#poked around and tried logging in a few times and sometimes it held for a few pages

[egginfroggin]

Oh okay good to know that AO3 logging me out isn't due to anything on my end

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XI. Time is Running Out (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7954

Chapter Warnings: Language, Implied trauma, Violence and injury.

You were running. Every corridor connected into another one, each less familiar than the last. The muffled groans and sluggish footsteps got louder with every passing minute, as you felt yourself lose energy. You slammed another door open and ran down the next dark hallway, squinting as the lights flickered dimly to illuminate the dead.

Eventually, you reached a set of double doors and flew through them, not stopping to look back. Your lungs burned as you panted, and your legs felt unstable under you. Quickly, you turned the corner, only to see the dead end it concealed. Your knees buckled beneath you as you let out a sob, hands trembling uncontrollably. The undead closed in on you, swarming the doors and creeping through the crack one by one.

You pressed your back against the wall, scurrying to crawl away as you watched them approach. It was then that you spotted the first walker break through, trudging forward with its legs dragging behind. It was a man. It had been a man. It was tall and large, with a build nearly double your size. Despite the pale greyness of its eyes, you swore that its gaze leered over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

It gurgled as it got closer, blackish blood coming up from its mouth and splattering the floor by your feet. You noticed the wound on its chest, like a gunshot, that oozed each time it took a step. It got closer, reaching out a grubby hand and gripping onto the collar of your vest. You let out a scream as its snapping jaws hovered above your face, almost as if trying to say something. Yet, all that came out was watery groans as the blood spattered onto you. Despite it being dead, you almost felt its breath over your cheek before it lunged.

You bolted upright in your sleeping bag, bringing a hand to your face and neck to check the skin there. Heaving, your chest swelled as you gasped for breath, and your ribcage felt like it might burst open from the force. You whipped your head around, taking in the surroundings of your tent. The yellow canvas walls remained the same as they always were, and your polaroid string hung above you like a faulty dreamcatcher.

As you tried to regulate your breathing, you wiped your forehead and the back of your neck, trying to soak up some of the sweat that had formed there. It was the same nightmares as usual. You'd been having them for a few days following the incident at the bar - especially since Randall still remained in the Greenes' barn, not even a few minutes walk from where you slept.

The light stung your eyes and you rubbed the corners of them forcefully. Your sleep was usually disrupted, and you'd wake up periodically in the nights - so you often slept in now as a result. You hadn't told anyone about it, but you didn't have to. Daryl had noticed. The two of you had become closer after the incident, with him looking out for you a lot more than he usually did. He made sure that you didn't go anywhere near the barn, and had a lot to say when Rick decided on sparing the boy held prisoner within it.

In truth, Daryl had been your comfort these last couple of days. On the nights where you woke up in tears, drenched in your own sweat, he'd be conveniently sat near the firepit when you came outside to get some air. He'd say that he was keeping watch, but wouldn't go back to bed when you offered to take over - always waiting until you left, first. Even in the daytime, after you'd come around following a bitter cup of coffee, he wouldn't push you away if you wrapped yourself around his shoulders or grabbed his hand excitedly to show him something.

Sometimes, he'd even let you crawl into his tent when you wanted to ramble, listening for a while before his patience met its limit and he kicked you out. Still, you weren't sure what you'd have done without him. The sight of that shy smile of his, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he thought no one was looking - that was enough to keep you going when you had your doubts. Before you knew it, you realised that you would give anything to hear one of his shallow laughs, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself to pay for it.

Once you had settled down a bit, you pulled on a pair of jeans over your legs, to go with the button-up shirt you had slept in. Your curly hair was matted from the sweat, so you tied it up and away from your face rather than even attempting to comb out the knots. You were sure that you looked a bit of a state, but you didn't give it a second thought as you unzipped the yellow submarine and stood out into the morning air.

It had started getting a little colder, the dew collecting on the grass and forming little droplets that wet the toes or your boots. There was a slight chill in the air, where the breeze had picked up, but it wasn't quite cold yet. Still, you huddled the material of the shirt closer to your body and folded your arms, looking at the archer who sat a few feet over from you.

He glanced up for a second and gave you a curt nod, drawing his eyes away from what he was doing.

"You look like hell." He noted, not even looking at you as he said it.

Daryl sat on one of the tree stumps near the fire pit, head hanging down to focus on his hands. He had a rusted pocket knife in his palm, and was using it to sharpen one of the arrows he was making. You'd seen him do it before, watching mesmerised as he worked with the efficiency of a master craftsman. His hair seemed to be getting longer, compared to when you had first met him, and now draped a little in front of his eyes when he looked down. A few nights ago you'd teased him and asked if he was growing a mullet, but in reality you rather liked it.

You shot him a wide grin, dusting off your jeans as you took a seat beside him, ruffling his hair between your fingers in greeting.

"Then you must be heaven, angel." You winked, hoping that the teasing would distract from the grogginess of your voice. "Good morning." You added, seeing him shake his head at you.

He didn't grumble nearly as much at your jokes anymore. Sometimes, he'd even make some back. You enjoyed the playful banter, and the way it made your heart race when he let out the occasional deep laugh at you.

"You still wearin' that?" He asked, not even looking up.

You realised that he was referring to your button-up flannel shirt - the one he had given you. Most nights you slept in it, but you avoided wearing it in the daytime in case people noticed who it originally belonged to. In your half-awake state you must have forgotten to change out of it.

"Problem?" You quipped back too quickly, and you saw him roll his eyes at your defensiveness. "You said I could keep it." You reasoned.

Daryl hummed in response, blowing the wood shavings away from the stick he'd been carving.

"Looks like a dress on ya." He drawled, finally shooting you a sidewards glance and raising an eyebrow as he did so.

You beamed a smile at him, running your fingers over the material that draped down almost to your knees, and remembering how it had looked on him.

"And?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's comfy." You explained, before asking why he minded so much.

He ignored you, continuing to shave down the arrow in his hands carefully. You didn't relent, standing up so that you were directly in front of him, and giving a small twirl to show off the shirt.

"Are you missing it?" You teased, trying to prompt him to look up. "Do you want it back?" You poked, walking around the log he was sitting on so that you were behind him while he worked.

Daryl let out a small sigh at your antics, putting down the blade and resting the arrow beside him. You didn't give him time to turn around and scold you, slipping your arms over his shoulders and around him before he could. Your chin rested just above the crook of his neck, and you could feel the wisps of his hair tickling at your cheek.

"What would you do for it?"

You'd wanted to joke with him, but it came out like more of a shy whisper as you lost your nerve. Your cheeks were nearly pressed together and you could feel the heat radiate off his skin. His heartbeat was quick beneath your palms where they rested, clasped over his chest. It felt like you had handfuls of butterflies, fluttering nervously there. You suddenly felt your own pulse pick up, as your playfulness started to seem a lot less innocent than it had only a few moments ago.

Someone cleared their throat from behind you, and you instantly flung yourself back from the man in shock. It was clumsy, and you'd almost taken the archer with you as you slipped on the damp grass beneath your feet. Daryl shot you a glare after he had recovered, grumbling about how you'd almost choked him.

You heard a chuckle and turned to see Glenn watching the exchange, his baseball cap in his hands. Quickly, you fumbled out an apology which sounded more like an excuse, explaining how he'd startled you. He shook his head before giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry to interrupt." He started, looking between you and Daryl. The other man stayed silent, going back to his work like he'd never taken a break from it. "Could I borrow you for a minute?" Glenn continued, gesturing to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before he explained. "I'm doing some work on the RV with Dale. We could use some help and everyone else is busy."

You looked over at Daryl, and then back at Glenn, before agreeing. You gave the man a small wave as you said goodbye, not really sure of how to act around him now. You didn't know whether it was what you had done that made you shy, or the fact that Glenn had caught you doing it. In truth, you hadn't really planned for anything to happen, but you got caught up in the moment without realising it. You tried not to think about what could have played out if Glenn hadn't showed up.

Daryl gave you a quick nod as you left, and you and Glenn started walking towards the RV. In the distance, you could see Dale lounging on the roof of the vehicle, under his parasol like usual. He had his binoculars in his hands and gave the pair of you a wave when he saw you together.

"So," Glenn dragged, catching your attention, "what was that?"

"What was what?" You bit back, feigning ignorance.

The man didn't buy it, knowing you better than your cheap lies by now.

"You know what." He said, with an air of certainty about him. "You and Daryl, just now."

You stayed silent, not wanting to give anything away. In all honesty, you weren't sure yourself about what had happened back there, and didn't really know how to answer. If you were being truthful, you definitely felt something for the man. You had done for a while. Daryl, on the other hand, you weren't sure about. How long had it taken him just to be accepting of your touch, and not shy away from your hugs? How many hours had the two of you spent together before he stopped looking at you with distrust, or flinching away if you moved too suddenly. At this point, you were content with what the two of you had. Or, you tried to convince yourself that you were.

"I saw that whole thing back there." Glenn carried on, catching you lost in your own thoughts.

"Yeah?" You questioned, giving him a side-eye glance as you smirked. "Well I see you and Maggie sneaking off to the stables at night, but you don't hear me saying anything about it."

Glenn inhaled sharply beside you, seeming to choke on whatever reply he had planned. You let out a snort at his expression, and clapped your hand over his back as the two of you reached the RV.

"Choose your battles carefully, Rhee." You warned him teasingly, watching as he squirmed under your touch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The three of you worked together on the RV for a while before taking a short break. It was mostly Dale instructing you to pass him tools and run to ask Hershel if he had the things you were missing. You were pretty clueless when it came to any kind of vehicle, so you tried to absorb as much as you could, mentally matching the names with all of the parts that Dale showed you. Glenn seemed to know much more, having spent a lot of time with the older man during the day. Surprisingly, you all got along really well and even cracked some jokes as you scrambled to remember which screwdriver head was which.

Glenn eventually excused himself to go and help T-Dog out with something, and Dale left you 'in charge' of the toolbox, as he put it, as he left to go with him. You hadn't been there long, sitting on the steps of the trailer in a daze by yourself, before Maggie had come out of the farmhouse with a pitcher of lemonade for you all. She sat down next to you, offering you a glass. You took a gulp, feeling the coolness run down the back of your throat as the ice cubes hit your teeth. It was really refreshing.

"Glenn told me about you and Daryl this mornin'." She looked over at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes at her, wondering when the man had even had time to say anything. He'd only gone into the farmhouse for all of five minutes to use the bathroom, before you all had started work on the RV. That boy never ceased to amaze you with his ability to run his mouth. You already felt exasperated by all of the questioning, and you hadn't even begun to start answering your own yet.

"There's nothing to tell." You corrected, but her smile didn't let up. "I already warned your boyfriend to worry about his own dirt, instead of trying to dig up other people's."

You shot her a look that you thought would tell her to drop it, but she didn't take the hint. Or, she didn't care to, more accurately.

"He thinks you're sleepin' together." She said matter of factly, taking a sip of her own lemonade nonchalantly and ignoring your expression.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, totally not expecting those words to come out of the mouth of a farmer's daughter. Then again, you knew what she and Glenn got up to when they thought nobody else was around.

"Maggie!" You gasped, slapping her shoulder.

The lemonade spilt out of the top of her glass slightly, and splashed onto her jeans.

"What? I didn't say it." She frowned at you, wiping the stain. "Can you blame him?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

You usually felt like you could talk to Maggie about anything, and rarely got embarrassed at any of the details she shared with you, either. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a bit dumbstruck at the allegation. The thought of you and Daryl - sweet and shy Daryl Dixon - sleeping together had just tipped you over the edge like lemonade in a glass.

Maggie went on, ignoring your stunned silence. "The two of you got ya tents away from the rest of your group, and hang around each other most of the goddamn day." She pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of your camp in the distance.

"That's not fair." You pouted. "He's my friend, and I spend the same amount of time with you and Beth as I do him." You defended, but she crossed her arms and gave you a once over - making an obvious point of looking you up and down.

"You're wearing his shirt." She said flatly, glancing at it like she'd been waiting to bring up the observation for a while now.

"And some days I wear yours!" You retorted, raising your voice in desperation.

You stood up from the step, and Maggie laughed at how flustered she'd made you.

Before she could add anymore, you spotted Glenn walking back to the RV with a dumb smile on his face, totally oblivious of the chaos he'd caused. You shot him a glare, causing Maggie to look over in his direction.

"Glenn Rhee, get your ass over here now!" You yelled at him, and watched as his face fell.

He looked over at Maggie, who just shrugged her shoulders and collected the empty glasses. She gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something about him being on his own, before leaving to return to the farmhouse.

"Ah shit." He muttered below his breath, looking over at you with a sheepish smile.

You stayed by the RV well into the evening, after chewing out Glenn and sending him on his way. You'd offered to put all of the tools back since Dale wanted to go out for a walk and check on the fences around the area. He gave you a warm smile as he left, offering you a 'thanks, kid' that reminded you of your own grandfather. You didn't even try to argue back with him that you were in your twenties, just sending a smile his way in return.

It was already dark outside, since the seasons were changing and making the world seem more shadowy at earlier and earlier hours each day. You had borrowed a jacket from Beth the last time she came out, handing you a sandwich in place of the dinner you'd skipped. The air was chilly and you were grateful for the extra layer protecting you against the cool night's kiss. The breeze rustled the leaves and made a few flutter down to the ground, next to your feet.

It was peaceful, and you could see the warm light flicker through the windows of the Greene farmhouse. The rest of the group were out doing perimeter checks and mending some of the fences, so it was just you standing as the sole guard of a rundown RV. Once you had finished organising the array of screwdrivers back into their meticulous places, just as Dale had instructed, you closed the toolbox and secured it shut by the latch.

You sat back onto the step, rolling your stiff shoulders and wishing that Daryl was here to give you one of his Spartan massages that hurt so bad but felt so good. You scarcely had time to relax before a scream had you bolting upright and alert. It was in the distance, you could tell, but it was definitely a scream.

Immediately, you rushed inside the RV to retrieve one of the pistols from the gun bag there, before setting off running in the direction of the yells. It didn't take you long to notice the group that had gathered near the end fence of one of the fields, close to the woods. You kept your pistol lowered in your hand as you jogged towards them, still not able to make out what they were all crowded over.

As you got closer, you saw how Lori was shielding Carl from the scene and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to witness. It didn't take long before it came into view, the sight of Dale on the ground and the dispatched walker beside him. It was horrifically graphic. The man you'd been joking with not even an hour before now laid there with his entire chest cavity exposed. It was so violent that you weren't able to tear your eyes away as he gurgled the familiar sound of death from his throat, like the one you heard in your nightmares.

It looked as though his ribs had been pried open and you could only watch as the older man suffered. His eyes met yours, pupils wide and dilated as he tried to speak. You stared back helplessly before someone stood in front of you, blocking your view. The printed angel wings told you who it was before you even looked up.

You watched the ground as you heard the familiar cocking of a pistol, and your eyes rested on the fishing hat that had fallen a few feet away. Images flashed through your mind of Dale wearing it, and him putting it on Carl's head occasionally to swap it out with his sheriff's one. You kept your gaze on it, lying abandoned in the grass, as Daryl spoke to the man.

"Sorry, brother." He said, and pulled the trigger.

That night you returned to your tent alone, trailing slowly behind the others, and thought about that hat and the man who wore it. Glenn had picked it up and taken it with Rick and Shane, as they went to dig a grave for Dale. You kept thinking back to a few days ago, and how you'd all sat around the fire of the main camp, spread out on the deckchairs one night. Even Daryl had joined you, as you had bribed everyone to endure your company with the promise of Jack Daniels.

You brought the bottle with you in your satchel, taking a seat by the fire pit next to Dale, who shook his head when you took it out. You offered him a small smile and shrugged, telling him that you'd come across it whilst scavenging with Glenn and Maggie. As the others arrived, you poured some shots to whoever wanted any, and made them swear not to tell Hershel.

The night had been a small dose of escapism washed down with whiskey. There wasn't enough for you all to get completely drunk, but the tipsiness definitely settled in and got you all loosened up and giggling. At some point, Glenn had devised a game that resembled 'never have I ever,' but even got the people who weren't drinking involved.

Much to Dale's dismay, the slightly buzzed man had pulled the hat from his head and stated that whoever wore it had to answer one question completely truthfully. The fishing cap then made its way around the circle, as you listened to Shane talk about stealing a car, T-Dog's videogame collection, and how Carol had once put laxatives in Ed's coffee.

"You're kidding!" Andrea yelled in disbelief, when it was finally your turn. "There's no way you have a tattoo."

"I do." You smiled, taking a sip of your drink and feeling it numb the back of your throat. "And no, I'm not showing it to you." You winked at her, causing the group to laugh.

"It's in a risky spot, ain't it?" Shane teased, looking over his glass at you with a cheeky grin.

"No!" You shouted at him, which gained even more laughter from the onlookers.

Shane shook his head at you with a smile. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Lori piped up from where she sat. She wasn't drinking, now that she was pregnant, but she seemed content enough from the atmosphere.

"I can't believe you have one." She spoke, looking you up and down slightly as if trying to guess where it was. "I never pictured you the type."

You snorted at her words. "What? Just because I was a teacher for a short while?" You teased, crossing your arms.

People usually made the same assumptions about you, even before the world had ended. You had an education from a prestigious university, bright eyes and that naive look. It was only natural that most people didn't consider you as the type to hang around at rock concerts with your father or work part-time shifts at the bars he played at when they were understaffed.

"I have fifteen piercings, too." You added, feeling generous with your information.

Rick shook his head at you with doubt, and you found it refreshing to see the sheriff look so relaxed.

"What? Where?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at you. "How come we haven't seen them?"

"Because I keep my hair down most of the time." You explained, before tucking the strands behind your ears to reveal them.

A few members of the group came over to get a closer look, and you grinned like an excited puppy, showing off the metal jewelry to them.

"And I have my belly button done." You added, pointing to your stomach but not lifting your vest to show them.

T-Dog watched you with suspicion across the campfire, as if he couldn't entirely figure you out. His eyes were narrowed and you shot him your best grin as he stared you down half-heartedly.

"None of this fits my image of you." He admitted, and a few people agreed.

You shrugged your shoulders, pouring yourself another shot and not caring whether or not you should slow down. You felt better than you had in a long time. Even though your head felt a little fuzzy and your throat burned each time you knocked your glass back, you couldn't put a price on the laughter you all shared and the memories each of you recalled.

"What do you want me to say?" You asked sarcastically. "Pretend that I spent most of my time at libraries and not gigs, listening to Led Zeppelin?"

You heard a low chuckle beside you, as Daryl took the bottle from your hand and poured some more into his own glass.

"Thought you said you were borin'." He drawled, his accent even thicker from the whiskey.

"I am now!" You said loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat.

The others laughed a bit at that, before you went on, prying at the other man who had refused the hat of truth when it came his way. You'd tried to force it on that stubborn head of his, but had only succeeded in spilling one of the glasses and getting a scolding from Lori.

"What about you, Dixon." You eyed him where he sat. "I can't even imagine you existing before all of this." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued. "It's like you were built to survive an apocalypse."

You saw the others nod in agreement, staying silent to listen for the man's response. A few of them had seemed surprised that Daryl was even participating, and now looked even more confused at how the two of you interacted with each other.

"What d'you mean?" He asked, taking a swig from his glass.

You smiled to yourself before answering. "I don't know." You confessed, before addressing the rest of the group. "Can the rest of you picture Daryl Dixon mundanely watching TV, and eating pizza instead of squirrel?"

That joke got a lot of approval from them, as you saw Carol let out a snort in the corner of your eye, holding onto her own small drink with both hands.

"Shut up." Daryl grumbled in response, but you saw the slight smile that lingered on his face.

After that, you had placed Dale's hat back on the older man's head and gave him a hug before turning in for the night. You felt giddy from alcohol and good company, and had squeezed him tightly before telling him that no one else suited that old, raggedy fishing cap as much as he did.

The next morning after Dale's death was hard, but you'd all had practice in dealing with death by now. The funeral was carried out quickly, and Rick made a speech about how the group needed to honour Dale by being more in sync with their decisions - referring especially to Randall. You all then gave a few words, and said your goodbyes. Glenn had made a small wooden cross as a marker for his grave, and hung the fishing cap on top of it at the end of the informal ceremony.

After that, the Greenes had tried to distract you all by telling you to pack your things up and prepare to move into their farmhouse for winter. Given that they'd become a lot closer to you all in the last few weeks, and that Lori was now pregnant, they said that it was only reasonable. It would be a bit of squeeze to fit you all in, they admitted, but it would be better than freezing outside in flimsy tents exposed to the elements.

So, there you were, collecting your belongings and putting them into your worn satchel with care. You didn't have much, save for your polaroids, some clothes and your knife. The only things you had left to pack down were your sleeping bag and your yellow submarine, so you decided to go and check how Daryl was doing before you continued.

The two of you hadn't had much time to talk about the events of last night, barely exchanging a few glances and letting your palms brush against each other during the funeral. He'd gone through a lot in the last couple days, being left with the dirty work of torturing Randall and having to shoot Dale. Even if he seemed alright, you thought that he probably held some guilt for what had happened. You knew that you certainly did. You spent the night wondering why you hadn't gone with the older man, wishing that you'd gotten there sooner.

You clambered out of your tent with your satchel strapped over your chest, before walking a few steps over to Daryl's. His tent was unzipped, and you poked your head around the entrance to see him crouched inside, collecting his arrows and the few possessions he had scattered around. You watched him in silence for a moment, as if trying to find any sign of distress before he noticed you.

"Don' worry yourself, Sunshine." The man grumbled, sensing you.

He didn't even look up from what he was doing, which made you jump in surprise at having been caught.

"Jus' go pack down yer own tent." He instructed, folding up a pile of his clothes and stuffing them into a backpack.

"Sunshine?" You questioned, wondering whether or not the nickname was sarcastic, as you continued to watch him with suspicion.

You crouched down in the entryway, debating whether or not to go in.

"Look, Daryl-" you started gently, but he cut you off midway.

"'M fine." He said sternly. "Don't need no therapy session every time one of us kills someone."

You let out a sigh, deciding to go inside. You crawled your way past him, making yourself comfortable on top of his sleeping bag while he worked around you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on making it a habit." You admitted gently, seeing him stop what he was doing and look over at you.

"Ain't about what ya want. It's about survivin'." He corrected gruffly, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a sad smile before responding. "I know. But I don't want to live like that." You said. "There's a difference."

He shook his head, sitting back so that he was opposite you.

"Ain't no difference when yer dead." He muttered, and you could make out the slight flicker of pain behind his eyes.

You looked down to your hands, gathering your thoughts. You weren't sure whether you wanted to make yourself vulnerable to man by telling him your true feelings on the matter, but you felt like you needed to. You owed him that much.

"When I was out there alone, before I found you that day-" you started, recalling the days that seemed like a lifetime ago to you now. "That was surviving."

The man listened to you silently, his stare heavy as he took you in.

"At first, I was just grateful to be alive." You admitted, feeling ashamed to say the words out loud. "My camp, they were the brave ones."

You saw as Daryl started to shake his head to disagree, but you didn't let him interrupt.

"I just ran away and hid." You confessed, voice small as you said it. "After that I realised how unfair it all was."

Daryl stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding.

"What was unfair?" He asked, his words gravelly.

You met his eyes, already feeling like you'd revealed too much to him.

"How us cowardly would always be the last ones standing." You said softly, looking back down at your hands and thinking of all the people they failed to protect.

This time, Daryl responded quickly, moving closer to you so that you heard his words clearly.

"Ya ain't no coward." He spoke, his face near yours as he tried to catch your gaze.

You met it, fighting the urge to look away as the intensity made you want to tremble.

"You're a force, Teach." He told you, like it was a fact.

He stared at you for a few seconds, as though waiting for you to accept it.

You nodded at him eventually, letting out a small sigh as you realised that you'd been holding your breath.

"I don't want to just survive anymore, Daryl." You told him. "I want to live. I want a life that I'm okay with fighting to protect." You continued, feeling your voice grow stronger with each passing second.

Daryl remained still where he sat, giving you his entire attention.

"I know you hear me at night." You confessed, thinking back on the times you'd woken up yelling at invisible figures, or panting to try and catch your breath.

You caught his eyes flicker, as he fidgeted a bit and stretched out his legs.

"You pretend like you don't, but I know you do." You went on. "When I wake up from a bad dream you've always got your lantern lit, or sometimes you'll get up just to toss a log on the fire, and make an excuse that you can't sleep."

You smiled to yourself as you watched him feign ignorance, as though he needed to keep up an act you both knew had broken. No matter the type of man Daryl Dixon pretended to be, you saw straight through him.

"I'm at a point where I don't regret it anymore." You continued, not really sure where you were going with your speech. "Killing those men." You clarified, seeing him tense as you did so.

"I know it makes me sound like a monster, but I'd rather let the nightmares haunt me if it means that my family won't."

You took a deep breath, wondering if you should carry on to the point where there was no turning back.

"If it means that I can sit here now, with you, and be thankful that I was the one who managed to pull the trigger first." You finished, afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

You felt entirely exposed to him, as you sat there on the scratchy material of his sleeping bag, running your hands over it for comfort.

