#she has been rotting in my drafts for almost half a year now

[sirenologyyy]

RIGHT SIDE OF MY NECK!

neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

✧ summary : a certain sully boy can't admit he's smitten by one of the daughters of the olo'eyktan, but why would he? he's calculated and discerning and she's everything he wished he was.

✧ warnings : swearing (that's pretty much it LMAO)

✧ author's note : neteyam's 15, reader is older than tsireya by a year or so, some much needed lo'ak and neteyam brotherly bonding (after the trauma inducing hellscape that was atwow), lo'ak talking like a regular teenage boy, and in honor of it being December again, may i present to you, a neteyam fic that has been rotting in my drafts since April 🤩

A gravelly groan escapes your lips as your hands managed to shield your face, almost to hide yourself from the undisputable truth that you, along with your Tsireya, and your older brother Ao'nung had been roped into the evident mess that was to teach the children of Toruk Makto the ways of the Metkayina.

You weren't as prejudiced as Ao'nung, sneering at the Sully children whenever he'd run into them, so meticulously influenced by your mother's dislike towards Skypeople, let alone the Omaticaya.

You weren't as welcoming as your younger sister, who had greeted them with big grins that only further accentuated her dimples and her devout willingness to help Toruk Makto's family in any way she could. While you had resorted to mirthless smiles and polite nods whenever you'd come across one of them, it was unnatural, yes, Ao'nung was quite unfair with his treatment towards them, yes, but Tsireya's overall cheer and joviality was something you could not for the life of you reciprocate.

You were fine with them being here, although you couldn't say the same for most of your people.

The only real thorn in your side was the oldest.

Neteyam.

Oh how your blood boiled whenever you'd spot him in the crowd. Always so eager to help, so eager to please, so perfect, so good, it made you want to punch the living daylights out of him... Well, only slightly, that may be an exaggeration. Your hate for him might be particularly irrational but valid in all the worst ways.

"Can't you tell them I've been bitten by something?"

"No" Tsireya snorts.

"I've slipped collecting coconuts and dislocated my ankle"

"Stop moving so much sister, or I will mess up your hair"

It was like he was so anxious about keeping up the golden boy facade, what a show off, you thought. Going out of his way to help any way he could, helping carry baskets of dried fish across the village, pushing heavy boats off to sea, weaving baskets, seeing to the ilus, even the tsuraks at one point. It infuriated you. What did he had to gain?

If there was one thing you despised, it was try-hards.

And Neteyam Sully was the bane of your existence.

"Oh!" You had exclaimed, snapping your fingers. "You can tell them I have fallen off my ilu and got ripped apart by an akula"

Tsireya laughed. "Yes, like they would believe me"

With another scoff, you stare st your sister through the mirror, so engrossed in the braiding technique you'd requested for her to do on your hair. "I don't see why you're bringing me into your affairs sister, it is clear as day you only want to help out the Forest People because you like the way that boy kept looking at you yesterday"

Tsireya tugs at your half-finished braid, making you swear and rub at your head, bringing Tsireya some amusement out of this. "Now, be quiet, be still, let me do my job"

With a sour mood, you allow Tsireya to thread the shells you requested she put in, sitting up straighter. "Your job in being an absolute bitch?"

Tsireya sighs again, feeling her slump in frustration behind you. "Do you think it is so easy a job for me to constantly deal with your attitude?"

A smirk comes to your face as Tsireya knots your braid off. "Don't worry, all your efforts will be seen by Eywa, she might even make the boy tell you your hair looks nice today"

"Enough, Y/N" Tsireya says, standing up from her seat.

You stood as well, hooking your arm around Tsireya's as you left your pod. "Oh let me have my fun"

A dozen morbid thoughts suddenly flood Tsireya's mind. "If we do that I am afraid there will be nothing left of Awa'atlu when you are finished"

When you arrive, you immediately spot both the brothers sitting on the edge of the woven platform, their long legs dangling just above the water. They looked to be so immersed in a conversation that neither of them noticed you or Tsireya approach them, only when they were about 4 feet apart was when you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Oh great mother, is it just the two of you?" Says you, making both the boys stand up like springs.

"No, our sisters are coming, they aren't exactly good at being early to things" says the younger one, his eyes flicking to Tsireya every now and then, making you dizzy trying to hold eye contact with the boy.

"Hey Tsireya" He finally says, nodding at her sister who laughs again. It took everything in you not to start dry-heaving in front of them.

"Why do you sound so disappointed?" Neteyam wonders, another smirk playing at his thin lips as he looks at you.

Your forehead creases. "I am nothing of the sort, what about you? What has gotten you so chipper?"

"Nothing all that special, really" He replied, not even convincing himself.

You heftily exhaled through your nose, moving away from the group and walking up on the platform, taking one of the seaweed bands on your arm to bunch your hair up just to get it out of your face. Once you'd pull your hair through the band the final time, you turned around just to see Neteyam's head turn away, almost like it was a chain reaction.

You placed your hands over the dip of your hips, facing the odd group. "Now, where has our dear brother wandered off to? It's almost noon and he is nowhere in sight"

This makes the rest of them look around for Ao'nung, even the two brothers who you'd assumed wanted nothing to do with him after your brother had showed his blatant contempt towards them after he'd ridiculed them during their arrival.

"He must still be with Rotxo and the others, we must be patient" says Tsireya.

Your mind remained closed, throwing your hands up in the air only for them to land on her hips with a thwack. "We both know Ao'nung does not move like the tide, he is too stubborn, too hard in the head " you found yourself saying, prodding a finger at your forehead.

"Patience, sister" Tsireya admonishes calmly, making her way towards you as you placed your hands on the identation of your woven skirt. "We must not rush things, we allow things to come to us at their own pace"

"Alright, alright" you tell her half-heartedly.

"Hey! Sorry, are we late?"

You turn her head to spot the two Sully sisters jogging up to the beach, the youngest out of all of them went straight for Neteyam, watching as he scooped her up with no hesitation. "Where in Eywa's name were you two?" Neteyam wonders, eyeing his sisters curiously.

The older girl rolled her eyes, pointing her chin at the youngest. "Couldn't decide on which skirt she wanted to wear"

The little girl pouts. "I didn't know which one I wanted!" She protested, her ears drooping down.

"She had two to choose from" the older sister groaned. Eyes finding yours as her grin widens, you chuckle to yourselves, having sisters was never a dull moment.

You two had bonded over that when you first helped her with her chores, although she seemed reluctant at first she accepted. Neither of you got anything done as you both found that snacking on dried seaweed and exchanging stories about your lives proved to be more fun.

"Maybe he isn't coming" says Neteyam's younger brother, subtly inching towards Tsireya while keeping everyone under the impression that he was trying to find Ao'nung just like she was, but in truth, all he wanted was to stand beside her. Tsireya didn't pick up on it at all, being the oblivious person she was, but Neteyam did, quietly chuckling to himself as he puts Tuk down, watching as she sprints towards the sand at full speed.

You shook your head at the sound of Tsireya's giggles and walks off the diving platform as well, making your way towards the beach to stretch your legs, walking along the coastline trying to kill time. That is until something tugs at your skirt, you turned around to see who it was but then looks down to see Neteyam's youngest sister, proudly holding a small conch shell in her hands, beaming up at you.

"They look just like the ones in your hair!" She exclaimed, a gigantic grin spreading across her face as you crouched to her level, taking the shell from her hands to study it. "It's a light purple, you don't have any purple shells yet"

"You're right, I don't have any purple shells in my hair yet do I?" You say in genuine amazement, holding it up against the sun, feeling the little girl scoot closer to you, but the shell had suddenly started to sprout 6 legs and you dropped it, startled by the animal and by the little girl's scream, you watch as it scurries back into the water, gone forever.

You turned back to the little girl who was visibly upset, another frown slowly forming on her face before you placed your hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Hey, we'll find another one around here somewhere, don't be upset"

She huffed, her shoulders rising and falling. "I didn't know there was something inside it, I really didn't"

You shook your head. "Neither did I, we both didn't know" you assured the younger girl, cupping her round face as her frown slowly started to shift into a smile. "Look, if we need to do this properly and find shells for my hair, I'm gunna need to know your name"

"Tuk!" She says. "My name's Tuk!"

"It's very nice to meet you Tuk"

"Really?" She giggled as you nodded. "What about you? What's your name?"

You beckoned her closer with a simple gesture of your fingers as you whispered your name into her ear.

"You've got a very pretty name" Tuk whispers as well, hiding her face behind her hands as she giggled.

"So do you" You had whispered all the same.

Tuk then looks back at the diving platform, and then back at you. "Y'know I think my brother is staring at you"

"Oh yeah? Why do you think that is so?"

The little girl scratches her head. "I don't know, he only stares at things he thinks looks nice or looks weird"

You grinned. "Does your brother think I look nice or weird?"

Tuk blinks. "I don't think you look weird"

"Would he think that?" Ka'leia emphasized.

"Probably" Tuk replies honestly, looking back at the diving platform again. "Why else does he keep staring at you?"

It made you think, it made your mind spiral into the bottomless void of memories in which you had caught a pair of warm amber eyes catch yours, and every time you did it made your heart stutter, however unfortunate it may be. "I'm not so sure either"

"Neteyam's weird" Tuk deduced.

You snort. "Yeah, he's weird"

Silence settles between you, but not for long as Tuk takes your hand and pulls you up. "Can we go and find shells now? Then we can put them in your hair! Then you'll look pretty!"

"Am I not pretty now?"

"No, not really" says Tuk, swinging your interlocked arms back and forth as her wide eyes scanned the sand.

"No?" You wonder almost scandalised, "alright " you nod.

You and Tuk spent a good couple of minutes digging holes on the beach to fish out the shells that had been buried underneath the sand, conch shells, shards of shells, fossils, rocks, bits and pieces of coral, if it was pretty enough for Tuk's standards she's adding it to her pile.

5 minutes later you're following her around with an armful of tiny shells, half the beach full of holes from Tuk and her makeshift shovel that had originally been a branch, with her screaming in delight when she's spotted another one, hurriedly running to you to add it in with the rest.

Lo'ak abruptly places his hands on Neteyam's shoulders, purposefully trying to scare him but Neteyam does not flinch at all. "Yo bro, you got a staring problem or something?" He wonders in English, stepping beside Neteyam to look out into the beach too.

"You done flirting with Tsireya?" Neteyam shot back.

Lo'ak huffed. "Pfft, me? Tsireya?"

"I know your tell, your tail's a dead giveaway"

Lo'ak laughs, punching Neteyam's shoulder, finally making the older boy turn to face him. "Yo! Shut your ass up!"

Neteyam chuckles. "No one else here understands English bro, we're fine!"

Lo'ak shook his head. "I'm not worried about the Metkayina, I'm worried about that devil right there" He says, pointing at the beach.

Neteyam looks at the direction where Lo'ak was pointing. "Who? Tuk?

"She's got spot on hearing, incredible memory," Lo'ak listed. "If I'd have known how much of a tattletail she'd be I'd have abandoned her in the forest when she was a baby"

Neteyam frowns, laughing. "Yes, and when I'd get home I'd find your extra finger in my stew"

Lo'ak grimaces, almost gagging as Neteyam wiggles one of his fingers at him. "Disgusting!"

Neteyam cackles loudly, watching as Lo'ak covered his mouth. "You're overreacting!" He tells him.

"Nah bro, you don't get to fill my mind with those kinda thoughts" Lo'ak says.

Neteyam places a hand on his back. "Face it baby bro, i'm in your head"

Lo'ak pushes it away, chuckling. "Lay off!"

"Will you two ever go a day without fighting eachother?" Kiri asks, giving them a look.

"Not sure" says Lo'ak. "But I wouldn't hold my breath"

Kiri rolled her eyes and Lo'ak turns to Neteyam again. "If Ao'nung isn't coming then we might as well fetch him, if you catch my drift"

Neteyam shakes his head, his braids swishing from side to side. "No, we will do no such thing"

Lo'ak half shrugs, already moving away. "Fine, if you won't then I will"

Neteyam grabs his arm, stopping his brother in his tracks. "Hey, what did dad say?"

He pretends to think. "Not sure, something about you being the next poster boy of the clan?"

Neteyam flicks a finger on Lo'ak's forehead, making the younger boy hiss. "No, you skxawng, he wants us to be on our best behavior, and I don't want to be stopping you from pulling another shitty stunt that'll get you in trouble"

"Fine" Lo'ak says. "I'll go check up on Tuk," He tells Neteyam unconvincingly, scratching the side of his head. "What's up with you and wanting to stay on the beach?"

Neteyam's jaw tightens. "There's nothing that's keeping me here except my promise to dad"

"Uh-huh" Lo'ak nods, eyes flicking to you and Tuk. "Nothing or no one?"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Lo'ak frowns, pretending he understood. "She's pretty hot"

Neteyam pays him no mind, only scoffing.

"She still avoiding you?" Lo'ak asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, and I can't seem to find the reason why" Neteyam huffed.

Lo'ak snickers. "Maybe it's cuz you're coming off a little too strong"

"I don't know how else I can get her to talk to me without her insulting every fibre of my being or making up some excuse to leave, I've tried everything" He replies desperately, causing Lo'ak's eyes to go wide, a whistle leaving his mouth. "Damn that bad??? What the hell did you do to her to make you hate her this much?"

Neteyam rakes his face with dread. "I don't know baby bro, but you have no idea what I would do to find out the reason why"

His brother was too down-bad to be saved, Lo'ak knew that much, looking across the beach as he studies you with his little sister. Neteyam looks at his brother, his eyes seemingly trained on you as it flicks up and down, he slaps his brother's arm. "It's rude to stare"

"Yeah, go tell that to them" Says Lo'ak, pointing at a handful of Metkayin boys passing by, giving you stolen glances as they talked amongst themselves, chuckling and hooting.

Neteyam's eyes narrow into slits. "They're irrelevant, we must not let ourselves become like them"

Lo'ak glances at him, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah, okay, so stop looking"

"Fine, I won't" Neteyam replies quickly, watching Lo'ak turn around and walk to the edge of the platform. But he dosen't stop looking, he hated himself for it for it and the way that it was practically eating himself alive.

Wasn't it such a simple task? To turn his head around and look somewhere else? Well it should be, but Neteyam couldn't bring himself to pry his eyes away from you, you, oh Eywa. Your eyes were the colour of the sea, your hair shiny and black, your smile making his stomach twist itself into knots, your laugh making shivers run up his back, the way you dressed alone would make people turn heads, but your attitude was what drew Neteyam in.

You didn't feel the need to keep up this respectful facade, treat him like a guest because it was expected of you as the daughter of the Olo'eyktan, no, you treated him the way you thought of him.

You were rude, you were impolite, and you were blunt, because you didn't like him. You didn't feel inclined to tolerate him just like what was expected of you. He wished he was that brave.

"'Teyam! 'Teyam look what I got!" Tuk squealed as the pair of you walked up the diving platform carrying mountains of shells on your palms. "Y/N told me she and 'Reya could put these in my hair after diving lessons! Isn't that cool?!?"

"Oh Tuk, you didn't force her into braiding your hair did you?"

Tuk looks back at you for moral support. "But she said she would-"

"-Neteyam let her be, if she wants me to braid her hair then I'd be happy to" you had jumped in, siding with Tuk whose ears flicked upwards at her statement. "I hope it isn't too infuriating that I favour your sisters over you"

Neteyam wanted to scoff, but instead stifles it with a tight smile. "Nonsense, my sisters have that effect on everyone" He tells her, looking at Tuk. "Don't you?"

Tuk simply gives him a giggle, a swift nod, and then runs to Kiri, shouting her name over and over again before the older girl groans in acknowledgement. "Here," you say, handing him a conch shell with yellow and brown patterns ruminating on its surface.

"What's this for?" He wonders.

"Your sister practically dug up the entire beach, you deserve at least one" you chuckled.

Oh. He stares at the shell in your hands, then looks back at your face. "If I take this does this mean we'll be friends?" He asks, a sly smile breaking on his face.

"Oh you wish" You reply, smirking as you narrow your eyss at the boy. "Taking this won't change anything"

"Yes it does," He replies as a matter of factly. "this is the longest conversation we've ever had without you leaving or insulting me"

"No it dosen't" You shook your head, insistent. "I'll still hate you after this"

He hums. "I think I can live with that," He smiled. "I did get a gift from the daughter of the Olo'eyktan after all" He laughs when he hears you scoff.

You leave right after he takes it and right before he could say thank you. Walking off to find a basket to store more of Tuk's shells in.

Neteyam looks at the shell in his hands, about 2 and a half inches long, smooth, shiny, perfect, it was perfect. He loves it. He closes his fist, a smile breaking on his face before he could even relent it, a light purple tinting his cheeks as he places the shell in one of his pockets.

[amor-immortalem]

Of Horrible Parenting and Stubborn Teenagers

A/N: So this has been kinda just rotting in my drafts for the better part of a year and I don’t have anything better to post so why not. Also this was written before I got the idea for Max’s traitor arc.

Word count: 6.8k

Warning: bad parenting, self-harm, intrusive thoughts, Cerberus attacks, serious injury

“The answer is no.” Azalea huffs as she goes back to her texting conversation.

“C’mon, ‘Zay, ya know I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have any other options available.” Mammon would do almost anything to get his daughter to agree to this right now.

“Okay??? And?? You asked ‘n I said no. You don’t pester and hound Cyrus or Aurelius if they tell you no.”

“Because they’re willing to help us out when we need it, unlike you.”

“I’m not the one who wanted him to exist! I made it clear the day you ‘n Mum brought that brat home from the hospital that I didn’t want no part in helpin’ with him. I tolerate him just so it makes everythin’ at home easier for y’all. Don’t mistake that for me actually giving a damn about him, old man.” She stands, heading for her room.

“I don’t get what the big deal is Azalea. I’m just asking for you to watch Mahlon for three hours on Saturday afternoon while your Ma ‘n I are in the meeting with your uncles and Lord Diavolo.”

“And I said no. I got plans that day and I ain’t cancellin’ for some snot-nosed brat that I don’t even like.”

“Ya don’t anymore. You’re grounded and you’re babysitting. End of story.” Mammon says as he lets out a huff.

“Grounded?!” The freckled half-demon squawks in disbelief, “I didn’t even do anything wrong this time, why am I grounded?”

“Because you’re being a brat and I’m your father and I can ground ya for any reason I see fit. You need ta start helpin’ out with your brother more whether that’s willingly or unwillingly, I don’t care.”

“That’s fuckin’ ridiculous and way beyond unfair.” Azalea has to bite her cheek to keep from screaming at her father and making things worse. “You know, those three hours are going to cost me big time.”

“Oh please,” The demon rolls his eyes, “Ya spend all day with yer head buried in those damn textbooks, and your grades are already at a perfect 100 percent. I get that advanced courses are a lot of work but three hours not spent studyin’ ain’t gonna hurt ya none.”

“I’m not-! Yeah, sure whatever. I’ll watch the li’l shit since I don’t have anything else ta do now. I’m goin’ back ta the dorm. I hate you.” Azalea turns away and starts to make her way back to the House of Lamentation.

“Yeah, well I aint your biggest fan right now either,” Mammon calls after her, unaware of what he’d just cost his second eldest.

*******************************

“You know this is going to cost you your spot on the team, right?” Azalea’s track coach asks her as she gives her a disbelieving look. “You promised to be there to run the high jump and the 3,000-meter sprint. Without you there, the team will have to forfeit those events.”

“Yeah, Coach...” The white-and-black-haired half-demon frowns. “I’m well aware but something came up that I can’t get out of. I’ll turn my uniform in tomorrow.”

“Alright,” The older demoness frowns, “I’m sorry to lose you though. Even after you lost your eye, your speed alone makes you one of my best runners- not to mention all of that work you did to make up for your lack of depth perception so that you could get back to running the high jump… oh well. Maybe next year you’ll be able to join us again.”

Wouldn’t bet on it, Azalea thinks to herself. If things go my way, I won’t even be in the Devildom after tomorrow night.

“Thank you for the opportunity to run with you guys though,” Azalea smiles as she gives a bow before turning to leave.

*******************************

“Maaaaaaxxxxx,” Azalea calls in a sing-song voice as her girlfriend picks up the phone later that day.

“Good morning to you too, Sunshine.” The human chuckles softly at the greeting, “What can I do for you at four in the morning?”

“Four in the- ah shit sorry. Forgot about the time difference. Anyway, will ya summon me up to the human world with ya? Pretty please. I miss you.” Azalea has other motives for wanting to go up to the human world.

“You can’t just wait for me to come home back to the Devildom this weekend?” Max feels like something isn’t quite right here.

“Nooooo. I miss ya ‘n I wanna see ya now.”

“You can be patient besides I’m pretty sure if you just up and disappeared again all of the adults in your family would up and have a heart attack and I’d rather not be responsible for the deaths of Lord Diavolo’s entire cabinet.

“Awwww,” the half-demon pouts, “Yer so mean.”

“Babe, if you miss me that much, why don’t we video chat for a little bit? You don’t seem like you’re not in a good place right now.”

“Me? Nah, I’m fine, but I won’t turn down a video chat.”

“Alright, give me five minutes to wash my face and I’ll call you,” the human sighed rubbing a hand over her icy-blue eyes. “Slept in my makeup last night because I was so exhausted from training for my trials to gain my sorcerer’s license so I’m sure I look like a hot mess.”

“Alright, I’m setting a timer. If ya don’t call back in five minutes exactly, I’m calling you whether yer ready or not.” Azalea hangs up quickly and Max can only stare at her phone.

“That has to be a sign that something is wrong,” she mumbles under her breath while rolling out of bed, “she’s never that demanding of my attention…”

*******************************

The video chat was going great but Max can see there was something wrong with her girlfriend. She was just a bit too hyper, too loud, too… much...

“So how has staying on track with your meds been going?” it’s an innocuous question- one Max asks frequently since Azalea has a habit of not medicating regularly after concluding that she was feeling better so she didn’t need them anymore.

“It's been good- sometimes I forget them in the mornings though but I only when I wake up late ‘n gotta run out the house super quick.”

