#there used to be teachers sitting around the village that would teach people shit just to to it...fuck lollygagging and dilly dallying

[minksextremeunction]

If I were alive back then I would simply be a BookWorm or I would be a craftsman.....I help make books......I would def just lay there and do fuck all I would fish sell it and then sit on my ass and just listen to the birds and watch the waves lap the shore all day and maybe press and observe some local wildlife 😭😭

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

I have decided our OC is a girl now in the Feral Neighbours AU. Her name is Haru. And she’s… weird.

-She grew up in a tiny village and like from a young age she was Odd. I mean she’s a reincarnation of an adult from another world who remembers shit.

-her parents died when she was 8 and she ended up fucking off with a Hunter. Hunters being those who roam the lands going after chakra enhanced animals because they’re an invasive species.

-Her teacher was a Uzumaki man who told her about caches containing Uzumaki things after making her promise to pass this info on if she ever meets a Uzumaki while dramatically dying.

-Haru “This is dumb I’m avoiding them all but okay since it’s his dying wish.” Ten years later: “FUCK”

-Haru is just… not normal. It’s partly the reincarnation thing. Partly cause her life has been fucking weird since she was born. She was raised by loving parents, her mother the local coroner and her father the local chemist. Her grandfather was probably a retired missing nin. She doesn’t know. She got raised by these three before getting swept up to roam the world while hunting with a Uzumaki who had no idea how to parent or teach.

-Haru’s dog is named Barkspawn and is the offspring of a summon and a normal dog that got abandoned cause he’s a bit different then normal pups. Haru found him and they’ve been besties ever since. He’s the only one who knows everything. He thinks the whole ‘oh god my neighbour is Kakashi’ thing is funny.

-Haru has no idea how to be civilian. She just doesn’t. She’s a Hunter who went after very dangerous animals (and sometimes minor bandits or mercenaries who needed a quick death) and has been on the move for years. She is a very good buisness woman but being a normal civilian? Ha. She would have always fallen in with Shinobi.

-Haru is 100% bisexual as fuck. She does not hide this. Which the Shinobi folk accept because ‘I might die tomorrow who cares’. The civilians… Konoha is very progressive and not everyone cares to much but there is still: expectations and shit and most assume it’s strictly until she settles down. *deranged laughter*

-Haru and Kakashi only get along cause of their dogs at first. Haru is Busy with her business and Kakashi is like ‘strange person’. It is 100% the food that draws them together. They also bond because both are just… odd. Both had Uzumaki influences and dog in their lives that affected them a lot.

-They have never thought of each other romantically and never will. Kakashi is also bisexual but Haru is just his feral neighbour/best friend.

-Shinobi get it. Civilians don’t. Or well most Shinobi who are at a certain level get it.

-Haru 100% met Kisame at a bar once and decided to hit that. She does not regret it and brags to Kakashi about it. Kakashi is amused.

-Actually I like the idea of Haru just sleeping with like most of the Akatsuki somehow. Not like Sasori or Pein but everyone else? No she doesn’t know how. She finds it funny as fuck.

-Shinobi don’t care whom you sleep with but have expectations to produce. Kakashi point blank asks Haru to have his kids in a ‘not weird way’ when they’re like 25 cause they’ve been friends since 22. Haru is fine with it but ‘let us wait for a few years dude. I am not in the right space’. Kakashi can now go: Haru is my future surrogate and ignore people bugging him.

-Haru is an Akimichi bastard but her stepdad is her dad. That’s what she cares about. She makes it clear to everyone that it’s true and people accept it. But she does learn she’s Chouza’s sister cause I like the idea of her being Chouji’s aunt and like having the future Ino-Shika-Cho running around.

-Haru is a sealing master cause I like the idea and I like the idea of her (after groaning cause fuck why is this happening) sitting down to teach Naruto her Sensei’s seals.

-Haru isn’t a ninja but has a lot of tricks of chakra and the such from being nomadic and her Sensei. He 100% taught her some ninja shit.

-Haru cannot fight. No legit she sucks at fighting unless it’s with her bow. Kakashi once tried to teach her to throw a punch. She broke a chair.

No they do NOT know how.

-Haru has ‘written’ (aka shamelessly stole and plagiarized) multiple books from her old world, edited for Naruto land. She has a photographic memory passed down from her first life…

-… is it to much if it turns out her grandad was a Uchiha who fucked off instead of join Konoha?

@anastasian-dreamer IS IT?!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 5

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairing: Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader (Gender neutral) Rating: T for language and mentions/references to an (emotionally) abusive relationship. Mild, brief violence. Warnings: TW for referenced emotional abuse, mild TW for possible physical abuse (sorry, angry Dani is not 100% gentle with people she doesn't love-love) Notes: Music for this chapter here. If you're following this story and really want to continue reading, but worry about the TWs for this chapter, just send me an anonymous message and I'll write up an alternative version of this post. It's not something I would do without it being requested, but it's also not a big deal so don't feel like you're bothering me if you want that. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Tocatta

Chapter 5: Poco a Poco (Italian: Little by little)

Finding a schedule for lessons to follow proved to be an insurmountable task. Consistency was something that Daniela struggled with greatly, even when it came to things that she genuinely cared about. Things like ensuring you lived long enough to entertain her. Instead of working with you to find a balance that worked for both of you, the youngest Dimitrescu daughter seemed intent on doing things in her own time. Little by little. Which would have been fine, if the two of you weren’t restricted by time.

Fate wasn’t entirely unkind, however. There were still a few things that Daniella recalled from her “youth”, bits and pieces of musical theory, the bare basics of reading sheet music. Not having to teach her proper posture or the structure of a piano would save you a little bit of time. On top of that, you had been informed that, somewhere in the castle, there were a few books of sheet music you could borrow. Assuming you were eventually able to find them, that is. So far they had eluded you, but you hadn’t even had much time to search, as you were still expected to perform your usual Maiden-related tasks.

In the end, it was Daniela herself that proved to be the biggest obstacle in your way.

“Look,” Daniela said one day, barely ten minutes into a lesson, “I think we should take a break… maybe have some fun?” One of her hands is resting on top of yours, the other tucking your hair behind your ear. There’s a smirk on her lips, unsurprisingly, and she’s mere inches away from kissing you. If not for the heavy threat hanging over your head, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms. Instead, all you can do is sigh, turning away from her as you do. “Don’t be like that, sweet thing. C’mon, no one can hear us right now. Might as well enjoy ourselves.”

“Babe. Darling. Buttercup, honey, cute little button on a bear, you are not the brightest bulb in the lighting department,” you replied, holding the bridge of your nose between two fingers. Instantly Daniela is upset, giving you a (thankfully) playful smack on the arm. Before she can protest more you continue speaking. “Your family would not hear us making out, true, but they would definitely hear us not playing the piano. I’m pretty sure your mother already thinks I’m doomed to fail as a teacher, and the last thing I need is to give her a reason to drop the curtains this early into our performance.”

“First of all, I am not an idiot,” Daniela said, a bit of a growl to her voice. “Secondly, what harm can a few minutes really do? Don’t you think I’ve been working hard enough to earn a little reward?” Now she’s holding a finger under your chin, lifting it up, making sure you’re looking right at her. There’s no dissuading her, it seems, as she leans in for a soft kiss. This was one of the more frustrating aspects of dealing with (courting?) her; communication felt like a one-man play, except the audience was as likely to throw knives as rotten tomatoes. Whenever Daniela acted like this, pushing away your concerns in favor of her pleasure, it felt helpless to try and resist her.

So you kissed back, wrapped your arms around her, and hoped that she’d be more open to compromise afterwards. At least kissing her was nice. Even though it had only been a week since you first kissed her, she was already getting better, evidently learning through experience. The passion behind her movements had grown as well, leaving you a tad breathless. Regardless of her odd perception of romance, and her insistence that she knew best, you found yourself charmed by her. It was scary. Terrifying, really, how you felt yourself falling under her spell. Wait. Hadn’t you been in this sort of situation before?... Staying with someone who wasn’t good for you? Why were you kissing her? Why were you starting to tremble, tears in your eyes, mind falling down a slippery slope of memories?

By the time you snap out of it, you’re sitting on the floor, Daniela awkwardly kneeling by your side. What the fuck? You think, sniffling a little. Head spinning, mind reeling, you struggle to form coherent thoughts. Next to you Daniela is unsure of how to help. But she’s trying, sort of, one hand holding your own, the other gently rubbing your back. She’s saying something, the words going right over your head. Understanding her takes times, focus, like tuning an instrument until the pitch is just right.

“I don’t understand, we were only kissing, what happened? Can you even hear me? Is this your way of tricking me into not making out with you? Because that’s a total dick move and-” she rambles, only stopping when you give her hand a soft squeeze. Then she’s meeting your gaze, looking uncomfortable, shoulders tense. “You’ve been weird for a while. Distant. Like you don’t want to touch me anymore. Don’t you still love me?”

There’s real, honest pain in her eyes when she speaks. If the timing had been different… you’d have thrown your arms around her and covered her face in kisses, promising to hold her onto she felt better, promising that yes you cared. You cared so fucking much. But she’s making you exhausted; every second has to be focused on her, not you. Every moment of concern is flipped around until she’s the victim, or at least the one that needs comforting. You didn’t think that she even realized what she was doing. Well, you hoped that she didn’t, wanted to believe that if she understood she’d change.

“Remember the first day we kissed?... how you pulled me close, and I kissed you harder, and we started…. Remember how I made a move and you pushed me away? I’ll never forget the look on your face. I felt like shit afterwards. I should have asked before I tried anything,” you explain, letting go of Daniela’s hand so you could pull your knees to your chest. Somehow you can’t bring yourself to maintain eye contact with her- not right now, not when you could still remember what it felt like to be on her side of this story. “I don’t want to push your boundaries, or make you feel pressured to do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you like that.”

“Oh bullshit,” Daniela snarled, shocking you, before getting to her feet. Confusion doesn’t begin to describe how you feel in the moment as you watch her pace back and forth. Both her hands are clenched into fists, and she’s refusing to look at you. There’s a buzzing sound in the room, faint but growing louder, like she’s a split second away from entering swarm mode. “We’re a couple, aren’t we? Shouldn’t you be able to tell what I want? Shouldn’t it be obvious what I desire, when I’m pinning you to the wall and shoving my tongue down your throat? What more do you require?”

“Holy shit, Dani, I know communication isn’t your forte, but have you really not even considered talking to me? That’s simple, easy, literally the first thing that should come to mind!” You snapped, too in disbelief to keep your voice down. For a moment Daniela stops her pacing, turning to stare at you with narrowed eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you’d be convinced she was ready to kill you. But she doesn’t move to grab her sickle, or otherwise advance on you, instead groaning and tugging on her own hair in frustration.

“Because that’s not romantic, genius!” She replied. Some dots start to connect in your mind, but you lack the full context, as if looking at sheet music with no clefs or time signature. It’s not until Daniela continues that you really understand; and, by extension, realize just how ridiculous this whole mess is. “None of the books I’ve read involve conversations like this. People just… they just love each other! And figure it out as they go along, reading each other’s body language and facial expressions, inferring what they need to know through touches and reactions. Why can’t we do that?”

“This isn’t a fucking book, dumbass! I don’t have powers like you, I can’t just read your mind and figure out what you want. That’s not how relationships work! Communication is key. And you can’t just talk, you have to listen, hard, and understand,” you continued, still on the floor, heart pounding so furiously you thought it might leap from your chest at any moment. As angry as you are, you wonder if you’re being too loud, too angry, wonder if there was a better way to get through to Daniela. Before you can think of a solution the air is ripped from your lungs. Your “partner”/student is grabbing you by the front of your shirt, yanking you to your feet. Instinct makes you struggle against her, as useless as it is.