"Is this it?" He asked after a few seconds.

"What?" You replied, watching as he shuffled about in front of you.

"Is this the life you want?" He muttered, his voice coming out strained.

You nodded your head. "It can be." You told him. "It is." You reiterated, more certain this time.

You felt like all of your thoughts and worries were spilling out before you, like tipped ink spreading over paper. You couldn't stop yourself from telling the man everything.

"We've lost people," you acknowledged, not missing the way he frowned as you said it, "Dale and Sofia." You continued. "We'll probably lose more."

"But, call me delusional, I still have hope." You said with a smile, wondering if you truly were fooling yourself.

Daryl seemed to think so too, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"What're ya hopin' for?" He asked.

"I don't know." You answered.

"Some days it's for a cure to be found." You said, wistfully. "Others it's that we can all live peacefully on this farm until we grow old. Sometimes, I just want to find a matching pair of socks in my laundry." You finished with a slight chuckle.

"And recently, I've been hoping that it rains." You added, hoping that he wouldn't laugh at that one in particular.

He didn't, instead glancing out of the tent, towards the clouds gathered above it.

"Give it a couple days." He mumbled, and you didn't doubt him for a second.

"Yeah, I hope so." You responded, looking up at the sky, too.

You sat in his company for a bit longer as he resumed his packing like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to have much, either, but you still watched curiously as he went through it. After a short while you noticed him pick up a glossy magazine, and put it in one of the bags. You instantly recognised it as the one you'd given him before, from the gas station, about motorcycles. You were surprised that he'd kept it, since it had been a few weeks since then.

"Did you read it?" You questioned, before you even realised you had said it.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, matter of factly.

"And?" You pried, stretching out your legs to laze back further on his sleeping bag. "Got any tips for me?"

He scoffed at that, shooting you a glance as he zipped up the bag. "Don' fall off."

You rolled your eyes at him, before deciding to tease him back a little.

"Mark my words, Dixon." You pointed at him. "One day I'll be the one riding that thing and you'll be clinging onto me."

He didn't bite to it, sitting back down opposite you with a smug look on his face.

"You tryna give me nightmares now?"

When he finished, you reached for your satchel lying next to you, remembering one of the reasons you had come to see the man in the first place. You pulled out his flannel shirt from it, which you'd neatly folded earlier on, and offered it out to him.

"I was thinking that I should probably return this to you." You explained, as he gave you a confused look.

"Thought ya was gonna use it to bribe somethin' outta me." He quipped, snarkily.

You nodded at him, rubbing your thumb over the material.

"Yeah, I thought about it." You admitted. "But then I realised that we were all going to be staying in the Greenes' living room together from tonight. Practically on top of each other."

Daryl stared down at the shirt in your hands, but didn't take it from you. Instead, he leant back on his knuckles, as if moving even further away from it

"What's that have to do with 'nything?" He asked, and you wondered whether you were prepared to answer truthfully.

You thought back on the game you'd all played with Dale's fishing hat and wished that you were wearing it now, to be able to muster up some false courage.

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly, "then you'd realise that I sleep in it every night." You confessed, noticing how his expression changed a little. "And that would be embarrassing."

Suddenly, the silence started to seem stifling to you as you played with your hands in your lap, looking down at them. You felt your stomach flip as you awaited his response, but it never came. Instead of waiting any longer, you decided to get out of there before facing inevitable rejection. You cleared your throat and started packing up your satchel in a hurry.

"Anyway, I should go." You excused, trying not to appear flustered. "Got to haul anchor on the yellow submarine."

You picked up his shirt once again and held it out to him, looking over with pleading eyes and praying that he'd just take it so you could leave.

He didn't, shaking his head again at the gesture.

"Nah, it's yours." He said gruffly. "I don' care what ya do with it."

You spoke up, wondering if you were really willing to fight with this man over a shirt.

"You might not, but I'm sure the others would have something to say about it." You explained, thinking about how Maggie had picked up on it straight away when you'd worn it by accident the day before.

"Here." You said more sternly, placing it into his lap. "Back with its rightful owner."

Daryl took it from his lap and placed it beside him, as he fumbled around in his jean pocket and pulled out his zippo from it. He flicked it open with his thumb and you watched as the blue flame jumped up, before he closed it again.

"Got enough gifts from ya." He said, gesturing to the lighter before looking over to the backpack where he'd put the magazine earlier.

He then pointed to the shirt, laid out in the space between you like a bargaining chip. "What were ya wantin' for it?"

You realised that he was referring to what you had said earlier, before Glenn had interrupted, and recalled how dangerously close the two of you had been.

"Nothing." You choked out, but it sounded forced. "I was just teasing."

"Ya weren't." Daryl said with certainty, and you felt your resolve crumbling.

"You're right." You replied.

Your eyes flickered over the man sitting in front of you, at his skin that was glazed by the sun and how much time he spent outdoors recently, and at his pale, steely blue eyes that watched you, watching him. He seemed just as nervous as you were, as if waiting for something to happen - for either of you to make a move. Yet, Daryl Dixon was shy. He was a sweet man bundled up in layers of trust issues and insecurity, which sometimes reared their heads as anger and frustration.

You saw beneath that. You saw the way he looked out for the group, and how he was hurt more deeply than any of the others at the loss of one of them. You noticed how he'd be up earlier than anyone else, making sure it was safe, and then how he'd go to bed the latest, too. At the same time, you were almost certain that this wasn't the same man you hauled from the creek that day. He looked the same, give or take a few scars and want of a haircut, but he was different. You could tell how much he'd grown in just a short space of time. He was a good man before, even if people were often fooled by his abrasive exterior, but he was an even better one now.

You gave him a warm smile, and felt a lot calmer than you had done in a while. You knew it was now or never, and accepted that you were, in fact, willing to risk it all for Daryl Dixon.

"There's one more thing I've been hoping for, as of late." You admitted, moving from his sleeping bag to crawl over to where he sat.

He stayed still, watching with a shy look, glancing over you as you approached with caution. As you got closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes lingering on you, you picked up the discarded shirt and showed it to him.

He looked down at it in your hands before meeting your eyes again. You let your gaze flicker over his face, taking in his shy expression, before settling on his lips. This is what you wanted in return for his shirt, and you needed him to realise that.

You noticed how nervous he looked, and how he seemed to hold his breath at the proximity you shared. You rested one of your hands over his, feeling how warm it was beneath your own, before asking him your question.

"Are you sure you still want it back?" You flicked your eyes to the shirt and back at him, making sure he understood what you meant.

His gaze rested on you for a few seconds, as you felt your breath catch in your throat waiting for his response. He nodded.

You smiled back, raising your other hand to cup his cheek gently, stroking over it with your thumb as you felt a wave of affection run through you for the man under your fingertips. They almost trembled against him, as you felt a mixture of nerves and pure, simple emotion swell to the surface. Though, you felt his hand squeeze your other one, where you held it, and relaxed into his touch that reassured you.

You closed your eyes and closed the remaining distance between you both, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made you feel a lot more than you'd expected it to. He was warm, and sweet, and trembling slightly. It made you smile into the kiss, and press more firmly against his cheek to remind him you were there. Even though it was obvious that you were there, kissing him, you needed him to know that you felt the same as he did.

You pulled away slowly, trying not to push for more. Your hand left his face and rested back at your side, suddenly feeling empty. The silence was loud, but it was comfortable. Your ears weren't ringing as they usually did. Instead, you focused on the soft sounds of Daryl's breathing, and watched as his eyes flickered over you and down to your own lips with want, as you had done to his. Though, he didn't seem quite confident enough in himself to act on it, and remained still.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest from the adrenaline, and you decided not to tempt things any further with him, either. He didn't say a word for a few seconds, but you didn't feel any sign of rejection. You moved away from him a little, allowing him his space, before picking up his shirt for the final time and pressing it into his chest lightly.

"Now it's yours again." You offered him a warm smile, which you felt was perhaps too big for your face. He took it from you.

You found it hard to conceal what you were feeling, but the look in his eyes told you that he didn't mind all that much. You sat in wordless wonder for a few minutes, considering what to say or do next. The sky had darkened a little as the clouds blocked the sunlight, and you felt the breeze pick up as your exposed skin prickled at the chill.

Then, you heard footsteps as someone approached the tent in a run. You whipped your head over to see Rick appear, ducking his head through the entryway and looking at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I need you to come with me, now." He instructed. "Randall's escaped."

A/N ahhhhhhh. AHHHH. I was SO excited to write this chapter, I cannot even tell you. This is merely the BEGINNING - the first flicker of this SLOW BURN! Just you wait until that confession... I have big things planned ;)

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[heyiwrotesomethings]

Spooky Stories to Hold Them Close

Shinobu Kochou x They/Them Reader Modern AU

A/N:  I’ve got camping on the brain so I wrote a camp AU. There is a manga character mentioned in here but I morph them a bit to fit what I’m going for so I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Please enjoy!  Shinobu: If there are any spirits out here tonight tell me, does this sound like Shakira? lolay lolay lo- 

Word Count: 4,821

It was summer again, and (Y/n) groaned as they removed their camp issued baseball cap to swipe at the sweat that had accumulated over their brow. Not even the cheap material could save them from the intense heat of the day. God, they would kill to be back at the counselor’s cabin to enjoy just a smidge of AC but no, instead they were out with the unruly boys of Cabin K, making sure that they carried out their punishment of hard labor after causing a food fight in the mess hall.

“Come on boys, those canoes better be sparkling if you’re going to be taking your sweet time like this.” (Y/n) called, fanning themself with their hat.

“There’s a spider in this one!” Zenitsu cried. “This is so gross, there’s no way anyone’s ever cleaned these before!”

“Don’t worry Zenitsu, I’ll get it.” Tanjirou smiled earnestly.

(Y/n) felt bad for that kid. He was such an enabler though. The others looked up to him and respected him a lot. Who knows how much better it be if he knocked their heads more often. But because of his soft and nurturing demeanor, Tanjirou was always getting caught up in his cabin mates’ shenanigans. Speaking of which...

“Inosuke! If so much as a toe goes in that water you’ll be at the craft table with the junior kids making macaroni art until the only color you know yellow!” (Y/n) warned.

A strangled wail mixed with a roar left the boy’s mouth, the sound didn’t even sound like it could come from a human being. It was like that boy was a feral boar. Given how he’s kept coming back year after year, he may as well be just that.

“It’s hot! I’ll wash the boat in the lake!” He yelled, pulling the canoe closer to the sandy beach.

“Inosuke I’m serious! Macaroni art! That, and I’ll call your mother!” (Y/n) yelled back.

“Damn you and your sick threats!”

“My, still at it are we?”

(Y/n) sighed, turning with a tight smile towards Shinobu as their fellow counselor came up beside them. They tried not to let their eyes wander too long over the expanse of soft looking skin Shinobu’s shorts left exposed.

“Yeah, and as you can see, Tomioka ditched me to go help Sabito with something.” (Y/n) huffed, returning a watchful eye over Inosuke as he dragged the canoe back up to the others.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Shinobu tutted, stepping closer to rub (Y/n)’s back as a sign of sympathy. The proximity brought the scent of sunscreen and damp earth to (Y/n)’s nose. It was an intoxicating scent that (Y/n) had grown to associate with Shinobu always.

“Yeah, are you getting ready for swim lessons right now? Tradesies?” They asked hopefully, mustering up the best puppy dog eyes they could make. They only succeeded in making Shinobu laugh though, which honestly, wasn’t a bad constellation prize.

“Mm, no, sorry. You’re not the only one wanting to get relief from this heatwave.” Shinobu pinched the front of her shirt pulling at it to circulate some airflow. A motion (Y/n) definitely did not follow with their eyes.

“I did grab you and the boys some water though.” Shinobu said, digging into the drawstring bag that was slung over her shoulder and presenting (Y/n) with four bottles of cold water. “And to think I purposfully didn’t get one for Tomioka and he isn’t even here to stare off into the middle distance. Such a waste.”

“You’re such a bully sometimes, you know that?” (Y/n) chuckled, placing all bottles at their feet except for one, “remind me to stay on your good side.”

“You’d really be on my good side if you came to the counselor fire after the kids turn in. The theme is Fright Night, sponsored by yours truly,” Shinobu winked playfully.

Immediately (Y/n) felt a tad ill. “Fright Night?”

“Yes!” Shinobu nodded, a small, yet very excited grin on her face, “it’ll be held at Hangman’s Clearing, of course, a full night of frightening tales and games by the fire... and delicious treats! Provided Mitsuri doesn’t eat them all on the way. You’ll come, right?”

(Y/n) wasn’t particularly fond of the supernatural or chilling tales of murder or other dark themes. In fact, it would be fair to say they loathed them. They hated being scared and this themed get together should have had (Y/n) running in the opposite direction. ‘Should have’ being the key in this situation.

Shinobu looked so hopeful, waiting expectantly for (Y/n)’s reply. It would be impossible to say no to that face. A face that (Y/n) looked forward to seeing every summer and was always desperately looking for an excuse to see as often as possible. It couldn’t be that bad, right? (Y/n) could handle a few spooks in exchange for hanging out with Shinobu all night. Yeah, they could do this.

“It’s not a trick question, (Y/n). A simple yes or no would suffice.” Shinobu teased. “Though if it helps sway your decision at all, it would make me really happy if you would come.”

And with that, (Y/n)’s fate was sealed.

“Okay, sure, yeah, I’ll come.” (Y/n) bashfully agreed, their heartbeat picking up in pace at Shinobu’s delighted giggle.

“Great! I’ll see you at the clearing at ten. Don’t be late or,” she suddenly latched on to (Y/n)’s arm, startling them, “the ghosts will get you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” (Y/n) laughed weakly. Their skin tingling from where Shinobu had grabbed them.

“I better get to the beach, the kids are getting antsy.” Shinobu said before proceeding to pull her shirt over her head. She was wearing her swimsuit of course, but still. (Y/n) nearly had an aneurysm because of the casual reveal. “See you later, (Y/n).”

“Sssseee you. Bye. Thanks for the water.” (Y/n) then made themselves busy by taking several sips of said water.

“Anytime,” Shinobu’s eyes traveled past (Y/n)’s body before returning to them with a sympathetic smile, “looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) squinted before their eyes blew wide and they jerked their head back in the direction of the canoes. “Tanjirou, why is there a canoe in that tree! I swear I can’t leave you guys alone for two minutes!” (Y/n) stalked over to the boys and Shinobu watched their back, laughing as (Y/n) ran up to Inosuke and tackled him to the ground before he could scale the tree with another canoe.

***

Night fell much too quickly after a full day of scheduled activities and once all the campers had retired to their cabins for curfew, (Y/n) knew their time to mentally prepare for the counselor fire had run out. At least they hadn’t had to walk to the clearing themself, as they had bumped into Mitsuri and Iguro at the edge of the forest entrance.

Iguro seemed miffed that his alone time with the bubbly counselor had been interrupted but Mitsuri was all too happy to catch up with (Y/n) about their day as they walked to Hangman’s Clearing.

Soon the light of a fire could be seen between the trees and they met up with the other counselors who had decided to join in. Sitting around the fire, (Y/n) saw Kyoujurou and Tengen talking to each other while poking at the fire. (Y/n) frowned, wondering where Shinobu was.

“Boo!”

It took everything in (Y/n)’s power to swallow the scream that threatened to spill from their mouth as arms wrapped around them from behind. Instead it turned into a pitiful and embarrassing squeak. (Y/n) wasn’t sure which would have been better.

“Oh dear, (Y/n). Did I startle you? I’m sorry.” Shinobu released (Y/n) from her hold and patted their shoulder.

“It’s okay!” (Y/n) promised, not wanting Shinobu to feel bad. “Besides, that’s kind of the point of tonight, isn’t it?”

“Right! I’m glad you could come (Y/n). I didn’t know if you liked scary things.” Shinobu said as they followed Mitsuri and Iguro to the fire.

“Yeah...” (Y/n) replied, lying against their better judgment. They just wanted Shinobu to think they were cool, impress her somehow maybe. “Horror is.. great.”

“Is this it?” Tengen asked, leaning his back against a sturdy log.

“Yes. Gyomei is staying behind to keep an ear out for the kids, as are Sabito and Tomioka. Sanemi said the whole thing wasn’t worth his time.” Shinobu explained as she took her own seat at the fire, motioning for (Y/n) to sit next to her.

“Did you even really invite Tomioka?” Tengen snorted.

“Of course I did, but as you all know, Tomioka is a wet blanket so he declined and Sabito decided to stay with him.” Shinobu clapped her hands against her thighs, “Now, enough about them. Let’s get the festivities started, shall we? Mitsuri, you brought the goods?”

“I sure did!” Mitsuri cheered, taking the nearly overflowing backpack she had been toting off of her shoulders. It landed in the dirt with a heavy thud. “I’ve got s’more fixings, jiffy pop, chips, sodas, water, hotdogs...”

“Wow Mitsuri, you really went all out. How did you carry it all?” (Y/n) marveled.

Mitsuri flexed one of her biceps, smacking the muscle with her hand. “Strength, pure will power and an intense love of all things delicious!” She said, her lips curled into an adorable smile.

The counselor fire started out great. For the first hour they all talked and ate, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the twinkle of the stars, laughing with each other as they recalled the memories that they had made over the years.

But like anything else, the conversation dried to a slow trickle and most of the food had been polished off. The once hearty blaze of the fire was now a low flame with glowing embers. Shinobu took it as her cue to begin the main event.

(Y/n) blinked at the sudden brightness that flashed beside them. They squinted against the light and saw that Shinobu was brandishing a flashlight, highlighting her face for a moment before moving the light to cast shadows over the sinister smile growing across her face.

“Anyone have a scary story they’d like to share or are you all content to dive into the main event?” Shinobu asked, placing her free hand confidently over her chest.

“Oo! I got one, Shinobu! Pick me!” Mitsuri called, calling out in her seat beside Iguro.

“Alright, catch!” Shinobu tossed the flashlight to Mitsuri who caught it with an excited squee.

“Okay, so, um.. oh! Once, there was this girl who woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t go back to sleep. She decided that she wanted a midnight snack and remembered that there was still a piece of her favorite raspberry cheesecake left. A perfect creamy treat! She could practically taste it already.”

Mitsuri wiggled on the log, leaning forward in her excitement. Light from the fire illuminated the green tips of her hair making them appear to glow.

“So she got out of her warm and comfy bed and crept into the dark, cold hallway, thump thump thump, and down the squeaky stairs, squeak squawk squeak, until she finally made it to the kitchen.

Mitsuri reached out towards the fire with her free hand and made a motion like grabbing a door, slowly pulling it back.

“She opened the refrigerator door and then—“ Mitsuri slapped her hand down upon her thigh with startling force, “to her absolute horror, she remembered that she had eaten the last piece of cheesecake at lunch the previous day! There was no more cheesecake to be had, and she had to settle for confetti cake ice cream when what she was really craving was the cheesecake!”

Mitsuri shook her head sorrowfully, and Iguro rubbed a soothing hand over her back while she collected herself.

“The end.” Mitsuri finished, clicking the flashlight off.

“Haha! Good one Mitsuri. The emotion behind your tale made it feel so real!” Kyoujirou loudly proclaimed. Shinobu giggled from her seat beside (Y/n) who also couldn’t help but laugh as well.

“It was real!” Mitsuri said seriously. “It happened to me just a couple weeks ago!” she shuddered.

“I don’t know, that was hardly scary Kanroji.” Tengen shrugged.

“I’d like to see you do better!” Mitsuri pouted.

“I could, but I’d rather let Kochou get on with her activities. Her knee is bouncing. Impatient, Kochou?”

“Ha ha! That it is!” Kyoujirou laughed.

“I can wait,” Shinobu countered, her leg ceased its bouncing due to being caught. “Does anyone else want to share a story?”

A chorus of head shakes met Shinobu’s question and she shrugged, a sly smiling curling at her lips.

“Very well then, Mitsuri, the flashlight please.”

“You got it!” Mitsuri cheered, tossing the light back to Shinobu.

Shinobu clicked the light back on, her eyes roamed over her audience one by one.

“Have you all heard of the serial killer Douma the Cannibal?” Shinobu asked.

“Of course,” Iguro spoke up. “He killed at least seventy women throughout the 1910s until well into the 1920s. However, their still connecting cold case murders to him even now. Some experts believe he could have killed well over two hundred. A really despicable monster to say the least.”

“Very true.” Shinobu nodded solemnly, “His parents ran a cult, believing he was some kind of messiah or deity. They let him do whatever he wished. It started with the killings of small animals but quickly escalated once that had lost its appeal. We don’t know much of motivations, but it’s believed he killed simply because he enjoyed it. Famously developing a taste for his victims after he ran out of places to store them.”

(Y/n) shivered, clutching themself in a hug as they waited for Shinobu to continue. This was worse than any old ghost story, the girl beside them was talking about an actual person! Well, at least he was dead right? Right?

“He was apprehended right here in this very clearing actually.” Shinobu said, looking around at the dark forest that surrounded them “The mob hung him, strung him up in one of these trees, hence the name Hangman’s Clearing.”

(Y/n) swallowed thickly. Why here, he couldn’t be dead someplace else? And they made a fucking summer camp here, what the actual fuck? Suddenly the woods seemed much more sinister.

“He deserved it of course,” Shinobu continued with a sigh, “but just think of what we could have learned if they chained him up instead. There are still many bodies unaccounted for. But perhaps,” Shinobu turned to (Y/n), making them jump a little as her hand slid behind them to pick up a box.

“But perhaps tonight, in the field where he gasped for his last breaths, we can learn something from beyond.”

Oh hell to the fucking no. She was holding a goddamn ouija board and matching planchette.

(Y/n) felt the hairs on the back of their neck rise to attention. There was no way, how could they get themself out of this? Calling upon the spirit of a serial killer was not what they had signed up for. Everyone else however, seemed to lean in and stare with excitement at the prospect, even Mitsuri quickly hopped out of her seat to sit on Shinobu’s other side.

“Oo, oo! Shinobu what a good idea!” she cheered.

A good idea? Mitsuri, honey, what is wrong with you, respectfully. (Y/n) held their face in their hand. That girl had been their only chance of escape, but she seemed just as invested as everyone else!

“Thank you, let’s get this set up then, shall we?” Shinobu grinned.

Tengen and Kyoujirou pushed the logs around into a makeshift table and everyone kneeled around it. Shinobu placed the board and planchette neatly in the middle, beckoning everyone to place a finger on the planchette.

(Y/n) jolted to attention as Shinobu placed her hand over theirs, giving them a questioning glance.

“(Y/n), are you still with us?” She teased.

“Yeah, sorry.” They gulped, watching in dismay as Shinobu smiled at them and pulled their hand up to the board, curling all fingers but one and playfully pushing it against the planchette before placing her own over the wood. There was no getting out of this.

Shinobu then went on about how the board worked and what not, (Y/n) didn’t really listen, too busy trying to find their happy place and pretend they weren’t there.

“Are there any spirits with us tonight?” Shinobu asked, pulling (Y/n) out of their head at the most inopportune moment.

At first there was no movement, for which (Y/n) was thankful, but ever so slowly the planchette did move.

“K-Kyou, you aren’t pushing it are you?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask.

“Not at all my friend!” Kyoujirou heartily replied as the planchette continued moving in (Y/n)’s direction.

The fact that it was moving in their direction wasn’t the issue, but rather the fact that (Y/n)’s corner of the board had ‘yes’ written on it.

“Ah, a yes! This is so exciting!” Mitsuri wiggled.

“Nice, how flamboyant!” Tengen added, pumping his free fist.

“What is your name spirit?” Shinobu continued.

(Y/n) let out a shaky breath as the planchette moved away from them. Watching with dread as it skimmed across the board.

‘D’

‘O’

‘U’

‘M’

‘A’

Fuck.

“Where are the victims you buried in these woods, you worthless, demonic bastard?” Shinobu tensed beside (Y/n), concentrating heavily on the board, her tone was commanding as she demanded an answer.

(Y/n) would have found it extremely attractive if they weren’t already scared out of their mind. The taunting of a serial killer ghost was the last thing they wanted to be a part of. Especially if they were talking demons, (Y/n) was too young to die like this. Well, they’d never be at an age where death by demon possession would seem favorable, but that was not the point!

The planchette moved across several letters and (Y/n) lost track of what was being spelled out. Which was just as well, ignorance is bliss after all, right? They waited for the others to figure it out with bated breath.

“Follow the sounds of the woods and we’ll find the signs, hm?” Iguro muttered. “Sounds like a trap.”

“What does it matter? Not like ghosts exist anyway. This is all a part of the ambiance, right Shinobu?” Tengen laughed, laying back on his forearms.

“I wasn’t pushing the planchette if that’s what you are suggesting, Uzui.” Shinobu answered seriously. “But if anyone else wants to confess to it, by all means don’t waste our time.”

“I didn’t!” Mitsuri denied while Iguro shook his head.

“I didn’t either.” (Y/n) also spoke up, an undetectable tremor pulled at their vocal chords.

“Nor have I!” Kyoujirou boomed.

“Then there is only one way to know for sure that this is all legitimate,” Shinobu said, brandishing the small lantern she had lit to illuminate the board, “we break off and search the surrounding woods.”