“That’s good. You haven’t been missing any lately right? Like within the past couple of days?”

“No. My parents have really been on my case about it- apparently, Aurelius ratted me out for not takin’ ‘em the last time I forgot. Oh! Oh! Also, I have to cancel our date for the Saturday you come back… I’m kind of grounded at the moment.”

“What? Why? Your parents know there’s a huge meet that day and if you don’t show up you’ll lose your spot on the team for the year, right?”

“It was a whole thing I got into with Dad- ‘pparently I’m s’possed to help out with Mahlon even though I’ve made it clear I ain’t want a damn thing ta do with him… anyway the old man said that I was babysitting whether I wanted to or not and then promptly grounded me…”

“You never told him did you?”

“What’s it matter anyway?” Azalea scoffs, “If I ain’t in any danger, my business is my own. My old man’s not entitled to know what’s going on in my life anymore. He’s shown me enough times he clearly favors his sons and doesn’t even care enough to find out what I’m up to nowadays anyway. Besides… he can’t disappoint me by not showin’ up ta things if he don’t know about it… It’s not like it really matters all that much anyway…”

“Is that really what you want though, Hon?” Max frowns. “Being on the track team is everything to you and I’m sure if at least your mother knew, she’d overrule his decision and unground you so you could go.”

“Oh please,” the white-and-black-haired girl laughs, “neither of my mothers have ever once gone against Dad when it comes to parenting issues. Both Mum and Mama Thirteen won’t go against him this time either… I’ll just have ta eat the loss. In fact, if any member of my family’s parental unit found out I was still runnin’ track, they’d probably tell me ta cut it out. That it’s too dangerous for me or some shit like that. All three of ‘em would probably be happier if I just lived in a bubble for the rest of my life and never did anything ever like a little pet canary in a cage.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, babe. Your parents love you and I’m sure they wouldn’t do that to you when they know you love it so much.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” the half-demon sighs, “it’s getting late here, I’m gonna go to bed now ‘n sleep off this bad mood. I’ll see ya Friday. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Sunshine,” Max smiles as she blows a kiss at the phone, “See you Friday.”

And with that, the girls end their video chat.

*******************************

“So when we get to the House of Lamentation,” Mammon begins as he makes the final turn towards the house, “please- for the love of all things unholy- be on your best behavior. Your sister already ain’t happy about havin’ ta watch ya so don’t give her a reason to take anything out on you.”

“Okay,” Mahlon chirps from his car seat in the back. “How long do I have to stay with her for?”

“Just for three hours. If Mama or I run any later than that, one of your brothers will come to get you since they’ll both be off from their jobs by then, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” The black-haired half-demon nods as he pulls out a folded-up paper from his backpack. “Do you think she’ll like the picture I made her?”

“I hope so, Kiddo.” Mammon smiles as the car comes to a stop, “I sure hope so.”

*******************************

Azalea is in the shower, relaxing under the hot water, enjoying the last little bit of her free time before she had to play babysitter. It hasn’t been a good day. Logging into Devilgram triggered it- the empty feeling she had now that she wasn’t on the track team anymore from looking at her teammates' stories and then it spiraled into intrusive thoughts.

What if you got rid of the problem altogether? a voice whispered in the back of her mind. Your parents already hate you so why not just nail your own coffin closed and get rid of the brat? He’s powerless or at the very least a late bloomer- you could easily dispose of him. The only one who’d know what you did would be Max. You could let Cerberus eat the body to get rid of the evidence.

“Hey, Azalea, your dad just pulled up.” Max is there to interrupt the train of thoughts, “You want me to get the door, or are you almost done?”

“Can you get the door, please? I’m... gonna be a minute.” Azalea says as she leans her head back against the cool tiles of the wall behind her hoping to lock away the intrusive thoughts deep in her mind.

“Alright,” Max says, “I’ll come check on you in a few more minutes- are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’M FINE,” the half-demon yells. “JUST-” She stops, taking a deep breath, “Just go downstairs and get the door.”

“Oh... okay,” Max hurries and closes the door before going downstairs just as Mammon and Mahlon are walking into the entrance hall.

“Where’s ‘Zay?” The demon asks as he notices his daughter is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s finishing up in the shower,” The human sighs, “it’s not a good day, Sir.”

“What do you mean by that? She in a mood or somethin’?” Mammon frowns as Max nods quickly.

“It’s... It’s a bad one.”

“What set it off?”

And now Max has a choice to make. She can tell Mammon the truth about the track meet and how Azalea lost her spot on the team or she can lie and say she doesn’t know and then deal with trying to keep things peaceful for the day as much as she can. Against her better judgment, the human chooses the latter as she shrugs.

“If it gets any worse, text me or Arella and one of us will leave to come get Mahlon then.” Mammon looks up toward the top of the stairs. “I have to go, though,” He turns to his son. “Alright kiddo, make sure you’re super good for your sister when she gets out of the shower and-”

He stops as the scent of blood crosses his nose. His blue-to-gold eyes look up to the top of the stairs.

“I’m gonna check on Azalea before I go.” And with that, he’s up the stairs.

*******************************

Shit, shit, shit! I cut too deep! Azalea scrambles around the bathroom for the first aid kit as she holds the towel over her side where she had dug into it with a razor blade. Damnit all, me ‘n my shitty timing. What an amateur move! Dad’s gonna smell the blood and think I hurt myself and then he’s not gonna leave me alone for the rest of the damn day!

Just as she finds the kit and starts placing gauze over the cuts, Mammon knocks on the door. Good thing she’d locked the door before she started cutting just to avoid Max walking in on her.

“Go away! I’m fine!” She shouts before her father can get a word out. “I was shaving my legs and accidentally cut myself! It’s no big deal.” She takes the razor blade and makes a deep gash in her leg before hiding the blade so her lie is convincing- it actually feels good.

“That smells like a lot of blood though. Do you need stitches?”

“Fuck,” She mouths to herself before answering, “Nope I’m good. It’ll heal on its own as long as I bandage it up really good.”

“Okay,” the demon sighs in relief- the cut, while deep, sounded like it would heal on its own. “You worry me sometimes, kid. Anyway, I’ll get going now. Be nice to your brother. If Mom and I run late, one of your brothers will come get him so you’re not watchin’ him longer than I’m asking of ya. After that, you can do whatever you want.”

“Sure fine.”

“Alright, everything is fine.” The demon announced as he came down the stairs. “I’ll get going now,”

“Okay,” Max and Mahlon nod before they head off to the common room.

*******************************

“And at school, we had to make a report about someone in our family that we’re super proud of and make a picture book to go with it,” Mahlon starts to search his backpack for the various things he’d been talking about. “I wanna show it to Azalea once she gets out of the shower, but do you wanna see it now?”

“I’d love to!” Max nods, “I bet you did a good job. Who did you choose? Was it one of your parents or your brothers?”

“No, it was Azalea- that's why I wanna show it to her. The teacher said I did a really good job at it so I thought she might like to see it.”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet of you,” The black-haired human smiles softly.

“Ain’t what sweet?” Azalea interrupts as joins the pair.

“Sis!” Mahlon hops off the couch and runs over to give her a hug.

Azalea side-steps the four-year-old. “Don’t touch me, pipsqueak, now what were the two of ya talkin’ about?”

“Azalea,” Max warned.

“What? I jus’ don’t wanna be touched right now, that okay?”

“It’s okay! That’s okay! Here,” The black-haired boy runs back over to his backpack and finally grabs out the little booklet he’d made. “I made this at school. It’s about you.”

“About me?” For a moment there’s a look of surprise and confusion before it’s replaced with the usual scowl she keeps on her face as she takes the booklet and flips through it.

It was generally well made for something a four-year-old could make but there was one problem with it. It was filled with things that had previously been kept within the family- things kept behind closed doors to make things appear not as bad as what they really were.

“Mahlon, do Mum and Dad know what’s in here? Did they say you could put all this stuff in this booklet?”

“N-no… did I do something bad?” The freckled boy asks, his expression shifting into one of worry. “Do you not like it? Are you mad at me?”

“Huh? No, I ain’t mad it’s just- some of this stuff is private information that shouldn’t be public knowledge because it's family stuff. Actually, I like it a lot ‘n yer teach was right when they said ya did a really good job with it.”

At his sister’s words, Mahlon’s eyes widened. “Really?!” A wide smile finds its way onto his face, so excited that his big sister gave him a compliment that he didn’t hear the first part of what she said.

“I… yeah? Wouldn’ta said it if I didn’t mean it… well, whatever let’s just find ya somethin’ ta do. I assume Dad already had ya eat lunch- ya don’t still take naps at this age do ya?”

“I had one earlier, can we play a video game together?”

“I mean we can but ya gotta be more specific than just a video game,” Azalea hums, “what kinda genre do you wanna play? Action/adventure, RPG, fighting?”

Mahlon thinks for a moment before answering, “A fighting game!” He takes a hold of Azalea’s hand and starts to pull her toward her room.

“What are you doin’? Game systems here in the common room.”

“I wanna play in your room.”

“Nope, Max ‘n I moved all that stuff out here for the day cuz I don’t want ya in there. I got too much stuff you could mess up.” The older half-demon grabs the remote and flips on the tv before popping a fighting game into the game console and grabbing the two wireless controllers. She takes a seat on the couch next to her girlfriend who was just surfing Devilgram for the time being.

“What’s the word, Babe? Anything new?”

“Not really, Zulima’s live from the second layer right now and Aurelius just posted a selfie from the set of his latest shoot but other than that, it’s quiet.” The human looks over at her and smiles before leaning her head against Azalea’s shoulder.

“When isn’t she live streaming? Anyway, Mahlon, come on. Ya gonna come join or do I gotta play a two-player game alone?”

“No, I wanna play too!” The four-year-old hops up on the couch seated right next to his sister and she hands him a controller.

*******************************

It didn’t take Mammon long to get up to R.A.D. however, finding a parking spot proved to be arduously time-consuming.

“Why in the world is the lot so packed?” The demon grumbles to himself as he heads inside. “‘S almost like there’s some kinda school function or somethin’…”

As he makes his way up to the Student Council room where they had arranged to have the meeting, he spots Arella having a conversation with Beelzebub.

“Hey guys,” Mammon says as he wraps his arms around his wife’s shoulders. “How was the human world, Babe?

“Not much different than it’s always been,” Arella hums as she leans back against his chest. “How’re the kids? Is everything alright? Where’s Mahlon? I know the boys are busy today and Azalea had a track meet today so even if she was feeling charitable, she wouldn’t have been able to watch him.”

“She… she had a track meet today?” Mammon pales, “I…um… I didn’t know that…”

“So that’s why she quit the team,” Beel says, “so she could babysit. That’s not something I expected from her.”

“She quit the team?” Both Mammon and Arella are surprised at the Avatar of Gluttony’s revelation.

“Well, more like she was kicked off the team for not being able to come to the meet today but still… same difference. It just sounds better to say one quit than it is to say they got kicked off it.”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Arella says, “Is that normal, Beel?”

The ginger-haired demon nods, “Attending meets is a requirement no matter who you are if you want to stay on the team. The coach was upset but she said she couldn’t give Azalea any special treatment or else the whole team might start blowing off the meets. It applies to every sports team at R.A.D. That’s the reason why Lucifer always tried to have Lord Diavolo schedule our Student Council meetings outside of my games so I wouldn’t lose my place on the team.”

“And Azalea did this of her own volition?” Arella can hardly believe it as Beel nods and out of the corner of her eye, Arella catches Mammon shifting nervously. Suddenly, she’s not so sure Azalea ever agreed to babysit in the first place.

“I see… well I guess there’s always next season then. We’ll just have to make sure it never happens again.” The human looks up and her husband with a smile, “Right, Love?”

“Yeah, totally,” the white-haired demon lets out a nervous laugh- one he lets out when he knows he’s done something wrong- almost like he was subconsciously confirming her theory, “Well, I’m gonna go take my seat now,”

“Oh no you don’t,” she says as she holds onto his jacket sleeve, “you’re going to stay right here and we’re going to have a little chat about this. Beel, could you give us a moment, please? Let Lucifer know we’ll be in shortly. I know we’re still waiting on Belphegor before we can actually start but still, just let him know we’re here.

“Sure thing,” the sixth-born smiles before turning to his older brother, “rest in peace, Mammon, I’ll have Satan write your eulogy.”

Once Beelzebub has gone, Arella turns to Mammon with an unamused look.

“You forced Azalea to watch Mahlon today, didn’t you?”

“So, in my defense, I didn’t know there was a track meet today,” the Avatar of Greed starts.

“And yet you knew our sons’ schedules well enough to know that they were unavailable to watch their brother today? Don’t you think that’s a little unfair? And what do you mean you didn’t know? It’s been on the family calendar in my home office for months now. I even sent you a list via text so you could put it in your phone’s calendar at the start of the season- You went to the last one with me! Track is the most important thing to our daughter right now, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know but… c’mon ‘Rella, constantly asking the boys to change their schedules for us is unfair to them too.”

“I get that, Mammon, but that’s why you should have just brought Mahlon with you! Honey, we’ve done so much work with Azalea just to even get her to the point of being able to tolerate him over these last couple of years. Why in all the three realms would you throw that away by just forcing her to babysit when she doesn’t want to?”

“Because there’s no reason she can’t babysit every now and again- and it's not like I just dumped him on her for the whole day. It was just these three hours- less if Cyrus or Aurelius get done at work early. Don’t you think we should give her a little push now and again?”

“Yes, but not with this, Mammon. If we push too hard, she’s just going to resent him even more. Things like this are tricky. You remember what it felt like when Lucifer just forced looking after me onto you, don’t you? You hated it at the start- and I know you did because you made sure to tell me at every opportunity you got.”

“Yeah, I know, but like once I got over it, I didn’t hate it and that’s what I was goin’ for. Ya always say Azalea is the most like me so why not use a strategy that I know has worked in the past? Watch, by the time we get done here, she might’ve found that she enjoys babysittin’ and might want to do it again sometime.”

“I’ll give you points for logic, Love, but you better pray to the Demon King that this actually works out the way you want it to. If we get to the House of Lamentation and our youngest is completely traumatized by an older sister that didn’t want to babysit, you’re going to be in a hell of a lot more trouble with me than you already are.”

And with that Arella walks into the old Student Council room.

*******************************

“God-fucking-Damnit, where did he go? It can’t be that hard to find a fucking powerless four-year-old brat.” Azalea curses as she checks under Zulima’s bed for the sixth time.

She, Max, and Mahlon were all playing a game of hide-and-seek and so far, Azalea was losing. How she could fail to find her youngest brother was beyond her. She’d searched everywhere for the kid but he wasn’t anywhere she could think of. The entire House was game except for the underground tomb where Cerberus still resided. “Motherfucker, he wouldn’t have-“

The sound of a frightened scream causes her to turn her head so fast that Azalea nearly gets whiplash. A second later, she’s bolting down toward the underground tomb- Max isn’t far behind her. When they get there, the behemoth of a dog is towering over Mahlon who is cowering in fear. Almost in slow motion, Azalea watches as the animal lowers its head, preparing to swallow her brother whole. She leaps down the stairs running full speed and she closes the distance just in time to get Mahlon out of the way but her leg is caught in the dog’s mouth and she’s lifted into the air.

“Cerberus!” Max yells as she grabs a hold of Mahlon and pushes him back toward the stairs, “Let Azalea go!”

To that, the monstrous canine only growls until Azalea rears back and kicks him in the muzzle with as much strength as she can muster. She goes crashing to the hard stone floor below landing on her back as Cerberus lets out a yelp.

“Yeah, that fuckin’ hurt dinnit!? Go lay down!” The freckled half-demon yells as she sits up and points over to the area near Lilith’s tomb. “Damn oversized mutt,” she grumbles as she stands and hobbles over to her girlfriend and brother, every pain receptor in her leg tingling like she was walking on pins and needles before she just loses feeling in it all together..

“Are you crazy!?” The blue-eyed human gives Azalea a horrified look, “Why’re you walking on that- your leg’s broken!”

“No, it ain’t. I’m fine, just a puncture wound from where his teeth got me.”

“The bone in your leg is sticking out…” Mahlon replied as his sister follows his gaze.

“Well shit, guess it is… I should probably do something about that, huh? Max can you-?”

“I’m not using healing magic to fix that- I’m not good with healing spells and I don’t want to mend your leg improperly. We’re going to the hospital and you can have it dealt with professionally.”

“God, you’re so dramatic.” Azalea sighs, “I’ll do it on myself then. Once I sit down, all you have to do is-“

“I’m not being dramatic, I-“

While Max and Azalea are fighting, Mahlon sneaks back up the stairs and gets a hold of his sister’s phone. Thankfully, it was unlocked. He scrolls through Azalea’s contacts and selects Mammon’s number out of the very small list.

It doesn’t take long for Mammon to answer seeing as they just happened to finish up the meeting.

“What’s up, ‘Zay? We just got done here so Mom and I’re gonna be on our way-“

“Daddy…”

“Mahlon? Bud, where’s your sister and why do you have her phone?”

“Th-there was an accident… she got bit by Cerberus and now she and Max are fighting cuz she doesn’t want to go to the hospital…”

“Alright, Mom and I are comin’ to get you guys. How badly did she get bit and where?” As the demon gets up, he attracts the attention of his brothers, his wife, and Lord Diavolo who were all giving him curious looks.

“Azalea got bit on the leg pretty badly by Cerberus..” the demon explains, “Okay, I’m gonna hang up now so I can focus on driving. Tell her we’re on our way and tell Max to make sure Azalea doesn’t walk on her leg.” After a brief exchange of goodbyes, the white-haired demon hangs up the phone before turning to face the rest of the group. “Luce, you’re probably gonna wanna go check on your dog, I don’t know what state he’s in right now.”

The Avatar of Pride only lets out a long, tired sigh as he stands and both Mammon and Arella take their leave.

“There’s never a dull moment in this family…”

*******************************

“Did I or did I not tell ya you weren’t supposed to hide in the underground tomb?” Azalea asks pointedly as she half-heartedly glares at Mahlon.

“You did…” Mahlon says as he looks away, “I’m sorry… thank you for saving me…”

“I didn’t do it for you… Mum and Dad would kill me if I let that mutt eat you. I was just looking out for myself so don’t go gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“Azalea!” Max looks up from her spot on the floor where she was attempting to bandage up the open puncture wounds and the half-demon’s leg where the bone wasn’t protruding.

“What? It’s true! He’s gotta hear it sometime.”

The young boy only climbs up next to his sister.

“Did ya have fun at least?”

“H-huh?”

“I said did ya have fun? For the first little bit, that is…”

Mahlon nods carefully but otherwise doesn’t say anything so Azalea abruptly stands.

“Well I’m glad ya had fun, we won’t be doin’ this again,” she says as stumbles and Max pushes her back onto the couch.

“Azalea, do not move. I’m serious. You’re going to make things worse for yourself.” The human huffs, her hands on her hips as she looks at the half-demon expectantly.

“Babe, I’m fine. Sure, the bone’s stickin’ out but only a little. Just let me cast a healin’ spell on myself ‘n I’ll be good as new. I’m the master at bone mendin’ spells.”

“For my sanity,” Max starts with a sigh, “I’m going to ignore that you’re implying to me that you’ve broken your bones so many times that you’ve gotten that good at fixing them. Also, I love you, but you’re a horrible spell caster.”

“It’s just a simple spell. I’ve done it a million times already.”

Before Max could say anything else, the front door opened and Arella walked in. Azalea quickly threw a blanket over her lap and outstretched leg.

“You’re not being sneaky, Sweetheart,” Arella says as she approached the couch. “Let me see your leg, please. Mahlon go get the bag you brought with you and go wait with your father in the car.”

“It’s fine, Mum. I don’t need to go to the hospital.” The black-and-white-haired teenager grumbles. “All I need is for someone to push the bone back into place and I can mend it myself.”

“Why can’t you just go to the hospital?” Max asks, “Why’re you so afraid to ask for help?”

“I ain’t scared of askin’ for help! And I sure as hell don’t need it! Why can’t any of y’all fuckin’ see that!” Azalea stands but her mother stops her.

“You have a bone sticking out of your leg, Darling. You need medical attention and this isn’t something you can take care of yourself.” The green-eyed human’s voice is stern. “You’re going to hospital whether you like it or not. Now, you have two choices, you can let Max and me help you out to the car or I can teleport us there directly, which will it be?”

The tanned half-demon stubbornly doesn’t reply as she waits for her mother out.

“Don’t make me start counting, Azalea,” Arella says sternly while she crosses her arm. “3…. 2…. 1….” The human takes a hold of her child’s wrist and casts the teleportation spell as the two disappear in the blink of an eye, landing in front of the car.

Arella opens the door for her and Azalea puts up a struggle in getting in. After about five minutes of this, Mammon gets out from the driver's side and has to lift the half-demon to even get her into the backseat, sliding in behind her so she wouldn’t attempt to open the door and roll out of the car. Arella hops in behind the wheel and adjusts the seat before taking off for the hospital.

*******************************

After a short but very hectic car ride where their daughter fought and struggled, Mammon was able to drag Azalea inside and she was taken back shortly after checking in. Unsure of how long the wait would be, Arella just took Mahlon home and would drive back down to get them once she got word that they were done. The examination and casting procedure was short and quick but Azalea turning combative meant she had to be strapped down for the process until she was calm enough to be released.

“This is stupid.” The seventeen-year-old growls. “They coulda at least let me go once they were done with me.”

“Well, ya know what they say: play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” Mammon says bluntly, not looking up from his phone. “Ain’t none of ‘em tryin’ to get punched or kicked in the face. Does your leg hurt?”

“No,” she told a half-truth- her leg didn’t hurt, but it also didn’t feel normal at the same time, “‘m fine.”

“Are ya lyin’ to me to appear tough?”

“No.” This time a blatant lie, “Everyone overreacted anyway. I coulda dealt with this myself.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Do you know how much bacteria is in that mutt’s mouth? The bite marks woulda got infected in no time.”

