#she did encourage me to send in something again so maybe ill give it another try !

[girl-bateman]

Specialised rejection letter lets gooooo 😭🙌

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

I Like You (Alexandra Trese x Diwata!Reader)

gif not mine    |main masterlist|

summary: In the middle of a case, confessions arise 

word count: 2046

warnings: mentions of illness, filipino traffic, i don’t proofread stuff

a/n: i’m only now writing again haha puta nakakagago yung writer’s block

        Team Trese was at it again with maintaining the balance between the Underworld and the world of humans. It wasn’t too difficult of a job to keep up with when your team—some would use that term loosely—consisted of Alexandra Trese, Hank Sparrow, The Kambal, and y/n. She was one of the newer recruits to the team.

        To outsiders, y/n was an enigma; she was a Diwata and yet nothing about her behavior would even suggest that she was one. The way she would often act was unbecoming of one’s expectations for a Diwata. There was no way one could instantly come to the conclusion that she was one especially with the glamour she wore to disguise her own appearance.

         Diwatas existed to preserve nature; one would expect them to keep a calm-headed demeanor, glimmering with an aura of positivity and radiance, all coming from the beauty of the environment that they shroud themselves in. If a monarchy were to take place in the Underworld, the Diwatas would be the epitome of regality, carrying themselves with grace and compassion.

        But y/n? She was a different story. At first glance, one may believe her to be a “corrupted” Diwata as she didn’t seem to uphold the same values her sisters did. Alexandra, though, held different impressions and thoughts on the h/c-haired deity.

        To Alexandra, the “darker” side to y/n wasn’t an irreversible defect coming from when she came to be. Alexandra knew there was so much more to the girl besides her impartiality to the way other Diwatas lived their lives and how she chose to live hers differently, hiding herself amongst the humans. There was so much more to her than meets the eye.

         Alexandra was sure y/n was a product to the environment she was born into. As one of the younger—well, if you could call nearly a century on the planet young—Diwatas, she didn’t get to experience nature at its peak, not the way the elders did, at least. She was not birthed to the beautiful colors of nature, nor the peace nature could provide one with.

        No. Alexandra understood that the girl was born to the destruction of what it was she was meant to be protecting. She didn’t get the opportunity to witness what it was she had to protect. She didn’t get to see the place she was meant to call home as the forest she was supposed to inhabit had been turned into a city before she could understand how to use her abilities.

        If anything, the human world poisoned y/n’s outlook on what it meant to be a Diwata. All the pointless destruction brought her both anguish and confusion. However, birthed from that confusion was y/n’s innocent need to help nature become one with the city life. Her goal was to at least bring small bits and pieces of what the world used to be into the city.

          “What’s the next case for today, Bossing?” Crispin questioned as soon as Alexandra set her phone down next to her in her seat.

           “There have been reports of illness among a group of Lumberjacks in the province. Some people are convinced it has something to do with supernatural beings who may have inhabited the forest. I was hoping y/n would know something about it,” Alexandra explained, sending y/n an eager glace, as though to ask what could have caused the fatigue to spread amongst the lumberjacks.  

         “Well, they’re lumberjacks, there are plenty of beings they could’ve pissed off,” y/n explained, earning a nod from both Crispin and Basilio, “I mean, there are plenty of creatures who live up in trees. It’s either that or the trees were in another creature’s domain. Either way, all this may have something to do with the chopping of trees.”

         “Could a Diwata have done this?” Hank questioned, earning a small glare from Alexandra before he backed up his statement to defend himself, “It’s just that the Encantados and Encantadas have been known for their power. y/n over here’s pretty powerful too, so we may never know if a Diwata could be responsible for this too or not.”

         “Hank’s right, but if there’s a Diwata taking domain over that land, I would have known already. Diwatas are mostly peaceful beings, and if there’s one of us out there riddling the human world with disease, there would have been some talk of it amongst the other Diwatas,” y/n explained, a small smirk making its way to her face as she added, “The older generation of Diwatas; they can be such gossips at times.”

       “So, it’s not a Diwata? Could it be a nuno or duwende living in the tree when it was cut down? Maybe they’re the ones spreading disease in the form of a curse,” Basilio suggested, earning a small nod of encouragement from his twin brother.

         “Well, the only way to know is to actually go to where the lumberjacks were working and investigate,” Alexandra stated firmly, before everybody else returned to whatever it was they’d been doing in the car; Hank driving, the Twins conversing over whatever topics it was that came to mind for them, y/n looking through social media in an attempt to keep up with everything happening in the human world, and Alexandra already thinking of possible solutions to whatever the problems they might have ended up encountering.

         The ride to the province took longer than expected. Despite the fact that they all left the house pretty early, it was already well into the afternoon—Philippine traffic was a pain in the ass when it came to travelling to the province from the city—when they finally parked the car in front of one of the houses in the Barangay.

         “This is the house of Danilo Corpuz, he’s one of the lumberjacks who fell ill after a day from work,” Alexandra explained, earning a nod from everybody else as they all got out the car and into the house.

         Alexandra made quick work of questioning the man, asking him about what he’d been doing, where they were cutting down trees, and if there’d been any signs of anything supernatural going on.

         “There were burnt up cigars and emptied out bottles of Red Horse at the trunks of the trees,” the man explained to them, as everyone present came to the realization of what it was they were all going to be facing.

       “How are we supposed to deal with the Kapres? They’ve been known to be vengeful and difficult to talk down whenever their trees are chopped,” Basilio huffed as the others slowly nodded in agreement. The Kapres were stubborn; there was no way to talk them out of seeking revenge however it was they saw fit considering it was the humans who’d made the first “attack” on their homes.

         “Trust me, I’ll find a way through it. Now, come on, let’s go. We don’t have time to waste, there could be lethal effects of the illness—or curse—if we don’t hurry,” Alexandra ushered them all back into the car. She sat at the front seat, studying the conditions of the treaty to see whether or not the Kapres laying their curses on the humans was against it and what punishments she could serve them.

         y/n smiled to herself, witnessing the determination on Alexandra’s face. She watched silently as the woman began to look through the items she kept in her coat for something that could be useful for them.

         “Hank, can we stop at a sari-sari store first?” y/n questioned, watching Hank’s eyebrow arch from the rearview mirror as though to question her on what could be so important for her to buy that it would delay the trip to the woods, “I need to buy a few bottles of Red Horse and some Marlboro. I figured it would help get the Kapres to loosen up and talk to us.”

         “That’s a great idea, Ate y/n!” Crispin exclaimed, high-fiving y/n upon hearing her suggestion, “Besides, I’m getting tired of all the fighting and having to regenerate.”

         “Does it consume your energy whenever you have to regenerate?” y/n questioned, raising a brow at the twins as Crispin chuckled.

          “No,” the twins chimed in unanimously. y/n found herself chuckling at their remark before getting off the car to where Hank stopped. Alexandra watched intently as the enchanting woman spoke with the tindera at the store before walking back in the car, plastic bag filled with vices swinging in her hand.

         Turns out, the woods where the lumberjacks had been working wasn’t too far from Danilo’s home. From the sari-sarii store, the trip there must have lasted them ten minutes. Everyone hopped out the car and ventured into the shadowy woods, knowing damn well what they were about to encounter.

        “I know you’re here,” Alexandra called out to the thick branches of the tallest trees in the forest. It was silent for a moment until the leaves on the branches began shuffling until at least four kapres made their presence known, no longer cloaking themselves with invisibility.

        “Little Trese, what’s this visit about?” one of the Kapres questioned, his dark eyes beaming into Alexandra’s. It was clear they weren’t exactly welcome there. Still, y/n wanted to try her best to avoid confrontation, so she slowly made her way towards the Kapre’s tree, then motioning for him to come down.

          As a Diwata, she and the other creatures of the forest naturally held mutual understandings between each other; after all, to some degree their interests and beliefs intersected where it mattered the most—preserving their homes. Hesitantly, the Kapre made his way off the tree as the team could only watch the interaction unfold.

        “You know what I am, don’t you?” y/n questioned slowly, tucking her hair between her pointed ears, giving a small smile as she dropped her glamour to reveal her true divine form, the Kapre nodded as y/n continued, “Right, well, these are my friends. Alexandra wishes to have a word with you and you will hear her out. In return, you get this.”

         The Kapre eyed the contents of the bag before nodding, taking the bag from y/n’s grasp and motioning for the others to get off the tree. y/n watched intently as the Tribe communicated with Alexandra, voicing their reasons, and listening as Alexandra tried her best to come up with a compromise to make sure no humans would get hurt and the Kapres would not be bothered.

        In the end, everyone agreed that the Kapres should be moved somewhere less open, somewhere where humans wouldn’t dare venture in pursuit for just lumber. They made a deal where y/n would guide them to safety while they take back whatever curse or disease they put on the human men.

         To y/n, watching Alexandra negotiate with the Kapres was almost like watching an artist create art; it was a satisfying process to watch from beginning to end. y/n had been so mesmerized that she forgot to put her façade back up when the negotiation ended. For a brief moment, Alexandra’s eyes met hers before y/n tore hers away quickly, already leading the Kapres deeper into the forest somewhere she knew would be safer for them.

       Alexandra began to quicken her pace, rushing over to y/n’s side.

       “What?”

       “What do you mean what?” y/n’s brows furrowed at Alexandra’s question.

       “What was that look about? The one you sent me when I was talking with the Kapres,” Alexandra questioned again, brows furrowed with confusion before y/n’s eyes widened, before the Diwata let out a chuckle.

      “Nothing, I just like you,” y/n shrugged as Alexandra found herself staring at the Diwata in disbelief.

      “You like me?”

      “Yeah? Why is that so hard to believe?”

       “Because you never talk about anything to anyone,” Crispin cut in, only to get a flick to the ear from Hank, telling him not to interrupt the pair’s conversation.

        “Right. That. Believe it or not, I admire you a lot, Alexadra. I find it admirable how you’re doing so much for both the human world and the underworld,” y/n, for what seemed like the first time to most, let out a soft smile in Alexandra’s direction, “Now, come on, we have a Kapre tribe to relocate!”

TRESE TAGLIST: @thatmultifandomloser​​ / @sitherin-mxschief​​ / @thegodswereneveronourside​ 

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

32. Reasons to not be in love with draco malfoy by harry

Prompt used- caressing the other's back | ANGST/FLUFF | UNREQUITED LOVE | HURT/COMFORT | Eighth year harry finds it hard to admit that he infact loves draco ..

" is it so bad harry that you like him ? " Hermione asked as a sad look dawned upon her tanned face

" what-no- yes- i mean- I don't like him. It's just he has changed so much and it seems unrealistic " harry covered up his tinted face by entailed more into his book

" sure harry, we believe you " Ron sarcastically responded.

" Ron- harry, you know it, you're lying to yourself and what if Draco have actually changed so much. I mean he apologized to me for everything he ever did. That has to be something and it was a genuine apology-"

" apologies doesn't change what he's done. And I don't like Malfoy " harry persisted almost agressively.

Hermione sighed looking at Ron, an indication for him to take the lead.

" mate, I hate him just as much as you do but she's right you know. You can ignore your feelings for how long! One day you would have to face them-"

" so what you want me to just go upto him and ask him out on a date? How blinded can you be ? I will prove that he hasn't changed. I will prove it " with that harry stormed out of the common room to the court yard to be under the sun and complete the rest of his work.

The problem was harry was immensely crushing on draco but it was so hard for him to believe that he'd much rather look for his flaws, it was easier as harry would like to put it. But it was so hard for him to actually look for a single flaw in draco after the war because he had changed completely. Long gone were the days when he used slurs like mudblood, in fact he himself was sending letters to the ministry over and over for stop discriminating against werewolves, muggle borns, squibs, and half bloods. It seemed too good to be true but harry knew he was genuinely doing it but his fainting heart didn't wanted to wake up one day and know that draco had not changed at all, so he chose to still finding his flaws.

2 weeks later upon constant teasing by Ron and Hermione about his research to find something suspicious or something flawed about draco, he realised he was standing in front of a lake which was completely dry. There wasn't even a single flaw and his heart could only take so much.

But he didn't wanted to give up, so during one of his charms lessons, harry took his quill and paper and started writing.

" Reasons not to be in love with draco malfoy "

" ugh.. scratch that " harry mumbled to himself unimpressed

" reasons not to be in love with draco malfoy"

" reasons to hate draco malfoy "

" reasons not to like draco malfoy "

Harry frowned to himself watching the paper, then dipping his quill in ink again and continued writing, only he couldn't. Stuck for minutes, harry looked across the room to see Draco smiling Kindly to a broken handed Neville and writing his notes for him. Harry groaned to himself, " bloody perfect git "

And then he wrote,

" draco malfoy - an absolute prat "

Impressed by himself harry closed his eyes and let himself ponder over every flaw he could muster and desperately failing but he needed something. One damn thing.

But found none.

He placed his hand over the paper once again and started

" 1. The prat have the most fucking Adorable smile. And he doesn't deserve it . It's illegal to have such an adorable smile "

Harry almost smiled at what he wrote but considering his circumstances he refused to. He looked up at Draco once again and continued again.

" 2. The idiot have the most beautiful fingers, bet it's stolen. They're the most fucking annoying thing ever and I can't bloody stop staring at it "

And with that Harry's motive unknowingly changed. He started writing about things about draco that annoyed him.

As week went on harry had listed almost 10 things he found annoying about draco.

" they're not flaws harry " Hermione pressed her lips in thin line to keep herself from laughing.

Blushing in embarrassment harry took the paper away " you wouldn't get it "

And as he started leaving he heard Ron laugh.

And he went back to the courtyard and going through the list once again.

" 3. The git have perfect annoying stormy eyes which makes you dream but also take you somewhere only both us could be "

" 4. He's unbelievably kind to everyone, even filch, how could anyone be this damn kind. Stupid "

" 5. He's got brain. Like actual great brain. He's intellectual, he's fucking smart. Like nobody asked you Smarty pants to be this damn smart "

" 6. He Knows exactly what he's doing. Like the other day in the great hall when he left the tea bag for far too long in his cup of tea, he poured a little of his tea into another cup, added ginger and lemon to his own cup and then some water again. Annoying as fuck "

" 7. He sits by the tree in the courtyard just staring at the damn sky and sometimes even draw it in his little doodle pad covered in leather, with a little blue stone right in the centre. Also half filled. God knows what he draws. Would be pretty fantastic though, considering how much time he spend drawing them and painting it. Hilarious to see him being focused. Idiot "

"8. He visits the professor Dumbledore's grave and just sit there crying. Don't know why I wrote it, just needed to. I understand him.

" 9. He talks with madam pomfrey about potions and their Ill effects. Again trying to be smart. He did help Seamus though after he fell from his broom sometime ago, guess he's got brain afterall "

" 10. He's bloody perfect. His damn face, beautiful as fuck, his nose looks like Micheal Angelo himself carved it on his face, his jawline, fuck, his skin is pale though but the way his skin glows when he's sitting in the courtyard doing something and the way he have a perfect blush. Who's blushing can be perfect ? But damn it, his blush is damn perfect as if something had put on natural flower colour upon his face and the way he have a specific smile for each occassion. The nervous smile, the grin, the quizzical smile, everything just super perfect. Stupid beautiful perfect prat "

Harry sighed understanding Hermione's point but he knew what he had written. This was everything he didn't like about him. Every single one of them, well not everything maybe but most of them.

Harry looked up, keeping the paper in one of his notebooks, to see Draco sitting on one of the pillars seat and reading something.

" prat even looks perfect reading " harry mumbled to him rolling his eyes yet couldn't help his curiosity for what he was reading because he wore probably the most perfect smile harry had seen. He hated to admit but maybe, draco was flawless, at least to him but he didn't wanted to admit. He was determined to find at least one flaw so he could prove them wrong, more him than anyone else. He just needed something flawed in him to convince himself that he wasn't desperately falling for him as his friends liked to say. One flaw, that's all he needed.

Harry kept all of his books inside his rag and decided to just walk around the halls before he'd depart to the common room but just as he had been exiting the courtyard, one thing he didn't wanted it to happen, happened.

" hey, po- harry "

Harry closed his eyes, breathing in before turning around to draco with a warming smile.

" what do you want Malfoy?"

" uh- draco- but nevermind. I wanted to actually ask you something, I mean I shouldn't, considering you still hate me but it's purely theoretical " Draco rambled giving harry a rather nervous smile. Fucking perfect again, harry thought.

" I- I don't hate you Malfoy, old habits die hard kinda thing you know " harry assured himself more than draco.

Draco pressed his lips in a thin line pondering on about what harry had just said.

" you wanted to ask ?" Harry impatiently said

" right- I- I've heard you taught defense in 5th year, including the patronus charm, i- since you've taught a few people I was wondering if you could tell me if people like me can- you know can cast one " draco scratched the back of his neck nervously, the same blush returning to his face again which harry always thought was probably the same shade as that of a cherry blossom..

" what do you mean by people like you ?" Just as the sentence had left his mouth, he realised how wrong had it sounded. Of course he knew what draco had meant but why did he had to ask him and embarrass draco ?

Draco inhaled the air surrounding them, closing his eyes as if he was gaining confidence for what he said next " I meant death eaters "

Harry suddenly felt like his tongue was in knots. He knew the answer but he couldn't reply and while draco looked at harry hopefully, his hope started to die out little by little as he watched harry standing quietly. His eyes suddenly turned from normal grey to something that was clouding him within himself, as if he was now concealing himself, like he was upbraiding himself.

" never mind- think I got my answer. Thank you po- harry. It was great help " draco voice sounded more harsh than it had sounded lately at and harry at once knew had broken draco's heart but before he could've undid his fault, he had scrambled away quickly and harry remained there waiting to get his voice back.

And when it finally did, it had started to rain, harry too scrambled away. Strange how the weather has been perfectly fine when he had first sat down in the courtyard and now it pouring down heavily after the misconception with draco.

Draco's smile was slightly dying out a little bit, and harry knew why but everytime harry ran after draco to correct his mistakes, he was tongue tied. Why was it so hard for harry to simply tell the truth ? Why couldn't he ?

In the mean time After harry had told Hermione and Ron about his faulty interaction with draco, they had stopped teasing and encouraged him to fix it as soon as possible.

It wasn't until during one of the defense classes, things took a better turn.

" now, you all have already learnt about how boggart works. It easily takes shape of what you fear the most but here what we have is pieret, it's a twin of a boggart but it is unusually different. A pieret not only senses your fear but induces in you the pain you'd feel when you're faced with your worst fear. Taking an example, if someone fears death, they would feel nothing Because death feels numb. If someone is afraid of lets say lizards, they'd feel irrational. You must be wondering then if you are faced with a boggart, then Also you'd feel the same thing, the answer is no, we predict what we'd feel, not actually feel while upon being faced with a pieret, it would heavily cast on you the feeling to the point where it may get hard to make sense of anything. However the defense against it is just as simple as that of a boggart,infact it is the same. Riddikulus. Now I would want each of you to clear your head and try not to think of your worst fears and then upon your turn with a blink of an eyes, say the spell and then sit down " the professor explained, not even stopping momentarily for asking students anything, as if he wanted to get done with the lesson. Frankly, everyone wanted the same.

The pieret however turned out to be more stronger than the boggart. Few students had to sit down to relax after their turn. When it finally came down to harry, he cleared his head and tried not to think of his worst fear . He saw the shape twisting and turning into someone very familiar, a scene very familiar. Before harry could cast the spell, the feelings had started to run frantically inside of him. He thought he mumbled something but nothing happened, voldemort was still standing, in his victory. Harry had lost the fight, resulting in huge massacre, everyone disappointed and then suddenly it had gone, now there stood a beautiful pink lily.

Harry immediately collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily.

" drink this " the professor commanded and he obliged, feeling the sensation dying out immediately.

" I need to go " harry hoarsely said and ran out of the room to the washrooms. He reached the same washroom moaning myrtle still resides in but somehow absent currently and he was glad.

Not for long. He soon heard the door open and close and someone walking inside. Harry was about to hex whoever had Walked in until he saw draco had appeared, looked devastating.

" it's only me. We don't want Same things to happen twice" draco announced. Harry immediately lowered his wand, still breathing heavily and becoming very aware of what Draco had said.

" I'd never used that spell again. I wouldn't ever "

" i know " draco gave him a small smile. Harry looked at Draco for a few moments before he sat down against one of the toilet doors, draco cautiously making his steps towards harry and sitting down next to him.

" why are you here ?" Harry finally asked, his knees pressed against his chest, looking up at the ceiling.

" wish I knew " draco responsed aligning himself in the same position as harry and staring up.

Harry hummed, not knowing what he should've answered.

" it's weird " draco suddenly said, a small laugh escaping his lips

" what is ?" Harry asked looking at Draco slightly turning his head to him, watching him staring far ahead.

" how both of our fears are the same "

And he finally turned to harry, with a deep pained expression painted in his dream filled eyes.

Harry quizzically stared at Draco " him gaining victory ?"

" yes and always letting people down. Disappointing them. Having no hope "

Harry was rendered speechless. Until he knew he needed to throw up. He immediately bashed through the door in front of him and puking into the toilet, emptying whatever was inside his body. He suddenly felt a hand on his back caressing him and faint encouragements reaching his ears. When harry was finally done, he leant back pressing his head against the door sighing. Draco's hand has left his back but harry still wanted them there, he didn't know why, but he just wanted that.

" any better ?" He asked. Harry nodded.

" here " draco passed him a bottle of water. Harry rinsed off the smell off his mouth, then drank some of it before flushing the waste away and going back to sitting in the middle alley with draco facing him.

" who do you feel you let down ?" Harry asked frowning at Draco.

Draco looked taken a back by Harry's sudden enquiry but soon comforted himself and began speaking " everyone. I just feel like that even after everything I'm trying to do, after trying so hard to be nice, helping everyone, trying to become a better person, I would still let people down. There will always be Someone who would want to look at my flaws and throw them in my face that no matter what I do, I'd still be draco malfoy the death Eater. I'm always afraid of letting them down, my parents, teachers, the ministry, my friends, classmates, you "

Harry stared at Draco long enough, understanding exactly how he must be feeling but feeling guilty at the same time for doing exactly what draco is fearing but once he had spoken it loud, harry wanting to seek his flaws was thrown out of the window, he just to hug draco right now and tell him that he's doing great.

" I don't hate you draco- I never did. I know you think I do, but I see you. You're trying really hard to become the better person and I can see It happening. If I were you I don't think I'd be able to do that but you, you're brave and confident and courageous to do this everyday. I could never "

" you'd never need to do all that. You already are everything you just said. You don't even need to try " draco gave him a little shrug. Harry's lip immediately turned into a sly smile, realising draco see's him that way, even if it was partially true.

" but you're different. Everyone already praise me, they've always done that. You, you're rising.. that's something much more braver than anything I'd ever done in life"

" are we going to sit here and actually assure each other how we're both doing great " draco joked. Harry immediately broke in a small laughter with draco. Being there with Draco right now was the most perfect thing harry could've ever dreamt of. How could he had possibly thought of wanting to hate draco ? It seemed irrational. Harry was driven by his hatred to find something in draco that didn't even exist and it's not because draco was perfect but because he was working on his flaws. Perfection had never been about being flawless, it has always been in redeeming your flaws. Harry laughed for as Long as he wanted with draco, never wanting this to end. It was a therapy and harry was glad to be a part of it.

When finally the laughter died out harry smiled at draco, picking up his wand and casting the patronus charm.

" my mom's patronus was a doe, mine's a stag. Snape's patronus was a doe too " harry told a pained looking draco until he finally reiterated Harry's words in his head and then it hit him

" he was a death Eater "

" he was " harry replied giving him small smile " a patronus isn't based on discrimination. It doesn't segregate between death eaters and wizard or the bad and the good or the rich and the poor. Patronus is based on a happy memory. I suppose why you'd think death Eaters can't cast a patronus is because they've never known true happiness. If you've ever felt true happiness in your life, you can cast one. There's both light and dark inside of us, it is what we chose to act upon, that's who we are. You're not a bad person draco, you never were and i know one day you'll be as to cast it. I'd liked to help if I can in anyways "

Draco stared at harry In surprise, his expressions changing to one filled with hope and turning into a smile.

" I'd like that " draco responded nodding.

" then we'll practice the spells whenever you'd like" harry smiled before he started putting things in his rag, after hearing the bell to finally get up to leave.

" draco "

" yeah"

" thank you . I- this was different- and just thank you " harry smiled hanging his rag on his shoulder.

Draco smiled nodding at him, getting up himself.

With a deep breath harry finally turned around to leave, smiling to himself, thinking of how he could just burn the list now.

" harry- you dropped something "

Harry turned around to see Draco holding a piece of paper.

Fuck.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes fell upon the words inked on it. Harry immediately hustled in his bag to look for that one specific sheet. No, no, no,no ...

Draco looked up at harry quizzically " reasons to .... "

PART 2 | Requests open

Day 31 - would you come back to me ? | Day 33- tasting their smile

[vee-is-a-writter-now]

The things we never tell.

[[Zuko x Reader]]

Summary: After the war Y/N strays away from her friends, and her relationship with Zuko seemed everytime more distant, slowly she starts to fall into a darker place.

A/N: I took a very extensive but very needed break, I’m incredibly sorry to anyone who sent me a request before I disappeared and was left waiting for me to post it but my mental health was not the best during this past few months and it’s been hard to do anything at all. But I’m back and I hope writing again gives me a sense of purpose or something lol. Talking about mental health, this fic talks about heavy topics like depression and isolation, if you’re not confortable with that or are going through this stuff I recommend skipping this one, I will have lighter fics coming soon. Remember you are never alone, no matter how much you feel like it. There’s always someone to reach out to or ask for help.

Requested: Yes!!!! By a lovely blog that deactivated but went by the name of aristasiaclarke :( (yes that’s how long I’ve been away) But side note, if you sent me a request before my break and would still like me to write it send it to me again I’d be more that happy to do it!

Warnings: Depression, Anxety, Isolation, Angst

~IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS DONT HESITATE TO ASK ~

The war was over, it had been for months now, yet some things hadn’t gone back to normal . You decided to stay in the palace after Zuko was crowned since your relationship with him had only grown stronger by being so close to losing eachother. Your friends on the other hand all went their separate ways. The friend group you’d spent so many days with, planning on how to defeat the firelord, training, camping, going on missions, it all became just memories and it had been so long since you’d all been together last. You couldn’t complain though, you understood after everything that had happened all your friends were left with many responsibilities laying on their shoulders and, in a way, none of you were the same kids you were when this adventure started. You had all grown up.

Zuko and you spent a lot of time together those first few months since you moved in, that period of time when his people understood his need to settle into his position and take charge of his nation, but after that was over the workload was relentless, Zuko had been left with a broken nation and the full responsibility of fixing it. At first he always made sure to eat every meal with you, chat and update you on everything new that had happened, little by little he started to miss lunch and then it was dinner, soon breakfast and any midday break was gone as well. It came to a point where you rarely saw him at all, him working so late you were usually asleep by the time he came to bed, if he did at all, and you waking up to an empty bed every morning.

Slowly but surely a feeling you knew all too well started reappearing in your chest, something you hadn’t felt in years and were too scared of to even acknowledge. You tried to figure out what to do with all the free time you had in your hands so the feeling wouldn’t consume your mind, you remodeled at least fiver rooms in the palace, picked up several hobbies, offered your help to servants all around just to be rejected, anything and everything your mind could think of, but nothing was enough. That darkness and emptiness inside of you seemed to be determined to conquer your every waking moment once again.

Last time this happened you had your old friends around you, back at home. You family did everything they could to help you, and little by little you learnt how to heal. But this was different, all you had now were empty hallways that lead to even emptier rooms, and the ones that weren’t empty you weren’t permitted to go into.

Days were longer and shorter at the same time; on one hand, a day seemed to last ages, all you did was wait til night fell so you could go back to bed and rest, on the other you started spending more time inside your room, taking naps here and there turned into sleeping most of your days, taking baths became a task harder than any of the ones you’d had to complete in your adventure days, the curtains stayed closed and the bed unmade, day and night slowly started to blend in together.

Servants noticed first, they knocked on the door several times a day to ask if you needed anything at all, to which you would always answer no. When you stopped going to the dinner hall they started to bring food to you, most of which you didn’t eat. One too many times they even had to drag you to the bath so they could get a chance to clean your room.

It was your personal maid who had decided to finally bring in the palace medic. After running some tests on you he concluded there was nothing wrong with you and all it could be was hormonal changes. But hormonal changes weren’t supposed to last weeks, not to mention months.

The maid tried encouraging you to go out to town, visit some new boutique that had opened or a restaurant with great reviews, but all you ever said was “maybe tomorrow”. She came to understand that tomorrow wouldn’t come.

—————————

One day she decided to not stand by and witness a girl who had once been the light in every room wither away. It took all her courage to approach the fire lord,. Even though she knew of his kindness and how different he was from his predecessor he was still an intimidating ruler.

“Fire lord” she called as the young man walked through the palace surrounded by his officials, discussing some political matter she assumed. He didn’t seem to hear her so she sped up and stood in front of the group of men.

“I’m sorry but any issue at the moment will have to wait, important matters need to be addressed with urgency.” He informed her with his usual formal tone.

“Your majesty, it’s miss Y/N, she-” the maid started but was soon interrupted

“Yes, well if she requires my presence please inform her I’m occupied at the moment, but whatever she needs she can ask the help to do it for her.” Zuko attempt to walk past her but the maid stopped him once again.

“Your majesty, I hope I’m not being too bold but I don’t think you understand, she’s very unwell.” the maid saw as Zuko was about to protest her audacity, but once his eyes fell on her he seemed to realize the seriousness of the matter.

Zuko’s heart sank, all kinds of thoughts went through his head, had you gotten injured? Had one of the rebellious groups he’d been dealing with infiltrated the castle and taken you? had you fallen ill with a terrible condition? He soon turned to his second in command and said “You can take charge from here”

The man rather surprised replied after a few seconds “Your majesty, this matter requires your presence, it can not wait.”

“Well it will have to, I’m going to be unavailable the rest of the day. I’m sure you all can manage without me.”

———————

Nothing could’ve prepared Zuko for the sight he encountered when he entered the royal chambers. He hadn’t sleept there a few nights in a row, not wanting to wake you up at late hours when he was done with his workload of the day, but even when he did sleep there he was too tired to even notice anything wrong. Now, at broad daylight, he saw it all.

You were cuddled up under the covers, your hair matted and messier than ever, very dark under eye bags and an extremely pale complexion, even laying down and under blankets and covers he could tell you’d lost a worryingly amount of weight. He’d never seen you in such state.

“What happened to her? Is she ill?” Zuko asked the maid who stood next to him.

“The medic has been called, your majesty, he wasn’t able to point out anything wrong with her. Said it was just hormonal changes, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on.” she said softly.

“Well then bring another doctor in. Someone has to know what’s wrong.”

“Yes, your majesty, we’ll being someone else in first thing tomorrow.” she bowed and was about to leave the room when the firelord stopped her.

“Thank you... for bringing this to my attention and for looking after her.”

The maid just bowed once again and made her way out of the room. Zuko walked up to you, your eyes were closed and even in your sleep an uneasy expression was plastered on your face.

“Love...” he cooed stoking the side of your face slowly. “Hey, darling... wake up.”

He made sure to rest his hand on your forehead to see if you had a fever, but on the contrary you were rather cold. You barely opened your eyes, but it was enough for Zuko to see how the light that had once been there was now gone.

“Zuko?” you asked, your voice barely audible and raspy as you tried to blink the sleepiness away slowly.

“Hey, do you feel sick Y/N? Does anything hurt?” Zuko’s hand had moved from your forehead to your cheek and his thumb was now sweetly caressing your skin.

You hadn’t felt a loving touch in what felt like so long, you’d almost forgotten that you could feel something good and not painful. It was all it took for tears to slowly start forming in your eyes and eventually rolling down your face.

At the sight of your partner’s concern, you forced yourself to smile a little and respond “Nothing hurts.”

“Y/N... something’s not right. I’ve never seen you like this before, i need you to tell me what’s going on.” Zuko’s voice was almost breaking, you could tell how hard he was trying to be strong and keep collected for you, this broke your heart even more.

You took in a deep breath, your mind running while trying to find an answer for him. You knew what was wrong, you’d ignored it so far, pushed it away even though it now consumed your every waking moment, but you knew you couldn’t do this anymore. “I don’t feel well, Zuko. I haven’t for a while now.”

“Are you ill? We’ve called a doctor already, he should be-” He said before you cut him off.

“Zuko... It’s not that kind of unwell.” you almost whispered. “A doctor can’t help me with this.”

The firelord seemed lost for a while, not quite sure of what you meant. You took a second before sitting up on the bed and pressing your back against the headboard. You decided to recount the events of the last time you’d gone through this to him, every sleepless night and every full of sleep day, the multiple crying sessions, the pain and hopelessness, the ever changing appetite, the heavy chest you couldn’t seem to get rid of. This was all terribly hard for you to do but needed to be done, for your sake and for his. Zuko didn’t seem to understand at first, his eyes looking at you attentively, waiting for the moment where the pieces of your story would fall into place. It took you saying how what was wrong with you wasn’t physical but rather emotional for him to get what you were referring to. His face had fallen into a heartbreaking expression, you didn’t know if it was guilt or pity or something in between.

Once you were done and the tears that pooled in your eyes while tellling your story had fallen, Zuko held your hand tightly. “This is all my fault. You should’ve been my priority.”

“Zuko...no. This isn’t your fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” You assured him as your hand went up to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry. You shouln’t have had to deal with this alone. You were there for me when no one else was and I want to do the same for you, always.” He tilted his head into your palm before turning slightly to kiss it.

“I’d like that... I really would.”

For the rest of that night, you and your partner opened up to each other like you’d never had before. For the first time since the war had ended you didn’t feel so alone, you were together and that made you feel like you had the strength to get better, maybe not today or in the days to come, but someday. He gave you hope.

[blitzturtles]

Title: It Starts Like This, Ch. 7

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): BruAbba

Summary: Trish freezes in the doorway, mid-stride, but she doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. It adds weight to his ongoing theory that she’s been steering clear of him, and now it’s time to confirm whether or not he knows why.

Notes: Turns out being dead has a bit of a long term effect. Who would have thought?

This fic got away from me, so I'm breaking it down by character interaction (sort of). This is Trish's chapter, which should be the second to last! I'll still write in this universe in the future, though they'll likely be one-shots going forward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

-

Bucciarati steps into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty. As far as he knew, the only three people at home were Narancia, Leone, and himself. The former is busy doing his homework in the library, while Bruno’s just left Leone’s presence to explore the contents of the pantry. Alone. Or so he’d thought.

A blur of pink nearly startles Bucciarati as badly as he must scare Trish, considering the way she nearly jumps out of her seat at the dining room table. Rather than sit back down, she’s scrambling up to weave past him. “Oh! Bucciarati! I’m sorry, I can- I can go,” she says, moving almost too quickly for Bucciarati to recover in time to catch her, much less speak.

“Wait, Trish.”

Trish freezes in the doorway, mid-stride, but she doesn’t turn around. Her shoulders are tense, and she looks prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble. It adds weight to his ongoing theory that she’s been steering clear of him, and now it’s time to confirm whether or not he knows why.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Bucciarati says, speaking the words slowly. Carefully. He doesn’t want to chase her off before they have a chance to talk.

Trish sucks in a breath, but she doesn’t find the right words to reply despite the frantic look in her eyes.

Bucciarati decides that’s his cue to continue. “Since the day in Giorno’s office, you won’t stay in any room that I am in alone.” He picks his words as carefully as he can. He’s not offended, but he doesn’t know how to emphasize that to her while still getting down to the root of the problem. “Something’s bothering you.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Trish manages to squeak out.

Bucciarati doesn’t need to brush up on his interrogation skills to know that she’s lying. She isn’t particularly good at it, either. At least not when she’s trying to lie to him. Someone else, maybe, but he sees right through the brave face she attempts.

“Trish.”

“It’s nothing! Really!” She grabs the doorframe, as if he might drag her back into the kitchen when she makes a run for it.

“If I may be so bold,” Bucciarati starts, still careful, “You’re feeling guilty. You have been for a while.” He doesn’t need all of his life experience to know that. The look on her face screams it.

Trish wavers in place. Her hand drops from the doorframe, but only so she can wrap her arms around her middle. She hugs herself tightly, as if she can ward away the onslaught of reality. It makes Bucciarati feel guilt of his own for pushing the subject. Maybe she isn’t ready, but he doesn’t want her pain to continue over this. He thinks she’s done more than enough self-loathing, and the punishment is unjust. She’s committed no crime.

Blood once meant everything to Bucciarati. He killed for his blood, traded his life away to the mafia for a few short and illness-riddled years for his blood, but he would never assign the sins of the father to that of the child. Trish is not-- and never has been-- her father. She isn’t capable of doing half of the things Diavolo did in his life.

Trish’s breathing hitches, and it’s all the encouragement that Bucciarati needs. He carefully moves toward her, stepping around her turned back so that they’re facing one another. He brushes his fingers through her hair and tucks some of it away from her face. The first tear falls then, and it breaks his heart.

“Trish,” he repeats, hoping she’ll look at him, but he knows she won’t. All she does is tuck her chin into her shoulder in shame. If she can’t run, then she might as well try hiding. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I know,” she says. Lies.

Bucciarati sighs, though immediately regrets it when Trish flinches away from him. For lack of a better idea, he pulls Trish against his chest and smooths a hand over her hair. “You didn’t do this.”

“But you did it for me!”

Ah. There it is.

“And I would do it again,” Bucciarati reassures. “I didn’t expect our path to involve you, but Giorno and I had intended on taking down your father before we met you. You didn’t change that.” Though she had given him a renewed purpose. A reason to fight even beyond death.

“It doesn’t matter,” Trish insists with a voice that breaks halfway through.

Bucciarati can feel the wetness of her tears against his-- or, rather, Abbacchio’s-- shirt beginning to build as more fall. He continues to brush his fingers through her mass of pink curls. “You didn’t hurt me, Trish.”

“But he did, and he did it because you were trying to protect me!”

“Losing you wasn’t an option,” Bucciarati answers with a gentle squeeze. He lets his chin rest on top of her head and takes a moment to calm his own thoughts.

“Why?” She asks when the silence stretches on between them.

Bucciarati doesn’t think that’s the question that she really wants to ask. And he knows that she doesn’t want-- and won’t accept-- the answer, anyway. Because you deserve to live, he would tell her, if it would mean anything to her right now. He knows what she’ll say in response. Knows she’ll tell him the same, and that his life wasn’t worth her’s.

“You didn’t choose this life,” it’s a gentle reminder, but one that she apparently needs. Her situation is a result of her birth. There’s nothing she did to warrant any of this. “None of this is your fault.”

“Like you did?” Trish snaps the words at him, all sharp edges and surprisingly painful. “Why do you think you deserve this?” She’s demanding now, despite the snuffle in her voice. She’s more anger than unending melancholy, and it’s throwing him off, but not as much the words himself. He doesn’t have an answer to give. Not this time.

She deflates after a moment of receiving no reply and tries to pull away, but he won’t let her. He knows she regrets the words, but he understands why they hang in the air. Why she had to say them. It’s not as if she’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean he knows what to do with them.

“You save everyone around you, and- and for what?” Her hand slams against his chest, open palmed and far from painful. “Was it really worth it?” Her voice is no more than a whisper now.

“Yes,” Bucciarati answers; this time without hesitation, because this is an answer that he does have. A truth that he knows with absolute certainty.

Trish chokes on a sob, and Bucciarati pulls her against him once more.

“Why?” She repeats her earlier question.

Grief is a miserable thing, and he finds that question at the center of it so often. He remembers asking himself that on a loop for years on end without ever finding an answer that satisfied him after all the suffering.

Silence stretches over them once more, and he lets Trish cry with the question hanging between them. It doesn’t matter anymore. The important part is that he’s pushed past the worst of it. He’s confident now that she won’t continue to avoid him. At least not to the same degree. The healing will take time, but he hopes that she’ll allow him to take part in it. That’s all he could truly ask of her anyway. He wants to be there for the people he cares about when they need it, regardless of whatever’s happening in his own head.

“I’m sorry,” Trish says when her sobs slow, and she’s hiccupping more than gasping. She tries to wipe at the tears with frantic hands, but he interrupts her to offer the handkerchief from his pocket.

“Don’t be.”

After taking a moment to wipe at her face, she looks at him again and her expression shifts to mild horror as she takes in the mixture of snot and tears staining the front of his shirt. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

Bucciarati can’t help barking out a short laugh. He squeezes her shoulder gently. “Ah, no harm done. It’s one of Leone’s, anyway.” The dismissiveness is only a joke. He’ll replace the shirt before Leone notices it’s gone, but he gets his intended effect when she lets out a startled laugh that has him smiling warmly at her in response.

“Oh, you were coming in here. Are you hungry?” Trish asks, suddenly remembering how their entire conversation started. She shifts her eyes to the table, clearly not ready to part ways now that they’ve worked through some of what’s been bothering her.

Bucciarati is more than happy to take the invitation. He goes a step further and turns it around on her, “Actually, I was thinking about having some gelato. Care to join me?”

“Depends,” Trish says with false hesitance. She’s teasing him now, and it makes him smile even wider in response, “What kind?”

“Stracciatella?”

Trish tries not to beam, and Bucciarati bites back an endeared laugh. She seems lighter now. Less restrained. She’s not trying to hide from him or avoid letting him see her emotions. There’s a weight off of her shoulders, and he’s glad that he could alleviate some of her misplaced blame.

“Can we eat in the living room?”

“I don’t see why not,” Bucciarati says with a shrug. It’s not as though they haven’t all broken that rule time and time again.

“You’re the best!” Trish calls as she bounces out of the room, presumably to find something for them to watch.

Bucciarati takes a moment to compose a text to Leone. A quick, barely legible update to the ‘Trish situation’, as they’d affectionately been calling it. Leone sends his response before Bucciarati’s phone touches the counter, and he bites back a fond smile, knowing that Leone must have been waiting for an update after so long. He’s doing his best to avoid being overbearing, but it’s not always easy.

Trish pokes her head back through the doorway before Bucciarati can set his phone back down, though she doesn’t give it a second glance before asking, “Are cartoons okay?”

“Depends,” Bucciarati says, reaching for the bowls. “Are they the ones Mista likes?”

“God no.”

“Then yes.”

[guiltysecretpasttime]

Untitled Linzin fanfic

(Yet again?)

This came to me while staying at home one day (one day of many, mind you). Am I okay with starting another multi-chapter Linzin story? Maybe. Will I push through with it? Absolutely. Should this be taken seriously? No, please don’t. Am I abandoning my other work? Of course not.

Don’t take this plot seriously since it’s just something that I felt like I want to write down and share. But… let’s see. Consider this a crackfic /trope centric fic eh haha. Consider this my contribution to this teeny tiny space in the fandom.

Please leave a comment or a reply as to what you think about this. I’m gauging this to be like 3 to 4 chapters long only though.

I think this will keep as untitled for now – until I figure out the right title. And summary / overview.

---

Untitled

Overview

Legend of Korra fanfic – Linzin endgame AU

1 of 3 (or 4?) chapters (or more, if I decide to post them in chunks) – I really haven’t thought this out (shrugs and looks around shiftily)

Pre-canon AU (prior to Book 1)

--

The airbender gently slid the door closed, careful not to disturb any of its sleeping occupants. He knew he was late but as with everything – his children always came first.

He looked up at the moon, peeking from behind gray clouds. The rain did not let up at all during the day.

It was a pity. It was, after all, the first time that his children found themselves on an Ember Island vacation. It was to celebrate Jinora’s birthday – at least that was what the press release was.

He hurried across the courtyard, ignoring the squelching sounds that his sandals made on the mud and puddles.  Passing no one on his way, Tenzin finally reached the right hall.

He quickly dried himself before entering what everyone knew as the Fire Lord’s family hall, which was precisely why they selected it. He crept into the dimly lit hall, shadows were wavering across the pillars and the walls. Nonetheless, the pretense of a nightcap among the grownups was well executed with the spread on the long table.

He sat down immediately beside his mother, who inclined her head in acknowledgment.

Fire Lord Izumi cleared her throat and the soft buzzing of conversation silenced.

“Now that we’re complete – let’s get right to it.”

The airbender’s eyes wandered across the room, to everyone sitting at the long table of the Fire Lord.

Everyone who was anyone to his late father was present. Everyone alive, that is. The lack of guards or security personnel was nothing new in this situation though – in a room of bending masters, it was almost foolish to expect guards to be standing in attention, alert for any disturbance.

“As we know the Red Lotus is back at its game.” Lord Zuko now presided the meeting and went straight to the heart of the clandestine gathering. “There has been reliable intelligence that they are gaining traction on the ground and there are rumors of freeing their known members.”

To their credit, no one in the room gasped or expressed their incredulity of such a claim.

Bumi began to share all the pertinent information from the report (Tenzin idly thought that being a commander suited his brother’s temperament). It was alarming to hear of pockets of violent incidents across the nations and the United Republic that can be traced back to the Red Lotus.

Chief Tonraq took the action to inform his brother Unalaq to strengthen the guards at the North as one of the prisoners were being held there.

Katara said that the White Lotus has already been informed of the case and she had personally requested to have the number of Zaheer’s guards increased. Bumi spoke of fortifying the defenses in all the other security prisons.

“Well, if everything is secured, why even call for us?” The gruff voice of Toph Beifong finally joined the foray.

Suyin fidgeted from Toph’s side, clearly uncomfortable with the discourse.

Truth be told, he did wonder at Suyin’s presence.

When Lord Zuko issued the invitation to Ember Island, he was surprised at the arrival of the Zaofu Beifong family, knowing that they have been estranged from some time. He thought that maybe it was just in keeping up with the ruse of a family reunion. Nonetheless, here they are now and Su was found to be in their midst. She was the youngest child of their generation and had been, more often than not, shielded by her mother when it came to serious and bordering dangerous matters. It had always been the eldest Beifong daughter who shouldered the brunt of the situation.

But then again, no one called attention to the empty seat at the other side of Toph Beifong tonight. Tenzin was sure it was not allotted for Baatar (who had stayed behind to see to the bedtime of the children).

Despite her stature, Toph still managed to command the room. “The Avatar is currently far from Republic City and I don’t think her parents will be taking her on a trip to Zaofu anytime soon. I don’t see the need for us,” Her emphasis heavily implying her family. “To even be here.”

All of a sudden, Tenzin realized the former Fire Lord looked all of his age as he drew in a breath. “While that may be true, Toph, the Red Lotus is looking for a gateway to the spirit world. They think true power and equality will only be brought about by uniting our world with the spirit world. Or barring that, a way to force the Avatar’s hand.”

“But she’s a child!” The Avatar’s father choked out.

“We are well aware that never stopped them.” There was a slight pause in remembrance on what had happened the first time the Red Lotus attacked the Avatar’s family. There had been losses.

Kya spoke up, trying to figure out what that could mean. “If the prisons are heavily guarded and all the leaders of the nations have their own security detail, what else are they looking to? What is in Republic City? What are they targeting?”

“The airbenders.”

All heads turned to a figure who had been leaning in the shadows of one of the pillars. Tenzin wondered how he could have missed her.

Lin Beifong pushed herself off the pillar and grudgingly took a seat beside her mother. “Is it the airbenders then, Lord Zuko?”

All of a sudden, Tenzin realized Lord Zuko looked all of his age as he nodded solemnly. “They knew they need to lure the Avatar or in its place, use a master airbender to their bidding.”

Said master airbender’s eyes flashed. “I would never -!”

“They could use Jinora as leverage.” Understanding was visible on Bumi’s face. “Everyone knows Jinora can already airbend.”

“That’s sick.” Su managed to murmur, sinking further into her seat. “Using kids in their nefarious plans…”

“They’re not known for their mercy, sweetheart.” Bumi shrugged, years of being in the military hardening him some.

“We can add more protection for the children.” Katara threw a concerned glance at her youngest child.

Toph scowled. “So, what are you suggesting? Aside from the White Lotus, Republic City police would need to pull funds to provide bodyguards at Air Temple Island? Mind you – it would be hard to get this funding for a civilian.”

“I’m sure the White Lotus would be enough.” Fire Lord Izumi attempted to mediate what was rapidly about to become a heated discussion.

“Maybe not,” Tonraq disagreed, already shaking his head.  “If we pull in resources across the nations for the high security prisons and the sentries for Korra, I don’t think we would have any to spare for Air Temple Island at this period. Recruiting and training more could jeopardize the quality of the White Lotus.”

As the people around him continued to toss around arguments and recommendations, Tenzin could feel everything closing in.

When his wife passed a little over a year ago due to a stomach bug that had gone untreated for so long, Tenzin had stepped down from his role as part of the city council and instead turned to raising his two daughters and rebuilding the Air Nation (or what was left of it). The transition of public figure to private citizen was a welcome balm to him and his young family. His mother and sister had stayed on the island for a couple of weeks during Pema’s illness and subsequent passing, but they did have lives to go back to in the South Pole.

Tenzin thought he managed okay – training acolytes, tending to his daughters’ needs, documenting what was available of the Air Nomad culture… His visits to Republic City were now less frequent compared to his council days. He had developed a routine and he thought they were coping well.

But now, with the tenuous peace that he finally thought he attained was now at the risk of crumbling, he was at a loss on what to do. It had been a while since he felt like this – back when his father passed, and even then there was someone he had with him to support him.

“We need to send them away then.” Iroh’s voice drew Tenzin’s attention back to the discussion. “They’ll be sitting ducks at the island.”

Toph snorted and Izumi glared at the blind woman’s reaction to her son. “Yeah? Then what – they join the Fire Lady’s entourage? Or maybe head on to the tundra with the Avatar? The Red Lotus would probably be grateful that you placed all their targets in one area.”

Izumi countered. “That would solve the issue of spread out resources – if we concentrate them in a location, that may work.”

“On the other hand, what sort of excuse would you give for Master Airbender here to be away from his temples that long?” Lin asked with a tone so casual, you would have thought they were discussing the weather. “It would not do for the Red Lotus to know that we are unto them so soon when we have yet to strategize how to take them down.”

Tenzin found himself silently agreeing. Lin always was the pragmatic one.

Zuko stroked his beard in thought. “We could have them over – extended vacation maybe? Or we go around on vacation to the temples? That way we can use the Fire Nation’s security detail.”

“That would be a negative.” Iroh reddened as he realized he just spoke against his grandfather. At his encouraging nod, the younger firebender continued. “That would be a logistical nightmare. Too many variables to consider.”

Bumi suddenly perked up. “That’s it!” The shaggy-haired man stood up with a snap. “Variables – and what you all said.” He waved a hand across the table. “They can join the Fire Lady’s entourage -.”

“What!” The collective disbelief echoed in the hall.

He raised his hand in supplication. “Hear me out -what if he joins the Fire Nation Royal family as actual family? Surely questions won’t be raised.” Seeing that no one was getting his point, he decided to say it plainly. “I’m saying what if Tenzin marries Izumi?” There was a lot of disagreements to his pronouncement and so he raised his voice. “That way, it won’t be odd if he stayed there or if they become under protection of the Kyoshi Warriors.”

If Lin was the pragmatic one, Bumi always was the wild one.

And practically everyone had a say on that.

“That would never pass, Bumi.” Lin.

“You can’t pull the wool over the eyes of the public with that. What more the Red Lotus?” Kya.

“Sorry but I don’t think Master Tenzin here is my daughter’s type.” Zuko.

“Dad. Well, aside from that, the optics for that kind of union would not bode well for international peace.” Izumi.

“I don’t need a stepdad.” A beat. “Siblings would be welcome though.” Iroh.

“I agree with Izumi -this may come across as the Air Nation siding with the Fire Nation.” Tonraq.

“I doubt the Earth Queen will remain quiet too.” Su.

“Meh. I say just toss Junior here and his spawn to some remote resort (or here even) and just say he went on a vacation.” Toph.

A snort. “Now that won’t fly – Tenzin never goes on vacation.” Bumi.

“Bumi, it’s not nice to make fun of your brother’s troubles.” Katara.

Tenzin simply shook his head at his brother, who still did not look deterred at all even as the conversation around continued to dissect and put down his ludicrous suggestion.

The older man was frowning, walking around the table while partaking on the board of dried meat, fruits and cheese laid out for them.

From the other end of the table, Lin tossed grape into her mouth while Su said something that sounded like “manners!”.

At that moment, Tenzin made the mistake of catching his brother’s eye. He did not trust the gleam in Bumi's eyes.

“I got it!” Bumi once more got hold of everyone’s attention. “True, Izumi as a bride  might be to farfetched, but there are merits to the Tenzin gets married deal. No questions will be asked if he spends time with family, out of the public eye, you know – a regular honeymoon. As to the lovely bride, why not someone he has had history with – that would make the whirlwind romance and wedding more plausible, won’t it?”

Tenzin’s heart sank at who his brother was implying. 

Oh no. Surely he didn’t mean…

“Why not marry Lin Beifong?”

---

Note: Why not indeed? 🤔 where am I going with this? You shall find out real soon. Lemme know whatchuthink.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Chasing Providence {Dimitrescu/OC} Pt 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairings: TBA, at minimum platonic House Dimitrescu/OC, with some wlw side characters (also original, but not the focus of the story) Rating: T for mild violence and possibly triggering content Warnings: A character briefly threatens suicide as a means of prolonging a conversation (i.e. saying "if you don't listen, I'll ___") Additionally, this contains spoilers for Resident Evil 8. Summary: Months after being infected with a mysterious virus, investigative journalist Avaskian Caldwell is left with no choice: Xe has to get help, one way or another, from whatever remains of the Umbrella Corporation could be trusted. Or, perhaps, from the very person who started it all... Along the way xe'll have to get along with vampires, fight off would be hunters, befriend a hoard of cultists, all while performing the duties of an everyday servant. There's nothing xe won't try as xe's forced to chase providence. Notes: While this chapter features a somewhat talkative Ava, xe's normally selectively mute, and will be for the entire rest of the story.

1: Blood Runs Thick

“This can’t be it. No fucking way, bruv, are you sure you got the address right?” The journalist asked, eyes narrowed as xe stared out into the distant hills. One hand held a phone, currently without any signal, while the other kept a tentative grip on the van’s door handle. To their side was the driver, a middle-aged man with relatively little patience. When he replied, it was in a language the journalist didn’t speak, but could clearly understand as a swirl of profanity. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not like I could afford to pay you to take me back, anyway… I’ll just, uh, be going then. Try to have a nice day, eh, you old chap?” With that said xe opened the door, hopping out rather eagerly. After tucking xer phone into xer pocket, xe quickly gathered xer bags from the trunk, half expecting the man to drive off before xe had a chance.

Surprisingly, he stayed all the way until the journalist gave two hard pats to the van’s side. Then he practically slammed the gas pedal, speeding off in a whirling cloud of dust and kicked up rocks, promptly sending xer into a coughing fit. Curse these feeble lungs, xe thought, scowling. Absent-mindedly xe put a hand to xer throat, silently checking if xer, ahem, ‘wounds’ were still covered. Once satisfied, xe turned to the long, winding path into the village. Was this truly where the ever-elusive “Miranda” could be found? What in the blazes of hell was a scientist like herself doing here, in a mostly empty stretch of Romania? The thought sent a rush of anxiety to the journalist’s chest, as xe wondered if this “Miranda” would even consider helping xer. Xe hoped that, at the least, xer unique case would get her attention.

In the end, it took xer twice as long as expected to reach the village proper. There were no signs along the path, nor signs of life, other than countless dead birds, hung like falling leaves from every tree. Once, a display this gnarly would have made bile rise up in xer throat. But these days? After everything xe had researched? This was no hell, not when compared to the bombed ruin that was Raccoon City. Yet xe still cut xer hand when hopping the barbed wire fence, as if once again a rookie, too desperate for the truth to see the proper world. Fresh blood dropped onto the snow, but xe allowed xerself no wince nor complaint, instead focused on the figures moving in the distance. Strangers. Nay, sources. Someone would know something about the mysterious Miranda, even if they didn’t realize it.

So the journalist made haste, approaching as casually as xe could, considering the heavy traveler’s bag on xer shoulders, and the sturdy cane xe walked with. It was the latter that caught people’s attention first, as it click click clicked against the stone path. Before long there were several pairs of eyes on the journalist, some of them bearing thinly veiled hostility, others filled with nervousness.

“Who are you?” A man growls, stepping in front of a woman (his daughter, based on similar features, age difference) as he does. One of his fingers jabs into xer chest, daring them to take another move, carrying an unspoken threat within it. For a few seconds xe simply smiles at the man. Somewhat amused, xe hoped that xer natural charm would win the day, despite a quick glance telling them that most of these strangers were armed.

“I’m a journalist-” xe started to say, until the others moved their hands towards their holsters- “or at least I was, once. But I come asking for assistance, kindness from my fellow humans,” xe said, gesturing widely with xer arms. This made the others present pause, though the journalist wasn’t immediately sure that xe hadn’t just misspoken. Romanian was not xer first language. Or xer second, come to think of it. Oddly enough, however, it had clicked rather quickly in xer brain, as if xe had always been meant to speak it. “You may call me Avaskian Caldwell. Or just Ava, or just Kian, or just Vas, depending on your mood. Ah, but that hardly matters. I am here… to find a woman. Someone I have heard much about, a, how do you say… ‘marvel’ of science? They tell me she is called ‘Miranda’. Have I come to the-” xe do not get to finish that sentence. Before xe can understand what’s happening, someone has grabbed xer by the throat, attempting to life xer into the air.

For once in xer life, xe’s glad for the ‘extra insulation’.

“Fuck you, outsider, you don’t deserve to taint her name with your foul tongue!” The man shouts, squeezing xer throat, urged on by the jeering crowd. A smarter person would have been rather concerned at that point. But the journalist- Ava, as xe said- was not known for xer cleverness. That did not, however, stop xer from exhibiting cleverness. Taking advantage of xer ridiculous arm joints (which may or may not be doubled, possibly merely weird as fuck), xe reached into xer bag, ignoring the crowd’s scared reaction, retrieving an evidence bag. Inside of it: several broken vials, each marked with a symbol of terror. This is not a place of honor the symbol screamed. To the villagers, it meant something else, something older. To Ava? It meant the prophet of death, it meant Umbrella.

“I come bearing the sign of your village. I come bearing the scars of your Goddess,” Ava proclaims, raising the bag into the air. As soon as xe does, xe is released, the man scrambling backwards. Others turn away, some leaving, a handful gathering to pray. ‘Twas an odd display, but one that Ava preferred over a public execution. Only one person dares to approach: A woman, likely mid thirties, with dark eyes and darker hair. There’s a clear caution in her movements, as if it was taking all of her courage to not flee. “Do you perhaps know how I may reach Miranda? I am in dire need of her knowledge.” At this, the woman flinches, though her gaze lingers on Ava’s throat. It’s then that the journalist realizes xer collar was undone, exposing xer strange, ever-bleeding wound. The stranger does not speak until xe has covered the deformity.

“One does not simply reach Mother Miranda. But there are ways to get her attention, to ask for a, hmm, blessing,” she explains. With a sigh of relief, Ava starts to celebrate, eager to find a cure for what ailed xer. But the woman wasn’t done speaking, and her next words cut a thick line through xer hope. “It may take a few weeks, maybe less, but we can ensure your prayers are heard. Mother Miranda always rewards the faithful. Even those who start out as outsiders. In the end, all are welcome here, if they keep the faith in our Mother.”

“No, no, that won’t do!” Ava snaps, far harsher than intended. The woman flinches again, and xe starts to pace back and forth, trying to release xer pent up energy. “There has to be another way. Faster, more direct. I don’t-... I might not have time to wait. Please, please, anything you can do to help, even if it’s just pointing me in the right direction…” A gulp, eyes shining with unshed tears, a quiver of the lower lip. Falsehoods alike, directed for an honest purpose. Miranda was xer only hope for information- and, perhaps, for salvation. But the latter had never been Ava’s true priority.