“Break off? Like, search in the dark alone?” (Y/n) couldn’t help but ask for clarification. Couldn’t they all just head back to the cabins together and watch a movie on Tengen’s smuggled DVD player and forget this whole mess?

“No, not alone,” Shinobu smiled, looping her free arm through (Y/n)’s, “that would be too dangerous. Pairs would be better.”

“I’m going with Kanroji.” Iguro immediately declared. Mitsuri wiggled and clapped, happy to go with him.

“Guess that leaves you and me,” Tengen grinned, fist bumping Kyoujirou, “let’s kick some ghost ass!”

“Yes!” Kyoujirou enthusiastically replied.

“Great, then it’s decided!” Shinobu nodded, squeezing (Y/n)’s arm closer to her as she stood up, pulling them up with her. “Meet back here in half an hour?”

A range of approvals sounded and once they synced up their watches (since phones weren’t allowed at camp), the three separate pairs went off in different directions into the dark woods.

(Y/n) used to love these woods, coming back summer after summer, it was one of the things they looked forward to every year. It only took about twenty minutes for them to learn to hate it as Shinobu led them through the bramble and roots by lantern light.

“You’re being awfully quiet, something on your mind?” Shinobu asked after an owl hooted in the distance, startling (Y/n) a bit.

“No, I’m just,” (Y/n) made a vague gesture with their hands, “concentrating, I guess.” They finished lamely.

Shinobu hummed in amusement, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. It is all rather exciting isn’t it? I hope we find something.”

“Mhmm.” (Y/n) forced a smile as Shinobu looked over her shoulder at them. It quickly fell from their face once Shinobu turned to face front again, guiding (Y/n) further down the darkened path.

(Y/n) had never been more tense in their life. They didn’t know if they were thankful for Shinobu’s commentary as they kept walking or if they wanted her to be quiet so they could hear any approaching threat. Whatever the case, they kept their mouth shut. Only answering Shinobu with one word responses, affirming or negative noises or just the shake or nod of their head when Shinobu would look back at them. If Shinobu thought it odd, she didn’t comment on her fellow counselor’s behavior.

After awhile, (Y/n) attempted to pretend they were somewhere else again. Still with Shinobu, but somewhere nice like an amusement park or a beach at sunset... maybe sunrise instead. (Y/n) was jostled from their musings when Shinobu stopped suddenly, causing (Y/n) to bump into her.

“Did you hear that?” She whispered, spiking (Y/n) blood pressure through the roof.

“No.” They squeaked.

“Listen.” Shinobu hushed, pulling (Y/n) down to their knees, they both crouched to the ground, listening so hard their ears were buzzing.

A snapping of a branch in the distance, the rustle of leaves.

“What,” (Y/n) swallowed, “what was that?” They whispered.

“Shhh,” Shinobu exhaled, covering (Y/n)’s lips with her fingers as she continued to listen.

It was quiet again, and as Shinobu gave up on listening and removed her fingers from over (Y/n)’s mouth—

“KYYYYAAAAAHHHH!”

A loud scream could be heard far off in the trees, then everything went quiet again for all of three seconds before (Y/n) absolutely lost it.

“Oh my god!” They gasped, clutching Shinobu’s arm tightly to their chest, their eyes wide and unfocused. “Oh my god, that sounded like Mitsuri! Oh god, oh fuck! Shit!”

“(Y/n)?” Shinobu looked at them, a bewildered expression molding her face as she observed their sudden outburst. She quickly moved to comfort them though, setting the lantern down to hug them, rubbing their back as it shuddered with ragged breaths. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re okay.”

“For now!” (Y/n) frantically retorted. “It’s only a matter of time before whatever got Mitsuri and Iguro come for us!”

“(Y/n), wait—“ Shinobu tried to calm them, but they just kept spiraling.

“Why did I agree to this? I should have left the second you took out that ouija board, but no! I stayed just so I could spend more time with you and now we’re gonna be murdered by a demon serial killer ghost before I could finally work up the courage to ask you out!”

“(Y/n)!” Shinobu tried again, speaking a bit sharper this time, forcing (Y/n) to look at her and hoping to calm them with her attentions. “Hey, we’re going to be alright. You’re alright. Listen to me, okay? I set this all up.”

“Huh?” (Y/n) weakly croaked.

“I messed with the ouija board. We weren’t really communicating with anything. I planned for us to split off into groups. We heard Mitsuri scream because—“

“Who’s ready to die!?” A loud maniacal laugh sounded behind them and a chainsaw roared to life.

(Y/n) screamed, otherwise paralyzed in Shinobu’s embrace. Their head tucked under Shinobu’s with their cheek pressed snugly against her chest as they waited for the chainsaw blade to tear through their skin.

“Sanemi, turn that off right now! Stop, damn you!” Shinobu yelled over the noise.

“Okay, okay!” the false murderer, Sanemi, turned off the whirring blade with a tisk. “I was only following your own instructions, Kochou. Why are you looking at me like I was really gonna... oh damn, are they okay?” Sanemi winced, gesturing at (Y/n) quivering in Shinobu’s arms like a leaf.

“Do they look okay to you?” Shinobu huffed, more angry at herself than Sanemi. She continued rubbing at (Y/n)’s back, trying to coax them out of their tight ball while Sanemi stood by awkwardly at the side, rubbing his neck and looking into the woods.

“I’ll uh, gather everybody up and take ‘em back to camp.” Sanemi eventually spoke up. “You have things all under control here?”

“Yes, please go. Thank you Sanemi.” Shinobu shooed him off, not even looking away from (Y/n) as she did so. As Sanemi lumbered back into the forest Shinobu continued to help (Y/n) calm down.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll be alright. I’m so sorry. It’s all over now. It’s just you and me and I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” Shinobu promised. “Can you look at me (Y/n), please?”

Ever so slowly, (Y/n) pulled back. They were still visibly shaken and meek which pulled heavily on Shinobu’s heart.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/n) shuddered, closing in on themself as they looked away from Shinobu, “I ruined your event.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything.” Shinobu spoke in a no-nonsense tone. “I should have noticed you weren’t having a good time.”

“I was having a good time at first. I just really wanted to spend time with you, I thought I could handle it.”

“You can spend time with me whenever you want; all you need to do is ask.” Shinobu smiled softly. “And if anything makes you uncomfortable I want you to tell me right away, okay?”

“Okay,” (Y/n) sniffed.

“I think we’ve spent enough time in the woods tonight.” Shinobu stood, holding her hand out for (Y/n) to take.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) chuckled weakly, accepting the hand and rising to their feet. Shinobu kept her hold on them as she picked up the lantern and guided (Y/n) back to the cabins.

Once they reached the clearing, the other counselors involved in the night’s festivities surrounded them, making sure everything was alright. Mitsuri gave (Y/n) a long, comforting hug while Kyoujirou squeezed their shoulder warmly. Tengen and Iguro shared a few kind sentiments and Sanemi grumbled out a sincere apology for scaring them so badly.

As everyone was turning in to their bunks for the night, Shinobu stopped in front of (Y/n)’s bunk as they were pulling back the covers, waving Tengen’s contraband DVD player in her hand.

“Hey, so, I figured you might have a hard time sleeping tonight. Would you want to watch a movie with me?” She asked.

“Yeah, I think that would help a lot. As long as it’s not horror anyway.” (Y/n) added.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson,” Shinobu shook her head making herself at home in (Y/n)’s bunk as she untangled the ear buds, “a romantic comedy is just about as far from horror as one can get I think.”

(Y/n) tried to give Shinobu her own space, but the small bunk didn’t leave much room for that and Shinobu didn’t seem interested in preserving her personal space anyway. Instead pulling (Y/n) to rest against her side after she set everything up.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, finger poised over the play button.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded against her shoulder, “thanks.”

“Of course.” Shinobu nodded, pressing play.

As the movie played they quietly made fun of it together and commented on the events as they transpired. Once earning Tengen’s wrath for laughing a little too loud while the rest were trying to sleep.

“You know,” (Y/n) whispered during one of the lulls in the story, “if you wanted to watch a horror movie with me some other time I think I could do it if you stayed by my side like this.” They bashfully admitted.

“Well, there is one coming out that I’d like to see this fall...” Shinobu informed with a teasing smile and (Y/n) scoffed lightly.

“I don’t like how quickly you came up with a plan, but I’ll look forward to it.” They said.

“Hey, it’s still a ways off. I hope to have several tamer dates between now and then.” Shinobu casually dropped.

“You do?” (Y/n)’s face grew warm, “With me?” They added just in case, making Shinobu giggle and nod her head.

“Yes, with you. So think of what you want to do for our next free day.”

(Y/n) grinned and snuggled further into Shinobu’s side.

Eventually they fell asleep while Shinobu’s fingers lightly scratched the back of their neck. She turned off the movie and carefully set the DVD player on the floor below. Then she curled up against (Y/n) and fell asleep as well.

[forever-rogue]

Hey there, could I please have #2 from your prompt. With it being Din's first, maybe having to either blindfold or blackout the room with the reader? Please and thank you!

2. Kiss

This prompt has me all kinds of soft and gentle and I love one Man(dalorian) so much!

The Mandalorian Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A huff escaped your lips as you stared at the metal ceiling of the Crest. It was almost pitch black, with only a bit of light filtering in from the small crack in your door signaling that Din too was still awake as well.

Grabbing the scratchy blanket, you pulled it tighter around your body, wishing the chill would go away, but it was pervasive. No matter where you were on the ship or how many layers you wore or blankets you dragged into your small bed, you always felt cold. Rolling onto your side, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing your mind to settle and calm, finally letting you get some sleep. It had been...days since you’d had a good night’s sleep. Your body was desperate for it, and you were sure your mind wasn’t far behind.

But it never seemed to come; instead you spent countless hours lying in the dark staring into the blackness as you tried anything to sleep. To be fair, a lot had been on your mind lately, things you weren’t really sure how to address or even bring up in conversation without worrying about scaring Din off.

Instead you remained quiet, making up all sorts of scenarios in your mind of how the conversation could possibly go. Meanwhile in your waking hours...well your day to day hours, you’d been quiet, retreating more within yourself than you ever had. You didn’t think it was that obvious, prepared to use the guise of giving Din his space and not wanting to interfere with the Bounty Hunter’s work.

But it was fruitless. Din had just been as restless, often pacing around the hull of the Crest for hours after he thought you were fast asleep. There were at least a hundred things he wanted to say, and however he phrased them, he was sure they would scare you off. So he paced - and paced - and paced - and...

Wanting to tear your hair out, you almost jumped out of your small, hard bed and went to the small wardrobe you pulling out another sweater, one of Din’s hand-me-downs that still smelled like him despite having been washing numerous times and threw it on. If you were going to be awake, you might as well make use out of time or find something enjoyable to do.

Poking your head out of the door, you looked around and found the coast clear. Not that you were pointedly trying to avoid Din, you just didn’t need him to worry or fuss over anything. When it came to you and the green bean he was decidedly protective, sometimes almost too much so. But you didn’t mind, not really anyway; it was nice to know that someone was looking out for you.

Sighing lightly, you wished you could go and grab the little one and take him with you. But luckily, unlike his adopted father and yourself, sleep came easily to him. It was almost too much to watch him grow from an excited little blur to practically falling asleep as you held him in your arms. You were going to miss him so damn much when it came to actually giving him back to his people, whether that was the Jedi or more of his own species. But you weren’t going to think about that, not yet anyway. Instead you were going to focus on making every day with him count as much as possible.

And Din.

Once the little one was gone, there would be no use for you either. And then you’d part ways and...something. You hadn’t thought that far ahead. You’d just sort of...been going along with whatever life seemed throw in your way. You supposed you could go back to Sorgan or even Nevarro now that it was safe...maybe you could even link back up with Cobb Vanth and find something to do in Mos Pelgo. Whatever you would be forced to do, it would work out. You’d make friends in many places now, one of them would be able to help somehow.

Pulling yourself back into reality, you slowly, and as quietly as you could, lowered the ramp to the Crest and hopped out, almost stumbled over our own feet as you landed on the soft, grassy floor. You were smack in the middle of the forest, finding it a majestic place untouched by the hustle and bustle of the nearby city. It was calm here, peaceful - nothing but the soft chirping of insects and cooing of sleeping birds meeting your ears.

The sky was clear here, beautiful and giving you access to the millions of glittering stars that light pollution normally absorbed. Humming under your breath, you walked a few paces away from the ship, eventually finding a small log to sit on. You let a long, world weary sigh as you plopped your tired bones down.

You leaned back slightly looked up, naming as many stars as you could, picking out all the constellations that you were father had taught you about as a small child. But even that, so tranquil and all consuming, lost its fun after a little while.

Before you knew it, a few tears ran down your cheeks. You weren’t even sure when you had started crying, or when your thoughts had turned back to the Mandalorian and your son. But like all things in life, it all seemed to come back to them.

Sniffling quietly, you dabbed at your eyes, wishing that you would pull yourself together and get over it. You had to be strong, if not for them for yourself. But kriff. It was hard and there so many things you had left to say and if you didn’t you were positive you would -

“Mesh’la?” your heart jumped at the sound of Din’s voice. You had been so lost in your head you hadn’t hear him approach or anything. Swallowing thickly, you turned around to face him, offering him a small smile before turning away from that swearing gaze, “what are you doing out here? I thought I heard you leave.”

“Nothing,” it was neither the truth or a lie but it would suffice. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as he came over and sat down next to you, where you’d automatically made a spot for him, “couldn’t sleep.”

“You’re crying,” it wasn’t a question so much as a statement as he watched you closely, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing Din,” you swallowed the lump in your throat as you played with your hands in your lap, “just tired is all. Haven’t been able to sleep much lately and I think it’s getting to me.”

“Oh,” he said softly as you nodded. it was silent for a few beats as a sort of awkward tension hung between the two of you. Clearing his throat quietly, he shifted in his spot so he could turn and face you properly, “w-what’s been going on with you lately? Have I...have I done something?”

“What?” your neck almost snapped as you looked in his direction, giving him a confused expression, “Din, no, it’s nothing like that.”

“You’ve been quietly lately,” he pointed out and you realized you were most definitely not as sly as you thought you were, “you’ve been avoiding me...”

“I haven’t been...” your voice trailed off as you shrugged in defeat, neither confirming nor denying his accusations, “sorry.”

“Will you talk to me?”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, “I’m afraid that if I tell you what’s on my mind you’ll want nothing to do with me. And I’d rather just...have you this way than not at all.”

“Please don’t disappear, not again,” he said quietly as he hand slowly, hesitantly, reached for yours. You looked down at his much larger hand, this time not burdened by his leather gloves, but displaying warm, golden skin, “I’ve been...I’ve been wanting to tell you things too.”

“Oh?” you asked as you slowly put your hand closer to his, inch by inch, eventually letting your skin touch his, “what...what did you want to say?”

“I...” he stared at your entwined hands, admiring how small and soft yours looked in his; unmarred and unscarred, pure to the world unlike his which had done horrible things. But yet still, you’d never run from him, never spurned him for his past or judged him. You’d always cared for him with an open heart. You waited with baited breath as his touch sent shivers throughout your whole body, “I’m not always good with words.”

“Me neither,” you admitted with a small laugh, “obviously. But, Din...I...I’ve been thinking about this, all of this...how things are eventually going to change - come to an end. I don’t...I don’t know what I’m going to do when it’s my turn to leave you.”

“Who said you were leaving?” he seemed genuinely shocked as the helmet tilted to side and you were positive there was a look of confusion on his face. You looked up at him, opening and closing your a few times as you tried to decide on whether or not he was serious.

“I just...I came to work for you to help take care of the little one...once he’s home, you don’t need me anymore,” you pointed out as thought it was obvious, “I just, I figured I would have to leave too. Without him-”

“No,” he firmly, but gently, cut you off, “no, you’re not - no. it was never supposed to be like that. I thought you knew that...I thought you’d stay, I want you to stay.”

“You do?” your eyes widened as you met the black T of his visor. Tears were threatening to well up and spill over as he nodded lightly, “I didn’t think...me? Why me?”

“I told you I’m not always good with words,” he admitted with a small huff of laughter, “I’ve spoken more words to you in the time I’ve known you than I have probably in the last twenty years.”

“Din...”

“Maybe I can’t put it well into words, but maybe...may I show you?” he asked with a noticeable shake to his voice. You offered him the smallest and most heart melting smile as you nodded, “can you close your eyes?”

“Yes,” your eyebrows shot up for a second before you realized what was going on and you squeezed your eyes shut as tightly as possible. Your heart was beating so wildly, you were sure that he wildly you were positive he could hear it. Once he was sure you couldn’t see anything, he timidly reached up and released the latch for the helmet, pulling it off with a small hiss and setting it next to his feet. Your heart was surely about to burst when you realized that he trusted you with this; he trusted you fully and completely.

“I’ve never...I’ve never done this before,” his voice was small, nervous, as his hands found your face and gently traced over your features. He couldn’t believe was able to finally experience this, the simple act of seeing you with his own eyes, unobstructed by anything else; to touch you in such a gentle manner with his skin on yours. It was heaven; no - better than heaven.

“Din...”

“May I kiss you?” a small smile spread across your features as you gave him a gentle nod, placing your hands on wrists as you rubbed the delicate skin there.

And then he kissed you.

It was slow, almost achingly so at first, the way he barely brushed his lips over yours, in nothing more than a quick, gentle kiss.

But when your face lit up, eyes still closed, his heart melted and he knew he had to do it again. And so he did; each kiss become more heated and confident as he got his first taste of you. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have stopped, never ever. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to kiss, but now that he first taste he was hooked.

After what seemed like a small eternity, he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. Sighing contently you sneaked a few more kisses before you reached up and touched over his features, just as he had done to you.

“You have a mustache,” you almost giggled as you traced over his lips and he made a small sound of amusement.

“Do you not like it?” he questioned, almost immediately wondering if he should get rid of it.

“No,” you admitted and he panicked lightly, “I love it. I bet it suits you perfectly. It tickles a little bit, but I like it.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“Of course,” you beamed at him, “what color are your eyes?”

“Brown.”

“You hair?”

“Brown.”

“I bet you’re magical, Din Djarin,” you whispered, ghosting your lips over his, “maybe...maybe one day I’ll get to see, but until then, I’ll keep all of this in my mind, and my heart.”

“I promise,” he breathed you in gently, committing every bit of this to memory, “I promise one day you will see. But you have to promise me one thing first.”

“Anything.”

“Please don’t leave.”

“Never,” you promised, “never.”

[randomlifeunit]

[From left to right: Anya, Wes, Ransom, Sean, and Rune.]

“Where The Path Leads”

Rating: Mature

This is a sequel to my story, “Not All Who Wander.”

Themes: Found family, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma, and a dash of levity, smut and romance to balance it out.

Ch. 1

Ransom's tall frame was silhouetted against the fiery glow of the setting sun. He turned to his friends, fellow wanderers on this adventure they'd chosen. The faint glow of the campfire flickered across his ebony features.

"Another few days of travel should put us near the next town. I wonder if it might be a good place to spend the winter," he mused, looking up at the sky. "Autumn has been gentle so far, but it's always good to plan ahead." He used a long stick he held to poke the fire. It popped loudly, sparks floating upwards on the heated currents of air.

Wes curled an arm around Anya, giving her a squeeze before replying, "I'm honestly looking forward to staying put for awhile. I know, I know, you're speechless," he chuckled, one hand sweeping out in a broad gesture that encompassed them all.

Rune sat on an oblong stone, the red ends of her brown hair standing out more vividly in the dying light. She snickered at Wes and her hands gracefully formed her words. I'm not surprised, she signed, a wry grin lifting the corners of her mouth. Love has turned you soft.

"Me? Soft?" Wes protested loudly, then shrugged, leaning over to kiss Anya on the cheek. "Maybe you're just jealous," he responded, earning him an elbow in the ribs from his girlfriend.

Next to Rune, Sean's face grew hot, and he was glad no one was looking in his direction.

Rune fired back at Wes, Don't forget, I know where you sleep. She reached down to pull her knife partway out of its sheath, a challenge on her face. A small smirk peeked through, and Wes laughed.

"Come on, you two," Ransom said, grinning. "You can kill each other another day. Today is a good day for peace, right?"

Rune shook her head emphatically. No.

Anya dissolved into giggles.

————————————————————————————

That night, Sean made himself comfortable on his bedroll next to Rune and Ransom. He was starting to grow accustomed to their new sleeping arrangements. It had been about three weeks since Anya had joined them in their journey, and she and Wes had their own shelter on the other side of camp. If he listened carefully, Sean could pick up the low hum of their hushed conversation.

Rune's even breathing told him that she was asleep, and Ransom seemed to be, too. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted, and another answered from further away. The sound of crickets chirping pulled a satisfied sigh from his lips. Turning over, Sean tried to get comfortable, frustrated when his prosthetic left arm seemed more in the way than usual. Blowing out a breath, he rolled to the other side. Idly, he watched the interplay of minor visual distortions from his optical prosthetic. Sometimes they were a nuisance; tonight, they were mildly entertaining. A thought fleetingly made his gut clench: he was going to have to eventually find a medical center that could perform maintenance on his prosthetics. They likely needed minor adjustments and repairs. He quickly tamped down that line of thinking and shut his eye.

Sleep was a long time in coming.

——————————————————————————————

Morning dawned with a definite chill in the air. Ransom was up early, a black leather jacket on, blowing on the embers to get the campfire going again. Rune emerged not long after, her hair touseled from sleep. Yawning, she stretched languidly and stepped closer to the fire. Pulling the buttons on her old wool coat closed, she greeted Ransom. Good morning.

"Morning, Rune," he answered, his eyes flicking back to the fire as he added another log. We leaving today? Or stay one more day? she asked. "Probably break camp and head out in a couple hours," he answered, brushing his hands together. She bumped one shoulder against him and teased, You're looking forward to a real bed, right? He chuckled. "Aren't we all? You can't tell me you haven't been thinking about it." She nodded, her hands still for a moment. It will be nice, but I don't like being stuck one place all winter.

"I hear you there. It can sometimes make one feel a little..."

Trapped, she finished for him. "Yes," he said, then gave her shoulders a squeeze with one arm. "We'll get through it, though, just like we do every year. Together."

Rune leaned against her friend, relishing the support. Together, she signed, nodding.

[Next Chapter]

Read on Ao3

[livinghostly]

oogies!

sokka x reader

not my gif!

words: 2119

request/summary: sokka gets the oogies around aang and katara, but you have a feeling it's something more than that.

a/n: sokka bby i love u

it started months ago, when you first had been recruited into the gaang. you knew katara and aang were close, but you wouldn't have noticed the romantic tension between them if it wasn't for sokka.

at first he didn't acknowledge it so much, the occasional eye roll here and there. then, it all became too much for him to bear: the longing glances, always taking each other's sides, constantly having to be around each other or else panic mode would ensue.

"you guys are giving me the oogies," sokka said offhandedly, crossing his arms.

huffing, katara stomped her foot. "sokka, would you stop that?"

his total disgust towards the couple bothered you some, only because you liked him. it was a feeling you couldn't shake, a constant flutter in your chest when you looked at him. he was charming and unapologetically himself, always able to draw a smile to your face even if it meant embarrassing himself. he'd been there for you through your hardest times and despite his usual pessimism, he showed you things would always be okay in the end. and he'd be there with you.

"oogies?" you echoed aloud, looking between the two siblings. your eyes landed on aang between them, who seemed to be just as confused as you were.

"aang and katara!" the water tribe pointed a finger accusingly at them. "keep the couple stuff to yourself, please."

"we–" katara shook her head, blushing furiously. her eyes were closed tightly so she couldn't see the bashful grin aang had. "we are not a couple!"

you were gathered around a campfire with your friends– except for toph, who was desperate for some sleep after a rough past few days. she retreated to her impromptu tent next to appa. you shared a log with sokka, poking at a fire with a stick you'd found.

sokka reached into the food bag, searching for something other than aang's ridiculous fruits and grains. "do we have any fish? or meat? i'm starving."

from the opposite side of the fire, aang erupted into a nervous fit of giggles. you raised your stare from the flames to see katara's hand placed gently over his, the two of them blushing messes. she smiled softly and looked at the ground.

the midst of a war wasn't a great time for dating, you knew, but at the same time you didn't understand why they refused to confess to each other. their entire relationship was beating around the bush. but you liked seeing them together, they made each other happy. you wanted something like that.

beside you, sokka looked between you, and then the couple, and then back to you. his eyebrows twitched upward with a sudden sadness, but he shook his head to get rid of the feeling.

not noticing his fleeting glances, you looked back to the fire, before throwing the poking stick in front of you. attempting to be subtle, you scooted closer to him. the actions made your cheeks warm.

"nevermind, i think i've lost my appetite," he tossed the bag off to the side with a sudden frown.

you smiled to yourself, watching him cross his arms and scoff at the two. they didn't pay enough attention to him to notice the sudden change in his attitude, but you nudged him softly with your elbow. sokka lifted his head and met your eyes again, so you could see the pout dawning his features.

"you're acting like a child, you know."