Azalea only rolled her eyes and scoffed, thinking about how much she liked it when it felt like he didn’t care, “Coulda dealt with that on my own too. I’da just gone to the doctor’s on my own if it got too bad. Why do you still treat me like I’m still some little kid? I don’t know what you ‘n Mum think but y’all ain’t gonna be around forever- you’ll kick the bucket at some point. I gotta learn ta take care of myself ‘n be self-sufficient.”

“‘Cuz you’re our daughter and despite how much you raise our blood pressure, we love you and don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Azalea is quiet. She doesn’t know what to say that won’t sound insensitive.

“Also, I owe you an apology for earlier this week. There’s no excuse for me not knowing that ya had a track meet this afternoon. Your Ma gave me an earful about it already..”

“I won’t forgive you. Not now, not ever… but for what it's worth, watchin’ the kid wasn’t that bad. He says he had fun. Don’t expect me ta do this again, I’m just sayin’ that it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it was gonna be.”

Mammon’s eyes widened as he finally looked up from his phone, “Huh? Can you repeat that- I don’t think I heard ya right the first time?”

“Not on your life,” she huffs, “clean the wax outta your damn ears next time.”

Just as Mammon’s about to speak, there’s a knock on the door and a nurse appears.

“Miss Morningstar, have you calmed down enough for us to release you from the restraints?”

“I ain’t gonna punch or kick ya if that’s what ya mean…”

“Azalea be nice, she’s only asking you a question..”

“Oh, no, it’s okay sir, I’ve had far more combative and belligerent patients than your daughter.” The female demon reassures him that she’s taken no offense to the half-demon’s words. “We’ll go ahead and unrestrain you then,” the nurse makes quick work of the binding, and Azalea pops up like a daisy in the springtime.

“That’s better,” the teen sighs as she rubs her wrists. “Can I go now? I wanna go home and sleep this off.”

“That’s fine, there’s not much else we can do for you. We filled a prescription for you for pain management. We gave you some medicine earlier but it should be wearing off shortly.”

“Huh,” she says, “‘s that why my leg feels numb right now?” And then she realizes too late that she shouldn’t have said that.

Both Mammon and the nurse’s eyes widened at that little tidbit Azalea had just dropped on them.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a tic, your leg is numb?” The white-haired demon arches a brow. “Why the hell are ya just dropping this on us now?”

“Okay, maybe numb isn’t the right word,” she backpedaled, “more like it’s tingling like my leg’s fallen asleep and I’ve got that weird feeling of pins or needles. I’m sure it’ll wear off eventually. Let’s just go home. I’m tired.”

“Numbness or lack of feeling in the leg could be a result of nerve damage from the bite,” the nurse mutters to herself as she turns to Mammon. “She’ll have to see a neurologist about that, unfortunately. We have one that we work with that I can give you a referral to.”

“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you! I said I was fine. I don’t need no stupid neurologist, there’s no nerve damage in my leg, everything is fine.” When she doesn’t get a response from either adult, the teen slides her way off the table and tries to sneak her way out.

“‘Zalea, what do you think you’re doing?” Mammon just happens to catch her movements out of his peripheral vision. “Do not walk on your leg. How hard is that to understand?” He getting fed up with the way she’s been acting.

“Well, how else am I s’pposed to get out of here? I just wanna go home.”

“We’re gonna go home after we get the referral just sit here,” he sat her down in the chair he had just been occupying, “and hold your horses. We’ll get ya a wheelchair in a minute.”

The half-demon grumbles something unintelligible as the adults continue their conversation.

You had such a great opportunity, why did you waste it? The thoughts that don’t feel like her own are back, You could have let Cerberus eat him and then gone about your day. It wouldn’t have been your fault. You did tell him not to go down into the underground tomb and he went down there anyway. He didn’t listen to you. Your parents wouldn’t have faulted you.

Azalea’s brought back to the present by a couple taps on the shoulder.

“You alright? Yer spacin’ out…”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” she shrugs and Mammon gives her a disbelieving look, “Look, I told ya I was tired, so of course, Imma be spacin’ out. I just wanna go home, okay?”

“Alright, Alright. Yeesh,” Mammon pulls the wheelchair over to his daughter and offers her a hand but she knocks it away.

“I can do it myself- don’t baby me.”

“Fine, do it yourself,” the demon steps back as he lets out a sigh, and Azalea is able to situate herself in the wheelchair and rolls herself out toward the entrance with Mammon following close behind her. Arella was waiting for them.

“So good news” she starts as the pair arrive, “I did some rummaging around at home and I was able to find my adjustable crutches from that time I fell down the stairs at R.A.D. and broke my ankle. The bad news-if you can even call it that, is that I wasn’t sure which notch to set it up to but we can always play with the settings and see what works best for you. Now, do you want help getting into the car or would you like to attempt it yourself?”

“Finally, someone who’ll let me do something on my own,” Azalea lets out a sigh of relief. “Yes, I want to try on my own.”

“Alright,” the human nods as she stands aside as her daughter gets herself into the car without much difficulty. “Are you all buckled in, Dear? Can I shut the door?”

Azalea only gives her a thumbs up and Arella closes the door as she and Mammon get in and head home.

*******************************

End

[softzcl]

wee hours painting - huang renjun

• pairing: huang renjun x self-insert (gender neutral) • genre: light fluff • length: one-shot (1.6k words) • au: muse!renjun; painter!reader

The lack of illumination brought a serene ambiance over the room. The only light source was your bedside lamp, its yellow light very reminiscent of a tea light. A soft whirring, emitted from the air conditioning, was a welcomed white noise that served the silence in the room. The remaining jasmine tea in the teapot had long gone cold, placed on the coffee table along with two emptied porcelain teacups from your favourite tea set that was gifted to you by your crockery loving grandmother, apparently a family heirloom.

The previously heated back and forth dwindled into soft, whispered murmurs until they, too, died down to silence as a sleepy haze came over the two of you.

Now Renjun was fast asleep, the previous long talk about ghosts and aliens completely tiring him out not only mentally but also physically. You were still awake but you didn’t mind one bit that he wasn’t.

The view was something you felt was to commit to memory - the boy, completely at peace with himself and the world, was soundly asleep on the right side of the bed, next to you.

In repose, he was such a sight to behold; gone was the often cynical smile bestowed upon his lips due to his unapologetic flamboyant nature, instead replaced by his pouted lips, slightly parted as he breathed out in soft, quiet exhales. His wondrous eyes, usually glinting with thoughts of mischief, were now closed, eyebrows relaxed. His long, curled lashes fanned out like butterfly wings and cast shadows upon the tops of his cheeks, courtesy of the old lamp perched on the nightstand at your bedside.

Due to his incessant tossing and turning in bed, his usually kept hair had bundled in a curly mess. Some of his unruly locks had matted down to his forehead while tuffs of hair at the crown of his head had been ruffled, now remaining sticking up as he pressed the right side of his face to his pillow, cheek mashed into the bedding.

His appearance was reminiscent of an angel like he had just jumped out of a Raffaello painting and found his way into your bedroom. A divine deity holding such a celestial beauty that had graced you with its presence, even if it was while unconscious.

The urge to reach your hand forward and caress his cheek, pet his hair, place feather light kisses on his eyelids was almost irresistible. To savor him in all of his unfiltered, unadulterated, raw beauty. However, you certainly did not have the heart to wake him up so you kept your hands to yourself, instead choosing upon a different route.

You wouldn’t say Renjun had ever been particularly responsible for a strike of artistic inspiration in you in the form of a muse. Usually, you either collected inspiration in your surroundings, wandering around nature or in accidental compositions you stumbled upon or unintentionally created yourself; seldom did you paint portraits, a good paysage or a nature morte was much more your cup of tea.

Still, the image of Renjun in his tranquil sleep ignited a spark in your imagination and your increasing urge to paint reached a pinnacle as you emerged from the bed, praying hotly that it would spare you one of its very bothersome creaks that resulted from even a little shift of weight. Renjun, surrounded by your linen sheets and pillows as if he was an angel settled in between white clouds, was an image that a simple polaroid picture with your instant camera would just not do any justice.

You were extremely fortunate to have a few canvases that were primed and ready for painting on hand, propped against the wall, next to the dresser. Mentally, you sent out a message of gratitude to the past version of your own self for not slacking off for once and actually stretching your canvases, applying a few layers of gesso and sanding them in between so you had a smooth, cotton surface to start sketching on quickly. It would have been a great deal of work and shuffle to get out your supplies to ready your canvases for paint on the spot. Not only did the glue emit fumes you wouldn’t want to risk inhaling in the poorly ventilated room, but sanding would have created a considerable amount of noise and commotion to stir your boyfriend awake in an instant.

Grabbing your wooden palette and palette knife along with a few synthetic brushes, you settled them down on your nightstand before carefully dragging over your easel with great effort as to make as little noise as possible. After that, you rapidly dashed to the living room and brought back one of the wooden stools you purchased a few months back when the two of you first moved into the condo. You decided that with the minimal amount of sleep you’d be getting the next couple of hours and your still sleepy state of mind you’d rather paint seated.

Collecting a few elongated and sharpened pieces of charcoal, you settled onto the wooden stool, knowing that in just a short while its hard surface will become near unbearably uncomfortable for your poor bottom. Over the course of the several years you had spent majoring in fine arts your back had acquired a natural slouch to it, especially when positioned sitting down. Your boyfriend would scold you about it an awful lot and rightfully so, too; “I wouldn’t want you limping around like an old person when you’re in your mid-thirties!”

Starting off with light strokes of charcoal, you began setting down the general placement of his body on the canvas. You commenced with a broad circle that would become his head, then connecting a sweeping line that would represent the curvature of his spine as he remained still in his slumber, calmly sleeping on his stomach. Then came the slope of his neck, connecting to his shoulder in a narrow parabola, and the planes of his slightly protruding shoulder blades, rising and falling with each intake and exhale of breath as he hugged tightly the pillow which his head laid upon.

The finishing touches of the sketch were the formation of his torso and ribs, and the dip in his lower back where the hastily drawn sheets had pooled in. You pulled back, observing the foundations of the budding piece of artwork and compared it to the portrait’s subject. You then quickly went back in to draw in the pillow, thankful for the fact that half of his forearms and his hands were hidden underneath it, as you hadn’t quite mastered the structure and shading behind painting human hands; as mentioned, anatomically correct human portrait paintings weren’t exactly your forte.

Meanwhile, Renjun was as still as ever, breathing leveled and visage completely serene.

After putting away the charcoal and an essential cleaning of the black residue off your hands, you were finally ready to lay down colour. You felt as if there was an almost tangible tingle in your fingertips when you grabbed the palette and started putting down paint onto it from the cold tin tubes.

First, you put down a generous amount of white on the wood as your base colour, followed by an almost equal sized dollop of ochre, a little bit of black and some light yellow, a smear of taupe and tan along with some tawny tones, as well as some browns, beiges, and a smidgen of olive green. The rest you figured you could mix in the process.

The air conditioning was blowing gentle wafts of warm air, billowing the sheer voile curtains so some of the pleats caressed your back through the thin nightshirt you were donning. It lulled you into a state of complete ataraxia and ease, as you glided your brush over the canvas in fluid strokes to create the wrinkles of the sheets or in staccato motions when creating the ruffles of his hair and the imagery of clouds in the background. Periodically, you would pause to mull over the painting, mix in additional colours or cease your work to assimilate or reconsider your approach to a part of the painting currently in the works.

Painting Renjun was truly an experience; you got to take in his beauty in much more detail, further acknowledge how undeniably magnificent he was in such a vulnerable state, be able to understand and appreciate each nook and cranny, each delicate feature of his with much more vigor. The way muscle and bone moved underneath smooth skin with every twitch or movement, the wonderful rich shades of his freshly died honey coloured hair, the shadows that fell upon his face and the highlights the lamp produced upon his skin - it was pleasure to even try your hand at reproducing that on the canvas perched on the easel before you. And the final result of your attempt did not disappoint.

With an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, you put away the tubes of oil paint and cleaned the remains off your brushes and palette while you let your painting dry in a secluded corner of the room before you would cover with a cloth.

Your unrest eyes were heavy with the need for well-deserved sleep as you stretched out the knots in your neck and cracked your joints. The night was slowly easing into an early morning; a few hours of sleep could only do you good, you thought as you slowly crawled back to your respectful side of the shared bed. Your blankets had long gone cold but it was the last thing on your mind. At the forefront was the welcoming embrace of sleep that was slowly pulling you closer to dreamland. Just as you were about to nod off an arm slung over your midriff and pulled your clothed back closer to a warm chest. Your barely present consciousness distantly acknowledged Renjun burying his face in the joint of your neck and shoulder before the sweet embrace of sleep finally took over you.

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[winterscaptain]

inherited.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this popped into my head fully formed. when i thought too hard about it, i cried. It’s sweet. enjoy! tell me what you think! this takes place in au!october 2022

words: 2k warnings: language, tooth-rotting fluff

summary: “i don’t have stepchildren, i have children who happened to be born before i met them.” – unknown

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You’re laid out flat on the bed, tooling around on your phone, when Jack comes in, gets a running start, and flops onto the bed beside you. His feet hang off the opposite side yours do, your heads close together. 

Elliot and the girls are napping the early afternoon away, Jack had an early-release day from school, Aaron’s taking a half-day, and Isaac’s still stuck on that 750-piece puzzle on your office floor. You left one of the baby monitors in the nursery and one with him, just in case. The faint, staticky sound of him talking to himself grumbles through the little speaker on Aaron’s bedside table.

Jack doesn’t say anything, but pulls his phone out and starts doing whatever newly-minted seventeen-year-olds do on his phone beside you. 

You, on the other hand, need to take care of an email from Aaron.

To: hotchner2@fbi.justice.gov From: hotchner@fbi.justice.gov

CC: prentiss@fbi.justice.gov

SSA Hotchner, 

See attached for your quarterly performance evaluation from your supervisor, BAU Unit Chief SSA Emily Prentiss, cc’d here. Please direct any questions or concerns to SSA Prentiss. 

Best, SSA Aaron Hotchner, J.D. Northeast Investigations and Operations Support Section Chief Quantico, VA

P.S. Leaving the office in 30. See you soon xx

You draft a quick reply and send it. 

To: hotchner@fbi.justice.gov From: hotchner2@fbi.justice.gov

Received. 

Thanks, Hotch. 

Best, SSA _______ Hotchner Behavioral Analysis Unit, Quantico, VA

P.S. Come in quietly thru the garage - C, S, E are still out.

With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone down and take a moment to look at Jack. 

He’s nearly a man, the baby fat falling from his jaw and cheekbones, getting taller by the day. Much to Aaron’s chagrin, they’re about the same height now. 

Jack’s eyes flicker from his phone and meet yours for a split second. “What?”

“Just lookin’ at you.”

A little puff of a laugh leaves his nose. “Why?”

One side of your mouth lifts. “I know you’re tired of hearing this, but if you ever have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” 

He hums, tossing his phone onto the pillow behind him. “Well, yeah. I got that, but why?”

You roll onto your side, curling your legs fully onto the bed. It’s a good question, and one for which you’re not sure you have an answer. Thinking for a moment, you sigh. “So, with you, for example. I can’t really put it into words, but you’re a bit of a miracle.” 

He squints (just like Aaron) and you continue. 

“I have the privilege of being your mom, which is a title that isn’t really mine.” You tuck the inside of your lip between your teeth, trying to figure out how to articulate it. 

It’s not that I don't want to be your mom but in the world where I’m not your mom, Haley is still here.

But there are some days I miss her so much I wish I didn’t have to be your mom. She was always going to be ‘mom.’

But then it’s the best thing in the world to be your mom and I wouldn’t want it any other way…

Fuck. 

You start slow. “It’s a bit of a bittersweet thing. I never expected to be ‘mom’ to you while Haley was alive. No matter what would have or could have happened between your dad and me, Haley is your mom. So, the knowledge that we’re here - you and I, in this house with your brothers and sisters and your dad, the way we are - is very much grounded in Haley’s absence.” 

You shake your head, realizing you’re getting off topic. “All this to say, it’s a bit of a miracle that I get to be your mom, and not just mom to those other little gremlins infesting this house.” 

You both smile. 

“And sometimes, I just need to stare at you, make sure you’re real, and sit in that kind of...feeling that I can’t quite articulate.” 

Jack’s been listening the whole time, his brown eyes soft and open. “I think I get that. It makes sense - even if you and Dad still got married and had more kids, Haley would be ‘Mom’ and you would be...something else.” 

You smile a little. “I guess you could say I inherited the title, in some ways.” 

“That’s a good way to put it.” His eyes wander up to the ceiling, pensive. 

“You know, I can’t remember a time when you weren’t around. Like, not every memory has you in it because you weren’t always there, but...there isn’t a single, like, phase of my life when you weren’t in it.” 

It's your turn to listen. 

“And I don’t remember my mother very well. You and Dad always made sure I knew who she was - I feel like I know everything about her, but like…” He trails off for a second before looking back at you. “She still feels like a stranger, a little bit.” 

You nod. “Someone distant, maybe?”

“Yeah. Like I feel connected to her and everything but you’re my mom. You’ve always been that person for as long as I can remember. I can’t imagine anything else.” He shakes his head a little. “It wouldn’t be right to call you anything else.”

A shaky breath leaves you through your mouth, unexpected tears springing into your eyes. Since you’re on the deep end of the conversation pool, you switch gears a little. “Is it ever weird? Having the little ones around? Your dad and I having more kids?” 

He immediately shakes his head. “Nah. I can really remember when it was just the two of us - me ‘n Dad - and then then three of us after that one Christmas. But I don’t really miss it? Like, sometimes it gets so fucking loud in this house -”

“Language,” you chastise. It’s weak, at best. 

He snorts, revising. “Sometimes, it gets really loud in this house and I have those moments of like, ‘oh my god why are they so loud why can’t it just be me and Mom and Dad again,’ but they never last long.” He laughs a little. “Like right now, they’re just in the other room napping and I miss them.” 

“You know when you laugh like that you look just like your mother?”

That sunshine smile breaks across his face again. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You reach out to him, brushing the apple of his cheek with the side of your finger - just a second, just an affectionate little bit of contact. His smile gets wide enough that you’re treated to one dimple. “But those,” you poke the little indent by the corner of his mouth and he screws his face up. “Those are all your dad’s.”

Jack grows pensive again. “Dad said he’d tell me about the divorce if I wanted to ask.” 

Many of your conversations bounce around like this. Fifteen years of life together make up for seemingly contextless non-sequiturs. You know, just like you do with Aaron, he has more to say. 

You wait him out.

“If I asked, would you tell me?”

With a sigh, “I can tell you how it was for me as their friend, but I won’t speak for Dad or Haley.” 

Jack nods, understanding. “What was it like? Like, the...actual divorce? Did you get caught in the middle?”

“It sucked. It really sucked, but no, I never got caught up in it that way. Sure, they vented to me about each other after it was all over - which,” you add, “by the way, was its own form of comedy.” 

That gets a smile out of Jack.

“But they never asked me to tell them they were right or made me feel like I had to choose a side. I would have hated to become a carrier pigeon for their bullshit.” With a chuckle: That’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Ah yeah, miscommunication as a plot device. We covered that in English last semester.” 

You laugh. “Exactly. Even then, though, they loved each other so much and they both tried their hardest to make it work, but couldn’t.” 

Jack’s thinking again, looking more and more pressed by the minute as he stares at the ceiling. 

“What?” You ask. 

“I just -” His mouth presses into a thin line, revealing a dimple, and you thank your lucky stars you love Aaron as much as you do because right now, you’re looking at his clone. “I just...I’m trying to think of something that could, like, break you and Dad up...but I literally can’t think of anything. You guys just work.” 

He’s thinking out loud, finding the question as he goes. You let him. “Even as mad as you get at each other sometimes, I’ve never been afraid. Even when you’re upset with each other you’re still...I dunno...like, two parts of the same person?” He shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, my love, it does. Your father and I…” 

You sigh, knowing you’re exposing yourself for the person you are, instead of hiding behind your role as a parent.

“...we need each other too much, perhaps to a fault. He’s my favorite person and my biggest weakness. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for him, and I know he’s the same way about me.” You pause. “We don’t really know how not to be a team.”

Jack’s seen that in them almost all his life. It doesn't surprise him. He’s not sure he believes in soulmates, but he’d imagine you and Aaron are pretty damn close. 

His mouth twists. “I’d imagine a lot of people feel that way until the shit hits the fan.” 

You nod, your head wavering from side to side. “Well...yeah. Not everyone feels that way about their spouse, though.”

“Sure,” he relents, looking a bit like a lawyer. “But if they do, how do you get to that place where you call it quits, you know? How do you decide you don’t need each other or love each other? And how do you know who’s wrong?”

Good question. 

“I mean, it’s less about who’s wrong, and more about who’s right that causes all the trouble, I think, at least from an outside perspective. With your parents, they were both right in a lot of ways.”

You think for a minute, changing directions a bit. “When there are two right answers that are mutually exclusive, there’s not much you can do. Nobody’s wrong - everyone just wants what they want, and there isn’t a clear compromise. Sometimes, the compromise is too much...So, you can still love each other but not be married, like your dad and Haley.” 

“Your mom left,” you continue, “because she reached a breaking point. Her needs and your dad’s needs were mutually exclusive - no compromise existed. And, again, in a lot of ways, they were both right.” 

You shrug, admitting, “They both made bad choices and mistakes in that process, but nobody was the bad guy. In some ways, that’s harder. You love them, but you can’t have them in your life in that way.”

His face clears up. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. Like, I’m thinking about friends and stuff - how some friends are really great outside of school but I would never want to do a group project with them - but for...you know, marriage.” 

You laugh. “Yeah, it’s a lot like that. And you were just about the only thing your parents could agree on at any given time.” 

“Really?”

“Yep. They love you, and always want what’s best for you.” Your eyes flicker to the photo on Aaron’s dresser - the one of you and Haley and Jack nearly fifteen years ago, sandwiching his cheeks in kisses. “When you’re a good parent with that kind of mindset, it’s easy to work as a team for your children.”

“Like you and Dad.” 

“Like me and Dad.” 

Jack quiets for a minute. “Can I tell you something?”