“There might be one way, but it is dangerous. You’d be more likely to die on the path than reach your goal, if I am honest. Yet… if there is anyone in all the village who can grant you the audience you seek, it would be one of the four lords. If you are certain-” the woman could only watch as Ava nodded furiously, silently begging- “so be it. Follow me, but do not say I did not warn you. I do not want your spirit coming to haunt me for my act of pity.”

—————————

“An unexpected guest? How… delightful. Do tell me why you even bothered to drag this miscreant before me, Cynthia?” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with a scowl, staring down at the fragile human in question. Of all the things she had expected to find, once her head servant called her, this was not one of them. An intruder would have been more likely. Perhaps even more fun, if Alcina felt like letting her daughters join in the resulting feast. But this ‘thing’ was hardly worth her time. They were short, although admittedly somewhat plump, with a scent that implied illness. For once, she could not pinpoint the exact disease by smell alone. Not that she cared, really. ‘Twas simply… interesting.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Avaskian Caldwell, and I come with an… offer. With mutual benefits, I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu,” the journalist answered, giving a deep bow. Despite xer manners, Alcina seemed unimpressed, even irritated by the display. Still, she gestured with her right hand, encouraging xer to get on with it. “I am in need of a meeting, specifically one with the much beloved, dearly respected Mother Miranda. In exchange, I offer two things: The sweat of my brow, and the blood in my veins.” Much to xer displeasure, Alcina replied with loud laughter before fixing xer with a hard stare.

“Pray tell, little thing, what makes you think I won’t simply take your blood now, hmm?” She muses, cackling again, ignoring the way her servant flinched at the sound. But Ava did not waiver, instead simply reaching into xer sleeve. Slowly xe pulled out something metallic, speaking firmly as xe did.

“For one, Mother Miranda would certainly dislike losing out on this opportunity,” xe started to say, unable to stop xerself from smirking. Then the knife fully exited xer sleeve, dancing in the light, before pressing against xer own throat. It was certainly a unique threat. Instantly Alcina rises to her feet, only pausing when she realizes that she wasn’t the one in danger. “Secondly, my blood is worth more if I am alive. You see, I have a wretched ‘condition’, which does a handful of lovely, lovely, life-threatening things to this poor vessel of mine. But someone as intelligent as yourself could find plenty of use for my so-called ‘illness’. If you give me a chance to explain, that is.” Though she does not sit back down, or even nod, it quickly becomes clear that Alcina did not intend to interrupt. Yet. “Grand, grand! I do appreciate it, my Lady. Now, let me just grab the research I brought with me…”

Never once lowering the knife from xer throat, Ava digs into xer bag, forced to briefly clip xer cane to xer belt. Then xe retrieves a closed manilla folder, carefully handing it to the giantess in front of xer. Wordlessly Alcina accepts the item, opening it to peruse its contents, only pausing to put on a pair of reading glasses. A minute of quiet passes before Ava continues xer explanation.

“I heal faster than anyone else on your staff, guaranteed. Hell, I cut my hand down in the village, on some damned wire, and the wound has already closed back up, good as new. That means, of course, that if someone were to let’s say… remove some of my blood, well, it wouldn’t take too long for me to get more, now would it? Obviously there has to be some biological counter, some form of payment for my ability. The rule of equivalent exchange, and all that, yes? As it stands… I eat an extra slice of bread a day. That’s it. Nothing bad enough to cancel out the boon of my blood. My… extensive reservoir of blood. Interesting, yes?” Ava says, still as charming as ever, despite the indescribable terror in xer chest. If there was one thing that xe had learned as a journalist, it was how to hide xer fear. Which was plenty useful, in the current situation, especially when Alcina flips a page to reveal the one downside to xer condition.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to try and deceive me. Here I was, beginning to think something of you, and you hand me a sheet that says it clear as candlelight: Your blood is dirty. Infected. I won’t be drinking it anytime soon, nor would I even consider allowing it to be used for my family’s wine!” Alcina is essentially yelling at this point. But Ava only takes a step forward, smile present but trembling, and gestures for her to turn the page. With narrowed eyes she does, quickly reading through the notes. Once, then a pause, then once more. Finally she closes the folder, setting it down upon her desk. “Fascinating. You are indeed a… unique case. I cannot guarantee you a meeting with Mother Miranda, and even if I do, it will be because of your condition. She will use you, as is her divine right to do, likely without ever once considering attempting to cure you. But if you are determined to meet her, well,” Alcina leans in with her own grin, sending chills down Ava’s spine, “I will not stop you. Here’s hoping you manage to give me plenty of blood before you ‘expire’. Cynthia, show her to the servants’ quarters. I expect her to be working by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Although Ava could not help but twitch at the Lady’s choice of pronouns, xe had expected this. Eventually xe would explain the indefinite nature of xer gender. Or perhaps xe was doomed to die a horrific, tragic death long before xe ever had the opportunity. Either way, xe could not help but feel a small sense of elation, pleased to have made some progress towards xer goal. Three steps forward and two steps back was still, cumulatively, a step forward. In time, xe would likely come to regret this series of choices. But who among us could say they held no regrets at all? And if, in the end, this storyteller came away with one hell of a story… wouldn’t that outweigh the regret? Even if Ava did not know it, xe would one day learn a valuable lesson from the strange family xe now worked for: Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Oh, and what a lovely covenant it would be.

[arhvste]

☼just until i win☼

WRITTEN CHAPTER - WILL CHECK SPELLING ERRORS LATER

an - i’m sorry but things reach their lowest here, grab your knives and get ready to aim at sakai <3

another big big thank you to @totorosleaff once again you’ve been a star and pulled through and helped make my smau so much better i love you wife 💞💖💕💗💘✨

-

oikawa shut his phone off and threw a black t-shirt and some jeans on. luckily he had training at 4pm so he still had time to clear up any miscommunications with sakai and hopefully stop his girlfriend from fretting.

swiping his keycard to his room to lock it on his way out, oikawa swifty made his way to the elevator and slipped out the front entrance. thanks to his choice of lowkey clothing, the setter looked like any other citizen just wandering the streets of tokyo. nobody was paying any mind to him as they went about their own business and let him walk past. he pulled out his phone as he checked the time.

the hotel he was accommodating at with his team wasn't too far from the streets he had agreed to meet sakai at outside the training grounds. he had 5 minutes to get there and he didn't intend on looking stupid and being late so he picked up the pace and walked a little faster to his destination.

-

oikawa arrived 3 minutes later and waited for the girl to arrive. curiosity got the best of him and he ended up pulling out his phone and scrolling through some of the tweets he was mentioned in claiming ridiculous accusations and false stories.

he was so immersed by his phone he didn't noticed the bleached pale blonde approach him.

“hi oikawa! it’s great to finally meet you!”

oikawa put his phone away and nodded at the girl.

“lets go somewhere a little more private.” he said and he pointed towards a more secluded area by a wall that cut the street off slightly.

“i thought the whole reason of us meeting was to stop whatever was going on between us not encourage it ~”

oikawa cringed and turned to glance at the girl who was typing away on her phone paying no mind to his cold stare.

“that's my point, there's nothing, never has been and never will be anything between us. the whole point of us meeting was for you to apologise for all the damage you’ve caused.”

sakai feigned a shocked expression as oikawa turned to face her once they reached the more secluded area.

“damage? oh please it was harmless.”

“harmless? you don't even know what you’ve done do you?”

was this girl for real?

“sorry sorry i just did what i needed to do, since the olympics became the talk of everyone it’s been hard to grab a modelling job. sure i’m well known in the industry but right now agents are looking at pro athletes to model and advertise for them as i suppose it’s a good way to get attention.” sakai explained as she finally put her phone away.

rolling his eyes oikawa stared down at the model.

“that’s not my problem. please stop associating with me you’ve caused a lot of stress and trouble with me and some others.”

“others? oh you mean your little girlfriend? that's partially your fault though, you should've told me you had a girlfriend and maybe things would've been different.”

“i shouldn't have to tell you about my business. i said no the first time you offered your proposition that should've been enough to tell you i wasn't interested in being associated with you.”

oikawa couldn't understand why this girl was being so difficult. the whole reason he’s agreed to meet up with her was for her to apologise in person but he was yet to receive it.

“are you gonna apologise or not? actually don’t bother, it’s not sincere coming from you this is a waste of time.”

sakai sighed and looked up at the athlete.

“no i am sorry i didn't mean any harm. at the same time though, this is your fault for not speaking up about your girlfriend. are you embarrassed by her or something? surely you’ve only been dating a week or something.”

every time this girl opened her mouth, oikawa had to hold back the urge to not uppercut her himself. she was impossible.

“it’s been over a year actually and the happiest year of my life at that. and as for not speaking up about her, i did so in order to protect her from psychos like you.”

“ouch, oikawa you’re meant to be charming no? it seems i’ve been deceived.”

“yeah, just like the media have been by your shitty stirring. look, just give it a rest please, i’ve got enough on my plate in fact i shouldn't even be here now. i was looking forward to coming back, being reunited with old friends and rivals and most importantly my girlfriend. i should be spending as much time as i can with her but no. right now i’m stood here listening to you chat utter shit.”

growing impatient oikawa decided it was probably best to leave it. there was no getting through to sakai she truly was impossible.

“you and your girlfriend are being a little selfish. oikawa listen to me, since we’ve been associated, we’ve been trending more than ever. isn't that great! just hold this up a little longer and then we can stop this but please i’ve been getting all the attention i should've been getting from the start!”

had everything he’d just said gone over her head?

oikawa scoffed and glared down at her through his glasses.

“it seems i have no other option. if you want to act like a simple minded child ill treat you like one. i’ll shut everything down on twitter and just have to publically expose you for what you really are; a liar.”

not bothering to wait for a response, oikawa went to turn to leave the premises and return to his hotel to think about what he was going to say.

not even a split second later a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

oikawa looked ahead of him and saw a stampede of cameras and mics charging their way towards the pair.

not given enough time to process what was going on sakai had him pushed up against the wall he had initially been using to shield himself from the media.

she gripped his shirt and pulled her face close to his before whispering quietly to him.

“yeah? and i’ll have to expose you for what you really are to your girlfriend, a cheat.”

and with that she forced a kiss onto oikawa giving the cameras the show they’d been dying for.

oikawa’s mind went blank and he felt light headed. surely this wasn't happening. he must be going crazy under the stress.

after a few seconds sakai pulled away and winked at the shocked boy as she waved her phone.

so that's why she’d been tapping away on her phone when they met up.

after giving one last sly smile, sakai took her leave with the reporters mindlessly following shouting a million questions at her as the girl bathed in all the new found attention.

oikawa didn't even have the words to call out and object.

he wiped his face and began to process what had just happened.

it couldn't have happened. he was delusional. or so he hoped.

oikawa pulled out his phone and countless notficcations flooded his lock screen as his heart dropped.

he felt sick to his stomach and refused to even try and read them.

unlocking his phone he immediately made his way to his favourite contact list praying that the person he trusted the most would answer.

the phone didn't even need to ring longer than 2 seconds before the line was picked up.

“oikawa, don't speak just listen. i’ve seen it already okay? don't move i’m coming to get you i’ve got you okay just stay calm.”

letting out a small sob, oikawa dropped to his knees as his thoughts began to overwhelm him.

“haijime, what the fuck have i done?”

-

just until i win

oikawa tooru x reader

masterlist

part 18 - stirring

part 19 - sakai

part 20 - iwa to the rescue

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[clockworkgraystairs]

You got me trippin | Jurdan one-shot

Rating: T

Summary: Cardan takes care of his girlfriend after she injures her ankle. Rain and cuddles, that's it. One-shot.

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @sweetlyvillainous​ @aesthetics-11​ @jurdanhell​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @nite0wl29​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ @b00kworm​ @mysweetvillain​ @thesirenwashere​

If you wish to be tagged or untagged pls let me know!

A massive thank you to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ for helping me beta-ing this and to her and @sweetlyvillainous​ for the encouragement to keep on writing!! 

Read on AO3 here!       My masterlist

“Jesus fucking Christ, be careful!!” She hissed for the second time glaring at him. He was currently focused on the bandage coiling around her ankle. He had been checking on it for the last ten minutes, adjusting and tightening the thing until she cursed and threatened to send him to sleep on the couch.

He chuckled. His stubborn Jude, always throwing daggers at people at the smallest inconvenience. Unfortunately for her, it only made him want to tease her even more. “Maybe if someone hadn’t been running around, she wouldn’t have sprained her ankle and we wouldn’t be here.”

“Ok first of all I wasn’t running around, those damned imps were chasing the cat and someone needed to stop them.” Jude groaned laying back on the couch. “Second of all, it wasn’t my fault that the floor was all wet because some god decided it was a nice moment to send a storm.” 

“Those imps as you call them are your students, love.” He said, finally leaving her poor limb alone and tugging it back under the fluffy blanket. “And that kitten was scared, you can’t really blame him.”

Cardan couldn’t help the grin that left his face as Jude squinted at said cat, now dry and comfortably sleeping on the opposite couch. Besides, he was no fool. The real reason she was so pissed had less to do with her kindergarten kids making a mess or his choice to take the animal with them, and more with the embarrassment of falling in front of the entire group. 

While he liked to keep his students inside reading fairy-tales or drawing, Jude preferred taking hers out to the front yard to do all kinds of activities. The children adored her, even when she was kind of scary sometimes. As for Cardan, he loved to watch her from the window. Her energy, her spirit. It was hypnotizing.

The day before though, a storm took Jude’s group by surprise in the middle of a class, forcing them to hide under a dome and wait for it to be over. It all happened too quickly. A thunder roared, making the windows tremble. A stray cat, visibly terrified, ran across the yard looking for shelter. Three children bolted behind it, yelling something Cardan couldn’t understand. In less than a second Jude had hurried behind them urging them to return. Somehow, she missed a hole on the ground that was covered by the rain. 

Even behind a window and the sound of the rain, his heart missed a beat as he faintly heard Jude’s scream as her foot twisted and she fell. He was only half-aware of his voice telling his students to remain on their seats before he ran out of the classroom.

The doctor had sent her home for the rest of the week since her ankle was significantly injured. Some scars and bruises ran up her left arm, as she’d landed on top of it.

So here he was, taking care of his grumpy girlfriend who seemed incapable of staying still for more than two minutes. Cardan started to get up when Jude stopped him by tugging his sleeve.

“Why don’t you call the school and say you’re ill?” She pouted. “You can’t leave me alone with that beast.”

“I’m sure you’ll be safe. If it tries to set the place on fire though, call me.” 

He had no intentions of returning back to the school, but the principal agreed to grant him a couple of days off to take care of Jude in exchange for helping him organize some documents they used for class. An easy task Cardan could finish at home. So he picked them up and returned to the apartment, just stopping a moment to buy some cookies Jude adored. 

By the time he parked the car back at home it had started to rain again, barely giving him time to get inside before getting all soaked. 

“Jude?” He called, taking off his wet coat and dropping it over a chair.

Cardan frowned at her lack of answer, walking to the living room and fighting to bite back a chuckle at the sight of her.

Curled adorably under the blanket and messy hair framing that face that filled him with so much peace, Jude rested in the same spot he’d left her, except she was now deeply asleep. The kitten tucked in the crook of her neck. So much for a wild beast, he thought.

Taking off his shoes and not bothering to turn on the lights, he slid into the narrow space between her back and the couch and held her tenderly. He cooed as he felt her shift, burying his nose in the wild curls. She was warm and the scent of her violet soap covered her skin. The raindrops hit the window in an almost rhythmic pace.  

After a few minutes Jude mumbled his name, barely awake. The cat protested as she turned her head to him. “I was ambushed by the monster.” He grinned at the grogginess in her voice.

“I can see that.” Trying to be as gentle as possible, he moved the little creature to the hollow spot between their feet where it immediately returned to sleep. Taking advantage of the free spot, Cardan caressed the skin of her neck with his nose. “Maybe I envy him just a little.”

She flashed him a teasing smile, fully turning so she could face him with still hooded eyes. He didn’t miss the small wince that crossed her face. “Do you now?”

He nodded before surveying her, frowning. “How are you feeling? Does it still hurt?”

Jude shrugged, “Only a little. It’ll pass.”

Cardan sighed, circling her with his arms again. “I’ll be here… Making sure you don’t attempt to follow another cat to the top of the building or something.”

She nudged him with a scoff. “Why don’t you make sure to tell your jokes when your throat is not at my hand’s reach?”

“Kinky.” he purred over her mouth, pressing their bodies tighter before taking her lower lip between his teeth, letting it go before she could deepen the kiss. “But as tempting as your hands around my neck might be, you need to rest.”

“I’ve been resting the whole day.” She whined, letting her head fall back on the pillow. Her eyes tell another story though, starting to close again.

Taking the blanket to cover them both, he cupped her cheek with a hand, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Now go to sleep, wife.”

“Wife, huh?” Jude breathed, her voice almost unintelligible  “You missed a step there.”

“Did I? My sleep deprived mind is probably playing tricks on me.”

She grinned a little but didn’t answer back, her breathing evened. 

Maybe he was just getting ahead of things. Or maybe not, since a small ring had spent already a month hidden on top of a shelf Jude couldn’t reach. Waiting. 

Cardan wasn’t so sure yet of what the right moment would be, he’d spent so much of his life surrounded by uncertainty. But looking at her in his arms, all disheveled and with pillow lines on her cheek, he knew there was no way he wished to be elsewhere. 

As rain thickened outside, he laid his head next to hers and caressed her cheek again, “Marry me, Jude Duarte.”

[farmhandler]

for your sake

Fandom: Demon Slayer/Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku/Tanjiro

Rating: T

Chapter: 5/6

Word count: 5 K

Summary: Rengoku is dying, but Zenitsu has an unorthodox idea that might be just what they need.

Warnings: Omegaverse, alpha!Tanjiro, omega!Rengoku, Trope inversion/subversion

A/N: I have not kept up with posting on here! I don't know that any of you care but here you go!!!!!!!

Read on AO3

---

If Tanjiro couldn’t get through to Rengoku directly, there was another way to reach him. That very evening, with Zenitsu’s comment on his mind, he visited the kitchens.

“Excuse me, do you think you could give an extra serving of this to Rengoku?” he asked one of the cooks—the one who doted on him more than the others. “I’ll pay for it.”

The cook glanced at him and then smiled knowingly. “You don’t need to pay for that. Of course I can bring your mate an extra serving.” She winked. “I’ll tell him it’s from you.”

“Thank you very much!”

Tanjiro had considered trying his hand at cooking, but he didn’t trust himself to consistently make food that would appeal to Rengoku. And food was the only means he had available. He reasoned the best way to accomplish this new task was to offer his services doing anything the helpers and cooks needed—if they could do just a little extra work for him.

In the days that followed, Tanjiro made sure that something reached Rengoku that Tanjiro had touched. He usually left it at something small and easy to acquire like an extra serving or a snack. A few times, though, he made use of his leftover sweet potatoes and with help had the dish delivered to Rengoku around dinnertime.

He was ill at ease with the way things were, but this kept the worst of his worries at bay. Being able to provide for Rengoku—even if all he did was send food over—fulfilled him more than he’d thought. The constant, burning flames inside him felt more under his control.

After a few days, the helpers even began to expect his requests.

“Another serving, right?” Aoi asked, clearly amused. She was on kitchen duty and intercepted Tanjiro by the door. “Careful, we accidentally burned food in one of the pots. There’s still smoke. I’ll make sure Rengoku gets more than his fill.”

“And can you let me see it before it’s sent off?”

Aoi looked at him like she wanted to say something about that, but she ended up sighing and nodded.

“Sure. I’ll also let him know you’re still around, since things are like this.”

“Thank you, Aoi. You’re really kind.”

She sputtered, then turned and walked back into the kitchen. “Yes, yes. Stay out of the kitchens for once!”

The one thing Tanjiro didn’t do was ask after Rengoku, no matter how much he desperately wanted to. He knew that if he heard too much about him, he would be too tempted to go find him. The fatigue and sickness already ate at him enough; it was to the point that he had temporarily stopped training. Seeing how well Rengoku had been the last they spoke, he hoped that the worst consequences were something only Tanjiro was experiencing, being the one who had given him the bite.

Support, he thought, lifting a bowl of meat buns he was going to hand off to a helper. He rubbed his hands along the edges of the bowl, spreading his scent, and then he touched a few of them to do the same. Support Rengoku. You get to see him when you see him.

“You know, it’s sweet, what you’re doing,” Aoi told him, after watching him carefully spread his scent among the buns. “Rengoku still doesn’t seem to be doing as well as we’d hoped, but he always eats the food you send to him.”

She paused, and Tanjiro could sense the unasked question.

“Rengoku has made it clear he doesn’t want to see me,” Tanjiro admitted, after a beat. “Most likely, he’s considering the ramifications of my actions and he decided this is what he wants. But,” Tanjiro continued, lifting the bowl of buns with a smile, “I can still attune him to me slowly like this. As long as he enjoys the food, I don’t mind.”

“And what about you?” Aoi asked. “I know why you’ve been sick.”

Tanjiro looked down at the buns. “I’m the eldest son,” he said. “And I’m an alpha. This is easy!”

He lifted his head and smiled.

“Would you mind taking this to Rengoku for me? I’d appreciate it!”

Aoi sighed and reached out with one hand.

Although Tanjiro put on a face of cheer, every day left him feeling more despondent than the last. Rengoku may not have rejected the food Tanjiro had sent his way, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he was being rejected overall.

Tanjiro had heard about what it was like for mates to reject each other. The stories never ended well.

He swiped his palm across his forehead. As was usual for this time of year, it was relatively cool outside, but he felt overheated.

Sometimes it feels like if I lose focus, or I stop my Total Concentration, Constant breathing, I’ll fall right over.

A scraping sound echoed at his left. He turned to see Nezuko crawl out of her box and stand at her full height.

“Good morning, Nezuko,” Tanjiro greeted, as cheerfully as he could manage. Tanjiro was seated at the edge of her bed. She stepped away from the box and came over to greet him by sitting down and clasping his hands in hers.

Good morning, Tanjiro, he could imagine her saying. If she removed the bamboo from her mouth, she could have spoken, but since its placement, she had never taken it off. Tanjiro suspected it was as much for her own sake as it was others. It was a reminder of what she had become, and how careful she needed to be.

Tanjiro glanced at the window. Dusk had settled into dark.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

She nodded and brought her fingers to the front of her mouth, tapping on the bamboo twice.

Hungry.

Because of the bamboo, Nezuko couldn’t speak. Yet despite that handicap, she had found ways to signal her own needs.

“I bet you are,” Tanjiro said sympathetically. “Sorry, Nezuko. I doubt humans taste good, anyway.”

At that, she shrugged, the a curious glint in her eyes. They rarely joked about what had become of her, and what she technically needed to eat. Tanjiro didn’t know what possessed him to do it now. He always assumed it would be a tough subject for her to acknowledge.

“Hey, Nezuko, I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, changing topics.

She made an inquiring sound.

“Do you remember how the others in town would always try to court you whenever you came down with me?”

Nezuko raised a brow. She nodded slowly.

“I know, it’s probably strange of me to ask suddenly. It’s just—would you mind listening to me for a bit?”

Nezuko shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes as if to say, do I do anything else but listen?

“Sorry.” Tanjiro chuckled. “It’s just… it’s about Rengoku.”

Nezuko scooted closer to him on the bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. She jostled him gently, a silent command to go on.

“I told you about everything that happened. About what we did to save him.” A nod. Tanjiro swallowed and folded his hands in his lap. “He doesn’t want to see me right now. Probably, everything that happened is finally catching up with him. He seemed unusually well-adjusted at the beginning, but now…”

Tanjiro exhaled and ran his hands over his pants.

“I don’t regret what I did. Rengoku is alive because of it. But it keeps eating at me all the same. I’m not sure why, exactly.” He sighed again. “I’m so tired, Nezuko. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this tired.”

Nezuko’s eyes widened imperceptibly. She lifted herself off the bed and sat further back. Then she patted her lap and gestured for Tanjiro to lay there.

“Maybe not that tired. I’m not a kid anymore,” Tanjiro said. “And I’m older than you.”

A sound of frustration came from Nezuko. She yanked on his arm, and because she was much stronger than him physically, he fell into a heap directly over her lap.

Tanjiro moved to rise, but Nezuko’s hand pushed into the back of his head, forcing him to settle down into the soft weight of her kimono. She smoothed her hand down back of his head, and he could practically hear the words he said so often echoed back at him.

There there, Tanjiro.

For some reason, tears stung at the space behind his eyelids.

“You know, Nezuko,” he said, settling into place, “after everything I’ve done, I’m not surprised Rengoku is avoiding me.”

He hesitated then, and Nezuko made an encouraging sound.

“It’s just… throughout all this, I’m constantly reminded of the way I acted when they first brought Rengoku home. I… I tried to attack people helping us. I told you about that, didn’t I? I was so embarrassed afterwards. And ashamed. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. I didn’t even—there wasn’t even a question there. I just… acted.”

Tanjiro’s fingers curled into a fist over Nezuko’s knee. There was a stray thread sticking out of the edge of her kimono, and Tanjiro stared at it.

“When Rengoku is around me, I feel—” safe, happy, at peace “—dangerous. I did something dangerous. Something horrible. But it saved Rengoku. And I’m…” Tanjiro chuckled weakly. “I’m happy about that. Is that horrible of me? Is that it?”

Nezuko’s hand on his head never faltered. She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“Sometimes I am ashamed, Nezuko,” Tanjiro admitted. “I like Rengoku. He’s kind, and strong, and he smells incredible. I’m ashamed because even though I feel like I’m a danger, I want to be around him. I have to be near him. And after everything that’s led up to this, with our family, and the train, and if—if I had just been there when our family was slaughtered, or when Rengoku—if I could have been stronger, and helped him more during his fight, he wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Tanjiro knew he sounded halfway incoherent. The words spilled from his mouth in a hurry, as though admitting them might finally make it all makes sense. He felt Nezuko’s hand stall at the top of his head. He didn’t expect her to know what to say as his little sister, and he hardly knew what he wanted to hear.

As the silence continued, he thought that would be the end of it, but then he heard her voice rise up from behind the bamboo.

She was humming.

Tanjiro instantly recognized the song. It was one of the songs their mother used to sing. If she was in middle of something, they might catch her humming it, the notes often fading into the background, yet irreplaceable in his memory.

Everything will be okay, their mother used to tell them. My children are strong.

The tears collecting behind Tanjiro's lids overflowed and trickled down his cheeks.

“Nezuko, if you keep doing that, I’m going to fall asleep,” he said, his voice wavering dangerously.

Nezuko kept humming, finishing the song and allowing Tanjiro to collect himself. Once he was no longer in danger of becoming a sobbing mess, he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder. Then her fingernails dug in, making him twist his body to look up at her, blinking away his tears.

He met her eyes as she stared at him. When she looked at him like this, with her fierce and unblinking gaze, it almost felt like he could hear her thoughts.

This isn’t like you.

“I guess I haven’t been feeling like myself,” Tanjiro said.

Nezuko huffed, gesturing for Tanjiro to give him both her hands. When he did, she flipped them so they were facing palm up. She took his right hand and drew a symbol with her fingers.

“…Past?”

Nezuko made a sound of agreement. She let go of that hand and did the same thing on his left hand.

“Future…?”

Drawing his gaze back to hers, Nezuko pushed down on his right hand and held up his left. She curled into a fist and shook it emphatically.

Future.

Tanjiro was suddenly thrown back in time. The words that Rengoku had spoken to him near death loudly rang through his head.

Go ahead and live with your head held high! No matter how devastated you may be by your own weakness or uselessness... set your heart ablaze. Grit your teeth and look straight ahead.

As long as you remain untethered by your past, you will succeed.

I’m an idiot, Tanjiro thought. How blind have I been that I’ve forgotten what Rengoku told me? Even if his death never came, those were his dying words. If he weren’t alive today I would be disrespecting his memory.

“Nezuko…” Tanjiro pushed himself up into a sitting position while Nezuko still held onto his fist. “You’re right. You’re right. What am I doing, lying here complaining about the past? This isn’t like me.”

He smiled at her. Nezuko’s eyes crinkled like she was smiling back.

“Thank you, Nezuko. Thank you for listening, and helping me remember.”

Tanjiro threw himself off the bed. The world tilted, but Tanjiro righted himself and lifted a triumphant fist into the air.

“Rengoku is alive! He’s my mate! Nothing we can do can change that now. I need to look forward.” He breathed in, imagining inhaling Rengoku’s scent.

“I need to see Rengoku.”

---

Nearly a full day passed after the conversation with Nezuko. Tanjiro intended to see Rengoku that very day, but shortly after spending most of his evening with Nezuko, he went to bed early after developing one of the fiercest migraines he’d ever experienced. It lasted all night and into the early morning, and Tanjiro only managed to get some sleep once one of the girls brought him a medicated solution.

The next thing he knew, Zenitsu was shaking him awake.

“Tanjiro! Tanjiro! Seriously, wake up! Do I need to slap you?!”

“Huh?” Tanjiro’s eyelids fluttered open; he immediately winced and squinted at the bright sunlight that seemed to find a way to beam directly into his brain. Thankfully, by that point his headache was mostly gone, but even though Zenitsu was jostling him, he felt like the thick fog that always hung over him had grown even thicker. His head lolled even as Zenitsu forced him into a sitting position. A glance at the window told him it was just past sunrise.

“Zenitsu, what are you… saying?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you! Rengoku collapsed!”

The words didn’t register at first.

“Rengoku? What about Rengoku?”

“He collapsed!” Zenitsu shrieked. “And what’s wrong with you? Does this have to do with your bond? Are you going to fall over? Because that’s what Rengoku did!”

“What?” The words finally made sense in his mind. He sat up straighter and gripped Zenitsu by his forearms. “Zenitsu, what did you just say?”

“Like I said, Rengoku collapsed. I was just passing by his room this morning. I could hear him talking to the helpers when all of a sudden I heard a thump, and they yelled out that he had fallen over.”

“What?”

Now wide awake, Tanjiro leapt out of bed with Zenitsu still clinging to his arm. It was a perfunctory attempt at comfort, and with the fog still hanging over him and the rush of panic at hearing Rengoku was unwell, Tanjiro reacted on instinct.

The growl that erupted out of him was a sound he hadn’t even known he was capable of making, not at a close friend.

In an instant, Zenitsu had let go of him and scrambled backwards, eyes saucer wide.

“I’m so sorry, Zenitsu!” Tanjiro hurried to say, ashamed. “I’m sorry. You came to wake me up and told me what was happening. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Zenitsu said. His voice shook, but he didn’t look overly upset. “I get it. You’re his mate, right? Of course you’re worried. I thought something like this would happen eventually. You both have been looking like such crap for a while now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… I mean he’s been sick, too, right? Whenever I saw him I could tell. He’s been sick, just like you’ve been sick.”

Tanjiro went stiff. This was the first time he’d heard how Rengoku was doing. The scent that he could barely detect on Zenitsu was too insignificant to get a reading. It had been that way for a while now; Tanjiro hadn’t sought out Rengoku, giving him space he needed, and he thought he’d been doing the right thing. But if he felt bad enough that he had collapsed…

Tanjiro, you idiot. You realized what you needed to do a day too late.

“Zenitsu,” Tanjiro said. A strange sense of calm fell over him. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Tanjiro—“

Tanjiro didn’t wait to hear what he had to say, and he didn’t bother getting dressed. Still wearing his pajamas, and with the tail end of a throbbing headache, Tanjiro ran out of the room, nearly colliding with the door on his way out.

Out in the hallway, running became sprinting. Since it was still early morning, it was relatively quiet, but to avoid running into any people—and because he didn’t fully trust himself not to accidentally growl at someone when he was still somewhat out of it—Tanjiro moved sidelong into the engawa surrounding the outer parts of the mansion.

Rengoku.

Rengoku.

Rengoku!

Tanjiro’s eyes burned. He was furious him with himself. Why couldn’t he do anything right? Rengoku didn’t want to see Tanjiro. Of course he didn’t. Tanjiro knew that. But even so, Tanjiro should’ve pushed more. He needed to push more.

If you’re going into this with halfhearted feelings and hopes of praise, it would have been better for him to die!

Tanjiro blinked away his upset and cut through one of the nearby rooms leading into the part of the building where Rengoku was. He knew he was close when Rengoku’s scent grew strong and thick.

He could smell the sickness in it.

Stupid stupid idiot Tanjiro.

He was panting by the time he made it there. He ignored the helpers standing outside speaking quietly and marched up to the door, throwing it wide open.

“Rengoku! I’m… I’m—” He was so out of breath he had to pause before speaking again. “I’m here to attune our bodies! I’m truly very sorry for this, but you don’t have any say in the matter!”

Tanjiro had squeezed his eyes shut against the weight of his own rude introduction. When there was no response, he opened his eyes and took in the scene before him.

Rengoku was asleep. His face was pale, and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. At the sound of his voice, Rengoku had rolled over, emitting a soft groan. Like a flower to the sun, his face tilted towards Tanjiro.

“Tanjiro,” one of the helpers greeted. Sumi, he recalled. “Thank goodness you’re here! The others were just looking for you. When Rengoku collapsed, we knew we couldn’t keep this going any longer…”

This close, the call to go to Rengoku’s side was intense. He fought against his every muscle in his body when he turned to look at Sumi.

“What you mean?” Tanjiro asked. His insides kept twisting, a sickening heat that built in his chest and stomach.

“It’s just… when we realized why Rengoku wasn’t getting better, Rengoku asked us not to mention anything to you about what was going on.”

“What…?” Tanjiro blinked. “Why? Why would he do that? Why would Rengoku…”

He trailed off. Hurt and anger swirled at the forefront of his mind. He was hurt because Rengoku felt the need to risk his health just to avoid Tanjiro. The anger was mostly with himself.

Tanjiro moved towards the foot of Rengoku’s bed. A force more powerful than any he’d ever felt urged him to move closer and sit at its edge, close enough that Tanjiro could touch him if he wanted to. He only held back because the girls were in the room with him.

“I think Rengoku didn’t want to burden you,” Sumi said eventually, her voice quiet.

“Burden?” Tanjiro echoed.

“Yes. You see, several Hashira came to visit.”

“I do remember that,” Tanjiro said. “What do the Hashira have to do with this?”

“It’s unusual because Hashira don’t usually visit each other after being injured. I think Rengoku was surprised they were doing that for him. They seemed interested in the bond that saved his life, and their attitudes weren’t, um, favorable towards you. I don’t know if that’s exactly what he was thinking, but that’s the sense I get.”

So that was why Tanjiro kept seeing and smelling the Hashiras. At this time he hadn’t given it much thought. The mansion was a common place for slayers to recover in.

“I see,” Tanjiro said. As she spoke, his anger had transformed, taking a different shape.

From the sounds of it, Hashira had exerted some kind of influence on the newly injured, newly bonded Rengoku. Rengoku wasn’t weak, neither of body nor mind, but he wasn’t usually this hurt and dealing with the consequences of being forcibly bound to another human being.

Tanjiro should have been there for him.

He always eats the food you send to him, Aoi had said.

Tanjiro grit his teeth. I’m so frustrated. Here I was, thinking I was doing something. I’m so naïve.

“Thank you for telling me, Sumi,” said. He smiled at her. “Would you mind leaving me with Rengoku? To help him heal, I need to be close with him, and I’d be a little embarrassed with an audience.”

“Oh!” Sumi’s cheeks went pink. “Right, of course! I’ll stand guard and turn away anyone who tries to come in.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

The moment she was gone, Tanjiro threw the covers off Rengoku and started stripping out of his pajamas. He left on his pants to save them both the inevitable embarrassment, and he didn’t undress Rengoku. Although he was about to scent him without permission, undressing him went too far—even if he thought he needed it.

Tanjiro didn’t know how he knew, but he knew this is what he needed to do. It was what they both needed.

Now bare chested, Tanjiro settled down in front of Rengoku lengthwise, scooting as close as he could. His mouth tingled at the thought of getting his lips and teeth on the bond mark. He held back, and working manually instead, Tanjiro rubbed his scent on the bond mark with his fingers. He did this several times, over and over, until he finally felt satisfied.

The whole time he did it, Tanjiro expected Rengoku to wake up. He had mentally prepared a speech in his mind, but other than snuffling in his sleep, he didn’t wake. It was somewhat worrying. If after all this Rengoku still wasn’t awake, Tanjiro would summon Lady Shinobu to examine him.

For now, he just hoped this was enough. That he was enough.

“Rengoku,” he whispered. He opened his mouth, inhaling, swallowing as much of his scent as he pleased. For once, no one was looking at him; no one could judge him for indulging.

Tanjiro inched closer, until he was able to sling one of his hands around Rengoku’s waist. Then he hooked one of his legs around the back of Rengoku’s. The closer they were, and the more skin he was able to touch, the better Tanjiro felt. The flames that burned on endlessly and the fog that had hung over him were slowly dissipating, bit by bit.

He pressed his nose into Rengoku’s collar, just above his nightshirt, and stayed there. Once he decided enough was enough, Tanjiro moved to Rengoku’s wrists. The scent glands there wafted invitingly at him. He lifted one on Rengoku’s hands and pressed his nose at the juncture of wrist and forearm, and then Tanjiro couldn’t help it; he pressed his mouth there, silently praying for forgiveness.

I just need to scent him like this. Just a little.

He breathed in, and breathed in, and breathed in, shivering in delight. After being deprived for so long, the urge to devour his scent was so overwhelming he thought he might cry. Tanjiro scraped his teeth overtop his scent gland, sending a fresh wave of Rengoku’s unique scent into his nose. A quiet moan left his mouth.

“What are you… doing?”

Rengoku’s voice broke Tanjiro out of his intense focus. He froze, realizing that while he had been scenting him, Rengoku had finally woken up.

“R-Rengoku,” Tanjiro stammered. Rengoku’s fascinating, brightly colored eye focused in on Tanjiro lazily. He looked exhausted, and he sounded tired, but he didn’t appear to be alarmed by what was happening. Other than give him space, Tanjiro didn’t completely pull away. “I’m sorry for waking you. You are probably very confused right now.”

“Yes, I am,” he slurred. A yawn broke through in the middle of his sentence. “What are you doing in my bed?”

“I’m… I’m scenting you. I’m very sorry about this, Rengoku. I didn’t want to do it this way, but you’ve been avoiding me. You collapsed!”

Rengoku’s eye slowly closed. “I suppose I have.”

“Why? Was it the Hashira? Did I do something to offend you?” he asked, his voice rising. “I know I’m just an alpha, but—”

A finger appeared in front of his lips, stopping him short. Rengoku’s brows were furrowed, the tense lines on his face deepening.

“Young Kamado, I have a terrible headache. Please keep your voice down.”

“I understand,” Tanjiro said, barely above a whisper. “Could you please answer my question?”

Rengoku sucked in a short breath and withdrew his hand. “Not exactly. Nothing you did was on purpose.”

Something like grief overcame Tanjiro. It was what he’d known all along, but it was the last thing he wanted to hear. He knew that being an alpha had caused others trouble throughout his life, but he’d always hoped that someday, when he found his mate, things would be different.

“I’m sorry,” Tanjiro said. “I’m very sorry. Rengoku, once we’re feeling better, we’ll find a way to fix this.”

“Tanjiro,” Rengoku said, and the sound of his given name was like a jolt of electricity laid into him from Zenitsu’s sword. “Who told you about the sweet potatoes?”

“Eh…ah, Lady Shinobu,” Tanjiro answered slowly.

“Kocho. I see. I see,” he repeated. Rengoku went silent after that, and Tanjiro realized shortly after he’d begun to doze.

“Rengoku?” Tanjiro inquired, prodding him with one finger. His eyes slid briefly open. He frowned in irritation, and a moment later he shivered and curled against Tanjiro’s chest. “R-Rengoku?”

Rengoku didn’t respond.

He really must have been exhausted, he thought. I’m sorry, Rengoku. How you must have suffered!

Gingerly, Tanjiro moved his arms out of the awkward position they’d been forced into, careful not to wake Rengoku again. He slid one arm around his waist and the other he brought up between them, pressing his palm against his heart.

Tanjiro closed his eyes and matched his breathing to Rengoku’s. In, out. In, out.

Rengoku wasn’t the only one exhausted. Tanjiro had been holding on as best he could, but lying there, warm, surrounded in the scent of his mate, he was lured into a similar state of half sleep. He let his eyes fall shut.

When he opened them again, the bond mark was in his line of sight, inches away. Its unique scent wafted enticingly over to Tanjiro. It hurt how it barely carried Tanjiro’s scent at all.

He swallowed as his mouth watered uncontrollably. Then he swallowed again.

His head moved forward on its own, and Tanjiro carried it to rest of the way. He pressed his nose into the space just below the bond mark. He moaned low in pure, blissful content. As he drifted over the marred skin, Rengoku’s scent began to gain in strength. That, or maybe it was just that Tanjiro kept breathing it in. He breathed in deep, deeper still, until his chest trembled and his scent became the center of his awareness.

His mouth drifted close to the edge of the bondmark. Eventually he brushed his lips overtop the skin there.

He let out another quiet, happy groan. His lips were tingling. Digging his fingers into the front of Rengoku’s nightshirt, Tanjiro tugged in a vain effort to pull Rengoku closer than he already was while he mouthed at the bondmark, spreading his scent with his lips and tongue until it was bathed in it.

Mine, he thought deliriously. Mine.

Realizing the direction his thoughts were taking, Tanjiro pulled away to try and breathe in the night air, but it was no use; Rengoku’s scent was all around him and inside him. He couldn’t escape it, and in all honesty—he didn’t want to.

Later Tanjiro could feel properly chastened. In that moment, all he wanted to do was be with his mate.

[cloudywriter]

Okay, hear me out... A Nessian carnival situation?

first, i need more prompts, send whatever & alright this one took me a sec but then i got into and i’m pretty happy with it. sorry, it’s such a long built up but it’ll come. pretty swift nessian fix here ya go:

~~~

A Tale of Questionable Carnival Rides

~~~

Nesta huffed, checked the time on her phone again, and rolled her eyes. It was only 9:32pm now and the endless stream of kids and parents was still steadily flowing and likely would be for another hour or so. 

Nesta checked again. 9:33pm. 

It wasn’t that she hated the annual carnival fundraiser for the school, she liked planning it and making sure everything ran smoothly, being student council president that’s usually what her job description was. But not this year, no, this year Nesta was in charge of running one of the mini-game stands as Clare, who was supposed to be managing it, came down with the flu.

To say the least, Nesta did not enjoy dealing with groups of screaming children and their hovering parents. Honestly, she’d rather slam her hand into a car door than spend another hour watching kids fail to knock down three pins then become upset because they don’t get a prize for losing. 

She was able to handle the first couple of kids that shed some tears and the few parents that wanted a pity prize, but as the night wore on her patience began to run thin.

A young blonde boy, maybe eight or nine years old, was now making his way up to Nesta’s booth followed by presumably his mother. 

Nesta gave her the same, plastered-on smile she’d been giving all night to the woman approaching. 

“Hi, three balls please,” the mother said sweetly, handing a five-dollar bill to Nesta over the table.

Nesta gave her a small nod and plucked three red balls from the bucket beside her, handing one to the little boy.

“Alright, all you have to do is knock down all three pins and you’ll get a prize,” she stated her usual rehearsed line. 

Of course, the little boy missed his first shot, his aim a little too low, Nesta passed him a second ball in response. Once again, his ball missed its mark and the boy let out a little sound of frustration.

“It’s okay, you’ve got one more shot,” Nesta explained before setting the final ball before him. 

The boy swiped up the plastic, red orb and weighed it in his hand. He turned his attention back to the three pins still sitting untouched atop the table adorned with a red and orange plaid, fall-appropriate cloth; he chucked the ball, grazing the top pin enough to knock it off. 

“I did it! I did it!” The boy cried punching the air in triumph. 

“Hey, I’m sorry, but you actually have to knock down all three to win,” Nesta frowned, feeling a little sympathetic for the kid. 

“That’s crap!” He shouted. Nesta shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, “I’m sorry, that’s just the rules.” 

The mother’s mouth was set in a thin line as she rested her hand on his arm. “C’mon honey, maybe you’ll have better luck at ring toss?” She offered. However, he looked up at her unimpressed, “No! This booth is the only one with the dragon stuffed animal! I got the top pin!”

The mother’s eyes flitted back up to Nesta. “Can you just give him the dragon? I mean he did hit one and I already gave you money, I’m sure that dragon is cheaper than five dollars.”

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t think I can do that,” Nesta reiterated. 

The mother huffed, obviously getting upset now and started digging around in her purse. She slapped down another five-dollar bill in front of Nesta, “There? Is that enough? Just give him the damn toy.”

Nesta was a little torn on how to handle the situation, the last bit of patience she possessed slowly disintegrating. “Look, I can give you another three balls for you to try again but I can’t just give out the prizes for some money.” 

The mother rolled her eyes, slamming her hand down by her side; “He’s just a kid, he’s not going to hit all of the pins and don’t try to tell me that dragon is worth more than a few bucks. This is just a high school fundraiser, save me the trouble and give my kid the damn prize.”

The son looked up at his mother with a pout.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry to hear that your son has no hand-eye coordination but frankly it’s not my problem. If you want to try and pay your way through another game I’d suggest the bean bag toss, my sister Elain is a softy.” Nesta gave her a sickly sweet smile and crossed her arms over her chest.

At that, the woman’s face turned a tint of red. “Okay, who is running this? I’d like to speak to one of your teachers or the principal, you’re being extremely rude.”

“I’m being rude? Lady, I’m just trying to get in my community service hours.”

The woman’s nostrils flared and Nesta could tell she was about to crack, she started to speak her voice significantly raised. “Alright, missy-”

“Whoa, hey, what is going on here?” Another voice chimed in.

Nesta groaned, her head turning to face the student council vice president who had now joined the interaction. 

“Are you running this thing? This girl has been astonishingly ill-mannered,” the woman began. Cassian held up his hand, “I am not the one in charge, unfortunately, you’re actually looking at the boss right now.” 

The woman gave Nesta another scowl, snatched up the five-dollar bill that still rested on the table, and grabbed her son’s hand dragging him off into the crowd. Cassian didn’t turn to leave though, “I’m actually surprised you didn’t get into a fight with a crazy mom earlier. I almost left your general vicinity thinking I wouldn’t have to break up anything, good thing I didn’t.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and uncrossed her arms, letting them rest at her side again. “My hero,” she added sarcastically. 

Cassian smiled. “C’mon, sweetheart, why don’t we go for a little cooldown ferris wheel ride.” 

“Really?” Nesta asked, gesturing with her head towards the sad scrap of chipped brightly painted metal that was the ‘ferris wheel’ the school decided to splurge on and rent out. “You’d get in a cart and the whole thing would topple over.”

Cassian only shook his head. “Nah, c’mon, Archeron. What, are you scared of heights?”

“Yes, I’m deathly afraid of being lifted twenty feet into the air, Cassian.”

Cassian didn’t respond, just held out his arm. Nesta sighed, deciding she’d rather risk her life on a very janky carnival ride than work that damn game. She slipped out from behind the tables and looped her arm through Cassian’s, “I hope you know you’re paying whatever ridiculous rate they have going.”

“I suspected as much,” he answered, pulling her across the high school parking lot which had been transformed into the makeshift carnival. 

They stood together in the small line and Nesta closed her eyes, tipping her head back breathing in the scent of corn dogs and funnel cakes deeply. The student letting kids on and off the ride collected Cassian’s money and they stepped into their cart. It did audibly creak as Cassian and all his muscles took up residence, Nesta settled in across from him. 

“How have you enjoyed working a booth? Think next year you’ll decide to do it again rather than running around making sure everything’s working out?” Cassian asked, stretching his arms behind him.

“I think if I get stuck handing kids balls to throw at pins or something like that again I will abdicate my throne.”

Cassian raised his brow. “It can’t be that bad.”

Nesta shrugged. “Why do you care? You’re probably thinking up a scheme to make sure I end up on game duty again so you can have my presidential status.”

“Nah, I’m not after your position I swear. I don’t even like being vice president.” 

Now it was Nesta’s turn to raise a brow. “Then why do you keep doing it?”

Cassian hesitated a moment. “It’s the only way I get to spend time with you,” he confessed. 

“You’re telling me for two years you’ve run for vice president so you could hang out with me?” Nesta asked, disbelief coating her tone.

Cassian nodded. 

“You took on the extra burden of full hour meetings twice a week before school, put in countless hours of budgeting, fundraising, making posters, all that jazz just to spend time with me?” 

Cassian nodded again looking as if he were trying much too hard to stay cool and calm. “Romantic, isn’t it?” He smirked like he was ready for Nesta to melt into his arms.

“No, that’s so fucking stupid,” Nesta crossed her arms.

Only then did Cassian’s built up nonchalant aura falter. “W-what?”

“Yeah dumbass, you literally could have just asked me out.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever say yes,” now Cassian was leaning forward, his face exuding a plethora of emotions. 

Nesta leaned forward, her face only a few inches from Cassian’s own. 

“I would’ve said yes,” she almost whispered. Cassian’s eyes searched Nesta’s face for any sign that she was playing a cruel joke, he found none. “Nesta?” he asked softly. 

“Mhm?”

“Would you really go out with me?” His eyes were wide and hopeful, the innocence of it all made Nesta smile. Especially knowing how much of a goofball Cassian was, it was different seeing him so genuine and unguarded. 

“I really would,” she answered at last. She and Cassian just stared at each other for a moment, the corners of their lips upturned. 

“Nes?” Cassian’s voice broke. Nesta raised her eyebrows slightly, encouraging him to continue. “Is it okay if I give you my letter of resignation on the date, too?” 