"i am not!" he argued loudly.

with a playful smirk, you raised your eyebrows. his defensiveness faltered as he realized he was only proving your point, and he hunched over to hide the blush that was forming.

his volume caught the attention of your friends, averting their gazes from each other with wide eyes.

katara pulled her eyebrows together in concern. "you're not what?"

"not minding his own business," you said casually, holding back a smile. he huffed in annoyance, shaking his head.

"so, nothing new," aang chimed in with a bright grin.

"alright, alright!" sokka cried, throwing his hands in the air. he stood up, and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics. "i'm going to bed, you've officially ruined this fire for me."

he took one step away, and your hand flew out to catch his. you effectively stopped him in his place, and he turned to look at you with wide eyes.

you loosened your grip, but tugged him back towards you. "come on, sokka. we were just joking, don't leave!"

a sense of pride blossomed in his chest, and he squeezed your hand. "maybe i'll come back out when the lovebirds find their nest."

his hand slipped from your grip and he began to walk away, now able to let himself smile brightly. he missed the feel of your hand on his again, knowing he didn't appreciate it enough the first time around.

katara was glaring holes into his back. she called out to him, "you know what, sokka? you give me the oogies!"

"doesn't make any sense when you do it, katara!" he disappeared into his tent.

"it doesn't make any sense in the first place!" she let out a scream of frustration.

after a few days, you and the others moved locations, slowly but surely getting closer to the fire nation. aang found an empty field for your temporary homes, much to toph's liking, a good place to practice earth bending.

aang wasn't as interested in that, though. he wasn't too far down at the beach, with katara. the two of them were splashing around in the water together, creating the biggest waves they could muster and slamming them down on their opponent.

their laughter echoed through the empty field, only to be broken by a frustrated groan from a few feet away.

sokka was leaning against one of the trees bordering the forest, glaring towards the two. he was sharpening his sword, getting more aggressive as time went on. though he knew he caught your attention, he didn't elaborate on his annoyance.

setting down the basket you had, you pulled the sword from his hand, and slid it back into it's holster. "what's wrong, sokka?"

"it's the oogies, they're bringing me down," he drawled with a frown.

you hummed thoughtfully looking at the beach, then turned to him. "you want to come picking berries with me?" you offered, holding out an extra woven basket.

sokka glanced at you, to the basket, back to you. he did that a lot. and he had a landslide of a preference for meat, you knew that, but you also knew he'd rather get away from the campsite if his sister and aang were going to be flirting the entire time.

"i'm the meat guy," he mumbled, mostly to himself. nevertheless, he gently took the basket in his own hand and pushed himself off the tree. a playful grin pulled at his lips, and he leaned into you, "but i guess if you really, really want me to."

"i wouldn't want anybody else," you teased, nudging him softly with your arm. he didn't budge, and you instead knocked yourself into him and staying at his side.

sokka's eyes seemed to light up at your comment, his smile breaking through. all thoughts regarding katara and aang were long forgotten, and he sighed contently as he looked out to the forest. he marched happily, leading the way towards a bush of orange berries.

"y/n, look at these!" he picked the branch off of the bush, holding it out for you to see. they were practically mesmerizing with their color and the strange shape they held. he quickly popped it into his mouth.

you giggled at his excitement. "you know, those could have been poisonous."

horror flashed across his face, and he was instantly spitting it back on to the ground. he threw the broken branch along with it. "are they? poisonous?"

"no."

his expression turned to one of betrayal. if he wasn't the victim of your prank, he would have been laughing. he turned his back to you to find another bush. "that was a cruel joke, y/n."

you were quick to follow him, not wanting to him to stray too far in unfamiliar woods. if sokka slipped into panic mode, things would get ugly. "could you find it in your heart to forgive me?" you asked sweetly, maneuvering in front of him. he turned his head away, holding his chin high so he didn't have to face you.

"no, i don't think so."

falling next to him again, you groaned playfully, giving up easily. instead, you pulled your mouth to the side and analyzed the forest you dragged your feet through. you didn't catch the way he looked at you, watching as your eyes lit up when you spotted another bush.

silence fell between you, the only sounds being his aggressive pulls at the branches and the looming creatures ever-so-slightly running over sticks and leaves in the distance. though you were sure he didn't mind, it bothered you. you had questions, and he was acting as if nothing was wrong.

"so, why do aang and katara bother you so much?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. you kept an eye on him as he inspected a pink berry carefully, and then dropped it into his basket.

"they don't bother me," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you stopped in place with an confused expression, letting your arms fall to your side. "you could've fooled me, all you do is complain when they're together."

sokka's shoulders dropped, and his movements seemed to slow. he picked a purple berry from one of the bushes and began to toy with it in his hand. "i'm glad they have each other, you know, it's just..." he shook his head. "i feel like they're rubbing it in my face sometimes. like a reminder i'm not going to have that with..."

"oh." you felt your stomach sink, and pulled your lips into your mouth for a moment. "is it because you miss suki?"

"what? i don't miss suki. not like that, anyway."

"yue?"

"no, y/n–"

"are you talking about that one girl from the earth kingdom vill–"

"no!" sokka squeaked. he was blushing furiously, and had nearly poured all the berries out as he fumbled the basket in his hands. he tried to bring his voice down to it's normal octave, "it's none of them. it doesn't matter, anyway, the girl want all that stuff with doesn't want it with me. and it's okay."

you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. it was a sucker punch to the gut, depriving you of your composure. "so, there is a girl?"

he took in a deep breath, "yeah– and, and she's great. i mean, we've been through a lot together and looking back on everything– i can't imagine being without her." he shook his head, finding a tree stump to sit on. "but i can't have with her what aang has with katara. she doesn't like me like i like her."

setting your basket down, you sat next to him. he was playing with the handle nervously with his head ducked down and shoulders hunched, refusing to look at you.

"sokka, what?" you let out a weak laugh, finding what he said unbelievable. "i mean, that's crazy. how could she not like you?"

he stayed silent, and you continued.

"if she really doesn't, then she's not worth your time, sokka. don't waste your energy on unreciprocated feelings, it just ends up draining you–"

"you're the girl, y/n."

you stopped, leaning back just the slightest in surprise. he looked up at you, gently setting the basket on the ground. "me?"

"i didn't want to say anything because i didn't want to mess up our friendship. i thought it would go away after i first met you, but it hasn't. i just– i want to be your friend."

a smile tugged at your lips, "well, i don't want to be your friend, sokka. it seems silly now."

his shoulders dropped further than they were, and he looked in the opposite direction. "i get that. i'll leave you alone, if that's–"

softly, you placed your fingers under his chin and pulled it towards you. before he could ask why, you kissed him. he hesitated, and then kissed you back. he held back his smile as he hand found your cheek.

"y/n, toph and i were wondering if you–" katara stopped herself short, eyes widening in horror as she spotted the two of you. "oh, spirits!"

you broke away from sokka in surprise, pulling his hand from your face and interlocking your fingers instead. your mouth opened, you weren't quite sure what to say, but you could tell she wasn't either. her jaw was agape as she stuttered, processing the whole situation.

she pointed at you. "you guys– you're– oogies!" she smiled triumphantly. "oogies!" she turned around briefly, calling out to your camp. "aang, oogies!"

"you started this," you raised your eyebrows, looking at sokka accusingly. "this is on you."

"you kissed me!"

[leapyearkisses]

And OMG, They Were Rollmates (m/m) - Oneshot

A D&D-inspired ficlet about an elf wizard and a human ranger sharing a bedroll, and also they fuck. And there are some feelings because I’m incapable of writing porn without them.

NSFW, MESS, sneezing on people

---

Ingvar poked a stick between the smoldering logs he'd stacked in the firepit, but stabbing the coals did nothing to make the fire any bigger or warmer. The wood was just too wet, even this deep into the forest. The thick canopy couldn't protect against the north's seasonal storms. It was just poor luck that he and Aravel had to travel this way at this time of year. It was going to be another cold night. He sneaked a look at his travelling companion, who was setting up their tent.  Aravel blended uncannily into the scenery here. Maybe it wasn't surprising, him being a wood elf. His skin was the fine, rich red-brown of cherry wood. His hair was a greeny bronze that mimicked the hanging moss of his home forest. Even his eyes were camouflage, golden and catlike. In the dark, they reflected the firelight like those of a mountain lion, and Ingvar had been spooked more than once. Combine all that with Aravel's leaf-like, layered robes, and it was hard to pick him out at twenty paces. Ingvar had been trained as a ranger since he could walk, and he was jealous of Aravel's natural, inborn ease among all things wooded. "Almost ready?" Ingvar asked after another minute. Their tent was small, only big enough for two people and a dog. They'd unfortunately lost Ingvar's hunting hound in a landslide a few days ago, along with Aravel's pack, so it was going to be colder than he liked inside. "We only have the one bedroll," Aravel said, stepping back from his work. He was still limping, but there wasn't much they could do about that. 

Ingvar rubbed his own aching elbow. "Well, we'll just have to make do. Come over and let's eat." He produced some wolf jerky from his pouch and shared it out when Aravel came to sit beside him. "How are you feeling?" It wasn't just the landslide that prompted the question. For the last few hours, he'd noticed Aravel slowing down, stumbling occasionally, even sneezing once or twice. Really, it was just their luck. The elf shrugged. "I'm falling ill," he replied wearily. "We should have made camp in Boarstead." He rubbed his slim hands together and held them over the sad excuse for a fire. "We didn't know it was going to be so difficult to cross the pass," Ingvar pointed out. "And you didn't know you would take sick. Did you?" "No," Aravel was quick to say. "No, I would have told you." Hiding such things on the road could lead to mistakes, sometimes fatal ones. "Then it was all inevitable," said Ingvar. He started to rub Aravel's back. "We can share the bedroll. I don't want you to get any worse." "I think hih- that's inevitable as well," Aravel mumbled, leaning into the touch. He tucked his face into his elbow. "Hpptsch! Hh- hh- hh- hh-- haptschiu!" Ingvar chuckled. "Didn't think you'd get that one out, there." "Be silent," said Aravel, primly, before sneezing again. It wasn't quite dark yet when they turned in, but night fell extremely quickly in the forest and it was best to be tucked in and completely settled before losing the light. They washed up as best they could with a few handfuls of water, packed the remaining bag tightly and hung it from a tree, and tried to stoke the fire as much as possible. Ingvar pissed in a circle around their camp to keep away curious animals, a practice he was not able to get Aravel to join in on. Then they entered the tent. The bedroll was narrow but also a necessity. "You first," said Aravel. "You're bigger. I can fit in afterward." So Ingvar climbed inside. He was tall but leanly muscled. He didn't think this whole endeavor would work if he was packing slabs like the warriors they often passed in town, huge beefy fellows who hired themselves out to defend homesteads or hunt bandits. They all seemed to have the same hairstyle, too, a tail at the neck. Seemed to Ingvar like a good place for an opponent to grab you and slit your throat. He wore his own black hair short when he was on the road. Just more practical. 

Once he was settled, he held open the fabric for Aravel. "We'll go back to back," said the elf, and attempted such, but they soon found that the bedroll wasn't wide enough for their knees to point in opposite directions. Normally, Ingvar would have offered to spoon his smaller companion - had done so many times when travelling with various folk - but Aravel actually kept his own mossy hair quite long, and after about three minutes of blowing hair out of his mouth, Ingvar nixed that plan. Aravel had to get out again, then back in, carefully sliding in behind Ingvar, and that seemed to do the trick. It was so tight that Ingvar could feel Aravel's lips on the back of his neck, and the elf had had to tuck his arms around Ingvar's torso. At least the exertion of struggling in and out would keep them warm for now. Ingvar didn't think they would be moving again until daybreak. "Comfortable?" he asked, pointlessly. Aravel's breath was warm on his skin. "More or less," Aravel murmured back. "Good enough, anyway..." And then his breath fluttered uncertainly. "Ingvar..." "Yes? Hey, you can't-" Aravel had started wriggling against him, trying to extract an arm that was wound under Ingvar's own. It made his elbow hurt again and he gritted his teeth. "What is it?? We don't really have a lot of room, here!" "I know, I'm sorry, but I hh have to sneeze! Hah-" Aravel kept tugging, but he'd only managed to jostle them; his arm was still stuck down inside the bedroll when he was overcome. "Haptschiu!" His nose bumped against Ingvar's neck, which was suddenly moist from the spray. Ingvar shivered a little from the sensation, partially from discomfort. "...Bless you." Aravel's skin heated. "I'm so sorry," he said. "Honestly. I'll try not to sneeze." He extricated his arm carefully, finally, so he could rub his nose and dry Ingvar's neck with his sleeve. When he was done, though, there was nowhere for him to put it but back into the bedroll. It hurt Ingvar's back if Aravel tucked his arm anywhere but where it had been before, settled on his hip and chest. It quickly became clear to them both that Aravel struggling to cover every time he felt a tickle was just impractical. It was tiring, painfully jostling, and most of the time not even fast enough to make a difference. Finally, Ingvar just folded his hand over Aravel's. "It's okay," he said. "It's okay. Try to get some sleep. I'll wash up in the morning and we'll forget about it." Aravel's hand was soft and trembling lightly. Ingvar gave it a squeeze. "....If you say so." The elf was clearly reluctant, but he already sounded half asleep. "Sorry." "Shh." Ingvar settled, closing his eyes. He was tired after a long day of travel, and whether their arrangement was for better or worse, he was warm. It was quiet outside. The trees were full of the sounds of night, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He could rest. Or, well. He did want to. But even mostly asleep, Aravel was still unfortunately stricken with illness, and his breathing fluttered with every small itch. He made soft, irritated sounds. He hitched, sometimes for quite some time, before subsiding. Or before working himself up to sneeze again. "Ah... hih... ih- hih-" Ingvar rubbed his thumb over Aravel's knuckles. "Hah-- Haptsch! Apttschih!" Aravel trembled and moaned softly. He pressed his nose to Ingvar's neck, seeking some sleeping aid for the torturous irritation. Maybe every few minutes, then maybe longer, Ingvar felt a gentle, wet burst against the back of his neck. It was an experience unlike any he'd had before in his life, and he had trouble categorizing it into "good" or "bad." Finally, it seemed as though exhaustion won out, and Aravel subsided into a deeper sleep, sniffling but blissfully still. Ingvar tried to match him, and soon enough he also fell asleep. In the predawn, maybe close to 4 AM, Ingvar woke. Some sound had woken him, triggering his honed ranger instincts. A soft sound, quivering in the darkness. Aravel, he realized after a moment. He could feel the elf's chest rising against his back. Aravel was awake, he thought, and it was confirmed when he felt the elf curl his fingers tightly in the fabric of Ingvar's jerkin. "No," Aravel whispered, obviously self-directed. He groaned lightly and Ingvar heard his breath catch sharply in the dark. "Huah-- Aa" He was clearly going to sneeze again - maybe this is what had woken him to begin with - and it sounded itchy and urgent. "Aa- AA- Apptschh! Happtschuh!" Aravel's body was tense behind his, and his nose and lips were crushed to Ingvar's skin when he sneezed. He felt the rush of air, light spray, and a sudden hot wetness against his neck. Aravel coughed lightly and sniffed hard, the sound thick. Aa. Well, he probably wasn't feeling much better then. Ingvar wondered if he should move, say something... but Aravel had started up again. "Hah- hhah- hahktschiu! Ohh... Aa- Haksh! Hh-Hngksch! Ahkttschxgh!"  There was another rush of mess, pooling at his neck. Ingvar supposed he should have been revolted or something, but his brain was currently fixated on a different feeling entirely. Aravel was pressed all along his back, tightly, and he could feel the hard line of the elf's cock against his backside. Now, this was an inevitability, and something he'd experienced with other companions as well, part of the drill. But he'd rarely traveled with anyone whose sleeping interest spurred him to offer reciprocation. Aravel was sick, but that didn't really hamper Ingvar's steady interest, which had been growing since they started travelling together three months ago. And he didn't enjoy the frustrated noises Aravel was making as he wrestled with his wet nose. Ingvar squeezed Aravel's hand. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm sorry," mumbled the elf. His fingers twitched in Ingvar's grasp. "I know. It's okay. Let's come out of the bedroll for a minute." Aravel agreed, and the two of them managed to wriggle out. It was somewhat more difficult with limbs heavy from sleep, but soon both were seated in the very small tent. The air outside of the bedroll was starkly cold, and without thinking about it, Ingvar wrapped his arms around Aravel and pulled the smaller man to straddle his lap. "Wh-" "How do you feel? Can I do this?" Ingvar put one arm around Aravel's lower back to keep him steady. He rested his other hand on the elf's hip. "You tell me to stop if you want to stop." Aravel looked tired and somewhat uncertain in the dark. His upper lip and chin were shiny with mess before he abruptly buried his face in his elbow. "It's hahh fine. I... I'm fine with it." Maybe he would have been blushing, but he ducked further into his sleeve. "Huahh-- Hapkstcxh!!" His whole body rocked with it, and he was still hard. Ingvar could feel the press of Aravel's member against his own. "Bless you," he said, and kissed the elf's hair. "Are you warm enough?" "Hnngh... I'm not cold." "Is it okay if I touch?" "It's- hh hh hih- Hhokay. Aptschiu!!" Again, Aravel rocked.  Ingvar kissed him again and then moved his hand from Aravel's hip to between them. He slipped his hand under the elf's robes, finding velvety bare skin awaiting him. Aravel's cock fit in his palm and he closed his fingers around it gently, skin slipping on the beginning of wetness there. "Okay?" Aravel nodded. His cat eyes had gone half-lidded and he was biting his lip. "I might sneeze on you," he said, breathless. Ingvar laughed. "Tell me something I don't know." He rested his forehead against Aravel's. "You're paying for me to have a niiiice, long bath at the next inn we get to." That earned a wry smile. "I'd love to... but my wallet went over the cliff with my bag, remember?" Ingvar squeezed Aravel's cock, earning him a pleased moan. "That's right, isn't it. Then you can make it up to me in a different way." He nuzzled Aravel's hairline. "Can I kiss you?" "Yes, kiss me." Aravel sighed into his mouth, thighs trembling as Ingvar started to stroke him up and down. The elf tasted sweet and salty. Ingvar wondered for a moment if that's what his cock would taste like as well, but there would be time to find out later. Right now, he wanted to bring them both to pleasure before they got too cold to want it. Aravel curled against him as he worked, tucking his face into his sleeve still, catching and guarding against his frequent sniffles and sneezes. Ingvar ran a thumb over Aravel's tip and was rewarded with the sweetest moan. He teased again. "M' going to bite you," gasped Aravel, taking Ingvar's shoulders in both hands. "Please, please." "Easy, sweet one." Ingvar tightened his grip. "Ready?" He knew the elf was close, could feel it in the way he kept tensing his thighs against Ingvar's own. "Yes," Aravel half-sighed, nails just this side of painful in Ingvar's back. "Now, please." They kissed again, and Ingvar worked his hand over Aravel until the smaller man could do nothing but cling and gasp, shaking, as he came explosively over Ingvar's hand and lap. Ingvar followed soon after, although his release was trapped by his breeches. Not ideal, but he could hardly think of that with Aravel still pressed to him, chest heaving, warm and pliant. And sneezy still. "Happtsch! Akptsch! hah- HAH- HUAH-KTSCGH!!" Ingvar laughed and started to rub Aravel's back again, holding him close. "Bless you." Now the front of his neck was messy, too, but the aftershocks of his orgasm relaxed him and he found he didn't care at the moment. "How do you feel?" Aravel sniffled thickly, not moving from where he was leaning against Ingvar. "Tired. Good, but... mnn." "Let's go back to sleep. Hopefully your nose won't bother you too much now. Sounds like you must have got it out, whatever was bothering you." "I don't think that's how it works with a cold," Aravel replied, voice already muzzy.  Ingvar settled him again against his back in the bedroll. "I'll wake you in the morning to strike camp," he said, taking Aravel's hand again in his. "Sleep well." And at least the rest of the night went well. Aravel did sleep soundly until day broke and they had to move on. His sneezing failed to abate in the daytime, however, and when he began to stumble with fever, Ingvar picked him up to carry on his back, strapping their pack to his front. He'd not been expecting to have to deal with it again, but rather than distaste, Aravel's continued sneezing on his neck now made him feel something quite different. He hurried on through the forest to get them both out of the chill and into a nice, warm bed.

[cmyknoise]

Home becomes Home Again

Fandom: MCYT/Dream SMP Characters: Tommyinnit, Technoblade, Philza, Wilbur/Ghostbur, Ranboo & Tubbo are briefly mentioned  Relationships: (Platonic Technoblade & Tommyinnit; Sleepy Bois Inc.) Words: 3995  Summary: Things had gotten a bit too quiet for Techno, and he thinks a lot about his family. After a morning of sparring with Tommy, he has a few ideas and it only helps to make their home feel like home again. AO3 Link

Home didn’t feel like home anymore. It was far too quiet and somber. He’d spent years fighting wars in the empire he and Phil had shared. It was loud, freezing. Things had settled down at a point- Phil had taken in two kids. It was then that Phil discovered that Techno had been a kid too. It was then discovered that he and one of the kids shared a birthday- and from that point on he was officially the unofficial twin of one such Wilbur Soot. He stuck around with Phil and his new family, and at some point he supposed he’d been sucked into it.

Growing up within their empire, Technoblade had once been annoyed by how loud and obnoxious his new family had been, but he’d gotten used to it. He’d gotten used to hearing his younger twin belting out ballads like a bard whenever he pleased. He’d gotten used to Tommy screaming as he would jump from the top step to the bottom, trying to fly like their father. He’d gotten used to the stern lectures and loud laughs that Phil would give them. He missed the chaos. It took awhile to call Phil his dad, he still had trouble with it, but it was an understood thing. They were friends and partners in war, and family at home. He missed the loud moments. He missed the quiet moments.

Home didn’t feel like home anymore. Wilbur was no longer there. Ghostbur stopped by, an echo of who his twin was. He supposed Ghostbur was more of a reflection of when they were younger- when Wilbur’s only concerns were his music and friends and family. Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur, but he was still Techno’s brother. Ghostbur sometimes remembered their childhood- he supposed it was because they were happy memories. It was why the spectre still remembered how to fight- he remembered when they used to spar. Ghostbur didn’t come by often. Techno supposed it was because L’manburg held more recent memories.

Technoblade sat at a lectern in his room, looking through various books and papers. It was late, and the cold icy wind howled outside, shaking the shutters. He hoped Phil was okay. He’d gone out in the morning to go retrieve Ghostbur from L’manburg. According to him, supposedly Ghostbur had gotten a notice of eviction. How they were going to evict a ghost or why was beyond Techno, but the more he heard about L’manburg, the more the hate for the damn country bubbled up within him.

At one point, he wondered if they’d gone too far. Seeing Phil in the control room, hearing Wilbur’s begs for death, and the crater which had been made where land once stood. He’d wondered if they went too far. Had this all been worth it? Had it been right to destroy the place? They’d done an unlawful coup, and based on what the country was doing now...maybe it had been the right decision, maybe. Techno only wished it hadn’t ended in the demise of his twin, a broken family and broken home. There may have been other ways… maybe Techno could’ve found them if he tried harder, or if he tried harder to pull his brother out of his spiraling madness.

The night was loud, and the house grew cold. The fire went out- Techno had to fix that. The house wasn’t empty like it usually was. Tommy was here, sleeping in the basement. No matter how many times Techno tried to coax him upstairs, to sleep in a bed or a couch, the youngest insisted on sticking to the basement. Techno didn’t think forcing the kid would be a good idea. He seemed….fragile. It was strange, Tommy had never been fragile. Honestly if the words Techno lived by were ‘Technoblade never dies’, then he was sure Tommy’s was ‘Tommyinnit is unbreakable’, at least. That’s what he thought until he found his youngest brother in the...state he was in. He looked like if Techno even just poked him, like Tommy would crumble. He decided it was best to let Tommy do what made him happy and feel better, and be there for the background support. Based on what his kid brother had told him… he’d put the pieces together. Dream had hell to pay, that dumb smile would be crushed beneath Techno’s hooves if he had any say on the matter. But that was...that was a later plan.

The fire sputtered to life as Techno added more logs and coal, fueling the furnace to the max. It was the only way the heat seeped into the basement. He should check on Tommy. He’d make it up to him. The moment back in the war- he’d taken it too far, he thinks. The way Tommy shut him out for so long, the trauma he caused- he had to make up for it. There was no fixing it, or taking it back, but he could be better for him. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. He wouldn’t have his last brother be a ghost or become a shell of who he was.

The piglin snatched up a few blankets, and slid down the ladder with. He then kicked open the trap door, climbing his way down into the ‘den’.  He glanced up at the ventilation he installed. He doubted Tommy noticed, but it was at least tolerable down there. He glanced at the doors. Tommy was unintentionally smart with installing three doors. It kept out the cold. He glanced around the dark room eyes landing on the blond, curled up in blankets. He looked at ease when he was sleeping. He looked like how he did before he and Wilbur had left home in the empire. Techno longed for that peace again.