You turn toward him, reaching kind of up and away for his hand. Your clasped fingers end up between your faces. “Always, my love.”

“Sometimes...Sometimes, I wish I looked more like you.” 

Your brow pinches. “Why?” The question is soft, all curiosity. 

“I dunno? I think I just like, want to resemble you because you’re my mom, you know?”

You let out a laugh. “Jack you have no idea. You should ask your father how much you resemble me.”

He shakes his head, a confused little smile on his face. “I don’t get it.” 

“You have picked up eighty percent of my mannerisms and it drives your dad up the wall.” You sit up, releasing his hand and ruffling his soft dark hair as you pretzel-cross your legs. “So if we’re going by his book, you inherited plenty from me. In fact, more than enough.”

“Alright, see, now that makes sense.” Jack sits up across from you right as the door from the garage opens. 

You both wait, quiet, with little smiles on your faces, listening to his car keys hit the kitchen counter (and slide a little - he tossed them), the short walk to his office where he sets his briefcase down and removes his suit jacket (to be hung up later, if he remembers). You can hear him travel to your office, checking on Isaac and looking for you, before taking the stairs two at a time to the baby’s room. 

Jack looks over his shoulder and you follow his gaze, tuned into the baby monitor. There’s a shaky kind of sigh that crackles through the speaker, and you can almost see him reaching into the crib. 

“If he wakes that baby up,” you say, dead serious, “I’ll kill him.”

Jack sniffs, all business. “I’ll grab the shovel and trash bags and you drive, yeah?”

You offer your hand. Jack shakes on it before dissolving into a fit of conspiratorial giggles. He falls into you, turning so his back is against your chest and his head tipped back against your shoulder.

It’s moments like this where he feels five years old again. 

As big as he is and as much of a shit as he can be, he’s still the same boy.  

The pair of you are so caught up in your own private joke that you don’t hear Aaron as he crosses the house and leans on the door jamb. When you both catch sight of him, it only makes you laugh harder. You wrap your arms around Jack, trapping him close to you as you hook your chin over his shoulder. 

He’s examining you both, brow a little furrowed, mouth a little open in an almost-smile. He’s seen the Mom and Jack Show before - it’s a series that started about ten years ago with about a thousand episodes and no cancellation in sight. “What on earth are you two doing in here?”

Jack drops into a deadpan. “Hypothetically plotting your demise for the hypothetical instance that you hypothetically wake Elliot and hypothetically deprive Mom of her hypothetical peace and quiet.”

Aaron nods, as if deeply considering it. “I see. Well, luckily, we’ve narrowly avoided that hypothetical scenario.”

You smile at him. “So thus, you live another day. Congratulations.” 

Aaron breaks with a smile, his commitment to the bit evaporating in the presence of two of his favorite faces. He toes off his shoes and crosses to you both, still all wrapped up and letting little laughs escape. He kisses Jack on the head and you lightly on the lips before flopping down on his back with a satisfied sigh.

You share a devious glance with Jack. Aaron throws a pillow over his face, his voice muffled. 

“Yeah, alright, you two. That’s enough.” 

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @spencerelds @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43

[jae-canikeepyou]

| letting go | j.jh

pair: jaehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst (i don’t think it’s enough ;-; )

a/n: weeee this was rotting in my drafts for months, it’s not proof read (as always) haha :D

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

the strong rush of winds together with falling sharp raindrops were painful, as if multiple arrows were aimed at you by a number of huntsmen— hiding behind woods, camouflaging themselves in order to not reveal their positions.

at this point, the droplets rather felt like hailstones than water. well what difference did it make? they still sliced your flesh like knives even if they were the condensed and frozen forms of liquid.

just as your body froze when you saw him with her.

almost the whole crowd turned heads to your way. looking back, the entire picturesque looked exactly like a bride entering a chapel for her walk at the aisle, except what happened earlier was the total opposite. it looked like you objected the bind of the new couple because believe it or not, whispers from all directions grew and there wasn’t an end to them. they spread so quickly that you didn’t bother to stop them.

you stood right in front of your boyfriend, right at the middle of the dance floor, whom he had his arms around a girl’s waist. to make you respond negatively and hurtfully, his fingers intertwined, not wanting to let her away from his touch.

in the depths of your heart, you hoped he would release her and run towards you in regret of his actions. but given the fact that they continued to sway along with the music like you never existed, it was obvious he was deliberately trying to make you flip off. sober or not, you already familiarised yourself with his habits and mannerisms in the years you’ve been with him. the smirk growing at the girl’s lips confirmed it was her plan, while the look on jaehyun’s face mirrored hers.

he was in for the game he wanted to play.

these whole three years, was there a day he thought about you, cared for you, or even loved you? did you actually mean anything to him? for him to easily leave you with another? the club music began to soften, not because everyone witnessed what was going on, but because your hearing was slowly deafening from the revelation before you. what you experienced at that moment; as if you were shoved underwater and let you drown in your fears of a breaking relationship.

it was breaking now, and you’re breaking apart now.

“jaehyun?” the once dear name left your lips and you stood there frozen. his shirt disheveled from the collarbone downwards along with a stupid missing vans shoe you gifted him for the anniversary a week ago. “you said you were going to..” you hissed, and swallowed the words back to avoid giving hints of sadness. “..nevermind.”

the girl snaked her arms around his neck. “oh y/n, finish your sentence.” she was high, her words slurred but was sober enough to pay attention to you. “that would mark as a closure with him, won’t it?” her giggles shrieking in amusement. what a sadist.

“ignore her. now, where were we?” jaehyun cupped her jaw to turn her attention away from you.

it took a minute or less to realise that your fists balled at his naughty, flirtatious grin he put out. you knew your skin already was dented with crescent marks you didn’t bother checking. with courage— the hesitating kind, you walked up to him to confirm your doubts that has been clouding your mind since you last saw him. the girl rolled her eyes, irritated at the fact you were quite persistent. jaehyun did the same. “so you’re just gonna dump me like that?” you pushed him on the chest.

“if you want to hear my answer, i can say it.” jaehyun gestured the girl to leave the both of you. “give us a minute.” he shoved his hands in his pockets to grab an item. it was a watch you got for him in the first year. thinking that he was to give it back, apparently, you thought wrong.

the silver watch fell to the ground with his gaze slowly rising from it to you. “i’m pretty much sober, but i was drunk when i agreed to be your boyfriend.”

“lies.” you gritted your teeth, not buying anything that came from his lips. “telling me you’re lying!”

“it’s the truth, y/n.” jaehyun said. it pissed you off when he had the audacity to bring your hair behind your ear, as if that would make you believe him. he lightly touched the edge of your chin, bringing it closer to his face. you shut your eyes hoping that this was all a dream, but it clearly wasn’t. “it’s all one-sided. it’s easy to understand by now yeah? i don’t love you.”

“jaehyun!” the girl singsonged as she returned, pulling him with impatience. “let’s go?”

you felt your throat going dry seeing both of their figures getting smaller in the distance. you couldn’t afford to be more mad because you knew that if you did, jaehyun still would never return to you. he already enjoyed the sight of you hurting, so what much more if you reacted to his plan? the long-term plan he plotted against a relationship he was to tear apart anyway?

the heart of yours that once pounded vigorously for him now probably skipped a beat or two, or more because you couldn’t keep track in counting. you just couldn’t. everything and all else in your peripheral began to blur in your own tears. and glad they did.

sometimes you’d like to think your heart had a mind of its own. it summoned your legs to leave the place when your mind was already completely blank, and you didn’t realise that you made yourself look vulnerable and desperate to everyone in that house.

even so, no one dared to come to comfort you despite knowing who you were: jaehyun’s now ex-girlfriend. they watched all of it happen like they do with most tv series. maybe they didn’t want to get involved with the drama. the rain started to pour and that was when you gave in into the depression you’ve held inside in the span of three minutes. great timing. no one would know i’m crying now. leave him be y/n.

walking towards home from here was better than taking a bus, you’d probably embarrass yourself. and grabbing a taxi would’ve been convenient, but most vehicles were occupied or drivers wouldn’t take in customers due to finished shifts. the only thing protecting you from the rain was your endurance and patience.

you continued running; away from the source of pain, escaping to wherever your half-conscious state brings you. you weren’t close to home yet.

what felt like hours only made your body temperature drop to its lowest.

a car pulled over just when your legs were to give in. you were in a daze that you weren’t aware of the vehicle honking at you. so the flickers of the headlights did the job better. the window rolled down that the person inside let out a gasp.

the slam of the door had you turning around. voices battling each other and it was surprising you could hear them bickering so clearly under the intense rainfall and loud thunderstorms. “give me a second! it’s y/n and she’s soaked!”

that certain voice warmed the freezing you which jaehyun caused. you turned around to see yuta, your best friend, removing his coat, quickly wrapping over your heads and led you straight into his car. “why are you out here alone?! where’s jaehyun?! is he not with you?!” he tsked, telling ten to drive back to the apartment.

between your sobs you let out a bitter and husky scoff, not wanting to hear or associate yourself with that name ever again. taeyong let you wear his scarf and lend you pocket warmers to add more body heat. “o-one..” you mumbled. “i-it was one-sided. he never l-loved me.”

your friends exchanged looks and were so ready to go to the bar where jaehyun was at, to beat the pulp out of him. “that bastard— ten, turn around! i’m beating the crap out of jaehyun!”

“n-no! please!” you hugged yuta and he froze at your plead. “it’ll cause more trouble than he already is!”

“y/n he wasted three years of your time just to play with your feelings!” yuta tried to see the bar behind the moist and droplets on the window. “and i won’t allow anyone to hurt you when he’s the trouble!”

your palms covered your eyes long as you tried to explain. “but he made his word and you know he’s the type to bring in more trouble! he has people on his back and you’re outnumbered..”

“y/n’s right, yuta. we can’t afford to fight all of them.” taeyong pat your head.

yuta slammed his clenched fists on the edge along with fits of his legs. “rgh!”

you were afraid of jaehyun leaving you, yet your bestfriend gave you the most fear since it wasn’t the first time he clashed with your lover. he was against the relationship, that you began dating an enemy of their frat and that it was risky. he warned you that they both had quite a rough history and would for sure have each other’s heads if they were to meet again.

and because your cries led to this, yuta was sure he wouldn’t let his once bestfriend near you.

ten suddenly stepped on the brakes followed with a yelp. slight screeches from the tires had everyone going forwards before hitting backs against the seats. “oh my g- is he dead?” kun sat up a little to see the figure trying to get up.

“who?” taeyong’s eyes widened.

“i think it was jaehyun.” ten pulled a lever to stop the windscreen wiper.

“ha! he deserved it!” yuta’s grin was menacing and chilled you to the bone, but you understood his reasons. and you were an idiot to not able to notice the relationship falling out until the last minute.

jaehyun yelled out your name several times, asking you to get off the car. you didn’t want to because what was the point? he didn’t love you so why did he want you back now? he was crying, but he could be drunk too.

when that wasn’t enough for jaehyun to get to you, he opened the car door, in which, wasn’t locked and managed to grab hold of yuta’s arm out of the vehicle, pulling you along with him out in the rain. “get back here y/n! you’re not going with yuta!” jaehyun yelled as he made you stand on your toes.

“she’s not going with you! jerk!” yuta quickly punched him in the face, causing jaehyun to fall.

you jumped in front of him, stopping yuta from more violence. “yuta please!”

but jaehyun punched him too. back and forth of fist fights.

taeyong and kun got off the car to join you prevent yuta. “dude quit it! let’s just bring y/n home!”

you pushed your way through and passed the boys, eyes asking your bestfriend to calm down. “y/n what the hell are you doing?! he’s drunk!” yuta grabbed your wrists. “why are you still going to talk to him?”

“i’m not doing this for him, i’m doing this for me.” you sniffed and the seriousness in your eyes made yuta let go. “i just need to make things clear to him one last time.”

“you’re stubborn but i’ll credit you for being brave. give you five ‘cause i’m counting.”

you didn’t care about getting sick. all you could think of was to bid that final farewell. it hurt when he wrapped you in his arms as if what happened earlier was nothing to him. as if breaking your heart was his cup of tea. “what do you want jaehyun?”

he mumbled. reeking of the remains of alcohol, you couldn’t stand him anymore. “i want you.”

“well i don’t.” you wriggled out of his hold. “i went out of my way to tell you to stay out of my life.”

he stared at you. it was different than before. he didn’t do this on purpose. three years with him was enough to know his moves and this was one of those that he was attentive now. “i still love—”

“no!” you sobbed and struggled to catch your breath, soon pushing his shoulder and though he didn’t budge, he probably got the message. “don’t start with that word! for all i care you could be the all-star player girls love— but you’re never ever going to win my heart again! you don’t even love me to begin with and you said it yourself!”

you brushed him as jaehyun tried to reach out for you. “how many trophies have you kept on your shelf, hm? i’d say five.. ah, twenty?” you stifle a sarcastic laugh. “am i one of the trophies you desperately want to get? how about that girl you’re with? is she part of the collection too?”

he stayed quiet, and you expected this anyway. “i’ll never be enough for you. goodbye jae.” you sighed.

jaehyun saw that yuta was already waiting. he had you in his arms, giving the middle finger at him before you both entered the car. it wasn’t that you fell short, it was him. indeed it was true that you were a prize he achieved, but even all-star players had their insecurities too. he just didn’t share with you, rather he chose not to.

because what would he get in return? just a little word of encouragement would make him feel better? no, of course not. he didn’t want that and you couldn’t give what he wanted from you. the car vanished in the distance.

so did your peripheral when you looked back.

some reason, you felt better. the company of your friends now were better than jaehyun, in all the three years combined.

“hey, y/n. you didn’t take five minutes.” yuta nudged you lightly. “he’s not worth it.”

you fell silent as you deleted a picture of jaehyun posing with his watch from a year ago. tears brimmed your eyes but you promised yourself just now to never cry because of him. “i’m gonna sleep. wake me up when we arrive home.”

yeah. you counted as well. it took three years to realise how dumb you actually were and how jaehyun wasn’t the person you knew but..

it took three minutes to decide to let him go.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

_

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

_

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

[writings-of-a-narwhal]

title ➳ and the moon sets

status ➳ brainstorming & drafting 

pov ➳ third person

genre ➳ fantasy

warnings ➳ war, blood, death, manipulation, self-destructive behavior, unhealthy relationships, ect.

setting ➳ yamatochi; a mountainous country based off of sengoku era japan

synopsis  ➳

At fourteen years old, Neoma Takeda is taken from her desolate home in the mountains and taken to the Clan she is the heir of; the Takeda Clan, a force that was once one of the largest in the war that has wreaked through Yamatochi for generations. With no real-world experience and no knowledge of what war is actually like, plans are put into place for her to enter into a political marriage to protect the territories of the Clan and the Clan itself. However, when it’s discovered that the young woman is a dragonheart everything changes.

No longer will be she used just as a piece in the game of politics, but she will be exactly what the Takeda Clan needs to not only survive but reclaim their place as a powerful force in this conflict and potentially win the war. 

Naïve, the young lord does as what’s asked of her; after all, she’s just a child, she hasn’t a clue what it means to be a warlord or lead a battle. As the years wear on, she is constantly at war. Fighting enemies, fighting her mind, fighting her body, fighting her allies and those closest to her. There is no rest for the wicked, they say, and she is the cruelest of them all.

Down this path of endless bloodshed and death and darkness, how can there be any hope for the sun to rise on a world where there’s peace?

excerpt  ➳

The air in the council room is stifling, especially for the girl who sits in the very center of the room upon the dais. Dark colors swirl in the air around her; the colors of decaying flowers and rotting corpses. She shifts, stares out the open shoji doors, and watches the courtyard beyond. How she longs to be back in her childhood home, in the wild mountainous forest where the wind was always blowing and cutting through her in such an exhilarating manner. The only breeze she gets now comes when she has a sword in her hand.

"A number of months ago," a low and smooth voice captures her attention and that of all in the room, "our Lord Genkei Takeda passed. We all thought our lives were to fall apart without our Lord to follow, but just a few weeks later we met the heir of the clan."

The man -- Isao is his name, the one who has tended to all her needs since she arrived here -- looks at her with a smile that seems to reach his eyes, or is that a trick of the light? Smiling is not in his nature nor does it look natural on his face.

"The granddaughter of our former Lord; Neoma Takeda, the only blood of the Takeda line, the lifeline for our Clan. The gods have blessed us with you, my Lord. The day we met you, our fates changed for the better, for we have been able to continue our service to the Takeda family and in this war."

Neoma almost flinches, biting down on her tongue and curling her hands into tight fists in order to resist the urge to do so. Chest tightening, flashes of fighting flicker in front of her eyes and the scent of blood fills her nose.

It was just to be a small battle; one to give her a taste of what was to come, one to give her a chance to practice with the sword she had been given, one to show her what her life was to be. It wasn't supposed to be brutal...

But the emotions of all the soldiers on either side of the battlefield were too much for her, they choked her as a snake does the rabbit that falls victim to them, and a fear so strong came over her that she couldn't hold it in, she couldn't hold anything in.

Burning worse than any flame that has touched her skin before ran through her veins as her own blood. Silver brighter than the best of metals coursed through the air like lightning. A low grumble rattled the earth beneath their feet and cracked the ground. All those upon the field died, friend and foe alike. Only the ones within the boundaries of the camps were left breathing. 

At least for a short while, anyway. For while Neoma had collapsed to the ground, crying, screaming, choking for air, Isao sent out an order, one she wasn’t supposed to hear but his words still echo in her ears.

"Track them all down. Whoever has seen anything -- no matter if they are our enemy or not -- kill them without hesitation."

With a jerk, Neoma forces herself back to the present. Sickness swirls in her stomach and she can't bear to look at any in the room with her, especially not Isao as he continues to speak about gods know what. It's bad enough that their gazes -- ones of pity and expectation and so many other damned emotions that make her skin prickle and cause colors to dance in front of her eyes -- bore into her relentlessly. Shouldn't they be watching the one speaking rather than her? 

Reaching into the sleeve of her kimono with a shaky hand, she searches for just a moment, and a scaly head comes under her half-numb fingers. A short burst of comfort comes over her, lasting just a breath, but it's enough for now. Having her dragon there at her fingertips to act as a support when no one else can means more than anything else in the world.

"Lord Takeda."

Her eyes snap toward Isao and narrow on him ever so slightly. The sick feeling in her stomach grows stronger, bile creeping from her stomach up to her throat. 

"You are our hope in these troubling times." Isao gives a certain look with those dark eyes, a look she can come to associate with things that are not exactly good and kind. "We are all looking forward to fighting alongside you and reigning victorious."

You are our hope.

Those words choke what little breath she had out of her lungs. Forcing a smile, Neoma gives a respectful nod. Thankfully, from there the food and drink is brought in and she doesn’t have to speak. The attention of most is turned away from her and toward the food and each other as the vassals gossip and theorize. 

Alone on the dais, Neoma doesn't go to eat or drink, even as the maids bring in tea and a variety of foods for her to eat, all of which have been tested for poison beforehand. Another thought that only makes her feel awful.

How can someone risk their life just for her? Why? She is no one special. How can she be their hope? Isao said the magic of the dragon, her being a dragonheart, meant that she is nearly invincible in battle. What use is that if she can't control it, if she kills not only her enemies but her own allies and soldiers? How do they believe she’s the answer to their problems?

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[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Hmm, still thinking about character profiles… might try and do something with that after this arc, since I didn’t do it before the USJ arc. Or maybe I should wait until after the Sports Festival? I suppose I’ll have to wait and see if I have enough material…

Still, it does feel weird to try and do character profiles when there are other ones out there that are so much more detailed and really dig into things. I mean, it can’t necessarily hurt for me to do, but it’d also push back the chapters even further when I just want to get caught up, so… bleh.

Anyways, chapter.

[No. 16 - Know Your Enemies]

First off, Mineta, why. Just. Sigh. 

Our first panel has izuku and Tsuyu wading towards the edge of the water, Izuku cradling his broken finger while Tsuyu drags Mineta along. Long and short, Mineta says the villains will be stuck together all day. Izuku is muttering about how lucky they were, because that move was a real gamble, and if the villains had been smart, a few of them would have been hidden under the water. He can guess they weren’t thinking ahead, but they still need to be careful…

Tsuyu tells him to stop, since what he’s muttering about is scary. She then asks him what they should do now. Izuku determines that their top priority is calling for help, and that if possible, they should follow the shoreline and make for the exit, avoiding the plaza altogether. (Meanwhile, Tsuyu asks if Izuku’s okay, which he confirms even while wincing over his injury.) Izuku’s narration recounts that their first battle ended in a win, but that he’d made a deadly wrong assumption. 

Huh. Izuku is using his elbow pad as a temporary compress for his broken finger. Interesting.

Tsuyu accepts Izuku’s plan, and then notes that Aizawa is drawing a large number of villains to the plaza. Izuku is worried about their teacher, noting that there’s too many enemies. Of course, Eraserhead is holding his own out there, but it’s too much for him, and that he had to know that, but jumped in to protect the class anyways.

Mineta think Izuku is planning something stupid (which I mean, rude but fair) while Tsuyu gives a neutral ribbit. Izuku clarifies that he isn’t saying they should dive right into the fight - just that they watch for an opening and do what they can to lighten their teacher’s load. The narration from above finishes with an ominous statement - thinking that they stood a chance against those enemies was a grave miscalculation.

Then we get an overview of the USJ and where everyone was sent, serving as the ‘cover page’ for the chapter. 

Interestingly, neither Aoyama or Hagakure have a confirmed location, though I am aware that Hagakure later states she was in the same zone as Shouto. And Shouji… oh, poor Shouji…

Can’t believe my good hugs boy was slandered like this… damn you Viz…

Not to mention the disrespect to our goddess Yaomomo… when will it end...

Next up, we get to see Shouto being casually intimidating. He exhales a chilled breath as his shoulder starts to steam, musing about the villains’ divide and conquer strategy. He then notes with a half-hearted preemptive apology that it’s hard to see the villains who were in the landslide zone as any more than thugs with quirks they can’t even handle. 

Jesus christ where does his ice end.

Shouto approaches the closest villain - perhaps the leader of that squad - his boots crunching in the ice as his left side continues to steam. The squad leader(?) calls him a bastard and complains how he reacted the second he was warped there, as well as wonders if he’s really just a kid before complaining about the pain from the frostbite of the ice.

Shouto briefly flashes back to Shigaraki mentioning how they brought along so many playmates (which I guess confirms that Jirou and/or Shouji forwarded some of what the villains were saying down in the plaza because otherwise there’s no way they should have heard from that distance.) He thinks about how the villains want to kill All Might, and and first, they’d all seemed elite, so they could use their numbers to overwhelm him. But taking a closer look, the pawns are only there for the kids, nothing but a gang of low-level cannon fodder. As far as he can tell, there are only about four or five really dangerous individuals there.

He then sits down(!!!) as he gets the villains’ attention, noting that at the rate they’re going, their skin will rot away from frostbite. The villains are alarm, but Shouto continues on, explaining that he’s trying to become a hero, and that heroes don’t do such horrible things. As he thinks about what he needs to do next, he asks the villains what makes them think they can kill All Might, and to tell him their plan.

Shouto, my man, that is a power move and a half right there, I cannot believe he actually sits down and makes them talk to him like an unruly class of students or sommat. Just, fucking hell, I don’t even know if he realizes how effectively he just asserted his dominance.

Our next scene shift (and the last for this post) is over to Yaomomo, Jirou, and Kaminari in the mountain zone, surrounded by enemies. 

Pick your fighter. I’m Birb Dude. 

A lot of those enemies have weapons of zome kind and are overall fairly intimidating, though there’s also this one fucker-

I’m sorry I just cannot take this one seriously, what the FUCK is that. There’s certainly some other questionable villains in this mess, but that one just. What.

Anyways. Kaminari just dodges a heavy punch from the big villain with the weird helmet on. He yelps as he gets closer to the girls and gets into formation (back to back to back), complaining about his whole life flashing before his eyes and asking who the hell those guys are and what they’re doing there. Jirou tells him to worry about that later, with Yaomomo stating they need to figure out how to get away from that mob. 

Jirou asks Kaminari to confirm he’s a ‘lightning guy’, and then tells him to just fry them all to a crisp. While she’s holding a presumably metal sword. Yeah no, I can’t see anything wrong with that plan. Kaminari is offended because why wasn’t she paying attention when were partners during the battle training? 

He then goes on to explain that he can only cover himself in electricity (so he wants a weapon), then goes on to say that he can discharge it, but he can’t control it - he’d hit them as well! Kind of like Todoroki’s power. He also states that he’s still trying to call for help, but his special transceiver is being jammed. He then finishes with the statement that they can’t rely on him, so he’s relying on them, giving a thumbs up with a bit of zap coming off of it.

Jirou grumbles about how he blabs a lot for a guy, then turns and kicks him into the crowd of villains, telling him to be a human stun gun. Kaminari yelps in disbelief at the betrayal, smacking right into the huge villain who almost punched him before and giving the guy a real good zap. Jirou is unimpressed as Kaminari realizes that the adhoc plan actually worked, and that the two can in fact rely on him after all. Jirou notes that that was easy.

Two other villains move to go after Kaminari, who is STILL somehow zapping the guy (how is that villain not dead yet??), with the rock fisted guy aiming a massive bouldery fist at a scared Kaminari. However, right before it hits, it gets cracked open by some kind of soundsave, leaving the villain’s unprotected fist to land right in Kaminari’s face and get them brutally zapped as well.

The boar-masked villain with knives tries to leap in, but a net shot from seemingly nowhere catches him mid-air and sends him falling to the ground caught up in it. We see right after that it was shot from Yaomomo’s right forearm / elbow, all while she’s blocking another strike from a different villain with her staff. She tells Jirou and Kaminari to get serious, with Jirou apologizing as she lifts her short sword again. 

Jirou unplugs her ear jack from the speaker in her right boot, the jack retracting to normal length as she notes that she had a good plan, but Kaminari… (something? IDK. I guess he’s in the way? Or she wasn’t expecting his quirk limitations?)

We get her full name - Jirou Kyoka - and a description of her quirk, Earphone Jack.

We also get to see her use her quirk without the speakers, directing one of those amplified heartbeats as a direct attack at some of the villains, who hold their hears as they shout from the pain. Jirou blocks another up-close sword attack with her own short sword, nothing that in her costume request, she asked for a way to focus her sound in one direction.

A question about her costume, like. Why are the speakers in her boots? I mean, I know her costume needed speakers to direct her quirk, but why not go for something like Present Mic’s costume where she could have the speakers on her shoulders and so a lot closer to her quirk???

Yeah, I need to try and keep remembering that these are first draft costumes made by fifteen year olds and not meant to be used in the field / against villains yet. Sometimes I am a dumb. Thank you discord for knocking my head straight.

Moving on, we get Yaomomo kicking another villain back as she states that ‘it’s ready’, which confuses Jirou and I guess the villains as well. The villain she kicked stumbles back as Yaomomo crouches over, her back starting to bulge as she notes that it took some time, what with it being a larger object. The back of her costume tears open in a fairly gruesome-seeming image, only for the next panel to reveal it’s some kind of huge sheet that shoot out over her and Jirou’s heads before coming down to completely cover them both.

The villains are confused about the sheet, asking if the kids are trying to shield themselves. Meanwhile, Kaminari seems done shocking the other villains, stumbling as others start to run at him with their weapons or hands poised to strike. Momo clarifies that the sheet is a 100 mm thick insulation sheet, then tells Kaminari ‘now.’ Kaminari, nose bloody, realizes her plan and let her know that. He lifts his arms, telling the villains that he’s actually super strong before bringing them down and fully unleashing his quirk, zapping all of them at once.

Pikachu, use Thunder!

As the quirk wears off, we see all the villains are in no condition to keep fighting. Smoke rises from the insulated sheet as Yaomomo lifts the edge, noting that now that that is handled, she’s worried about the others, so they need to hurry up and regroup. Jirou is flustered as she points out Yaomomo’s wardrobe malfunction (which I will not be sharing here), while Yaomomo calmly replies she can make more clothes. We also get a blurb on Yaomomo’s quirk:

As well as probably one of the most important things that Bones cut out for some stupid reason: belly rolls!

Yes, Yaomomo actually has a healthy weight in the manga. I mean, all the girls do, but still. Why do animes just ruin this stuff. 

Anyways, our last two panels of the page and this half of the chapter show Kaminari totally brain dead as he cheers, with another blurb about his quirk:

Behind all three of them, we see a fist smashing up out of the ground, showing that someone managed to dodge that super-attack after all…

Anyways, that’s a wrap for now. Next time is all Aizawa and Shigaraki, and that’s gonna be… messy. See y’all then!

[punkpoemprose]

December 12th- A Convenient Arrangement Part 4

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 5336 Words A/N: Brain-rot I tell you. Brain-rot. Yes I’m aware it would be easier to catch up writing or finishing the drabbles and oneshots I have in my drafts but I can literally only think about this AU anymore.  I do have other ideas I really want to tackle though, so maybe I’ll try one of those next. We sure will see won’t we?

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Anna had not been particularly pleased by the knock on her door before the rising of the sun. That was, of course, until she’d heard it open, and saw a somewhat familiar figure through her one open eye. They’d been married for just a little over a full day and a half, and already seeing him there, hearing his voice, brought her comfort.

“Anna,” he’d said quietly, “We’ll have to leave soon if we want to get back before dark. I think I’d like to show you some places on the way.”

So she’d dragged herself from bed, and now in the closest thing she owned to travel clothes, she sat at his side, watching the sun rise in his wagon. She’d offered to have the horse master prepare the royal carriage, but he’d shrugged at the idea. She could already tell that he was the sort of person who wouldn’t have others do for him, what he could do for himself.

She could appreciate that. She’d spent many years trying to dodge the staff when they’d wanted to bathe her or dress her or clean up her quarters for her. She’d given her poor governess a run for her money in her younger years, and now there was some special satisfaction she found in the tacking of her own horse or the styling of her own hair.

She wore it down today, in a pair of braids to make it almost proper. Being with her husband she supposed she should be allowed to wear it however she liked. She did feel a bit bad for the surge of annoyance she’d felt the day before when she’d watched him brushing his reindeer when she just spent time ruminating on her own insistence at doing things on her own. She was stubborn, and he seemed to be as well in many ways.

The odds of that causing problems were likely high, but she still liked their odds.

“What’s it like to live so far from the city?” she asked, just to break the quiet between them as they made their way along the road, few others traveling along as they did.

She wondered if Kristoff knew that normally she’d be accompanied by guards for any trip like this outside the walls of the castle’s gates. She wondered if he knew that he now should be afforded the same guards, and whether he knew that she’d intentionally had him exit a rear gate so as to not catch attention when they’d left.

The last thing she wanted on her first day left entirely alone with her husband was to have an entourage of guards a few feet behind them at most. She’d thought to leave a note in the servant’s quarters for Kai and Gerda, as well as one under her sister’s office door before they set out, at least so that no one would think she was kidnapped, but she was still uncertain as to whether they’d send a platoon out after her anyway.

“Simple,” he said, “Quiet. When I’m in camp with the other harvesters or in the market selling ice it’s so loud. But at home it’s peaceful. Sometimes someone who knows me well enough to know where my home is will stop by to visit, usually family or another harvester, but otherwise it’s just me and Sven and the forest.”

It sounded nice, she thought. To live out in nature and see untamed plants and animals each day. But the quiet aloneness was something that made her uncomfortable to think about. She’d spent too many years in solitude, quiet, alone. She couldn’t imagine wanting that.

But he was free to go where he liked, and he has family and he has friends.

His self-imposed solitude was different than her enforced one.

It’s better to have a choice.

His hands were on the reins, leading his reindeer off the well-traveled road and toward a smaller wooded path ahead. The city was shrinking behind them, and while she thought that it might be nice to get away for a short time, she also couldn’t help but fear what would come ahead for them. The forest was probably less dangerous than the conversations they might have now that they were well and truly alone, away from the ears and eyes of staff and dignitaries and citizens of her castle and kingdom.

She wished that he’d let a hand fall, so that she could grip it for comfort.

***

She was leaning into his side a bit as Sven climbed the familiar path up and into the mountain. Trees lined the dirt road and in some places, he felt the wagon’s wheels crunch over fallen branches and encroaching shrubs. Had he been alone, and had he had his hatchet he may have spent some time clearing the road. It was used by only a few during the summer months. There were others that lived in his section of the mountain, but they were mostly older and while they helped keep the path, it was a job he took mostly for himself.

Hermits have to stick together.

But he wasn’t a hermit, at least not anymore. She was warm at his side, and he enjoyed the contact. It was not a cold morning, the summer sun rising was already warming their surroundings, but the shade of the branches above was keeping it cool. They hadn’t been speaking for a while, and he wasn’t sure what to say. She’d been doing most of the talking, and he’d answered her when prompted. He’d told her about ice harvesting and the work it required, about his preferences for hands on work over more cerebral tasks despite doing well enough with them to keep himself and his ice business afloat.

She’d told him about growing up in the castle, being trained for duties she’d not been asked to fulfil when the gates had been closed, and how she wasn’t truly certain what was going to happen next. She’d mentioned that they’d be expected to make appearances, and that while they didn’t rule, they’d be prepared to do so in the event that Elsa could not.

“My sister has no interest in providing the kingdom with an heir,” she’d said, “The throne will be mine someday, whether I want it or not. People are going to want me to ensure someone will fill it after as well. Our kingdom is peaceful, the monarchy is well liked, but a power vacuum could be deadly nevertheless.”

It had been the last thing she’d said before the quiet had overtaken them. They’d spoken briefly of heirs and children on their wedding night, mostly to assure her that she’d never have to provide him with any, but he wasn’t sure now if it were something that she might have taken the wrong way. He tried to recall whether he’d qualified the statement with a willingness to someday have children if she wanted them, but he was uncertain.

“Do you want children?”

She was quiet, but she didn’t shift from his side. He took it as a good sign and let his hand drop from the reins, knowing that Sven knew the path ahead and that he could control him well enough with a single hand.

She took it, her fingers lacing through his as they both kept their eyes on the path ahead.

“I never thought about it much,” she said, “Well I thought about it sometimes, but not about whether I would want to or not. Princesses married, they had children, they raised future monarchs, and with Elsa being as she is… well I just always knew it would be my duty. I was very romantic as a child though, I liked to dream of weddings and things. I always thought I’d marry for love like my parents did.”

He squeezed her hand, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a choice.”

She looked at him then, he saw it out the corner of his eye and so he turned to her in return. Her eyes were rueful, her smile weak. “I’m sorry you didn’t either. I never asked… was there someone else that you…?”

“No.”

He thought maybe he answered too quick, especially when there was a spark of surprise in her eye. He couldn’t imagine why it would, he surely had to be blundering enough in his attempts at supporting her that she could tell he’d never been in a relationship before. But then again, she’d been alone for so long, and while he didn’t know much about her last relationship, he knew that she was also new to their situation if nothing else. Maybe she wasn’t sure of what being in a relationship was supposed to be like either.

“Sorry, I… no. I’ve never been interested in anyone before you.”

She flushed, her face going bright red. He wasn’t really sure what he’d said that elicited the response until she looked down at her feet and quietly replied.

“So you are interested? In me… that is?”

It was his turn to flush then. He looked away from her, toward the brush along the side of the path, taking note of the plants they passed, staring at trees and stones and anything but her. Because he was interested.

She’s beautiful.

She’s kind.

I’m not worthy of her.

She’s my wife.

“How could I not be Anna?”

***

The light breeze that swept its way across the small clearing buffeted the loose hairs around her face, tickling at her nose. Her sleep addled hands had done their best in braiding, but clearly she’d missed some pieces.

Kristoff’s hand was in hers again, helping her down from the wagon. It was a lucky thing too, her legs feeling like jelly with how long she’d been sitting.

She fell a bit, into his chest, and she didn’t mind at all when his other arm wrapped around her back, stabilizing her, holding her until she righted herself. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the various conversations they’d had on their way, but particularly the one where he’d told her that he was, in fact, interested in her.

It shouldn’t matter really. They were married after all. But the idea that her husband might have an interest in her beyond the title and duty to be wed, meant something. She was interested in him too.

He’s funny, and kind, and…

She had to tune out her own thoughts in order to quiet the commentary on his arms and chest and the attractiveness of his features. She lost the battle though, at least thinking about his strength, when she righted herself again and let her hand run down his chest.

“I hope you won’t be too disappointed,” he said, not dropping her hand as he led her toward one of the two buildings that filled the space. “It’s nothing fancy.”

She knew that she couldn’t possibly be disappointed. All she’d wanted from this trip was to get away from the castle for a bit, to get to know him a little better. She’d already been given that and more. His hand was in hers; he’d said that he was interested in her, and nothing had fallen apart around her yet.

The grass in the field around them was a bit taller than it was in the pasture where she rode her horse, but the ground was mostly level and easy to walk on. He’d already unhitched Sven who was munching on it happily. He wasn’t tied up, but stayed in the bounds of the space without difficulty.

The animal was smart. She could tell that he was either well trained, or had a bond with Kristoff that at least made him appear so. She wondered how old the reindeer was, and how long Kristoff had been his “best friend”.

She thought that maybe sometime the information would come up naturally. Or at least she hoped so. There were some mysteries she wanted him to answer for her naturally, rather than offer in response to her many questions.

The building was small, larger than the other that appeared to be a stable and storage space, but still smaller than even her smallest drawing room. It was built of logs, long, but thin compared to the trunks of the trees around her, and bare of bark. They were stacked high, perhaps ten feet, and appeared to be expertly aligned to create the walls. Into the face a few small windows were inset into the wood, and the roof, made of thick wooden shingles that were well aged with the sun and weather. A few appeared to be split, maybe as a result of the freezing and thawing of the winter’s snow and ice.

She’d seen winters split the flagstones in the garden path at the palace and supposed it might to do the same to shingles. She took note of the simplicity of the structure, just a rectangle of wood with the space broken only by the windows, the single front door, and the stone chimney that had been laid up the end.

Nothing about it was perfect. The logs that made up the walls were tightly laid together, and she had no doubt that it was weather tight, but the logs were cut to different lengths on the end, almost lined up, but not quite. The chimney had a slight lean to it, and the door and windows were not even close to centered on the buildings front. It had been made by eye, she could tell, and it was lovely.

She wanted to ask if he’d made it himself, but she felt as if she might be disappointed to learn if it hadn’t been. She was already imagining him, maybe a year or two younger, without a shirt and hauling the heavy supplies across the clearing himself.

She supposed his family must have helped. That’s what families did, or at least that was true to her memory of what having a full family was like. It was fuzzy around the edges, even with her parents death not having been long ago, because Elsa hadn’t really been part of the family since she was quite small.

When they made it to the front door, he opened it for her and helped her take the step up into the interior which was lit warmly by sunlight through the two windows that had been visible to her on the front of the building as well as another slightly larger one on the back. Small dust motes danced like fireflies in the light, and she realized rather quickly that it was a home of practicality rather than fashion. The main room was, less of a room and more a space. She saw a stove, a small fireplace, a table with a single chair, a chest, and a cot in the space with little else.

“It’s not fancy,” he reiterated, stepping into his home behind her, “Nothing like what you’re used to, but it’s mine.”

She thought for a moment about what it would be like to live there.

She’d want to hang curtains, maybe polish the stove a bit, and add a rug to the center of the floor, and maybe some hooks on the wall to hang jackets in the winter, but otherwise it was someplace she could, at least, imagine staying for a few nights.

She didn’t really think that she needed much. The amenities of the castle had always been nice, but she thought that she might be able to, perhaps, be happy without them. Running water was, however, one thing that she knew she’d miss if she were ever to live anywhere without it.

“It’s perfect,” she said, and she meant it, because it was his, and that’s all it needed to be.

***

He’d left her with express permission to do all the exploring and digging through his home that she liked. He had nothing to hide from her, and he supposed that it might make her happy to see his home and his things. He was getting to know her home, and while he supposed he wouldn’t be spending much time in his cabin anymore, he thought it only right for her to get to know his too. Her zeal after being given permission was something that surprised him, as if she had wanted to know if she could explore but had been too scared to ask.

I don’t want her to ever be afraid to ask something of me.

Still though, with her joy, there had been some visible sadness when he’d told her that he needed to leave for a short while. Normally he would ride Sven the moderate distance to the valley where his family lived, but instead he left the animal in Anna’s care, or perhaps he left Anna in his care. Sven was, for a very long time, the only living being other than his family that he trusted without a second thought. He was starting, even after such a short time, to put Anna in that category as well, and so he knew that he could trust the animal to keep her company or get her back to the city if need be, just as he also felt comfortable with leaving her to keep the creature from running off or getting tangled up in anything he shouldn’t.

She already seemed to like him, he’d noticed the way she’d scratched his head gently before they’d left in the morning, and somehow a small pile of carrots had appeared in the wagon while they were on the road. It may have been bribery on her part, though it was unnecessary. Sven in his own way, had already shown that he liked her too. It was another reason why he thought that being married to Anna might be something he would not only be able to bear, but to enjoy. Sven was an excellent judge of character.

When he reached the valley it appeared empty, void of everything but the occasional mushroom, tuft of grass, and bit of moss growing on the oddly placed stones in the space. He knew better of course, but to the untrained, unknowing eye, who probably couldn’t find the valley in the first place, it would just be another stretch of the mountain to pass through.

“I’m home,” he called.

He could feel the love in the space as a few stones slowly unsettled themselves from the dirt and rolled toward the shaded area of tree line he’d just emerged from. The mossy stones were large but didn’t come up much higher than his knee as he walked back into the shade to where they’d settled.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but I have something I need to tell you.”

The rocks rocked a bit, then popped apart into small humanoid figures. The one he called his mother gave him a sleepy smile as the one he called his father yawned, and the one he called his grandfather looked on expectantly. Grand Pabbie was always the first to have his wits about him when he woke, being the oldest and least effected by the exhausting light of the sun.

“It must be urgent,” the old troll said, already reaching out to grasp Kristoff’s hand in support, his brow scrunched as he tried to determine what was going on.

The two trolls that he called his parents came to shortly after, reaching for him and clasping his larger hand in between their smaller ones.

“I wanted to come and tell you yesterday, or before I even left but… I’m married.”

“Married?”

His father looked skeptical, as if he were about to start checking him for head trauma. Then rubbed his eyes with his unoccupied hand.

“Married like wed? To another human?”

His wife, Kristoff’s mother, bumped the troll with a look of cut-it-out-right-now-or-so-help-me on her face, then turned to give Kristoff a radiant smile.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s human or not… or if he is… or if it is. Our baby is in love! When do we get to meet… uh… your spouse?”

Kristoff flushed and it had nothing to do with the warm afternoon air.

“I’m not in love… or at least I’m not… I think I could be but we’re��� We’re just married…” He found it much more difficult to explain than he could have imagined on his walk over, and so he just settled for the most basic information he could manage, “She’s human. Her name is Anna. Actually, well… Princess Anna.”

“Oh God,” his father said, “He’s kidnapped a Princess. I told you that we needed to stop pressuring him into finding someone Bulda. We’re going to have to move the valley, raise the protection crystals, explain kidnapping to the kids...”

The elder troll gave the other two an exhausted look, and then shook his head as he and Kristoff watched the two begin bickering. It was a loving sort of argument, but a boisterous one nevertheless.

“Princess Anna…” Grand Pabbie said thoughtfully, “The daughter of Agnarr and Iduna, yes? Is she the one with ice powers? I’m old and I can’t quite recall which one had which name. Elsa was one and Anna the other as I recall. One should be Queen by now I suppose. I know King Agnarr and his wife have passed.”

Kristoff shot the old troll a confused look. Of course, the trolls knew some of the goings on in the kingdom below and surrounding their valley, but Kristoff wasn’t aware that he knew of the girls beyond anything he’d mentioned. In the time before the last three days, he’d rarely if ever mentioned much about the human world below to his family, assuming that they wouldn’t be interested.