“I. Told. You. I’m not an idiot!” Her free hand comes up to your face, cupping your cheek for a moment, then pulling away just as fast. When it moves back up she’s gripping onto her sickle. The sharp edge ends up resting against your neck, the slightest movement threatening to cut you open. This is the most Daniela has ever openly threatened you, and in that moment all your anger melts back into fear, tears spilling down your cheeks. A flicker of something shows in her eyes, making you think that even she doesn’t like where this is going. “Give me one reason not to end this right now.”

“... I don’t… I can’t think. I… Why would you?” The words leave you in a rush, even with the pauses, and each syllable makes the sickle press into your skin a little more. There’s sure to be a cut there, though you can’t even begin to estimate how bad it is. The blade is sharp, clearly, and it hardly even hurts as it slices you. Thankfully the sensation doesn’t last long. Once you’re done speaking, Daniela’s grip loosens considerably, hand slowly letting your shirt go. Her other hand takes a few seconds to move, but eventually pulls away without any fuss. For a few seconds she just watches you, eyes filled to the brim with a rich sorrow, mouth open but unmoving.

“No lesson tomorrow. I need a break,” Daniela whispers, barely audible. Then she’s dusting herself off, no longer looking at you, and heading towards the exit. Just like the first time you met, she pauses in the doorway. “How’s that for communication, hmm?” When she laughs, it’s empty, forced. Part of you wants to stop her and ask if she’s okay.

Instead, you watch her leave, unspoken words tangling with your tongue until you almost can’t swallow.

Then your feet move, automatically, leading you to the piano. You sit down without thinking. You touch the keys without thinking. When you play, you play without thinking. It’s just a song, the world tells you, and you have no choice but to play. It’s not just a song, you know this, but you can’t think. Can’t argue against the personification of your isolation, or the embodiment of your trauma. All you can do is let yourself get lost in the music, softly, recalling lyrics from a forgotten time.

I’ve been running all my life, trying to find a place to hide ‘Thought that I had settled down, but I guess things are changing now Don’t make me go, don’t make me go Just don’t make me go, this feels like home

As soon as the last note fades out you stand, wordlessly, and leave. Your feet carry you down corridor after corridor, past maidens working, some of whom gasp when they see you. But you don’t stop, not even when you cross paths with Lady Bela, who eyes you with surprising concern. She doesn’t try to stop you, though, and you doubt you would have cared if she had tried. It’s not until you are within your shared room that you finally stop moving. It is there that you sit, shaking, finally pressing a cloth to your neck. Blood stains the fabric, first in just a few dots, then spreading out. There’s not enough to make you fear for your life, but there is enough to make you cry harder. Washing the wound will sting… so you don’t do that. Soon you will have to return to your work, and the thought puts pressure on your skull, summoning an all-too-familiar migraine.

When you close your eyes, you don’t mean to fall asleep, but that is exactly what you do. And when you dream, you do not wish for nightmares. You never do- and fate never denies you their company.

[cultgambles]

Nearly a Blip in Time

I love historical sukuna so here i am. Also i am lowkey so confused at his story. Like i know he was a sorcerer at one point in history but like when did he get all his arms?? BC according to the wiki he was killed and then became a cursed spirit and then his fingers were waxy (lol weird choice of word) ?? anyway, in this, hes not a people hes a monster.

He’s also OOC. first time writing for JJK, but i wanted something soft hehe. Reader bites the dust

Wc: 3033

Masterlist | Requests? open

“[Y/N], you can’t be serious. No way a person of your . . . stature . . . could research in depth about something as big as Ryomen Sukuna. In fact, I’d wager that you wouldn’t even get within 5 feet of his temple,” the local teacher scoffs, disbelief plain as day on his face.

“You wager? What if I do get within 5 feet, then? Will you take me in as your student?” You cross your arms, staring him down. “Do you accept the challenge? I mean, you said it to begin with.”

The scholar throws up a hand, blowing you off. “Fine, whatever. You have half a year to write an in-depth dissection of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, and you will report your findings back to me at this very hour once your time is up. I expect perfection.”

“And if I win?” You ask, writing down every word he has said.

“You won’t die.”

“And?” You shoot him an unamused glare.

“And I will take you in as a student. God curse your father for teaching you to read and write.”

“He knew it would be beneficial for me. Now, sign here so you don’t try to cheat your way out of this,” you thrust the wood block and paper attached towards him. The scholar grumbles, almost breaking the ink brush in the process of writing his signature.

You carefully tuck the contract under your arm and scurry off, not before telling him you’d be back.

His laughter echoes around you.

At home, your father was amazed and horrified to learn of this deal, but he knew nothing could stop you. You gave him one last hug for the time being and gathered what little belongings you had in a knapsack.

“Don’t worry, father, I’ll be back before you know it.” His warmth lingers on your person, seeping into your bones. You’ll miss this.

Sukuna’s temple isn’t far from your village, in fact, he was revered as a protector of some sorts. Perhaps one quick to anger and that changed on the dime. It was a couple miles up the mountain where the snow thinned in winter and where the flowers bloomed in the spring. You’ve been to it only a handful of times before, once with your father, and several with the other village ladies. A yearly tradition, you suppose.

The temple is always well kept, the torii gates painted a pristine red, the surrounding area swept and neat, no dust to be seen near the wells or on the floor. Some, like the scholar you had made a wager with, merely believed he was a spirit, a demon of imagination. Others, like you and your mother, really believed in his existence. Before it becomes too late, you decide to scope out the area and set up camp a ways away from the temple so as to not disturb him. You briefly wonder if he was here or away at some other village. Would he be wreaking havoc? or be somewhat kind and spare the folks living there? You decide to set up your small camp under the camouflage and protection of the trees, maybe fifty feet from the river. You’d be much happier to stay at home, but the paths could become treacherous for a young thing like you at night. Maybe a little bit of the great outdoors is what you needed, anyway.

Almost a week passes before you ever have the hint of seeing the demon in the flesh. It’s on one of the days where you bring a small offering. Not much since you can’t exactly go home and cook a nice meal every time, but usually a flower crown or other type of decor.

When you do see him, however, time slows to a crawl. You swear your legs feel like jelly as he glances down at you. Sharp-featured and arrogant, beautiful, all man. He stands tall, towering above you. He has to stoop to reach the depths of the temple from the doorway.

“Well, well,” he croons, “what do we have here?” His four eyes are the color of what flows through each being and his canines sharp as knives. Truly, he’s beautiful, sculpted muscles rippling under inky black tattoos, blazing red eyes.

You bow deeply and straighten your shoulders, gaze still downcast to be respectful. “I just wanted to make this offering to you. I know it’s not much, but I hope you will find it useful.” You raise the small gift above your head, feeling his gaze roll over your body, sharp nails lightly scraping against your skin, grasping the wreath.

“Peculiar,” he says. His thumb and forefinger tilt your head up and you struggle to avert your eyes. “What’s your purpose here, little human?”

“I made a bet with the town scholar. I’ve to write about you and return with my findings so I can become a real student there.”

“A student, eh?”

“Please! I’m fascinated by you,” you plead, feeling his grip on your chin tighten.

“I’m intrigued, if only slightly,” he muses, releasing you harshly enough you’re forced to regain your balance.

You soon learn his ego is massive, that’s probably the only reason he spared you. He’d just love something written about him, wouldn’t he? Ever the gracious god, he lets you stay in one of the temple rooms. You had offered to take one the furthest from his own so he could have plenty of space, but he put you up right across from his instead.

Something about you being near to always capture his persona. Whatever.

Life at the temple is never truly boring. there’s always something going on; whether someone bringing gifts, like an unlucky human sacrifice, or some warriors barging in thinking they could actually harm the demon.

Sukuna likes you watching him tear apart these people limb from limb the best. The first couple times you couldn’t stand it, but it soon became a natural occurrence. Sure, you felt bad for those folks, but they never came truly prepared.

“What’re you writing now, pet?” he asks you one day. You glance up at him. He’s wringing the blood out of one of his sleeves, the blood drip drip dripping to the floor in red rain.

“I’ve noticed you like toying with your prey. If you’re in a good mood, you’ll let them think you have the upper hand,” you tell him.

“And if I’m in a bad mood?”

“Slice them in half!” He nods. His black nails gleam in the sunlight and you watch a pair of arms reach up behind his head as a cushion as the other balances to sit next to you.

“I really like how the trees change color in the autumn,” he says nonchalantly.

“Because they’re the color of blood?” you offer. You draw a small leaf on your paper’s corner.

“Maybe. Their lives are so short, unlike mine. Not that I’ve been a curse for too terribly long.”

You bite your tongue. Is it lonely? bounces around in your head.

“What will I do when my little scholar leaves too?” You flush and stammer that you still have a couple months. Sukuna pauses in thought, then, a sinister smirk gracing his lips.

The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s much more bored with life. Killing random people stated his boredom and gave him something to do, it wasn’t until later that he learned to revel in it. The more you got to know him, the more you didn’t want to leave.

He taught you, too. Weird things, usually, but still, useful things. He wasn’t all that good a teacher, but he was patient and expected you to figure shit out on your own. Sometimes he took you down to the market and showed you how to best barter.

And to steal.

Other times, he would sit and watch you cook silently. He always says your cooking wasn’t crap, so you just take it as a compliment.

Six months have passed since you first climbed the mountain. Sukuna finds you in your room packing what little belongings you have.

“That time already?” he muses, leaning against the door. You hum in acknowledgement. “What if they don’t even accept me?”

“Then you’ll return, of course.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

Of course, little did you know, but to Sukuna, that was a command.

He didn’t just watch your figure walk away, no, he followed silently behind, taking in the way you’d stop to study a particularly interesting tree or follow the clouds.

Your village is still the same. Same rickety well, same sunken houses, same sort of dreariness when you left.

You make your way towards the school house, it’s kind of near the back of the village, backed up to the lush forest. “I’ve done it!” you call, standing tall. “Not only have I been within 5 feet of his temple, I’ve been inside. I’ve had actual conversations with the demon Ryomen Sukuna.” You fish out your copious amount of notes and dissertation, shoving it in front of you.

“I’m surprised,” is all the teacher says, “give it here.” You hand him the documents, and he flips through the pages.

“So?”

“So what? For all I know, this could all be made up.”

“What? It’s not! How would I make up his favorite fruit or the way he likes his meat cooked? Papaya and rare, by the way,” you cross your arms.

“Then you should have brought him down with you.”

“You called?” his deep, rumbling voice cuts through the silence.

“S-Sukuna? What are you doing here?”

“I told you, pet, you’d return to me.”

“Sukuna-sama!” the scholar bows. “This is all a misunderstanding, their findings were great! Very convincing!”

“Give them to me.”

“Yes, sir!” he wails, pressing the papers to the other’s chest.

“You didn’t think he would actually keep that bet, did you?” Sukuna asks you.

“Well, I was hopeful!”

“Aw sweet,” he mocks you lightly. “You don’t need to be surrounded by such inferiors. Come now.” It seemed just a snap and somehow the scholar’s head was lobbed off.

You nod dumbly, barely processing what exactly just transpired. Did he kill him? For you? Surely there must be something in it for him.

But the way he holds out one of his four hands for you to grasp sets a fire in your heart. It’s small, no grassland bonfire, but a smolder that you know will become a steady heat.

His hand is rough and calloused while yours only has a few bumps from holding your ink brush so tightly and for so long. Sukuna leads you back to the temple, guiding you back into the room you stayed before.

“Why,” you ask him softly.

He shrugs. “You’re amusing to me. I like the silly words you use.”

“So you like my company?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he chuckles, running a hand over your head.

“Hey! You’re gonna mess up my hair!” you giggle.

“Don’t worry, next time it will be because your head will be atop my bed.” Shameless. Truly shameless. “Just keep writing about me.”

Somewhere in between you returning to the temple and now is when you find yourself tangled in his sheets. Two of his arms wrap securely around your waist and hip, another caressing your cheek. If you’re being completely honest, it seemed as if he adored you. He never coddles you per say, but anything you’d mention off hand, he would remember. An object you wanted, or even that you wanted to take a bath later that day. Sometimes he would even brush out your tangles for you.

You’re surprised by the normality of it all, how he’s gentle with you, unlike others who dare to cross his path.

Waking up together is a part of your daily routine. (Every morning, he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.) (You trace the patterns of his tattoos lazily.) You’d ask him about you and him sometimes, and he always responds that he’ll always keep his little one happy, that you belong to him. Sometimes, in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s actually being truthful or he’s just passing the time. Maybe the truth is a little bit of both, but you’re happy anyway.

He likes holding you, the two of you sitting by the river in the flowerbeds, watching nature for hours at a time.

Other times, he lets down his walls in the four corners of the temple. Every time he comes home smelling of blood and decay, you drag him to the bathroom and run a hot bath. Your nimble fingers glide through his hair, stopping to pull out leaves and scrub away dirt from his skin. More often than not, he would pull you in with him, your laugh ringing in his ears like bells.

But happiness must come to an end.

Apparently.

It’s a weekday when it happens.

Sorcerers.

They come in doves, feet stomping like drums.

“I guess they’re tired of me wreaking havoc, hmm?” he muses.

“There’s a lot more than usual, are you sure you’ll be alright?” you whisper softly, cupping his cheek.

He holds your hand there, leaning in and closing his eyes. “Who do you think I am? Of course I’ll be fine. You will be too.”

“Okay,” you watch him leave, a familiar aura of danger seeping in like a thick fog.

But it’s not okay.

Someone finds you and they drag you out of the temple by the hair. You’re thrown to the ground harshly.

“What, a little harlot? That demon won’t bother saving you, don’t even look at him. You’re nothing to him,” the sorcerer tells you, pressing a steel toed boot to your throat. You’re gasping for a breath, any.

“Obviously you think I’m worth something since you’re dealing with me,” you struggle to voice.

His nostrils flare, eyes wide. “See you in hell,” he snarls. You’re feeling everything and nothing at once. Surely the wound in your chest as you bleed, but you can’t seem to think of anything good or bad. You’re clutching your wound, sputtering. As if sensing you, miraculously, Sukuna turns in your direction as his fist rips through someone’s chest. Faintly, you hear a roar of anger, and then the screams around you are deafening.

The dozens of sorcerers that tried to defeat Ryomen Sukuna lay at bizzare angles, each in their own pool of blood.

It’s this horrible humorless laugh, his open mouth desperate and hungry like he wants to devour the world in punishment for taking the one true thing he held dear to him. The last piece holding his humanity together. He doesn’t know how you even got out of the temple, that’s definitely not where he left you. You’re staring blankly ahead, but he notices your hand gripping the pendant he gifted you.

Sukuna sighs, kneeling next to you, holding you close to his chest. He doesn’t know what you would have preferred: whether to be buried or cremated, and there’s no point now. Ultimately, Sukuna places you in a bed of flowers. He makes his way back to the temple, stepping around the bodies that litter the floor. Maybe he can threaten some laymen to come clean up the mess.

When he returns to the main room, the first thing he notices is the shelf with all the books you loved. Papers strewn everywhere, pages bent.

Your findings about him on the top shelf are gone.

That’s not something he realizes until much, much, much later when he’s ambushed after terrorizing another village. It’s been years without you, and yet he still feels anger of how you were taken from him. He promised he would protect you, at least, in the sanctum of his own mind, never voicing it to you. And yet, he’s failed.

Your coping mechanisms suck, you’d probably say if you saw him now. But I’ll write it down anyway, and we can cross it out later, if you want.

Like your death, he’s not even sure how the sorcerers managed to defeat him.

His twenty fingers cut up, separated through time and distance. Dormant, for now.

—PRESENT TIME—

“Oi, brat, ask that blindfold asshole what those are.”

“Ask what are what?” his host, Yuuji Itadori quips.

“Over there, on display. The books.”

Yuuji hates to admit it, but he’s curious too. How important are they to be kept here, and in a glass case, no less? Anyway, he hardly ever gets to see cursed objects in the flesh.

“Gojo-sensei! What are those!?” he shouts.

“They’re books, don’t you know what a book is?”

“Okay, yeah, but what’s their use? Like, why are they here?” Yuuji pulls at his hair.

“Hmm, they’re written by a [Y/N]. Long ago, not much information about the author, but the writing is phenomenal. And all about that little curse inside of you,” Gojo smirks, running a finger down Yuuji’s forehead and bopping him on the nose.

“About Sukuna?”

“Pretty mundane stuff, if you ask me. I’ve been told the sorcerers that defeated Sukuna used those texts. Not sure how ‘he hates when food offerings have tomatoes’ was useful, but apparently it was,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Ah, would you look at the time, I’ve gotta go! Pressing matters with a special-grade. And the candy shop I want to go to closes in 30!”

“Later, sensei,” Yuuji waves. “You don’t like tomatoes?”--silence-- “What, no response? You’re suddenly shy now?”

Sukuna hears him, and ignores him as per usual.

So, my little scholar’s books were stolen, huh? Here, all this time?

[barnesbabee]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ - ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

WONDERLAND MASTERLIST ⇜ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ-  ɴᴇxᴛ ⟿

CHARACTER LIST: White Rabbit - Choi Jongho Absolem (Blue Catterpilar) - Kang Yeosang Cheshire Cat - Kim Hongjoong Mad Hatter - Choi San Haigha (March Hare) - Jung Wooyoung Tweedle Dee - Song Mingi Tweedle Dum - Jeong Yunho Bloody Red King - Park Seonghwa

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @myunvillage @mirror-juliet @jess-1404 @earth-to-leiki [Send me a DM, an ask or comment to be added to the tag list]

"Teach you what?"

"How to be a better man, how to have mercy, and compassion."

Unbeknownst to you, a little purple and pink cat watched every step you took. Of course, it wasn't because he cared. Cheshire (unlike many other Wonderland villagers) genuinely wasn't affected by your presence, or lack there of, but the Hatter had asked him, in exchange of a hefty reward, of course, to keep an eye on his beloved Y/N.

While watching over you Cheshire just did a whole bunch of growling and nose scrunching. He hated the sight of the King, and even worse, was the sight of such a man in love.

"Such a shame to be the bearer of bad news dear friend," Cheshire said, not at bothered by the fact that he had bad news to tell "but it seems as if Y/N will be our new Queen."

The cat twirled a strand of his coloured hair around his index finger, as he fell down onto one of the many chairs along with the Hatter's never-ending table.

The Hatter's eyes widened and so did his toothy smile.

"She's carrying on with the plan! She will decapitate him herself and become our Queen! Oh but I'm so happy I could dance the Futterwacken again!"

He clapped feverously and suggested a toast, clearly missing the meaning of Cheshire's words.

"I'm afraid you missed what I meant, Hatter. She will be our Queen, because she will be marrying the King."

The atmosphere suddenly became silent, eerie even. The Hatter's green, sparkly eyes transformed into an ugly, rage-filled, yellow. The man gripped the teacup on his hand so hard it broke, but the rage, disappointment, and growing heartbreak fogged his brain to the point where he didn't even notice the pain, nor the blood trickling down his palm.

The Hatter was rarely angry, but when he was, it was enough to scare poor Cheshire, who didn't hesitate in disappearing into thin air. Or he tried to. Before every bit of his body could be gone, the Hatter grabbed Cheshire's hair, making the cat groan in pain, and threw him on the ground.

"What has he done to her!? Was it a curse!?"

Cheshire caressed his head and stood up to look at the Hatter.

"It wasn't a curse Hatter, she fell in love. After you deceived her and the King showed her nothing but truth and love, the choice was pretty evident."

The reasonable explanation seemed to calm down the Hatter, whose eyes morphed back into their greenish colour. However the dread and panic in his face were still evident. Cheshire, still quite upset at Hatter's tantrum, could see on his friend's face an expression of someone about to spew a terrible, terrible idea.

"We must get her away from the Palace. It's gotten into her head. Let's get her back to us!"

The man-like cat floated back to his usual place in the air, twirling in the process. He chuckled audibly, showing his sharp canines in the process.

"Hmm yes, let's steal her away from the man she's come to love, so she could be with us, the people who lied to her for our own benefit. Sounds like a party if you ask me..."

"A party!?" Haigha exclaimed, his left eye twitching as he smiled widely at the mention of his favourite hobbie.

"That's where the King's behaviour comes in our favour," the Hatter said, patting Haigha's head so he'd sit back down "once he sees her take her beloved Queen away, he will show his true colours, Remember how scared and freaked out she was last time we saw her? She said he seemed really sweet while talking to her until he eventually snapped. Once he snaps, he will freak out and bring out the tyrant's behaviour and scare her away."

It was hard for Cheshire to admit, but his mad friend's plan wasn't so mad after all. It was possible to accomplish what the Hatter suggested, and there was nothing to lose, you already hated them anyway.

The Hatter slapped his thighs and stood up, fixing his big top hat in the process.

"Shall we go?"

Haigha was already standing up from his seat when Cheshire stopped them.

"Perhaps we should discuss the plan further... Something tells me we might need some help from Absolem and Bayard..."

Sneaking you out past the Card Knights would take a lot of help, and Cheshire had already worked out in his head the escape plan. It would take a little pressure on Absolem, as he managed to care even less about the people around him than Cheshire did, but the cat was sure he could get a shrinking cake out of the blue catterpillar. After shrinking you and hatter down to the size of a strawberry, Bayard (the loyal dog friend of Hatter's, that Cheshire tried his best to keep a distance of) would bring you to the White Rabbit's house, as it would be too obvious to come back to the Hatter's cabin.

The cat had no intention to help you, but he did like to see some drama and commotion in Wonderland once in a while, and this was his chance.

Whilst all of the furious planning went on on the greenlands of Wonderland, in the Palace you and the King sat opposite of each other on his bed, gossiping like two high schoolers.

"And then my best friend at the time, Anna, slept with my boyfriend and said it was 'because of a dare'. I forgave her because we had been friends for so long but then she told my crush that I smelled so I stopped being her friend."

The King nodded along and listened attentively (trying his best to cross his legs just like you, but failing miserably) to your story.

"Hm yes, yes, I understand. My best friend ate one of my tarts so I cut off his head."

You couldn't help but scoff at the way he compared the situations, although you reprehended him right after for the heartless act.

He had asked to know of your previous life, how it was back in your world, and so you sat there reminiscing your past for hours on end. Most people in Wonderland came from other places, but Seonghwa had never been elsewhere, as he was born in the Kingdom.

"So this establishment you call 'school', was it like a club you went to where you reunited with your peers?"

"No, no. School was a mandatory thing for all kids, we went there and a bunch of teachers taught us about different things."

"Hm, but all you've told me so far were anecdotes about these friends of yours, what were these classes like?"

You blushed slightly, realizing that in fact, you didn't remember shit from school, aside from past dramas.

"Well, they told us many things about earth, about what makes the world move, about how society works, and what makes things work. We learned about gravity, about numbers, about stars-"

"Stars!?"

The King's eyes lit up as if he was a child whom you had promised ice cream to.

"Yes, stars. Why?"

Seonghwa stood up from the bed in such a violent manner, he nearly fell. The man ran over to his closet, from where he retrieved an old book. The hard cover was beginning to tear, and the once white pages had become a weird mix of brown and yellow, but you took it in your hands nevertheless.

"This book once fell into the Wonderland when I was a child. I was alone most of the time, so it kept me company. I can tell from the images it talks about the stars, and I think I learned a lot from it since I stared at them a lot, but I cannot comprehend the alien language."

The King leaned against the headboard, and you laid beside him, placing your head on his chest, so you could hear his now nervous heart beating fast from the contact. Out of instinct, the King placed his arm around you and pulled you closer, as you opened the book.

You chuckled slightly, after seeing the author of the book and opening its pages.

"Seonghwa this isn't an alien language, it's Italian. Well, I guess it's an alien language to you, but it was funny that you said it that way... The person who wrote it was very influential back where I'm from, he taught the people of Earth many things about our space."

The male listened carefully as you tried your best to explain the things in the book as best as you could.

"This here is what we call the Solar System. It has nine planets, but only one of them has people, this one, where I live." You told him, pointing towards Earth.

Seonghwa noticed how your posture changed, after you remembered once more that you would never return home again, and panicked for a second. He disliked many things, but your tears had definitely gone up to his number 1 on the list.

"How about I ask for a picnic to be arranged in the garden, and at night we can watch the stars."

You turned to face him and smiled as you nodded. Seonghwa's thumb caressed your arm, and you couldn't help but to place a soft kiss on his lips, as a 'thank you'. No matter how many times you did that, the King never seemed to get used to it. He would always feel butterflies in his stomach and fireworks exploding on his chest. Sometimes you felt perverted, thinking of how he'd react if one day you decided to take it... further. You imagined how pretty he'd look... But you decided to take your time. Baby steps...

The King couldn't wait for dinner time, and you could tell from the number of times he had gone up to the window and pushed away the blinds to see if the sun was finally setting.

As he was staring out the window, you came behind him and wrapped your arms around his figure.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Seonghwa looked around, to make sure no one was nearby eavesdropping. He wouldn't want your secret to being known.

You tiptoed so your lips could be leveled with his ear.

"You're adorable."

Once you got back down and looked into his gleeful eyes, you smiled.

"Let's keep this secret between us!" He joked along.

"Yes, I wouldn't want the other ladies to know and steal you away."

Seonghwa held your face and lovingly placed a kiss on your forehead.

"The other ladies don't stand a chance next to you princess."

Your cheeks heated up and you slapped his chest out of embarrassment. The King's face grew worried and confused.

"Why did you hit me? Have I done something wrong? It was meant to be a compliment I'm sorry I compared you to-"

You grabbed his face and squished his cheeks, making him form an adorable pout with his red lips.

"Seonghwa, it was a good thing. I slapped your chest because I was embarrassed, I was really touched by your compliment."

Once you let go of his face, the King tapped his chin with his index finger, in a pensive manner.

"I have much to learn about our future interactions, I do not understand many things."

You just chuckled and took his hand in yours.

"We have many years ahead of us, you will learn someday."

The small acknowledgment of your future made Seonghwa very happy. Never in his pitiful life had he even thought of being this happy over small actions... Last week the only thing that brought him joy was the sound of a traitor's head hitting the concrete floors of the palace's main area, but since you arrived, a smile was all it took for his cold heart to start beating again.

It didn't take long before one of the frogmen knocked on the door to inform the picnic was ready. Seonghwa didn't let go of your hand as you walked outside, to sit among the red roses.

You had finally come to terms with Wonderland's weird food. You had no choice really...

"Have you never been attracted to anyone, Seonghwa?" You asked as you munched down on a sandwich of... whatever it was.

Seonghwa's expression faded a little.

"Once. I had just become King and I thought that the next step would, logically, be the find a Queen. Every woman displeased me. All but one. She was beautiful, hair as dark as the night sky, tanned skin from the sun, and a beautiful mole under the eye. But she was cold, evil... I thought that it was a perfect match. After all, I wasn't the most caring person. But she would treat me like a servant. Our relationship was purely to serve a purpose to the Kingdom, nothing else. We slept in separate rooms and spent the day apart. We only dined together, but since I saw the same behavior from my parents I thought that that was love. Our wedding had been scheduled long before she moved into the castle, we were simply waiting for the preparations to be finished. Everything was custom made, from the clothes to the flowers on every table. The day before the wedding I walked to her bedroom and found her laying with a servant of mine. You know, back when they weren't... Frogs. I had them both decapitated, of course. And I swore off love forever. That is until you came along."

You flashed him a sad smile and set down your food. He looked awfully confused as you climbed onto his lap, but he didn't protest.

You brushed his dark hair away from his eyes. Both of them. He suddenly felt very exposed and insecure, but you kissed his cheek, reassuringly.

"Ever since I came down here you've shown me nothing but love, and honesty. You didn't try to sugarcoat who you are, or what you've done, and I appreciate your honesty. My place in Wonderland is with you."

The male smiled, and kissed you, a little more passionately than all of the previous times. The male's hands trailed down your ass, and pulled you on top of his growing erection.

"For someone who has never been with anyone you're quite good at this."

"Well I... I lied. I had a fiancé after all, and we laid together but we didn't get far. There was no kissing involved, she just wanted to get it over with since I was the one who suggested we should... do it. But she made fun of me for not being good at it and I became... insecure. I was insecure and for the longest time I've wanted to try it with you, because you give me those special butterflies but I was afraid I'd disappoint you."

"What a cold, heartless bitch!" You thought to yourself. No wonder he was so bad at human interactions, every relationship he had was a trainwreck!

You grabbed his face and placed a long kiss on his lips.

"Well then, let me lead at first. If you start feeling more confident, you can take the lead, if not, I'll stay in control, okay?"

The King simply nodded and kissed you once more. This time deeper than he had ever kissed anyone. Tongues fighting so intensely the King nearly missed the way your hand expediently undid his trousers. Your hand slipped inside his boxers and took out his length. You looked down at the dick in your hand and widened your eye.

"Well aren't I a lucky girl."

You spat in your hand and kissed him again, as your hand worked up and down his shaft. The King was surprisingly very vocal, and he didn't try to hide or suppress any of his pretty moans (and for that you were thankful.

You stopped your hand, right as he was getting riled up.

"Ready for something better?"

The King watched you strip from your panties, and he cursed the frilly dress that covered your womanhood, but as soon as you sunk down on his cock, all of his worries and anguishes washed away. It was automatic, the way he gripped your hips and made you bounce on him as he snapped your hips against yours was something he did naturally as if he truly knew what he was doing. You brought out something different in him, and the King was simply doing was his body was telling him to do.

You gripped his shoulders, overwhelmed with the feeling of having him inside you.

"S-shit Seonghwa, you're good, r-really fucking good."

"Oh yeah?"

He flipped you two around, so he could pound into you with all the strength he had. Your words of encouragement were all he needed.

Your consistent (and loud) moans got him on the edge quickly, and he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Y/N forgive me, but I don't think I can last much longer."

Your hand reached down and began circling your clit, so when he came inside you, filling you up with his cum, you came right after, with a loud cry for his name.

Seonghwa laid on top of you, his face nuzzled on the crook of your neck, trying to regain his breath. You ran your hand through his hair as you did the same, looking up at the sky.

"The stars sure look beautiful today."

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

____________

Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

     A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

    Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

    It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

    An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

    Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

    Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

    Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

    The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

    Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

    You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

    Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

    Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

    His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

    Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

    “Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

    Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

    He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

    Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

    Like right now.

    “I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

    “Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

    “I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

    Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

    Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

    His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

    “I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

    “What do you want?”

    Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

    “I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

    “Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

    “He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

    “And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

    “Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

    You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

    “You owe me, toy man.”

    “Put it on my tab.”

    Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

    “Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

    Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

    Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

    “Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

    “Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

    On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

    It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

    And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[mimisempai]

Wait for me on the other side 1/8

Summary:

Mobius, a watchmaker, and Loki, a teacher, realize that they are separated by two years of time when they exchange letters from different years in the mailbox of the house on the cliff where Mobius lives. As the two lonely hearts feel they have found their soulmate, will they ever meet?

or the Lakehouse AU that nobody asked for.

Notes:

This is my very first multi-chapter AU. I hope you'll enjoy it. Chapters will be released on a weekly basis.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/81773392

3772 words - rating G

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

When two people "connect" the bond between them can be so pure and simple as to stir hearts in heaven.

When they connect in all the right places at all the wrong times, heaven weeps for broken hearts. To heal these broken hearts, heaven breaks time.

—Blithe Spiritus

Loki took one last look through the rearview mirror at the cottage on the edge of the cliff, which was getting smaller and smaller as he drove away.

Shifting his gaze forward, his face slid to the crate on the passenger seat, where Croki, his pet alligator, was sitting.

"I hope you will like your new home..." Loki sighed.

Then suddenly, he braked abruptly, holding back the cage with one hand as it slid forward. Then he backed the car up.

"Shit. I'm sorry Croc'"

He walked over to the mailbox. He put his hand through the window, opened the mailbox and put an envelope inside. Then his long fingers pulled the red flag in a vertical position, to indicate that there was mail. All this under the eyes of Croki who followed with attention all his gestures.

He tapped the top of the cage, "Come on, this time we're off for good."

He rolled, speeding up, refusing to look at the sign for the tiny village his home was in, New Asgard.  Loki rolled east, the cliff behind him, then passed a sign: New York, 35 miles.

The traffic became heavier as he approached the city.

After maneuvering through the various streets and making his way through the New York traffic, he stopped in front of an apartment building on a busy street. It was a very recent building, cold and sterile. The contrast with the tranquility of New-Asgard was striking.

He parked, got out of the car and took a moment to absorb the change in his surroundings. Then with a sigh, he began to unload his things.

**********

Loki stopped at the steps in front of the entrance to the imposing establishment - September High-School. He inhaled deeply to give himself courage before moving forward, climbing the few steps and pushing open the heavy door. He entered and walked to what appeared to be the front desk where a busy looking secretary was standing.

Loki asked softly, "Excuse me?"

"Just a minute, okay?"

Loki waited a minute, politely, then tried to get the secretary's attention again.

"Ahem... Excuse me, I need to..."

She handed him a stack of paper, while saying, without looking at him, "Just fill this out and wait for me there, okay?"

Loki handed it back to her.

"No, I'm Loki Laufeyson. I'm a new teacher. I was told to report here."

The secretary looked sheepish, "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor. You need to find Principal Romanov. She should be around here. A woman with red hair, dressed in black, you can't miss her."

He did indeed find the Principal in the hallway that the secretary had pointed out.

Natasha Romanov may have looked young to be a high school principal, but everything about her demeanor, her head carriage, her attitude exuded confidence and authority. She walked quickly down the hallway and Loki, though tall, had a hard time keeping up with her.

The principal handed him a large stack of files as soon as they arrived in her office.

"You will be in charge of the sophomores, this morning you will have three classes to teach and three this afternoon."

Loki repeated to be sure, "Three?"

"That's a quiet day, for a first day."

Loki looked a little dazed, he didn't think he was going to jump into the deep end and thought he would have some time to adjust.

The principal turned around, as if she sensed his hesitation, "The teacher you replaced let us down without notice, and it took us a while to find the right replacement, the students lost a lot of time for their final exams. We have to do our best to make sure they pass."

They walked past a student who was sitting alone on a bench, looking sulky. Romanov motioned to a supervisor.

"What's he doing here?"

The supervisor replied, "He was grounded because he took apart a computer to prove Professor Banner wrong and has to do an hour of gym under Professor Odinson's supervision. However, I can't leave the place unattended, and I was waiting for my backup to take him there.

"Peter get up," said principal Romanov in a sharp tone.

The young man stood up, a sulky look on his face.

"Professor Laufeyson, take him to Professor Odinson in the gym and then you can begin your lessons in this class."

The principal pointed to the door of the classroom in question, then turned and walked back to her office, not waiting for an answer.

"Well come with me, Mister...?"

The young boy followed his lead and replied with a pouty tone, "Parker, Peter Parker. »

"Then let's go Mr. Parker, the computer dismantler." replied Loki with a wink.  He knew he couldn't condone what the young man had done, but he couldn't help but find it amusing.

Seeing that the professor didn't look reproachful as he said these words, Peter lost his pout and got a small smile.

"Although I'm curious as to what could have caused you to disassemble a computer."

Peter seemed to come back to life, explained to an amused Loki, that Professor Banner, who taught biology, had said that nothing could compare to the complex construction that was a living being and Peter had wanted to show him the opposite by dismantling the Professor's laptop.

"But I was about to put it back together though, I don't understand why he got so upset."

Loki couldn't help but laugh.

Peter's face frowned because they had arrived at the gym.

They walked through the door and there a giant blonde man came striding in, "Peter Parker, it's been so long! Tell me what you've been up to again." he ruffled Peter's hair who tried to shy away from it, then he held out his hand to Loki who had to hold back a wince at the strength of the professor's grip.

"Professor Odinson, but call me Thor. Nice to meet you. New professor?"

"Yes, I am the new literature professor, Loki Laufeyson, but call me Loki. I'll leave this promising young man to you," He winked at Peter before continuing, "as for me I'll be teaching my first class."

"Welcome here, and good luck!" threw Thor at him before turning back to Peter, "Go change, we'll start with 10 laps running around the basketball court."

Hearing Peter's grumbles, Loki smiled as he walked away.

A few minutes later, he stopped outside his classroom door and took a deep breath.

"It takes a little time to adjust, but most of the students here are exceptional and the teaching staff is really, really nice."

Loki turned to see who had just spoken.

He found himself facing a black man, taller than him, and very impressive. But despite his imposing nature, his smile and eyes were very warm as he held out his hand. "Heimdall, art professor, welcome."

Loki grasped it and replied, "Loki, literature professor."

Heimdall gave a small nod in the direction of the door, "Good luck." then walked away.

Loki, surprisingly relaxed following this little interlude, walked through the classroom door with a confident air, placed his belongings on the desk and with an engaging smile on his lips addressed his first students, "Hello, I am your new literature teacher and I hope we will work well together."

He paused, letting his gaze roam over the entire class before continuing,"O Captain! My Captain! Who knows where that came from? No one? No idea? It's-"

A young boy raised his hand at the back of the classroom.

"Yes Mister...?"

"Keener, Harley Keener."

"All right Mister Keener, I'm listening."

"It's a Walt Whitman poem about Abraham Lincoln. And it's plagiarism of Professor Keating's introduction played by Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society."

Loki didn't lose his confidence at all and replied, "Thank you Mr. Keener. I'm not going to apologize for the plagiarism. I didn't expect anyone to contradict me since this film was released long before you were all born. Thank you, Mr. Keener, for setting me straight. I won't ask you to call me Captain, Sir, or Professor, but simply Loki. Yes, Mr. Keener, Loki, as in the Norse god of mischief... "

The whole class, including Harley, laughed and Loki thought that it wasn't such a bad start.

But he still felt exhausted at the end of the day, and he slumped into the chair at his assigned desk in the teacher's lounge. He leaned in and put his head back, closing his eyes.

"So they've worn you out already?" it was the deep voice, which he recognized as Heimdall's. He opened his eyes to see that the art professor had sat just at the desk next to him.

"Yet the Famous Five keep talking about Loki, the new professor who is super cool. It's been a long time since I've heard a literature professor on such good terms." It was Thor who came to join them and pulled a chair to sit in the space between Heimdall and Loki.

"The Famous Five?"

Thor chuckled before answering, "They're called that because they're always stuffed together, probably five of the smartest minds in this elite school, and as a result always going out on the town to..."

"…the benefit of science." finished Heimdall.

"That's their argument every time they get busted," Thor clarified.

"Who are they?" asked Loki, curious.

"There's Peter who you met this morning, he's in the same class as his two childhood friends Ned and MJ. There's Harley who talked about how you put him in his place, when he thought he had fooled you. Captain my Captain huh?"

Thor chuckled before continuing, "and finally Kamala Khan, the newest one, a little brunette, a ball of energy who always wears a big red scarf, summer and winter and who the other four have taken under their wing."

"Interesting..." replied Loki, thoughtfully.

"Wait until you're the target of their prank and we'll see if you find these kids interesting." said an unknown voice behind him.

"Bruce my friend! Were you able to fix your laptop?" exclaimed Thor with a laugh.

Loki turned around, only to find himself standing in front of a man who was a little older than him. He stood up and held out his hand, "Professor Banner, I presume."

"Am I that famous?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow as he shook the outstretched hand in a firm grip.

"It's mostly that I had the pleasure of taking Peter Parker for his grounding to Thor." replied Loki

"That brat..." harrumphed Bruce. "He's smart... but his habit of proving he's always right..."

The other men laughed in unison.

"So boys? Are we having fun?" a young woman with short blond hair stepped forward and held out her hand, "Carol Danvers, homeroom teacher at this crazy school."

"Nice to meet you," Loki replied, shaking the outstretched hand.

Unaccustomed to being around so many people and especially such friendly people, Loki felt a little overwhelmed and suddenly the fatigue of this first day seemed to fall on his shoulders to the point that he had to stifle a yawn.

Thor patted him on the back and said, "I have an excellent remedy for that."

"What is it?"

Heimdall and Thor high-fived each other and said in unison, "The Bifrost."

At Loki's look of complete incomprehension, Carol explained, "It's a bar two blocks away, good burgers, good beer and for good company, that's us." she finished with a wink.

Loki realized they were inviting him to come with them but he hesitated and finally replied, "Thanks. I better not drink tonight. I'm dead."

Bruce retorted, "We're all dead."

"Yes, but I still have a lot to unpack."

They nodded, and did not seem disappointed by his refusal, even rather understanding. Loki really wasn't used to this kind of company.

Heimdall put his hand on his arm and then said softly, "Next time, then."

Loki, not understanding why his throat was tight, simply nodded.

A little later, they separated in front of the school gates. Loki on one side and the group on the other.

" Bye Loki!"

"See you tomorrow Captain!"

Loki lived only three blocks from the school and soon arrived home. When he entered he realized how sterile and cold his large apartment seemed.

He had not yet had time to unpack all his things and the boxes were scattered everywhere. The first thing he had unpacked was Croki's terrarium, which took up a whole room.

As he closed the door, he heard Croki's typical little paws coming and rubbing against him as usual. He patted his head and headed for the kitchen. Croki was a Cuvier's Dwarf caiman. Loki had once wanted to get a dog, but in the animal shelter he had immediately felt a connection with the animal, perhaps because he was different, like himself.

Loki opened the refrigerator which was desperately empty except for Croki's fish ration. He put it on a plate and put it on the floor while commenting, "Need alligator food. And human too."

He was going to have to do some shopping tomorrow.

After snacking on a bag of chips, exhausted, he took a quick shower before going to his room.

"Good night Croki."

His room was as functional and depressing as the rest of the place. He went to stand in front of the window. Outside it was all stone buildings. It was very difficult to even see the sky. He sighed, "What a view..."

He pulled the blinds and went to bed. Once his head was on the pillow, he fell asleep very quickly, which prevented him from thinking too much about everything he missed.

**********

A red pickup truck passed the New Asgard sign before parking at the side of the path that leads to the house. Its back end was filled with furniture and moving boxes. A mustachioed man with gray hair got out. He walked toward the cottage on the edge of the cliff and stopped, hands on hips, contemplating the view.

He opened the door, looked for the electric power meter. He turned it on and went to turn on the light in the entrance and then in what seemed to be the living room.

Mobius examined the place, satisfied. There wasn't much. A stereo, some books, an armchair. But the bare and cosy furniture matched perfectly with the austere beauty of the small cottage. He looked out the window at the cliff. He was going to like it here.

It took him a good four hours to unload his pickup truck by himself and install just about everything he had brought. Once finished, he grabbed a cold beer that he had put in the cooler and while drinking it quietly walked around the house before getting in the car to go shopping at the local grocery store that he had spotted on his way in.

Once he had gone around the store, with his groceries in his arms, he went to put them on the counter.

The young owner and his wife were behind.

"Hi, are you new around here?" the owner asked him.

Mobius smiled and replied, "More or less. My name is Mobius."

The owner replied, "My name is Clint and this is my wife, Laura."

Laura smiled and added, "You're going to like it. Especially now that the weather is getting warmer." Then pointing to the groceries, she added, "We'll get you some boxes for all that."

"Oh thanks." replied Mobius.

Laura fetched an empty box from a high shelf. Now that she was no longer hidden by the counter, it was obvious that she was pregnant. Clint rushed to her. "No, honey, let me."

Mobius looked at them, feeling moved and at the same time fully aware of his own loneliness. He paid, took his box and left, but not without promising the young couple to return.

He parked in front of the small road with his groceries in the back of the truck and noticed the mailbox with its flag up. He stopped and opened it. There was an envelope.

For the new tenant.

He took in the groceries, put them away, made himself a sandwich tray and taking the letter, he went to sit on the armchair in front of the bay window. He put his tray on a small table next to it, opened the letter and started to read.

Dear new tenant.

Hello and welcome to your new home and congratulations, blah blah blah. You have made an excellent choice, New Asgard is a wonderful place and this house is a gem, as you may have already noticed.

I'm sure you'll love living here as much as I do.

By the way, I'm the former tenant, Loki.

Mobius looked perplexed but also pleasantly surprised.

The post office forwards my mail normally, but if something should happen here, because the post service is what it is and we are never safe, my new address is below. Thank you.

Mobius turned over the letter.

P.S.: Sorry for the pawprints leading to the front door. They were already there when I moved in, as well as the box in the attic. I think it belongs to the owner.

Mobius stared at the letter in amusement and could not help but check the end of the letter.

He went to the front door. The floor was clean. Inside and out.

"What did he talk about?" he scratched the back of his head before heading for the ladder that led to the attic. He opened the hatch, poked his head through and looked around. It was empty. No box.

Mobius went back down, shrugged, crumpled the letter and threw it away.

He finished his meal and went to bed.

The next day, in his clock store, while repairing an antique watch with an extremely complicated mechanism, he couldn't help thinking about the letter and its more or less strange ending when he was interrupted by the doorbell indicating that someone had entered the store.

He put down his tools, wiped his hands, and headed for the store.

"Hey Mobius! I made lunch, shall we share?"

It was the bubbly and somewhat invasive, Sylvie. The owner of the antique gun store right across from him.

He replied, annoyed, because she had interrupted his work that he loved, "I can't, I have urgent work to finish."

"Oh come on Mobius, there's nothing urgent about an old watch."

"It is to its owner."

She made a disappointed pout, "Well, okay..." she sighed and headed for the door, then turned abruptly. "Is it true you bought a house? Where is it? How is it?"

Mobius rolled his eyes, used to Sylvie's chatter.

"It's an isolated cottage, in a small village called New Asgard."

"You're sick to isolate yourself like that!"

"It's what I want and I already feel at home there. And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to get back to my work, which is not urgent." He walked briskly toward his studio, annoyed by the criticism of his choice, and didn't even hear the door close.

In the late afternoon, after his day's work, he decided to repaint the faded fences that lined the small path. The manual work, like his work on watches, helped him to clear his head.

A few hours later, as the day was getting darker, Mobius was kneeling on the steps and applying a new layer of paint to the weathered planks. He finished, satisfied with the result, and began to put his equipment away.

Behind him, a small dwarf alligator trotted along the path. Mobius didn't notice it at first. The alligator sped up and before Mobius could react, he stepped into the paint and left footprints behind him. "Hey!"

Mobius tried to catch the alligator but it ran back inside the house whose door Mobius had left ajar. Mobius was about to follow him, wondering what an alligator was doing here and if he was dangerous, when he suddenly stopped.

On the ground in front of the house, there was a trail of paw prints.

Mobius rushed to the garbage can and searched with determination through his trash when he finally found what he was looking for: Loki's letter.

He stared at it.

Sorry about the footprints leading to the front door. They were already there when I moved in, as was the box in the attic. I think it belongs to the owner.

He remained for a long moment staring at the crumpled note.

*********

Loki went out to have lunch at a place he had spotted not far from the school.

Finding the weather warm, he opened his coat and continued walking.

When he arrived at the place, he sat down on a bench and started to unwrap his sandwich, a book in his hand. He enjoyed this moment of calm, even if the place was crowded on this beautiful day.

Once finished eating, Loki closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sunlight warm him up. Just aware of the surrounding sounds, the water of the fountain, the splashes and laughter of the children playing there, an old man grumbling about global warming, the pigeons landing not far away, hoping to get some crumbs from those who like Loki had decided to have lunch here.

Suddenly, a horrible noise, a high-pitched squeal and a horn made Loki sit up. He suddenly opened his eyes and looked around.

A few meters away, in front of Loki, a double-decker city bus was trying to stop. It was going pretty fast, although you could tell the driver was trying to brake.

Loki registered it all, the noise, the bus, before noticing the gray-haired man standing directly in the path of the bus. There was nothing to be done, it was inevitable and almost immediate, the man was hit by the bus, and Loki, horrified, saw his distant figure fly ten or fifteen feet into the air before crashing to the sidewalk. The faint sound of the impact reached Loki half a second later, due to the distance.

Loki automatically took out his cell phone and dialed 911. As he walked towards the impact point, he gave all the information to the rescue workers, trying to remain calm.

Once he hung up the phone, he started to run towards the lifeless body.

_______

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

[cyhyr]

Whumpas In July: Secret

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: E

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka

WC: ~5910

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Sleep deprivation, dissociation, it-happens-in-a-dream domestic violence, blow jobs, hallucinations, stalking, night terrors, nightmares, therapy, mental health issues, lying, secrets, open ending, TBC

A/N: It's a day late, but it happened! I may have missed a tag or two, please let me know if you catch something I'm posting this and I'm very tired :(

A sequel to “Support”

For @whumpmasinjuly prompt list

Read on The Archive

~

Sitting against his new headboard, in his new bed, alone in his new house, Iruka tips his head back to the ceiling and sighs heavily through his nose. It’s late, and he has classes to teach in the morning, but gods he can’t sleep. He wants desperately to blame this bout of minor insomnia on Kakashi’s absence; his partner left a week and a half ago on a mission above Iruka's clearance, which can only mean S-rank. And yes, of course he’s worried, but Kakashi’s also still within the clocking estimate for the mission parameters, so he’s not… he’s not that worried. Kakashi’s the best for a reason. He was assigned to the mission for a reason.

That’s not why Iruka can’t sleep.

His hands rest on his thighs, lower back aching. He’s been sitting here, in this position, for hours. First he was reading, then he was meditating; now he’s… shit, he’s not sure, but he’s definitely keeping himself awake deliberately at this point.

Because every time he falls asleep, he sees Mizuki hovering over him again. And he can’t. He can’t sleep, knowing that that’s waiting for him in his dreams.

~

It started ten days ago—the same day Kakashi left for his mission, oddly enough—when he brought the mail in. He wasn’t expecting much; junk, new utility set-up, perhaps a polite correspondence from the principal mentioning his move. What he hadn’t expected was a letter from the Konoha prison.

At first he thought it was for the previous tenant, that they had failed to file the paperwork required to forward their mail in time and so the post office sent Iruka the wrong mail. A perfectly normal mistake. But. The letter was addressed to him. Umino Iruka. It even had the new address written out, not his old one; so it hadn’t been forwarded.

That was what made Iruka pause and his heart throb and his breath stutter. He hadn’t yet filled out the mail-forwarding paperwork either, a task he meant to do that night and file in the morning. No one besides the utilities and the Academy had his new address listed as official. The prison certainly didn’t.

He went inside and put his back against the door, locked it and set the wards, and only when he felt safe did he open the letter.

DID YOU REALLY THINK LEAVING WOULD RID YOU OF ME

Iruka dropped the paper and slid down the door. He blacked out.

~

“How is the new house?”

“I’m adjusting,” Iruka says. “It’s a lot more space. It’ll be better when Naruto comes home.”

“I understand Hatake-san is out of the village.”

Iruka nods.

“I also understand that you have the clearance to know the clocking estimate, but not the mission details.” Rikona holds up her hand to stop his question. “I don’t know about it either. You know more than I do, actually. Having once had Sandaime’s ear has put you in quite a unique position, hasn’t it?”

Iruka settles. “It does. Tsunade-sama also trusts me with a considerable amount of information well above my rank.”

“Do you feel that this is a source of anxiety for you?”

“No. I would worry more if I didn’t know.” Iruka scratches his scar with one finger. “I worry anyway, especially if the shinobi out on mission are former students of mine. But I think it would be worse if I didn’t have the clearance to check what they were going into.”

“Some of your students will be of age soon to be tapped for ANBU service,” Rikona prompts.

“I try not to think about that.”

“Your file says here you also were considered for service, should you advance in rank,” she leans her head into a propped hand, elbow balanced on the edge of her desk. “You could have met Hatake-san much earlier.”

“I’m not a good fit for ANBU, Rikona-sensei, and we both know that,” Iruka grins. “I’m… too soft.”

“Hmm. I don’t think that’s true. I think, maybe, you’re too human.”

“Too—?”

“ANBU, being the Hokage’s sharpest tools, have to separate themselves from their own humanity.” She smiles. “We’ve only been doing these sessions for about two months, but in my professional opinion, that separation would be particularly difficult for you.”

Iruka nods hesitantly. “I understand. I… I can, should a mission require it, but…”

“But that separation doesn’t come easy enough.” Rikona makes a note—a scribble, really—in the notes on her desk. “In our world, that weakness is pretty significant. But for your own profession, as a teacher of young people, that humanity is essential. Keep holding onto it.”

“Thank you,” Iruka nods. “I’ll certainly try.”

“We have five minutes left. Is there anything else you want to discuss quickly before we part for the week?”

Iruka thinks, briefly, about the letter in his genkan. He hasn’t been able to move it. It’s stuck under the edge of the table against the wall, one placed specifically for dropping keys and gloves and mail and hitai-ate onto when he gets home. The very edge of it laughs at him every time he leaves or enters his house.

“No. Nothing else comes to mind.”

Rikona nods. “Then I’ll see you next week, same time.”

“Thank you, Rikona-sensei.” He stands and bows, and then sees himself out.

~

He turns his face with the force of the slap—they learned that punches left bruises, but slaps only left red marks that faded by morning. His back meets the wall, the bookshelf, a picture frame; something crashes.

“Do you like making me mad Iruka?”

He’s pulled up by his shirt and slammed back into the wall again, this time the back of his head hits hard and he stands dazed for a moment. Mizuki cups his cheek, red and hot from the slap just a minute ago, and kisses him.

“I hate hurting you, but it seems like it’s the only way to make you listen.”

The kiss turns into a bite, Mizuki gnawing at his throat. He gasps, sobs, tries so hard to be quiet; they’re not in the bedroom yet why is Mizuki doing this they’re not in the bedroom yet—

“I give you all you could want, and you can’t even spare one evening for us to be alone?”

Mizuki won’t punch him in the face anymore; that doesn’t mean he won’t punch him elsewhere. His fist digs into Iruka’s stomach; he leans over, hugging his middle. He starts to slide down the wall at his back, the fabric of his shirt riding up as it scratches against the texture of old paint.

Mizuki halts him with a hand in his hair. He lets out an involuntary, soft cry.

“You only have me. Stop trying to replace me, so I won’t have to remind you who you belong to.”

Mizuki softens his voice, but tightens his hold on his hair.

“I don’t like hurting you, Iruka. But you make me so mad I can’t stand it. I’m the only one who can love you, okay?”

“Mizu—”

“I’ll be in the bedroom. Don’t make me wait too long.”

Then he lets go of his hair and Iruka slumps the rest of the way to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his head in his arms. Gods what did he do to anger Mizuki so?

…

Iruka wakes with tears stuck to his cheeks and eyelashes, his mouth dry as his own attempts at baked goods, and a deep-set chill which no amount of tea and blankets will stave off.

He really hopes Kakashi comes home soon. This sleeping alone thing is bullshit.

~

Iruka doesn’t sleep for the rest of the weekend. On Sunday evening he fills out a request for a substitute and leaves it on the principal’s office door, and then heads back home. It’s the sloppiest form he’s ever filled out, but he needs to try and sleep. He’s hoping he’s exhausted enough, being awake for over forty hours with the aid of food pills and meditation, that he’ll sleep dreamlessly tonight and tomorrow.

And then he goes to unlock his door and a pair of arms encircle him, and a soft voice rumbles in his ear, “Hello, Love,” and fuck he’s glad his reflexes are shit right now because his instinct screams danger! but his heart cries Kakashi—

He slumps back into Kakashi’s arms, sighing. “Welcome home,” he murmurs.

“Iruka?”

“Hmm. Really tired.”

“Me too. Bed?”

“Just to sleep.”

“Of course.”

Kakashi walks them inside and sets the wards while Iruka drops his keys and vest and takes off his sandals. The letter glares up at him from under the table; he subtly toes it further underneath, so Kakashi doesn’t see it.

The man already has it out for Mizuki. This would just push him over the edge. Better not.

Warm hands slip his hitai-ate off his head and gently untie his hair. He hums, and leans into Kakashi’s chest beside him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks.

“I’m okay,” Iruka says. “Just having an… adjustment period. With the new place. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Ah. I understand.”

He takes Iruka’s hands and kisses his wrists. Just about a month and a half ago, they’d been torn up with rope burn from the three days he’d spent in captivity. Now, there are just a few pale scars there. Kakashi kisses them every chance he gets.

He pulls Iruka along to the bedroom. “Do you need to eat first?” Iruka asks.

Kakashi shakes his head. “I had a ration bar on the way home. I’ll be alright until morning.”

Iruka opens the door and leads the way in, turning to face Kakashi once the door is shut behind them. He brushes his fingers along his partner’s mask, asking, “Is this—?”

“Take it, Love.”

He wets his lips and pulls the fabric down, and gently thumbs at pale cheekbones, lips, the mark at the corner of Kakashi’s mouth. More than anything else, getting to bare Kakashi’s face feels so intimate, so charged. He kisses him softly, chastely; Kakashi holds him around his waist and walks them back to the bed.

They strip each other quickly, touches and kisses growing heated. “I thought we were just going to sleep?” Kakashi chuckles.

“I missed you,” Iruka murmurs, moving to trail kisses down his jaw and throat, pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. He follows, dropping slowly to his knees and dragging kisses across the expanse of Kakashi’s pale chest. “Maybe I missed you too much,” he presses into Kakashi’s skin.

“Gods, Iruka, you—you don’t have to—oh, please,” Kakashi leans back on his palms, breath starting to come heavier. Iruka swirls his tongue around one nipple, bracing a hand on Kakashi’s lower back.

“I know I don’t have to,” Iruka sighs, licks his way to the other nipple and sucks harshly to pull a strangled gasp from his partner. “But I definitely want to, if it’s alright?”

“Yes. Yes, please, absolutely alright.”

He dips his head lower, nosing at Kakashi’s stomach and letting the man fall back onto the bed; first, to his elbows, then all the way flat on his back. He mouths around the base of Kakashi’s cock, breathing him in, feeling the lithe muscles of his thighs under his palms.

He’s still exhausted. But this. This he can stay awake for.

Iruka asks, lips against Kakashi’s reddened cock, “Can I put you in my mouth?”

“Please. Please, yes, yes, Ah—fuck, oh-oh shit—”

Normally, Iruka would simply slide Kakashi into his throat and hold him there, comfortably in his mouth, until Kakashi needs to come. Tonight, though… tonight he tries—more. He slides his lips down, down, down until they meet wiry curls, until the head of Kakashi’s cock, indeed, slips down his throat. And then. Then, he moves.

~

“Ah, yes, so nice. Perfect, Iruka; love you, love you, love—oh, oh shit, love what are you—OH GODS—”

Kakashi throws his fist into his mouth and bites down to keep from screaming as Iruka starts fucking his mouth on his cock, gliding up and down with spit-slicked lips and such warm, open, wet heat—it’s… it’s…

And then Iruka starts to speed up. He braces himself on Kakashi’s hips and bobs his head just out of Kakashi’s range of view—he could open the sharingan and see it perfectly but gods that would be cheating and he has no doubt in his mind that knowing he’s not being watched is actively helping Iruka avoid an episode so he won’t, he can’t. But oh, he wants.

“More. More, please. Whatever you can give me, please love,” Kakashi whines. “Fuck, Iruka.”

Iruka hums, tongues at him more, and pulls him into his throat to hold him for a moment. Breathes, in, out, in—out, and his mouth slides back up the shaft to the head. He stays there for a while, sucking and lapping at his slit and Kakashi pants heavily, reaching down with one hand blindly to touch Iruka’s hair. As Iruka begins to bob slowly again, Kakashi reaches even further to thumb at the corner of Iruka’s mouth, stretched around his cock. Iruka tips his head just slightly to the side, to lean into the touch.

“Can I—” Kakashi licks his lips, his breath hitching, “Can I use the g-word tonight?”

Iruka taps his hip… and then taps it again.

Kakashi nods. “Okay. Okay, Gods, but. Just. Oh. Fuck. Amazing. Literally Breathtaking, Iruka fu-uck.”

Iruka hums along his length; it sounds almost like a laugh.

“I’m. I need to. Love, please, I—”

He picks up his rhythm, faster now. His hand comes into play, touching his thighs and cupping his balls and fuck; his other hand holds the base of his cock and together with his mouth, Iruka—“Iruka, oh just-just like that please.” He’s not going to last. Fuck, he never lasts long with Iruka but this… this is turning out to be embarrassingly short.

“I’m gonna come. I’m gonna. Please. Iruka, Love, I know you don’t like—oh-oh-aah—like to swallow, but-but can I come in your mouth? Please, please don’t stop, please,” Kakashi knows he’s practically sobbing, but it’s staggering how wonderful this is, and he wants to come so bad but he’ll hold back until he has Iruka’s permission.

One tap on his hip. He waits. And waits. No… no second tap.

One tap means yes.

One tap means yes.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, oh yes, Iruka—!”

~

The flood of come in his mouth, while he is prepared for it, is still extremely unpleasant. He holds Kakashi’s dick as it pulses, until his mouth is full, and then he quickly pulls off and continues getting him off with his hand. He turns his head aside, pulls close a box of tissues from under his nightstand, grabs a handful, and spits. Once his mouth is clear, he pulls another few tissues from the box and starts cleaning Kakashi up.

He made quite the mess. Iruka smiles. His chest is heaving through his glow, both eyes gently closed. Iruka wipes away come from his groin and off his softening cock, also sopping up a bit that landed on his stomach. He bends over and presses a kiss to Kakashi’s navel, and says, “Be right back.”

Kakashi hums in response.

Iruka chuckles, and leaves for the bathroom. Tissues are fine to get rid of much of the mess, but it won’t clean up the residue. Plus, even if he didn’t just have come in his mouth, he’d have to brush his teeth.

He brushes quickly, washes his face, and as he lifts his head to look in the mirror—his heart stops.

“Sucking someone else off doesn’t mean I don’t still own you.”

Iruka turns, arm tight in a fist and aimed for the throat. But—all he hits is air.

All he hits…

Oh.

Iruka sags back against the vanity. He’s gone so long without sleep he’s hallucinating. He thought he saw—Mizuki—

A hand shoves the bathroom door open, Kakashi there with sharingan open and a kunai in hand. He takes in the room quickly, and then steps in and stands in front of Iruka. “I felt killing intent,” he says. “Are you okay?”

Iruka, through a rapidly drying mouth, mutters, “Just. I think I really need to get some sleep. Sorry. Thanks for coming and checking on me.”

Kakashi slowly crosses the bathroom to him, and presses a kiss to his forehead; he says, “If you’re sure,” and then leads them out.

Iruka fights the chill that runs down his spine as he turns off the light. He lays down, rests his head on Kakashi’s shoulder, and breathes in his partner’s comforting scent. All the while, he accepts being bundled in lithe arms and a thin blanket.

“Sure I can’t reciprocate?” Kakashi asks, voice hopeful.

“Not tonight,” Iruka mutters, pressing a kiss to Kakashi’s collarbone.

Maybe, if I can get some sleep… soon

He closes his eyes and lets his breath even out.

~

Kakashi wakes to someone flaring their chakra—he’s instantly alert and hovering protectively over Iruka, reaching for the same kunai he had grabbed earlier, kept at the edge of the mattress. He takes in the room quickly, searching for the threat… and finding none.

Below him, Iruka whimpers in his sleep, and his chakra flares. Kakashi sets the kunai down and eases himself back to Iruka’s side. A glance at the alarm clock shows that they’d barely been asleep for an hour. There are tears gathering at the corners of his eyes; Kakashi carefully brushes them away.

“I’m here, love,” he murmurs. “It’s just a dream.”

He lays an arm over Iruka’s waist to draw him closer—

Iruka, still asleep, pushes back. He thrashes, grits his teeth and nearly screams; Kakashi takes his wrists to keep Iruka from hitting him.

“Iruka, dear, wake up,” he tries again. Iruka, now on his back with Kakashi hovering over him again, his wrists pinned by his head, tosses his head side to side, crying in his sleep. It makes Kakashi’s chest hurt to see his partner so scared, so pained. “Love, please; it’s just a dream, shh, I’ve got you, I’ve got you—”

Iruka’s chakra flares dangerously, like it does when he’s about to activate a seal. But there’s no…

That’s never stopped him before.

Kakashi flickers away from Iruka, across the room, landing in front of the closet in a crouch. Just in time, it seems—the modified barrier seal pops into place where he had just been. The seal hangs, empty, like a bubble, for two or three seconds; and then flickers away once it registers the lack of a captured chakra signature.

Iruka’s breath stutters from the bed and the crying quiets; Kakashi approaches carefully. His hands are covering his face, and he’s turned onto his side, curled gently in Kakashi’s direction.

“Iruka?”

He sniffles, curls tighter. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Are you awake?”

Iruka nods. “Gods, I hope I am.”

Kakashi frowns. “Have you been having night terrors like this since you moved in?”

Iruka doesn’t answer immediately, but eventually shrugs. He takes his hands away from his face. “Not always… like that. Sometimes I remember the dreams. Those times are worse, honestly.”

“You don’t remember what happened just now?”

Iruka shakes his head. “Just the fear. The horrible, overwhelming fear.”

Kakashi sits on the bed beside Iruka and lays a hand on his shoulder. “What do you dream about, when you remember?”

“I… Kakashi, I’m just tired, can we do this tomorrow?”

“Not if you’re just going to have another nightmare or night terror as soon as you fall back asleep.” Kakashi usually wouldn’t press, but that… that honestly shook him a bit, seeing Iruka in the throes of his night terror. Talking about it won’t make it magically go away, but maybe Kakashi can help ease his mind a little.

Iruka sighs. “It’s so stupid.”

“Love.”

“Just. It’s Sato, okay? I don’t know, a change of scenery and now I’m just. Thinking about it again.”

Kakashi glowers. He leans down and presses a harsh kiss to Iruka’s hair, his temple, gently nudges him to his back so he can reach the rest of his jaw and face. “We never have to worry about that again.”

“I know.”

“I’ll never let that happen to you again.”

“Don’t promise me that,” Iruka says. “You can’t promise me that.”

“I’ll promise you what I need to to make you feel safe.”

“Promise to try your best. Promise to do everything you can.” Iruka sniffles, and wipes at his face, and then with his other hand he carefully cups Kakashi’s face. “I love you, but you can’t always be at my side. You can’t promise to keep me perfectly safe; that’s not how the world works.”

Kakashi leans into Iruka’s hand, turns his face and kisses his palm. “I’ll keep you in one of your own barrier seals if I have to,” Kakashi whispers with a grin, knowing Iruka will hear the humor in his voice.

Iruka, indeed, chuckles. “If you can even use them.” He tugs on Kakashi’s hand, and Kakashi comes back to lay down next to him. ��I don’t remember having more than one dream each night,” he mutters. “We should be okay for the rest of the night.”

Kakashi hums and leans his head on Iruka’s chest. His pulse is finally settling down. He closes his eyes again and falls back asleep to Iruka pushing fingers through his hair.

~

Iruka gets the mail again the next day, finally feeling mildly refreshed after sleeping most of the night. Kakashi left before he was supposed to leave for school, so he didn’t have to explain himself at least. There’s only one letter in his box, unmarked with a forwarding stamp and in a standard white envelope, not the blue ones in which utility bills are sent. It’s been twelve days in this new place; maybe it’s from his landlady. She mentioned sending her tenants bills for rent around mid-month, to remind them to pay by the first.

It’s not.

He gets inside, and the letter is return-addressed from the Konoha prison. Iruka leans his back against a wall and scrubs a hand down his face. Looks at the letter in his hand, then to the ceiling, and back to the letter.

He puts it down on the kitchen table. This is going to need some pre-emptive cleaning.

After the kotatsu has been vacuumed and the quilt changed, all the floors swept and mopped, and every piece of wooden furniture Iruka owns has been polished—only then does he dare look at the contents of the letter, undoubtedly from Mizuki.

He takes it in quickly. And then he drops the paper and slides back out of his chair and turns to tuck his face into the sink to throw up.

Mizuki wants him to visit. For a conjugal visit, specifically.

He can’t… he can’t keep this to himself now.

He rinses his mouth, gathers his wits and the letter, and then also grabs the letter from under the table in the genkan. He takes his time putting his vest and hitai-ate on.

Iruka heaves a sigh, and leaves his home.

Rikona-sensei said he can visit anytime in an emergency. This… this feels like an emergency. He feels floaty and loose, like he could slip away and dissociate at any time. He hopes he makes it to the hospital first.

~

Kakashi is just about to take the mission scroll from Tsunade when a rapid, unrepentant knocking comes on the office doors. Tsunade motions for Shizune to let whoever it is in, and keeps holding the scroll out for Kakashi regardless.

“My apologies, Tsunade-sama,” the hospital messenger says, bowing deeply. Then, she turns to Kakashi and says, “I have a message for you, Kakashi-san.”

Kakashi turns and gives the messenger his attention, leaving the scroll hanging from Tsunade’s fingers. “Go ahead.”

“As of 14:21 today, Umino Iruka has checked himself into mental health crisis care with Rikona-sensei. He’s listed you as his emergency contact for the duration of his stay.”

Kakashi dropped his hand away from the scroll. “I’m needed elsewhere,” he says, and waits only until Tsunade gives him a single nod before jumping out of the window and bounding across the village to the hospital.

What the fuck happened between last night and this afternoon that Iruka felt the need to-to—

He should have stayed. He should have slept in, should have held him longer, tighter. Whatever happened, Kakashi could have stopped it. Could have prevented it.

...Right?

He stops at the front doors and walks in, waving to the nurses at the administration desk while he moves to the stairs. Rikona-sensei’s office is on the third floor, along with the rest of the mental health clinic.

When he gets there, it’s quiet. Not many people use the mental health services the village has, himself included. But there are a smattering of civilians, and a single pre-teen genin bouncing her knee anxiously while she sits in a corner. The admission desk has a receptionist filing paperwork in manila folders. Kakashi taps on the desk to get her attention.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asks.

“No,” he says, “I’m here to see Rikona-sensei about my partner, Umino—”

“Rikona-sensei is in crisis management right now and is unreachable,” the receptionist drawls. “If you want to leave a message I’ll see that she gets it as soon as she’s available.”

“Miss.”

“Hmm?”

“Please look at me.”

She rolls her eyes behind her glasses, tosses pale blonde hair back over her shoulder, and picks up her chin to finally look at him. Her eyes bulge and her mouth drops open—just a bit, just enough to notice.

“Hatake-sama,” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“I’m here. To see my partner, Umino Iruka. He’s with Rikona-sensei. Please, could you point me in the right direction, that I could go see him?”

She visibly collects herself, and then says, “I’m very sorry, Hatake-sama. But Umino-sensei is in crisis. That means he can’t be disturbed until Rikona-sensei gives him a clean bill of health, or unless the Hokage overrides and calls him to service.” She ducks her head and pulls out a folder, opening and seeming to reference it. “He did list you as an emergency contact, so if his health takes a turn for the worse you’ll be notified, and if he becomes unable to make decisions regarding his own care you’ll be brought in to conference with Rikona-sensei to decide the direction of his treatment. Until then, the best thing you can do is be patient and wait for a messenger.”

Kakashi sighs. It was worth a shot.

He shrugs, and turns away. He takes a careful, chakra-enhanced sniff; Iruka’s scent is faint, but here, and tinged with fear-sweat. Kakashi leaves the clinic waiting room like he’s going to follow the receptionist’s instructions, and once he’s in the hallway he ducks out a window and walks along the outside of the building until he comes to the window where Iruka’s scent is strongest.

He stays beside it, not daring to look inside yet. The fear-scent lingers in the air here. Rikona must have aired out the room recently.

Kakashi flares his chakra, knowing that Iruka will feel it.

…

And then a small flicker comes back in return, and Kakashi can breathe easy again.

~

“I need. I need to know how he found me.”

“As soon as you’re calm, I will find that out for you,” Rikona says.

She closes the window and sits back down beside him. He'd needed air flow just a minute ago, but now that the panic threat has passed, he asked her to close it again.

He should have grabbed his fūinjutsu kit before leaving the house. He needs to seal the room.

“I am as calm as I'm going to get,” Iruka says.

“You have been having a moderate anxiety attack since we settled in this room. You are safe here.”

“I was supposed to be safe at home!”

“Iruka-sensei, please. I understand your frustration, but yelling is only going to work yourself up even more. You need to settle yourself.”

“When can I see Kakashi?”

“When you’re out of crisis.”

Iruka gets up and paces the width of the small office. “What if. What if he never stopped.”

“Iruka—”

“What if he has other people following me, watching me. ‘Did you really think leaving would rid you of me.’ Of course not,” Iruka laughs. “Of course he wouldn’t let me just-just move—”

“Mizuki is in prison. He has had no control over you for years, if he ever had any at all,” Rikona says. “Moving was a choice you made, not only to get away from the memories of Mizuki in your old apartment, but there were other reasons, were there not?”

Iruka pants, his rant having been halted but his heart still pounding. He stops his pacing and taps his fingers against crossed arms. “I… yeah, but—”

“What were those reasons?”

“I really don’t—”

“Saying them aloud again would be beneficial. Please, sit. Fidget, if you must. But sit.”

Iruka takes the other chair and faces the window. Drumming his fingers along his arm and fighting back a flush, he says, “Naruto is going to need a bigger room when he comes home.”

“That’s right. What else?”

“Kakashi likes to cook, and my old kitchen wasn’t… he commented that it didn’t have a lot of counter space.”

“And the new house, you made sure it has plenty of space in the kitchen for your partner.”

“He loves the new kitchen,” Iruka says.

“Anything else?”

“The yard.” Iruka stops fidgeting, shifting forward to put his elbows on his knees. “Kakashi’s ninken ran laps around it the first day for three hours. The whole pack. They’re so sweet. You know they call me ‘Boss’s Boss’?”

Rikona laughs. “High praise, I’m sure.”

“Kakashi hates it,” Iruka chuckles along softly. “He was like, ‘My boss is the Hokage?!’ and Pakkun—he’s the pack beta, I think?—he says, ‘yeah, for missions. At home, Sensei’s Boss.’”

Rikona reaches out for his wrist. He lets her touch his pulse quietly for a few seconds. She smiles.

“Keep going. You’re doing great.”

Iruka leaves his hand palm up on his lap within easy reach. With his other hand he rubs at his scar. “It just… it felt like the time. I’d been in that apartment since after the Kyūbi attack. Mizuki moved out as soon as he could, but I… I stayed. I liked the stability. Until I was chūnin it was subsidized by the village, so I could spend my money how I needed instead of worrying about rent. Now, though…”

“Now?”

Iruka sucks in a breath. “Now I’m moving forward. I have Naruto when he comes home, and I have a place for him when he gets here. And… and if I’m ever ready to take the step to ask Kakashi to move in with me, I’ve already secured a house that I know he likes.”

“You’re providing for your future. That’s amazing progress.”

“But Mizuki—”

“Is behind bars in the village prison. He is not a threat.” Rikona takes his wrist again, frowns, and says, “I want you to say that aloud for me.”

“He sent me letters. He knows where I live. The prison shouldn’t have been updated on my address change before the post office—”

“Deep breaths. I understand your concern, and I will help you figure out what has happened. But Mizuki is not a threat. He is in prison. I want you to say that.”

Iruka hugs himself with his free arm. “Mizuki is not a threat. He’s in prison.”

“Can you trust in our system?”

“Yes, but—”

A brief flare of chakra interrupts his thought. He knows that chakra. He fights the smile that tries to creep onto his face.

“But?”

Kakashi

He can see Kakashi once he’s out of crisis

“Yes, I’m sorry.” He flickers his chakra, directing it to the window. “I’m. Yes. Okay. Please, just… I need to know how he found me.”

Rikona nods, and takes his wrist again. She smiles. “I’m going to get you some medicine, to help keep you relaxed. And then we’ll go see Tsunade-sama.”

She leaves and locks the door behind her from the outside, like he’s not a shinobi and doesn’t know how to pick a lock. Once she’s gone, he darts over to the window and opens it. He sticks his head out and looks to each side, but Kakashi’s not—

“Hello, Love.”

He smiles and turns his face skywards. Kakashi holds himself to the hospital wall with one hand and both feet, and then eases his way down to the open windowsill and perches on the edge. Iruka backs up and makes room, but doesn’t let Kakashi come into the office.

“Are you alright?” Kakashi asks.

Iruka’s instinct is to say that he’s fine, and he opens his mouth to say it; but a glance at the deeply worried look in Kakashi’s eye changes his mind. “Not… no.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Don’t do anything rash?”

“Don’t do… Iruka, what happened?” Kakashi's eye turns dark and he lifts his palm to press along Iruka’s cheek.

He shakes his head. “Please, just—”

“No, Iruka.”

He is stopped, both of Kakashi’s hands on his face now.

“You. You’re in crisis management. I’m not even supposed to be here, not even allowed to see you yet. You don’t—you don’t get to just tell me to hold off, or stay back. I’m here to help you. Please, gods, let me help.”

Did you really think leaving would rid you of me

Sucking someone else off doesn't mean I don’t still own you

…Conjugal visit…

“I need to do this myself, Kakashi,” Iruka murmurs. He leans forward to press their foreheads together and continues, “Just keep… keep being steady for me. I need you to be a safe, sturdy place for me to fall in case this all goes wrong.”

Kakashi whines softly. “I don’t like it. I want to help.”

“You are helping.”

“More. I need to help you more.”

“Kiss me?”

Kakashi doesn’t take down his mask, but presses their lips together anyway. Iruka melts into the kiss regardless, and then trails his mouth up to Kakashi’s eye and kisses his brow.

“Please trust me. I’ll tell you everything once it’s over.”

“I do trust you.” Kakashi sighs. “Please, though. If you need me, send for me. I’m going to stay in the village until you’re okay.”

Iruka nudges their noses together. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He turns to the door. “Rikona-sensei is coming back. I have to go.”

“Water my plants for me?”

“Of course, Love.” Kakashi leans in and kisses him once more, and then falls off of the windowsill. Iruka watches him go, crossing his arms and resting his shoulder against the open window.

The office door opens and Rikona comes in. In one hand she holds a cup of water, and in the other a small orange pill. “Are you ready, Iruka-sensei?”

He sighs quietly, and closes the window, then turns to her. He takes the pill, drinks the entire cup of water, and then sighs, “Yes. Lead the way, please.”

[ivegotbreadinmypants]

If you’re taking prompts: “you could have warned me!” Fluffffff please and thank you!

Thank you so much for the ask! I am so sorry this took so long! I had forgotten this was in my drafts 😂 

Welp, here you go now! Enjoy all 2k fluffy jealous goodness!

@jask-jaskier-jaskiest

Prompt: “You could have warned me!”

---

Geralt is not a jealous man.

He's not.

He just doesn't like it when people still think Jaskier’s old reputation true—back when the bard was young, free, unapologetically loving, and Geralt still hadn’t quite realized the reason for the swaths of warm in his chest whenever Jaskier smiled at him.

Their relationship is fairly new; their dynamic is still a little stilted as they try to figure out the unspoken boundaries and each other’s wants. It has been smooth sailing mostly. 

But fuck, can Jaskier’s old reputation be annoying.

Past and newer lovers are as taken with the bard as Geralt is. It's ridiculous that such a fumbling, awful-at-flirting bard has men and ladies fawning over him.

It's worse when he's teaching at Oxenfurt.

Geralt can't count on both his hands the number of times he's seen students try and fail to flirt with their professor. