake. “I just had some business to tend to.” 

“Business? What kind of business?” She asks suspiciously. "What did you do?" 

Blitzø sighs. “Look, it's not a big deal…I was taken by Stolas’s guards and I had to smooth things over with him. Okay? It's not that big of a deal."

“Fucking damn it, Blitzø.” Barb says. “Again? You’re an assassin for Satan's sake! You’re supposed to be invisible!”

“Christ on a stick! I am NOT a fucking ninja!” Blitzø argues.

“Uhm. Who’s Stolas?” Loona asks, appearing in the room with Millie.

“Ooo! Is he your boooooyfriend?” Millie teases.

“He’s…no one. Okay? How about that?” Blitzø asks. “Why don’t you three mind your own business for once? I don’t pry into your stupid personal lives!”

Barbie rolls her eyes. "You do that all the time!"

“You totally do that!” Loona says.

"Come on, you kinda do that." Millie says.

Barbie grabs Blitzø's arms and grips them tightly to look at her. “Blitzø, you cannot get involved with that spoiled prince again! You know how you get around him!” She says.

“Prince?” Millie asks. “You dated a prince?!" Millie asks. 

"How is that even possible?" Loona asks.

"Okay- why is that so shocking?" Blitzø asks.

"He's a prince…" Loona says. 

"It's you." Millie says. 

"How the hell did you manage to date a fucking prince? Who is this guy?" Loona asks.

"It doesn't matter because we're not together anymore, okay?" Blitzø asks. "I wouldn't exactly call what we did dating." Blitzø mumbles.

"Just-“ Barb pulled Blitzø to look at her again. “Please tell me you didn't fuck him." 

“Ooooooo~” Millie teases again.

“Gross!” Loona complained. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life!”

"Then don’t ask me about it.” Blitzø says.

“Blitzø!” Barb shouts. 

"I didn't fuck him!" Blitzø says."We only talked. He agreed to let us use the book for work. Isn’t that great?” He asks, forcing some enthusiasm, knowing his sister well, and knowing she’s not gonna like what she’s hearing.

"And why the fuck would he do that?" Barbie asks.

"I don't know…maybe he felt bad for how things ended between us?" Blitzø suggested. 

"It's Stolas." Barbie says. "He doesn't care about anyone except himself." She says.

"He's not a monster, Barb. Just a stupid prince with his head screwed on wrong." Blitzø explains.

"Give the book back, I don't want you associating with him!" Barb says.

"I'm not going to do that, Barb. Because A, you’re not my mother, and B-" Blitzø moves Barb further away to whisper. “We’re kinda desperate in case you forgot.”

Barb crossed her arms.

“I know this sucks, but it’s nothing. I’m over him.” Blitzø says. "I promise."

His sister sighs heavily. “I know, but- it’s…it's Stolas.” Barb says.

“I know…” Blitzø says. "But, imagine what good it could do." He says. "We can help mom, we can build this place from the bottom right to the top. We have people to take care of."

“You’ll catch feelings and get yourself hurt. Just like you always do! I don’t want to see you…like that again.” She argues.

“I’ll be careful! I know it's hard but…it’s Stolas. He’s never been that serious about me….I know that now.” Blitzø says.

Barb pinches the center of her face. “Okay…I’ll trust you against my better judgment. But only because we don’t have a lot of options.” She says, taking the book from him.

Blitzø nods, he knows better… Stolas only ever saw him as a servant to do whatever he wants to…

They were never really friends…

He only wished he had realized that sooner…

{Past: Blitzo}

Stolas made good on his promise, he made a deal with Paimon. Instead of letting Blitzo rot in prison, he agreed to let the Imp work off his debt.

But, knowing everything he took, Blitzo knew to pay even a fraction of what he stole would take a million years! Imps don't get paid enough to actually pay them back.

He supposed it was better than prison though, because he at least had a friend.

But, he still had hope that his family would save him! They just didn't want to make the deal, but surely they didn't forget about Blitzo.

But, then the weeks passed.

Then months.

Blitzo learned the trade from the other servants, he was now to be Stolas’s personal slave.

Making his breakfast, cleaning his room, dusting his books, helping him get dressed.

It wasn't the worst life…but it was less than ideal.

How was he supposed to be a good performer if he can never practice? He's way too busy helping Stolas.

"Blitzo!"

"Ahh!" Blitzo dropped the tray he was holding, breaking the plates and cup that was on the tray. This is surprisingly not uncommon in the Goicia household, at parties they'd throw their glasses around like they were disposable. Blitzo had one plate at home. If he broke it…he'd just have two very small yet sharp ones. They couldn't afford to replace crockery like that.

"Oh, sorry." Stolas says, helping him pick up the broken plate and cup pieces.

Blitzø sighs. "It's fine, I got it." He says. They could get in trouble if Stolas was caught helping "What do you need?" Blitzo asks.

"I was hoping you would help me practice magic, it’s so much more fun with you there.” Stolas says.

Blitzo liked practicing with Stolas, but he had so much to do, he'd rather get it done so he didn't have to stay up so late… but he literally can't say no to Stolas, they'd probably whip him or something. “Yeah, okay.” Blitzo says. "I'll meet you out there after I get this cleaned up."

Stolas smiles. "Alright, can I help?"

"Better not, your dad or someone could see. No offense, but most of your staff are huge narks."

Stolas nods. "Oh right. I'll be outside then!" Stolas skips away.

Blitzo finished cleaning up the tray and then met Stolas outside to help him.

{Later:}

It was hours later when Stolas was satisfied with his progress. He usually spends an hour or two every day. Today, it was four hours of non-stop memorizing and casting spells.

Once Stolas felt like he had enough, him and Blitzo just laid down on the grass to look at the sky.

Technically Blitzo should have just went back to work, but he probably wouldn't be in trouble since Stolas asked him to stay for a bit.

"You sure take this magic thingy seriously." Blitzo says to him.

"Well, father says it's very important, I want to make him proud." He explains.

"Your dad doesn't seem to be around much, is that like, normal for you?" Blitzo asks

Stolas shrugs. "Well…he is very busy." He says. "Is your father around a lot."

"Kinda, he likes Fizz more though." Blitzo says. "He thinks Fizz is so much better, but I'm gonna show him someday how great a clown I really am!"

"Is Fizzarolli your brother?" Stolas asks.

"No, we're friends. I don't have any brothers, just a sister." He says.

"Well, I think you're a great clown, Blitzo." Stolas says. "You made me laugh way more than Fizzarolli did."

Blitzo smiles. "Really?"

"Absolutely." Stolas says. "Surley the rest of your family knows that. What about your mum?" He asks.

"Mom says I need to practice. But she also said Fizz, me, and Barbie are all different and we should all focus on running our own race, whatever that means."

Stolas was going to say something, but noticed Blitzo holding his arms in his hands. "What's wrong, Blitzo?"

"I miss her." He says. "I miss all of them."

"I know." Stolas says. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

"It wasn't your fault." Blitzo says. "I just wasn't sneaky enough…I need to work on that."

Stolas chuckles softly. "It will be okay, Blitzo. I'm sure they'll be back with the treasures, they probably just traded some of it and they're trying to get it back." He says.

"Yeah…maybe." Blitzo says. "I should probably get back, or Mr. Butler will get upset."

Stolas nods. "Alright, thanks for the help, Blitzo."

Blitzo nods. Once he was away from Stolas, he wiped away a quick tear and got back to work.

{Present: Blitzø}

Barb and Blitzø headed to the sloth ring, St. An's Assistant living facility.

It's the best place they could send her to where she'll actually be taken care of, but bills have been piling up like crazy.

It'll be worth it once they're able to offer her a good therapist to work with.

She has nurses and friends here, which is great, but they want her to actually heal from this, and these people can only do so much.

"Hey, mom. How's it going?" Barbie asks, greeting their mother.

Tilla looks up at Barbie and smiles, she gets up from where she was sitting and hugs her daughter tightly. "Barbie, hi sweetheart. What took you so long? I've been waiting ages."

"I know, we're a little late." Barbie says. "How are you doing? You feeling alright?"

"Never better, dear. Nurse Karen's still a bit of a sour puss, but I won't let her slow me down.' She says.

"Hey, that's great, Mom." Barbie says. "Hey, look who's here." She says.

Blitzø swallowed hard. "Hey, Mom." He says, waving a hand at her slowly.

Tilla looks him over, confused. "Cash?"

"No, ma. It's Blitzo. You remember him, right?" Barbie asked.

Blitzø stepped closer despite the intense anxiety he was feeling, he held his arms tightly. He doesn’t know of he can do this.

Tilla starts breathing heavily, something horrible snapped within her. "Blitzo? Where is he?" Tilla asks. "Where is he?" She asks.

"I'm here, mom. I'm right here." Blitzø says. "See? Everything's gonna be okay."

Tilla didn't acknowledge what he said, instead she started panicking, looking around the hospital calling out for her lost son: "Blitzo! Nonono, I have to find him!" She says as nurses gently restrain her.

The nurses try to calm her down, but Tilla is still shouting: "Where's Blitzo? Where is he? I have to find him! I have to-"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Blitzø says.

"It's alright, but I need you both to leave." Nurse Charlotte says.

Blitzø walks backwards until he is brave enough to turn away and leave.

"Blitzø!" Barbie called out.

"Ma'am, you need to leave now." Nurse Karen says. She turns back to Tilla. "It's alright, Tilla. He's okay."

Barbie looks at her mom, seeing her cry and shout like that…it was unreal. No matter how much they try, it never gets any better.

Things look so blurry as she turns to leave, her head feels so cold, so dark. It wasn't real…

She found Blitzø right outside the building. "Blitzø? You okay?" Barbie asks.

"It never gets any easier." He says, drying his tears quickly.

"I know." Barbie says. "But, we gotta keep trying."

Blitzø shakes his head."No, I can't keep doing this, I only upset her." Blitzø says.

"Blitzø-"

"I can't keep seeing her like that, I can't!" Blitzø shouts.

"I know it's hard, but you're not alone."She says.

"We have work to do tomorrow." Blitzø says. "We should go home."

Barbie sighs, but agrees with him.

She still had hope that Tilla would be okay. ..

She has to be…

"This won't go back to normal, if it ever was

It's been years of hoping, and I keep saying it because

'Cause I have to." -Soon you'll get better, Taylor swift.

NOTES:

TW: Sick mother not being able to recognize her son, nursing home

Note: Bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you liked it anyway. (I swear it'll get more interesting as it goes on.)

The IMP gang seem to have some troubles right now. But at least they have each other, Blitzø, Loona, Millie, Barbie...

We aren't missing anyone, are we?

Tags: @susstardust

[weddingdisco]

Swollen Feet — Trent Alexander-Arnold

Summary: In which Y/n and Trent went shopping for maternity clothes when her old clothes wouldn’t fit her anymore. Some paps took pictures of them and the next thing she knew, the news of her pregnancy was all over the internet.

Author’s Note: i've posted this before on my former blog (theprettyvisitors) that i deleted just a day ago. i have a few wips that I have yet to finish, so i think i'd just repost this first whilst getting some motivation to finish them. hope i can get them out asap.

Warning: ENGLISH ISN’T MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Word Count: 2,4k

MASTERLIST

One of her hands went to cradle her bulging stomach; she was 21 weeks along. Trent could sense her nervousness as they stepped into the building. This was the first time they really went out together since they found out she was pregnant. She had it hard. The realisation that she was going to be a mum had struck her like a lightning in the middle of the day, the morning sickness that prevented her from doing the things she had loved to do before, the changes on her body when she looked in the mirror, especially the feeling she had when she tried to put on her favourite dress but it wouldn’t fit her anymore; she felt awful. Though Trent had told her everyday that she was still the most beautiful woman in his eyes and that the product of their love was the one that made her body change shape, it never really helped.

Y/n got irritated easily. She would often snap at him at the smallest and the most ridiculous things at day and then she would sneak into the bathroom in the middle of the night, hands covering her mouth so that he couldn’t hear her as she sobbed on the bathroom floor. And that only made her feel worse than before, she had experienced it firsthand when her sister-in-law got pregnant and how miserable her brother was. She could only imagine how difficult it was for Trent. Pregnancy was really hard for everyone.

“Hey!” Trent shook her shoulder softly, snapping her out of her little bubble. Y/n tilted her head and smiled at him.

“Where to go first?” He asked.

“Mmm, I’m thinking of getting some bras. My tits are getting bigger-” Her hands went to cup her breasts and a grimace appeared on her face. “and not to mention how bloody sore they are.”

“How do you know this place, by the way?”

“That’s shocking, that,” He faked a gasp. “I bought you lingeries, like a lot!”

“Ah, yes, most of them were torn apart and ended up in the bin. Poor lingeries.” She chuckled, dragging him into the store by the hand.

“Welcome! Would you like some assistance?”

“Please.”

“I’m guessing you’re looking for some maternity clothes?”

“Yeah, need some new ones. As you can see,” Y/n stated, showing her covered bump as she stroked it over his hoodie that she wore, reminding her why she went to the store in the first place. “this baby’s making me fat.” Trent chuckled. It was not uncommon to hear her complain about her body. As long as it was harmless, he’d let that slide.

The seemingly older woman sighed, acknowledging her concern as she urged the couple to the maternity section. “I feel you, girl. Nearly went mad seeing my body. Not even 20 weeks along when I was that big!”

“No way! How bigger can I be? I’m only 21 weeks for fuc- sorry, for god’s sake!” She grinned at the man on her side. He had made her promise him to swear less now that she was carrying a baby.

“Way bigger than that if you’re having twins, I can assure you.”

Y/n cocked her head at Trent, jabbing his stomach with her elbow when she saw his smug face. He indeed liked the idea of having twins.

“Oh you haven’t got an ultrasound?” The woman asked.

Y/n shook her head. “Apart from the first one to make sure that I’m really pregnant? Nah.”

“It’s today, actually,” Trent chimed in and y/n nodded in agreement as they began to look for her necessity.

Trent and y/n spent almost an hour in the store, flicking through loads of bras and dresses as well as getting advice from the older woman. The possibility of having twins scared her even more.

“There were no real differences between being pregnant with one kid or twins. Just the size of your belly. Well, at least for me,”

“What about the labour?”

“Oh, I’m gonna spare you with that one, girl. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Any advice for the expecting father?” Trent asked curiously whilst handing the woman his card.

“Just be patient and be there for her as much as you can. Nothing feels better than having an understanding partner who gives moral support.” She smiled, handing him back the card.

“Thank you for your purchase! I hope everything goes well!”

She glanced over the woman’s name tag and grinned as she took the shopping bag and passed it on to her boyfriend. “Thanks, Kath!”

“Where to next, missus?”

“Can we get some ice cream and sit down for a while? I’m really tired and I feel like my feet are swelling,” she kept walking as she looked down at her feet. “Ah look, of course they are!” She huffed, pointing them out. “I’m not having another baby!”

“But what about our football team?” He pouted.

“Unless you’re the one carrying them, one is enough.”

“Or two.”

Trent knew she wasn’t being serious, or at least he’d like to think so. She sat down on a bench, saving a spot for him with the shopping bag whilst he went to get the ice cream. When he came back, he saw her on the phone giggling over whatever it was. She didn’t even acknowledge his presence until he stood before her and startled her. “What are you laughin’ at?”

“My brother sent me a video of Rosy trying to roll over,” She chuckled, taking the shopping bag from the bench and putting it down on the floor. “Look!” She handed him her phone whilst also taking the ice cream from his hand, leaning into his side so she could watch the video again, mouthing a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and feeding him in between.

Trent’s eyes were fixated on the 6 months old baby who was lying on her back, trying so hard to turn to her side to roll over her tummy but failing miserably over and over again. Rosy stopped her attempts when she heard her mother’s voice, cooing at her adoringly. ‘C’mon little Rosy,’ Then Y/n saw her sister-in-law’s hand coming into view, patting the baby’s side, trying to help her roll over.

Warmth spreading through her body when she glanced up at her boyfriend and saw him grinning from ear to ear, his eyes were twinkling with amusement and adoration. There was no doubt that he loved his little niece -well, her little niece. Meh, it doesn’t matter. He loved her regardless and he would, without a doubt, love their own baby even more. She couldn’t think of a better man to be the father of her children.

His chortle brought her into reality and she couldn’t help but to tag along.

“My god! A cute little thing, isn’t she?” He asked. He put her phone into the bag and she moved her head up and down.

“Do you know why she still can’t roll over?” She asked, feeding him another spoonful of ice cream.

He shrugged.

“She’s fat. I think she knows that herself. That’s why she giggled when she couldn’t do it for the hundredth time.”

“Sounds just like her aunt- a- ah!” He hissed when she pinched his side. “Why’d you do that?”

“I was not fat!” She complained, emphasising on each word before a sudden movement made her shriek. “Trent, what are you doing?! You're not proposing, are you?”

A chuckle left Trent's lips as he kneeled in front of her, lifting her left foot and taking off her shoe. “Your baby pictures are the proof!” He argued. The sight of his girlfriend with melted ice cream dripping down her chin nearly set him laughing on the floor, but one glare from her was enough to silence him. His hands were rummaging inside the bag before grabbing the tissue and wiping the mess off her chin.

“Laugh, Trent! I dare you!” Her eyes were throwing daggers at him.

“Am not laughing.”

“‘Cause if you do, I’ll make sure it’s your last time.”

“You’re a little scary sometimes. You know that?” He teased, his hands began to work wonders on her foot.. “Brilliant, but scary.”

The Harry Potter reference had got her. She smacked his shoulder playfully. “You did not just quote Ron Weasly!”

Y/n fidgeted uncomfortably on her seat when she saw some paparazzis began snapping photos of them. She could see people had also begun pulling out their phones to her and Trent, but she wouldn’t let them ruin her day.

Trent also sensed how uneasy she started to become and he tried to pull her attention to something else. “How are your feet feeling?”

She brought the spoon to his mouth and chuckled as she wiped a spot on the corner of his lips with her thumb and then sucked it off. “Much better now. Thank you!”

“No need to thank me. It’s nothing compared to you, you know? You’ve been carrying our babies-”

“Babies? Do you really buy what that lady said?”

“Dunno,” He shrugged his shoulders as dropped her foot carefully and lifted the other one; massaging her right foot. “Just feel it. Call it a father’s instinct.”

Her eyebrows rose up; she was amused. “As you wish, daddy.” This time it was her who was smirking. A squeal escaped her lips when she felt his fingers were tickling her foot.

“But really baby, thank you. We’re so lucky to have you,” Y/n sniffed, tears pricking her eyes and threatening to fall down. “Ah, damn hormones!”

“I’m done, Trent.“

“Shall we get going now? I know you’re not really fond of the paps,”

“Not fond? Ugh! I despise them!”

“What in the world?!” Y/n half shouted. Her phone was running very slow; it was flooded with notifications from literally everyone.

“Everything okay?” He asked, scooting closer to her on the bed.

“Apart from my freezing phone screen, yeah, everything’s under control-” a string of curses escaped her lips. “oh no, actually not.” She grumbled, shoving her phone to his lap and rested her back on the headboard.

There were a bunch of messages from her parents, asking if she was okay when they found out that the news had broken out from third parties. A handful texts and missed calls from friends who were curious as to why she had to keep her pregnancy hidden. The amount of her instagram notifications made him sigh in defeat; everyone was spamming her DM, tagging her on endless photos, etc. And the news was full of them, numerous websites where the paps had sold their pictures, mostly.

Liverpool’s right-back, Alexander-Arnold and seemingly pregnant girlfriend, Y/n Y/l/n were spotted outside for the first time. - Mirror UK

Trent Alexander-Arnold and his girlfriend with a not-so-subtle baby bump were seen at the shopping centre. We wonder what’s in the bag. Baby clothes, perhaps? - The Sun

The rarely seen couple was spotted in public and he went down on one knee! Has he popped the question? - Dailymail UK

The most adorable couple in the beginning of 2022! Trent Alexander-Arnold and Y/n Y/l/n were sharing a laugh over an ice cream! - Liverpoolecho

“Might as well post them ourselves.“ He suggested.

"Fine. My phone, please?” She took the phone from his hand and thanked him as she pecked his plump lips.

They decided to post the one where Trent was seen kneeling down in front of her, massaging her foot whilst she fed him the ice cream as they laughed along at the jokes they shared before.

Liked by johnstonesofficial and 751,186 others

trentarnold66✔ Never settle for less, ladies.

39,638 comments

yourusername✔ It’s just a publicity stunt...

↪trentarnold66✔ shhh, it’s good for the engagement!

andyrobertson94✔ I raised you right, brother! 🤗

↪trentarnold66✔ me mum did! Don’t take the credit!

jhenderson✔ The future of England!

↪trentarnold66✔ might be the future skipper of England as well. We shall see 👀

takumi18minamino_official✔ うわ～！

↪trentarnold66✔ brb, gonna ask me missus what that means lol

-

Liked by billygilmourrr and 652,880 others

yourusername✔ A great lover and no doubt, a great father (soon-to-be) ❤️

21,649 comments

trentarnold66✔ couldn’t ask for a better mum for my kids. Love you loads ❤️❤️❤️

↪yourusername✔ we love you too <3

perrieedwards✔ still in the oven, but finally out in the open!

↪yourusername✔ want a bun or two??? XD

andyrobertson94✔ the godfather is here!

↪ yourusername✔ the possibility is out of the window

takumi18minamino_official✔ かわいいですね！(so cute!)

↪yourusername✔ ありがとう、 拓実さん！^^ (Thanks,Takumi!)

“Mindy from our social media teams has asked me if she could post the pic on the story,” Trent asked. One hand holding the phone as the other reaching her thigh, making small circles with his fingers in an attempt to soothe her.

“Oh, thank god there are still decent people on earth. Let her.” She groaned, catching his attention by tugging the hem of his shirt; silently pleading him to lay back beside her, which he complied. She immediately snuggled him close, using his hand as her pillow. “Tell your boss she deserves a raise!” She murmured into his ear as he typed away on his phone before putting it down beside him. “Done.”

“What a day, huh?” He peeked down at her. His unoccupied hand went to stroke her bump, making her feel drowsy than she already was.

“Tell me about it!”

“Look!” Y/n tilted her head upwards slightly, trying to comprehend what Trent had just asked her to look. A phone screen! She felt her head was going to explode. There she saw the story Mindy had just posted on Liverpool FC's official account just three minutes ago. Her lips tugging upwards seeing the caption.

- Get yourself a man who treats you the way the Scousers in our team treats his missus! @trentarnold66 & @y/n ❤️❤️❤️-

“What about the gender?” Trent asked, putting his phone away and carefully holding her closer.

She yawned, her eyes were already closed. “Let that be our little secret.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Waking Comfort (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence (in a flashback), implied/referenced trauma (unspecified) Warnings: N/A Summary: Unable to sleep on a cold day, Bela Dimitrescu tries to find comfort in her favorite servant... only to end up being the one doing the comforting. Notes: This is super self indulgent, because my dreams have been murdering me recently. Reader is a selective mute/partially nonverbal, implied neurodivergent (unspecified), gender neutral but written with a non-binary person in mind, with non-specific past trauma. Basically this is somewhat of a self-insert fic but I've smudged some lines to make it more relatable for other people.

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

In the early hours of the day, when the sun had yet to reach its peak, a cold quiet fell over Castle Dimitrescu. Most inhabitants were of a nocturnal persuasion, and lay sleeping soundly at this hour. Those few that thrived in the sun moved softly, with caution, daring not to awaken their masters. Oh, if only they knew that one Lady of the house was awake, prowling the corridors with marked intent. What a chill it would send down their spines- what lovely fear would permeate the household.

Ah, but that was not what Bela Dimitrescu desired, at least not for now. No, what she needed was something she would never admit out loud. It was a “base” need, one that all humans felt, and so she feared that it was beneath her. There was only one person that she could trust for this: A servant, experienced in all matters needed of them, level-headed, compassionate… and, most importantly, selectively mute.

Over the past year, Bela had found herself growing closer to you, much to her own surprise. The two of you had started to bond through reading, after you had helped her reorganize a mess in the library (left by none other than Lady Daniela). Since then, you had proven to be a valuable ally, always finding creative solutions to the family’s problems. From jury-rigging a set of climbing gear for repairs, to proof-reading all formal letters, there was hardly any part of Bela’s life that you hadn’t assisted with. All while only ever saying two or three sentences- short ones, at that.

Neither of you would ever forget the first (and only) time you spoke out loud. A would-be hunter had infiltrated the estate, through a damaged skylight (which you later repaired), intending to prove his worth by killing the nobility inside. By the time Bela arrived, after being notified by a terrified maiden, she found the situation had already been aptly handled. There you had stood, clutching an ornate, bloodied cane like a club. In front of you had been the unconscious hunter.

“You could have been hurt!” Bela had snapped, unable to stop herself, glad that her sisters hadn’t arrived yet. Then you had glanced at the man, then her, then back to the man. Something uncharacteristically dark had danced in your eyes.

“He said he was going to save me… from you. Called me defenseless,” you had snarled, poking the man with your cane as you did. “Rude.” Before Bela even had a chance to react, her sisters had appeared, disappointed to find the fight already over. They had fought over who would get to kill the hunter, and somewhere in that chaos you had slipped away without another word.

That day had replayed itself in Bela’s mind hundreds of times in her mind. Though she would not readily admit it, that had been the day that her casual affection for you had started to turn into something more serious. These days she didn’t even know how to describe your relationship- after all, you had never told her how you felt. But you had held her, closely, fingers running through her hair while she fought off memories from someone else’s life. Held her in your arms, as she held you, staving off the cold like it was all you had ever known.

This was what she wanted. Your touch, your comfort. All that stood in her way was a familiar question: Where were you? Master of your environment, schedule constantly in flux, you were rarely where anyone expected you to be, especially when you were prone to taking on whatever tasks others hadn’t had time to finish. So Bela searches, quickly, around places the day-shift tends to gather. She’s careful not to be seen, even though she knows the maidens aren’t likely to gossip where her family might hear. In the end she catches a hint of your scent near the servants’ quarters, and curses herself for not checking there sooner.

Your room is one of the only single-occupancy rooms in this wing. Only senior staff were allowed within these places, most of them rotating out as they “lost their usefulness”. The fact that you had slept in the same bed every night for six months was a testament to your skill. It’s the kind of thought that brings Bela some semblance of warmth in her chest. Still, the thought alone is not enough, so she slowly eases your door open.

Her ears strain against the silence, listening for the pattern of your breathing, or the telltale murmurs that would announce your awakening. Instead, the first things she hears are little gasps, then the shifting of fabric. Dreams of some sort have you turning and tossing, lungs getting hungry in their pursuit of air. It’s not immediately clear whether or not you are enjoying the dream. Were these good gasps, like those that Daniela often cooed about when she praised her maiden? Or were these the same kind that sometimes haunted Bela herself?...

A whimper cuts through the air, and suddenly Bela loses all patience. Practically running, she crosses the room in an instant, concern etched into her brow. One hand cautiously reaches for your blanket, pulling it back enough for her to slide in next to you. It’s a risk, one that could make you wake up with a panic, but it’s one she’s willing to take. After all, she had asked you about this sort of thing before. Though you couldn’t form full sentences, you had experience “miming” things, and Bela was quite clever with her “yes or no” questions.

When she carefully wraps an arm around your waist, she does so with confidence. Beneath her touch you stiffen, back going as tense as possible, but you stop shaking. A few more gasps leave you, and Bela wonders whether or not she should wake you up. Less than a minute later the decision is made for her. All the sudden your gasping turns to a sharp exclamation, body jerking hard, eyes snapping open. Tension coils through your muscles, driving your already overstimulated brain overboard.

Before Bela can even try to comfort you, you sit up, quickly turning so your legs dangle off the edge of the bed. Muffled sobs pass your lips as you hold your face in your hands. Memories struggle against each other behind your eyes, blocking out every other sensation. Your jaw is clenched, hard, and you struggle to breathe between shakes. A hand touches your back, but quickly moves when you flinch in response. It takes a minute for you to even process who else is with you. Once you do, some of the tension bleeds from your body.

“If you’d rather be alone right now, I understand,” Bela says, quietly, as soon as she thinks you’ll be able to understand her. For a moment you can’t bring yourself to respond, and you can feel her side of the mattress shifting, like she’s getting ready to leave. Panic springs up in your chest again, so you quickly reach a hand out in her direction. Thankfully she knows what to expect at this point, easily finding your hand in the dark, gently taking it within her own. “One squeeze for yes, two for no?”

You squeeze, once.

“Do you want me to hold you?” Bela asks, trying to hide the hopefulness in her voice. It makes you pause, considering, even though you’re still overwhelmed by your sensory inputs. In the end you squeeze her hand twice. “No worries, my dear. Don’t be tempted to push yourself just for my sake.” Somehow she always knew how to read you like an open book. Even with the… difficulty of communicating with you. Not that she had ever complained, or even thought about it. Knowing you, and caring for you, made any effort feel as easy as breathing.

A few minutes pass without another word being said. Sometimes Bela gives your hand a little squeeze, just to check in, and you always return it. Soon enough your brain starts to relax, loosening its vice-like grip on your motor controls. Once again you can ease the tension in your muscles. Then you find yourself rubbing your thumb against Bela’s hand, moving in soft circular motions, head turning so you can smile at her. Even if it’s too dark for you to see much, you know that her eyes see you just fine.

“Feeling any better?” She asks, donning a smile of her own. One squeeze. “Is there anything more I can do to help?” A pause, then one squeeze. Now that your limbs don’t feel as staticky, there’s only one thing on your mind: Cuddling. You’re moving before you know it, briefly letting go of Bela’s hand so you can get closer to her, pressing your face into her neck and giving her a soft kiss. Then you’re falling against the bed, on your side, looking up at your partner with a grin. It doesn’t take her long to get the message, shifting back onto her side so she can hold you for real this time. One of your hands goes to rest on her back, to serve as your translator for the rest of the night. “I love you,” Bela says, without even thinking.

She freezes up afterwards, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever said the words out loud to you. For a moment she’s scared, a feeling alien to her, but she refuses to back down. It pays off a few seconds later, incredibly so, when you return the words the best way you can: One squeeze.

[missymurphy1985]

Friends with Added Benefits (part 8)

Warnings - angst / pregnancy / cheating?

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen

You'd been back home from your holiday for a month, Cillian and Alison had talked extensively about their son and allowed the dust to settle before they met for the first time. Cillian had spent much of the last 2 weeks back and forth between your home and hers in Queens Park, getting to know Nathan. You weren't overly concerned about any of it, until a week earlier when you'd used Cillian's phone, with his permission, to send a text to your mum - you'd dropped yours on the kitchen floor that morning, smashing the screen.

While you'd been typing, a text had come through from Alison, the notification appearing across the top of his screen.

"It's been so good reconnecting with you these last few weeks x." kisses Why was she sending him texts with kisses on? Curiosity got the better of you, and you opened the message, finding yourself reading them all.

Cillian - "It was so good to see you, dinner was amazing, you're a great cook! X" Dinner??? A kiss?!

Alison - "You too. Next time I'll make sure we remember the peppercorn sauce for your steak! X" next time?? Why were there kisses on every fucking message? You looked down at your 34 week bump, you were huge now, spent most of your time on the sofa or napping. Sex was off the menu, you felt about as sexy as a humpback whale.

You couldn't look at any more texts, you simply threw the phone on the bed and tried not to cry. Clearly he wasn't interested in you anymore... Ankles swollen, constant back pain, all you'd done was push him away when he tried to help you and this was your own fault - sending him straight into the arms of Alison. Slim, toned, blonde fucking bombshell Alison...

Now though, a week on, waiting for him to come back from yet another 'date' with her, you sat on the sofa looking at the screenshots you'd sent yourself from his phone that day. He walked into the house, whistling chirpily to himself, making his way into the kitchen. You waddled in to him, watching him knock a sandwich up.

"Didn't get your steak this time?" You questioned, arms folded.

"What?" He turned sharply to ask, his brows furrowed.

"Or did she forget the peppercorn sauce again?"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

"Don't play fucking dumb with me! I've seen the messages you've been sending each other! Kisses on all of them!! If you didn't want me Cillian, all you had to do was say!!!" He put the butter knife down and closed the fridge door, giving you his full attention.

"You've been reading my texts?"

"I used your phone last week to text my mum, remember? Sick of the 'heavily pregnant, always complaining girlfriend' already? My god Cillian..."

"Y/n..."

"No!! Don't stand there and lie to me!!"

"I'm not going to lie to you."

"How long have you been fucking her?"

"I'm not fucking her!"

"Well you're not fucking me, and I know your sex drive Cillian, you're clearly getting it somewhere!"

"I'm not fucking you because you don't want to fuck me!"

"What? I feel like a WHALE Cillian!! Can you remember the last time I slept for more than 3 hours straight? The last time I was able to walk without feeling like my pelvis was gonna snap in two? The last time you fucking complimented me?" He hung his head.

"I'm sorry y/n... Okay? I'm sorry! I don't know what you want from me! I try to hold you, you squirm away! I touch you, you recoil like I'm a monster! I want to help you but you're not exactly making it easy to know what it is you fucking want from me!"

"I want you to not fuck other women!"

"I'm not fucking other women!! Those texts are between me and Nathan!!!"

"What?"

"He doesn't have a phone - Alison won't let him have one yet. Madness.. the kid's 14.. but that's how it is! He texts me from his mum's phone!" You froze, unable to focus properly.

"Nathan..."

"How long have you had this shit in the back of your mind? A week? Do you trust me at all??" He was angry.. really angry.

"I do... I swear I do..."

"You clearly fucking don't!"

"Cillian I'm sorry!!! Okay? I'm sorry..."

"Fucks sake y/n... I need some air." He headed out the back door to the garden, slamming it behind him. "Here's my phone - read them ALL y/n, not just the ones that satisfy your crazy ass imagination."

You leaned on the wall, sobs wracking your whole body now you realised what a complete fool you'd been. You looked at the messages again on his phone, and saw them for exactly what they were - clearly a conversation between a father and son. Talk of fishing trips. Football. Meeting you.. his new little brother or sister coming in a few weeks... Why hadn't you seen those before? You looked out into the garden but he wasn't there, the side gate swinging open, he must've gone for a walk.

Drying your eyes, you headed into the lounge, before pausing. A dull ache across your lower abdomen, followed by a strong tightening across your whole belly took your breath away.

"Shit..." You picked up your phone and called Cillian, hearing his phone ring from the kitchen where you'd left it.

"Oh shit... Shit, shit, shit..."

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 6 | " AT LONG LAST PT. 1 "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @angeljungwon @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @fluffi @gyeraniee @stxrryemxlys

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To be promenaded in front of the entire ton is one of every lady’s desires. From the piercing stares of the envious, to the love-struck looks of those smitten by the pair, the two most-loved couple of this season gracefully saunters from the cemented pathway and down to the grassy lawn, ever so politely greeting Northumberland with their warmest and charming presence.

The young marquess joins the young miss’ family under the canopy near the lake. With a hand draping over Sunghoon’s arm, Lord Niki mutters swears to the gods for lightning to strike upon the chap, as the gagging sight of his sister along with his most despised douche is gradually sucking the life out of him.

“Good morning!” Sunghoon greets the family and so did Lady Park. Jay gives away a polite nod followed by a toast of the teacup, whereas the almost always brooding Niki responds with an exaggerated rolling of his eyes.

“Your Grace. Always the charmer, aren't we?” Niki jeers to which Jay chokes on his warm, jasmine tea.

“The smoothest at being one, Riki.” The name rolls naturally off his tongue like a snake’s hiss that roused Niki’s ire. The boy could feel the crescendo of his spite, yet he eases it casually with a sly smirk.

“Smooth like a snake, perhaps? I anticipate those fangs in action.” Niki surprisingly snaps back. Jay clears his throat as he whispers to Niki in hopes to prevent him from further fumes, although he knows it would be of no use.

Sunghoon scoffs in return, “need I remind you that I shall deliver if provoked. However tempting that may be right now, I regret to inform you that I’m only here to promenade your sister and impress your dear mother.”

“I do hope she turns you down in the most painful way possible, Your Grace. I find my sister's taste in men quite genteel. Surely, you're aware of how opposed you are to that considering your…” Niki walks closer to the marquess to give an exclusive barb against his ear, “nasty record.” He brushes off imaginary dust off Sunghoon’s shoulder before bumping against it, “Good day to you two!”

“Oh dear, your brother is making me worried. Is he alright?” Lady Park whispers to Jay and the gent soothes their mother by softly massaging her hands, rubbing circles on the back of her palm, “he's just going through puberty, mother.”

“Is that so? I don't remember you having those episodes before. Furthermore, I apologize, Your Grace. Rest assured it won't happen again. I will definitely see to it.”

“No worries entirely. It's Niki after all, he may be a tough handful but as far as I recall he's completely-”

“Held back? Are those the words you were going for?” Jay cuts off. 

“You're quite forgetting the fact that I’m right here.” Y/n attempts to intrude only to be silenced by her brother once again. With his head held high, Jay saunters up to Sunghoon, who is almost the same height as him. Locking eyes with the chap, he simpers, “come, Your Grace, I require a brief moment with you. Excuse us for a bit, sis.”

And with that, the men left the canopy, leaving Y/n and her mother utterly baffled with the uncalled tension.

The sound of paper being folded into an almost crumple echoes around the parlour, where the only sound that existed prior was deafening silence from the three men sitting across each other.

The culprit was none other than Yang Jungwon, who appears to be insulted from what he just read. Throwing off the now crumpled paper, Daniel perfectly catches it mid-air and opens it in haste.

Sunoo takes a gander at the Daily Tattle’s contents that Daniel incoherently mutters. Jungwon carefully studies his brother's reaction as Sunoo’s smile quickly transforms into shock, followed by the furrowing of his eyebrows with his mouth ajar; the final gesture, shooting a questioning look-- with his mouth still ajar-- at one of the scandal’s subjects.

“Surely, me asking two dances from you was already too cheap but, one, brother? Are you seriously being expensive right now?" The eldest exclaims.

"One that is very exclusive and controversial, might I add." Daniel chimes in. “What was all that about?"

"Remind me why I need to explain myself to the both of you?" Jungwon monotonously replies with his eyes fixed on the book he was now reading.

“Because we ought to know?”

“Well, if not to us, at least to Y/n?"

“Good god. Why is she in this conversation all of a sudden?"

"Because you pulled a dick move on her and we ought to know what's going on inside that brain of yours! You're so dense. Must we shake you up to shrug off those lil rust in there?"

"Oh, shut up, Daniel."

“That thing you did there? With her? Was very unlikely of you, Jungwon." Sunoo stands from his seat and transfers to Jungwon’s side on the couch.

"Well, what is like me then?"

"Spit it out or Daniel and I are gonna have to annoy you for the whole week.”

Jungwon slams the book on the couch and lets out an exasperated sigh before grunting out loud. "I just wanted to be alone with her, okay?! Are you pleased now?"

"Wait. You like her, don't you?”

“No, I don't! And I would never for heaven's sake."

“But you want to be alone with her. Isn't that what people do when they're in love?" Daniel rubs his chin in thought.

“Oh, god! Whatever lets the both of you sleep at night then. Assume the worst for all I care." The heated gent lifts himself up from the couch and strides towards the exit.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from the two of you. You won't stop annoying me either way, so I’m gonna get myself some cleaner air.” Jungwon slams the door shut behind him for a relieving walk to the woods.

“Now he's mad.”

“All we ever said was the truth, didn't we?”

“He is pretty rusty, alright.”

Y/n visits the Kielder Forest once again to run away from the stressful men of this morning’s promenade. She could've stayed in her fortress, but because of their foolish ruse, she had to show up. Now her brothers had to meddle with the already confusing mess.

Pages from the borrowed Austen book are now being flicked through again. She couldn't concentrate no matter how hard she tried, as Niki’s words still lingered in her mind.

“What nasty record could he have?” She mutters under her breath. Soon after, crunching of leaves startles her, and she realizes her whispers weren't the only noise around. Y/n dashes out of her sheer fort only to be welcomed by her most coveted man ever.

"What are you doing here?!" Jungwon asks in an angry kind of worry.

"What are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk, obviously?"

"Well, I’m reading. Obviously." Y/n sassily blinks at him, to which he returns a slightly puzzled look.

"You're much aware that you shouldn't be here, let alone unchaperoned, right?"

"Well, good thing you're here!"

Y/n crouches down to re enter her fort now that she has a guest. She softly taps the extra pillow, gesturing Jungwon to join her in a momentary bliss. One that is very rare when it comes to the both of them, and something that the young miss has found herself accustomed to now. When it comes to Jungwon, he'll just leave her begging for more.

Was it simply luck that had caused him to turn down this pathway? Whatever it was, he didn't feel the need to complain. As of now, all he ever wanted was a piece of mind from his brother's interrogations about him and Y/n. Not fully realizing that the very person who triggered him to rush out of his house would be the one he was impossibly hoping to run into.

"You still have that?" Jungwon points his lips to the book she was flipping. She had borrowed it from him and had yet to return it after all these years.

"Are the inclusions still there?" He continues. Although he wishes he didn't. He recalls all the little notes he left on his favorite pages just to get his feelings across and now he chuckles at the mere thought of him playing Romeo.

"They are. They're kind of tattered now, but they're still comprehensible. You do have a remarkable penmanship after all, something that's very impossible to miss."

The boy chuckles at the thought. "You do mean those things you wrote here, right?" She concerningly asks to which Jungwon only shrugs his shoulder with lips shut tight. "Well, don't mind me 'cause I'd like to think that you did."

"Suit yourself." He mutters. Little did she know he was smiling to himself with flushed cheeks.

The boy looks around the interior of the fort while whistling to the air, followed by a few jabberjays mocking his tune. They chuckle over the memory and realize they had traveled back in time.

"Jay's going to get aggressive with me on fencing once he hears about this. I've been conspiring to keep his sister hidden." He playfully smirks.

"Do you remember we used to do this in the garden lawn? Playing hide and seek just to get a glimpse of Jay's maddening face." Y/n reminisces the good old times they both used to share. Although there were petty fights here and there, what conquered most was their endearing bond.

Jungwon looks over as he vividly remembers that exact memory, "and we ended up building a fort out of the picnic sheets we used to hide in and officially made it our castle" he adds.

"I've forgotten what it's like to feel young." Y/n lets out a deep sigh, minding the pressure she's bearing now that she's about to be offered to the life-long commitment that is marriage.

Jungwon looks over her, feeling all concerned with the worries that she might be facing as of late; things that he wouldn't have any knowledge of as a man.

Society has dictated women's place in the world as persons who are supposed to be emotional, submissive, and homely; something very opposed to those of men. Knowing Y/n well enough and how she enjoys her liberty, her own principles, Jungwon worries her future companion, if not him, would find her very indifferent and of no use in the long run.

And it pains him to think that she wouldn't be well off with someone even worse than him.

She deserves more and he knows that fully well.

"Well, I, for one, miss moments like this more than anything." He lightens the mood in hopes of seeing that beautiful smile on her face.

As he turns to her, the two lock eyes. In that moment, Yang Jungwon swore of laying out his long-hidden sentiments. Under normal circumstances, he would speak his mind. But with Y/n looking at him like this, he would most likely fuck things up.

And he fails himself yet again.

"So uhh… you and the duke-to-be, huh? That must be thrilling." He looks away and pretends to play with the twigs on the ground.

"Y-Yeah! Yeah, indeed, it is. The promenade went well today… before the two decided to sabotage it."

"Do tell."

"We're all aware of how Niki ultimately detests the marquess, aren’t we? He kind of uhh… insulted the man in front of mother."

"And… Jay?"

"Stole the marquess from me to have a word with him."

"I reckon he had many words with him."

Y/n chagrins at the imagination of Jay going head to head with the marquess. Being the overprotective one, Jay will go out of his way to expel threats in the family.

"You seem to be clearly aware of that. Yet you entertained His Grace anyway. I pity Niki. He must be going through a loophole of shit again, now that his dear sister's off strutting with that man." Jungwon blurts out, though he wishes he never did… again.

He is clearly rusty and he kind of admits it now.

"That man? Whatever's the matter with all of you?! You dare speak of him like you know what happened between him and my brother-"

"Y/n, we all went to the same university. What makes you think I know nothing?"

"That man you're referring to was just the man who saved me from an embarrassing night, no thanks to you."

Jungwon scoffs at her pettiness.

"Don't turn away with those remarks now. You toyed with me that night, left me there with nothing but utter shame to bring home. I'm sure you're very proud of that now."

Promenading would be every woman's desire, indeed. But being ghosted or fled from is something that every woman fears, especially when they've been shunned by someone they adore the most. Such shame and reproach haunts them for almost the rest of their lives, especially when the ton won't let them sleep at night with that reminder.

"Have you not at least any bit of politeness left in you? You must be ashamed, asking my brother for such favor that you cannot even put through yourself."

"I have my reasons."

"I highly doubt they're even valid." Y/n retorts. Jungwon sighs in exasperation, finding the situation rather unnecessary that he'd rather keep his mouth shut. She deserves to let her anger out after all.

"Whatever happened to you?" She mutters under her breath, looking over to the boy who kept his head hung low with his elbows leaning on his raised knees. "Sometimes, I look at you and see a completely different person. You know, I never learned to read your mind, Jungwon. So stop giving me all these silent treatments as if something happened even though nothing ever did."

Jungwon lets out a sharp exhale before poking his cheek with his tongue. "Stop seeing Sunghoon then. If you care so much about your brother, stop frolicking around with that scoundrel."

Y/n scoffs at him, followed by the rolling of her eyes, trying to stifle an untimely tear from falling.

"You're unbelievable! Just so you know, I've wasted many sleepless nights crying because of your stupid ass, and I still do for heaven's sake! But now it's very clear to me that there's no amount of crying left that I can do for you!"

Y/n groans heavily before standing up from the pillow she was sitting on, throwing the Austen book hardly on the cold ground.

"So much for hearing nothing but the truth from you, huh? I despise you, Jung. Very much."

She runs off from the boy for what seemed like the nth time. For the past years, this exact scene had happened. Jungwon closes his eyes and lets himself fall harshly on the pillows. He raises a hand over his head, looking at the gaps between his fingers thinking of how he let her slip away, again. He drowns himself in deep thoughts, all the while trusting that Y/n will forget this day ever happened, like before.

He knows she will.

At least, that's what he tells himself.

Though deep down, his stomach churns in fear.

And there's no one to blame but his damning pride.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

[beelspillowpet]

If your requests are open and your willing to, would you be able to do the brothers reacting to a trans MC? 👉🏻👈🏻 preferably female to male, but either way is fine! Sorry if your not comfy with this type of request >~<

Anon, just because you were afraid that I would turn down your request, I am going to PROVE to you how much it doesn’t bother me I'm going to do the 7 brothers AND the side characters. Because you BETTER BELEIVE we have a cast of supportive people!! Yessir!!!

I myself am the twin sister of my late twin brother, who was also FtM! I’ll be using his memory as inspiration, if you do not mind? Thank you for requesting this!

~

Lucifer

At first he presumed you were just not girly. He didn't really mind your behavior or way of dressing, so long as you got your tasks done on time and were on your best behavior.

When you cut your hair and stopped wearing that nail polish (despite Asmo’s pleading) he still thought nothing of it. You wore pants, and started trying your best to drop hints, and thankfully, Lucifer isn’t an idiot.

So what you’re telling me is that we’ve made you uncomfortable when referring to you as a woman? If that is the case, MC, then we would be more than happy to refer to you as anything you request. You only need to say the word.

He is dedicated to making sure you’re happy and comfortable here. He and his brothers may be demons, but they aren’t heartless. They were once angels too. He goes through the process with you, if you were shaky or unsure of what to do in the past. If you want HRT, surgery, need a new wardrobe, he and his brothers will be the first to provide. Whatever to keep you happy in your skin.

Mammon

Oh. Honestly speaking, he’ll still love you regardless of what form your body takes. He liked the way you looked, but secretly he can’t wait to see how you’ll look after you transition.

Before we even get to that point though, it takes a lot of hint dropping for him to get it. And even then, he has to go and ask the others what you’re trying to tell him. Of course he gets picked on a little bit for it, but once he figures it out he’s really happy you were comfortable enough to tell him.

Hell, he might get a job just so he can help you be able to afford all the things you’ll need to properly transition. Some of the details make him blush quite a bit, and if you’re uncomfortable with touches or any signs of affection during your process of transitioning, he will politely refrain from making his human uncomfortable.

He’s taking you to Majolish and you are going to get your ENTIRE wardrobe redone. Courtesy of The GREAT Mammon! You should feel grateful that he’s working this hard to make you happy. I mean c’mon, he LOVES you! He can’t wait to love you more after you’ve become the man you always were deep down inside.

Leviathan

He does notice that you act different from other women. Not that he minds it, not at all. His Henry is still the same old Henry. Just a little bit different. He’s a little bit different too, there’s nothing wrong with that. Right?!

It’s when you start preferring to be called Henry as opposed to your birth name, do the cogs start churning in his brain. He would have suspected at first that maybe you just were very good friends with him and loved TSL almost as much as him.

He’s seen a few heart-warming anime about it. Specifically one about a girl becoming a boy, and the struggles he went through while attending school. The title wasn’t too important to him, but now that he had a reference for what you were dealing with, he was a bit happy. He just wanted to wait until the moment was right to bring it up to you. Perhaps his Henry was really a Henry after all!

When the moment comes, he’s proud to say the least. He throws his arms around you happily, and promises to be there by your side every step of the way. He’s not exactly rolling in money, but an Otaku finds a way. The Lord of Shadows is your best friend ever, and he can’t wait to see the before and after pictures of your full transition!

Satan

It started with a book you read with him. He didn’t fully comprehend your situation, but he knew you didn’t act like normal girls. It reminded him of a character in a book he read a few weeks ago. The guy didn’t really act like a girl.

While sweet and thoughtful, this character didn’t hit the nail on the head in some ways. When talking over the book with you, you explained just as much to him. The energy was there, but it was backwards for you. He picked up on it immediately.

So what you’re telling me is, you understand this characters struggle with themselves, and can relate to it. But something about it is backwards? A little smile appears on his face as it fully dawns on him. MC, I think I’ll be able to assist you in any way you need.

With Satan’s wonderful connections across the entire Devildom, it wasn’t long before you were getting some of the best treatment possible. The prices seemed a bit scary, but he assured you everything was being taken care of behind the scenes. If you needed to worry about anything, it would be the tiring, long process to come with transitioning. He’ll be sure it goes relatively smoothly for you, though!

Asmodeus

Oh he gets it immediately. Darling why didn’t you just say so in the first place?

He’s dragging you back to your room, rambling the entire time about how he can’t wait to take you out and go shopping. He puts together a devious little page to gather up donations and the like to support your transitioning. His fans would be HONORED to pitch in, right?

In the mean time, he stops pampering you with makeup and his other routines that you used to tolerate for the sake of being cordial. He still pushes for the nail polish, since gender is simply a social concept and he’s ready to crush it into dust any chance he can get. But it’s not about him, it’s about you.

Soon your room is painted a new color, your dresses and skirts and frilly outfits are tossed out for more appropriate attire for your sex, and he’s taking photos for his Devilgram page to show everyone how beautiful you are, even while going through the long process!

Beelzebub

You and Beel got along fabulously. He seemed astonished that a female was interested in all these manly habits he indulged in. He heard from some of the guys on his team that you were interested in playing Fangol. As evidenced by how you always showed up to his practices and games, no matter if they were home or away.

He figured you were just a really big fan of sports. But then you even started working out with him, and giving him suggestions and tips on how to get even more out of his workouts at the gym. You were really passionate about this.

Let’s not kid ourselves, he probably does not pick up on any of the signs. You have tot ell him, and you have to tell him firmly. You are a man, just like him. When you do tell him, however, he’s eager to help you transition. Imagine having another guy in the house who loves Fangol as much as you do!?

He isn’t much aside from emotional support through the transitions, and he coddles you when you have those bad days. If you want to eat something, he’ll rush to the kitchen and cook you a full meal before you move an inch. You’re allowed to lay in bed today. Let him handle the heavy load of work for you.

Belphegor

Oh wow, look at that. He picked it up almost immediately.

I mean, there’s no way a girl would act the way you do, right? Dress the way you do. Be the way you are. He doesn’t care though, and just wants you to be happy. If that means you transition into a man, then hell, he’s on board with you.

He may be a lazy bastard, but he knows when it’s time to get up and work hard to get something. That was what he was like as an angel, anyways. Working at Hell’s Kitchen is the worst, and you hear him complain about as much, but he smiles and assures you that it’s all for a good reason.

His final gift to you to apologize about the Incident, is money. Now at first glance it seems like something Mammon would do. Probably. In reality though, this is the money that will be going towards your HRT. He doesn’t know if you want to fully transition or not, but if you want that top surgery, he can help pay for that too. He’ll do anything to make sure you’re happy and healthy in your own body.

Diavolo

It really is a house of men, isn’t it?

He’s glad though, truly, that you were comfortable coming to him about it. Don’t bother ever opening your wallet to pay for any therapy, medication, or surgery. As the Prince of the Devildom, he would be more than happy to get you doctors of all sorts to help you. No questions asked!

It might be a bit overwhelming at first, but the news is exciting. If the Prince accepts you so readily, it gives you hope that other demons will as well. Pretty soon you’re going through your processes, and Diavolo couldn’t be happier to see it happening.

You really is a wonderful guy, and he’s glad he’s getting to experience the changes you take in your life. 

Barbatos

To say he didn’t suspect this would be an understatement.

Ever silent and respectful though, he never spoke a word of it. You are probably uncomfortable with people assuming it, even though it’s true. An insecurity that humans seem to deal with, although unfortunate.

However, when the news is broken during a meeting between you, Lucifer, he, and the Prince himself, a smile creeps on his face.

He’s happy to hear that you are so comfortable speaking about this sort of thing. He knows it must be tough, having hidden your true feelings for so long. He prepares a delicious tea with small treats, to celebrate your coming out, and transitioning.

Simeon (and Luke)

Oh dear. God loves you, still. Don’t worry about this. He doesn’t see you as an imperfection.

They assures you constantly that you have their full support, and that will never change. You are not broken, you are not unwanted, and you are not strange. You are a regular trans man in their eyes, and they will defend you on that.

Simeon almost takes on a fatherly role to you, wanting to make sure everything goes as smooth as possible. He probably has done a bit of research in preparations for your transition, and all the nasty little side effects that come with it are worrying him.

However, once it’s all over, Luke and Simeon are glad you came out on top. And my, what a handsome man you make!

Solomon

He figured, but didn’t want to assume. I mean, who the hell is he?

He’s got a few spells for this though, make it quick and painless. One wave of a wand and POOF! Woman no more!

Oh but that’s probably dangerous. The shifty bastard. You would much rather do it the regular way; and not have your insides and outsides shifted around by some crazy sorcerer.

He doesn’t protest much, but that does suck. Hehe. Oh well. You can count on him to support you through it all!

[stupid-stew]

Boiling Rain

my finger slipped again oopsies idk if this is 100% in character but like what if eda kicked lilith out right away and ended up regretting it later

There was nothing worse than a knock on the door for Eda. Especially not in the middle of the night, during a boiling rain storm, when she was fresh out of magic, and she had a kid in the house, and there was no hooty noise to warn her beforehand. What was he up to?

Eda was still new at defending herself without her magic, but she knew her way around a bat, just ask that guy at the bar from her 20’s and his massive medical bill. Whatever she thought, laughing to herself, that jerk deserved it, no medical bill was larger than his ego. Bat in her left hand, doorknob in her right, she simultaneously swung the door open and raised the bat into a defensive position, ready to strike, that is until…

“Lily?”

What she saw before her definitely wasn’t her sister, but that was Lilith on her doorstep. Well kind of, Lilith collapsed in front of her, drenched in steaming water, clearly out of breath, nothing like the perfect prissy Lilith she knew, and what was she wearing? Where was her dress and cloak? Oh, Eda realized, that is her dress and cloak. The clothes were nearly melting off of her sister, riddled with holes. That couldn’t have made her injuries any less severe. Eda had been stuck in her fair share of boiling rain storms, even with the thick skin of the owl beast it had still taken her weeks to heal, she couldn’t even begin to fathom the state her sister was in.

“I’m sorry” came a hoarse whisper from the pile at her feet

“Lily oh my titan-” Eda dropped the bat and turned her head to yell up the stairs, hoping she was loud enough to wake her sleeping apprentice “LUZ, WAKE UP” Her head snapped back to the door frame at the movement of Lilith flinching at her loud voice. What happened to her.

Eda bent down to at least try to get an idea of the injuries her sister had suffered, but before she could get her hands on Lilith, Luz appeared at the base of the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked, clearly still half asleep. “I need you to go up to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, not the one in the first aid kit box, the one in the lunchbox.” Eda instructed.

Luz went to move up the stairs but suddenly snapped awake, “Is that Lilith?”

“Luz, later, first aid kit now, please” Eda responded, back turned to the now fully attentive teenager

“Got it…” Luz ran up the stairs, “...the blue or the purple one?” she shouted

Eda sighed, now that Luz was going to be here a while she should make a point to show the kid the ropes around the house “The purple one please.”

Not even a half minute later Eda had the box in her hand and was sorting through the bandages, what was she doing, she didn’t even know how badly wounded Lilith was. Eda set the supplies down and moved to touch Lilith when a pale, terribly blistered hand shot out of the mound in front of her and grabbed her wrist.

“No.”

Eda was confused and jerked her hand away “What do you mean no?”

Lilith took a couple ragged breaths before weakly responding “I don’t want your help, I don’t deserve it”

They sat there in silence for a moment before Eda remembered Luz was still behind her, “Luz, sweetie, could you go grab some blankets and maybe draw up some of those healing glyphs you’ve been working on?”

“Sure” the girl replied softly before quietly stepping back up the stairs

“Edalyn I sai-” Lilith started

“I heard you. I don’t want to hear it. You need help.”

“Not your help-” Lilith inhaled painfully “not after everything I did to you.”

“Oh for titan’s sake Lily, you think just because you made a mistake I’m going to let you lay here in pain? I haven’t even seen your face yet and I can tell you need help, mine or not.”

“No, I shouldn’t have come here, it’s all my fault, I’ll go.” Lilith moved to get up, but the burns weren’t having it and she barely got a push-up’s distance off the ground before her arms gave out.

“Are you kidding me right now? You come to my door in the middle of the night, after having gone through titan-knows-what, covered in burns, your clothes are barely intact, and you expect me to just let you leave?”

Eda wasn’t having any more of it, and reached out and grabbed Lilith’s arm, who hissed in a combination of pain and protest.

“Not on my watch sister” Eda spoke through her teeth. For someone so frail, Lilith was definitely a bit heavier than she looked, though the fact she was drenched probably didn’t help.

She managed to drag the complaining witch all the way to the couch before Luz made her way down the stairs, blankets and a stack of healing glyphs in hand.

“Kid, drop those and come help me please.”

Together they were able to get Lilith into a lying position on the couch, and for the first time see how bad of a state Lilith was in. Not an inch of the witch’s skin was spared from the rains, red blotches and boils acted like massive freckles over her whole body. While taking in the sight of her sister, Eda managed to meet the injured witch’s eyes for a split second, and what she saw scared her more than anything. Of course Lilith’s face was contorted in pain, but there was also shame and embarrassment in her eyes. If I showed up in her state I’d be embarrassed too, but did she really think I wasn’t going to help her?

“Kid can you go upstairs and grab Lilith some clothes from my dresser? Anything you think will fit her is fine, and…” Eda leaned in next to Luz’s ear and in a low whisper “could you take your time? I’d like to talk to my sister in private”

Luz looked at her with understanding “Of course, if you need anything just yell up the stairs.” She eyed Lilith one more time before retreating back up the stairs.

Eda then turned back to Lilith, who seemed unwilling to meet her eye again. “Alright. Let’s get started, you look a mess, so this might hurt a lot more than a little.”

“Edalyn why are you doing this”

Eda chuckled “Have you seen yourself, I’ve never been the best at responsibility, but I think it would make me a bad person to not help someone in your condition.”

“No Eda, I mean why after everything that I did to you, to Luz, why are you still helping me when I am the last person you should want to help, I don’t understand.”

There was a heavy silence followed by a long exhale from Eda. She didn’t respond, instead moving for the pile of glyphs that Luz had left them. “This is going to hurt a lot, and I’m not going to be able to get it all without my magic, the glyphs only do so much, but I think I can make the worst of it at least better.”

For the second time that night Eda was stopped from touching Lilith by a pale shaking hand.

“Edalyn, why?”

“Ok here’s a deal, you let me help you and I’ll tell you why in the end? Sounds fair enough?”

“You really aren’t going to budge on this are you.”

“Nope.” Eda replied, popping her lips on the last syllable.

Lilith flopped back onto her back, shutting her eyes and exclaiming at the, without a doubt, excruciating pain the impact with the couch had caused.

“Real smooth Lils”

“Oh shut it.”

Somehow the older witch’s face turned even more red through the burns and boils.

Eda managed to get through placing glyphs along Lilith’s arms and legs with minimal issue, Lilith didn’t seem to be enjoying herself very much, but even she had to admit it was starting to look better. At some point Luz had come back down with a cream colored shirt and black patchwork skirt for Lilith to change into along with some more glyphs. Eda had sent her back to bed, the kid did have school in a few hours.

“Ok, we are going to have to take off your dress so I can reach your back, looks like that’s where most of the damage is, and…” as Lilith sat up Eda caught a glimpse of her full back “there also doesn’t seem to be all that much dress left to remove. You really got caught in the rain huh?”

Lilith didn’t respond, but instead met Eda’s eyes again, which made Eda suspicious.

“Do we have to?”

“Yes Lilith we have to treat your injuries.” Eda rolled her eyes at her sister, what did she expect when she was out in the rain without protection?

Lilith didn’t look amused, instead she seemed to pale out. She pulled down the top half of her dress and rolled over onto her stomach.

Eda gasped.

Lilith’s back was covered in burns and boils sure, but what shocked Eda was the array of scratches and claw marks all over Lilith’s back, not only her back but they seemed to go up and down her whole body in varying degrees. Some of them looked healed, or on the way there, some of them fresh, some of them even seemed to be infected.

“What the hell Li-”

Was all she got out before she was interrupted

“Forest demons aren’t as nice as they seem. Ever.”

Oh. Eda snapped her mouth shut and silently applied as many glyphs as she could to Lilith’s back and upper arms as she could. Of course, Eda thought, I didn’t let her stay here, she’s got no friends outside the coven, she doesn’t look different enough to find somewhere safe from the coven guard in town, especially not with her posters lining the alleyways, she’s been sleeping in the woods. Where else would she have gone. With their mother? Any number of nights in the forest without a roof was better than one night under their mom’s.

“Thank you.” a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh.” Eda had been so busy thinking that she didn’t realize she had finished. “I’ll go to the kitchen to make us some tea, you can change in here, don’t worry about hooty he seems to be asleep.”

Lilith nodded and Eda made her way to the kitchen. Once the water was on the stove, she dove back into her thoughts. All these nights? I kicked her to the curb the night of the incident, it’s been at least a week, it’s rained almost every night. Oh titan, not all of those burns were fresh, that’s probably why Lilith was able to move at all, she was used to it. How has she been eating, bathing, sleeping? She’d been weakened by the splitting of the curse, could she have even defended herself? She could have come around any time- wait. Eda realized that she had told Lilith not to come anywhere near the house… ever again. That’s why she was so convinced she wouldn’t get help at the owl house. Maybe if I had been less harsh, it I hadn-

The whistle of the water being ready pulled Eda back to reality. She quickly placed the tea bags into the mugs and filled them with water and left the kitchen. When she got back to the living room, Lilith was already sitting in her dry clothes, a dim blue light escaping through the thin fabrics from the glow of the healing glyphs. Eda handed her a mug and brought her own to her lips, taking a long sip before sitting down next to her sister.

They sat like that for a while, sipping and waiting. Eventually, much to Eda’s surprise, Lilith broke the silence.

“So why?”

“Huh?” Eda replied, still deep in thought.

“Why did you decide to help me?” Lilith asked, looking into her mug as if it held all the answers “We both know I didn’t deserve it.”

“You’re right.” Eda replied simply. “You don’t deserve my help.”

Looking up from her tea and at her sister with genuine confusion, Lilith asked “So why did you help me then?”

“Let me finish. You don’t deserve my help. You cursed me, you kept your mouth shut about it for decades, until it was far too late, and in a desperate attempt to save your own ass you captured not only me, but my apprentice. My apprentice who I might as well call my own daughter at this point. You hurt her you know?”

Lilith’s eyes reverted back to her mug in shame.

“Oh yeah, she’s got bruises that aren’t even healed yet, that’s why she got looking into the healing glyphs. Plus, she faced Belos. She had to burn her only way home, she’s stuck here now. And me? I lost my magic. The most powerful witch on the boiling isles, now without the witch part.”

To emphasize her point, Eda drew a golden spell circle in the air, only for it to crumble into a pile of dust at her feet.

“Edalyn, I-”

“But,” the younger Clawthorne interjected, “that doesn’t make you a bad person, and I refuse to let it make me a bad person. I don’t know what your reasons were for cursing me, not telling me, I don’t know what Belos promised you, but it had to be pretty big to do what you did. And it’s my fault for not knowing. I kicked you out without even hearing you out, and you got hurt for it, I never even gave you a chance to explain yourself.”

It was Eda’s turn to avoid eye contact now, staring contemplatively into her now empty cup.

“It’s my fault you got hurt. That’s why I helped you. I was so caught up in my own anger that I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions. I’m still mad at you, and you’re far from forgiven, but I think you need help. Let me help you.”

For the first time in a long time, the two sisters met eyes in a moment of understanding.

“Ok.” Lilith said after a moment of comfortable silence.

“Good because I wasn’t really giving you a choice.”

They both laughed at that.

They sat for a moment, before it was finally Eda’s turn to speak first.

“So why’d you come here if you didn’t want my help?”

Lilith picked at her fingers for a moment before responding.

“I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t have anywhere else to go. It was so dark and so hot, I could barely even think, none of the other storms had gotten me this bad.”

Ah, so I was right. Eda regretted.

“It was like my feet took me here, all I knew was I needed to get out of the rain, and before I knew it I was in front of your house on my knees. I expected you to turn me away, I wanted you to turn me away.”

Eda didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than “Why.”

Lilith thought for a moment.

“I guess I needed you to turn me away, I thought it might feel better to know that for once you would be the one leaving me in pain after 30 years of the roles being reversed, I think after all of that I deser-”

“No.” Eda interrupted. “I might not be the best sister, neither are you, but I will not ever let you suffer in any way remotely close to the way I did. Nobody deserves that, I sure as hell didn’t but neither do you. You will always have a place to stay with me, no matter how mad I am at you.”

They sat for a while longer, both deep in thought. Eventually Eda took both mugs back to the kitchen and rinsed them before going back to the living room, sitting next to Lilith one last time to help her out with the blankets.

“I think the shed is livable, the tower might be a bit too overgrown at the moment but we can work something out. You can stay on the couch tonight, no way you’re going back out into that. We can set ground rules in the morning, just try and get some sleep before the kid wakes up. She’s very excited about the new day, every day.” Eda spoke fondly.

“You really care for her, don’t you.” Lilith asked, a sad smile tugging on her lips.

“That I do. Goodnight Lilith.” Eda responded before stretching and cracking more joints than any one witch should physically be able to. “Woof, even sitting on that couch is enough to make me sore”

“I’m sure it’s just fine, thank you Edalyn, for everything. And goodnight.” Lilith said while trying to find a comfortable position on the lumpy couch. Her injuries, while significantly better, weren’t doing anything to help the situation. It wasn’t long before the soothing warmth of the healing glyphs lulled Lilith into a deep, dreamless sleep, much better than any she’d gotten on the forest floor.

Not even a few hours later, the sun shone on the owl house, waking Luz first, and if she was any quieter than normal that morning, or if she saw a certain gray haired owl lady sleeping on the floor next to Lilith’s position on the couch on her way out the door, she never mentioned it to a soul.

[veryreallyfuckinbad]

FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 5

TW: Strong language, implied abusive relationships.

Days passed quickly at the farm. Your schedule was filled with hunting, scavenging, killing any walkers that wandered too close, taking watch. You fell into a pleasant routine- one that was rare in a world full of nothing but surprises. You were busy every day, but once the sky darkened and cheerful conversations faded into faint whispers around a crackling campfire, you felt the same freedom that accompanied you when you were on your own. You loved every single member of your new family- maybe besides Shane, who was an asshole to everyone who didn’t agree with him. You became close with Maggie, she was like an older sister that you’ve never had. Daryl was still very much an enigma, but you felt most comfortable in his company. He began cracking small, dry jokes from time to time and never complained when you ran your mouth or tried to lift the mood with a stupid joke. Once his patience ran out, he would eventually kick you out and send you back to your tent, but you didn’t mind. You knew the man by now and were grateful for the smallest of talks with him. Despite enjoying the “mundane” life on the farm, you were like a wild animal- you couldn’t stay in for too long, eventually beginning to pace around your cage in a haze. The cage opened once the sun set. You enjoyed running around the dark, empty fields and rolling in the grass with Jake and telling him every Greek myth you could remember his namesake telling you. You knew he couldn’t understand you, but somehow hoped he could. The grass under your body felt cold and cooled you down, the blades ticking your legs and hands. Tonight was one of those nights.

Your hands traced circles in the grass that you and Jake were laying on. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you took a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Jake was lying beside you, you haven’t seen him this relaxed since you were alone in the forest with him. The stars were shining bright above you, moonlight giving everything a dreamy glow. You closed your eyes and took in the moment, basking in the cold light of the moon. The grass smelled fresh, and made you feel more awake- more alive. Your eyes shot open when you heard the familiar crackling of a campfire. Once you sat up, your eyes were met with a familiar orange glow. Daryl was sitting by the campfire, his face illuminated by flames. You stood up and carefully made your way over to him, making sure to stay out of sight and not make any noise. Once you got closer, you could see the man clearly.

His face was partially covered with loose strands of hair, but his eyes were filled with disappointment, anger and sadness. He was exhausted- a single look at him proved it. Dark circles outlined his cold eyes and he looked paler than usual.

“Daryl?” your voice was nothing more than a whisper, but he still jolted up, startled. He eyed you and sighed, dipping his head.

“What the hell, woman?” He spoke roughly but quietly, no louder than you. “Ya watchin’ me?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, taking a step out of the shadows with Jake carefully following you. Daryl was selfless, brave and tough but awful at speaking to people. Bad with people, in general.

“Funny coming from you, Dixon” you heard him scoff as you motioned for him to scoot over so you could take a seat next to him. He complied with a slight grunt and made space for you.

Daryl was tense, more so than usual. You wondered whether he was hurting- physically or emotionally. Whatever it was, something wasn’t right and instead of prying, you decided to do everything you could to cheer him up.

“Wanna talk about it?” you looked at him and for a brief moment, your eyes met. He was surprised- you caught him off guard.

“What d’ya mean?” he asked, turning his head to look at you properly.

“I’ll take that as a no, then” you shot him a tiny smile and turned your gaze to Jake, who sat by your legs. You looked down at him and as your eyes met with his, you decided to stand up and take a seat on the cold, wet grass and rested your back on the log you previously sat on with a sigh. You closed your eyes and began running your fingers along the fox’s fur, whose eyes also shut.

Daryl watched you in pure disbelief. He had so many questions that he didn’t know which one he should ask first. He’s seen you rip walkers apart with your bare hands, throw knives, hunt, yell at the undead to come out already so she can kill them and sleep (which, that one time it was Daryl, not a walker). She was dangerous, but not because she would hurt him. She was dangerous because (Y/N) occupied his thoughts more often than she should, he spent a lot of time thinking about how brutal, violent and fearless she could be, just to come back to camp and ask him how his day was or tell him about things he didn’t care about, like the TV shows she liked back when television was a thing. She could be violent, covered in blood, but she always turned into a gentle, caring and understanding person during every conversation she had with him. Moments like these made him reflect on himself and his friendship with her. Her previously blood-stained hands were now ever so gently running along her fox’s fur. He would never admit it, but he admired how she didn’t treat him like a pet, like so many people would. Both her and her fox were nothing but wild, with two sides to them.

“What d’ya like to draw?” the question left his mouth without him even realizing it, he was so lost in thought that the words slipped out on their own.

“People, animals, sometimes places I like” you answered truthfully, with a smile, enjoying knowing he was curious. He might’ve asked it for the sake of being polite, but you knew that wasn’t something Daryl Dixon would do. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you stood up and looked him in the eyes. “Hold on” you jogged to your tent and after shuffling around for a couple minutes, you came back and trotted to the spot where you were previously sat. You handed him something you’d never willingly show someone else- your sketchbook.

He examined it and opened it gently, as if afraid of tearing your most prized possession apart. He flipped through the pages and stopped to look at a sketch of Jake, then at a halfway-finished picture of Rick, Carl and Lori, sketches of Glenn and Maggie. He flipped over to the last filled page- the very campfire you were sitting by. He looked at that particular sketch longer than at the others. Daryl examined the picture and with every glance, he found new details he hasn’t noticed before. The fire was in the center, the logs you sat around it, some out of view. He noticed your tents in the background and smiled when he saw his crossbow laying in the grass. His fingers brushed against the paper with a tenderness you’ve not yet seen in him.

“It’s not the best, I know, but I-“ You began, but before you could say anything else, Daryl’s voice sounded over yours.

“Nah, I love it” he sounded genuine, a spark appearing in his eyes for a brief moment. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head.

“It’s yours!” you offered him a big grin and affectionately patted his knee. He didn’t flinch away like he usually would, simply looking at you and back at the drawing. You nodded and took the sketchbook from his hands, your hand brushing against his. You carefully tugged on the paper and ripped the page out, about to hand it to him before your eyes widened and you retracted your arm. Daryl didn’t say anything and watched in silence as you grabbed a stray piece of charcoal from your campfire and used it to write something on the back of the page. Finally, you handed it to him and once again leaned against the log.

“That’s the first gift I e’er got.” He almost whispered as you felt your stomach turn. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You looked him deep in the eyes and shot him a confused look, hoping he would elaborate. To your surprise, he did.

“Shit childhood. No Christmas, no nothin’.” He looked away, his cold gaze turning to Jake. You had to physically hold yourself back from wrapping your arms around him. Daryl tensed, frustrated with himself for opening up to you for no reason. He didn’t know you cared or that you appreciated him sharing at least a tidbit about his past. His eyes were still fixed on your fox companion, you weren’t completely sure of his intentions but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt him, so you relaxed slightly. Daryl began chewing on his thumb, something you noticed he did as a nervous tic. You knew he hated pity but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Daryl, I’m so sorry” despite being at a loss for words, you went on, “You didn’t deserve that.”.

As soon as the words left your mouth, he turned his head to look in your eyes, but it felt like he was staring right into your soul, your heart. Nobody has ever told him that. Still, despite being grateful, he refused to believe you said it just to be polite, or because you didn’t know what else to say. There was still a part of him that believed you meant it and it made him more confused than ever.

“I didn’t have the best life, either” you began without even thinking about your words, all you wanted was talking to him, “You know, even before shit hit the fan. My love life was about as pretty as one of them undead assholes” you joked in order to lighten the mood, trying to make light of your very unpleasant, even horrifying relationships- the kind that left bruises on your body and moss on your heart. Daryl didn’t even flinch. Not even a scoff of disapproval, so you continued, “Then, after it all began, I met a group- no, my family. They saved my life and taught me everything I know.” Daryl was convinced you were finished sharing and opened his mouth to speak, but you went on, not caring whether he would see you as weak if you cried when recalling your previous group. “The man that kept me alive, he was like a second father to me, his name was Jake.” Your eyes welled up with tears as you pressed the fox sitting beside you close to your chest. He climbed onto your lap and snuggled into your touch, comforting you the best he could. “He gave me my knife, he gave me a second chance, he gave me all the skills I have, but when our camp was attacked I just-“ your whimpers, which turned to full sobs by the middle of your confession, were interrupted with Daryl’s voice, sounding more tender than usual.

“That’s enough.” He sounded concerned, but comforting. “What matters is yer okay now. Yer here an’ yer alive.” By now, tears were streaming down your face and dripping off your lips and nose. “Besides” he began again, not sure if he should say what he wanted to say, but one hopeful, curious glance of your glossy eyes pushed him to speak. “Ya still have Jake”

You couldn’t help it, you stood up and stared at him, whimpering from time to time. You opened your arms slightly and looked him deep in the eyes. “Can I?” You desperately needed his comfort, no human has comforted you in your moments of weakness since the days of your old group. Daryl simply nodded in response and grunted as you inched forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, sobbing into the crook of his neck. He didn’t hug you back, but you didn’t mind. The man avoided physical contact with everybody in his group, so you were grateful he even let you get so close to him. “Thank you”

Jake’s whimpering caused you to pull away and look at him with confusion, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

Daryl chuckled and smirked lightly, shaking his head at the fox.

“Didn’t take him for the jealous type” he motioned towards Jake with his head and smiled. “I like him” he said, causing you to giggle. You felt much better, all thanks to him. The whole night, you caught him staring at your companion, he was clearly intrigued. You decided to take your shot.

You placed your hand on Jake’s fur and stroked it gently with your palm. Once you felt him relax, you reached your free hand out to Daryl, who was watching you with curiosity in his pale blue eyes. “Give me your hand” you instructed and hoped he wouldn’t ask any questions. Thankfully, he obliged but flinched slightly when your hand touched his. You guided his hand to Jake’s snout as gently as you possibly could, not wanting to scare either of your rather wild friends. You brought his rough, ragged hand to the fox’s nose. Jake looked up at you. You were never very religious, but in that very moment praying seemed like a great idea. You were all but horrified that he would take a bite of Daryl’s fingers, ruining the chance for mutual trust between him and the animal.

You sighed with relief and released a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Jake sniffed Daryl’s hand and didn’t move, simply licking his snout afterwards. The archer’s hand felt less tense now, as if he wasn’t bracing himself for the animal’s teeth in his hand at any second. You took his hand once more and you could swear you could hear a breath hitch in his throat, but he didn’t flinch or pull away. You placed your own hand on the soft fur of Jake’s scruff and grabbed his, pulling it closer carefully, until it was laying on top of yours. His hand was much bigger than yours, covering it whole. Your hand began sliding from beneath his, and soon, his hand was laid on top of Jake’s soft fur. You looked at Daryl and gave him a big grin. Happiness completely overtook you, allowing you to completely forget about the tears you shed just moments ago. Daryl gave you a huge smile, bigger than you’ve ever gotten from him. It was genuine, you could see the pure joy in his eyes- almost like a child petting a stray dog for the first time. His hand travelled through the flame-colored fur, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

“Holy shit” he breathed out and looked at you with the same smile he gave you earlier, his eyes lit up. He looked at Jake with emotions you weren’t sure he could feel until then- joy, awe, love. Daryl was completely invested with brushing the animal’s soft pelt and hardly noticed you chuckle.

“I never realized you were such a softie” you jabbed playfully, somehow knowing he wouldn’t take it personally.

“Shut up”

Once you convinced the hunter to try and get some shut eye, you kept watch with Jake and scratched him behind his ears. Pride filled you, as if you managed to tame two wild beasts at once. The quiet crackling of the flames caused you to get lost in thought, almost putting you in a trance. Daryl’s words echoed through your head, like a lost voice bouncing against walls in your brain. He was so gentle with both you and Jake, allowing you to open up and finally feel completely comfortable around him. You chuckled to yourself when the image of Daryl’s hands shaking slightly when touching the fox ever so gently, as if he was afraid that he could break him into pieces with one wrong move. A strange feeling fluttered in your heart- and stomach. One that you haven’t felt this strongly yet, you were unsure what it meant, but you didn’t want to dwell on it and hoped the answer would just present itself someday.

You’ve already guessed that Daryl’s childhood wasn’t stellar but you never expected it to be quite that horrible. He was sweet, in his own Daryl-Dixon-tough-asshole way. In your eyes, he deserved nothing but gratitude and-

And idea popped into your mind. You remembered the way his eyes lit up and how you felt the walls he built around himself crumble a bit when you gave him your drawing. You smiled and gave Jake a pat on the head while reaching over to retrieve your sketchbook and grabbing a piece of charcoal from the sizzling fire. You got to sketching, beginning with a two circles and some simple shapes, and before long, the shapes turned into two beautifully rendered figures- Daryl and Jake sitting next to each other by a fading out campfire. Daryl was smiling softly while Jake was leaning into his hand, which was placed upon the fox’s head, between his ears. The picture was incredibly tranquil, you could almost hear the hushed chirping of crickets in the grass behind them. Content with your work, you stood up and tiptoed to Daryl’s tent, careful not to wake him up and slipped the drawing in the opening of the tent. It was halfway inside, halfway outside of the tent, like a letter delivered by a lazy postman. You shot his tent a smile and decided to get some sleep yourself.

Daryl turned over and sat up as soon as he heard you zip your tent up. Once he was sure you were inside, he grabbed the piece of paper you slipped through the crack of his tent opening and examined it. A smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized he was in the center, petting (Y/N)’s beloved companion. He felt grateful and incredibly happy, but he also felt something else- a foreign feeling which made him wonder. That woman really was dangerous, she could occupy his thoughts for hours without him even realizing it. Despite his confusion about the new, strange emotion, his smile never wavered. He crouched and dug inside the bag that laid right next to where he slept and finally, pulled out a handful of colorful drawing pins. With a quiet grunt, he pinned the drawing to the wall of his tent in a spot where he could easily look at it while laying down. Staring at the gift, he remembered the other picture you gave him, and the note on the back that he didn’t read yet. He retrieved the now bent in half piece of paper and turned it over. He choked on his own breath when he read the message written on the back.

“I guess it took the apocalypse for you to get a gift, but you better get used to it now. You deserve it, Dixon.

-(Y/N)”

_______

taglist <3

@writers-adversary @kimchiwen @mileysnavely @srhxpci

[sabraeal]

Traffic Lights Are Burnin’

[Read on AO3]

Written in honor of @nebluus‘s birthday! She asked for some WFB, and of the options I gave she chose the next part of our Six Flags saga...only the beginning scene of that chapter ended up ballooning out into this so...it ended up being less Amusement Park Shenanigans and more Wholesome Boys Will Be Boys Content. I’M SURE MADI WILL BE JUST FINE WITH THAT TOO 😂

“Are you making an omelette?”

English is not, functionally, Mitsuhide’s first language. Not that he thinks of it like that-- first or second, third or fourth; there’s no ranking in his life, no moment in which one language followed another. There was English with Mama and quebecois with Papa; a plan quickly scuttled by Mitsuhide being the fifth Lowen sibling. Refusing to be pigeonholed into a single language no matter how many times Mama repeated consistency is key, his brothers mostly spoke a tossed salad of both and assumed he’d understand the lettuce.

Coupled with the fact that all his cousins lived in Toronto anyway, Mitsuhide had hardly begun talking himself before it became outside quebecois and inside English. Unless they left the province, in which case it was a free-for-all that left his few monolingual aunts and uncles dizzy.

Which is to say, Mitsuhide only becomes aware of the precise inner ranking of his languages in moments like this, where gut immediately kicks out a dry ‘j’essaie.’ The translation is vetoed on the grounds that although in quebecois he’s never met a word he couldn’t steep in sarcasm and smuggle in a sacre, he prefers to keep his English so clean it squeaks.

You’ve got it all backwards, Kihal had told him as he sweltered under the San Juan sun, English is fake, you can be as much of an asshole as you want it in, it doesn’t count.

It’s true, there’s something that’s more real to him in French, that’s more real about him, but, well-- there were far fewer cousins to tattle on his potty mouth this way. And now that he knows Obi...

Well, if Kiki ever made good on her threats to teach him any of his “church swears,” he’d probably never sleep easy again. So instead, he scrolls through his mental rolodex of possible appropriate replies before settling on, “Would you like one?”

Zen glances up from his array of pamphlets, glossy paper glaring beneath the overhead lamp. It matches the way Zen is looking at him. “We don’t have time for that.”

Mitsuhide frowns, giving his eggs one last vigorous whisk before pouring them into the pan. “There’s always time for breakfast. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

He glances over just in time to see Zen’s grimace. “Shirayuki really could be your sister.”

There’s really no reason he has to look so horrified by the idea. His brothers may all be broad shouldered, barrel-chested giants, but plenty of his cousins made pocket money in high school through catalogue modeling. And they’re all very nice girls.

He doesn’t mention it. A conversation never ends well if you have to whip out photos of female relatives to prove your point. “Would you like one?” he repeats instead, a safer tactic overall.

Zen’s nose wrinkles beneath some dubiously drawn eyebrows. “Are you putting spinach in there?”

“Kale,” he agrees. “And chicken.”

“In a breakfast omelette?” He clucks his tongue, just the way the Wisteria’s chef would when he attempted to cook at the estate. Quel dommage, he would say, sighing over the cutting board, why would you do that to perfectly good eggs? “Why would you do that?”

Because these muscles don’t come cheap; Mitsuhide chokes down a truly staggering amount of chicken in order to keep them. Roasted, of course-- boiled is technically better for protein, but even he has to draw the line somewhere. The eggs have less, but they are calorie efficient; he’d eat more of them if he could stomach the slimy, snake-like sensation of swallowing them down hard boiled.

But explaining his diet regime usually ended with glazed eyes, so he settles for, “I could always put something different in yours. There’s ham.”

Fancy ham, Obi calls it. It’s just from the deli counter, fresh sliced from whatever quality cut’s on sale, but considering how the first time Obi saw a charcuterie board, he shouted, Oh, Lunchables!--

Well, Mitsuhide can accept that maybe they have different benchmarks for fancy. And somehow just the simple act of calling it that does make it taste better. Or at least more satisfying when it’s shoved between a Hawaiian roll and deli cheese.

There’s a soft shuffle by the kitchen door, and a wild thatch of bristle peeps around the frame. Mitsuhide shakes his head with huff. That’s a new one-- just think the devil’s name and he appears.

Obi lopes into the kitchen, all long limbs and smooth movements, blurring right into the background without any effort at all. He’d gotten Mitsuhide a few times when he’d first moved in, popping up wherever it was sure to be the most inconvenient, grinning like a cat with feathers in its teeth. But once you knew the trick of it, well-- it’s no effort to keep the kid in his sights.

Which is why he has a full, uninterrupted view when Obi slips right up to Zen’s elbow, and asks, “Whatcha doing, chief?”

“Wah!” Pamphlets fly up, a glittering flock of wings swooping beneath the lamp. Zen slaps them down before they can skitter off the table’s edge. “Obi! Make noise for fuck’s sake!”

“Sorry,” he sing-songs, not a sincere note in it. Two long fingers pluck a pamphlet off the wood, twisting it between them. “What’s all this? They starting to put theme parks on exams now?”

“No.” Zen scowls, snatching it out of his hands. “I’m just making today’s itinerary.”

Mitsuhide slides his omelette onto a plate, turning just in time to catch the glance Obi sends him. It somehow says is he fucking with me while also implying I’ll hold him down if we gotta send him to the doctor. “An itinerary?”

He leans a hip against the island, fishing out a fork. What was it Obi always said? Dinner tastes better with a show. Time to find out whether it extends to breakfast too.

Zen fixes Obi with a look that could have had trenches with all its affront. “You can’t go to an amusement park without a plan. How else do you get on all the coasters?”

“It’s only Six Flags New England.” A week ago, the name alone made Obi flee like a cat from a bath, but now every syllable drips with derision, like a sommelier reviewing boxed wine. “They’ve got what? Superman?”

Mitsuhide shoves a corner of his omelette in his mouth. It’s not as good as a sausage, mushroom, and cheese, but, well, it’ll do. “Bizarro.”

“Bizarro.” Obi scoffs. “See? Nothing. Besides, I thought you were the kind of guy to spring for fast passes, boss.”

Zen’s always been sensitive; the sort of kid who tended to pop off when a situation came to a simmer instead of trying to turn down the heat. When Izana had been sitting president, he’s spent half his tenure fielding tense calls, sometimes even climbing into a towncar at a moment’s notice to be taken back east. The school, he’s always say, lifting a shoulder, my brother is proving to be a challenge, and my mother is...unreachable.

He’d thought this Zen kid must be like the ones he knew on the ice, punching first and asking questions later, complaining about being put in the box. All temper and no temperance, Mama used to say when she drove him home, can’t talk when you got plastic between your teeth.

But then he’d met him, undersized and stick-limbed, living in that house with people paid to be invisible. A kid with too much on his shoulders and too many eyes to watch him stumble under it. He’s come a long way from there.

So when Zen squirms in his chair, red already starting to lick up his neck, Mitsuhide doesn’t enjoy it. On the contrary, Zen’s discomfort is his discomfort, a failure of him to keep the watchful eye on him that Izana asked him to.

But it also doesn’t stop him from adding, “Shirayuki believes that waiting in line is part of the amusement park experience.”

Obi looks as though he’s just been told it’s his birthday and Christmas, all rolled into one. “Of course she does.” His mouth sharpens to a wicked grin. “So you’ll be lowering yourself to the peasant’s lines today, huh, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, swatting him away. “No one’s being lowered anywhere. We won’t be running into any of them so long as we get there early and hit the coasters in the right order.”

Obi coughs. Or at least, makes it sound like he is. “Uh-huh.”

“Where is Shirayuki anyway?” Zen glares at the empty doorway, brows heaving like thunderclouds over the bridge of his nose. “I thought you said you’d get her.”

“I did.” Obi twitches his shoulders; as good as a shrug, from him. “She’s getting ready.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes.” Zen’s glare changes target to him, thunder rolling in the tone of his voice. “Shirayuki doesn’t take this long to get ready.”

When Mitsuhide glances up, chewing around another stab of egg, kale, and chicken, Obi’s eyebrows are already there to meet him. His head tilts, just the barest degree; this is your show, big guy.

Mitsuhide coughs, trying to clear his throat of leaf bits. “Girls,” he starts, the ground sinking beneath him with each word, “like to look nice. Especially when they are on, uh, dates.”

“This isn’t a date,” Zen informs him, more than a little put out. “Obi’s going.”

The sound Obi makes can only be termed as distressed. “I didn’t want to.”

For exactly this reason, is what he doesn’t say. Doesn’t even show it on his face, though it has to be lurking beneath it, considering how he--

Well, considering nothing Mitsuhide knows for sure. But certainly a few things he reasonably suspects.

“Chief.” Obi flips the chair next to him, straddling it. “You know, I really thought it couldn’t be true. I really wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. But to hear you now--” he leans in, one narrow brow raising the same time his voice drops-- “you really do chicken out when it comes to getting chummy with Doc.”

Mitsuhide nearly chokes on his chicken.

Zen’s red all over, like someone pulled him from a boiling pot and put him on a plate. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” he says, so easy. “Doc told me.”

“She said that?” His skin’s so flushed Mitsuhide’s half afraid he’ll pass out, but instead he just collapses against the ladderback, head buried in his arms. “Shirayuki?” 

“Pretty much.” Obi sighs, hands braced on the table. “I mean, is it so hard to say she looks nice when she dresses up? Or that you like her hair, or--” he stumbles, shaking his head-- “no, not the hair. Too loaded. But you know, one of her floaty little numbers. Her freckles. Something.”

“I have!”

Obi lifts a dubiously narrow eyebrow. “Like when?”

“Ah...” Whatever the answer is, it’s not helping his blood flow problem. Mitsuhide nearly opens his mouth, searching for a good way to make himself a target-- “The Big E.”

Well, there goes that plan.

Obi’s inquisition crumples into confusion. “What? When did you--”

Every word ekes into the air with the utmost resistance. “When she was wearing your hoodie.”

“When she was wearing my--?” Gold eyes round to coins. “Chief.”

For a solid minute, that’s the only reaction-- wide-eyed disbelief, earned from two sides. But Obi coughs, mouth twitching, and it’s a snort, a smirk, and--

And then Obi launches himself away from the table, both hands still gripping the edge as he falls apart utterly. The chair’s back keeps him from putting his head between his knees, but spiritually he’s there, tears tracking down his cheeks as his laughs wheeze out of him

One hand finally slaps the table, like he’s asking for a time out. Zen frowns down at him, red finally fading to a painful pink. “It’s not that funny.”

“It is,” Obi squeaks, and Mitsuhide has to shove his last bite of omelette into his mouth to stifle his own noises. It’s no good-- Zen whips around and gives him the same glare he’s been saving for Obi.

“If you don’t cut it out,” he says loftily, “I’m going to let a freshman stay in your room.”

Well, that brings Obi up. “Fine,” he coughs, voice still ragged from laughing. “But still. My hoodie.”

“The sleeves hung over her hands! It was cute.” Zen huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “Fine, if I’m so bad, why don’t you two show me how it’s done?”

There’s a pause, long and loaded; enough that Mitsuhide glances up from his plate to see just what tomfoolery he should brace himself to break up--

Only to find Zen staring at him.

Intellectually, Mitsuhide is aware that Zen is a Wisteria. He met him through Izana, after all; he’s been over to the manor, he’s even met their prodigal mother on one of her rare stopovers between vacations. But when he thinks of the name, it’s Izana who springs to mind, the gears churning behind his eyes.

It’s not often that Zen reminds him of his brother; Cookie’s always said that Izana takes after their mother with that long and lean model build, while Zen has always been Kain’s child. But now, now--

He sees it, and it sends a shiver right through him.

With a quirk of his lips, Zen says, so like Izana that if he closed his eyes he wouldn’t know any different, “You first, Mitsuhide.”

Obi’s mouth curves into a leer. “Yeah, Big Guy. Show us the skills that got you Ms Kiki.”

This probably isn’t the time to tell them that it wasn’t him who got her; Mitsuhide hadn’t been trying to do anything more than be the friend she needed, to be a person she could confide in, could trust. People like that were thin on the ground for girls like her; heiress tended to make men see dollar signs instead of personality. But Kiki--

Well, she had other ideas. Ones he’d only cottoned onto when she climbed on top of him and shoved him against the couch cushions with her mouth.

“D-Don’t look at me!” he manages, trying to busy himself with anything. But there’s only a plate to be put in the sink, and a pan to be wiped. Not enough to fake a decent amount of responsibility. “I’m not--”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Man. Don’t leave us hanging.” Obi leans back, grin so wide it practically splits his face. “Lemme paint the scene. You’re single, Doc is adorable, and she’s waiting there--” he gestures to Zen, who flutters his eyelashes in precisely the way Shirayuki doesn’t-- “for you to make your move. Go!”

He could point out he’s not single, and that he doesn’t have any plans to change that anytime soon-- but that only ends in one way: a two-pronged mockery with additional ridicule provided by the impending arrival of his better half. He could also point out that of all the people in this room, he’s the only one who hasn’t wanted to date Shirayuki, but-- well, the problems with that one were obvious.

Instead, Mitsuhide takes in a deep breath, learns on the counter, and says, “Why, Shirayuki! You’re looking beautiful this morning. Those shorts really flatter your legs.”

There is a long silence, and then to everlasting embarrassment, they burst out laughing.

“Her shorts?” Zen’s hand is pressed to his chest, like he needs support to keep upright. “That’s all you can think of? Her shorts?”

“Well, Obi said not to do her hair,” he protests. “Complimenting her dress seemed like low hanging fruit. I was trying to be unique.”

Obi doesn’t even bother to remain horizontal, sprawling himself over the long forgotten maps. “So you went for her legs?”

“There’s nothing wrong with legs!”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Zen sputters out in an effort to keep his mouth straight. “Definitely a very neutral place to comment on.”

“Definitely not known for being attached to things like asses.” Obi’s mouth twitches, as much a sign for danger as thunder rolling in the distance. “Or puss--”

“I was not trying to comment on that.” He’d felt bad for Zen earlier, but the sentiment doesn’t seem mutual. “It’s not typical, sure, but Kiki never seems to mind when I compliment--”

“Kiki?” Zen squawks. “Kiki?”

“Well, I think we’re all learning a little too much about Big Guy today,” Obi wheezes. “Mainly that it’s Ms Kiki that chased him, and not the other way around.”

“Yeah.” Zen shakes his head, long and slow and solemn, like a doctor about to give a terminal diagnosis. “No game at all.”

Mitsuhide’s not a competitive man. Sure, he was forward on the ice, the kind of player that got sent to the box before the end of the first half and slid right into the captain spot when it was vacant. Aggression is part of the game, competition laced in every turn of his skate and lift of his stick, but that’s a different situation, a different language--

But it’s that part of him that surges beneath his skin right now, that makes him want to saunter over and put both hands on that rickety, painted wood until it creaks. That makes him want to take a full minute to bend down, showing off every centimeter of his one-ninety plus, and ask real low if either of them has made a girl beg on their cock lately, but--

He puts it in its place. That sort of talk always sounded better en français anyway.

Zen waves his hand, slipping his pamphlets out from under Obi. “Anyway, enough messing around. Are you still making omelettes, Mitsuhide?”

“Ohh, omelettes?” Obi spins to him with wide eyes. “Can I get mine with fancy ham?”

Mitsuhide blinks. “Wait, aren’t you going to do your take?”

“Nah.”

Zen shrugs. “Joke’s over.”

“So I just did that for no reason--?”

“I wouldn’t say no reason,” Zen wheedles. “It was very educational.”

Obi grins. “Mainly about how Big Guy likes legs--”

“Oh,” drawls a voice that makes his body go cold and hot at the same time. When he turns, it’s Kiki leaning against the jamb, a single elegant brow raised, excusing amusement and menace in equal measure. “Am I to take it that the show is over?”

“K-kiki,” he stammers. “How long--?”

“Hm.” She saunters over to the counter, slipping onto a stool with a casual grace that still leaves his mouth dry. “Long enough. I have to admit, I was looking forward to seeing a display of Obi’s fabled moves.”

“Ms Kiki,” Obi simpers, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’d be happy to give you a personal demonstration anytime.”

Both her brows raise. “Did I say I was desperate?”

He’s saved from Obi’s answer by Shirayuki padding into the kitchen, flushed and breathless. “Oh, you were right Kiki! Everyone is already ready. Sorry to make you wait.”

There’s a hesitation in the air, and Mitsuhide can’t figure it out, not until he sees-- she’s wearing shorts.

Shirayuki blinks. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kiki hums, sending him a gaze so wicked it should be illegal outside the bedroom. “Do you have anything to say to her, Mitsuhide?”

“No!” It comes out a little too harsh, a little too loud. “I mean, I, uh...like your sandals!”

“Sandals,” Obi snickers, a sound that’s only covered by Zen’s hushed, “Shut up.”

“Oh!” She blinks down. “Thank you. I got them at Payless. I, um, don’t think they make them in your size.”

“No,” he manages mildly. “I don’t imagine they would.”

“You do look real cute, Doc,” Obi chimes in, slinking out of his seat to circle around her. “Did you dress up for today?”

Zen makes a noise, somewhere between a choke and a gasp, but even with the pink brushing her cheeks, Shirayuki’s too used to his antics to do much more than sigh.

“Of course I did, Obi.” Her fists perch high on her hips, cocked as she talks to him. “It’s the last time we’re all going to be going out together, isn’t it? What could be more special than that?”

Mitsuhide may not be a competitive man, and especially isn’t a malicious one, but when Obi’s jaw goes slack, the tips of his ears darkening just the slightest bit, well-- he does indulge in the slightest bit of schadenfreude.

“Well,” Zen says, a little sharp. “Let’s get going.”

“Aw!” Obi whips around. “What about fancy ham?”

“I don’t think you need--”

“Oh, I haven’t had breakfast either!” Shirayuki adds, eyes wide. “Do we have time?”

Zen hesitates, and then with a sigh, relents. “We’ll stop at Dunkies.”

[fallout4reactsblog]

I was wondering if you could do an ask for those of us who don't have family to celebrate the holidays with. Companions react to Sole being upset spending their first holiday season without their family.

Cait: “Do you wish you had someone this holiday, Cait?”

It’s a weird question to come out of nowhere, and she leans around the curio she’s searching through to eye them quizzically.

“Why do you ask?”

They shrug. “I was just thinking about my family and everything, and how I miss them, and I thought I would get your opinion.”

She chews her lip thoughtfully and returns to rifling through drawers. “The way I see it, this is the one holiday I actually do have someone to spend it with. Before you, nobody gave a shite about me, you know?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that.” They laugh a little. “What an odd pair we make.”

“At least you’re not completely alone. You’ve got me, after all. Think of how much worse it would’ve been if you were by yourself.”

“That’s a surprisingly adept observation coming from you, Cait.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She chucks a loose snack cake at them.

They dodge, laughing. “It’s just strangely philosophical, you telling me to focus on what I have instead of dwelling on what I don’t. I guess I can learn a thing or too from you, huh?”

“Damn straight. You should listen to me more.”

“If I did, I’d end up dead.”

“Probably just maimed.”

“Brutally maimed.”

She waves a hand through the air. “Details.”

When they’ve quieted for a moment, she murmurs, “But for real, I am glad to have you, sole.”

Quietly, she hears. “I’m glad to have you, too.”

Curie: She taps the end of her pencil to her cheek as she searches for the right word. It’s not “impossible,” and “improbably” sounds too formal, but the word she wants escapes her. Frustrating.

“Curie?”

She glances up at sole, who’s sitting on the other end of the couch. In the middle, their legs have tangled together, and she looks past them to look them in the eyes.

“What is troubling you Madame/Monsieur?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just noticed you’ve been a lot more affectionate lately. I mean, you’ve barely left my side.”

She flushes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all, I just thought it was strange.”

“I simply thought you would be feeling more lonely this time of year. Holidays can be a difficult time of year for those of us without family to celebrate with, non?”

They narrow their eyes. “Why were you even thinking about that?”

“I was simply reminiscing on my time with the other scientists before the war, and I remembered how lonely it was all by myself in the lab. They were always so happy around the holidays. And I thought to myself, sole is not in a lab, but they are also missing their family. I thought perhaps you would appreciate a little extra support.”

“That’s...” they shake their head. “That’s really sweet, Curie. Thank you.”

“Oh, do not mention it. It is merely a gesture of our friendship. You saved me from my loneliness, and I wish to return the favor.”

“Still, it’s kind. I appreciate it.”

“You are more than welcome, Madame/Monsieur. Anytime.”

Danse: He finds them out on the deck, wind whipping past them as they stare over the Commonwealth. They’ve been distant for days now, giving nothing but short answers, eyes far away when they talk. If he’s honest, he’s worried about them. It’s why he’s ditched the power armor in his bay for the moment; right now he wants to be a person, not a Paladin.

“Evening, Danse.”

They don’t turn to him when he approaches, and he doesn’t know how they can recognize his footsteps outside power armor, but he doesn’t question it. He just leans against the railing beside them.

“Something has been troubling you,” he says.

They sigh, and he can almost see them deflate against the railing. “You know, Danse, I thought that it would be easier than this.”

“What?”

“The holidays. I thought, you know, even though my family wasn’t here, maybe the Brotherhood would help fill that- that emptiness, if even just a little. But I guess it just doesn’t look like that.”

Their words hit too close to home, and he deflates a little, too. “I’m afraid you’re a year too late. With the war, there will be no holidays onboard the Prydwen.”

“Did there used to be?”

He nods, not trusting his words. He can’t tell them that, even though he understands why it’s necessary, it still hurts. They’re still new, still building their trust. He can’t sabotage that.

His silence means nothing, though, as sole seems to read his mind. “You must miss that. In a way, you don’t have a family for the holidays, either.”

Gently, they lean their shoulder to his, and he allows himself to lean back against them, just this once.

“At least we have each other,” they whisper.

He nods. “At least there’s that.”

Deacon: He doesn’t want to say it in such direct terms, but the truth is that sole’s house is a little... sad.

To be fair, they’ve only been in the Commonwealth a few months, and a lot of that was spent trying to figure out what the hell had happened to them and the world, but still. Sole’s place feels entirely like a house, and nothing like a home.

“You know, boss, you should just spend the holidays with us.”

They look up from their coffee mug from their place at their sad table with its sad, lone chair. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, just come live at HQ a while. It’s gotta be better than spending the holidays alone out here.” Slowly, he turns in a circle, as if to emphasize how empty (and sad) the walls are.

“But my memories are here, Deeks.” They blow on their coffee. “This is where I should’ve spent the holiday.”

“Yeah, with your family, if the world hadn’t gone to shit and blown up. But it did, so you should just come celebrate with us. Trust me, you’ll be a lot happier.”

He doesn’t mention the number of holidays he spent in an empty farmhouse for the sake of memory, and thankfully sole doesn’t ask.

“Deacon, are you actually... worried about me?”

“Oh, you bet, boss. I mean, look at this place. It doesn’t even have electricity. You couldn’t have holiday lights if you wanted them.”

“Do you guys do holiday lights?”

He shrugs. “Do you want to?”

For a brief moment, there’s a spark of life in their eyes. “Would it be okay?”

“Who’s gonna complain? Carrington? Just tell him that he doesn’t have to look at them.”

They hum and say, “I guess I’ll consider it.”

That’s his cue to hit him with the ace up his sleeve. “We do a game of Secret Santa, too.”

They try to hide their smile, but they’re bad at it, and Deacon breathes a sigh of relief, knowing they’re sold.

Gage: “Fuck do you mean, you miss them?”

“I mean I was fucking married and had a kid, you eyeless prick. I actually cared about my family, and it sucks that they’re not here. I’m sorry that you cut ties with your family completely, but not all of us can or want to.”

He huffs, because he can tell he’s pushing a little too hard, and if he keeps going he’ll end up wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

“Well, Overboss, trust me when I say you won’t even remember them. We got a bit of a tradition here, ourselves.”

They eye him warily. “Do tell.”

He shrugs. “Not much to say. It’s a party, we get drunk, fuck around, light some shit on fire. It’s a good time. Can’t lay around feelin’ sorry for yourself when you’re lightin’ something on fire.”

“So, Yule. You’ve reinvented Yule.”

“Call it what you want. As long as you have a good time, who cares, right?”

Their face is still doubtful.

“At least give it a shot, boss. You’re gonna have to be there anyway to keep up appearances. Might as well try to have a good time while you’re at it.”

“Alright.” They sigh in resignation. “But if I end up drunk and crying in a corner, it’s your fault.”

“I promise to hide you before you can embarrass yourself.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

Hancock: “Hey, sister/brother, what do you think of these?”

He holds up a couple strands of garland and tosses them over to a waiting sole, still perched on a ladder.

“Shockingly good condition,” they say. “But I think this stuff usually goes on the tree.”

He waves a hand. “You put it wherever you want. I’m just helpin’.”

“Well, do you have a tree?”

“Somewhere around here.” He glances around, but realizing it’s not within direct line-of-sight, shouts, “Fahrenheit!”

“What?” Her voice is muffled by the distance, but her irritation is not.

“Where’s my tree?”

“Wherever you put it last year. I don’t keep track.”

“Damn,” he huffs. “ I thought for sure that’d work.”

He heads into the other room to rifle around for his tree. There’s a beat of silence before sole says, “You know, I never have properly thanked you.”

“For what?” He glares down at the wreath in his hands, which had tricked him into thinking it was a tree, before shrugging and tossing it to the side to get hung up anyway.

“For giving me stuff to do like this. Staying busy really helps me feel less... alone, you know?”

He rocks back on his heels, peering into the other room to make eye contact with them. “Sure thing, sunshine. But I’ll warn you, it wasn’t all my idea.”

They laugh a little. “I figure Daisy had a hand in things, but still. It’s nice of you.”

“I appreciate you assumin’ that I’m not just using you for free labor.”

They laugh again, for real this time, and he can’t help but smile.”

MacCready: He wants to say something. He wants to tell them that it’ll be alright, that he’s been there and it hurts, but you make it out in the end. He wants to be able to comfort them somehow as he watches them duck their head and pretend to not see the decorations in Diamond City, but he’ll be damned if he knows how.

Fortunately, sole has the words where he does not.

“This sucks,” they declare, holed up in the corner of the Bobrov’s bar.

“I’ll drink to that.”

They clink their beers together, sip, and lapse into silence before sole says, “I really miss my family, Mac.”

He closes his eyes, pictures his boy back in D.C., and agrees. “It’s a tough time of year to be without them.”

They reach across the table and grab his hand. “Next year, we’ll go down to D.C. We’ll have found the cure by then. We’ll go see Duncan.”

“Would you really want to go?” His heart is thrilled to hear their words, but his head tells him that might only hurt them more.

“Of course. I want to see you go home and see your kid. I wish we could’ve done it this year, but...”

“That didn’t work out,” he finishes.

They nod.

“You know,” he says, taking another sip of beer, “next year we’ll have a big family celebration to compensate.”

“What, you and Duncan?”

“No, all three of us. We’ll go the whole nine yards. Lights, presents, everything. The real deal, all three of us. Family.”

That brings a smile to their face, and he smiles to see it. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but for a moment he can see the whole thing before him. The three of them together, laughing, making a family out of nothing.

Just make it through this year, he promises sole silently, and I’ll make sure you have a family holiday again.

Nick: He eyes sole in the corner of the agency, where they’re talking to Ellie about some case they’re working. They’ve been talking about leaving these past few days, about heading up to Sanctuary for the holidays. It doesn’t sit right with him. He knows sole, and he knows that only bad things await them at their old home this year.

“Well, I’m headed out.” They breeze by his desk to grab their hat. “Have a nice holiday, you two.

He looks them dead in the eyes and asks, “Why?”

They freeze right where they are. “Why what?”

“Why are you leaving? Got somethin’ real exciting up north?”

Their expression tells him they don’t have a good answer, and he sighs.

“Look, kid, I get it. You think you wanna be alone to mourn and cope with your loss. But I’m tellin’ ya, you’re not coping. You’re just making yourself miserable.”

Under their breath, they mutter, “Damn detectives. Always analyzing you,” before turning to him directly. “Well, you and Ellie already have your thing going on. I’d hate to intrude...”

“You’re not intruding,” Ellie pipes up. “In fact, I already bought you a present. In a way, it would almost be ruder to leave.”

“I bought one, too,” he says. “How about that?”

They hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Bed upstairs is all yours. Stay a while. It’s not like ya can’t change your mind and leave later.”

They turn to Ellie, but she’s just nodding along. “I freshened up the sheets just the other day, actually.”

“Well... alright.”

He lets himself smile.

Piper: “Damn, Blue. This place looks worse than the Glowing Sea.”

Her eyes scan Sanctuary Hills. Even Preston has headed off to the Castle for the month, so the place looks well and truly abandoned. The breeze kicks up as if on cue, scattering a few leaves across the road.

“Isn’t it great?” They kick a pebble across the street, bitter expression on their face. “No family for the holidays, and nobody else, either.”

“You can’t stay here,” she says, staring at the bleak, run-down houses.

They shrug. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go. I could stay at one of the other settlements, but that just feels weird. My home is here.”

Piper shakes her head. “No way, Blue. I won’t allow it. You are not spending the holidays here and that is final, you hear me? Final.”

They glance over at her with a bemused expression. “Then where am I going?”

“Home, with me, to Diamond City. You’ll spend the holidays with Nat and I, not here in, well, this. I mean, at least Diamond City decorates.”

They laugh a little. “Piper there is no room for me in your house.”

“We will make room. This isn’t up for debate, Blue. And don’t start with the ‘Oh, I’ll be intruding’ stuff, either. Nat’s gonna be thrilled to see you, and I’ll be thrilled you aren’t moping around this place that could probably make Takahashi depressed.”

“What, the noodle bot?”

“The very same. Now, go make yourself a sleeping bag, get whatever else you need, and let’s go.”

They salute her mockingly, “Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

Better to be mocked than leave sole here.

Preston: He knows without sole saying a word. He knows that pain, the haunted look that trails them, the way they linger just a moment too long in the doorway of their home before sighing. He can’t help but feel for them, too, because he still feels like he’s in those shoes, lonely around the one time of year no one should be lonely.

Maybe that’s why he does what he does. He tells himself he’s crazy, even as he treks across the Commonwealth, searching out their companions, inviting them to Sanctuary so sole can be surrounded by this new, found family they’ve made. He can’t let sole suffer alone, not this time, not ever. He knows what that loneliness does to a person, and he refuses to ask sole to face it on top of everything else.

He reminds X6 that, if he doesn’t play nice, he probably won’t live to regret it.

He meets Gage at neutral territory and, even though it disgusts him beyond belief, they make a temporary armistice for the next few months.

He tells Danse that if he makes so much as one comment about ghouls, synths, or anyone else, he won’t be able to get all the sand out of his power armor for months.

It’s not the most glamorous job in the Commonwealth, but he is bound and determined to make this thing work, no matter the cost or consequence.

X6: “I don’t think I understand. Your family is here.”

They sigh. “But they’re not, X6. Sure, I found Shaun, but he’s hardly the child I thought I was looking for, and my spouse is still dead. My own son doesn’t even know me, much less would want to spend the holidays with me. I may have found Shaun, but...” They sigh. “Did I find my son?”

He takes a moment to contemplate their words. “You’re quite distressed about this.”

“I guess?” They shake their head. “I’m just lonely, X6. That’s all. I miss my family and having someone to spend the holidays with. It just doesn’t feel the same.”

He looks at them, takes in their tired, beaten expression and their slumped posture. Quietly, he evaluates a series of options and outcomes before leaning in and whispering, “Do you want to know a secret?”

“What?”

“A secret. Do you want to know a secret?”

They slide toward him, dropping their voice to a whisper, too. “Yes.”

“Us coursers aren’t supposed to have holidays. We are not supposed to have a sense of family. You know this.”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps you would like to join us, who also have no family, for a small celebration, then. It isn’t much, but there are snack cakes.”

They look at him, almost impressed. “X6, you know that’s not allowed. Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I trust you, and I think you need us as much as we need each other. I only ask that you don’t report it, if for no other reason than our bond as friends.”

“I- X6, I’m not going to tell anyone. I’d love to go.”

He nods. “It’s settled then. December twenty-second, one in the morning, the abandoned areas behind biosciences. Bring snack cakes, and bring lots if you want to make friends.”

[itsbuckytm]

The jealous Type. | Five Hargreeves x Reader

Warning : None

Type : Fluff

PS : In this, Five is legal and so is the reader.

In which Five is known to be a little possesive when his brother can only spare a time with his bestfriend.

Enjoy 💕

Five knew he wasn’t the best at showing emotions nor expressing them in the right way. The poor boy had a hard time trusting anyone that passed his way in life, that just the fact of thinking about “love” was way out of his league. Or so what everyone thought.

You both had met through the Handler who had first assigned you as his assistant. Of course the two of you being as stubborn as you were did not get along well to the point you had to find any excuses heck even bend on your knees to either work alone or have another partner. The Handler being her usual self was enjoying how her employees were handling and with no surprised declined your offer. Out of luck, you two finally decided to work on the relationship and within a blink of an eye who knew the two of you were found cluddling in the Academy and in Five’s room.

The whole apocalypse situation draining him already, you finally decided to make him finally relax and spend the day in bed. Out of luck it was already raining and the only exit to be allowed was Five’s bedroom to the Academy’s kitchen along with many other rooms.

It never truly got into his mind at first but he had to admit that he did enjoy this day so far. Yet of course being himself, he just didn’t know how to.

Cuddling silently, you could hear his breathing and how touch starve Five was today. Not that you complained about it, you reminded yourself that Klaus was in fact right about his brother and so it happened you giggled to yourself quickly realizing you have woken him up. “Y/n..?”

Feeling bad for doing so you snuggled your head into the crook of his neck, clinging on him, only for him to frown in confusion at first but laughing in return. “Morning love.”

“Morning..” You weren’t technically a morning person nor was he. Pogo out of his generosity decided to leave you some fresh coffee and a breakfast in bed the moment you two decided to wake up. “Woah..” By finally getting up you could hear your stomach and by seeing how good the food looked, a smile appeared on your face making Five laugh. Arms wrapped around your waist not daring to leave the best until he had his coffee first.

Rolling your eyes you leaned to kiss his head, whispering you would bring the tray of food. “Come on sleepy head, move over if you don’t want me to drink all the coffee before you can.”

And without a doubt he obeyed, thanking you as you served him leaning to press a soft peck on your lips, and like a lost puppy savoring the food that was right in front of him. “Look who’s the baby.” You chuckled softly.

Hushing your remark he simply continued eating, while serving you some food. “I would say otherwise if we can talk about what happened last night.” He smirks.

Typical him. You blushed just by the thought of it. “It’s completely sane to be crying over a romance movie! And if I am correct I did see a few tears coming from you to. Mister.”

The day passed and the two of you finally got up from the bed now fully dressed. The siblings were out squatting the Academy the rest of the evening, which completely ruined your plans. Especially for Five.

Soon as Diego entered the room a strange tension was around the two. Either a glare was share or Five’s tight grip around your waist could be seen. Which in returned only made his brother laugh at the irony.

Five often claimed what he owned the most precious in his life. You were one of them and you couldn’t argue other wise. Heck even once Diego commented on your outfit and a big bruise appeared on his face the next day.

He knew he couldn’t control it but with what happened in his life and the amount of people he lost by just trusting them, he just couldn’t. And he for a fact wasn’t planning on loosing you either.

Without even a word Five murmured such as “I’ll be back with the food.” and vanished before he could lose sanity. Only to be then left with Diego in the room.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Diego smiled in which you return while picking up a book to read while Five was out to get some late food. “Fancy of you to. Staying over tonight?”

He smiled at your question, ruffling your hair playfully. For him you were like a little sister and just small affections like these and you knew he didn’t meant as so you often told to Five when he was boiling rage. “Five has not been rising a single fist at me today, that’s a first.”

You laugh at his sarcasm nudging his side. “You know him, with everything happening the apocalypse, saving his family’s sake.” You paused before offering him kindly to stay over. “if your staying over I could call him the restaurant is only a-“

He shook his head and kindly declined. “No no. And I’m sure I don’t wanna feel like a third wheel. Now do I?” He gave you his signature smirk at you and rolled your eyes in return. “You are my best friend Diego, I guess it will just take him a while to finally understand it.”

He sighs and could only nod. “I hope so to. Because his jealousy needs to be controlled more.” He leaned to kiss your forehead and knowing his brother would be here a minute by now, decided to attack you with by tickling your sides. Only to you fighting back as much as you could before the room filled with laughter turned completely silent.

“Well. Looks like the two of you are having a blast.” Five arrived with the bags of food, his glare never leaving Diego’s. “Now dear brother, if you could leave us alone for the night. It would be rather appreciated.”

You sense the tension in the air and by only making it worse you offered Diego to be the guest for the night, but Five being himself declined that offer and began to serve the table as if his brother was already gone in his mind.

Smiling at your best friend you mouthed a sorry as he knew it was his time and left while Five asked for Pogo for help and when he returned a smile of satisfaction could be seen. “Finally, I was starting to almost go insane at the thought of his presence around you.”

Sighing you could only smile. “He’s my best friend you know. You might not like your brother, but doesn’t have any intention behind it and you know damn well as much as I do. Heck I even offered him to stay and yet he declined. If I can accept your relationship with Lila you can sure accept mine with Diego. He is like a brother to me.”

Leaving Five speechless he listened to all of the words you told him. He knew he was only doing this to make you happy and maybe you were right, he did went a little too far. “I’m sorry... You know how I am to the people I love.”

You smiled. “Oh boy do I know.” He chuckled and smirk which made you frown in deep confusion. “So... I am recalling that you were jealous with my relationship with Lila ugh?”

In shock you felt your cheek warm up, looking away before he could cup your face with his hand, leaning to crash his lip against yours into a passionate kiss. Almost out of breathe your lips separated, feeling the heat of your cheeks not wanting to leave only to result itself into shy giggles. “I love you, Y/N. And I am sorry for being so possessive. I’ll try to control it and accept and respect Diego more since he means as much.”

The words touching you said the same on his behalf. Smirking playfully by saying. “I’m not gonna lie I really do like the jealous side of yours. It makes things spicy.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning once again to peck your lips. “Silly goose, god damn I love you.

“I love you to, Five.”

“Now should we eat?”

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 3

Percy's POV

Confession time: I ditch Grover as soon as we get to the bus terminal.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover is kinda freaking me out, looking at me like I am a dead man, muttering, "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to be the sixth grade?"

Whenever he gets upset, Grover's bladder acts up, so I'm not surprised when, as soon as we get off the bus, he makes me promise to wait for him, then makes a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I get my suitcase, slip outside, and catch the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-forth and First," I tell the driver.

A word about my mother, before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting mine and (Y/n)'s dad.

We didn't have any memories of him, just this warm sort of glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. Our mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad; she has no pictures.

See, they weren't married. She told us he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom had told us. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me and my twin on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along...well, when I came home is a good example.

I walk into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN. Chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's Mom and (Y/n)?" I wonder aloud.

"Your mom's working," he says. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

"I don't have any cash," I toll him.

"Here," comes a voice, holding out a ten to the man.

Instantly, a smile sneaks its way onto my face.

"Hey, Perc," my twin sister says with a smile.

(Y/n)'s POV

I grab my brother's suitcase and carry it into his room; I set it down on the bed.

"You wanna come sit in my room?" I ask and Percy nods, a smile still on his face.

I lead the way to my room and when I open the door, Percy sinks into my desk chair.

"Percy?" comes our mom's voice.

She opens my bedroom door.

Our mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Percy or Gabe.

"Oh, Percy," she hugs her son tightly. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas.

Percy's POV

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home.

We sit together on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed. While I attack the blueberry sour strings, (Y/n) stealing a few pieces of candy from the bag, Mom runs her hand through my hair and demands to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She doesn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right? The whole time, (Y/n)'s eyes were sparkling with amusement.

I tell Mom she is smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her and (Y/n).

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?"

I grit my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I try to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I tell her I'm not too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convince myself. I start choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly doesn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum...

"What?" my mom asks. Her and my sister's eyes tug at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

"No, Mom."

I feel back for lying. I want to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I think it'd sound stupid.

Mom purses her lips. Both she and (Y/n) could tell I was holding back, but neither push me.

(Y/n)'s POV

"I have a surprise for both of you," Mom says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin."

"When?" I ask excitedly.

Mom smiles. "As soon as I get changed."

I can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in my doorway and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

"I've got it," I offer, rising from the bed and walking out into the kitchen to make the dip for Mom.

An hour later, we are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch me and Percy lug Mom's bags to the car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her cooking - and most importantly, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, you two," he warns us as I load the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

Like we'd be the ones driving. We're twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame us.

We get into the Camero, me in the passenger's seat, and Percy in the back.

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of the Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half-sunken into the dunes. There is always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

Percy and I love the place.

We'd been going there since Percy and I were babies. Our mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place she'd met mine and Percy's dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turning the color of the sea.

We arrive at the cabin, open all the cabin windows, and go through our usual cleaning routine. We walk on the beach, feed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and much on jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told Mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a small thing at the time. But ever since, Mom had gone out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - alone with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells us stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write when she gets enough money to quit the candy shop.

Finally, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what was always on our minds when we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure that she was going to tell us the same things she always said, but neither Percy and I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom says. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, two. You have his black hair, you know, Percy, and you both have his green eyes."

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy, (Y/n). He would be so proud."

Percy's POV

I wondered how she could say that. What's so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of the school for the sixth time in six years.

"How old were we?" I ask. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But...he knew us as a baby."

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting twins, but he never saw you two. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

(Y/n) and I had always assumed that he had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, we'd always felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I realize I feel angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom. He'd left us, and now we are stuck with Smelly Gable.

"Are you sending me away again?" I ask her. "To another boarding school."

She pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey." Mom's voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth. (Y/n) bows her head, looking at the ground and Mom's eyes well with tears.

Mom takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

Her words remind me of what Mr. Brunner had said - that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal," I say.

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe.

"Safe from what?"

She meets my eyes, and a flood of memories comes back to me - all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me and (Y/n), some of which we'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked us on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed (Y/n) when she'd told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that—a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move.

I know I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I can't make myself tell her. I have a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I don't want that.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom says. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy—the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just...I just can't stand to do it."

(Y/n)'s POV

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask, a little confused.

"Not a school," she says softly. "A summer camp."

My head starts spinning. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me and Percy be born - talk about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I—I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp.

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression that if either of us ask her any more questions, she would start to cry.

I have a weird, vivid dream. It is storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse, and a golden eagle are trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swoops down and slashes the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse rears up and kicks at the eagle's wings. As they fight, the ground rumbles and a monstrous voice chuckles somewhere and beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I run towards them, knowing I have to stop them from killing each other, but I am running in slow motion. I know I am too late. I see the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I scream, No!

I wake with a start.

Outside, it really is storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There is no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom and Percy wake. Mom sits up, eyes wide, and says, "Hurricane."

I know that's crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seems to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I hear a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that makes my hair stand on end.

Percy's POV

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice - someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother springs out of bed in her nightgown and throws open the lock.

Grover stands framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he isn't . . . he isn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night," he gasps. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looks at me in terror - not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she says, having to shout to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I am frozen, looking at Grover. I can't understand what I'm seeing, and I see (Y/n) looking at my friend.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yells. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I am too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I am too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover doesn't have pants on - and where his legs should be . . . where his legs should be . . .

Mom looks at me sternly and talks in a tone she'd never used before, and (Y/n) flinches: "Percy. Tell me now!"

I stammer something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stares at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabs her purse, tosses me and (Y/n) our rain jackets, and says, "Get the car. All three of you. Go!"

Grover runs for the Camero - but he isn't running, exactly. He is trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs makes sense to me. I understand how he can run so fast and still limp when he walks.

Because where his feet should be, there are no feet. There are cloven hooves.

Word Count: 3041 words

[the-insomniac-emporium]

We Don't Talk (About That) [Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader]

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: Affection has never been Cassandra's strong point- neither the giving nor the receiving of it. But when it comes to you, she's determined to try, regardless of the obstacles in her path. Notes: Spiritual sequel to Everybody Talks Too Much, but they can be read in any order. Reader is selectively mute, but ends up talking in this one, partially due to being high on a fever, oops. The reader in this one is also a lil bit sassier than some of my other ones, hence why it has tentatively earned my "blunt teeth sharp tongue" tag.

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

“Seriously? You’re wearing white for this?” Cassandra says, eying you with a look of disbelief. All you can really do is shrug in response. After all, your hands are occupied with your current task: Wiping blood off of the corridor floor. That didn’t leave much room for miming, or writing anything down. “You’re going to fuck up your sleeves, you know that, right?” Another shrug, this time with an added humming noise, just for fun. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why Cassandra was hanging out, let alone why she cared if you got your shirt dirty. It’s not like she would be the one to do the laundry. More than that, she was the one who had decided to punish a maiden in the middle of the hallway.

Still, you would never think to voice your questions, or otherwise indicate your feelings. Not that you had feelings about her, or anything, the mere idea of that was ridiculous. For a completely unrelated reason you find yourself glad that she could not see your cheeks from where she stood. Glad I don’t talk, you think, otherwise I’d probably say something really stupid right now. Instead, you focus on your work, scrubbing hard at the floors. Despite your companion’s warning, not even a single drop of blood ends up staining your clothing. That’s why I rolled up my sleeves first, babe!... And that’s why I don’t talk, you think, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

“That was fast. Sure you didn’t miss a spot?” Cassandra asks, stepping over to where you had cleaned. Before you can protest she’s leaning down to examine the floor. Which would, you know, be fine. If she didn’t have blood (and dirt, and who knows what else) on her gloves, that is. Groaning, you try to slap her wrist, temporarily forgetting your place. Next thing you know she’s pushing you to the ground, on top of you with her hand posed to strike. You flinch, instantly, clamping your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable. But, just as quickly as she had gotten on you, she climbs right off, refusing to meet your confused gaze, refusing to answer your unspoken questions. “You’re lucky that mother thinks you’re useful,” she spat, leaving you with one last angry huff.

“What the fuck?...” You whisper, as soon as you think she won’t be able to hear you. Of all the things she could have possibly done in response… this was the only one you couldn’t justify. There’s only one thing that could possibly help you cope with your confusion: Cleaning. Thankfully, the same person who had just flipped your mind upside down had also left a few boot prints in her path. Humming softly to yourself, you get right back to work, gleefully ignoring what had just transpired.

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

“Why do they do that?” Cassandra snapped, storming into the library, immediately demanding her older sister’s attention. However, Bela does not respond, merely looking up from her book with an eyebrow raised. Frustrated, Cassandra sits down at the table before slamming her fists onto it. At this, Bela sets her book to the side, realizing that she couldn’t ignore this tantrum. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Yes, I do, because they’re the only person you’ve given a damn about in a decade, maybe longer,” Bela replies, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have any clue what you’re complaining about this time. What did they do, hmm? Did they brush their hand up against yours? Make a heart with their hands again? Oh, let me guess, they smiled when you walked into the room.” At this point, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable, much to her own frustration. How often had she come to her sister, in confidence, to have this very conversation? Countless times, and never once with a clear goal in mind.

Just a head full of thoughts of you.

“They touched me,” she admits, after a few seconds of agonizing silence. The words feel heavy and wrong on her tongue, like they were coated in syrup, too sweet to be anything other than sickening. “Slapped my hand away like I was a kid sticking a fork in an outlet, for fuck’s sake! Who do they think I am?” Now those words felt better. Angrier- left a worse taste in her mouth, but easier to swallow.

“That depends, were you trying to stick a fork into an outlet? Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do to impress them,” Bela teases, laughing even when her arm gets smacked in retaliation. “Maybe you should just ask them, then, if you can’t fathom why they might touch you. Or you could simply wallow in self pity for another decade, pretending to hate their guts when really you’re desperate to get laid?”

“When did you get so rude?” Cassandra snaps, standing up with a scowl.

“Oh, probably about the eighth time we had this talk?” Bela replies, quick as a whip, smiling all the while. If she was going to have to endure this sort of thing this often, she might as well have some fun with it. But this appeared to be the end of this particular conversation, with a miffed Cassandra making her exit, once more leaving Bela to read in peace… for a while, at least.

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

She can’t find you. She’s looked just about everywhere, asked every maiden she’s come across, and all any of them had to say were nervous apologies. Where were you? Why were you absent, now of all times, when she had finally decided to speak to you? Curse my luck, Cassandra thinks, barely restraining herself from wreaking havoc on her surroundings. Though maybe they’ll show up to take care of my mess, she muses, then thinks better of it when she imagines your exhausted expression. After all, there was only one place left for her to look: Your personal quarters. If you weren’t there, then, well, there’d be a new problem entirely.

“They better have a damn good reason for hiding away,” Cassandra mumbles under her breath. Then she’s opening the door to your room, not bothering to knock. What could you want to hide from her anyway? “Oh shit.” Evidently she hadn’t thought this through. There you were, asleep in bed, shirtless, a washcloth on your forehead. Every muscle in your body seemed to be shivering, and the occasional weak murmur leaves your lips. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Cassandra to act. Clearly you’re cold, hence the shaking, regardless of how warm it feels to her. So she’s grabbing a blanket from your dresser, quickly covering you with it. “Is that better?”

You don’t respond. Not that she truly expected you to. But the way you continue to shake has her even more concerned, and a trace of panic starts to set in. She searches for other blankets, laying them on top of you, confused as to why you aren’t getting better. C’mon, asshole, she thinks, I’m trying to help you! As if summoned by her frustrations, a maiden soon swings the door open, freezing in place when they see her. Instantly she’s whirling around to face them, a cruel remark dying in her throat. Of course it was one of her mother’s favorites. Eventually, she would have to find someone else to take her frustrations out on.

“Lady Cassandra? What are you-” Cynthia, senior staff member of Castle Dimitrescu, veteran of more than five years, starts to ask. But once she spies the pile of blankets on top of you… well, her eyes go wide. “Damn it, my Lady, you’re going to kill them!” With that said she’s rushing forward, setting down a basket of who-knows-what on your nightstand, before quickly removing the extra sheets. Half confused, half furious, Cassandra stands nearby, unable to decide how to react. Perhaps noticing this, Cynthia is quick to explain her actions. “They have a fever, the worst one I’ve seen in all of my years here. They may be shivering, but trust me, their skin might as well be on fire.”

“I was just trying to help,” Cassandra defends, words rushing out before she can stop herself. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Clearly, and I don’t blame you. Let’s just be glad that I came to check on them, hmm?” Cynthia suggests, giving an oddly motherly (i.e. reassuring) smile. On one hand, Cassandra doesn’t appreciate being talked to like this, at least not by someone other than her mother. On the other hand, well, she is glad that she hadn’t accidentally killed you. Taking a moment to let her heart rate slow back down, Cassandra moves to lean against the wall closest to you. She can’t help but frown when she sees the way your eyes flurry about beneath their lids. What are you dreaming about? Is it a nightmare, she wonders, or something softer, like you deserve?

“Can… can I help?” She asks, voice hardly more than a whisper. It was too late to save herself from embarrassment, but it wasn’t too late to contribute to your recovery. Or at least that’s what she hoped. There’s relative silence for a few moments, as Cynthia thinks over her words, swapping out the damp washcloth on your forehead all the while. When she finally replies, she does not look up from her task. Always the professional.

“Stay with them. If they get worse, come find me immediately. If they wake up, try to get them to drink some water, and ask if they’ve been injured recently. I couldn’t find any wounds on them, but this mess reeks of an infection,” Cynthia says. Opening the basket she had brought in with her, she removes several bottles from within, examining their labels with a tight-lipped frown. “None of these will do shit- pardon my language, my Lady- if it’s an infection, but it should help them fight off the fever until I can get them some proper antibiotics. Well, until the Duke can, that is. Make sure to ask them if they have any allergies to medicine before you give them anything, and please read the directions. They only need to take one kind of pill, alright? I only brought a few kinds in case they can’t have certain ones. Is that clear, Lady Cassandra?”

“Crystal clear,” she chimes, only briefly looking away from you. It’s enough for Cynthia, however, and she leaves with a simple bow. Once more alone with you, Cassandra approaches, gently taking your hand within her own. “You’d better wake up soon. I don’t want to have to babysit you all day…” Doesn’t want to, but would, if that’s what you needed. Wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. At most, she’d make someone fetch her a book to read while she waited. Except… now that she glanced around your room, she found that there were some things to keep her entertained. Like your beloved notepad.

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

What do you mean? I don’t think she feels that way about me. Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t like anyone. Because I pay attention to her! It’s not hard to know what she does and does not appreciate, you just need to observe her. No, not like that, don’t be gross. Keep teasing me and my cheeks won’t be the only thing around here that’s red. Oh fuck off, fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you owe me one. Then the page ends, with the next two having been torn out. A few letters here and there are still legible, on what little remains of the missing pieces. Lov- and want her- and wish. Try as she might, Cassandra cannot find the rest of the pages. What had you possibly written that would make you discard all evidence? It’s not like anyone normally went through your notepad. Had you predicted that one day Cassandra would do this?

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She growls, dropping the object with an angry sigh. “Who the hell were you writing about? Who were you fucking talking to? Why won’t you wake up, you goddamn asshole?” Through all of her shouting, you do nothing but shake in place, shivering against a non existent cold. Several hours had passed since Cassandra’s arrival, without you doing so much as batting an eye. Slowly but surely, she was being driven insane, exhausted from worry and jealousy alike. Strange how the most obvious answer eluded her so consistently… Yet hope does not entirely abandon her, as eventually her tantrum manages to pierce the haze around your overheating mind.

“Shhhhhhh. Please,” you mumble, eyes still closed, hardly aware of anything around you. All you really knew was that someone was being insufferable. Hell, your fever was driving you wild, and you didn’t even think about the fact that you hadn’t spoken out loud in front of anyone for over three months. Later, after you recovered, you would be glad that it was Cassandra who finally heard your voice. “Inside voice, mhm? Sleepy time…”

“Did- did you just?” Cassandra asks, stunned, shaking her head as if it might make her realize she was dreaming. But no, this was real, and you really had just spoken to her. It’s enough of a shock to render her speechless for a minute or so.

“Thanks, babe. Need to sleep this off. Or… no, wait, I was supposed to tell someone something?” You ramble, trying to sit up, a hand instinctively going to hold your head. The washcloth falls off of you, and you stare at it in confusion. Before you can start questioning the nature of it’s (or your own) existence, you are distracted by Cassandra, who has traded her own perplexion for determination. Next thing you know, you’re quietly sipping at a glass of water. Exhausted, despite having just been asleep, you eye the nearby medicine with curiosity. “I’m… supposed to tell Cassandra something, maybe? Fuck, why is it so warm in here?”

“You have a fever, dumbass,” Cassandra replies, once more finding her voice, still too overwhelmed to process what’s happening. “Look, you have to take something for your head, okay? Then we can… then we can talk about your feelings all you want, okay?” Maybe she was being a bit presumptuous about what you needed to talk about. Or maybe she was just, for once in her life, being hopeful. Regardless, she presents the medicine to you, getting ready to ask about allergies. Before she can, however, you’ve silently reached for the Ibuprofen and started opening it up.

“This’ll do. For the head, not for talking. We don’t-” you pause to take the pills, gulping down half a glass of water with them- “we don’t talk about that. Feelings. Makes her get mad, and I don’t want her to be mad,” you say, shuddering a little at the thought.

“I won’t get mad this time. Besides, you don’t normally talk at all,” Cassandra replies, rolling her eyes again. Finally, for the first time since waking up, you take a good, long look in her direction. Suddenly you’re putting the pieces together, groaning in protest when you do. How had you not realized? How deep into this fever were you?... “Don’t tell me you just figured it out, ‘babe’? I’m amazed you’re functioning at all right now.”

“Fuck you, Cassie,” you snap, mostly teasing. If she wasn’t freaking out about what you had said, well, then maybe you didn’t need to say much more at all. “You’ll still like me when I’m awake enough to be too scared to talk, right?”

“Honestly?... I was hoping this would be more of a permanent thing,” she admits, refusing to meet your gaze as she puts away the unused medicine. “But I guess I can live with being the only one who knows what your voice sounds like. So don’t you dare fucking talk to anyone else, alright?” She’s joking now, too, sounding more relaxed than she usually was. Even with your body fighting against itself, you can’t help but laugh with her. Then she’s slowly sitting on the edge of your bed, next to you, watching you with adoration clear in her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, right? Because if you die on me, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“With you as my nurse? I’ll be lucky to last the night,” you joke, pretending to whimper when she gives you a playful slap on the arm. “Nah, nah, I’ll be alright, just as soon as I get some rest. Probably. Maybe you should, uh, stay with me? Just in case.” Next thing you know, Cassandra is pushing you down against the mattress, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then she puts the washcloth back on you, making sure it’s still somewhat cold. Without another word she settles in, leaning against the backboard of the bed, close enough for you to feel her warmth, but far enough that she wouldn’t risk raising your temperature. “Goodnight, Cass,” you murmur, before letting yourself drift back to sleep...

[lupin-the-3rd-case-files]

Blood Seal of the Eternal Mermaid

Target: Heaven and Earth Scales; Yao Bikuni’s Treasure

Absolutely thrilled that this special lived up to the hype. It was actually almost perfect in my opinion. Not only does Lupin get to act like his lecherous thiefy self, he gets to play the part of the hero akin to Castle of Cagliostro. This is probably my favorite version of Lupin we’ve seen. Not only that, it had an incredibly interesting treasure and treasure hunt that moved the story along.

I would like to say to start things off that I watched the dub Discotek did for this special, the one with the part 4 cast which is basically the part 2 cast. It’s my first time in this watchalong getting to see or hear them I’m pretty certain, so it was a blast to get this incredible special dubbed by such a great team. I love the Japanese dub cast, but to me Tony Oliver is the perfect Lupin. I also loved the cameo appearance by Keith Silverstein who plays Lupin the 1st in this, but is better known for playing Lupin the 3rd in the Koike films. Having him play Lupin’s grandpa was a nice nod from Discotek who is responsible for both dubs. I’ll talk more about how much I love Keith Silverstein when we get to the Koike films because I could gush about him all day.

I don’t even know where to start complimenting this special. Perhaps with the pacing? 90 minutes went by so quickly, the pacing was really good. You know when you’re really into a movie or tv show and the end comes so quick and you just want more? That was me watching this. Before I knew it we were at the sealed cave and the story was wrapping up.

I think party of my love for this special can be attributed to Maki and Misa. The one-off girls in each special can be really hit or miss, they’re either really forgettable but not bad, or just really bad. Maki and Misa are both great additions to the cast. I wanted Lupin to actually train Maki she was such a joy, and then Misa as the older sister had a compelling story and connection to the treasure.

If I had to complain about something, and you know I do, I feel like the villain was very weak. His plan is basically the same as most other Lupin villains: get the treasure, make weapons, commit war crimes for profit. Himuro is no different. I also really hated the big incredible Hulk moment he had, that whole sequence felt unnecessary and I hate having forced big dumb boss battles. I had the same complaint about Fujiko’s Unlucky Days when the villain just hulks out at the end for the sake of giving them a big fight at the end. I feel like Lupin doesn’t need a superhero final battle scene, it’s not necessary.

There’s also a great section where Lupin gets introspective and wonders why he does what he does. The special asks the question what is Lupin’s purpose and is he fine without one. The special ends before Lupin can give Maki an answer about why he does the things he does, but I think that in and of itself is the answer. He doesn’t need a reason. Doing what makes you happy is more than enough reason to do it, and for Lupin that thing is stealing.

So we have three treasures. The Heaven and Earth scales show up fairly early on and end up being the map needed to find the final treasure. We see the first scale in the opening sequence at an auction which gets bought (before it gets stolen) for $26 million. I assume its sister scale is probably worth about the same. Todoh mentions that it could be worth more but we’re never really told how much more valuable it could be outside of being a treasure map.

The last treasure ends up being Yao Bikuni’s body. Yao Bikuni was an 800 year old monk said to have an immortal body. Himuro wants her blood so he can make immortal super soldiers. Lupin and the gang don’t really want anything from her. In fact Lupin’s goal is more to find out about his grandpa’s connection to the treasure. So it’s more of a personal thing for him this time around. Ultimately Yao Bikuni’s body is lost along with both scales so no one gets anything except Lupin finding his grandpa’s notebook.

Lupin’s Reward: $0 but finds his grandpa’s notebook

I absolutely loved Blood Seal of the Eternal Mermaid. I’m glad I have it on bluray and the Discotek team did an amazing job with its dub because it’s really something special. Not just the story, but it’s the first of the post 2000′s specials that’s really well animated. I was blown away by how well the animation was. Absolutely beautiful.

Next up is Another Page which I know won’t live up to this special, I don’t think any of them will top this one for me. However we’re nearing the end of my list before I move on to the tv series. We’ll be saving a lot of these upcoming entries for later, particularly the Koike films. I also know that I just gotta get through this next special then I get to see the Detective Conan crossover movie which I know will be a banger.

[lastbluetardis]

And Baby Makes Seven (10/?)

Things don’t always go as planned. Faced with an unexpected pregnancy, James and Rose have to work quickly to get everything prepared for their fifth child, and to prepare their eldest children for a new addition to the family. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: teen, 5200 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 7.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

AO3 | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Now that Ainsley had been let in on the secret of the new baby, Rose and James didn’t need to work as hard to uphold the facade. Sianin, bless her little heart, had no idea what was going on, but was glad that her mum wanted to laze around the house, which translated into Sianin getting plenty of snuggles on the sofa as they watched cartoons.

James seemed to be taking “over-protective” to a whole new level. He jumped at the chance to care for their children, either taking over or joining Rose in all bedtime routines. If a twin awoke in the middle of the night, he sprang out of bed before her groggy brain could even realize Hannah or Maddie had made a sound.

But when she brought it up to him, he flashed her a charming grin that never failed to melt her, and simply asked, “You’re upset that I want to care for my children?”

And really, when he put it like that, her irritation with him evaporated. She had to keep reminding him to let her help, though, lest the twins forget they had a mother.

James and Rose also used the opportunity to place more responsibilities on Sianin’s shoulders, to the girl’s displeasure. Since Rose wasn’t supposed to do most of the normal household chores, James taught Sianin how to vacuum, wash the floors, and a host of other minor but daily tasks.

Rose, though guilty that she was lounging around the house all day when she ought to be cleaning, was glad that Sianin was at least performing the tasks James assigned to her with minimal complaining. 

Ainsley, meanwhile, took it upon herself to help her dad with anything he was doing and to check in with her mum to see if Rose needed anything.

“How long d’you have to rest for?” Ainsley asked as she settled in with Rose and Maddie on the couch for her nightly reading. Hannah was already in her crib for the night, but Maddie was stubbornly refusing to fall asleep in favor of getting snuggles and kisses from her mother.

“A few weeks,” Rose replied, blotting at the drool dripping down her baby’s chin with her jumper sleeve. Maddie scrunched her nose and turned her face away. “We’ve got a follow-up appointment next week to check the status of the bleed.”

Ainsley tilted her head to the side. “Why do you always do that? Make it plural? You said we’ve got an appointment, not I’ve got an appointment.”

Rose snorted. “You’re right. But your dad is joining me at the appointment. Plus, it’s an appointment to check on the baby, who is both his and mine. It feels wrong to claim sole ownership.”

“That’s actually really cute,” Ainsley admitted. She sighed dreamily. “Dad takes such good care of you when you’re unwell.”

A flood of adoration overtook Rose, squeezing her chest until inexplicable tears burned her eyes. She listened to her husband, who was in the kitchen assembling the girls’ lunches for tomorrow. He was humming to himself as he worked, the notes slightly flat and offkey.

“Yeah, he does,” Rose croaked.

“I hope I find someone just like him one day,” Ainsley said with a wistful sigh.

“I hope that for you, too.” Rose kissed Ainsley’s temple. “I hope that for all of my children.”

“How do you think it’ll work with Sianin and her soulmates?”

“What do you mean?”

Ainsley shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine having two soulmates. How can she love two people as equally and intensely as you love Dad?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? Who knows whether Sianin’s relationship with Elena and Juliette will evolve into a romantic one.”

“I suppose,” Ainsley allowed. “But for argument’s sake, how would it work if they decided to let it be romantic? It seems so strange to be involved in a relationship with two people.”

“Strange as it might be to you, it’s normal for others. Love in all its forms is a beautiful thing, remember that.”

“It feels like it would be hard to make sure you aren’t showing favoritism to one versus another,” Ainsley said.

“Well, your dad and I have four children—we love you all with equal intensity and try not to show favoritism. I imagine it’s something similar.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I would want to be in a relationship with more than one person,” Ainsley admitted. “I want one person who is mine, and mine alone.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Rose said. “You need to decide what works for you, just as Sianin will decide what works for her.”

Ainsley was quiet for several long seconds, but Rose could practically hear her daughter’s mind churning. While she let Ainsley think, she used the time to give kisses to the baby in her arms. The baby was finally getting drowsy; she had her cheek planted above Rose’s left breast, and her head rose and fell with her mother’s breaths. Any time Maddie’s eyes began to droop shut, she wrenched them open and gazed up at her mother.

Being the singular focus of her baby’s attention always made her heart squeeze with love and gratitude. She was the whole world to this tiny, perfect little human, and for a moment, as Rose got lost in her baby’s blue eyes, Maddie was her whole world, too.

“Do you think her eyes will stay blue?” Ainsley asked.

“I think so,” Rose said. “Usually if they change, they would’ve changed by now. All of my babies’ eyes started out blue. In Sianin’s case, they turned brown after a couple months. Yours stayed more or less the same color. And the twins’ appear to be brightening… they kind of look like Gran’s, don’t they?”

Ainsley peered down at Maddie. The baby shifted her sleepy eyes to her big sister, and offered a smile that widened into a yawn. Ainsley snorted and rubbed Maddie’s back. The baby grunted and wiggled around before face-planting into the crevice between Rose’s breasts.

“Silly girl,” Ainsley murmured. “Yeah, they do look like Gran’s. How does that work? I mean, I sort of know how it works. But her DNA is half you, half Dad, and yet she has Gran’s eyes. And apparently I look like Dad’s mum.”

“My DNA is half my mum and dad, and your dad’s DNA is half his mum and dad,” Rose said. “There are bits of all of our past family swirling inside of us, and it’s a lottery draw as to which traits get passed on to a baby.”

“That’s kind of neat,” Ainsley said. “It’s so fascinating that so many things have to happen perfectly to create a baby.” She paused, then continued in a rush, “We had the talk at school today. Y’know, how the girls and boys should be starting puberty soon, if they haven’t started already. One girl in my class had her first period months ago, which is mad. She’s nine! They also explained how in a couple years we’ll all be sexually mature and be able to make babies and so we all have to be very, very careful to prevent unwanted pregnancies as we’re exploring our bodies.

“They went over how a baby is made. Just the basics. Y’know, penis in vagina, sperm meets egg equals baby. I didn’t know that men released millions and millions of sperm when they had sex. That seems like overkill, doesn’t it?”

“What seems like overkill?”

Rose jumped at the sound of James’s voice right behind her. Her mind whirred, trying to wrap itself around the sudden turn their conversation had taken, as well as the fact that her baby was old enough to be learning the basics of human reproduction in school already.

“Did you know you made and released millions of sperm at a time when you have sex?” Ainsley asked, her eyes bright.

James was silent for a beat, cheeks pinkening and mouth going slack. He cleared his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah, I did know that. But where did you learn that?”

“They gave us the talk in school.”

“Ah,” he said, wincing.

“Why do you make millions of sperm when only one will actually fertilize the egg?” Ainsley asked, cocking her head to the side. She then glanced down at Maddie, who was drooling into Rose’s shirt. “Er, or I guess two?”

“Actually, it was just one sperm,” Rose corrected.

Ainsley frowned. “But… there are two babies.”

“But they’re identical,” James said. “Genetically, they’re the same. Basically, one of my sperm met your mum’s egg, then that egg divided somewhat incorrectly to begin producing two separate babies with the same exact genetic code.”

“Oh. So your egg accidentally made a clone of itself?”

Rose snorted. “Something like that.”

Ainsley looked impressed. Then she said, “But still. Why make millions of sperm? That’s a bit wasteful, isn’t it?”

“It’s all about statistics,” James answered, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Would you rather try to hit a target with one arrow or many? What if that one arrow is defective somehow? Or your aim is slightly off? By releasing tens of millions of sperm in one go, you increase the odds of fertilization; and the egg can be a bit choosier by only allowing the strongest of the bunch to fertilize it and begin making a baby.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Ainsley said. “What stops all of the sperm from penetrating the egg and creating a million babies?”

“Once a sperm meets the egg, it basically walls itself off from getting fertilized again,” James explained. “When sperm meets egg, a biological cascade effect begins. The woman’s egg recognizes it’s been fertilized, so it begins producing chemicals and hormones that tell the rest of the body to prepare for the oncoming baby. And it shuts down egg production so there’s no chance of multiple fertilized eggs trying to grow a baby after one is already growing. Imagine how cramped it would get in there. And imagine how hard it would be on the woman to have multiple babies all at different stages of development in her uterus. Evolution has figured out how to control everything so that doesn’t happen.”

“That’s so cool,” Ainsley said.

“It is a bit cool,” James said, smiling.

“It’s weird that women are born with all the eggs they’ll ever have, but men keep making more and more sperm ‘til they die. That’s way more efficient. What if something happens to the woman and her egg supply is damaged? At least with men, they can regenerate their sperm.” Ainsley cocked her head at her father. “In theory, you could help make a baby when you’re a hundred, right?”

James choked. “I… well… yes, technically. But my baby-making partner would also be a hundred—well, ninety-five—and since she would no longer be fertile, I wouldn’t be helping to make any more babies. Besides, the… ehm… the quality of sperm deteriorates over time. It’s not usually a good idea to procreate after a certain age. And, ehm… the act of making a baby gets… ehm… more difficult in old age. So… ehm… I’m not sure we’d… that we’d… Although I would truly love to be with your mother in that way in our old age, statistically it’s not all that probable so I’m not really expecting to… not that I wouldn’t want to… but…”

Rose kneaded the heel of her hand into her eyes as James’s gob ran without stop and without filter. She eventually reached over and pinched him. He squeaked, but snapped his mouth shut. Ainsley, meanwhile, was in stitches on the sofa, cackling madly as both her parents’ cheeks blazed.

oOoOo

Two weeks and two days after learning she had subchorionic hemorrhage, Rose walked into her OB-GYN, this time with her husband at her side. Despite the fact that her bleeding and cramping had stopped nearly a week ago, she was a little nervous to see what Elizabeth would have to say.

James must have sensed her anxiety, because he threaded their fingers together and rubbed at the back of her thumb while they waited for Rose’s name to be called. He talked to her about nothing in particular, filling the silence between them. Rose let the soothing rhythm of his voice calm her until Elizabeth appeared in the waiting room and called name, gesturing for her to follow.

“How are you feeling?” the midwife asked as she took Rose’s height and weight. “You’ve lost some weight since I saw you two weeks ago. Nothing worrying, but something to keep an eye on. Especially since you ought to be putting on weight as your pregnancy progresses.”

“My appetite is still finicky,” Rose admitted. “Nausea is mostly gone though. I’m hoping that will help. But otherwise, I feel fine.”

“Any bleeding? Cramping? Dizziness?”

Rose shook her head and stepped off the scale, following Elizabeth down the corridor to an exam room. James followed silently and settled into the chair beside the exam table. An ultrasound machine already sat in the corner of the room, and, familiar with the routine, Rose reclined on the table and exposed her belly.

Déjà vu settled over her as she remembered the utter terror of two weeks ago, certain her midwife was about to confirm her worst fear. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she began to tremble as her mind warred with itself, half of it trying to calm her, and the other half spinning out of control. James scooted his chair closer to her and leaned his elbow onto the table above her head. His warmth and scent surrounded her.

“You’re okay, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“What a cute little bump,” Elizabeth cooed, squirting cool gel onto said bump between Rose’s hips. “Let’s see the cute little baby inside it, eh?”

Rose reached over and grabbed James’s free hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. He bent down to kiss her forehead again, then he brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles one at a time.

“Here we are,” Elizabeth said, tapping a few buttons into her keyboard.

Rose looked at the monitor and her heart clenched at the sight of her baby. They seemed to be about the same size as before, but Elizabeth was pleased with the baby’s appearance.

“They’re rather active,” the midwife noted, readjusting the probe when the shifting baby went out of focus. “Are you able to feel them, Rose?”

“Not yet,” she croaked. She desperately wanted to, though. She wanted that little flutter of life between her hips. She wanted the undeniable proof that her baby was alive and healthy and growing, because what if the scan was somehow wrong? Rose squeezed her eyes shut and focused deep within herself, trying to sense any ripple of movement in her uterus.

Her eyes shot open when the midwife tapped a few buttons and the heartbeat echoed around the room. 

James let out a soft, “Oh,” his grip on her hand turning vice-like.

Rose glanced up at her husband, but his gaze was locked on the monitor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. The sight of them made her own eyes prickle. She would never tire of seeing the awe on his face as he beheld their children. He treated each day with their kids as though it was the most precious gift he’d been given; this baby was no exception, and Rose could already see how in love her husband was with the tiny fetus inside her. She could plainly see him, seven months from now, weeping as he held their newborn for the first time, curling his body around theirs as though he could physically shield their baby from any harm the world might bring to them. She could see him sitting with the baby in the dead of night, half asleep himself, yet holding their small child to his chest as he rocked them.

God, she wanted that, was impatient for these visions to come true. Even though she regularly saw him holding and snuggling the children they already had, Rose was desperate to give him his fifth child and bring completion to their not-so-little-anymore family.

“Our baby looks healthy,” James said, his voice hoarse. Rose blinked away the visions in her mind’s eye and was brought back to the present, where her husband was no longer looking at the baby on the screen, but rather down at Rose. She flashed him a small smile that he returned before he focused on the midwife, his gaze intense. “But how is Rose? How is the hemorrhage? Is she healthy and safe?”

“Let’s take a look at that next.” Elizabeth zoomed out away from the baby, and instead shifted the focus of the ultrasound probe to the gray masses surrounding the baby. “Here we go.”

After taking a few seconds to orient James and Rose to what she was talking about, Elizabeth pointed to a black blob along the edge of the placenta. “Here’s the clot. And yes, it is just a clot now. It appears to no longer be actively bleeding, which is excellent news. The placenta is intact, which is also great news. Sometimes a concern is that the bleeding will cause the placenta to pull away from the uterine wall, but that is not the case here. I am very, very happy with what I’m seeing.”

Rose let out a deep breath. James, too, relaxed a fraction.

“Can I go back to business as usual?” Rose asked.

“Let’s not be hasty,” James answered instead.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Rose drawled, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Elizabeth pursed her lips around a grin. She wiped the expression off her face and said, “I see no reason why not. Obviously you are limited as any other pregnant woman is, and I would try to take it easy for the next couple weeks as the clot dissolves, but yes, you should be able to resume all activities as normal.”

Rose was fairly certain she’d read between the lines correctly, yet she asked, “Sex too?”

James let out a little squeak that had Rose rolling her eyes. Elizabeth’s entire profession revolved around people having had biologically-successful sex. They themselves were here because they’d had successful sex. Nutter.

“Yes, you may resume your sexual activities,” the midwife answered.

Rose nodded. She hadn’t been in the mood for sex lately, too concerned was she with the baby and will following the instructions to rest. She knew that James’s sex drive had mirrored her own in his double concern for her and the baby. While she still didn’t have the desire to drag James straight into bed when they got home, Rose was glad it was at least an option, if the mood struck. She’d find other ways to satisfy James if or when his sex drive returned while hers remained elusive.

“Is Rose okay to travel?” James asked. “We were planning to take the kids up to Scotland for half-term break next week. Probably travelling by train.”

“I’ve been cleared to shag your brains out, but no, the movement of a train will be far too vigorous for my delicate condition,” Rose muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

James flicked her nose but didn’t reply.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Elizabeth said, pretending not to have heard their exchange. “Just listen to your body, Rose. It will do a good job of telling you what it needs. Try not to overexert. Rest when you’re tired. Make sure you’re getting enough vitamins and nutrients. Things like that.”

“Thanks,” Rose said. “And while we’re talking about it, do you happen to have any connections with midwives in Scotland? Near Glasgow? James and I are going to be relocating our family. The move isn’t happening next week or anything; we’re getting the kids used to the area and the house we’ll be moving into.”

“And you say I’m chatty,” James teased.

Rose rolled her eyes.

“Funnily enough, I do,” Elizabeth said. “One of my very close friends. We went to school together. I can send you her contact information, as I don’t have it on hand right now. I can also reach out to her to see if she can see you next week, if you’d like? A consultation visit, mostly, assuming she is taking new patients and is near enough to where you’ll be living.”

“That’d be brilliant,” Rose said, accepting the moist towels the midwife handed to her and cleaning off her belly.

Elizabeth made a few notes on her computer, then printed out another scan of the baby for them, despite them having one from two weeks ago. She also scheduled Rose’s twenty-week appointment, which would be shortly after the holidays. Rose was already impatient for January sixth to be here; it would be the appointment when she and James would learn the sex of their baby, something Rose always loved learning. But this time was the added game of being able to tease James for his apparent inability to produce a Y-chromosomed sperm. As though that was something he could control. (A fact he liked to remind her of often.)

“As always, you can call us if there are any questions or concerns,” Elizabeth said as she walked them to the front lobby. “But I’m very pleased with everything I’ve seen today.”

After thanking her, James slipped his fingers between Rose’s and guided her out to their car.

oOoOo

The following week, James and Rose willed themselves to have endless reserves of patience as they readied their children for the trip to Scotland. It felt like they had to pack up their entire house to ensure they had enough supplies for all the kids, including toys and games in addition to the endless articles of clothing.

Robert, bless him, was accompanying them, to help with child care and to give his opinion on the work they might want done to the manor house. James had reached out to half a dozen different remodeling companies to have them come out and take a look at the work he and Rose wanted done; they were due to arrive at the end of the week, since James and Rose wanted the first few days to walk around the house and make lists of repairs and upgrades that could be done, both internally and externally to the grounds.

The train ride went as well as could be expected when travelling with four children. Ainsley was content to read for the entire journey, but Sianin loudly proclaimed she was bored barely an hour into the trip. The twins were awake and wanting to crawl around, but there was only so much space in the compartment car. James, Rose, and Robert took turns walking a fussing baby up and down the length of the train, introducing the infant to cooing passengers who fawned over how beautiful she was. The passengers were extra delighted to realize they were identical twins.

Finally, the train docked in Glasgow, where the Tyler-McCrimmons picked up a rental vehicle and made the half-hour drive out of the city proper to the manor house.

The excitement at the prospect of permanently living in the “castle” evaporated Ainsley and Sianin’s travel exhaustion. As soon as James unlocked the front door, they bolted inside and began chattering to each other about where their playroom should be and calling dibs on the bedrooms.

“I want this one,” Sianin announced, gesturing to the master suite.

“That one is off-limits,” James said lightly, tweaking the end of her braid. “Available to mummies and daddies only. Same with the guest suite on the other side. That’s for when Gran or Grandad stay to visit.”

Sianin deflated a bit, but perked back up when James reminded her that there were plenty of other bedrooms to choose from.

Rose, meanwhile, immediately began to visualize how she would decorate. The current color scheme of the manor was dark, but not gloomily so. Even still, Rose thought that brightening the wall colors from burgundy to a rich cream or ivory would help open up the space and blend the rooms together. It would also make the house feel cleaner, and with five children tearing it apart, Rose knew she and James could use all the help they could get in that department.

The floors were in excellent shape, having been replaced shortly after Ainsley was born. Robert had come to her and James when he was having the work performed so they could help pick out the color and style of the various hardwood, tile, and carpeted floors in all of the rooms. Belatedly, Rose realized that Robert had done so because he knew this home would belong to them in the near future.

From the foyer, which was lit from the warm glow of the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, Rose stared straight ahead into the formal dining room that used to be a ballroom; the kitchen extended beyond that through a set of wide oak doors that were currently closed. She already knew that the kitchen was huge and open, thanks to James’s grandmother having remodeled it to use up more of the defunct ballroom space. The kitchen housed a long table that would easily fit their large family; therefore, the formal dining room wouldn’t be necessary until they hosted holidays or had friends over. Otherwise, that could easily be a place for the children to do their homework.

To her right was what used to be a receiving room, but had evolved over the last century to be the living room. It was already furnished with a couch, a love seat, and a few reclining chairs placed strategically around a television. A fireplace sat along the far wall, and Rose could already see herself sitting in the rocking reclining chair and nursing her new baby, or snuggling with one of her other four children or husband as the fire crackled merrily beside them. Goosebumps prickled along Rose’s skin at the thought of her and James making love by the fireplace, a vision straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

Blinking away that fantasy for the time being, Rose continued her mental mapping of the manor. Behind the living room was another room that had been a different receiving room—most likely, she presumed, a space for the gentlemen when the ladies had overtaken the first receiving room. Because God forbid men enjoy their wives’ presence.

James’s parents had converted that into a study area for James; Rose thought it would make a nice playroom for their family. It had plenty of room to store the kids’ endless number of toys, and it had a closet where they could keep their games. The flooring in there was currently hardwood; Rose made a mental note to chat with James about replacing it with something softer.

Extending beyond the living room was a narrow hallway that opened up to what had once been servants’ quarters. Rose knew that James’s grandmother had remodeled it and created a larger footprint, converting the area into a spacious a guest suite; it was where Robert always slept when he visited, unable to stomach being in the master bedroom ever since he’d lost his wife.

To the left of the foyer was a long, wide corridor with several rooms branching off of it. One of those rooms was a library that Rose already knew Ainsley would practically make her second bedroom. Rose planned to outfit the room with a variety of comfortable furniture and a desk. Directly beside the library and connected with a door was a formal study; she figured James would like to make that his space, filling it with textbooks and knickknacks and turning it into a place he could mark papers and exams on the weekends or weeknights.

Directly beside the study and again connected through a set of doors was a secondary study. This one was at the end of the manor, and therefore had windows on the two external walls. It was filled with plenty of natural lighting and Rose thought it would make a perfect place for her to set up her art studio.

On the opposite side of the corridor from the library and studies were a series of small rooms. There was a half bath that was mostly just a closet with a toilet and a sink, and two small rooms that Rose genuinely didn’t know the purpose of. They were far too big to be closets, but a tad too small to be bedrooms. Rose didn’t care what they used to be; instead, she planned to make the rooms a nursery: one for the twins, until they were big enough for proper beds, and the other for the new baby. It would be perfect, since the last room at the end of the corridor was the master suite. 

Rose already knew the suite was enormous, yet it took her breath away to behold it. The room would easily fit their king-sized bed and all of their bedroom furniture, and still have room for more. Perhaps they could put a cushy rocking chair in this room as well as the nurseries; there could never be enough cozy furniture to cuddle her children, Rose thought.

There was a giant walk-in closet connected to the bedroom, as well as a double-vanity ensuite. The bathroom, too, was huge, outfitted with a tub and a walk-in shower stall; both the tub and shower had plenty of room for her and James to share, which would be perfect for intimate date nights.

Moving from room to room, Rose catalogued how she would arrange furniture and paint colors that would look good in each room and blend the entire ground floor of the house together. She took note of the flooring, and which rooms should be outfitted with carpets rather than hardwood floors or tile, or vice versa. When she and James helped Robert pick out the floors, they’d only had Ainsley; at the time, she hadn’t been able to imagine having five children. Now, she couldn’t imagine anything differently.

“I can see that beautiful mind of yours at work already.” James came up behind her as she weighed whether the library ought to be carpeted or left as it was with hardwood floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and casually splayed a palm on her lower belly, kissing the side of her neck and sending pleasant tingles across her skin. “What are you thinking?”

Rose leaned into him, tilting her head back to catch his gaze. His eyes were bright with joy and soft with love; she found herself falling in love with him all over again. She turned in his arms, draping her forearms over his shoulders.

“I’m thinking,” she murmured, pushing up onto her toes so that her mouth hovered mere inches from his, “that this already feels like home.”

And though she planted a kiss to his lips as she finished speaking, his answering smile was dazzling.