“I’m sorry Pabbie, I don’t understand… Ice powers? You mean those rumors about the Queen…”

Pabbie gave Kristoff an uncharacteristically wry smile.

“You have trolls for family, and you thought people telling you that the Queen of Arendelle had the ability to control ice was too wild a tale to be true?”

He would have laughed at himself were he not so confused.

“They say she froze the land, but I never noticed anything. My cabin wasn’t struck by an ice storm and while I didn’t leave home often when they say the event occurred, I’m sure I would have noticed the drop in temperature, or my clearing being covered in snow.”

“You wouldn’t have noticed a thing unless you left our area of protection and your cabin is well within it,” the old troll answered, “I forget sometimes that while you’re our kin, you’re not of our blood. You couldn’t feel the surge of magic when it occurred, or when it ended. I imagine an act of sacrifice, or perhaps one of true love. I lack the details. But you say you married the Princess then? So not the one with the ice powers, the one with the red hair. A strange thing that is given your history.”

“You don’t mean?”

His mother was the one who asked, done bickering with his father. She released his hand to cross the space to where her father, Grand Pabbie, was nodding sagely.

“I do. I doubt he recalls as we do Bulda, but there’s fate at work here.”

“Fate?”

Kristoff felt, not for the first time amid his adopted family, utterly confused. They often spoke cryptically, jumped to conclusions, or otherwise reacted to things in ways that befuddled him. They were kind, loving creatures, but he knew that in some ways they would never understand each other as completely as they loved each other.

“Kristoff,” his father asked, “How much do you recall of the day you became our son? And your wife… Anna… does she have red hair with a streak of white in it?”

Nothing can ever be simple, can it?

***

When Kristoff returned it was well into the afternoon. Anna had managed to not only fully make her way through the features and belongings of his home, but also of the stable and storage space. She’d taken in the neat rows of his small garden, and picked wildflowers from the clearing around his home, accompanied by the loose reindeer. She’d made them into a crown which sat delicately on the beast’s head, well designed to account for his antlers.

She’d seen little that surprised her amongst his things. Clothes, tools, a ledger of his business expenses and earnings, some miscellaneous personal affects like soap and linens and various things she’d never found interesting until it was his. His little home was neat, and tidy, and while a bit dusty in some places, overwhelmingly clean. She thought perhaps, from the variety of things she found of his, the worn but well cared for tools and the simple but clean stove with few pans, that he took pride in his simple life. It was reinforced by what she knew of him.

The standout in his things had been in the bottom of the chest that held his clothes. Amongst shirts and trousers and vests and winter things, she’d found three small but lovely crystals. One was blue, one was yellow, and one, which she thought for half a moment had glowed at her touch, was pink. She’d run her fingers over their facets, noted their clarity, and had then settled them gently back in with the rest of his things. She had plenty of jewels of her own, but nothing so simple and lovely. She wasn’t certain as to why they sat in the bottom of the chest, and while she thought that she might sometime ask him, she still felt nervous about the fact that she’d snooped at all, even with his permission.

She’d been feeding Sven carrots when he arrived, looking almost harried in a way she was unused to seeing him as he quickly broke through the tree line and walked towards her. She couldn’t help recoiling a bit from him in surprise when he walked up to her and with speed and little tact, lifted one of her braids from her shoulders and studied it.

She dropped the carrot she’d been holding, and the reindeer huffed as his owner held, not tightly, onto her hair and held it up a bit to the sun.

“Where did you get this?”

It took her a moment to understand. So much time away from people who didn’t know her had lead her to sometimes forget that having a shock of white hair mingled with the rest was something that was uncommon. It stood out rather well from her red hair, and while she’d often forgotten about it when styling her own hair, she supposed that they had intentionally hidden it as well as they could for the wedding. She probably shouldn’t have been surprised that it would have taken her hair being styled down for him to take notice of it.

She was just surprised to see him so interested in it while being so agitated. It almost scared her for a moment until she caught sight of a gleam in his eye. There was interest there, and nothing malicious in the least. She thought that she might be able to refuse telling him and that he would drop it, but there was no reason for it.

She wasn’t vain, and he may as well think that she was silly.

Everyone else always has.

“I think I was born with it. I don’t remember it ever not being there. Though once, when I was young, I  dreamt it appeared because I was kissed by a troll.”

Kristoff ran his fingers over it gently then. She saw him look almost adoring as he did so, her eyes glancing between the soft curve of a smile on his lips, and the stroking of his fingers against her braid. He set it carefully, almost reverently, back on her shoulder before he smiled more solidly and reached down to take her hand in his.

She let his fingers lace through his and felt her heart race a bit as he moved even closer to her and  loosened his grip on her hand to rub his thumb in slow circled over her palm.

“Anna.”

His face inches from hers so all she could see were his eyes, his lips. He was suddenly her whole world.  

“Yes?”

Her response was barely louder than a breath. She might not have believed that she said it at all if it weren’t for the way his smile broadened. He made a sound like a soft chuckle, but seemed almost as breathless as her, when he whispered.

“Do you believe in fate?”

I want to.

“I… I don’t understand.”

He gave her an understanding look, and then took a half step away from her, still holding her hand, beckoning her to follow him back towards the forest he’d exited moments before.

“I don’t think I could explain it… But Anna… Would you stay here with me a night if it meant meeting my family? They have something to tell you.”

She knew that she should be worried, that warning bells should be going off in her head. She wondered if her parents were rolling in their graves, screaming stranger danger. She wondered if she had been crazy to trust him and follow him into the middle of nowhere.

He won’t hurt me.

You thought that once before.

Her thoughts were warring again, but her feet were following him.

Trust him.

When you trusted before you almost died.

She could feel the ice in her blood, in her chest, but she could also feel the heat of his hand, the slow circles he was still drawing, almost absent mindedly. She didn’t let the cold overtake her, the memory of someone putting out fires and laughing at her foolishness put aside until there was only this moment, there was only Kristoff.

Trust.

So she did.

“We’ll have to send word to the castle somehow, if we plan to stay longer than dark… I don’t want my sister to be worried about me, but I… I would like to meet your family. Yes.”

His grin was the brightest she’d ever seen alight his face. His brown eyes practically glowed with the afternoon light and the warmth of his expression settled on her like a blanket on a cold day.

Kristoff. My husband.

She followed him to the forest edge, leaving behind the clearing and entering the shaded wilds knowing that he would carry her through.

[magicflowershop]

❁ every 12.30 pm

➳ timeskip!sugawara x reader oneshot

➵ fluff, heart-warming, cute kids

✿ you found a cute teacher in your niece’s school, so maybe picking up a kid from school everyday isn’t such a bad idea.

❀ // hi! i’ve been gone for so long and finally i finished this after weeks of letting it rot in my drafts,, i don’t wanna delete this bc it feels like i’ll foresaken my angel Suga so here i hope you all enjoy my first oneshot :>

word count // 3,257

of all days, you picked this day as the day to slack off.

there was no reason to doll up, you reasoned. this was your rest day. no plans were made and no places you needed to go, so you went and picked up your sister’s kid wearing your house clothes.

no biggie. a few blocks distance wouldn’t hurt your sense of insecurity. a kindergartener’s teacher also wouldn’t possibly judge how you look when you’re only out to pick a kid up from school.

today, however, was different.

everything became instinct. your fingers went up the center of your jacket, to zip it up entirely. your hands then reached down to your sweatpants, checking if you were wearing it the right way. to your hair, if there are hair strands that are where they’re supposed to be. everything became instinct so you don’t look so much like a mess

in front of this fine preschool teacher.

“i’m Futaba’s guardian.”

your throat let out the softest, shyest voice you could ever project. you found yourself shamelessly, and instinctively, acting cute in front of this fine preschool teacher. 

how else were you supposed to react? his beautiful gray hair enticed you, with a fringe softly parted on the center of his forehead. his porcelain skin that put Snow White to shame, his round, brown eyes that reflected every star in the galaxy, and his smile that could win a boxing match against the sun. not to mention, the mole under his left eye definitely hit the mark.

“good afternoon, Futaba’s guardian-san.”

hearing his voice for the first time, you’re decided. it was a crush.

perhaps it was superficial of you. you claim to fall for a guy you don’t know only for the fact you found him cute. you thought looking at him, admiring him like this was enough however when his angelic smile brightened at the sight of the children waving bye-bye to him and him waving bye-bye back. when he went down on one knee in front of your sister’s daughter, politely asking her she has to stop playing with her classmates because you have come to bring her home. when Futaba spread her arms and wrapped them around his neck, telling him a lispy see you tomorrow.

how dare you face someone like him looking like this.

on the way home, you were dead-set on asking your sister to let you bring your niece home every schoolday. seeing him once was not enough. something about him gravitated you to wanting to see more of him.

you remember the name written on his nametag when you caught the last glimpse of him. 

“Sugawara”

his name reminded you of grass fields, as it is what it meant. it was perfect for him. the aura he emitted was rather calming. people must like having him around for he’s a breath of fresh air. he really was a perfect kindergarten teacher.

“how was school, Futaba?”

your niece skipped as she walked, visibly excited to talk about her day. “it was really fun! my classmates and i had a tea party earlier! Futaba almost spilled the cup because it was too hot.”

“what about your teachers?” you wanted to smack yourself for squeezing information about a guy from your 5-year-old niece. it is a desperate move however, which else choice do you have?

“ah! Sugawara-sensei read us a beanstalk story before nappy time.” Futaba put a finger on her chin as if to think about what else happened. she had no idea how hooked she got you to listen to her story. “then, then Sugawara-sensei helped Futaba with her clay family!”

you then considered yourself lucky.

“do you like Sugawara-sensei?”

and pushed the topic about the man further, seeing the sparkles in your niece’s eyes and how she skipped even happier. “yes! yes! Futaba’s favorite teacher is Sugawara-sensei,” she declared and continued shyly. “he helped Futaba talk to her crush Kaito-kun.”

when you said you were dead-set, you are dead-set for real. what’s there to lose? kids love him, including your own niece. he’s beautiful. he has a gentle voice. he probably smells like daisies. you just have to befriend him and get to know about him some more before introducing him to your parents-

as a friend. 

right?

“for what? did you find a cute guy there or something?”

it sucked your sister knew you too well.

that day, you invited yourself in your sister’s room the second she got home from work. the sly yet desperate move visibly annoyed the older so much that she knew you had something up your sleeve to even dare show up in her room.

“no. just that, it’s a good way to take breaks from the café. plus, i get to hang out with Futaba.” you explained as simply as you could, even though your sister literally can see right through your lies.

she hummed and replied with, “you never get out of the house unless it’s absolutely necessary. when i asked you to take Futaba home from school yesterday, you hated it because your break time from café is ruined. please. find someone else to fool, y/n.”

you soon admit that you truly are dumb. that, however, did not stop you from redeeming yourself to your sister; that being telling the truth and not exactly redeeming anything. you told her the man you set your eyes on in Futaba’s school. you jokingly told her it was love at first sight even though you never believed of something as ridiculous as such.

besides, your sister has no room to reject. you aimed at two birds with one stone. not only do you get to see more of the guy, but you will do your sister a favor of taking care of her daughter for free.

she sighed, finding no way to deny this. “i hate to say it but your timing is too good. i was thinking of finding a babysitter for Futaba since both of us are busy. but if you insist, who am i to decline?”

so this side job began the following day. 

thirty minutes spared during your break before you engage yourself to war. you decided to spend those thirty minutes to rearrange yourself. you would rather not switch into your house clothes like you did yesterday, would you? this time, you chose carefully. you didn’t want to look like a floor rag but you didn’t want to look like you went there to go on a date either. even to contemplate whether or not you must add a little more blush on your cheeks to look lively.

you changed into a casual fit. a plain shirt, denim shorts and a pair of slip-on sandals. it was an attempt to not look like you were trying too hard. not with those clean ponytail and tinted lips.

“good afternoon, i’m Futaba’s guardian.” you told yourself a good job that you remembered to greet today.

but Sugawara wasn’t the one you directed that to. 

he wasn’t around. you sneaked glances left and right to see if he was playing together with the other kids, but alas.

you walked home with Futaba, holding her hand. you try to match the child’s mood as she was very elated to talk about her day. on the other hand, you; Sugawara could have been busy. you can still see him again the following day.

the following days, you lessened your get up from your first attempt. he was present, but the greetings were the same as first day you met.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? do you start conversations? well, of course, you told yourself, since you’re the one who wants something from him. but how? what should you talk about? your day? his day? the kids? his job? what?

“thank you for taking care of Futaba.”

“hm? it is my job though.”

there goes your little motivation to initiate conversations with people you’re interested in. 

you hear him chuckle at you, which added to the embarrassment you had from your statement alone. 

today was parents’ day. the kids were asked to bring their parents to school to have a little meeting with the rest of the class. it worried you that Futaba only had you as her guardian to go with her, not her mother, but you see the kid in her high spirits since this morning you didn’t want to ruin that for her and apologize on her mother’s behalf.

you think this as you lean against the wall at the corner, until you notice Sugawara stood beside you. so much so, you spoke absent-mindedly.

you should have kept your mouth shut.

“is Futaba’s mother doing okay? we haven’t seen her since a week ago.”

or maybe you don’t have to keep your mouth shut after all. you turned to him, stunned. like, goodness, he’s starting a topic with you himself. how can you not be stunned.

“o sorry. is it a sensitive topic? i’m sorry-”

“no!” you said audibly. too audibly. you clamped your mouth, worried if you took the children’s attention away from the kids who are presenting in front. you continued in a whisper, while he still chuckled at you, “Futaba’s mom recently switched work schedules that clashes together with the kid’s school. she wasn’t allowed to take a leave today, so i’m here in her place.”

geez, were you talking too much?

“i see.”

you probably were talking too much.

“you two are siblings, no?”

“uh, yeah. we are.”

he nodded to himself, turning to the kids presenting again. a silent heave of relief escaped you while you leaned comfortably against the wall again. guess that was enough interaction for the day.

“i guess, we’ll keep seeing Futaba’s guardian-san from now on.” he gave you a gentle smile, leaning a bit closer to you from the half-feet distance.

“you don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“my apologies. what should i call you?”

“y/n.”

“y/n-san then.”

he gave you one last boyish smile before walking off to his station.

hold up.

did he just come here to ask for your name? did he trick you into telling him your name?

you and Futaba went home happily. literally, the both of you had a great day in school. here, you were giggling like a kid who just got noticed by her crush. but you could be wrong. it’s only natural of a teacher to learn one of his student’s  guardian’s name. he cannot be interested in you. 

on the other hand, he did start a conversation with you.

don’t get ahead of yourself, you thought. you cannot help but still think about it.

the traffic lights flashed a green color.

days went on. you stayed as the one bringing your niece home safely every afternoon while the mother is busy. the relationship and trust you built with the child strengthened. your heart swell each time you see her jumping in joy whenever you show up after school. when you thought that alone will bring you happiness everyday, Sugawara greets you everyday with the same boyish smile.

each day pass, soon you become close friends. this made Futaba happy as you two are two of her favorite people.

until one day, the teacher called saying Futaba got sick.

worry engulfed you. you wondered what could’ve happened for the child to get sick, when she was fine earlier before her and her mother left together. could your sister not have noticed? or did it happen during school? more and more questions took shape as you frantically closed the café and ran to the school.

you rushed inside the nurse’s office, panting profusely. your eyes first caught your niece lying on the bed unconscious, and Sugawara sitting by the bed, placing a damp towel on her forehead.

“good morning, I’m Futaba’s guardian.”

Futaba’s teacher explained the situation to you. the kids were outside playing in the playground when Sugawara saw Futaba drenched in one hidden part of the garden. you see another kid standing beside the teacher. the kid gripped the hem of his shirt tightly as if he wanted to rip it off. the scowl on his face says enough of why he was here.

“i didn’t do it.”

the teacher continued, “ever since parent’s day, apparently some students have been picking on Futaba for not having her mother around.

“i’m terribly sorry. i’ve helped Futaba in ways i can. even i wanted to call you for this, but when i told Futaba i will, she begged me not to tell you because you and her mother are both busy with work.” she nudged the kid beside her, “isn’t there something you need to tell Futaba’s guardian?”

the kid averted his eyes. you figured there was no reason squeezing an apology from stubborn children like him. you kneeled before the kid to be at the same level as his eyes.

“what’s your name?”

he spent a few seconds quivering his lips before speaking, “Sora.”

“Sora,” you held his shoulder gently, looking into his eyes. “you’re very lucky to always have your mother by your side.”

tears formed in his innocent eyes.

you went on. “always remember to tell your mom that you love her, long as you still have her around, so she will stay. okay?” you finished, smiling at him as bright as you could.

Sora erupted into tears, storming off out of the nurse’s office and yelling his apology.

kids.

“i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make him cry.” you reasoned, when you know full well you did it on purpose to put that kid into a guilt trip for messing with your niece like this. the teacher said it was fine, that she could’ve done it the same thing but a different way.

ignoring that, you turned to Sugawara, who you forgot was there the whole time, “i’m sorry for the trouble. i’ll be taking her home now.”

“i can help you bring her home.” 

Sugawara stood up from his seat. this startles you because you also forgot you had a crush on him. you try to decline his offer, reasoning that your house is nearby and that you can carry a kid no problem.

but the Futaba’s teacher helped insist, “Sugawara-sensei should help you look after Futaba… uh, y/n-san was it?” you nodded, dubiously. “it was also said by Futaba that you’re working alone in your house with no one to help you. so please.”

you couldn’t decline when you saw Sugawara already carrying the kid behind his back. so you went home together with him, big deal. you felt embarrassed after getting your background get found out like that. guess Futaba is too honest of a kid, but not honest enough to tell her family that she was bullied at school.

“here will do.”

the two of you finally stood in front of your father’s café. the walk was silent, but you believed it was enough interaction for the day once more.

“you weren’t kidding when you say it was nearby, huh?” he said, looking through the glass windows.

“well. yeah.”

“that’s too bad,” he says, still carrying the kid on his back. he looks back to you. the smile appears again, “aren’t you going to open the door?”

you unlocked the doors. then, it hit you. what did he mean by too bad?

after taking Futaba up to her room and tucking her in bed, you went back down to the café where you found Sugawara idling about. “you can rest yourself on one of the booths. let me brew a drink for you.” you took your apron and hurried behind the counter. meanwhile, the man stood up perhaps wanting to leave. 

“oh, you don’t have to make me a drink. i should be leaving.”

this confused you. really, what was that too bad for?

“you went all the way to our café. it’s only natural i made a drink for you.” you try and justify yourself. also, you already pressed the espresso machine. there’s no reason to waste a cup of espresso.

“if so, must i stay?”

this was the second to the last straw.

you stood there, one hand holding the ice scooper and the other holding a grande-sized cup, while staring at him straight into his bright eyes. those orbs must be telling you something. there should be a secret hiding within those eyes. for example, an answer to his question. 

“do you want to stay?” you first broke the gaze.

“i’m the one asking you, y/n,” he said with a chuckle. 

once again, you hesitated. “sure.”

the café flooded with silence while you made an iced latte for him. you trailed your gaze to the top of his head as he sat on one of the booths. concerns arise from the pit of your mind. nothing seemed to be happening. then, what is he here for? if he stayed, what will happen? is this all on purpose? should you put your guards up? 

are the green lights alit again?

you put the iced latte on his table when he spoke. “i’m quite worried about Futaba with what happened to her.”

“well, she did a good job hiding the truth from us.” you say as you sat across him. “she’s a strong kid. i’m more worried if she will continue hiding her pain from the people who care about her.”

maybe you shouldn’t start such a touchy subject like this, yea? Sugawara landed his eyes at you but you avoided it and stood up. you have no idea what’s going on. if anything, this is not the right context of when something will develop. both of you just brought home a sick kid, for Pete’s sake. must you really take advantage of this?

“anyway, i’ll tell my sister what happened. she can help Futaba better than i-”

“i wonder if i’ll still see you every afternoon.”

his honesty astounded you. Sugawara’s pale face flushed from shame. guess he didn’t mean to say that. this means, if you weren’t getting ahead of yourself again, it’s how he actually feels.

you tried to lessen his embarrassment, “of course you will, who else will pick Futaba up from school?” so you played dumb.

“if your sister knew about the situation, she might switch her schedule.”

what was he trying to say?

“she can’t do that easily, you know.”

“there will still be a possibility.” he rested his chin on his palm, smiling at you, “which reminds me, i have been looking for a part-time job around here. is your café looking for more workers?”

“you wanna work here?” you ask as you went and flip the sign to open, since you’re already back for work.

“sure,” he picked himself up from the booth and walked towards you. “but i think i should follow someone’s footsteps first and make an impression. you know, you’re going to be my boss. i should meet you with casual clothes, not with a track jacket, sweat pants and unkept hair. what do you think?”

you flipped the sign to close. “are you mocking someone here?”

he tried to not make himself laugh at you. “i’m just saying i shouldn’t half-ass it if i’m looking for another job, y/n.”

“doesn’t sound like you’re actually looking for another job though?” 

“i’m not,” he admitted. “i’m only looking for a reason to see you more. every 12.30 pm isn’t enough.”

the traffic lights said go. it is now 12.31 pm.

[sternbagel]

Inspired by the wonderful OC lore that @charlotte-balfours-garden​ wrote and posted, I decided to finish this piece that’s been sitting in my drafts for months about my own RDR OC, visual references here!

Note: This takes place in canon, Chapter 3, and while everyone calls her Alberta Taylor at this point, it’s not her real name, just something she’s been going by for years because of something in her past. Professionally, she’s a bounty hunter, but has dabbled in other things. 

Read This First

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, at least the one thing today that hasn’t been surprising is Arthur finding Al has dragged a chair over to his tent to read, one leg propped up on the chest at the end of his cot. Sometimes she’ll set up there to get ample shade from the sun, and according to her, the chest is the perfect foot rest height. 

“Afternoon, Arthur,” she greets lazily as she turns the page.

“Miss Taylor. Comfortable?”

“Sure.” She cuts her eyes up at him from under the brim of her hat, seemingly just to give him a greeting glance and smile, but when she spots the shiny new accessory pinned to his vest, her head raises higher. “You steal that off a dead lawman or somethin’?”