He carefully draped the blankets atop the teen, watching as he curled further into them. Tommy didn’t wake, and Techno took the moment to see how he’d changed. Exile hadn’t treated him kindly. Tommy had more scars on his face than Techno ever remembered. His hair had dulled and faded lighter, a symptom of malnutrition. Tommy was still recovering from that. His hair had grown longer- long enough to need to pull back at times. It made him think of himself, how Wilbur taught him how to do such a thing. Wilbur had taught him how to take care of his thick pink locks.

Technoblade ran a hand through his bangs. He hadn’t really taken care of his hair in months, not since Wilbur did it the morning before the war. Even in his crazed state...he’d taken the time to put Techno’s hair into a tight braid, nice and tidy.

“You know how to do this, right Tech?”

The piglin nodded, running a stone over the edge of his blade as he sharpened it, giving a huff. He knew how to put his hair up. He just preferred Wilbur doing it. That’s what he told himself anyway. The brunette laughed softly. It wasn’t maniacal like the laugh that usually echoed the caves of Pogtopia. It was genuine, a laugh at Technoblade. He’d be offended if circumstances were different.

“Then why am I doing this for you, huh?” Wilbur joked as he brushed through Techno’s long hair, not at all stopping. The sound of stone scraping against metal paused as Technoblade gave another soft huff.

“Because you braid it. It stays out of the way better.”

“Awe~ Techie doesn’t know how to braid, does he? Big bad Technoblade- I never taught you how to do that, did I?”

There was a snort from the piglin before he shook his head some, “No, you didn’t.”

“Well...here,” The brunette scooted over some, taking the ends of Techno’s hair, “it’s real simple. You split the hair into three, like this,” he held his hands out with the hair, showing Techno. The piglin set the sword and stone aside as he watched his brother’s hands, gently splitting his hair into sections.

“From here, you take one of the side strands, and cross it over the center. This then becomes the center,” Wilbur demonstrated as he spoke, showing Technoblade slowly as he switched the strands, “You then take the other side strands, switching it with the middle, you repeat this, just switching the sides with the middle. There are more complicated braids, but this is the quickest to do, it’s what I always do with your hair.”

Technoblade smiled some, turning quickly back to his sword. Wilbur rolled his eyes as he undid the braid, starting instead from the top of Techno’s long hair, pulling it back to braid it completely. Techno gave a soft huff and a quiet thanks.

He hadn’t taken his hair down since. It was unkempt, the braid hardly had form anymore. It wasn’t clean or brushed out like usual. Techno hadn’t the heart to take it out yet. He sometimes noticed Ghostbur staring- the ghost had tried to do it for him, but couldn’t seem to grasp his hair, let alone take out the braid and redo it. The ghost seemed to have trouble making contact with living things opposed to inanimate objects. It was something that Techno noticed saddened the ghost- his blue seemed to spill from his pockets whenever he realized he couldn’t easily make contact with others.

He imagined the exile with Tommy wasn’t easy. Even in death, Ghostbur seemed just as much driven as he was in life. He knew it must’ve hurt that he couldn’t help Tommy much, or stop Dream. He hoped Phil would one day figure out how to bring his brother back, if he wanted to come back anyway.

Shaking his head, the piglin fixed the blankets on Tommy, tucking the teen in. He gently ruffled up his hair before heading back to the ladder. He left the trapdoor open this time- it’d help with heat, and he doubted that Dream would come searching so early in the morning. The downstairs doors were locked anyway- he’d have to pass Techno first.

Techno dimmed down the lanterns in the main room, glancing out his windows. He hoped Phil and Wilbur had taken shelter before the storm hit. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go searching in the morning. With a soft huff, he laid down on the couch in the main room, tugging the throw blanket over himself. He was too tired to change, it was late anyway.

₍ᐢ･⚇･ᐢ₎

The morning brought about a bright sun and calmed down winds. Techno had made breakfast, some potato pancakes with honey syrup from his bees. Tommy seemed quite happy with it. When Tommy was here, home started to feel more like home.

Phil still wasn’t back, and while Tommy ate Techno sent him a quick message via their communicators. He was pleased to see Phil respond quickly. They were a ways out, taken shelter in the night, but they were safe. That made him feel better.

“Hey, Toms, want to practice not being awful at pvp?”

“Oi! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Techno chuckled softly, standing up, “Come on, I’ll teach you some sword stuff, before it starts snowing again.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the excitement he had if he tried.

Techno grabbed a few swords on the way out- golden ones, they wouldn’t do a lot of damage but they were good to practice with. He had Tommy put on his coat, an old outfit from when he was younger. He was surprised the empire garb fit Tommy so well, but he was glad the kid could stay warm.

Outside in the snow, Techno taught Tommy how to properly defend blows, they’d been doing this for an hour, easy.  The kid was a natural when it came to the offensive, better than Wilbur had been at the same age, but Tommy sucked at getting critical hits and blocking attacks, “Toms you can’t take your eye off of the target, and you have to keep your stance strong.”

“Got it, got it-” Tommy groaned, blocking one of Techno’s slashes, with his sword, taking a step back as Techno pushed forward, copying what he was told, “It’d be much easier if I could see-” With a huff, he blew his wavy blond hair out of his face temporarily, but with another move it was back in front of his eyes. Techno rolled his, and lowered his sword.

“I think spar time can be put on pause. I can teach you how to disarm a foe tomorrow,” He put his sword in the sheath on his belt, offering a hand out to his brother. Tommy put away his own sword, taking the piglin’s hand, “Yeah yeah, nearly better than you at this point, maybe will be in a few more lessons.” The teen grinned proudly.

“Heh? Absolutely not Tommy. You’re better than Wilbur was at your age though, he sucked with a sword.”

“I remember that,” Tommy paused, quieting some as he looked forward as they walked. The mention of their brother seemed to kill the mood, and Techno was not about to let that happen today, “Let’s warm up. Phil should be home soon.”

The two brothers went inside, both taking off their heavy winter clothes, putting the tools aside. After some clean up, and a quick snack of home-made chips, they found themselves on the couch in front of the fireplace. Tommy was fussing with his hair. No matter where he pushed it, it seemed to fall right back in his face.

Techno gave a snort, “Why don’t you just cut it?”

“No! It’ll look like shit. Rather have it long than lookin’ like shit. I have a brand.”

“You could get Phil to cut it.”

“I will not let the old man cut my hair! He just chops it off with a sword, and that is not very pog, probably cut my head off along with my hair.”

Techno snorted, suppressing some laughter. There was a noise at the door as it was pushed open, and speaking of, Phil came inside, Ghostbur by his side. The older man set down a few of his packs by the door, “Did I hear someone just call me an old man?”

Tommy gave a yelp, “Nonono no! Nope!” He grinned. Techno just laughed, as did Phil.

“Sorry I’m late, the storm last night kept us on the shores, and I stopped by the village to pick up some supplies, heard that a large storm is comin’ and we may all get snowed in.”

Techno groaned at the thought. They’d have to go shelter up the bee and turtle farm. Phil seemed to understand the meaning of the groan and he just chuckled, “Seems you two have been getting along-”

“Yeah, Toms hasn’t been too much trouble. How’s L’manburg?”

Ghostbur hummed, “They’re preparing a festival!”

Techno grimaced, “Didn’t go so well last time.”

“I think that may be the plan,” The ghost grabbed the packs and carried them over to the chests to organize, “I’m not sure though! I don’t think I can take part. Eviction notice.”

“Oh yeah- what’s with that?” Techno frowned. He still couldn’t believe they’d evict Ghostbur- he’d even helped rebuild their country on stilts.

Phil hummed, “Well, when we were packing up, Ranboo stopped by- the ender hybrid? Nice kid. He asked what we were doin’, I told him we were leavin’. He didn’t seem to know why, but we mentioned the notice. He was confused- said he’d been to all the meetings and hadn’t heard it bein’ spoken of, but we showed him the notice. Wasn’t signed or anything, but he agreed it may be best to go, just in case.”

“Ranboo hasn’t been liking L’manburg recently! I haven’t either-” Ghostbur furrowed his eyebrows as he put away some leather and wool, “Tubbo imprisoned people and has been holding trials. I remember that’s not the L’manburg way, but he wouldn’t listen much. Tensions are high, I think.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, “I think I’m gonna move my stuff up here guys, if it’s going to storm I don’t think the den is a good fucking place to be- would hate to freeze to death.” He chuckled some, standing up, “Tech where should I put everything?”

The piglin gave a hum, “I can move around the chests, by the brewing stands would be a good place for now. I’ll have to extend the house some when the storm is older. It wasn’t built for all of us.”

Tommy nodded before heading down the ladders. Techno gave a small huff, running a hand through his hair before getting up, “I’ll move around the chests, set up cots. Phil if you want you can go cover up the bees and turtles, there should be some tarps and leather instilators on the first floor chests-”

“Gotcha mate, will do,” Phil gave a small wave before heading outside and to the back, shutting the door securely. Wilbur hummed, “Oh! Techno, can Friend stay downstairs with your cow for awhile, he’s outside, but I don’t want anything happening to him- I don’t know what I’d do if something did-”

“Yeah, go ahead Ghostbur…” Techno paused, “Hey Ghostbur?”

“Yeah Techno?” “Can you braid shorter hair?”

“Oh! Oh yes, you can! You just have to make smaller strands- why?”

“Just wonderin’. You mind if I borrow some blue? Think I may need some later.”

The ghost gave a grin, shoving his hand into his pocket as he handed Techno a small pouch of blue powder. The piglin took it, and went on to reorganize the main room, while his spectre of a brother finished up organizing and went on out to help Friend into the lower house.

₍ᐢ･⚇･ᐢ₎

Home started to feel like home when Techno could hear Phil snoring from upstairs and the warmth of the fire bombarded him in the face as he threw another log on. Tommy slept nearby, a light wind from outside whistling against the windows. Home started to feel like home when his family was all there. Phil was safe and around again. Ghostbur was not Wilbur but he was still his brother and he was here and well. Tommy was getting better at being chaotic and unbreakable again.

Speaking of Tommy, Techno noticed the floorboards creak and the weight of the couch shift as the teen sat behind him, rubbing his eyes and yawning softly, huffing hair from his face again.

“Dreams again?” “Yeah, fuckin’ nasty ones too,” Tommy gave a small whine as he blinked himself awake. Techno swore he’d make sure that the cause of his brother’s nightmares would pay the price.

“Hair still bugging you?”

Tommy gave a soft laugh and a nod, “Fuckin’ awful, innit?”

Techno chuckled, “I...I think I may have a solution for you.” Techno turned some to him. Tommy gave a hum, “Try anything big man, too tired to care, sick of the fuckin scratchy feelin’ on my face-” He gave another yawn.

The piglin gave a nod, pulling a few things from his pocket, setting it beside him, “Come here then, Toms.” Tommy nodded and scoot right over.

Techno brushed his fingers through Tommy’s hair gently, giving a soft huff as he parted it. God when did his raccoon-looking-ass of a brother brush his hair? He was one to question, really, huh? Techno grabbed a small elastic band, and took the back of Tommy’s hair. It was far too short in the back to do anything with other than tie it into a short ponytail, but it kept the hair at the sides of his head out of the way. He motioned for Tommy to face him, and tiredly the teen did. Techno then gently parted away Tommy’s bangs, and slowly he parted them into three.

“Side… middle.... side…” Techno muttered as he carefully braided Tommy’s hair, focusing on the pattern. Tommy gave a small laugh but let him continue. When it was completed, he pinned it along the side of his head and behind his ear. Tommy reached up, touching it briefly before grinning.

Techno chuckled, “Hope it helps, go back to bed Toms. If you do I’ll show you my secret stash of chocolate made from cocoa beans. Don’t tell Phil.”

Tommy nodded, “Yeah- alright. Thanks, blade.”

Techno gave a snort, “Alright, child. Go to bed.” He stood, letting Tommy head back to his cot. He still had a few things to do on his own.

Both failed to notice the head peeking down from the ladder from upstairs, and the smile on a certain ghost’s face, or the happy tears which fell down the ghost’s cheeks.

Once Tommy was in bed, Techno went to the kitchen and started carefully boiling some water, adding in the blue from Ghostbur. For the first time in months, Technoblade reached back and pulled out the old hair tie from his hair, running his fingers through the matted braids of his hair, undoing the mess.

His hair was still clean, he washed it, but now it was wavy from being forced into a braid for so long, and it was definitely damaged in some way. That was a problem to fix later. He sighed as he combed through his hair carefully, bringing a stool near the stove as he waited for water to boil, combing through the knots in his hair, making it smooth again. It hurt some, and he stared at the hair tie a bit too long, but he pocketed it for safekeeping. Techno tied his hair back some, and took a few thick strands of his hair, separating it from the rest. After a tedious process of switching boiling blue water to a bowl, he would lean in and dunk the strands of hair into the blue, staining the pale pink with the deep vibrant color.

Home was feeling more lively and colorful, and it was time for Techno to change to match.

After carefully dying bits of his hair, and tying it back into a long ponytail, he got to work on braiding it, just like Wilbur had done for him in the past. After he was satisfied, he stored the remainder of the dye and cleaned up, going to bed as if he’d done nothing at all, but it was the first time in a long time that he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

₍ᐢ･⚇･ᐢ₎

In the morning, Phil laughed and smiled, and the family couldn’t stop talking about Techno’s blue additions of hair, or how clean the braid looked. They also couldn’t stop talking about how Tommy could see again through his hair. They couldn’t stop talking about Friend downstairs, or the breakfast Techno had made.

Phil laughed at how secretly sappy Techno really was. He commented that Tommy looks good with his hair tied back (promptly getting a laugh and ‘damn right’ from Tommy).

Techno brushed Phil off with the excuse for ‘new eras bringing new changes’, and that it matched their empire outfits- it was time to recreate what they had before (that included recreating their family, but he wouldn’t say that).

Tommy wouldn’t stop joking about the blue, but he also couldn’t stop touching his braided bangs or the small ponytail. He also wouldn’t stop bothering Phil about being old.

Ghostbur smiled. For the first time in a very long time, the transparent dust in his hands didn’t turn blue. He remembered teaching Techno how to braid, he wouldn’t tell him that he saw how careful he was with Tommy when braiding his hair. He wouldn’t tell him how happy he was that he was able to pass down something despite his death. He’d smile and laugh along, but the soft yellow dust in his hands showed just how happy he felt to be home, that his brothers got along again, that his father was there with them again.

Home became home again, and this time, they’d keep it that way.

[hardyimagines]

Rumors

Drabble. little bit of angst + little bit of fluff

Warnings: mild physical aggression

The icy floorboards welcomed your barefeet as you quietly traipsed across the dust-ridden wooden floor. The ground was warmer than the surrounding room, tense and silent. The fight that had taken place earlier seemed to still linger in the room. The yells echoed throughout your head despite the fact that the only sound taking place was the crackling from the dancing flame in the fireplace as it ate the coals and log tucked away inside the spot.

Alfie was seated on the sofa. He had a blanket draped across his lap, lopsided and crumpled as he laid his forearms on his thighs, fingers pinched around an old novel he’d found a few days ago. The blue-eyed man was pretending to read the words but no matter how many times he tried to absorb the information in front of him, he couldn’t comprehend anything he was reading. He could hear you tiptoeing through the room and toward the kitchen. He knew you were trying to avoid another altercation. The one that had happened earlier hadn’t ended on good terms. His eyes slid to the clock in the corner, it was past midnight, too late for another disagreement anyway. He eyed the oversized necessity as the minute hand ticked by quietly. His observation didn’t last long before he looked back down at his book, fingers lifting to pinch the frame of his glasses so he could adjust them. He kept a close eye on you, peripheral vision trusty and reliable. He caught a final glimpse of you, vanishing through the doorway and into the kitchen.

You just wanted a hot cup of tea. You needed something to relax you, to help lull you to sleep. It was hard when you were left on your own, Alfieless. When the pair of you fought, you were both stubborn, equally refusing to apologize for what had taken place. Sometimes the tension wore away and you went about it as if nothing had happened. Other times, he’d strike up a conversation and apologize without ever having to say those simple words. ‘I’m sorry.’ It was like a weighted phrase to him. You were no better though, just as refusing to say them.

You let a soft sigh fall past your lips as you drew a small mug out of the cabinet and set it on the clean counter. Your fingertips brushed along the handle as you did your best to push the memory of earlier to the farthest corner of your mind. It didn’t work. It was front and center.

Your shoulders were still sore from where he’d unexpectedly pressed you against the nearby wall. It had been a bit rough, too sudden for you to have been able to prepare yourself.

Earlier that day

A sharp gasp fell from your parted lips. The muscles in your back and the bones of your shoulders tightened as you were slammed up against the wall leading to the kitchen. Alfie’s eyes were wild, absent, you didn’t recognize him at all as he held you in place. His grip on your arms was tight, fingers sinking into the warm flesh of your tender skin as he peered down at you.

“What the hell is your problem?” He spat. It was evident your moaning and sighing and need to avoid him throughout the day had finally gotten on his last nerve.

“You.” You shoved at him, an attempt to free yourself from his strong grasp, but he tightened his grip and pushed you back more firmly.

“Me?” He almost laughed. His tone dropped with disbelief. He was the only one of the two of you who had a right to be upset.

“You’ve been rude all day.” You struggled pointlessly in his strong grasp. The curls that hadn’t been long enough to stay tucked away in your tied hair fell in front of your eyes, tickling your cheeks. The strands lifted with your soft breaths. Confidence and bravery shown in those big eyes of yours, but he saw the fear that tagged alongside, cowering behind the seemingly stronger display of emotions. Telling him how you felt could go one of two ways. He’d be understanding and hear you out about why you were so bothered or he’d lash out.

He cocked a brow. He had a lot on his mind, a lot of things had been said to him today. He hadn’t revealed any of that to you yet though. “Right and when was this, pet. You’re the one who’s been stomping around, sighing and moaning and complaining, yeah. I haven’t fucking done anything.” His eyes narrowed, the impatience that radiated off of him seemed to gather in his fingertips, forcing him to press on your arms just a little rougher, trying to pull the words from your throat quicker.

Your jaw clenched, pink lips pressing against each other before a heavy scoff fell from your lips. You winced in the slightest beneath his touch, head tilting back so your chin was turned up at him. “You’ve been rude to me all day long and the second that I return the favor, I’m the bad guy.” With all the strength you could muster, your palms pressed against the front of his chest and you shoved him back as hard as you could. He moved maybe a couple of inches, hands falling from their place on your arms. You dipped around him and made movement to head for the sofa. Leaving wasn’t exactly an option, storming out of the house to aimlessly wonder around. You had nowhere else to stay so fighting with the man you were dating seemed to be the only thing there was to do. “So, maybe you want to be a big boy,” You squinted. “And tell me why you’re acting like such an ass.”

Alfie did chuckle this time. A low, husky sound fell from his lips as he lifted his hand to his chin and pulled lazily at the curls that stuck out of his skin. “Alright.” He barked. He was saving his questions until the end of the night when the two of you were tucked away in bed, but you could feel that something wasn’t right, and he clearly wasn’t being his usual loving self so the talk was going to have to happen now. The boots he wore everyday were dirtier than usual, louder than usual too as he stomped across the room, a trail of dirt following him. He settled in the center of the rug parallel to you. The only thing between your bodies was the dirty coffee table, stained with spilled coffee and food crumbs that he could never seem to clean up. “The lads have shared some.. rather fucking infuriating information, yeah, bit agitating really.” He wasn’t angry just yet, more frustrated than anything. He hadn’t said what needed to be said, but once he did you’d know just how far his anger went.

“Go on.” Your tone was sharp, slightly bored as you leaned back against the cushions, one leg lifting to drape across the other. You laid your hands in your lap, soft eyes moving along his features as you waited for him to spit out some poor excuse that wouldn’t help him out of the situation he’d thrown himself into.

“You’ve apparently been sneaking around with Charlie.” His brows lifted, scruffy facial hair above his lip rubbing against the hair that gathered on his chin as he pulled his lips in. “So ive been told by a few of the fucking lads, right.” His blue eyes seemed much darker beneath the glow of the fire in the corner. As if his emotions could change the color of his orbs. You straightened on the sofa. He could tell you were getting ready to speak. “I’ll let you explain yourself, won’t I, yeah, because I am the type of man to give my girl a chance to defend herself, right, so.” His arms folded over his chest, arms flexing beneath the thin material of his white shirt. “Are you fucking sneaking around?” Alfie growled.

The air in your lungs vanished. A sharp pain formed in your chest, a stinging, agitating feeling that picked and poked at you. “Leave it to you, Alfie, to accuse me of cheating based on what your trusty lads tell you.” Huffing, you pushed yourself up from the sofa. “You’re pathetic. If you honestly believe that I’d ever even think about someone else let alone mess around..” Your tone was growing sharper. Your voice was growing louder. Alfie unfolded his arms, hands pressing against his hips as he stared at you.

“Didn’t say that, now did I, I repeated, right, what they fucking said and am now generously giving you the fucking opportunity to explain yourself.” He suddenly bellowed.

Exasperated, you lifted your hands to your face and rubbed it down. “By asking me for an explanation, you’re siding with them!” Was he really this stupid! You stepped forward, knees grazing the coffee table. “I’m not going to recite the entirety of every conversation I’ve ever had with Charlie. You either trust me, as you’re meant to, or you believe those absolute children!” You almost shrieked. The amount of discomfort in your stomach made you curl your hands in the sides of the fabric, your bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Alfie was in the midst of moistening his lips so he could bite back a response but right when he was conjuring up something smart to spit in your direction, he was pulled back to earlier that day. Reliving the oh so lovely news. The new assistant, Ronald.. his brows furrowed. Maybe it was Donald. He squinted. He couldn’t remember the bloke’s name. He could, however, remember the way that multiple lads poured into the room, all of them joining in with the newbie’s words to rat you out. You were cheating, according to all of them. Alfie had been flustered in his office when the group started to explain what they saw.

Charlie was younger, closer to your age. He was brunette with big, brown eyes that seemed like the color of honey beneath the bright sun’s rays. He was a trusted employee. Not anymore. Today, he would be fired.

Alfie, at first, was settled in his office chair with his legs spread wide and his features calm. He absentmindedly twisted the chain attached to the frame of his glasses, ears straining to hear each of the lads as they told him about when, where, and what you had done with the boy. He could hear the quakes in their voices as they tried their best to maintain their confidence. Revealing something so private to someone who was the least bit understanding was, quite frankly, terrifying.

The low drumming of the rain outside hit the window. It was a soft patter, reeling your attention to it as Alfie stood, faraway. You hoped his memory was treating him well, reminding him of exactly what was said so he could pick at the spewed lies. You weren’t worried. What proof did anybody have? You knew. Nothing. You were faithful, honest, in love with the brute stood on the other side of the table. Part of you felt sick that he would trust someone else’s word over your own, but if you had a group of people swarming you with a confession — a secret, that Alfie had been messing around with another girl.. it would be hard to brush off. You stepped to the side, ready to remove yourself from your trapped position between the table and sofa. Alfie mirrored your footsteps, pulled from his thoughts. Your eyes darted to him and the suddeness of his actions, no longer interested in the raindrop trails that stained the glass in the corner of the room. Alfie’s breaths were slow, he was ready to explain. He took to long to speak. So you did.

“When you’re ready to apologize,” Your tone was no kinder than a few seconds ago, especially not now as he stepped closer. He was intimidating and tall and you didn’t appreciate the way he closed in on you. He cut you off.

“Me? Pet, I ain’t the one behaving like a whore, am I?” He placed his hands on his hips, eyeing you intently. Your every movement was scrutinized, as if you’d fidget or tremble or do something to give away that you were lying.

You stiffened. Was he being serious? Scoffing in disbelief, you lifted your hand and jabbed your palm into the middle of his chest, jaw clenching as you halted him from coming any closer. “What did you just say?” The man looked like a stranger in that moment. Never, in all the time that the two of you had been together, had he ever called you anything similar to what he’d just had the nerve to call you.

“Do you have another name for it?” The man uttered.

“Oh my god. You’re unbelievable!” Your insides churned with disgust. Who was he? You didn’t recognize him in this moment.

“Right, Y/n, I think that’d be you, yeah, seeing as you’re the unfaithful one. Can’t seem to keep your fucking legs closed. You’ve got no right no be upset, lass. You’ve been caught, is that it?” Truth be told, he couldn’t imagine you messing around behind his back. When the two of you had finally got together, it had taken quite a while. He made advances toward you and you did your best to brush them off. It had taken him months to get you to agree to go out with him, you were only hesitant because he was your boss, but the second you caved.. the dates had gone beyond good and your relationship had blossomed into something unbelievable. He couldn’t seem to figure out why four boys would tell him you were screwing one of his employees though if it weren’t true. What was in it for them?

A surge of anger shot through you like a shot of adrenaline. Without any control over yourself, your hand lifted and swung in his direction. You waited for the impact of your palm colliding with his face, but his reflexes were faster than you had initially expected. His hand was tight around your wrist and without any effort at all, he pushed you back so your body fell against the couch. He covered you, like a blanket did on most nights. His hand settled beside your head, eyes glistening with so much anger and betrayal as he stared down at you. You thrashed, hitting at his chest and bucking at him to get off of you.

Cyril stood in the corner. He had been laying down, listening to the pair of you, but when Alfie pushed you down on the couch and you were frantic to get free, he started to bark. His bark was loud, low, a heavy sound that made most people take a few steps back.

“Quiet!” Alfie shouted to the dog, doing his best to keep you still. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he wasn’t your punching bag.

“I hate you.” You told him breathily. “I hate you so much.” Your hits were harder, your legs kicked feverishly. He could see your eyes, brewing with salty tears as you did your absolute best to escape his strong grip. “Get off of me, Alfie!”

“Why, so you can try and hit me again?” The room was hot and your throat was tight as he continued to spew venomous and hurtful things in your direction. He’d only ever made you cry, one other time, and it had been when you were tired and sick and wanted him to come home and hold you. He’d insisted he had to work, but the second those tears raced along your warm cheeks, he couldn’t deny you. He’d ended up coming home with you.

“Alfie, please.” Your voice broke. You grew still beneath him, slumped. Your head rolled to the side and your chest lifted with your slow, quiet breaths. “If you really think I’d cheat, then I should go.”

Alfie clenched his jaw. “I want an explanation.”

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you, Alfie.” To anyone walking by the small house and peering through the windows that lined the front, the pair of you were probably a sight, Alfie straddling your hips as you slumped beneath him. “If you really think,” Your head rolled forward so you could see him clearly. “I would mess around with someone else then why are you even asking. You should’ve left.”

Alfie exhaled heavily. “I don’t want to believe it. I’m waiting for you to..” He shrugged in the slightest. He’d never been in this position before.

“For me to what, Alfie? Assure you. That’s not my place. If someone is spreading lies about me — that you assume are lies, you should get to the root of them. Did you even ask Charlie?” Sitting up in the best you could, you took this rare, vulnerable moment and pushed him back and off of you. He helped, falling back and landing on the cushions. He eyed you uncertainly, big blue eyes falling to his lap.

“Why would four boys come to me and tell me you was fucking messing around with Charlie, right, if that weren’t the case?” He sighed heavily, hands lifting to cover his face. He rubbed it down tiredly, unsure of what to believe.

“I don’t know Alfie. Why would four boys come to their big, scary boss and tell him something that they think would make him trust them. They’re trying to gain respect by doing right by you. But they’re young, stupid, and they’re doing it the wrong way.” Shaking your head, you stood from the sofa. “And you’re an idiot for even bringing this home. You know, as well as I do, that..” You couldnt finish the sentence. Alfie was all you wanted, all you’d ever want, and he was accusing you of being unfaithful. Your heart hurt. “Think long and hard about what you’re going to say next because if it’s not ‘I’m sorry’ you can save it and I’ll leave on my own accord.” You stepped around the coffee table and slowly left the room. You needed time alone.

12:30 A.M.

The small house smelt strongly of tea. The scent was warm, inviting. It made Alfie’s stomach growl and his mouth water. He was tempted to ask if you’d made enough for two glasses or if there was only enough for you. He didn’t mind making his own, he was just curious if you’d had extra. The man had closed the book a few minutes ago, it was laid face down on his thighs as he slumped against the arm of the sofa. Cyril had quietly followed you into the kitchen long ago, curious to know what you were doing and if you’d give him anything. Alfie inhaled deeply. The fight could only last for so long. He hadn’t said a single word to you since earlier, your last words being that he needed to apologize and that wasn’t easy for him. You knew that, it was exactly why you’d said it.

You were seated at the dining room table. Your feet lazily hung, skimming the tile of the cold floor beneath you as you took your time to sip the hot beverage. You’d built up a tolerance over the years, it wasn’t so hard to drink the drink without wincing. You were impatient, always trying to sip at the scalding liquid before the steam had had a chance to stop lifting from the top. The mug was set on the table, you lazily rotating it as you ran through your endless thoughts. You waited for Alfie, hopeful that he would at least mumble out some pathetic form of an apology. You set your elbow on the table and your cheek in your hand as your droopy eyes fluttered. They were heavy, desperate to close, but the second that you did, you’d be restless.

Neither of you moved for what felt like forever. You’d drift for a few moments, listening to the soft tap of Cyril’s nails against the floor or the clank when you’d lift your mug and set it back down. It was only when the heavy sound of alfies boots filled the room that you looked over your shoulder and toward the door.

He was stood tall, wide. His arms were folded as per usual. He was stern, quiet. The man stepped into the room without so much as a glance in your direction. His footsteps were loud, thumping against the floor as he moved through the room and over to the cabinet. He was going to make his own tea. You watched him closely, taking advantage of the fact that his back was toward you. He couldn’t call you out for staring. You shifted. Why were you anyway? He’d hurt your feelings — more than he probably knew. Directing your stare back to the tea instead, you pursed your lips. You were not going to speak first. You were not going to offer him your drink because you were too sleepy to finish it. You were not going to ask him if he was coming to bed or bring up the topic from earlier. But you didn’t have to.

“Pet.” His voice was low. It was almost inaudible, even in the silent room. Your lashes tickled your eyelids as you lifted your gaze to the man. “Are you awake enough to talk?” The huskiness of his voice soothes you. You wanted to go to sleep so badly, but you couldn’t, not without him. Nodding softly, you let out a soft hum before shuffling in the slightest on the chair. Watching him as he moved from the cabinets to the sink to the stove, your pink lips parted.

“I don’t want to argue though, Alfie. It’s.. I’m so tired.” You confessed.

The man looked in your direction. He was quiet as he observed you. His big, curious eyes slid along your sleepy expression, watching the way you tried to hold your head up by your cheek, steadying it with your palm. Your shoulders were slumped and your body looked heavy. But he knew, just like you did, sleep wouldn’t come so easily.

“I don’t have it in me to shout, yeah? Let’s go in the living room. It’s much warmer.” Lifting his cup of tea, he moved over to the table and lifted yours as well. You stood from the creaky chair, stepping in front of him so the two of you could move into the living room to settle on the sofa in front of the fire. You dropped down first, lifting his book out of the way so you didn’t crush it. Laying it on the coffee table, you waited for him to join you before you lifted the blanket he’d been using and pulled it to yourself. It smelt like him. It was very comforting. The man set the mugs on the table beside the book before looking in your direction.

“Right.. so.” He was quiet, pondering what he should say first. You knew an apology wouldn’t be instant. “I’m sorry for how I acted today.” Your eyes widened at the words. Eyeing him under an inquisitive stare, you drew the blanket up to your chin and eyed him closely. “Shouldn’t have fucking manhandled you and pushed you on the sofa or pinned you to the wall, yeah, that wasn’t fucking fair for me to do, was it?” You were quiet, patient. Surely that wasn’t all he wanted to apologize for. “I’m sorry for accusing you of cheating as well, right, but it is a bit fucking difficult, yeah, to be told something by the lads and then to just ignore it.”

“I didn’t ask you to ignore it, Alfie.” You whispered. “But you could’ve informed me about what was being said, you could’ve asked me about It instead of pinning me to the wall and shouting at me and calling me names.” Your voice was still soft, no anger in your tone now. You wanted to resolve this. “Tell me the Truth..”

“No.” He answer your question before you could ask it. “I didn’t believe them, alright. But put yourself in my shoes, yeah, for a second, right, if multiple people came to you and said they fucking saw me with another woman, what would you do?” His blue eyes slid between yours, searching for the answer. He already knew. You’d lash out like he had.

“Kill her.” You stated nonchalantly. “And then you.” The amusement in your gaze carried over to his as you shuffled. “I understand completely that you had to have had doubts, but Alfie, you shouldn’t have been as rude to me as you were. If I cheated, which I didn’t, then yes, you should’ve been a cunt. But I’ve said maybe a word to Charlie..” Alfie’s eyes shot to you. He didn’t even want to talk about this anymore. He knew you hadn’t done anything with the boy. He just wanted to kiss and make up and then fire the lads who’d lied about you.

Alfie shifted on the sofa before draping his arm across the length of the back. You, without much hesitation, shifted so that your body filled the gap between his side and your own. Crawling along the furniture until your body was pressed firmly against his own, you opened the blanket and draped it over his body before laying your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, pet.” He murmured, fingertips brushing through your soft strands of hair.

“You’re all I want.” You promised him tiredly, arm hooking around his front securely. Drawing him into you, you let your eyes flutter shut.

Alfie was quiet for a few moments, his touch brushing from your hair to roam the length of your arm. He was gentle, his touch was caring. He never wanted to be in a position like this again. It was the most he’d ever felt scared. He’d thought he was going to lose you. “I love you.” He whispered, warm lips meeting the skin of your forehead. He had to lean forward to achieve the soft kiss and after he had, he saw your face. Your eyes were closed and your lips were parted. You were fast asleep against his chest. Your faint breaths tickled the skin of his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned and your hand was curled loosely in the fabric of his shirt, legs curled inward to rest on his lap and body growing heavier and heavier against his the deeper you fell into oblivion. He didn’t blame you. It was late and the second the pair of you had made up, your body let itself give out, thankful for the reassurance.

Alfie moved his attention to the fire before smiling lazily. Reaching for his glasses, his book, and his tea, he left his arm draped around your small body, embracing you as he resumed his reading. He was tired too, but he wanted to savor this moment for a while before it was time to carry you off to bed with him.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @heyitscam99 @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @clevertheoristpainter @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh

@wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @overitall2018 @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack @axxl-rose @slytherintothedeep @lucreziaborgiatheunholyfamily @demoncrypt1066 @phire23 @orphiceseum @advictedtohim @uncreativezx @hp-hogwartsexpress @captainbuckyboobear

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

A ROTTMNT Fantasy Fic: Coin

Characters: Donnie and Raph

Summary: It’s easy to jump to conclusion sometimes. It’s what you do afterwards that makes the difference

added note: this is a fic i wrote for @void-inked-pen during the holidays, i’m hoping by spreading out my holiday stories i can stay on break longer

Word Count:1447

Pairing

Rating G

“You know, you don’t have to do look out every night.”

It was only because he could sense Raph approaching from behind that Donnie didn’t jump out of his skin and (try) to knock him out with his hooked staff. “I’m used to uneven sleeping hours. That and Leo is still having trouble adjusting to his new….’lifestyle.’” Which was a way of saying the pampered prince wasn’t used to sleeping somewhere different every night. Mikey had offered to take up look out one night and it was only through constant begging that Raph and Donnie caved and let him try. But it had proven too tiring for the youngest turtle, who Donnie had found a few hours later sleeping at his post with a bandit poking through his pocket.

Which of course left Raph and Donnie.

Raph should have been asleep by now, but without looking up from his tin cup he hears Raph shuffle slightly as though he had social ants in his pants. With a dip of his head, he invites Raph closer. The snapping turtle shuffled closer before sitting on the log that Don had perched by. It was a unspoken truth between them that, out of their brothers, that Raph and Donnie felt the most uncomfortable around each other. Which was saying something considering Donnie and Leo’s history. But at least the two middle children had found a place in each other’s lives formed by both their past with Big Mama and everything that happened with the Mud Dogs. And no one in their right mind could dislike Mikey who, despite having some boundary issues, was as bright and warm as the sun his powered-up eyes reflected.

Then there was Raph and Donnie.

A bounty hunter and a thief.

But Donnie was used to awkward situations. So as he sips from his hot coffee and enjoys watching his breath turn into mist, he was only vaguely aware of Raph tapping his foot or tapping his fingers together like a anxious archer getting ready to make a shot. He didn’t have all night or want Raph to keep stewing in his own misery, so he took the initiative. “It’s fine Raph, I forgive you.”

It was almost funny to see the snapping turtle jump and look at him in surprise. “I-how-“

“Because you’ve been a proverbial bag of nerves ever since it happened Raph. Please stop torturing yourself. You’re a bounty hunter, you acted on your instincts.” Though it was Donnie’s own instincts that made him curl his forearm tighter to his chest.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

Next thing Donnie knew his out held arm is suddenly in Raph’s hand, pulling him around to look in his half panicked, if angry, eyes; like a panicked parent who had caught a thief child juggling knives, or dragon eggs. Raph turned over Donnie’s wrist to reveal copper coins bunched up in his hand. “What are you doing?!” Raph demanded in a hushed whisper, “You can't be pickpocketing when you’re traveling with us. What if someone saw you?!”

Don blinked, and it’s only when he started to notice the pain radiating from his arm he said, “What are you talking about?” Donnie demanded between his teeth.

A familiar olive green hand, lacking even more familiar rings, grabs a hold of Raph’s finger drawing both of them to the illusionist now pulling back on Raph’s finger, under his dark blue hood yellow eyes glared at Raph. “Let. Him. Go,” he said in a quiet voice dripping with venom. “Now.”

Maybe it was the shock of seeing Leo there, but Raph looks to where Donnie had been standing, finally noticing the old woman sitting on the ground dressed in rags and a dirty chipped bowl that had a few meager coins in it, whose trembling hand had been raised to take the coins from Donnie’s hand but were now recoiled at the conflict. Donnie takes advantage of Raph’s shock and pulled his arm free before kneeling down. “Here you go grandmother,” he said making sure to place the coins in her hand, closing her other hand over it. “Tomorrow will be better,” he promised her before standing up. Leo’s at his side a moment later, trying to roll up Don’s sleeve to check for bruising but Donnie brushes his hands aside with a gentle pat on the head. “Thanks for your help,” he said with sincerity before walking away. Leaving Raph to watch after him, and even though he doesn’t look back, Raph presses his hand over his face in regret.

(#)(#)(#)(#)

Donnie is not used to having flashbacks, but he blames that on the reason he jumps when he is suddenly lifted off the ground to sit on the fallen log by Raph’s side, “Raph-!” he says but the bounty hunter is already rolling up his sleeve. Donnie would have to have ANOTHER talk about personal space and boundaries-

He had checked his arm earlier, and though the spots where Raph’s fingers had made contact were dark, they hadn’t swollen up. But that apparently was of little comfort to Raph whose face twists up in regret. “I’m so sorry Doniel,” he says, already digging through his bag. It's strange for Donnie to see such a large figure tremble so bad. He tries to put a hand on his arm but Raph has already pulled out a roll of bandages. Donnie barely has time to pull his arm away before he finally grabs Raph by the shoulders, “Raph. Stop,” he commands as gently as he can.

The bounty hunter finally looks him in the eyes, his dark green eyes swimming in a sea of unshed tears. “I-Ii’m sorry,” Raph says in a cracking voice, “I-I didn’t’-I saw you with money and I just-I didn’t even see the woman, I-,“ Raph’s voice cracks with a sob, “I-I just saw you with the money and cause you-you’re a thief I jus-“ Raph presses both hands over his mouth as he dips his head down. Struggling to keep himself quiet. Donnie glances into the cave they’ve been sleeping in to make sure Raph’s surging emotions haven’t woken Mikey up. But the messenger just yawns and latches onto Leo in his sleep.

Donnie takes Raph by the shoulders, and tips his forehead down to touch Raph’s, guiding him up to force eye contact. “Did you bruise me on purpose?”

“N-No-“

“Did you act because you were scared I was doing something to endanger the safety of our brothers?”

Raph opens his mouth again but is unable to get the words to come out and can only setting for a nod. Donnie reaches his hands up to gently hold the back of Raph’s head, keeping it in place. “No more apologizing. No more guilt. It happened; people make mistakes. And if I forgive you then there’s nothing more you can do than forgive yourself right.” He wraps his arm around Raph’s shoulders and guides him into a hug.

Raph’s larger than life arms immediately wrap around him tightly, like a child clinging to a lost stuffed animal in a nightmare. “I-I’m not a monster?” he whispers, as though he was too afraid of the answer to ask any louder, Donnie shakes his head “Of course not big guy.” Raph gives a shudder of relief before he starts weeping into Donnie's shoulder as Donnie strokes the back of his head, resting his cheek against Raph’s head.

After a few minutes the weeping finally stops, but Donnie doesn’t release his hug on Raph until he feels the giant start to pull away, wiping his eyes on his sleeves as though trying to hide all traces of his momentary weakness. Donnie tilts his head to get a better look at Raph’s face. “Can you forgive yourself now?”

“I-I’ll try,” Raph asks in a trembling voice, pausing for a moment, “If-if you’ll let me take over lookout for the rest of the night.”

Normally Donnie would have argued that Raph had done look out the night before. But there’s only a few more hours in the night, and he knows this is the only thing that will help absolve Raph of his remaining guilt. “Alright big guy,” he says standing up, patting the snapping turtle on his shoulder and moving back into the cave. He picks a spot on the floor on Leo’s other side. The moment he lays down, Leo sleepily rolls over, (despite his cuddle hostage situation with Mikey) and rests his cheek on Don’s shoulder. Don can’t help but chuckle to himself, taking a moment to make sure both Leo and Mikey are still covered by blankets before wrapping himself up in his cloak and closing his eyes.

[demigoddessnation]

Can we stay like this a little longer?

Thomas x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1,228

A/N: any feedback is highly appreciated and valued! also, enjoy!

"Thomas?"

The woods whispered their usual afternoon nothings, the last beams of daylight sprinkled across the ground in gilt droplets. Your voice was hoarse and his name ached to shout, but some unnatural strength held you on your shivering legs and carried you into the vacant denseness of the Deadheads.

Perhaps Jeff had been right to joke about this cold giving you superpowers, or you were so out of your damn mind that you were resolute to leave the cot and wander off in the rain, all to find the boy who'd gone missing since returning to the Glade mere few hours ago.

Thomas could've been freezing out there. As far as you knew, Minho said he'd wounded himself while in the Maze. Of course it could be nothing but a scratch. But hell, were the odds taking their awful toll on you. Thomas wouldn't let a scratch get the best of him and you knew that.

Eyes watery and skull pounding with harrowing headache, you pushed through the low-hanging, gnarled branches and over the mossy logs with nothing but him in your disordered thoughts. It wasn't like him to disappear, much less to miss checking up on you in the Medjack hut after coming back. For the last three days Thomas had stopped by at least once every afternoon, oftentimes bringing food with him and insisting that you eat together in the hut, away from the others. You weren't quite keen on the idea of them seeing you sick.

Pity was just too much to deal with.

"Thomas? Please, I'm starting to worry."

But the forest spared no reply, not even a bird's song to acknowledge the heart-rending concern that held you from falling in pain amid the verdure.

For a few moments the need to lie down poked on your common sense, pressing and unyieldingly strong, yet you suppressed it. The scary anxiety did, actually.

Please, let him be okay. Please.

The rain began to lessen, the puffy clouds shutting the downpour away as if they'd cried it all out and their cold sorrow was now finally over. The sun was still dying out somewhere beyond the tremendous walls and night was slowly settling in, inconsiderate of how cold and sad you had grown. You'd been searching for at least half an hour now.

It took so much not to give up that when some twig crunched in your silent vicinity, though dully, you nearly snapped your neck in the whiplash of hope. Weak feet dug into the wet soil. Some slouchy, hunched figure was seated few strides away, both its hands clasped behind the neck as if poisoned by regret or thoughts unnaturally dark.

"Thomas," you called out, but the dryness of your voice gave you away before your reddened face ever could. You barely managed to sigh in relief.

"Y/N. What--Why are you--You should've rested, like Jeff said."

He had been crying.

"And let you disappear? No."

"Okay but you sound even worse. Being here won't do you good. Just--Just go and rest, okay? Please."

"Thomas."

You had approached him at last, facing him as he sat on some thick, but drenched and darkened with rainwater log. You couldn't muster the vigour to sit by his side. He couldn't gather the will to look you in the eye either.

You coughed. "What was that about?"

"I needed time to myself. I've had too much to think about. But I was just coming back, I swear."

In one way or another, Thomas' personality ran rather close to yours. The god-damned reluctance to have anyone see you fragile - or broken - kept you uptight and somewhat together for the most part because avoidance felt less difficult, explaining - too risky. No one could stitch you up if you were tearing at the seams. No one had the steady hands to do so.

Thomas' face was flushed with the strange afterglow of letting go - finally embracing one's vulnerability instead of keeping it at bay, but he still wouldn't look at you.

At that moment you would've expected yourself to stray from the seriousness of it all, crack a joke maybe or blabber your way out awkwardly enough because that's what usually felt right. Right now, however, you couldn't help but look at Thomas and see through him like you never had before. As I didn't fail to remind you, you two were more alike than either knew.

Instead of struggling to find the right words to comfort him or the most mature way to talk whatever was bothering him out, you tried to let go of the fear of breaking down at least this once. At the end of the day, sometimes the best solace came from letting others know they have you, rather than forcing them out of their lows.

Hand slightly trembling, you lifted Thomas' chin so his dreamy, bloodshot eyes locked with yours.

"It's okay," you said. "I understand."

He didn't utter a word. His shoulders suddenly relaxed, chest started rising and falling more steadily as opposed to the frantic panic of seconds ago. You moved closer to him and his head aligned with your waist, eyes gazing at yours beyond the expanse of time and emotion.

Something within you dictated your every motion, something that felt like utter peace amid the turmoil that was this whole uneasy day. Maybe you did know what to do after all. But the knowledge lay so deep inside you that you'd never dared to rely on it. Maybe not when you yourself had needed it, that is.

But when Thomas did, it didn't feel half as forced or embarrassing as you'd believed.

With one hand you cupped the side of his face, and with the other you gently wiped away the remainder of his tears, as softly as one would caress the tender petals of a flower in the snow. You could feel him press his cheek deep against your touch, his eyes resting closed as he shyly demanded some more of it.

You both stayed like this just a bit longer, before he pulled you in his trembling embrace - his arms around your waist and your hands in his brown locks. He was damp with rain still, and so were you but neither had felt warmer today. Neither had taken this much comfort in being completely and utterly vulnerable.

Somewhere between Thomas' softened sobs and the vocal frenzy of the rest of the Glade, you must've teared up yourself. This time it wasn't the cold, but the warmth.

"It's okay," you let out huskily. "It's okay."

"It's okay," Thomas repeated. His voice resonated in your skin. He was still snuggled up and slightly shaking, but you were too deep in the moment to ever mind.

There it was. The innermost peace.

It lay in Thomas' brown eyes, in his hands on your lower back and the sound of his every inbreath too.

"Can you--can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked.

"Mhm," but sudden worry washed over you again and you husked. "What about the wound?"

"It's nothing."

"You'll go get fixed up though."

"Yeah. Later."

Your hands roamed his hair still. "Later."

For once bringing solace upon somebody else felt simple, natural. You could stay like this forever, until you made sure that every single one of his tears was long gone and forgotten.

[rueren]

3 𝓪𝓶 ~ 𝓡.𝓣𝓪𝓷𝓪𝓴𝓪

warnings : #none #this shits cute  #swearing #sneaking out(?)

content: prev. established relationship. basically he misses you and you guys go out at 3 am.

word count : 2513

pairings : Tanaka Ryūnosuke x reader

Finally.  Sleep at last.  It took so long to go to bed; the anime you had been waiting for for so long had finally dropped its first season at 6 pm, and you binged your way through the whole thing.  So by the time your head hit the pillow it was …. 1 am?  Not too bad, you thought to yourself as your head finally hit the pillow. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Your brows furrowed, still groggy from sleep.  That stupid tree branch.  You knew you should've told someone that it's gotten dangerously close to your window.  First thing in the morning, then. 

Tap.  Tap.  Tap tap tap.  It became more insistent.  Your blood rushed to your ears.  It's just the tree branch... Right?  Remnants of sleep leaving your system, your nerves were on end.  Slowly, your head peeked out from under your covers, twisting towards your window, without your body moving an inch.  There seemed to be no shadow of anything, so you stood up slowly, and grabbed the bat you left under your bed.  

You slid across the wall and made your way over to the window.  Still, nothing could be seen from outside.  Your ears filled with the sound of your pulse, you forced your hand to the latch that unlocks the window, and threw it open, and at the same time swung the bat out the opening.  

“What the fuck, babe” a voice cried from the other side of the window followed by scuffling.  Your ears picked up at the sound, and you threw your curtains to the side. 

“Ryu?” You said exasperated, breathing heavy from the adrenaline.  “What the hell are you doing here, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Answer your phone once in your life, and you won't get scared,” He heaved, hand over his chest, “I almost died, you know.  Your damn bat literally grazed my lashes.” 

“My phone…what are you talking about?”, you stomped your way over to your phone, “You never called me, what are you talking about…” 4 missed calls and 12 messages.  

You turned around, sporting a guilty smile, to see your boyfriend staring at you, eyes sharp, and lips curled in a sly smirk.  “Gonna say something?” 

“You gonna come in or you want me to come out?” You avoided the question, rubbing your eye and pulling down your shirt over your pajama pants.  

“Come sit out here with me, it's pretty,” he smiled, pulling his hood off.  You crawled out your window onto the  small sliver of roof, ducking under the branch that pressed up against your window.  He held out his hand for you to stabilize yourself as you sat down beside him, tucked into his side.  

You tilted your head back to look up at his face.  It’s amazing how often it would slip your mind how good looking he actually was. His face had a tinge of pink to it from the crisp fall night air, his nose red from being nipped by the cold.  Sharp eyes with stars dancing in them as he watched the night sky, his jaw just as sharp.  With his chaotic personality, it was almost impossible  to forget just how serene moments like this with him are.  

He noticed you looking up at him, and hummed in response, squeezing his arm around you before running his knuckles along the bare skin of your arm. “Whatchu lookin at, huh,”  his smirk replaced the calmer expression he previously had on, and you rolled your eyes and poked his ribs.

“So why are you here?”  You quirked up a brow, “It’s the middle of the night, shouldn't you be home?”

“Yeah, but Saeko’s got friends over and they're so freakin’ loud I can’t even hear my own thoughts” He grumbled, his head gets thrown back and it thunps against the bricks of your house. 

“Don’t act like you were even sleeping, you liar,” You laughed.  “And aren’t you used to this by now?  She's always got people over.  You sleep like a log, anyway.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Okay fine.  But do I really need a reason to wanna come over?” 

“At 2 am, yeah.” Your hand cupped his face and his cheeks squished together.  Even under the darkness, you could see his face go red, and not just from the cold.  His eyes wandered everywhere but to yours.  

It was cute, you always thought. How even after dating for so long, he’d still get bashful and turn into a blushing mess over the smallest things.  Things you’ve done multiple times, he would randomly get flustered over.  Hugs, kisses, small intimate moments.  You fell for him more each passing day, if it was even possible to fall for someone that hard.

“Well, too bad.  I don’t have a reason.  I came to see you just because I can,” He puffed out his chest, and your hand slipped.  He smiled,  “I’m just that nice of a boyfriend.”

“You came here with no reason?  Then what are we gonna do, stare at each other?”

“If you let me, yeah.” He said.  Now your own face flushed. It didn’t even make sense how the same boy who would randomly get flustered over a hug coils say things like that with such ease.  He didn’t even realize what they did to you, which made them affect you that much more.

“Oh my god, shut up,” You mumbled, shoving your face into your hands and falling into his chest. His laugh rang through you, shaking in chest, and his arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close out of the cold.  

“You’re freezing, oh my god I’m so stupid,” He panics, and nudges you to move for a minute. “Here, take this.” He pulls off the puffer jacket he’s got on and draped it over you, leaving him in his olive green hoodie.

“You’re not cold?” You ask, pulling the collar closer to your chin.  He shook his head, “I’m good. Got a shirt under this,” he motioned to the hoodie.

“Weirdo, who wears shirts under their sweaters,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and he flicks your forehead. He pulled your legs over his own, and tucked you back into his side.

A stray cat wandered underneath the lamp post across the street, no cars in sight.  The silence was welcomed, both just enjoying each other's presence for a while.  Your schedules had gotten really hectic, with his team going to nationals in a few weeks.  You honestly couldn't have been any more proud of him. 

“Just missed you, you know” He muttered.  His temple rested against the crown of your head, tugging your legs even further across his own, hand on your thigh.  “Missed you so much. Practice is a lot.  I love it, you know that.  The guys are all great, amazing.  They all work so hard, so I can't just .. not work as hard as them, you know.” He kissed your head, and you look back up at him, your hand going to hold his.

“You’re doing so great,” a chaste kiss is pressed to the back of his hand. “You work so hard,” another kiss to his other.  “I know everyone's so proud of you,” a kiss to his forehead. “And you have no idea,” to his cheek, “How proud you make me,” his other cheek.  “Never wanna imagine my life without you,” and finally to his lips. 

His hands seemed frozen in place for a minute, before going to the small of your back, pulling you in further.  Your hands find purchase on the sides of his face, thumbs caressing his cheek bones.

You missed him. It's been over a week since you guys hung out outside of school, and even then it was cut short sometimes by practice.  Not that you would ever hold it against him.  He tries his best, he really does.  His team relies on him. He relies on them.  The way he is on the court - it's like he’s a different person.  It’s all the best qualities of him brought to the surface.  Determined, stubborn, loyal, reliable, uplifting.  Everything you loved about him.  

What felt like hours later you pulled apart, and rested your foreheads against one another.  He smiled before pecking your lips one last time.  

“Okay, I know what we're doing.” He smiled proudly.  Your eyes followed him as he made his way to stand up on the small sliver of your roof on your side of the house.  

“Going to sleep?” you said, as he held out a hand to get you up. 

His head shook, “Nope, corner store.”

“What?” 

“Corner store.  You know, that place that sells buns and drinks and snacks and shit,” once you're on your feet, he hops over onto the tree by your room.  You watch him, mouth still open in confusion as you watch him climb down.  When he’s down on the ground, he looks back up at you, and beckons you down to him.  “C'mon babe, come down.”

“Are you crazy, I can't climb down that thing.”

“Sure you can,”  he says, grinning.  “You do it all the time.”

“Not in this dark!”

“I’ll catch you, don't worry.” 

Mulling it over in your head, you eventually rolled your eyes and gave in.  “Gimme a sec.”

“Hurry up, baby.”

“Shh, not so loud!”

“Woops, sorry.” He smiled, a toothy grin flashing up at you, swinging back and forth on his heels.  He whisper-yelled, “Hurry up!”

You ducked back into your house to check if your parents were still asleep.  When you saw them snoring away in their rooms, you crept back downstairs to grab a random pair of shoes. Back in your room, you picked up the first hoodie you could find - Tanaka’s old one, all black with a red pocket on the front  - and your phone and wallet.  You scoot your way out the window, pulling it down without locking it.

Climbing down the tree was so much harder than he made it look.  He stuck his arms out to you on the last branch, and you half jumped half kicked off the tree trunk.  He caught you with little problem, and the two of you ran down the street light lit road, stumbling over your own two feet.  

***

The fluorescent lights flickered.  You grabbed the bag of chips from the corner and tossed it into the corner of the cart by your foot.  Tanaka grabed another bag you pointed to that was out of your reach and dropped it on your head.  You cover your head too late, and tilt your head all the way back to glare at him.  In one swift motion he's grabbing your chin and leaning down to kiss you, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip once before pulling away. 

Your eyes stay closed for a second longer than his ego should witness.  Once they open, you can literally see his eyes shining and that stupid grin plastered right across his face.  

“Push this damn cart, Ryu.” you laugh and turn around in the cart, so that you're facing him with your back at the opposite end of it.  “I want candy.”

“Of course, what am I a heathen?” He shoves the cart and lets you glide for a while, your eyes widening in a plea for him to not let you knock into anything.  “It’s not a 3 am snack run without candy, duh.”  He catches up to the cart and stopped it before you rolled into a stack of toilet paper.  He avoided the glare you sent him, and turned you guys into the next aisle.  

You pulled out your phone to take a video of him studying the candy aisle, talking to himself.  The second the video starts, you’re instantly reminded of the fact that you had to put your flash on earlier, and bright light shines into his face abruptly, ruining your plan.  He covers his eyes before grabbing the camera and turning it to the two of you and a squeal leaves your lips.  Cupping your chin again, he’s tilting your lips up towards him and right before smashing them to yours, the question leaves his mouth. 

“This okay?” You nod, your stomach doing flips. He stays there smiling down at you, too long for your liking, and you take the initiative, grabbing the drawstrings of his hoodie in your hands and using it to tug him down to meet you.

You don’t see it but his eyes widen from the abruptness of it all.  He may seem smooth, but whenever you one up him he’s flustered all over again. He recovered though, tongue sweeping over your lips, gaining access and then sweeping over your own tongue.  He’s hovering over you, bent so far over due to his height. He’s got a hand holding the railing of the cart, so he doesn't fall over, the other’s got the phone still pointed towards you, and you can feel the light of the flash on the back of your eyelids.  

You don’t pull apart until you hear shuffling from behind you, and you pull back long enough to see some dude trying to get by.  You immediately push Tanaka back, who’s eyes flutter open, and see the dude glaring at you both.  A meek “sorry man” slips his mouth and he turns to grab the cart and move you both out of the aisle.  

Once you've both left the aisle you look at each other and muffle your laughs into your hands.  Tanaka’s got the camera pointed at you, as you laugh in that sleepy state you're both in.  He smiles as you cover your face with your hand stretched outwards to block it from the camera.  He motions for you to come closer, and the metal bars of the cart digging into your knees as you lean over closer to him.  Another kiss presses to your lips, this time less intense.  Softer, loving, more meaning.  He pulls away and looks at your eyes, your own mind still reeling from all of his straight forwardness today.

He pushed you both to the front to pay for your items, the cashier half asleep himself when he’s scanning your items.  The walk back, he’s got his arm around your shoulder and holding your plastic bag with the chips and candy in it.   You’ve got your own arm slung around his waist and you walk together, passing one of the drinks you bought between you two, laughing and talking about anything and nothing.  

You’re talking about something that happened in your class yesterday, and he’s watching you, listening to you.  But somewhere in your story, he doesn't hear you anymore.  All he hears is his heartbeat in his ears.  All he sees is the stars in your eyes, the way the light dances across your skin, the way your head tilts back as you laugh at whatever you were remembering.  

You look up at him and your lips tilt up to the side, “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, of course.  That dude said something to Noya and he said something back and ... yeah,” He grabbed you down in a headlock, laughing.  When you came back up you rip his beanie off his head and place it on your own.  You stick your tongue out at him, before saying “Ugh now I gotta start over.”

“If it means I get to listen to your voice some more, I should just pretend I don’t hear you every time.” 

“Lover boy,” You scrunch up your face and kiss his cheek, and he makes a mental note to not take back the beanie when he drops you off at home “Anyways, basically what happened was...” 

And its this moment, at 3 am, on a deserted street, with you in his old hoodie and his hat, when he realizes that the only thing that matters any more is you.  That he doesn’t do anything to fuck up what you two have.  He can’t afford to do anything to fuck it up, because he knows this is it for him.  You’re it for him.  Always will be.  

[snidgetwidgeon]

Thank you for 100 followers! :D

To celebrate this happy little milestone, I felt inspired to create a BotW ficlet about 100 of something. Please enjoy:

The 100th Korok

Link thought he saw it again. A shifting in the grasses, always in his periphery, and whenever he turned to look, nothing. This, along with strange, intermittent poofs of air, led him to believe he was being followed. At first he was on edge, thinking the Yiga were getting the drop on him; but since nothing ever came of it, he settled with the odd occurrence, but remained vigilant just the same.

As he passed a fallen log, he was struck with the inclination to check the hollows. Sure enough, on the opposite end was a little jar. A Korok puzzle. One of the easier ones. The little forest spirits could be quite crafty sometimes but he enjoyed their games.

“Ya ha ha! You found me!” The korok wiggled excitedly and placed a small golden seed in Link’s outstretched hand.

“Many thanks, little one,” He smiled.

At some distance away, a soft voice counted to itself, “Ninety six! Oooo, Mr. Hero is getting so close!” The little korok rose to the sky hanging on its propeller leaf and continued to follow. It wouldn’t be visible out in the wild until setting a puzzle for Mr. Hero to solve. The korok stayed hot on Link’s heels as he moved through the countryside.

“Ninety seven.

Ninety eight.”

The little korok hovered, poofed, and slid through the grass over the next two days, keeping a hawk like vigil on the Hero. So intent was it to not miss its moment, that it was distracted to the point of not noticing the actual hawk, diving straight for it. Koroks were friends to all living creatures, but not all creatures returned the sentiment. The hawk thought this little korok could be lunch!

“Eee!” The little korok dove just in time to escape the grip of the hawk’s talons. But it circled back and the korok had to employ its other tricks to give it the slip. It poofed and dropped into the grass, camouflaging spectacularly. The hawk did a few more passes of the area before giving up to find an easier meal.

The korok popped its head out and gasped. Where was Mr. Hero!? It almost rose into the sky to search but was afraid the hawk might still be nearby, so it skated through the grasses as quick as it could. By the time it caught up and saw Mr. Hero about to cross a bridge, it was too late. It’s leaf face drooped in sadness as Link tossed a rock over the side of the bridge into a ring of stones in the river.

“Ya ha ha,” the little korok sadly echoed its sibling. “You didn’t find me.” A tear fell and with its hopes of being Mr. Hero’s hundredth korok dashed, it decided to fade back into the forest. "I don’t want to play this game anymore..."

~~~

Sometime later, Link made a visit to the Korok Forest. There were some shrines in the area he thought he’d have a go at cracking. As he passed through the main thoroughfare, he booped the pod lanterns and made some of the koroks laugh before they hid when he got too close. Just before he reached the shrine, he spotted one all on its own, behind a large root spreading out from its father, the Deku Tree. Its leaf was drooping and he thought he heard a sniffle. He crouched down slowly, “Hey there, little one. Are you unwell?”

The korok swayed in a bit of a daze before managing to speak. “M-Mr. Hero!” The dark, mismatched pupils dilated before it burst into tears and collapsed into Link’s lap.

Link flinched in surprise but cradled the wailing forest spirit, hoping that he would be able to offer sufficient comfort.

“I-I-I... f-failed you Mr. Herooooo!”

Link's brows knit together, “What? How? That’s nonsense. The koroks have always been helpful to me.”

His heart clenched when the little korok looked up at him so forlornly. It was welling up again, and the dam was all but fit to burst.

“We are supposed to bless the Hero with our seeds so that he may grow stronger to defeat the Calamity. B-but... I wanted to be your hundredth seed. Because it seemed special. And then you were almost there, and I tried so hard- but then, there was a meany hawk, and it tried to eat me!”

Link’s eyes widened in concern and was about to speak but the korok sniffled loudly and continued. “And then I lost you, and when I found you- you- you had already found another! And I’m a bad korok, for shame!”

“No, no,” Link entreated gently, “Just because you couldn’t be one hundredth doesn’t make you bad at all. Why would you think that?” He sat to get a bit more comfortable and pulled the korok into his lap to face him, the little body resting against his palms.

The koroks arms flailed as it became animated in its self judgment. “I’m bad because I gave up. I should be out there making a puzzle so you can have my seed but I just couldn’t. But without my seed, what if you can’t defeat the Calamity!?”

Link suppressed a chuckle the way one does with children when they are being so serious. “How about you give me my last seed? That way, I can save the best for last.”

The little korok nearly jumped out of his arms, “Really!? What an honor Mr. Hero, nine hundred is so much better than one hundred; you’re right!”

Link’s encouraging smile was wiped from his face, “I beg your pardon? Did you say... nine? Hundred?”

“Yes! That’s how many were in big brother Hestu’s maracas.”

Link fell back into the grass dramatically, looking dazed. It alarmed the little korok and he could feel its stubby legs poking into his stomach and ribs as it made its way up his abdomen to be the one bent over his face in concern.

“Mr. Hero? Are you unwell?” it parroted Link’s question from earlier.

“No, I just... nine hundred is so many. How could I possibly find them all?”

The little korok put on a thinking face and walked in circles around Link’s chest. The moment a solution came, it jumped excitedly causing Link to grunt. “I know how to help, Mr. Hero!”

Link sat up and held the korok so it wouldn’t tumble. “How’s that?”

With a beaming face and arms outstretched wriggling with excitement, the korok laughed, “Ya ha ha!” and poofed into a new shape. A mask.

Link held it up in awe, turning it back and forth in surprise. “Are you still there, little one?”

He heard a soft coo in response and after another curious pause, decided to give it a try.

The magic of the korok went into effect immediately. As Link walked through the forest, his mask sighed with delight, the little pinwheel spinning joyously every time he neared another forest spirit.

“Thank you, friend.”

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 5)

Summary: Roman confronts the other Sides.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: Violence and threats of violence, nightmare imagery

Word Count: 3,194

Read on AO3: here

“Won't be long now,” said Mr. Beaver as the group rounded a low hill. The sun was just starting to sink, and the resulting shadow made them all the colder. They had been on the move for nearly twenty hours, with only brief and infrequent rest stops, and had long since begun dragging their feet. Their trail made a continuous ragged line through the snow.

“I can't feel my anything,” Patton moaned.

“Well if nothing else,” said Mrs. Beaver, trudging alongside him and patting his hand, “they'll at least have decent campfires where we're going.”

Another twenty-five or so minutes brought them around the base of that hill and the next one, and then the Beavers led the group up the slope of a third and tallest hill. “And here we are,” said Mr. Beaver once they reached the summit. “The hill of the Stone Table.”

The hilltop was a broad space, clear of trees, with a grim gray construction in the very center: the Stone Table itself. It seemed like the whole snowscape of Narnia spread out before them, all the way to the twinkling ocean. It would have been a lovely view if not for the circumstances that had brought them there.

No one greeted them. They thought at first that no one was even there, but Virgil pointed to a hunched figure crouched on the ground some distance away from the table, tending the embers of a small fire by means of an awkwardly long poker held at full arm's length, as if she were afraid to go too near it. She was very slender, with lightly tanned skin and misty pale green hair that stuck out from her head in bristly locks, falling down to merge with her dress, which was the same color and texture.

“Ailim, is that you?” said Mr. Beaver.

“Oh!” said the woman, rising to her feet in one motion, more gracefully than any human could manage. “Beaver...I wasn't expecting you.”

“Ailim...where is everyone?”

She shook her head with a sound like leaves rustling in a breeze. “A few are nearby, keeping to cover. As for the rest...they are safe in their homes. Where else would they be? Aslan has not come after all. Of my people, only my conifer siblings and myself are even awake. The rest of our cousins still sleep.”

“Ailim is a dryad,” Mrs. Beaver explained. “That's the spirit of a tree. In her case, a fir tree.”

“And you must be the humans of the prophecy,” said Ailim. “Do you know why Aslan has not returned?”

“B-beats me, Miss,” Patton said, teeth chattering. “The story seems to have hopped off the rails at some point.”

“Oh, how rude of me not to notice how cold you are. Do come sit by the fire. She crouched to poke up the flames, and used an equally long-handled set of tongs to add another log. Soon it was crackling nicely, and the Sides were clustered around it, sitting on small boulders that had been cleared of snow and soaking up the warmth.

“It doesn't bother you?” Virgil said as Ailim fed the fire again. “Burning wood? I mean, if you're a tree too...”

“This was all fallen and dead already when it was gathered,” she explained. “No Narnian of good heart would ever cut down a living tree, or even take so much as a single branch. Sometimes an aged dryad who knows she will die soon will bequeath her wood to those who need it, but living trees are sacrosanct. Or,” she added sadly, “so it was before the White Witch came.”

“We'll figure something out,” Patton said. “I think…I think the Witch is hurting someone we care about too.”

“In the meantime,” Mr. Beaver cut in, “this lot needs food and rest.”

“Of course,” said the dryad. “There are shelters in the thickets on the southeastern slope, and provisions. Tap three times quickly and twice slowly on the large boulder and the fauns will let you inside.” She met each of their gazes in turn. “In the morning we must hold a council of war.”

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

At least Jadis's bed was comfortable enough.

Roman had found it eventually, after wandering the frozen castle for what felt like hours. It was only a broad, thick slab of ice on the floor, but it was heaped with enough blankets and furs that he was adequately shielded from the worst of the cold, both from the frigid air of the castle and the bed itself. He crawled in, his head still spinning, and wrapped himself in layers of bedding like a caterpillar forming its cocoon.

Sleep came quickly, but proper rest did not; Roman's dreams were full of ice and crystal and stone and snowflakes that came spinning down out of a black sky like tiny sawmill blades. Where they touched him he flinched and bled, and his blood was the pale turquoise of a glacial core. It whispered to him in sounds that were almost words and phrases in a language he only partially understood.

Perhaps he thrashed or cried out in his sleep, but if so, no one noticed or responded.

And with the coming of the dawn, Roman opened his eyes...and knew who he was. And what he was.

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

The war council never happened.

After their long trek, the Sides had just enough energy left to swallow a few mouthfuls of the stew  the fauns had prepared and fall asleep on rough cots in a den of sorts excavated from the hillside. The Narnians hadn't the heart to disturb them, and they didn't wake until the sun was well over the horizon, and then only because a strange, piercing sound was blaring from outside the shelter, coming from some distance away. It was like a horn, but shriller, and it set their teeth on edge.

Bleary-eyed from stolen sleep, they bustled out to find their hosts interrupted in the act of preparing breakfast. “What's going on?” Patton yawned. “Is it time for the council meeting thingie?”

“We're not sure,” said one of the fauns, whose name escaped him. The peculiar sound continued at intervals of a few seconds, and seemed intended as a signal of some kind.

“Something is approaching!” came Ailim’s voice from the hilltop. “Let us all gather as a show of our numbers!”

“What numbers,” Virgil muttered, but he joined the other two, and the Beavers and fauns and other handful of Narnian citizens now emerging from their respective shelters, in hiking back up to the summit, where Ailim was waiting with another dryad, taller and wirier than herself. They got there just in time to see, bursting through the trees on the northern slope, a Dwarf they barely recognized as the White Witch’s driver. He was blowing on some kind of wind instrument that appeared to be made from silvery crystal—or perhaps ice—which was of course the sound they had all been hearing. Behind him, further downslope, there was some kind of commotion that wasn’t yet visible through the brush and piled snow.

“Narnians!” bellowed the Dwarf. “Make ready to receive your most exalted ruler, the White Warlock!”

“What?” Virgil growled.

“White Warlock?” said Patton. “No, it’s supposed to be the White Witch. A scary lady! I remember that part!”

“'Warlock' is a semi-archaic term for a male witch,” Logan observed.

“Guys, I have the worst feeling about this…” said Virgil.

More creatures were emerging from the trees on the hill slope, and it took the Sides a moment to realize that they were looking at a procession of monsters. First was a group of Goblin heralds carrying gonfalons that seemed to consist only of crosspieces crusted with masses of icicles. Then came a formation of Dwarf archers, and then several Ogres bearing clubs. Following this were a few Hags, hissing and pointing threateningly into the gathering.

(“What is this, the whole bloody entourage?” whispered Mr. Beaver. “Dear! Mind your language!” Mrs. Beaver retorted.)

As the procession reached the hilltop, it broke to its right, circling the space counterclockwise and fanning out along the other side of the Stone Table from the Sides and their allies, effectively corralling them—they could retreat, technically, but there was only one direction available; they would be easy pickings if they tried.

Finally, the White Warlock himself appeared, lounging in a fur-lined sedan chair on the shoulders of four massive Minotaurs. His crown glittered as he moved in and out of patches of shade and his robe was made entirely of ermine, with a train that trailed behind the chair for ten yards, held off the ground by a team of Yew-dryads, their short shaggy hair speckled with scarlet berries. The Minotaurs crested the hill, and one of them kicked snow over the smoldering campfire, extinguishing it. They eased the chair down, and the Warlock rose from his seat, stepped lightly to the ground, and turned to face them.

It was Roman...and he was wrong.

They knew what “evil Roman” was supposed to look like. The fans loved to imagine him, for some reason, and they tagged Thomas in their fanart of the concept often enough that the Sides were familiar with the consensus image: the haughty expression, the gaudy gold crown studded with rubies, and especially the transformation of his suit from pristine, heroic white to Disney Villain black.

It wasn't...it wasn't supposed to become even whiter. It wasn't supposed to gleam almost too bright to look at in the sunlight, so that even the ermine barely looked white by comparison. The gold braid wasn't supposed to be replaced with silver, nor the noble red of his sash with a dusky grayish mauve like dried rose petals under a veneer of frost. The crown was not supposed to be made of silvery ice, with only a single huge diamond set under the central point.

His hair was not supposed to be shot through with white strands that turned out, upon closer inspection, to be ornamentation of impossibly delicate ice filigree. His eyes were definitely not supposed to be gray, flecked with blue-green. And he was not supposed to be pale, but he was—paler than Virgil, if such a thing were possible, lacking even a cold-induced blush to his cheeks, yet without looking the least bit unhealthy. It was as if he had been molded out of ivory.

The only hint of warmth in his appearance was that diamond, which flashed all the colors of fire.

He was wrong.

“Hark! You are all guilty of high treason against the Crown!” he said without preamble, and his voice at least, if not the disdainful tone, was familiar. “Except you three,” he added with a curt nod at his fellow Sides. “However! We are in a lenient mood! Abandon your rebellion at once, and swear fealty to us, and you will not be punished...this time. As for you...” He addressed the Sides again, and for just a moment, his cold arrogance retreated, “...in exchange for your fealty, I will make you all lesser Kings in my court. Think of it! This glorious winter kingdom could belong to all of us!”

The Narnians shuffled on their feet, making no reply. The Sides traded glances, Logan frowning uncertainly and Virgil shaking his head with a haunted expression. Finally, Patton spoke.

“Roman...this isn't fun anymore, with you acting like this. This isn't how you said the story was going to go. Can we just...go home? We can talk out whatever's bothering you.”

It was shocking how quickly Roman's eyes hardened. “I will not be mocked,” he said, low and dangerous. “You have one day and night to change your minds...or else prepare for war. And these—” he made an expansive gesture at the creatures he had brought with him, “—are merely the outermost tip of my armies.” He returned to his sedan chair and the Minotaurs hoisted it up. The procession began to descend the hill.

“Down with the White Warlock!” blurted the taller Dryad, Ailim's companion. “Aslan is King!”

Roman's head whipped around to glare at her. Without a single word, he nodded to the nearest of the Hags, and she lunged at the Dryad, shrieking and making a throwing gesture. There was something like a flash of light in reverse—a flash of darkness—and the tall tree-spirit sank to the ground with a sigh.

“Muricata!” Ailim cried as one of the Ogres stepped forward and lifted the fallen nymph in one massive hand.

“Find her tree,” growled the White Warlock. “Cut it down while she watches.”

“No! Please!” Ailim begged. “She is my sister!”

“Take the other one as well. Let them both watch.” A second Ogre seized Ailim and began dragging her along while she screamed in terror and grief.

“Roman!” Patton gasped. “H-how could you?”

“Don't make me punish you as well!” Roman snarled. “Move out!”

The procession withdrew back down the hill, leaving the Narnians devastated and the Sides both bewildered and appalled. “So now what?” Virgil said, pacing erratically and pulling at his hair. “This is really bad, you guys. Super bad. We're not just talking rail-jumping here. Roman's taken a flying leap off...off something, I don't know, but there is something wrong with him. I thought maybe he was just throwing a surprise twist at us, but did you see him? That look in his eyes? This is so bad—”

“Virgil, you are spiraling,” said Logan. “Try one of your breathing exercises.”

“I don't understand,” said Patton. “Why would Roman go this far? Do you think he's mad at us for something?”

“It is possible,” said Logan. “He has undergone a number of upsetting occurrences recently, and his mood has not been the most stable. Then again, with his talk of 'swearing fealty'...perhaps he is simply craving validation.”

“Should we just give it to him then?” said Virgil. I mean if it's the fastest way to get him off the crazy train...”

“Unfortunately, I have to advise against indulging him in this,” said Logan. “While it may work in the short term to, as you say, 'get him off the crazy train'—which does not sound like a practical or enjoyable means of transportation, by the way—the likely long-term effect would be to encourage him to continue these destructive methods of addressing his self-esteem deficits.”

“Patton, you're the 'should' guy around here...what should we do?”

“I'm honestly thinking we should just leave. The best way to send a message that the game is no good, is to quit playing. He can grapple with his feelings as long as he needs to, and we'll be there for him when he's ready to come out and talk.”

“I would tend to agree,” said Logan, “but I doubt there is any way for us to leave the Imagination without Roman noticing, and in his current state he would be certain to take steps to stop us, possibly violently.” He began to pace rapidly, wearing a tamped-down groove in the snow. “However...perhaps one of us could make it back to the door undetected, leave, and come back with...additional resources.”

“What kind of 'additional resources' did you have in mind?” said Virgil.

“It occurs to me,” Logan said, still pacing, “that Roman is rather...comfortable, with the three of us. That may cause him to take our points of view for granted, which ironically makes him less likely to listen to us than to someone with whom he might experience more interpersonal friction.”

There was a beat while Virgil and Patton took that in. “Oh, no!” Virgil said after a moment. “If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then...no. I can't agree with that.”

“Just so we're on the same page,” Patton said carefully, “you want to go get Janus? You think he could help?”

“I think his presence might shock Roman just enough to shake him out of his assumptions about how this story is meant to go,” Logan explained.

“You could be right,” said Patton. “Roman arranged all this because he hasn't felt much like a hero ever since we started including Janus in our discussions. But somehow he wound up going completely the other way, to being the villain. Maybe seeing Janus will remind him of what he's trying to avoid?”

“Okay, cool, so I'm outvoted. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. So which one of us should go?”

“I was planning on doing it myself,” said Logan. “It would not be fair to ask you to carry out a plan to which you object, and between myself and Patton, I believe I have a greater chance of making the trek without getting sidetracked or losing my nerve. No offense, Patton.”

“None taken. It's an awfully long way to go by yourself, though. Are you sure you even know the way?”

“I have an excellent head for navigation and I believe I can triangulate the location of the door based on our travels thus far. I would feel more confident if I had some form of transportation, however.”

“I can carry you, sir,” said a deep but young-sounding voice from among the Narnians. It was the largest of those gathered, a Talking Bear not quite full grown but undeniably burly and powerful. “Name of Stoutpaws, sir. I'm not as good as a Horse but I'll do my best.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Stoutpaws. My name is Logan. If we start now, I estimate you can get me to my destination before sundown.”

“You're leaving already?” Patton said, fretting.

“Roman has only given us until tomorrow, Patton. Given the round trip, I need to use every minute I can to make sure I bring Janus back here before the deadline.”

Patton strode up and pulled him into a hug. “You be careful.”

“Likewise,” said Logan.

“I'll guard him with my life, sir,” said Stoutpaws. He crouched on all fours so that Logan could climb onto his back and then loped away down the westward slope of the hill.

“Gosh, things are happening fast,” Patton said, watching them go. “It all started so simply.”

“Come on, Pat,” said Virgil with a lopsided smile that got nowhere near his eyes, “you should know by now that nothing in this mind of Thomas's is ever simple. And on that note...we should probably pull this bunch together and come up with some contingency plans, just in case Logan doesn't get back in time.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed noncommittally. “And someone oughta buck them up. They just watched two of their own get dragged away by the bad guys to be...” He trailed off.

“Don't think about it too much,” Virgil said. “Just...yeah, don't think about it.” The gathering was breaking up, the Narnians returning dejected to their hillside shelters. Patton and Virgil joined them.

Unseen in the snow-dusted brush nearby, someone was watching...

[kirk-spock-in-the-impala]

Just want to say that all your fics I've read so far are amazing. I'm still going through all the post on this site and I'm looking forward to seeing what I find. :) If you take requests for your mini fics can we get one with Jaskier challenging the witchers to were bells, after one to many jump scares.

Thank you!  I’m so glad you liked it!  Everything is also up on AO3 HERE if that’s easier for you to read (I know it is for me with my eyesight).

I like the bells idea, so here you go!  It’s tiny, but the image was way too cute to resist.  Also my first time writing from Jaskier’s POV?  It feel different, but nice?

Also, I made it a little angsty. Sorry.

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

After the fourth time Jaskier spilled ale down his doublet when Geralt appeared out of abso-fucking-lutely nowhere, he bought the witcher a bell. 

He obviously only intended it to be worn when not hunting - Jaskier certainly didn’t wish harm upon Geralt - but having a little warning about his approach might help protect his poor heart.

It was also mostly a joke.  He saw the tiny little bell on a cute, blue ribbon and bought it on impulse.  It was only a few coppers and he could spare that for the frivolity of seeing Geralt wearing something so tiny and cute.

When he next saw Geralt, this time thankfully mostly clean and unharmed, he tied the little bell onto his belt, grinning to show it was meant well.  He knew better than to try and tie it around Geralt’s medallion chain and he didn’t fancy his chances of success trying to get it around Geralt’s neck.  But, around his belt when they were sitting side-by-side on a log at the campfire watching their dinner cook?  That turned out to be possible.

Trust Geralt to take it in the worst possible way.

When he looked down to see what Jaskier had tied onto him and saw the tiny, brass bell, he’d looked up with his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline.  

Jaskier had rushed to explain, wanting to let Geralt in on the joke.  “Since you always just appear out of nowhere and scare me half to death, I got you a bell so I can hear you coming!” He said with a grin.

Geralt’s face fell, incredulous confusion morphing quickly into blanched despair and then to careful neutrality. 

“I see.”  He said, tone devoid of any inflection. He got up and went to poke at the fire that was already burning merrily under their speared rabbits, purposefully positioning himself on the opposite side of the campfire and in direct range of the smoke billowing off it.  The tiny bell let out a bright tinkle as he moved.

Jaskier knew immediately he’d made a terrible misstep.  But he didn’t know why.

“Geralt?  What’s wrong?”  

“I’ll wear the bell while you’re here.”  He said finally.  Which wasn’t an answer.

“Oh, definitely not.  I meant it as a joke since you walk so silently, but I’ve clearly hurt you.  I didn’t mean to.  Forgive me, Geralt.”  Jaskier said, standing and walking around the fire to crouch next to him.  He carefully untied the bell from Geralt’s belt and tucked it away.

“But, please, tell me, why did it upset you so much? I don’t ever want to hurt you, even by accident, but it’s easier if I know what to avoid.”  Jaskier said, keeping his voice low and calm.  

Seeing the tension in Geralt’s face ease a little, he took a chance and placed a hand on Geralt’s arm, lightly rubbing his thumb in soothing arcs.  Geralt flinched, but didn’t pull away, so Jaskier counted that as a success.

“Geralt?”  He prompted.

Geralt let out a harsh breath, looking at and then away from Jaskier.  His fists clenched and his jaw jumped with tension, but Jaskier just waited and kept making soothing little circles on his arm, waiting him out.  He knew talking about anything even remotely related to feelings or emotions was difficult for Geralt, he had neither the practice nor the vocabulary to manage it easily, and yet he tried.  For Jaskier.  The least he could do was be patient.

“You said I frightened you.” Geralt said finally, looking down at the fire.

“Oh, Geralt, I didn’t mean it like that at all.”  Jaskier said, grip tightening where he held Geralt’s arm.  “I get distracted and stop paying attention to my surroundings, and you’re so silent when you move, sometimes I just get startled when you seem to appear out of nowhere.  But I’ve never been afraid of you.”

Geralt clenched his jaw, looking away, before finally looking up and meeting Jaskier’s eyes again.

“I don’t want to frighten you.”  He said, voice small and tight as if he’d had to force that out from somewhere deep inside.

Jaskier’s heart broke, hearing everything Geralt wasn’t saying.

“I’ll never be afraid of you.”  He promised.  “I know your secret after all.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him.

“There’s a soft heart hidden under all that black leather and scowling.  You’re the kindest man I know.”

Geralt’s eyes widened, wrong-footed by the unexpected praise.  He coughed, flushing slightly, and poked at the fire again before declaring dinner was finally ready to put a stop to the conversation.

Jaskier let it go and joined him on the small log they’d been sitting on before to enjoy today’s rabbit.  But this time, he sat closer, pressing his side up against Geralt to show he wasn’t afraid.

[maple-writes]

[Image ID: Banner image reading: The City of Eventide, Chapter 34, Maple-writes. End ID]

This is it! The last chapter! It still feels so strange to think that this really is the last one.

###

Each day grew longer than the last and the sun shone a little stronger, burning off morning spring clouds. Dylan made good on his promise to visit unannounced one afternoon. He showed up with a firm knock on the door and a greeting loud enough to wake me the rest of the way up. For hours he lingered in the kitchen, half occupied with putting the finishing touches on the egg salad sandwiches Fallon sent him along with but more occupied with filling me in on everything and anything. Tea in hand I barely spoke as the sun made its way down the sky, casting long shadows across the street outside and dimming the light through the windows all while Dylan replaced the usual quiet of the day. It was nice though, hearing someone else’s voice even if I did end up forgetting details and names in his stories.

The vitamins weren’t so bad aside from remembering to take them, and once I got used to the taste neither were the other supplements the doctor suggested. Even now Ginger stopped by sometimes to check on me and deliver updates on the goings-on back at the college, letting me know I could come see her there anytime. She’d smiled, assuring me that if I ever wanted to return to work with her we’d take it as easy as I needed.

Ember’s attempts to get me out of the house came fewer and farther between, dropping down from every night to maybe once or twice a week. Every time my heart skipped but two nights ago we made it to the 24 hour gas station store. Under the too-bright lights the night vanished outside and I had to remember to take every breath deep enough to keep my head from spinning and there were too many choices and items lining every shelf and fridge and nowhere to hide but Ember kept by my side. She walked me through and let me rest my hand on her forearm, letting some of the warmth and calm seep from her skin through mine.

We bought drinks and the lights and hum of refrigerators disappeared as the door closed behind us. Stepping between shadows cast by vacant gas pumps we didn’t make it much farther than the store that night, but for the first time some of the tension melted under quiet streetlights. Chill air cooled my lungs and settled my head. The two of us talked all the way back home and together in the living room until far too late. She really shouldn’t have been staying up that late with her job interview tomorrow, though she was quick to reminded me it was only in the afternoon.

Her interview went well, and by the end of the week she’d been called back for a second and a week after that they offered her the job as a deckhand on a fishing vessel. From what she told us it sounded hard, and she’d be gone for long stretches during the season, but her excitement was contagious. Striker ordered take out to celebrate and we ended up only going to bed long after the sun had set.

Yawning, I pulled my shirt off, crawled into bed and drew the blanket snug around my shoulders. After all the excitement and celebration I sunk all the way down into the pillows and sheets.

A rattle came from my window, then another and I sat up, squinting in the dark. Grey-blue in the evening dark, a wing flashed into view then a beak tapping at the glass as a seagull fluttered by. Cirrus. It had to be. Otherwise some poor bird was very, very lost.

I hopped out of bed and opened up the window just as he glided back around. He landed on the windowsill in a blur of feathers, tucking his wings neatly to the side and shaking out his tail as he came to a stop. His head tilted left and right, pupils dilating a moment before finding the right focus.

“Hey Cirrus.” I leaned over, resting my elbows against the windowsill. “It is you, right?”

The gull ruffled his feathers, puffing up and laying them flat again in one smooth wave. He raised his beak and stuck out his chest as he watched me sideways. I smiled, warmth spreading from deep in my chest. Of course this was Cirrus. Hard to believe the last time I’d seen him was back at the cabin. How long ago was that now? I’d lost track.

Cirrus turned, webbed feet tapping against the wood of the windowsill in the quiet of the dark. He faced the street, dark and empty, glancing back at me over his grey shoulder. I frowned. Did he want…

“You want me to go with you?”

He gave a quick nod, holding his head sideways to lock me in one of his little eyes. I swallowed and wrung my hands together. How far would he want me to go? What if something happened? I hunched my shoulder, hair falling in front of my face as I stared down at my arms.

“I, I don’t know Cirrus.” How was I supposed to tell him? How was I supposed to tell him I hadn’t gone much further than a few blocks from home on my own since I got back. “I don’t know.”

A weight landed on my shoulder, webbed feet against my skin. Cirrus pushed his beak through my hair to poke at my cheek. He settled down, feathers of his belly soft against my skin. I sighed and turned my neck to see him through the corners of my eyes.

Even if we hadn’t gone far nothing horrible happened whenever I went out with Ember. I held Cirrus’ stare for a moment, watching him blink and turn his head. If something did go wrong Cirrus would have seen it before, right? He didn’t know what Ginger did but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d helped. I could handle this. If I could handle the cemetery in the middle of the day I could handle a walk in the middle of the night.

I sighed again, straightening up slowly to give Cirrus the chance to hop down. “Alright. Let me get dressed first.”

Cirrus waited outside, perched on a nearby streetlight and watching as I finally stepped out into the night. I shut and locked the door as softly as I could behind me, trying to keep the nerves already wrapping around my throat in check. A flurry of feathers made me look up a second before Cirrus landed softly on my shoulder. Webbed feet tapped quiet on my jacket and grey wing-tips tickled my ear as he turned. He stuck his head out a second, caught my eye and flew down the street.

“Hey!”

I took off running after him. My feet fell loud and echoing in the quiet side streets and alleyways, chasing flashes of white feathers under spaced-out streetlights until I staggered to a breathless stop. Hands on my knees and hunched over on the sidewalk, my heart struggled to keep up with my lungs and my legs burned. Shit. How long had it been since I moved this much? Cold air scraped at the back of my throat. I coughed and tried to catch my breath. By the time I looked up Cirrus was gone.

I grit my teeth. “Damn it.”

A seagull’s call pierced through the quiet, shrill and laugh-like. Sounded like he wasn’t too far, towards the waterfront. Of course he’d want me to meet him there. I pulled myself back upright. He’d have to wait though because I wasn’t about to run the whole way there.

I’d almost caught my breath by the time the gentle lapping of the waves caught my ear, soft and rhythmic against the deserted shore. A full moon hung bright over the ocean casting liquid silver over the dark water and the white crests of incoming waves. I slowed as I stepped out onto the beach. Full moon. Cirrus, he hadn’t waited for me here after I’d gone home, had he? Waited and hoped I’d show up for him only to leave disappointed like he had so many times hoping his mother would come around.

He’d understand why I hadn’t come, if he’d waited here for me at all. I bunched my shoulders against the wind and shook the thought from my head, picking my way across the dark beach to the usual place. Tiny creatures, insects, arthropods, they scurried away from my path with every step. Moment by moment the lights of the city faded to a faint glow at my back to give way to blue-dark night.

A figure sat on a washed-up log, turning when I rounded the bend. A woman in an ink-black evening gown that billowed around her ankles when she stood and faced me with a polite smile.

“Well, you’ve sure perked up since I last saw you.” She paused, waiting, but I only squinted in attempts to place where we might have met. “Ah, you don’t recognize me.” She gestured to herself with a black-gloved hand. “Cirrus’ sister. Call me Hadley.”

We had met, hadn’t we. I furrowed my eyebrows and tried to remember back but couldn’t see much more than a blur, a haze of feathers and loud voices that seemed to rumble through the air and into my own lungs.

Hadley though either hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind, catching me with a nod as she settled back down on the log. “Cirrus should be here soon.” She shot me a smirk, raising her head high. “I have been instructing him on how to shift his form but it can be hit or miss. He wanted to see you though, so I agreed to help him out tonight.”

She leaned back resting her hands behind her and facing the shimmering sea. Her head tilted just a moment as I sat beside her. This close she had the same barely contained power Cirrus did, cold and powerful like a harsh wind biting through my clothes. She kept quiet, watching as wave after wave lapped at the rocky shore. Slowly, I ran my hand over the worn bark of the log, tracing over ridges and bits where the wood had torn and weathered away.

“Ah,” Hadley stood, smoothing down her dress in the breeze. “Sounds like he’s done.”

The bushes growing beside the beach rustled, and a moment later Cirrus stuck his head out, one hand covering half his face and casting a sheepish look at Hadley.

She half chuckled to herself with a short glance back at me. “One moment.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, she stepped out of sight behind the foliage and the night dark. She said something, mumbling and chiding but too low for me to make out, Cirrus responding with something indignant and defensive but without any teeth behind his words. I smiled, leaning forward on the log to try and peek around the bushes and shadows. That was Cirrus alright.

The leaves rustled again, branches snapped, and Cirrus swore as he stumbled out onto the beach. He found his balance and shook himself out, looking just like I remembered. Same hair, same eyes… I jumped up from the log and throwing my arms around him. He balked a moment, surprised, before returning the embrace. His clothes were warm and smelled like storm-bearing winds, familiar and new at the same time. I leaned against him, pressing my forehead against his shoulder a moment before standing up again, throat tight.

“Miss me?” Cirrus grinned, already knowing the answer.

I nodded. “Its different, with you gone.” Maybe not quieter now that Ember was around, but different. I swallowed and turned away, a hand to the back of my neck as I glanced out to the ocean. “I don’t know if you were waiting for me here, but I’m sorry if you were.” My voice dragged along. “Things haven’t been easy.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I haven’t been around here either. It’s been a whirlwind.” Cirrus huffed and crossed his arms, shaking his head to the dark pebbles.

“Oh come on Cirrus!” Hadley scolded, coming up around behind him and messing up his hair. She snickered as he tried and failed to duck out of the way. “You had a great time. Do you think I missed you flirting with that pretty noble lady?”

Cirrus flustered, uncrossing his arms and stumbling over his tongue. “She started it!” He shook himself out with another huff, crossing his arms tighter than before. “But yeah, alright. It wasn’t all bad.” He watched his sister as she retuned to her perch on the log, a half smile on his face, before turning back to me. “You’re looking better than last time I saw you. At least like you’re not about to get blown over by the wind.” Cirrus paused a moment, just standing, watching me as the breeze slipped silent between us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with so much colour in your face.

Even at in the dark? I looked away a moment, watching the moon hang bright over the gentle swells. Maybe he had better night vision than I did because Striker had said the same thing.

“I uh,” I faced him again, tucking my hands in my pockets and out of the chill. “I’ve been seeing some doctors since I got back for a while now. I guess it’s working.” The wind picked up again and I hunched my shoulders until Cirrus stepped to my side, blocking out some of the gale. “Ginger was saying the other day she’d be alright with me coming back to the college.”

“You going to do it?”

I shrugged, pushing rounded stones from side to side with the toe of my shoe. “I… I hope so. It’s been a while.” A smile played at my lips. “I kind of miss it actually.

Cirrus snorted. “Bored at home already?”

This time I grinned, full and toothy. “Maybe.”

He rolled his eyes but kept quiet, attention drifting up from me to the lights of the city down the beach. I glanced back over my shoulder to follow his gaze only a moment before focusing back on Cirrus. In the dark he looked just like I remembered, like nothing changed. Like he hadn’t been gone for months now and he’d never returned to life as a dragon. Like Ember hadn’t moved into his bedroom and he was going to be in the kitchen tomorrow morning when I got out of bed.

A deep ache spread sharp through my throat, all the way up to the floor of my mouth and I looked away. He had his own life now. His own life somewhere far away. Somewhere I couldn’t go and find him like I used to. He’d come to see me this time tonight but how long would that last? I swallowed. He wouldn’t forget about me now that what he’d hoped to happen for years and years finally came about, right?

“Do you remember back then when I couldn’t speak my name?” Cirrus spoke low, eyes still drifting over my head to the city. “That day you found me?”

I don’t think I would ever forget, he must have known that but I nodded all the same.

He paused, hesitating before speaking again. “It hurt for a long time. I used to dream of hearing it again, to be who I was again. But then…” Cirrus finally tore his gaze from Eventide. He looked down at me, the faintest of the distant light reflecting in his eyes. “It didn’t feel the same anymore. I’m keeping Cirrus. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Really?” My voice came out smaller than I expected, thinned and brittle. “You don’t miss the other?”

Cirrus shrugged. “I can’t say I don’t, but I don’t know, I couldn’t bring myself to part with this name yet.” He half smiled. “My mother wasn’t exactly thrilled but she’ll get over it.”

From what I’d heard of her, I wasn’t surprised. “You’re still going to come and visit, right?”

“Of course.” Cirrus casted a sidelong glance at his sister still seated on the log and gazing out to sea. “Though it might be a while yet before I get the hang of shape shifting alone.” He paused a moment before turning back to me. “I’ll be around. I’ve got at least a couple more centuries of watching over Eventide’s storms after all.”

That long? I guess it made sense. He was a dragon after all. I smiled but broke halfway by a surprise yawn. What time was it?

A warm hand rested on my shoulder as Cirrus’ laugh drifted over the crashing waves. “Keeping you up?” He grinned down at me as he turned towards the city. “I’ll take you home.”

We walked along the beach towards the soft city lights. At this time of night we had the sidewalks to ourselves, only the occasional car passing by the empty roads. My arm brushed his, contented warmth easing from him to me. I quickly ran out of things to update him on since coming back to Eventide and he took over most of the way home telling me all about his sisters and the trouble they’d get into. Even in the low light I could see how he flushed talking about the woman Hadley had brought up on the beach. I smiled, struggling to keep my eyes open and half leaning against his shoulder as we walked.

He sounded happy.

#

Sun sinking low in the sky relief pooled in my chest seeing how quiet Eventide College was this time of day. A handful of people milled and wandered around the front stairs, some chatting and laughing in the gold-tinged light. Inside the front lobby soft echoes of conversation drifted through the still air and the little coffee shop sat nearly empty with the last few customers before closing time rolled around.

My footsteps echoed through the empty halls, clicking against the stone stairs spiralling down towards Ginger’s basement. I hadn’t told her I was coming but surely she wouldn’t be unhappy to see me all the way out here.

The air chilled and a familiar presence brushed against my arm. I slowed, letting Cynthia gently press up against my shoulder as her relief and excitement slipped through my skin. A smile spread on my face and I held out a hand. She knew me. She knew how to be gentle, how to contain herself unlike the panicked, desperate spirits who needed my help.

She slid though my palm, passing cold up the veins of my arm all the way up where they joined together in the subclavian. Good to see you again. It’s been a while.

I nodded along, continuing down the stairs as she settled in deeper tucked under my first rib. Been a while was an understatement. I swallowed. Had anyone told her what happened? It must have seemed like I’d just vanished one day, Ginger too. Charlotte filled me in. We were all worried about you for a while there. Glad to see you back on your feet. Thanks.

The stairs opened up to the little underground hallway, my footsteps booming in the quiet. I tucked my hands in my pockets and shifted as Cynthia nestled herself more comfortably towards my chest. Here to see Ginger? I nodded. If she’s here. She is. Saw her come in a few hours ago. Good. Good. Does this mean you’re going to stick around? I turned the last corner, slowing to a shuffle. Had I even considered not coming back here? Even if Ginger had told me I’d never be able to come back here would I really be able to just… Stop?

Even if you change you mind, her grin crossed my face, you should still stop by. You’re the easiest living person to chat with to come through those doors.Really? Faster than hijacking Charlotte’s computer. Fair enough.

I paused in front of Ginger’s office, the door slightly ajar. Cynthia stilled under my skin, cold and fluid. Could you give us a minute? Right. Was good to see you again Asher. She shifted a moment before breathing out through the thin skin at the top of my chest and vanishing somewhere through the walls of the college. Alone I stood another moment in front of the door. I took a deep breath, rested my hand on the door handle and opened it up just enough to poke my head into Ginger’s office.

She looked up from her computer as soon as she saw me. For a moment surprise seemed to flash across her face but in a heartbeat it shifted to a wide, fang-filled smile.

“Asher! Welcome back.”