Nesta let out a small giggle and rested her forehead against his. “You’re such a doof.”

~~~

alright, well i hope you liked it! also thank you guys so much for all the love on my last nessian prompt fic, usually, i only get like 15-20 notes a post so all the attention that one got made me really happy. also, i promise i'm still working on my other stories!

[zuffer-weird-girl]

"Is the third time only this month that brat does this..." has growled before placing Kin back on her crib after Kaito tried again to sending her away.

This time the brat just got out of the street and dared to stop a officer on the street, lifting his sister in his arms and with a stoic face ask if they wanted a baby.

You let out a hopeless sigh before shaking a bit the crib, smilling in relief at seing that your baby girl, different from Kaito, was the most quiet and easy to sleep baby you ever saw.

"Just give him a bit more time Kai, I'm sure he is going to get used to her soon... I hope."

He looked at you dead in the eyes, arching on eyebrow up.

"Angel. Kin has eight months already. Eight months." He pointed at outside of the room "And the rascal still tried to send her away."

You made a worried face, letting go of the crib when you noticed that Kin had fell asleep.

"... apologies." He latted yoir head gently "Maybe I was too-"

"No no. Relax." You giggled, adoring the way his hand felt on your head "I guess is just going to take a bit longer for Kaito to get used to his sister then..."

"It better be quick. I'm tired of explaining my self to mails and police this whole thing."

~

He arched one eyebrow at the numb and glommy look his son carried while he poked with his eating uttensiles the food in front of him.

Ever since his last attempt of getting rid of Kin he is been like this, and he was starting to grow afraid that his brat had gotten ill.

You walked in with a giggling Kin in your arms, cooing while holding your cheeks together, making you look like a fish, while you made goofy faces at her.

The tight grip Kaito had on his hashi wasn't unnoticed by Kai.

"Hey daddy?" You called, breaking his attention to look up at you two "Kin wants to see your beautiful face~"

He scoffed at that, rolling his eyes but still lowering his mask and looking at Kin dead in the eye. The girl cooed and clapped her tiny chubby hands while her golden eyes shined in glee at seing her daddy's face.

"Such a simple and dumb action that can caught her interest like that?" He muttered before bringing it up his mask.

Kaito suddenly scoffed and got out from the table, leaving everthing he was suppose to eat behind. Making you and kai exchange glances before he got up and called his son sternly.

"Chisaki Kaito come back here this instant."

"I'm not hungry." The kid mumbled, still walking.

"Kaito." Kai growled threateningly, ignoring your hand on his shoulder and words for him to calm down "Get back here. Right now."

The kid stopped, tiny hands turned into shaking fists as he muttered some words neither you or Kai could catch.

"What?" Kai said coldly before Kaito sended one teary yet angry look at his father.

"You two have her so why should I stay in the first place?" He said monotonously before running to his room, hitting the door slightly.

"Of course..." you sighed, Kin made a confused and sad noise at your face while Kai just stayed intact. "I should have know." Kai looked at you with one eyebrow lifted up.

"Hon he is jealous of Kin." You said quickly before he scoffed, already walking towards his son's room. "Kai c'mon don't start another argument.."

"I'm not. But I thought I raised this brat better than this." He scoffed before wrapping his hand on the door handle, noticing that his son had locked it.

"Kaito stop with this and open the door." He growled, receiving a faint 'go away' from teh other side "Get out of there or I will break this door open."

He felt you poking his shoulder and sended you a glare.

"I might be wrong but-" you said in oure sarcasm "This is not the exactly BEST way of getting into a upset child's room." He deadpanned when his daughter made what sounded like a agreement sound.

"Well." He showed his palm at the door "Be my guest then dearest."

You arched a eyebrow at him before handing Kin to him. Not noticing how he got tense and averted his eyes from his daughter a bit...

"Sweety?" You knocked the door "Please let us in?"

"No." Thsi one was more soft than the others and your heart break at the sniffle you heard.

"Kaito, if something is wrong then we need to talk to sorta things out. Please open the door for me and daddy?"

"...I don't want to talk."

You sighed, ignoring the smug look Chisaki sended to you before an idea popped into your head.

"So you're just going to stay there until when?"

"Until... until..." you wanted to break that door the moment you heard a weak sob from the other side.

"My soldier. Me and daddy only want to help." Chisaki made a confused noise before you shushed him "But you know that he can overhaul this door... so please just open honey? For me and him?"

You sighed in relief when you heard the click sound while Chisaki handed Kin back to you immediately. Pushing the door open you saw Kaito sitting on his bed as he rubbed his face with his forearm, parted legs as his hand fisted the material of his pants.

"So?" Chisaki crossed his arms, looking down at his son with his stoic face "Explain-"

"Is about Kin. We know." You interrupted, your husband glaring at you for that "But what exactly is bothering you sweety?"

"Her." He whispered "One more it means less, and you and daddy just stop everthing you do to go to her and see what she wants." He sniffled.

"Because she is a infant." Chisaki interrupted "On her stature and age is necessary." He said in a manner of fact tone.

Kaito suddenly sobbed a bit more loud, now with both hands fisting the sheets of his bed.

"Kaito." You cooed while sitting next to him, a firm grip on your daughter but still went to trade your fingers through his hair.

"Neither of you will care about me anymore! You don't do now do you?!" Kaito sobbed harshly, but still not dodging away from your touch.

"... for crying out loud." Your husband growled, and even before you could send a glare he took a sit on the other side of his son and took your hand out of his head to just drop quite harshly his own, making the kid yelp even.

Kaito glared at his father, teeth cringing together but the river of tears didn't stopped either as Kai only stared numbly down.

"Your sister needs the special treatment because she is way younger than you." He pointed with his palm at Kin fisting the hem of your shirt. "She struggles with saying simple words and even walk. So that's why me and your mother stay more allert with her."

Kaito scoffed, looking down with a frown before your gentle hand lifted a bit his chin up to look at you.

"That doesn't mean neither of us love more or less one than the other honey." You rubbed your thumb on his chin while Kai started to carres his son's hair. "Never we would do that. The same Kin is receiving now, you once received as a baby."

"... but.." his eyes came back to being the usual stoic ones while he pouted a bit with furrowed eyebrows.

"Brat. The same we feel about Kin we do about you. No questions or objections." He messed with Kaito's hair a bit before retreading his hand back "Both are brats. But our brats."

"I never heard you calling her like that." Kaito said suddenly while Kai arched a eyebrow and you let out a disbelieved giggle.

"You're serious? Daddy is always calling both you and Kin brats. No matter what I do!"

"That so..." Kaito mumbled, looking down at the ground.

"... Kin, you and your mother are simply the only ever people that brought me such a thing called joy and the real concept of a family Kaito." Chisaki spoked in a serious tone, catching his son interest.

"Your first word was my title as a father, and I genuinely teared up." He flipped Kaito's forehead, making the kid yelp "This is how important you are. The only persons that ever made me cry were you three and only."

Kaito widened his eyes in shock, looking up at you and pointing at his dad.

"Daddy cried?!" You nodded while Chisaki growled, not liking to hear that more than once. Kaito looked down at his hands before sighing "I'm so stupid... I promised you both that I would be a good brother yet I did those things... I'm sorry."

You gave him a raspberry on his cheek, finally heari g taht laugh again.

"Is normal feeling jealous of a sibling. But what is not good is trying sending them to Alaska." You laughes in nervousness while Kaito lowered his head.

"I'm sorry... what can I do to... fix what I did?" He felt his father's gloved hand push his head a bit to look up and slided to grab his shoulder, while the other showed Kin smilling and making grabby hands at Kaito.

"Starts to care and not hate your sister would be a good way to fix your mess." Kaito looked uo at his father before hesitantly looking at his sister's golden eyes.

"She might hate me."

"Hmm I guess not." You placed Kin to the bedsheets in a sitting position "She is very giggly when she is around you."

"Is she?" He asked, still looking at his sister.

"The brat only smiled once because you were in the room." Kai said nonchantly glaring a bit at the little girl while you laughed.

Kaito awkwardly and hesitantly got closer and looked up at you, receiving a encouraging nod, before he grabbed her underneath her shoulders and brought her closer.

"Hey... I'm... sorry?" Kaito said awkwardly "I promise to not be a bad older brother anymore... at least I will try. But I am the first and also dad and especially mom's favorite, so have that on your mind." Kai went to scold him before the little girl laughed and cooed while touching her hand on the tip of her brother's nose.

Kaito stayed immobile. Frozen. You and Kai shared another look before Kai poked him in the shoulder.

"Brat?"

"... I love her." He said nonchantly but his (E/c) eyes shined in glee as the girl kicked a bit her legs while Kaito holded her up "She is weird. But is a good weird."

You snorted, thinking thhat in that moment Kaito never looked more than his father than there while Kai just smirked a bit in hopeless.

"It took less than 15 minutes. After eight months." You giggled while he went to give you a kiss before Kaito interrupted.

"See? This is gross Kin. We need to stop them when they do this. Is disgusting."

"Oh HELL no." Kai growled while you almost died of laughter.

Two brats interrupting him and his wife? FUCK NO.

[datenightfright]

Infamous

This story is dedicated to Oiwa. Thank you for allowing me to share your story, may you one day find peace.

Previous/Next

Pairing: Kayako Saeki x WOC Reader

Warnings!!!: None for this chapter. 

Thank you to @mlmdarkfiction and @doodleferp as always for you encouragement and your willingness to let me ramble. I appreciate you guys so much. 

The detectives in front of you looked as nervous as you felt. You exuded what you hoped was a calm, if very bewildered demeanor. You bounced your fussy daughter in your arms, wondering why the hell they could be there. 

That was a lie, you weren’t wondering, you had a very good idea as to why they were there. Yesterday, you finished moving into the Infamous Saeki house. Your husband, in an uncharacteristic show of violence, tried to choke you to death. You didn’t know if it was because of the curse, of the house itself, or if it had just been him finally snapping. You wanted to blame it on the house, you really did, but from everything you read, the curse took it’s time manifesting. Something deep within you told you that had all been Haru, no matter how much you didn’t want to admit it. 

Before he could manage to kill you, Kayako had come to your rescue. She had done...something with Haru. You weren’t sure, you didn’t want to think about what horrors he had faced. Besides, you’d been too focused on your daughter. You wanted Kayako to spare your daughter, but apparently she’d spared both of you...for now. 

You had passed out from fear, thinking Kayako was going to kill you next, but that morning you’d woken in your western styled bed, comfortably tucked into the blankets, as though nothing had happened. Your daughter had been sleeping peacefully in her crib, which was why, for a long, long moment, you thought everything had been a dream. 

You gathered Sakura in your arms, the little child not stirring from her own peaceful slumber. “Haru?” You whisper, terrified of the reaction. Your throat was killing you. Maybe you were getting sick and what you dreamt had nothing more to do with a cursed house than a really high fever. “Haru?” You called, a little louder this time, emboldened by thoughts of sickness rather than haunting. 

You made your way down the stairs. The smell of cooked rice and miso soup hits you. He was in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. When you first started dating Haru, he cooked for you all the time. You smiled at the memory and rushed the rest of the way downstairs, wanting to give him a kiss good morning. You stopped in your tracks when you saw who it really was. 

Kayako was standing to the right side of the head of the table, Toshio was sitting in the left chair. Both were looking at you expectantly. At the head of the table you could just make out a traditional Japanese breakfast. Rise, Miso soup, and a side of vegetables and tofu. You gulped, even though it pained you to do so. So this was how you were going to die, Kayako was going to poison you. Was that how ghosts killed people though? Poison? The thought was brief. Kayako gave off her signature rattle and pointed to the chair. You thought it was best not to upset her, so you shuffled your way over and sat down. 

You somehow managed to eat everything. Mostly out of fear. So far, no ill effects had befallen you. 

After breakfast, you fed Sakura from her bottle, not trusting Kayako to have not poisoned your food. After breakfast was done, Kayako surprised you by doing the dishes. You sat on the couch, wondering what you were going to do. Your husband was dead, now you had no source of steady income. Not to mention, you didn’t exactly know how to explain his death to his parents. “Hey, yeah, you know that haunted house we moved into, well for once it’s actually haunted and the long dead ghost of Kayako killed him while he was choking me out.” That would land you in the looney bin for sure. Or jail, you were sure no one would believe your story.

You spent most of your day fretting over this problem. Your mother-in-law, who already hates you for being the non-white American that took her husband away, would pin his murder on you in a heartbeat. She would take your daughter. 

While you were spiraling closer and closer to pits of despair, the police had been on the prowl, and now, two detectives were in your house, apparently with some ‘news’. They know, you think, trying to maintain your composure, somehow they already know Haru is dead and they’re going to pin it on me. You watch as a team begins to search your house for evidence. What bones would they find in the attic, you wonder? 

“Mrs. Kubo,” The first detective says, he had introduced himself earlier as Tanaka, his partner, who held a notebook, was Fujiwara. “How long has your husband been missing?” You gulp, think of something fast, “Since last afternoon,” You reply, wondering what game they’re trying to play. “He said he was going to drink with some old friends. I thought maybe he stayed out too late and stayed over at their house, or a hotel, I...I don’t know how late bars are open until in Japan.” It was a half truth obviously. You really didn’t know how late bars are open in Japan. 

The detectives share a look, then Tanaka looks at you, looking graver than when he first walked in. “Have you been outside at all today?” You shake your head, trying to be as honest as possible. “I haven’t been feeling well.” You tell them, the hoarseness in your voice attested to that. The detective managed to look graver still. “Mrs. Kubo, I don’t know how to tell you this but,” In the pause you steel yourself for the news, you’re under arrest for the disappearance of your husband, we’re taking your baby, you’ll never see her again, in fact, you’ll never see daylight again. “Your husband was murdered yesterday,”

This time, the detectives got your honest reaction, shock. “What? How?” 

“He was beaten to death by someone with tremendous strength.” Tanaka informs you. “Did he have any enemies? Anyone who seemed to hate him?”

“Or possibly an over zealous fan?” Fujiwara chimed in. You shake your head, “I can’t think of anyone,” You say, “He never really talked to me about his work, or his fans.” The detectives looked at each other once more. “Do you mind if we have a look around the property?” Tanaka asked, “Not at all,” You say, shrugging. You couldn’t tell them no, that would look suspicious on your part. Besides, the rest of their team was already looking, rifling through papers and drawers. There’s nothing there, you think, you hope, please let nothing be there.

You watch as the detectives leave you on the couch to begin the investigation. Following them with your eyes you wonder what the hell you’re going to do. What if they find evidence you did it? What if they pin it on you anyway. What the hell were you supposed to do now? You sigh and slump into the couch. There was nothing you could do, really, except aid them as much as you can in their search for the truth. You really had nothing to hide, you weren’t the one that killed him, Kayako was. 

A mass of black moves out of the corner of your eye. You see Kayako watching everyone in the reflection of a window. She’s the one that did it! You want to scream, she’s the one that killed my husband! Take her, arrest her. You sigh again. Yes, arrest a ghost no one believed exists. What the fuck were you gonna do? 

The police leave no stone unturned. They’re stiff, jittery. An air of dread hangs around the house,even more so than usual. Everyone sends meaningful looks at one another, jumping at the slightest of sounds. If you didn’t know this house was really haunted, you’d laugh at them and their silly superstitions. Instead, you remain on the couch, unsure of what to do, not wanting to get in anyone’s way. You keep Sakura entertained with funny faces and toys. Whenever someone came into the living room, they would smile at her, and she would giggle. Other than that, you talked to no one. 

The detectives eventually make their way back to you, looking as perplexed as you felt. You stand to greet them. “Everything looks to be in order.” Tanaka tells you. “No suspicious activity around the house.” You give him a little bow. “Do you really think it was over zealous fans?” You ask, more curious if their theory involves you more than actual curiosity. Tanaka heaves a great sigh. “It’s certainly a possibility,” He says, “It could’ve been many things, Mrs. Kubo. Many people. He had a great deal of admirers, and enemies.”

“Enemies?” You gasp, brow furrowing. “What do you mean by that?” Tanaka looks at you intently. “Aren’t you aware of his rivalry with Professor Yuki Nakamura?” You bit your lip, ashamed. “No, sir. Like I said, my husband didn’t really talk about his work.” 

“I find that hard to believe,” Tanaka said. “You traveled with him, and he always dedicated his books to you.” You nod, “Yes, I did,” you admit, “But I only ever read his material to edit it. Other than that, we never talked about work. It was his rule, you see. He didn’t want his work life bleeding too much into his personal life. I’m sorry Detective Tanaka, I have no idea this Professor Yuki Nakamura is.” He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a business card. “This is my contact number,” He tells you. You take it with a shaky hand. “If you can think of anything, or anyone. Please, call me.”

“Yes sir,” You say, “Immediately.” They bow, you bow, and everyone begins filing out of your home. You thank every one of them for helping with the investigation. Finally, when the door is close, and you’re all alone, you let out a great sigh. Things seemed to be ok...for now. 

You turn, wanting little more than to take a nap. But the shock of Kayako standing right in front of you startles you so badly you nearly drop your daughter. You two stare at each other. You, not really knowing what to do, or to say, her just...staring, you guessed. It occurs to you moments later as to what she’s probably expecting. “Th-thank you,” You tell her, inching around her. “Thank you for helping me,” The moment you’re clear, you dash for the stairs, Kayako watching you the entire time. 

*

“She did it,” Fujiwara exclaims. He looks sheepish at the sight of Tanaka’s glare. “Well, she had someone else do it,” he amends. “There’s no way a small thing like that could cause so much bodily damage. So she hired someone to do it. A jealous lover maybe.” Tanaka huffs. “What makes you so sure?” 

“She didn’t cry.” Fujiwara continued, “She just sat there, playing with her baby.” 

“She was in shock,” Tanaka tells him, his tone harsh. “Not every woman falls to their knees and weeps at the news of their husbands’ deaths.”

“But you have to admit, something is strange.”

“Is there?”

“Isn’t there?” They sat in silence for a while. “Did you see her neck?” Fujiwara said. “I did.”

“It looked like someone tried to strangle her.” Tanaka nodded. “Do you think Haru Kubo was abusing her?” 

“Could be,” Tanaka turned onto the main road and sped towards the station. “That doesn’t mean she did it. Or hired someone to do it. They could have violent sex” Fujiwara’s face scrunches up. He hadn’t been on the force long enough to see anything like that yet, Tanaka had to forgive him for his squeamishness. 

“But it is motive.” Fujiwara continues. “Do you think maybe Yuki was in on it? They somehow got in contact with each other?” Tanaka shrugs. Fujiwara had a point, a good one at that. It was possible that Yuko Nakamura and Mrs. Kubo could conspire together. But Yuki was away on vacation in upper Hokkaido, and there was no evidence the two women had met besides. However, Tanaka knew better. “What if it’s the house?” He suggests feeling Fujiwara out. 

The younger man scoffs. “You can’t believe in that old superstition,” He says. “It’s just a house.” Tanaka nods, once more, “Yeah,” He mutters, “Just a house.” Just a house, his left ass cheek. Tanaka knew better. That house had killed off three of his best friends, countless of dumb kids and teenagers, and everyone else who had owned it. There was nothing that house didn’t swallow up in it’s rage, and now a helpless baby and her mother lived in it. Tanaka gritted his teeth. How long did they have before they too were lost to Kayako’s never ending darkness? How long did he have to save them?

[write-like-you-mean-it]

The Space Between

I awoke to the simple movement of the bed as Illumi decided to finally get up. My eyes opened to see Illumi stretching in the golden glow of the sunrise’s gleam. A smile crossed my face as I watched the muscles ripple throughout his body. Each scare that lays across his back was another story that I’d hear one day. I snuggled deeper into the covers with a wish that his heat wouldn’t have left the bed. 

“Morning,” Illumi said in a husky tone that only morning can bring. He didn’t even turn around to make sure that I was awake. He knew me too well. 

“Hmm?” I hummed. “How’d you know…?” I didn’t finish my statement as a yawn wracked through my body. Illumi walked over to the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. 

“We’ll go back to the mansion today. It’s too dangerous for you to be out and about,” he said while scooping coffee grounds into the pot. I wiped a little bit of sleep from my eyes while finishing a full stretch. 

“I’ll be fine,” I said while looking down at my scarred hands. “I need to continue learning-”

“Yes you do,” responded Illumi while walking back over to the bed. “I thought I could teach you the basics and you’d be fine. Sadly, I miscalculated. You shouldn’t have been put in that situation.”

“It was my choice,” I said while finally sitting up in bed. Blankets still wrapped around my cold frame. An ache was felt deep within my stomach as images of last night held in the air. I shoved each one deep within the recesses of my mind. I can’t- no- I won’t let them drag me down into the pit once again. “I need to learn how to control the Nen that I created.”

Illumi nodded his head as the faint beep of the coffee machine buzzed. The air became rich with the brew. A deep nutmeg permeated the space. “Nen is a fickle thing.” Illumi sat on the edge of the bed while waiting for the coffee to finish. A smile crossed my face as I climbed across the bed to meet him. 

“Illumi,” I mumbled while holding out a hand to touch his upper arm. He jumped at the simple touch as if it was foreign to him. I pulled my hand back while looking at the man. He didn’t seem fazed, just startled. I replaced my hand as I realized it was a reaction to touch. “I’m guessing you were touched a lot when you were younger...”

I could sense the long haired man’s refusal to answer. Instead of a response, he placed his hand on mine as a calling card. “Ill,” I mumbled while resting my chin on his broad shoulders. We paused for a moment as if to give permission for the other to speak. A silent vow that I was there for him even if he didn’t want it and vice versa. “I was thinking,” I said while interrupting the perfect silence. “I think two kids would be enough.”

“But-” protested Illumi while turning to meet my gaze. 

“-Two kids that were treated fairly is as much as all yours combined. We’d have a house in an urban district with a good teacher of Nen. You only take jobs that are needed while I work at a sister company from the one where I left. I’ll need to learn Nen so that I can protect our kids.”

“Our kids?” he asked, confused. The final beep of the coffee pot rang throughout the hotel room. We both turned to look at the pot before turning our gaze to each other. 

“Yes. Our kids.” I place a small kiss onto his lips. “You just have to promise me something.” Illumi responds with a harsher, more passionate version of my own kiss. I pull away only for him to wrap his thick arms around my frame and kiss me once again. 

“Ill.” I mumble against his lips. He still doesn’t let up. It isn’t until I’m gasping for air that finally he lets go of my sore lips. A few pants pass between us. “Don’t die on me. I’m not going to leave my kids with a single parent. No matter what happens, you can’t die.”

“I won’t,” he says while placing a few kisses on the jawbone. “I won’t leave you alone. I told you that you’re mine and I’m going to keep that promise.” A moan escapes my lips as he finds a tender spot on my neck. 

My hand travels to wrap around his neck and one hooked onto his back. My hands absentmindedly massage any scar that would appear before my fingertips. “H-how did these happen?” I ask through harsh breaths. Illumi, however, didn’t give up his pursuit. His lips had found my collarbone. 

“Illumi you really should respond when I ask you questions,” I tease while feeling his hands reach to the bottom of my shirt and my hips. 

“I’m busy,” he growled before forcing me to lie down onto the bed. A soft groan fell from my lips before Illumi decided it’d be better to kiss me. His tongue ran across my bottom lip as a request. In a smooth motion, Illumi removed my shirt. 

My hands finally were able to entangle in his thick, long hair. This act elicited a groan from the man above me which only encouraged me to play more. I could feel Illumi harden as we kissed. Each action would barely receive a response beyond the simple small moan. 

I helped to remove my bra as he removed my shorts. Illumi removed himself from my swollen lips to kiss down the rest of my body. Each kiss sent another tingly sensation that only fueled my core. Each action felt different than before when he’d touch me. Illumi wasn’t aggressive, angry, or lustful. There was some other emotion fueling this engagement. The kisses only stopped when he’d find a place particularly tender that would send shivers down my spine and force my body to mold into his. 

A single finger ran down my stomach until he touched the top of my panties. I pushed my body up so that I could watch as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulled down my panties. The sudden coldness of the room made my legs briskly close. Illumi held them open with his hand before leaning down to kiss my hips. 

A soft groan left my body before I fell back onto the soft blankets. Illumi left my hip before using his tongue anywhere but where I wanted it the most. 

“Illumi,” I groan while trying to find his head so that I could help him. He caught my wrist with the hand that was free. 

“You know the rules,” he muttered against my skin. “No touching. Not yet at least.” I, angrily, moved my hands back with a pout on my face. “Now that’s not what I wanted,” he grunted again against my inner thigh. His soft breath was so close I could feel the heat against my skin. 

“Whose are you,” he mumbled, inching ever so closer with soft kisses. 

“Yours,” I moaned softly while trying to move my hips to meet with him. My eyes closed with the hope of feeling blissfully unaware soon enough. 

“Louder,” he growled. 

“Yours,” I said a little louder as my hips bucked into the space between us. Illumi leaned in closer before hsi soft tongue found my clit. A moan ran through my body as I leaned in for more friction. My comment was rewarded with him finally licking a broad stripe against me. 

My breath hitched as he kept going. Sucking and licking every groan and moan out of mouth. Lewd curse words fell from my lips. Soft encouragement kept him going. With each lick, I could feel the coil begging to be snapped. My voice moaned out Illumi name so many times that I was finally merging it with the curses. 

As I could feel myself spilling over the edge, Illumi pulled away from me. “What the fuck?” I grunted while bucking for any attention that he would give me. 

Illumi moved back to my mouth and gave me a deep, fervent kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue which only made me feel wetter. “You have a foul mouth,” Illumi grunted while finally pulling away. I was able to wrap my arms tightly behind his neck and into his hair. “You need to say who you belong to louder and then maybe I’ll give you permission to cum.”

A soft spoken plea came from my lips. Illumi removed what little clothing he had left before sliding fully inside me. Our moans mixed with each other as our lips connected for another time. “I’m yours Illumi,” I groaned as he started a slow burning pace. “I’m only yours.”

More grunts came from Illumi as his head was buried into my collarbone. He was focused on keeping a steady rhythm and a too agonizing pace. 