And it begins, Arthur thinks with a snort. “No, Dutch—” he waves an arm in the direction he came from, though Dutch has long ago left that area—“got us ingratiated with the local sheriff, so now we’re honorary deputies.”

“Was Sheriff Gray drunk?” 

That’s surprising. They only met the sheriff yesterday, and he’s not sure the full story of their encounter has been relayed to the rest of camp, just the orders not to cause any trouble. “How’d you know his name?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he realizes that most likely, it was Hosea. Those two are close. 

She answers with a cavalier shrug before he can say anything. “I’ve been here before. Once. Didn’t stay long.”

Arthur takes the bait she leaves out. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s Lemoyne. I don’t spend very long here if I can help it. But first time I got to Rhodes lookin’ for bounty posters, Sheriff Gray was puking in the bushes. Somehow he managed to get out that they do all the bounty hunting themselves. No reason to go back.”

“Well, that’s pretty much how I found him when I went lookin’ for Dutch and Bill.”

“Figures,” she laughs, shaking her head. “Not that I really care, but where is Bill? Didn’t see him come back with y’all. Still with the Sheriff, ingratiating himself?” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “I didn’t get that impression off him, but I wasn—”

Arthur holds up a hand and shakes his own head with a smirk. “No, no, the Grays around here don’t seem… his type. Matter of fact, I should probably warn Bill to just play it cool—“

“What, drunk, dumb, and ignorant ain’t Bill’s type? What about that guy we saw him chattin’ up at that saloon in Armadillo?”

“That ain’t what I mean,” he snorts.

“I know.” Al flashes a playful smirk. “I’m just messin’.”

“Well, anyway, no, he’s off hidin’ some wagon full o’ moonshine we stole off some bootleggers under the Sheriff’s orders. Hosea’ll know what to do with it.”

“Moonshine?” This seems to pique her interest, again to Arthur’s surprise. “You know who you stole it off of?”

“Yes…” Arthur’s eyebrows knit together. He slowly lumbers over to his table, laying down the deputy badge and watching her carefully. Al’s expression is calm, but it’s a thin enough veneer that he sees the curiosity building by the second. “What’s it to you?”

“Curious.”

“Yeah.”

The book in her lap finally closes. “I used to run with some moonshiners not too long ago.”

“Alberta Taylor. Well, I never took you for a bootlegger.”

She throws an arm over the back of her chair and lets her head fall back, exposing more of her neck. It’s then that Arthur notices she’s not wearing her usual green neckerchief. Or her green jacket. She must be really burning up to be in just her workshirt and jeans. “Not every professional bounty hunter is a staunch upholder of the law, Arthur Morgan,” she says matter-of-factly with a lift of her brow.

“I never said that. Didn’t mean it neither. I mean, look who you fell in with, I know better. I just ain’t seen you drink much moonshine.”

“Sure. Always been more of a beer and tequila woman.”

He plops down on his cot and lights a cigarette. “Then what you doin’ runnin’ with moonshiners?”

“Tell me who you stole the liquor off of first, cowboy.”

Arthur concedes. Al is stubborn. “The Braithwaites. And those fellers that run around here with those yellow bandanas. Sadie and I ran into ‘em a few days ago. Uh—”

“Lemoyne Raiders?” She sneers. “I’d hoped someone had snuffed ‘em out by now. Hijo de putas.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette before answering. “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve had some run-ins with ‘em, huh?”

“Like I said, just the once. Three of them stopped me on my way into Rhodes. Brought ‘em into town, dead, which is when I met Sheriff Gray. They didn’t have any bounties on ‘em, so all I got outta one of his deputies was five dollars. I know they weren’t even worth that much, but he coulda paid me more,” she grumbles. Her light Cuban accent comes out more the lower her voice goes.

“Sounds about right. Least ya got paid somethin’.”

“I guess.” She picks at the spine of her book for a moment. “Wasn’t long after that I met a… moonshiner legend, so to say, through a mutual friend. Though friend seems to be pushing it.”

He gets the sense she’s not fully sour on the “friend,” so his shoulders shake in amusement. 

“He was a lot like Uncle, actually.”

“Lord.” Arthur snickers, smoke billowing out of his mouth. 

“Yeah. Not as lazy. Probably younger, but who knows.”

“I reckon Uncle ain’t as old as he wants folks to think. Besides just bein’ too lazy, it’s probably why he don’t trim his beard.”

Al laughs, rougher than usual until she coughs and clears it up. “Damn humidity.”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur agrees, leaning forward and propping one elbow up on his knee. “So, this… moonshiner legend.”

“Ever heard the name Maggie Fike?”

The name isn’t familiar, but it isn’t unfamiliar either. “Don’t think so,” he settles on. 

“Well, she’s been mostly out this way rather than out where y’all been running around. Revenue Agents caught up to her a couple years back, tried burning her alive. Didn’t work, but gave her a nasty scar and bad eye. Almost puts Marston to shame. Almost,” she adds with a grin as he walks between Arthur and Strauss’ tents.

“Take a look in the mirror, Miss Taylor,” he grumbles back. Then he chucks a cigarette butt at a chuckling Arthur. “You too, Morgan.”

John disappears around the side of the tent as Arthur brushes off the butt. “Cranky cause he ain’t had his midday nap.”

“Pick better material.”

Al chuckles and presses the palm of her hand on her hat, affixing it more securely to her head. “Anyway…”

“Anyway…” Arthur sighs lightly. “You said she survived?”

“Yeah, went into hiding for a while. Somehow got a hold of my ‘friend’, who then asked me for help gettin’ her business back on its feet. Easy work at first. Finding a good location for the shack, gettin’ her some supplies, that stuff.” She waves a hand around. “Most folks don’t pay much mind to a bounty hunter buyin’ supplies in bulk like I was or destroying illegal stills. Sometimes I brought in the other moonshiners to the local town to collect on a bounty. Made for a better cover for what I was really doing.”

“Takin’ out the competition.” Arthur chuckles. 

“Exactly. Then came—”

“What the hell are you two talkin’ about anyway?”

Al puts her hand back on her hat before tipping her head back, almost touching the back of the chair, and looks at John, upside down. Arthur leans forward more to get his own look and the rangy outlaw, who’s circled back around to the other side of his wagon. 

“And what the hell is that?” John asks. He’s looking directly at the badge on Arthur’s table, disgust etched into his features. As if it’s some rotting, maggot infested carcass Arthur’s using for decoration.

Arthur sighs and briefly explains again.

“So this is just another excuse for you to play dress-up, eh? Guess I need to tell Hosea you’re itchin’ to go scammin’ with him again.”

“You do that, it’ll be your pecker in the stew pot next meal.”

Al’s crossed her arms over her chest and is watching them with barely contained amusement. “Playing dress-up? I don’t think I’ve seen that side of you yet, Arthur.”

“And you won’t,” he growls. “Only reason Hosea takes me on those jobs is because he knows I hate it. Just once I’d like him to take Marston instead.”

“You sure about that?” Al studies John as if she’s a talent agent in the big city. “Doesn’t he like to avoid mayhem on those jobs?”

John snorts indignantly. “Yeah, well, I’d like to see you try and follow Hosea’s lead. I swear even he don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time.”

“But it works.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly. 

“But it works,” John concedes. 

“Well, next time you go, let me know. I’d love to watch y’all work.”

“Whatever,” John grumbles as he waves her off and saunters away. Apparently he’s given up on butting into their conversation.

“I ain’t pullin’ that type of job with Hosea again. What we had set up in Blackwater, sure, but not...” Arthur wags a finger in the air, then unfurls the rest of his fingers and waves his hand once before letting it fall back in his lap. “Not that. The girls and Trelawny are much better’n me anyway. Safer that way.”

Al shrugs. “I won’t argue that.”

“So, back to what you was sayin’?” Arthur’s not willing to let the moonshiner story drop. It’s not often she lets down her walls and tells stories of her past that don’t directly involve some bounty she’s nabbed. He knows what happened to her family, but that had been a moment he wasn’t meant to see, and neither of them have ever brought it up again.

“So after we get a shack set up, she gets word of where this old buddy of hers is, go rescue him so he can make our moonshine. Not long after that, her nephew’s gettin’ moved from Sisika, so I go rescue him.”

Arthur pulls the cigarette from his lips and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wagon. “Just you against a bunch of lawmen?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Morgan,” she drawls, lolling her head to the side.

“Suppose I shouldn’t be,” he chuckles.

“No, actually, I had a couple friends with me, cashed in on some favors. I’m not stupid or reckless enough to take on an armed prison transport.”

Arthur just shrugs. “Woulda believed you either way.”

“You’re too trusting,” she remarks. There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, but her eyes sparkle with something else. 

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Well, we bring them back to the shack, get the business up and running. Enact some revenge on a rival of hers in the meantime, I get to kill the agent who tried to burn her. Spent about a year with them. I didn’t do a lot of the actual running of moonshine, one of those friends who helped me break out Maggie’s nephew, Lem, did most of that. I focused on taking out the competition, clearing out Revenue Agent roadblocks when we were sure we couldn’t sneak past them. The real dirty work. But I didn’t mind, kept me moving, out of the government’s crosshairs enough that I could keep killin’ those damn agents.”

Arthur cocks his head curiously. But she isn’t done talking, so he lets her continue, holding onto his question for now.

“Couple months before I ran into y’all, I told them I’d have to leave. I’d spent so much time in this area, couldn’t… Needed to get out and go back out west. See some old friends, see some open country. They reckoned they’d be fine without me, but threw them the name of another friend I knew’d be able to help them, pick up my slack.”

“So… you think they’re still runnin’ that shine?”

“No reason not to. Never heard anything about her being captured. Got a letter from them while I was in Blackwater, actually. They’re doin’ well.” She gives a fond, reminiscent smile. “That friend is working with Maggie now, too. Dunno how she stands him, but…”

“Good. Since we’re over this way, you plannin’ on seein’ ‘em?”

“They’re north, Roanoke Ridge territory. Might, if I feel safe leavin’ you fools by yourself for more than a week.”

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head. “I reckon we can survive without ya for that long.”

“With all the trouble you been causing lately? I don’t think so, Mr. Morgan.” Al fans herself with her book, smirking at Arthur pointedly.

“I actually got another question for ya,” he diverts.

“Shoot.”

“I been thinkin’ about this since you got here, but now, knowin’ how much you seem to hate the Revenue Agents, how come you’re a bounty hunter, takin’ payouts from the government, but runnin’ with a bunch’a outlaws? After a year of runnin’ shine, that is.”

A simple shrug is her reply, and the pause is so long Arthur isn’t sure she’ll actually give him an explanation, until, “You have your code, I have mine.”

“Huh,” he grunts. They watch each other casually for a long moment, then he asks, “You gonna explain?”

He can see her weigh her options, and eventually she relents. “You know…” Her expression immediately tells him what she means: her past, what happened to her. 

“Yeah,” he offers quietly.

“Well, nobody’s born a seasoned gunslinger. When I first started bounty hunting, I had to take the easier targets. Most big pay days, or the jobs that are good start for those of us that’re green, they’re people who rob banks with a pen, rich people doing rich people crimes. They’re soft, easy, and all it really takes to catch them is knowing the land better and being tougher than city folk. Which ain’t hard at all. So, until I could stand on my own, those were the only kinds I took. Then I started goin’ after the bastards I really wanted to. People like the Johnson Brothers.”

She nearly spits the name. Arthur feels the sting in her soul.

“I never take those soft bounties anymore,” she continues after a deep breath, seeming more like herself again with every word. “Unless I need a break. But it’s been a while since I have.”

“Been a while since you took a bounty at all.”

She must notice the question in his voice. Not judgement, but question. “No. You’ve been kicking up too much fuss. Wouldn’t be smart for me to be seen around town here more than once or twice.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. While it is mostly true, it’s about all he’s going to get out of her, but he knows the real reason why. Even if she won’t admit it to herself. “Got me there, Al.”

“Not hard to do, Arthur.”

[comfy-whumpee]

NaNoWriMo Extract 1

As my writing brain has been taken over by this (admittedly whumpy) project, I thought I'd share some of the story. As it’s NaNo, it is all extremely first-draft and you will likely see typos and awkward phrasing.

It was on the third anniversary of their escape, and there was no way it was a coincidence.

Rain was the one who opened the door. Draped in an oversized woollen cardigan, dyed a faded forest green and hanging over their hands with the sleeves too long, they were the unassuming one of the duo living at the seaside cottage. Their hair was tousled as though they had just woken up, though it was 11am. Hazel eyes gleamed in a round, serene face, with nothing but the slightest purse of the lips to indicate that Rain did not enjoy receiving visitors.

Their tranquillity shattered when the door swung wide and revealed a skinny, pale man with shaggy blond hair around a stubble-smattered face, hugging his elbows in a half-slump on the doorstep.

The door slammed shut again before Rain knew what they were doing, and they stumbled back. The floorboards were dark and slippery under their bed socks as they paced back, back again, and their shoulder bumped into the doorframe to the kitchen.

"Rain?"

Footsteps clumped towards them, and a vision of brown skin and black clothes moved across their blurry sight. Fingers moved to rest on their cheek, tipping their head up gently. A beautiful face with dark, shadowy eyes came into focus.

"Hhh," Rain tried to speak, and realised suddenly that they were barely breathing.

There was another knock on the door. Why was he knocking?

"Breathe, raincloud." A deep, warm voice, the sound of safety. "Breathe, you know how."

Rain's chest stuttered and jerked, and the air poured down their throat. "Hh-he's here," they wheezed. "He's here."

Thick brows pulled down over her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Rain nodded, up-down-down-up, shivering with the effort. "I-I'm sure."

She didn't ask any further questions. She pulled her hand back. "Go to the bathroom upstairs. Lock yourself in. You're going to be okay, I promise."

They nodded, down-up-down, and at her gentle nudge, they hurried upstairs. Their ears were ringing. Uncoordinated limbs managed to climb the staircase until they were on the next floor, and after a brief, panic-induced hesitation where they couldn't remember where the bathroom was – they scurried into it and closed the door, pulling the bolt over.

From downstairs, they heard the patter of another knock on their door.

Then, all there was left to do was sit down on the edge of the bath and try to catch their breath. In and out, they knew how. They can breathe. They can breathe.

-

Kala was doing her morning stretches when the door slammed, sending a bang through the house and reaching her all the way out in the back garden.

She was running inside immediately, abandoning her yoga met and dumbbells to the grass. Through the kitchen, and she found Rain pressed against the wall beside the door, eyes wide and face drained out to  sickly tan instead of their usual warm beige.

He's here. Rain was sure. They rarely said things they weren't sure of, but she had to ask anyway. She had to be sure herself. If it wasn't that guy, and she was about to open the door to a stranger, she would probably get in legal trouble, given what she was planning on doing.

She waited until she heard the bathroom door lock. Rain didn't have to be part of this. They wouldn't be able to stand up to this guy gain; that much was clear enough.

Kala stretched her shoulder muscles and glanced around for any likely weapons. Short of an umbrella, there didn't seem to be anything useful. Better to use her own fists.

The bastard knocked again. Why the fuck would he do this? There was nothing to gain.

She sighed, she rolled her neck, and she strode to the door. Five, four, three, two, and she pulled it open.

One split-second pause to check that the face of the visitor was the same face that had haunted their nightmares for years. One momentary hesitation. And then she lashed, knowing she wouldn't get another chance.

To her surprise, when the blow swung out, he looked at it, but didn't crumble. It smacked into his nose and he blinked dazedly.

"Get the fuck out of here!" Kala shouted, hoping someone from the neighbourhood notice that she has a fucking wanted criminal on her doorstep trying to get in.

Two bony hands clutched his face, and Kala noticed bruises across the knuckles. Fuck, what poor bastard had he beaten up recently? She moved forwards again, filling the doorway. "Get the fuck away from us before I call the fucking cops."

Yeah, said the cynical voice in her head, because a trans woman of colour punching a white guy is going to end well for you.

He still didn't move. He lowered his hands slowly, and the look in his eyes was panicked, even confused. She didn't move an inch as he blinked again, blood trickling from one nostril, and after a pause, he spoke in a hoarse voice. "I'm sorry, I..."

Icy wind flew up her spine and she grabbed him by the collar of his ragged flannel shirt. "Shut up and leave!" she barked, over the sudden pounding of her heart at hearing his voice again. "Leave us alone!"

"I need help," he croaked. The panic in his eyes was real. "P-Please." He stepped closer, almost to the threshold, and Kala instinctively stepped back, letting go of the door to raise her arms defensively. "Please, I-I don't remember - I don't know where I am or - or who."

"Bullshit," she spat. "Bullshit, what the fuck are you playing at? Get out of here or I'll fucking tackle you. You're not hurting me again. You're not hurting Rain."

His eyes widen, and fuck, he must be a good actor to be pulling this off. But that's all it is, that's all it can be, an act. It's an act. He's the same fucking monster he always was. "I don't - I don't want to hurt anyone, I... Please." Another step forwards, and he was in the house, stare plaintive, hands - shaking? How was he getting his hands to shake like that? "Please," he said again.

"Rot in hell," she snapped, but her voice was tight. He was too close. The blood was crimson down his face and some buried instinct told her she would pay for that. Or - Rain would.

"Kala?"

Fuck, speak of the devil. She didn't turn. "Stay back, Rain. He's pulling some shit."

"I heard." Their voice was calm, diffident, as their footsteps descended the stairs. "He says he can't remember anything?"

"He says," Kala said, as the weasel man before her nodded, turning his sad grey eyes up to her best friend.

"You don't know your name?"

He shook his head.

"You don't know who we are?"

He shook his head again.

"But you're here."

His gaze dropped. Caught in a fucking lie.

"I... I-I remember the address, I knew it was - somewhere important." He hesitated, fingers coming up to tug through his tangled ponytail. "I don't... I didn't know it was, that I was someone who hurt you."

"Mm." Rain took another step, and Kala felt their hand slip around her elbow, holding her back from lashing out again. "You want us to help you?"

Surely the guy didn't have the fucking nerve.

"Yes, please," he said, staring at the floorboards now. From this angle, she could see there were more bruises under his shirt, clustered around the neckline of the tank top he was wearing under it.

Rain thought. Kala let them. They were the brains of the outfit. "I think we might. But we have to do some things to keep ourselves safe, you know? This house has an attic, Kala, do you think he could have that as his room?"

The attic wasn't a room. It was bare rafters and beams, with a square of floor in the middle that was little more than corkboard. "Yeah, if you... If that's what you want, Rain," she agreed. "Come on. Up the stairs, and don't try anything fucking funny."

"I won't," came the quick reply, and his eyes were slightly wide, disgustingly earnest. "Thank you," he turned to Rain, "thank you."

[daydreaming-nerd]

Moon River (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Bucky has a nightmare and the reader hears him and comes to take care of him the only way she can think of.

Warnings: Nightmare, bucky has a panic attack, shy bucky, friends to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, like guys the end is so fluffy I can’t let me tell you this a feel good story. 

an: here’s an old draft I’ve been saving for a rainy day. It’s inspired by Moon River from Breakfast at Tiffany’s! Here’s the inspo for this whole fic. 

It was just another night at the tower. My bare feet padded across the cold hardwood floor towards the kitchen to fill up my water cup. As I was waiting for my glass to fill I looked out at the city lights. Most people prefer mountains and valleys but I’ve always preferred the twinkling lights on the black sky. 

As if on queue I heard a scream coming from one of the rooms. A scream that was so loud I could feel it go through my ears and down my spine causing my body to shudder.

I ran as fast as I could towards the rooms. It didn’t take me long to realize it was coming from Bucky’s room. When I threw open the door I expected at least a dozen intruders and one very injured Bucky, but instead I found him thrashing around in his bed screaming so loud his throat must feel like sand paper. 

I ran over to him and immediately tried to wake him up.

“Bucky! Bucky wake up!” I screamed shaking his shoulders. “BUCKY WAKE UP ITS JUST A DREAM!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

All of the sudden he woke up and before I could even ask him if he was okay he started to panic. Shaking and crying he latched onto me burying his head in my chest. His rapid breaths hitting the neckline of my tank top. 

I would be completely lying if it said I knew exactly what to do in this situation. I had never talked to Bucky before now. If it wasn’t for my close friendship with Steve I’m sure he wouldn’t even know my name. Never the less we were practically strangers, yet here he sat clinging to me like I was the first human he had seen in ten years. I thought hard and fast about what always relaxes me. I started by lying down on my back so he was lying on top of me. Immediately after my brain ran to a song from my favorite move and I figured there was no way I could make it any worse. As I begun to sing I ran my hand up and down his back in a soothing manner. 

Moon river, wider than a mile

I'm crossing you in style some day.

Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker

Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

Two drifters, off to see the world

There's such a lot of world to see.

We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend

My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me...

Almost as soon as it had all started it ended. Bucky sat fast asleep on top of me and I didn’t dare move. I would get up earlier in the morning to avoid the awkwardness. 

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

When I woke up the next morning I totally missed my mark. I sat in an empty bed where Bucky used to be. I sighed and walked out into the kitchen. There he was at the stove making scrambled eggs. My favorite mug was sitting on the counter filled with coffee. 

“Hi” Bucky said shyly turning around to put his eggs on a plate.

“Hi,” I said back. 

“I uh- I made you some coffee,” he said nodding towards my mug immediately casting his head down as if I were about to disapprove of the gesture.

“Thank you,” I said sitting down with it.

A silence ensued. Both of us knew what had happened last night but neither of us wanted to say anything. I wanted to tell him it was okay and that my heart went out to him. That he could always come to me. But the fact that we were still technically strangers silenced me. 

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be it happens to everyone,” I said.

“Not as frequently though,” he said sadly.

“Well don’t be ashamed, I know you don’t really know me but I’m always here for you if you need it,” 

“Thank you,” he said with a small smile.

I have to admit part of me hoped he would want to see me again.

--------------------------- 

The next time I heard from Bucky Barnes was when I got back from my run to find pink peonies sitting on my nightstand with a note scribbled in his handwriting.

I’m sorry again...thank you y/n.

-Bucky

I immediately changed and walked to the gym where I saw him training before I left. He has just finished up and was leaving.

“Thank you for the flowers,” I said.

“Oh-oh you’re welcome,” he said bashfully a red tint coming to his cheeks.

“I had to know,” I started “How did you know pink peonies were my favorite?” 

“I uh- I asked Steve,” He said scratching the back of his neck “Sorry thats probably really creepy” he added embarrassed. 

“No it’s not creepy, it’s sweet,” I said with a smile before walking towards the showers.

“Hey y/n can I ask you something?” Bucky said.

“Yes of course,”

“What was that song last night?” He said

“It’s called Moon River, it’s from my favorite movie Breakfast At Tiffany’s” I replied.

“Moon river,” he repeated to himself “I’ll remember that” he said walking towards his room.

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

I didn’t hear from Bucky for three days after that. I had assumed that all was well until one night I was woken up by F.R.I.D.A.Y around 4am 

“Miss l/n, it appears Mr. Barnes is in a high amount of distress. He is requesting your presence in his room.” 

I threw off my covers and ran straight to his room. When I got there I expected to see him in the middle of another bad dream but instead he just sat straight up on his bed still semi tucked into the covers wearing only an old pair of sweats. He let out a sniffle and when I sat down next to him I could tell that he had not slept since the last time I spoke to him. 

I reached my hand out to cup his face and he leaned into my touch and looked at me with the saddest eyes in the world. I got up and sat on his lap and pulled him into my chest thinking I could hug all the sad out of him. 

“What happened?” I asked running a hand through his hair.

“I thought I could just listen to the song and it would put me to sleep that way I wouldn’t bother you. But it’s not the same if you don’t sing it to me,” He said wrapping his arms around me to keep me put. 

“Come here,” I said lying down just like I did the first night and began singing to him.

When I was sure he was sound asleep I tried to wiggle out of his grasp so he could sleep more soundly. I almost succeeded when I felt Bucky stir.

“Please don’t go,” he said half asleep.

If there was one thing I couldn’t say no to it was Bucky Barnes.

So I climbed back into his bed and he instantly wrapped his arm around me only to rip it away.

“What’s wrong Buck?” I said.

“My metal arm. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said sadly already turning around to face away from me.

“You won’t hurt me Buck I promise,” I said grabbing his metal arm and pulling him towards me again. 

He didn’t protest he just rolled back over and wrapped his metal arm around me. The vibranium was cold but I didn’t mind because it reminded me that Bucky was with me. 

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

I woke up the next morning with the light of the sun on my face. I could hear Bucky’s steady breathing behind me. I peaked behind me to find he was still asleep.

I started getting out of bed only to have his hand clench around my waist. I giggled to myself and slowly pried his hand off getting out of bed. I stopped to look at him. He was so peaceful, this way despite the small look of disapproval that had subconsciously took over his face when I wiggled away from his grasp. I tip toed into the kitchen to start making breakfast. 

I was on my last Mickey Mouse shaped pancake when I heard a familiar voice.

“I feel like I should be the one making you breakfast,” Bucky said walking towards the plate of bacon next to me and the stove. 

“You had a rough night last night, and besides I felt like making Mickey pancakes,” I replied.

I put a plate together and handed it to him.

“Thanks doll,” he said blushing.

He sat down at the counter and all of the sudden the name he had just given me had sunk in leaving butterflies in my stomach.

“Doll?” I questioned.

“I’m uh... I’m sorry it slipped,” He said getting flustered. 

“Don’t be sorry I liked it,” I smiled setting down my plate across from his. 

I started eating a piece of bacon and then he got his courage to speak again.

“This is really good,” he started “Thank you again”

“Don’t mention it, I’d never pass up the opportunity to make Mickey pancakes. Disney is kinda my thing,” 

“I remember when Snow White came out, Bambi too. I always liked Bambi better.” he said before taking another bite.

“Bambi is one of my favorite’s as well. You know when you go to an art gallery and look at a painting and try to imagine the world inside of it and the story inside that world? That’s what I think watching Bambi is like.” I said.

“I never thought of it like that,” he said.

We both shoved another enormous bite on our mouths

“You know, I’ve never actually seen Breakfast At Tiffany’s,” he confessed.  

“It’s an older movie, not as old as you, but old” I joked.

“Ouch,” he smiled.

“Don’t worry Barnes, you look pretty good for an old man,” I said with a wink putting my plate in the sink and walking towards my room. “8 o’clock tonight” 

“8 o’clock tonight for what?” he asked.

“Watching Breakfast At Tiffany’s of course!”

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

From that night forward I had fallen head over heels for the soldier. Something about him just pulled me in and made me feel safe, made me feel like I had come home after being gone for years. We did everything together but Bucky was still shy with me at times. Never really opening up just always there beside me. The team made fun of him calling him my shadow. I never faulted him for it though. He might’ve been the one to always come find me and ask me what I was up to but in reality I was the one always hoping he would. Most nights he could make it through without needing me to save him from a nightmare but whenever he did I was always there to sing Moon River to him.

Two months passed and another one of my birthdays had arrived faster than I wanted it to. I was never a fan of birthdays. For me the whole experience was terribly awkward. Which would explain as to why I never let the team know. 

I had gone most of the day being able to avoid everyone just in case, but I knew at some point a certain soldier would be knocking at my door and honestly I didn’t mind.

When that quiet little knock finally did come though I told him to come in. He walked in holding a box wrapped in yesterdays newspaper.

“Happy Birthday doll,” he said  sitting down on the bed next to me handing me the box.

“Oh Bucky you shouldn’t have” I said giving him a hug. 

“Natasha said I should’ve used prettier wrapping paper but I didn’t even know how to wrap a present let alone how to make it pretty and I really hope that’s okay-” he rambled.

“shhhh Bucky I love it already,” I said starting to tear the newspaper off. 

Once I got all the paper off I opened the package and inside was a silver box shaped like a heart. 

“Oh Bucky it’s-”

“I wanted to give you something from Tiffany but I couldn’t afford it,”He said sadly. “So I did the next best thing,” he said insinuating for me to open the box.

I lifted the silver lid and music started to play. It was a music box, a music box that played Moon River. The inside of the lid was engraved, it said ‘For my best girl’ 

Tears started to fill my eyes. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was.

“What is it doll? Do you not like it?” Bucky said anxiously.

“In all my years, no ones ever given me such a beautiful and thoughtful gift. Bucky I absolutely love it,” I said letting a few tears fall down my face. 

“y/n, I love you,” He blurted out.

“Bucky I-” 

“Wait that’s not on my script,” he started “y/n I love you. I love how you can never make regular pancakes because you think it’s a waste of batter to not make them look like Mickey Mouse. I love how you make me feel like I’m the only person in the world. I love how I miss you even when you’re just down the hall. I love how you help me understand technology without being condescending. I love how soft your skin is and how you always smell like vanilla and strawberries. I love how calm your voice is and how beautiful you look when the sunrises and you’re still asleep. I love how you always feel like home to me even when I haven’t felt that feeling since 1945. I love how two months ago when you heard me screaming you came in and took care of me even though you didn’t even know me. And I just- I love you! And I know I don’t deserve you and I know you must think I’m a fool, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer.” he said.

“Bucky, I love you too.” I smiled

“You do?” he asked stunned at my response. 

“Of course I do! How could I not?” I laughed 

“You’re not just saying this to make me happy right?”

“No Bucky I really do love you,” I beamed.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

“You better!”

Without another word he grabbed the back of my neck and connected our lips. It was everything I ever wanted it to be. He was soft and gentle, every word he said to me came to life in that kiss as his lips moved against mine. Before things got too heated we pulled apart.

“You’re mine?” He said pressing his forehead to mine smiling. 

“All yours Barnes,” I said sealing my promise with a kiss.

PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT IF YOU LIKED IT! GETTING A FEEDBACK FROM YOU GUYS IS THE REASON I WRITE! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED IT AS MUCH AS I LOVED WRITING IT! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! THANK YOU! STAY SAFE AND STAY HEALTHY <3

[t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o]

Untitled

Werewolf x Shawn

This is just a first part, I don’t know if I want to continue it. I had high hopes for this piece but it’s literally been sitting in my drafts for a year. Let me know what you think, and if you have any ideas for a title because I do not.

Warnings: blood, action, I don’t think there are any swear words.

Word Count: 1,930

The first time Shawn meets you, he’s 13 and he’s helping his mum in her home clinic. Karen is by the sink cleaning up after her latest patient.

“Grab my bag Shawn now!” She tells him before running out the door. He grabs her medical supplies and rushes after her. The sight before him almost making him throw up his pancakes from breakfast.

You’ve collapsed to your knees, covered in blood with a large wolf in front of you. You’re sobbing unintelligible words at his mother while she tries to console you. Her hands and eyes trained on the brown wolf in front of her. It’s chest barley moving as you hold onto it’s neck. Fingers threaded through brown fur, with it seeming to be consoling both of you.

[[MORE]]

“Y/N, where is Maki hurt?” Karen asks calmly, while you start hiccuping.

“H his chest. It got him in the chest.” She tells the doctor, sniffling and trying to take deep breaths.

“Shawn, go call her parents. Valarie and Michael, their number is on the fridge.” Karen tells her son, he stares before she says his name sternly. Causing him to rush off for the back steps again.

“Can you help me carry him into the house?” You nod numbly before holding his upper body while she grabs his lower half. Maki leting out a soft whine, before you shush him soothingly.

“Alright and up here, go and sit down sweetheart.” You shake your head, tears coming down your face again. Feeling the pain coursing through Maki as it filters through him. Your hands gripping his back leg, fingers pulling his pain away from him the best you can.

“They’re on their way.” Shawn mumbles as he comes back into the room.

“Grab the pain packs off the table, the dilaudid.” Karen tells her son, working quickly to get the wolf in front of her comfortable. He moves to grab the IV supplies and pain medications, before helping her hold his arm down.

“Shh Maki it’s okay.” You whisper sniffling quietly, he stills as they push the needle into his arm. Your head turning as you hear your parents car pulling up, both of them getting out. Their foot steps rushing up the stairs, before the door swings open.

“What happened?” Your mother asks as she comes over to her nephew, gasping at the pool of blood underneath him. You start crying harder, trying to keep your hands on him.

“Come here peanut.” Michael murmurs as he gently pulls you away, kissing your head.

“It’s okay, what happened?” He asks you softly, getting you into a chair against the wall.

“W we were running through the woods, chasing a butterfly. I I tripped and rolled down a bit before I slammed into someone. Maki came running down too and they ended up getting into a fight.” You explain hiccuping again, resting against his chest.

“He’s burning right through the pain medication.” Karen murmurs, trying to stitch your cousin up. Your mum helping to hold him down, pinning his hind legs. Tilting her head slightly as the smell of your blood fills her nose.

“Sweetheart you’re bleeding.” Michael says looking down at your ribcage. Before the only alpha in the room can say anything, the mated couple seeming to be on the same wave length.

“W what?” You murmur, confusion spreading through your features. His fingers moving across your sides to feel for injuries. Stopping when he gets to your left side under your sports bra and across your ribcage. Your dark green tank top torn and soaked in your own blood.

“Shawn, get bandages and apply pressure to her side.” Karen tell her son, while he stands in the background. Coming to terms with all of the wolves in the room. He looks over at you before rushing to grab the cloths.

“H here.” He stammers, watching as your father lifts your arm up to inspect your side.

“It might need stitches...it isn’t healing.” Michael murmurs to himself, brows furrowing as he presses the gauze pads to your sides.

“It’ll be okay...I’m Shawn.” The boy offers as he looks at you, trying to draw your attention from your cousin. Your bright amber eyes flick over to his face, fangs baring slightly as pain finally courses through you. Adrenaline having worn off, your hands beginning to shake in your lap.

“Y/N.” You murmur, feeling your dad’s fingers press into your side a little harder.

“That’s a pretty name, do you like butterflies?” You nod slightly and whimper quietly feeling Maki’s pain again. Your own mixing in, causing your eyes to shut as tears well on your waterline.

“Hey hey it’s okay!” Shawn begs, reaching for your bare knee and resting his fingers on it gently. You look down at his hand before your eyes meet again.

“He’s gonna be okay, my mum is the best.” He promises, rubbing his thumb against your knee cap gently. Looking over at the table and seeing both women bent over the large wolf. Quietly talking to each other, your mother’s hands never leaving Maki’s side.

~25 minutes later~

“When he shifts back I will dose him again with medicine.” Karen says as she and Valarie come out of the bedroom off to the left.

“Okay sweetheart, let me see your side?” Michael gently helps you up onto the cleaned table, Shawn tossing away dirty towels. watching carefully as he gets ready to grab pain medication for you.

“You’re going to need some stitches, this isn’t healing. What kind of wolves were they?” Karen asks as she gently lays you back, propping you with a pillow behind your spine.

Your body tilted as she stands behind you, your left arm above your head. Exposing your side to the warm air of the cabin, her gentle fingers inspecting you further.

“I’m okay mama.” You say as Valarie comes and kneels in front of you. Her hand resting on your forearm, nose brushing yours. Forehead resting against your cheek gently before she takes a deep breath in of your scent.

“You’re sure pup?” She whispers, you nod slightly before wincing when Karen starts cleaning off your wounds. Shawn’s stomach twisting, wanting to help but knowing he needs to stay out of the way.

“You’re such a strong pup...brought Maki all the way here. Did you carry him?” Your mom asks you, brushing your hair from your eyes. Her voice soft and gentle, a tone she only ever uses with her littlest and youngest pup.

“Had to drag him, he’s heavier than he looks.”

You reply, getting a quiet chuckle to leave her mouth. A smile matching your own gracing her face, your father even cracking a smile in the background.

“Yes he is, isn’t he?” Shawn smiles softly as he watches you both. Almost feeling the bond between alpha and wolf pup. His mother working quickly as she stitches you up. Making sure not to make any sudden moves or touches on your skin.

“What kind of wolves were they?” Valarie asks the question from earlier, able to hear how your heart has evened out. Body relaxing as much as it can, knowing your alpha is there to take care of you.

“I think alphas...maybe a beta. But they smelt weird...like dead leaves or rotting meat.” You mumble, wincing when Karen gets closer to your stomach. Shawn bites his lip as he watches, itching to touch you, just wanting to comfort. Valarie nodding her head slightly as she breathes deeply through her nose. Already planning her next move in her head, knowing she has to take care of it soon.

“I’ll be right back pup.” Valarie says quietly, kissing your head gently. Your eyes closing as you hear Shawn’s heart beat, his soft nutmeg scent filling your nose.

“Okay sweetheart you’re done.”

“Can I stay with Maki?” You murmur, drowsiness starting to take affect. Adrenaline completely leaving your system as you yawn into your hand slightly.

“We’ll make a cot up for you, and get some food in you.” Karen says gently helping you sit up, your mom coming back inside.

“My sweet pup, come on let’s get some food for you. Then Maki can see you when he wakes up, dad is with him right now.” Valarie says as she gently lifts you. Your arms and legs coiling around her neck and waist.

“Shawn, can you make her some eggs and toast please?” Karen asks, looking at her son as she cleans the table up. He nods a bit and goes to the kitchen, watching as both of your parents cuddle you.

“I put some cheese in them...I hope that’s okay.” Shawn says as he comes into the dim room, looking at your tired face. Color coming back to your cheeks as you rest against the wall your makeshift bed is against.

“I like cheese.” You respond nodding your head and taking the plate from him gratefully. Shawn looks over to see Maki has shifted back, a blanket pulled up to his stomach. The slashes across his chest almost matching yours.

“You’re pretty tough aren’t you?” Shawn asks looking back at you, while you raise a brow in questioning.

“I mean...to have been able to help your cousin like that. It’s really cool, I would never be able to do something like that.” He quickly adds on, nervousness making his heart jump slightly. You tilt your head towards him, leg moving so your ankle subconsciously touches his knee cap.

“Maki did most of it...I just got in the way.”

“But you got him to safety, and you saved his life. If you hadn’t of been with him, who knows what could have happened.” Shawn argues, you nod a bit and chew your food slowly. Your ankle not moving from his knee, your eyes slipping closed again.

“Thank you Shawn.” You murmur once you’ve finished the plate of eggs.

“You’re welcome Y/N.” He replies, taking your dishes before slowly leaving the room. You curl up on the cot next to your cousin’s bed, being mindful of your stitches. Before your eyes slowly drift closed, brain starting to shut down after the eventful day.

~2 weeks later~

“Dr. Karen?” You ask as you come into the cabin.

“Oh...hey my mum just went to get us lunch.” Shawn says as he comes out of a room, holding a baby raccoon. The critter drinking from a bottle, greedy sucks coming from his mouth.

“Oh...I’m sorry for barging in. My mum wanted me to bring these for you both as a thank you.” You say holding up the picnic basket full of baked goods. He nods a bit and steps over to take the basket. The raccoon chittering softly as it’s eyes land on you.

“Hi buddy.” You murmur gently scratching between his ears, the baby seeming to melt. Pushing up towards your hand, forgetting about the bottle full of formula.

“It took me four days to get him to let me touch him.” Shawn grumbles watching your fingers effortlessly run through the animals fur.

“My mama says I have the ‘touch’ with animals...and people.” You respond looking up at him with soft eyes. Shawn smiles softly as he scans over your face slightly.

“Yea...I can see that.” He tells you honestly, getting a quiet laugh to leave your mouth.

“Well I better get going...gotta train with Lyssa...I’ll see you later Shawn.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.” He watches as you leave with a final scratch under the raccoons chin. Before stepping out of the back door, letting the screen close behind you.

Taglist

@shawnm521 @justanothershawngirl @esoltis280 @nervousaroundmendes @yellowitsmendes @sinfulshawn @rosecth @song-bird-shawn @artemissravenclaw @planstonightbaby @dancingafterdeath @someoneunimportantxx

[edencantstopfallininlove]

Esprit de Corps

Content Warnings: Coming out, epiphanies, hugs, pathetic fallacy, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF

A/N: Since my coming-out experience with my family could've gone slightly better, I decided I'd finish this thing that had been sitting in my drafts for a while. Writing it has helped me immensely and I hope you like it! Dhar and I are bi/pan solidarity!

For context, this is set after the endgame, a short while before Heather's graduation exam; the two are staying in Heather's student accommodation. And they have a nice porch!

@selfship-pride​

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"Can I have a word with you? It's important."

Those nine words seemed to come out of nowhere for Dhar. Up until now, Heather had gone about her note-taking on topics that (frankly) eluded him, with total focus. But now, she had placed her trusty book to one side and looked his way expectantly.

Well. Whatever it was, he conceded that it would be better to address it now than to leave it until later.

"Of course," he said, taking the free space on the porch seat. His presence summoned a warmth in Heather's mind; it was a safe feeling, like when a cat curls up in one's lap. It was almost enough for her to ignore the barrage of rain hitting the shelter above them.

But every time she tried to start a sentence, she found her voice trailing off before she could get to the point. Her grayish-blue eyes never seemed to find a place to rest. It was in the middle of this half-rambling that Dhar quietly slinked his hands into hers, squeezing them ever so slightly to get her attention.

"Heather, you're trembling and I can't understand a word you're trying to say. I'm not going to let you speak until you've calmed down a little. Breathe with me."

And so it was, with him leading his beloved through a simple breathing exercise. In through the nose, out through the mouth. As she exhaled, the tension in Heather's head slowly faded into the background. Once he was sure that Heather had reached that natural place of rest, Dhar squeezed Heather's hands once again.

"Better."

"Look," she said, "I know you probably don't want me to waffle on, so I'll just come right out with it." A deep breath. "I'm pan."

Dhar looked at her in silence for a few seconds before cocking his head to one side. "I can't say I know what that means," he said. "Please, explain it to me."

Heather was prepared for this.

"Well, since I was a teenager, I thought I could be interested in, well, more than just guys? I thought about it long and hard - several years really - and I realised that attraction to all these different genders felt more or less the same, so I guess it's not a defining factor. See, some people think that bisexuality and pansexuality are one and the same, and that's not true. I've been around bi people, and I've noticed that some are attracted to multiple genders but not all, and some experience attraction differently for different genders."

She let go of Dhar's hands, stimming by fiddling slightly with the wrist of one of her white gloves. "I hope that's cleared it up, but-"

"You know something?" His comment prompted her to let go and look back up at him. His gaze now carried with it a sense of pleasant surprise. "That last part sounds a lot like myself. I'll admit that I had crushes on one or two men senior to me, but loving them felt different somehow to loving women, and especially to loving you."

"Course it does! I'm the love of your life, aren't I?"

"You don't have to be so blunt about it…" Dhar let out an exasperated sigh as Heather giggled in satisfaction; still, being wound up was worth it to ease the tension. She needed the opportunity to say that. "I suppose that means I'm bi, right?"

"If you want to call yourself that, yes!"

Dhar nodded. Yes, that felt just right.

"Look at you finding a label you can work with! Gods, that makes me so happy… But still, I just hope the way I am doesn't, you know, weird you out or anything."

"Of course not. You're still the same amazing person that I love, and I no longer have any doubt in my mind that you feel the same way about me. We just know a little bit more about each other now. Can I..." Despite himself, his eyes grew misty as he placed a single hand on Heather's shoulder. "Can I hug you?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Come here."

With that little bit of confirmation, Heather found herself wrapped in the comfort of Dhar's strong, but still tender, arms. Instinctively, she returned the gesture, soothing him in turn as they both quietly expressed their mutual relief. How cathartic it was to have each others’ shoulders to cry on... When it was finally time for them to let go, Dhar simply looked back at Heather with a softness reserved only for her.

"Thank you for telling me," he said, voice still a tad brittle from crying. "And if anyone tries to make you feel lesser because of who you are, they'll have to answer to my sword. I'll always have your back, my dearest."

"The same to you, Dhar. No matter what, I'm in your corner." Heather, not content with leaving her partner to deal with the aftermath by himself, leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. He let out a soft laugh as she lightly kissed his tears away.

The rain finally passed, leaving cosy sunlight in its wake.