My hands were clawing into Illumi’s shoulders as he picked up speed. Soon enough, the same feeling of falling started to build up deep within me once again. “You’re only mine,” he gunts into my ear before his pace finally falters. I could feel him getting too caught up in the moment to remember to keep the same steady pace. 

A few more kisses and Illumi finally fell over the edge. He grunts into my shoulder before I follow suit. I arch my back into his  chest. Illumi pushes into me a few more times before finally getting his fill. My body still had a few trembles that worked its way out. Finally, Illumi moved his head so that he could look at me once again. “I love you,” he mumbled before giving a soft kiss to my lips. 

“I love you too,” I whisper before returning the favor. Illumi pulled out of me only to leave me cold. He flopped over to the side of the bed that had the most space for him. We both were left panting, sweating, and slightly sticky. 

“Two kids are alright,” he said. 

“Yeah,” I responded. I pulled the soft blanket back over my cold body. Illumi, a little confused because we really haven’t had much time after sex, placed an arm around me. “Coffee must be cold now.”

“Would you like me to make more?” he asked. 

“No. You’re alright.” I cuddle into his chest once again. I was beginning to like being held by him. My slight touches weren’t met with the same pull back as before. 

“Illumi?”

“Yes?”

“I’ll marry you. We just need a long engagement.”

I must’ve thrown him off because he didn’t respond. “Is that a yes?”

“I do want a ring and to actually be proposed to in a nice place but I would say yes.” Light twinkled behind Illumi’s eyes. A smile crossed his face before he kissed me once again. We only pulled away because a call rang from one of our phones. 

I groaned while pulling away. “It could be Machi. I have to ask how she’s been.”

“It’s my phone,” said Illumi while climbing out of bed to get his phone. My eyes traveled from the top of his head all the way down to his feet. All of him was a destination that I wanted to travel. He answered the phone in the monotone tone I remembered so vividly. He didn’t give much in the way of communication. The only answers he would give were “yes” and “I see.”

The phone conversation was brief. Illumi came back to bed quickly before I started to kiss him once again. Our lips became opposite attracting magnets for each other; however, I could sense something had changed. He wasn’t kissing me with the same aggressiveness as before. 

“What’s wrong?” I asked while laying a hand on his face. 

“That was Chrollo. I have a new mission.”

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Full Masterlist

[il-papa-patata]

Say your Name Forever

(Cardinal Copia traces the path of his relationship with one Cesarina Gastone de Medici. Cardi C x Female OC. Some domestic stuff, flashbacks & a proposal. Rated T.)

Copia admits. He's a fuck-up.

Upon his rising to Cardinal, he was asked to take holy wine. A drink to ease the meeting of a human and a demon, something which relaxed the body and mind to an extent, encouraged the Unholy.

What a normal person would do is meet with a demon – usually from one's preferred sin, with the strength varying depending on the promise of the individual. A contract would be made. And it provided the new Cardinal with both power and direction. Secondo lives by his master's hand – the righteous wrath of Asmodeus; as does Terzo, who slinks along with the sinuous Lord Baphomet.

Copia had expected perhaps a demon of envy. And he had expected someone not-too-imposing.

Well- no, actually. Copia pretends now that he had expected that, but when he took the holy wine, the only thought on his mind was how bitter the drink was.

He wasn't raised in the Church after all. Spent his adolescence as a Catholic. To him, the sanctity and procedures of these rituals were far-removed, hazy to him.

But he didn't meet a demon. He didn't meet even an imp. He met a human.

Cesarina slips out of her clothing, down to her pretty chemise, trimmed with lace and embroidered in whitework. It's a little damp – her dark hair is still beaded with drops of rain that haven't sunk in. It looks pretty. Like pearls.

When he hands her his cardigan, she slips it on gratefully, pulling it around her body and smiling.

“Thank you,” she hums, pushing her curls over her shoulders again. She holds his stare for a few more moments, and then grins. “Am I that pretty?”

He shakes his head a little, and then balks – “Yes. Very pretty. Sorry.”

She laughs, her full lips parting. She steps out of her petticoats and begins to undo his soaked cassock.

This is maybe the twentieth time they've met. If not that many, certainly over a dozen. He tries not to count them.

Today they had been out when it began to rain, and so he had hurried them back to his little apartment, up the stairs behind the greengrocers', a couple rooms and a small kitchen. He flushed at the mess – a swirl of trinkets and old magazines and general clutter that somehow didn't disguise the sparseness of furnishings – but she had pressed by, unflapped by it.

She pulls the skirt of the cassock up, getting the last few buttons.

Cesarina is – hm. She's a nice lady – she's from Florence, although she spends some time in Rome, which is how they end up meeting more often than not. It's not like he can just head over to Florence any time he felt like it. Letters filled in the gaps between meetings, and though she could just summon him the way she did the first night they met, the issue is him getting back to the anti-Vatican, so she doesn't.

She's –

“All done,” She sing-songs, pulling the cassock off his shoulders, “You should get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold, Faustino.”

-

Copia aches. He aches and shivers, cold and hot, groaning when a stony-faced Secondo smooths a wet cloth over his forehead.

He's burning.

He can feel the disapproval rolling off Secondo in waves, although the man has diligently taken care of him, at times replaced by nurses or Sisters or even occasionally the Mother Superiors. Mother Bonaventura brought flowers, had fed him some soup, had smiled but looked wrong doing it. That was when he was better, anyhow, could still think like a person, not like this.

Mostly it was Secondo. At first, he was his usual self – stern and quiet, but caring and gentle. Though Copia had fallen ill through his own carelessness, it didn't seem particularly worrisome. Just a cough, and a bit of a chill.

But then the fever came on. Slowly at first – he was still trying to work, to fill paperwork. Secondo brought him a lap desk and a small pile of papers until Copia had demanded more, which had set the first notch in Secondo's brow.

The fever worsened. The cough too. Soon he was hunched over the desk, his shoulders covered in blankets, trying still to work. Anything but stopping.

Secondo's brow notched again. And he took the papers and the lap desk away. When Copia had tried to argue – stood, from the sickbed, and took shaky steps towards him – Secondo had picked him up but the scruff of his pajamas and set him back down in the bed, pressing a hand to his breastbone in a silent demand to stay.

Terzo was nowhere to be seen. He'd left for somewhere else – outreach, maybe – after their fight. Copia simmers now in the need to apologize to his friend, his brother – not by blood but by bond. Copia is not sure Terzo even knows he's sick, or worse, if he knows – if he cares at all.

Copia cries. From the pain, from the loss, from the burning haze in his throat and eyes and limbs. Secondo wipes them away with the wet cloth, but it doesn't help.

“You're a fool,” Secondo says.

“I know,” Copia sobs. He just- he had wanted to hope. To hope that the woman he waited for would be – that woman from the dream, the woman he knew in an instant, who smiled at him and pulled him close, calling him by his name – his name that he chose himself – “Faustino.”

-

“It looks like we're trapped for a little while,” Cesarina says, combing her fingers through her hair. “Do you have any ribbon?”

“Ah, somewhere,” he says, stripping off his trousers and waistcoat. “Um, maybe that pile of Vogue?”

She pads over to it, her feet bare. It's a surprisingly sensual sound – her feet on the wooden floors of his home. He watches her lean over the pile of magazines, gently flipping through the stack. Her legs are very bare, and his cardigan fits well on her. That pale nape is exposed, the way her hair falls over her shoulder, and he has the sudden urge to bite there.

He focuses on finding another shirt.

“Found some,” she says.

He pulls the new, dry shirt over his head. He chafes at being wet, but being in dry clothes makes it a bit better. He lays some of his clothes on the radiator, hoping they'll dry fine.

She braided her hair along her neck in the meantime, and settled onto his bed with a magazine. He joins her, sitting next to her, hip to hip.

“I didn't know you collected old magazines.”

“I don't collect them,” he says, leaning into her, “I was there. I bought them at the newsstand.”

“Old man.”

He nips at her earlobe, to which she gives a little squeak.

“Crotchety old lady,” he grumps, nipping her more, fingers finding her waist and tickling.

She squeaks again and flutters her legs, trying to avoid his biting, wriggling until she's laid out on his sheets and gasping for breath before grabbing his hands to stop him.

“You're older than me!” She gasps, a big smile on her face, “By a hundred years!”

“Still rude to the elderly.” He flexes his fingers again, but her grip is firm.

But still, she doesn't stop him when he bends down to kiss her.

-

You wouldn't think summer rain could be so cold.

Faustino waits. He waits.

His cassock is soaked. His biretta is losing shape. His makeup is running.

But he waits.

Just for the glimpse of her. That woman.

It had to be her – although his dream had been hazy, he's certain now – the woman from his dream had been her, the small and pious Celestina. It had been her name he'd said, her waist he'd held, her voice that had said his name.

She's married. But he still – he needs to show her that she-

She comes by, out of the church, her woolen hood pulled over her head, the hem of her skirts pulled up from her delicate feet. She still has a rosary in her other hand, and when she looks up at him, she startles.

“Ah-” he says, stepping to her, “Signora de Medici-”

She shivers, but doesn't back away. “Yes?”

“F-Flowers. For you.” He holds them out. He'd bought them. They were a lot of money, but he needed to – to show that she meant everything to him-

She blinks. Her soft face pulls into a small smile, pleased, her cheeks filling with a dainty color. “Oh, why thank you.”

His heart leaps to his throat. The waiting was worth it for that smile, the dampness and the discomfort-

“Did my husband ask you to deliver these?” She says, perfectly, disastrously warm.

The heat rushes out of him. The warmth.

“Oh,” he says, the warmth replaced by a cold dullness, like winter earth, “yes. He sends... his regards.”

“Thank you,” she says, bundling the flowers beneath her cape, clasping it shut, “Have a good evening.”

“Good evening,” he murmurs. Watches her go.

After a few moments, she disappears from the street. He begins to walk home, soaked. Lifts his eyes to there – their home, where in the window he can see Celestina throwing her arms around her husband's neck, the look of confusion on his face that melts into the kind of joy Copia wanted-

Copia sniffles, wiping away the tears that spring to his face, the heel of his hand smeared with black kohl.

-

He brings in two cups of coffee. He hands one down to her, which she takes gratefully.

She sips, letting out a soft sigh when she's done – it's sweet, and Faustino smiles.

He settles beside her again on the bed, sipping his own cup. She idly flicks through a magazine, reaches out her hand to hold his.

He reads something else. Church documents. Leans over his lap and reads, their hands occasionally unclasping to flip a page but always rejoining.

The coffee is good. The beans were a gift from Primo, who knew about he and Cesarina long before anyone else in the church (she and him were friends, apparently.) They are deep and chocolatey, with a final mellow zing, good with milk.

The rain falls outside. The radiator lets out a soft tink-tink every once and a while, keeping away the chill.

He watches Cesarina, engrossed in the magazine. Her soft fingers find the end of her braid and fiddle with it, looping it around her fingers.

He smiles. Leans over to her and kisses her cheek.

She perks a little, looks at him, and smiles, before returning the kiss with one of her own.

They go back to reading.

-

He hears the call. And he likes it. Someone asking Baphomet to come fuck them, albeit in nicer terms.

He feels Baphomet reach for the call, but-

Copia gets there first, strolling through his apartment door.

He enters into a study.

It's nice looking – it's still night here, and it's warm, and the room is lit by the candles lit at the points of a rug – oh, that's clever, it's a rug woven to look like a summoning circle, saves some time and effort.

Probably more comfortable to be fucked on too.

There's a woman in the center of the rug. She wears a fancy dinner bodice, and a rich satin skirt, and her dark hair is tied up against her skull. She's arranged fruit, and candles in silver platters, and cakes in the shapes of- wow.

Her offerings are nothing like the usual meat and rope and rods that people put out for Baphomet. They smell sweet. She smells sweet as well.

“Well,” her voice says, and his ears perk, “That didn't work.”

“Not exactly,” he finds himself saying.

She spins, exposing her face, her wide dark eyes, and her-

Open bodice, which exposes a lovely swath of pale flesh, a deep fissure of cleavage.

He tries to suppress the grin. She's quite the lovely thing.

“Hello. You summoned me-?”

Oh.

“I didn't intend on you,” she says, softly, “Where's Baphomet?”

He swallows, staring at her.

Oh. She's-

“They're pretty hard to get a hold of,” he lies. Suddenly nothing else in the world matters.

It's her.

The woman he saw. That many years ago. Her dark hair, her dark eyes, that nose – even the soft line of her chin and yes, that swath of cleavage is familiar to him.

He kneels before her, taking the cup of wine she offers.

“So you came instead? I was really expecting Lord Baphomet. Are you that confident you can do just as well?”

He smiles, sipping the wine. Even that playful little grin. He wants to kiss her.

He shrugs.

He leans down and kisses her neck, his hand fanning over her knee, nibbling gently on the skin behind her ear, her little moan soft in his.

He has prayed ten thousand times, taken Eucharist and Inverse Eucharist, sat in the holy might of altars and in the infernal wisdom of the Leviathan, but nothing compares to this. The wholeness.

Has he really prayed before now?

“Do you have a name, Signorina?” he asks, fluttering delicate little kisses down her artery.

But, he finds-

As she says it, he says it too.

“Cesarina Gastone de Medici.”

-

She raises her arms above her head, slipping the hem of her chemise up along her milky thighs, releasing the stretch with a satisfied sigh.

“What do you want to eat? What do you have?”

“I still have some of the produce Giacomo gave me. And Swiss made risotto for me the last time he was here.”

“I could make arancini, then.”

“You know how to make arancini?” He gawps, hands stilling on a crate of summer vegetables.

“Yes!” she giggles. “Giacinta used to make them all the time. It was the first thing I ever tried to cook.”

“Well,” he says, heart still saddened at Giacinta's name these many years later, “The eggplant and tomatoes are perfectly in season.”

She giggles, pulling the small covered dish of risotto off his counter, handing it to him before taking the eggplants from him and beginning to cut them fine.

-

The woman weeps. Inconsolate.

She had been strong during the service, though he had noticed how her hands crushed the black gloves she held. She had not cried, she had simply held her dark-veiled head high.

Giacinta Vitale, after one death and nearly 200 years, had finally died. An impassioned member of the laity, she could often be found, six-foot-something and strong-browed, yelling at Terzo during his papacy. She liked Copia, and he liked her, and she was always telling him he just had to meet her charge.

“You would love her in an instant, Faustino,” she would say, lounging in his office with a glass of provided claret, “I'm sure of it.”

He meets her ward today, after providing the service, after the burial, after saying goodbye to his dear friend. Her charge had held it together this long, just as long as he had, but somehow, as they linger towards the back of the retreating mourners, it breaks for them together.

She sobs, falling heavily to the grass. It is a perversely beautiful spring morning, the grass still wet with dew, the trees flowering into delicate pink blossoms. It doesn't matter. The woman sobs, a bright, rough sound that pulls the tears from Copia's own eyes.

Despite the tears that stream down his face, he helps her up, carefully supporting her until they reach the door of the chapel, the small pew sat in the vestibule.

Loss never gets easier. Not even when you yourself have died. There was always the chance she could revive, but he knows better than to hold out for that.

She wails. He takes her gloved hand carefully, strokes the back of it. It's not much, but he hopes it's some reassurance.

Slowly, the crying ebbs. So does his own, watching the soft profile of the woman under the veil. The Inverse church wears white in mourning – this woman isn't one of theirs.

Eventually she turns to him, gently placing her own hand atop his, a stack of four hands upon her thigh.

“Thank you, Father,” she hiccups, her voice bashful, “I- thank you.”

“It's no trouble,” he murmurs, “I was a friend of Giacinta's.”

She hiccups again, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “Are you perhaps the Cardinal?”

“I am. Are you her ward?”

She laughs weakly. “I am. She told me a thousand times I had to meet you, but I was always so busy.”

“She told me the same,” he chuckles, “and I was also always busy.”

“It's a shame she didn't get to see us meet.”

“Yes.”

They sit for a moment, hands together, before she sighs.

“I have to go. The funeral feast doesn't wait, unfortunately.” She stands, seeming to collect herself, “But I- thank you, Cardinal.”

“Of course. My br- ah, one of the former Papas would have been better at consoling you, but-”

She lifts the deep veil from one half of her face – exposing a pair of lips like a blooming rose – and gently kisses his cheek.

“No, you were just what I needed.”

-

There's cold roast and the arancini and some sauteed zucchini, along with the zucchini flowers, fried in hot lard. They eat it down with a bottle of dry red wine Terzo had gifted him many years ago, and her ankle hooks with his as they eat at his meager, deck-of-cards sized kitchen table.

“The arancini are perfect,” he says, swallowing down some wine to soothe out the warmth of the rice.

“Well, I didn't know you could fry zucchini blossoms like this.”

He giggles. “We used to make them in the summer at the cloister. The Mother Superior would fry them in a pan with olive oil, since deep-frying was overindulgent.”

“And yet here you are,” she giggles, “Stuffing them with anchovy and cheese.”

“Lucifer prevents no such use of lard,” he grins.

-

“So what now, morningstar?”

Faustino cuts up the pumpkin that Giacomo gave to him as a welcome back gift. Whisks a cup of thin batter. Flicks a droplet of it into the hot lard. It sizzles.

The King of Hell is at his dinner table, in his tiny apartment, but Faustino couldn't care less. Right now, he just wants to fry this pumpkin. Not think about dying or death or the face of Celestina.

Lucifer hums, watching with another borrowed face. This one is lean, slim, with dark hair and a firm brow. It isn't Lucifer's first face, something almost soft and the color of fertile earth, but still, it looks like him.

“Do you keep chasing? She is still alive, still married. You weren't dead long. You could take what you want still.”

“I don't want it anymore,” he says, cursing at the spit of lard that lands on his hand. “I don't want her.”

Lucifer hums. “It doesn't seem so from here, angelino.”

Faustino says nothing, staring into the frying pot and furrowing his brow.

Lucifer stands, comes to his side, plucks a freshly-fried piece of pumpkin much to Faustino's disapproval. Lucifer grins, snakes an arm around his waist, and snarls, “Well, no more loving for my little Faustus, ah?”

-

Faustino swallows, hands over the ring.

It's- well, almost a joke, between the two of them, something that started the night he spirited her away from that masquerade, had disappeared in a haze of black smoke with her lifted over his shoulder, to her ringing, pealing laughter. The next morning, he had given over the small ring he'd bought – a gimmel ring, two hands clasping over a small onyx, their initials inscribed on each hand. The hollandaise she watched so carefully broke and the eggs overpoached in their haze of kisses, but he ate it all anyway.

It hadn't been a yes then, and it wasn't yeses the last times either but-

It's certainly not no either. It never has been. She might have waved him off- the distance would be troublesome, Cardinals don't get married – but she never said no to him. To them.

This time- is different. She doesn't laugh when he hands over another ring – maybe the sixth or seventh, a fine piece of rose quartz set into a delicately crimped band, meant for her right index finger. She- smiles, sort of, but it sits oddly, falls quickly.

He swallows.

“You know,” he starts, unable to summon the words, “Well...”

She puts it on, stares at it, how it sits on her finger.

Frowns.

Not frowns, but pulls her mouth into a tight line, her brow squeezing low.

“Ah, Faustino,” she says softly, taking it off and setting it on the table. “Hm.”

He doesn't like that look. How her eyes settle somewhere else, how her shoulder slump inwards. The difficult expression.

A stone sits in his stomach.

“What's the matter?” He manages to ask, throat tight.

“Ah.” Her expression shifts, as if trying to come up with words. Finally she slides the ring back towards him, taking the other three off as well and setting them by him. “I enjoy our time, Faustino. Really, I do. And it's nice to play pretend at these proposals, but-”

She falls silent again.

“But?”

“... But I don't think you could actually mean it.”

Ah.

The apartment creaks, in the way it always does when it rains. There is the soft tink-tink of the radiator, the scent of wool drying, arancini on the air, savory tomato. His heart beats, and so does hers, presumably. He doesn't know if he's breathing.

“What?” he manages.

She shrugs. “I think this is... a nice diversion for the both of us. And it's pleasant to be with you,” she smiles, “But I'm not someone to be married to.”

“Why not?” He leans forward in his seat, grasping her wrist.

She laughs, rattling off a list of words that don't seem her own. “I'm getting on in my years, and I'm too hedonistic and too occupied with my businesses to be much of a good wife, and I'm much more suited to taking lovers.”

“But do you want to be married? To marry me?” He insists, leaning into her. None of those reasons were enough. And they were not about them at all. All the shallow things others said about her.

She falls silent, staring at where he grips her wrist.

“I'm not-”

“I'm asking what you want, Cesa,” he urges, “Not what you think you are.”

She stares at his hand.

Her hair is dry now, falling over her shoulder in a thick braid.

A gentle color comes to her cheeks, and she murmurs, voice catching- “I do. I want to but-”

“But?” He urges, softly, leaning in even closer over the corner of the kitchen table, “But what, mia stellina?”

“I'm not- deathless, like you. And I feel like I'm rushing – we haven't known each other that long, but I always feel drawn to you, I feel like you know my thoughts so effortlessly and I'm-”

She reaches. Gently, softly – strokes his cheekbone with her thumb, their fingers lacing.

“I'm scared you might get bored, living as long as you have. That my- my future years won't hold your interest. I don't want it to be something we'd regret.”

He laughs.

He laughs right in her face, a guffaw of laughter. He doesn't mean to but- she can't be serious.

“What, what's so funny?” she pouts, and he laughs more, surging forward to kiss her.

She yelps against his mouth, but he's already moved on to her cheeks and nose and chin and is laughing, laughing, laughing.

“I died to meet you!” he guffaws, “Getting bored of you! Ha!”

She pouts, but it break into a smile, her hands reaching to ruffle his hair furiously.

“You're making fun of me!”

“No, I'm not! But- hahaha, Cesa! Cesa, Cesa, Cesa...” he trails off, settling against the surface of the table and smiling up at her fondly. “Cesa, I've been searching for you before I even died. One hundred years I've been searching for you. I couldn't get tired of you.”

He laces their fingers gently.

“One hundred...?” She ventures, furrowing her brows. She doesn't believe him.

“Yes,” he chuckles, “When we – the clergy – take the rank of Cardinal, we drink spiked wine to meet a demon patron. Usually they match your sin, and usually how important or powerful you are, and they tend to set a life path for the new Cardinal.” He pulls her hand close, kisses the knuckles. “I saw you.”

She blinks. And then another color ebbs into her cheeks, soft and warm. She pouts. “You saw me.”

“Yes. We held each other. I called your name, you called mine. That was all. But I spent from then until now just trying to find you. I died doing it. Thought I would swear off love and loving forever-

“When you summoned me to your study- I knew you. I knew you immediately. I knew I loved you in an instant, and bella, mia stellina, mia sposa, I've only fallen farther. You are a wonderful woman. And I love you.”

She blinks. Looks down at him, at where their fingers are laced.

It's a long moment, but he feels better for it, to have it all in the open – she knew he was old, knew he was dead, but now she knew a bit more, and it felt alright to have her know. He looks at the woman he died to meet, watches her expression change as she thinks about it all, the soft lips and her curving nose and those deep, dark eyes.

And...

She grins.

The expression lights up her whole face, a transformation worthy of some theatrical magic, and he smiles too.

She puts the rings back on, including the gimmel ring on the proper finger, taking his hand again. She is radiant here in his kitchen, his cardigan on her shoulders and her bare feet pressed against his.

“Well,” she says with her usual playful cheer, “Are we going to have a spring wedding, then?”

[clockworkgraystairs]

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @aesthetics-11​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @mysweetvilllain​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @thesirenwashere​ @b00kworm​ @acourtofmoonlight​ @queen-of-glass​ @random-llama-socks​ @jurdanhell​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ 

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist      Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3   Pt 4 [coming soon] 

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation. 

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier. 

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.  

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and  friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too. 

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.  

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted. 

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

 He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late. 

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.  

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing. 

He called her. No answer. Again. 

Had she forgotten? 

Impossible, they met there twice a week. 

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.  

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice? 

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students. 

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out. 

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it. 

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her. 

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes. 

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned.  “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then? 

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away. 

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.” 

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head. 

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

Cardan shrugged.  “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway. 

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!” 

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn? 

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his. 

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it. 

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise. 

Cardan just drove.

~

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting. 

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over. 

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way. 

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place. 

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him. 

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.” 

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.” 

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair. 

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare. 

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen. 

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down. 

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?” 

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks. 

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.” 

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn’t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too. 

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her. 

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after. 

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.  

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.” 

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused. 

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

~

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago. 

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.  

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him. 

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.  

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling. 

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks.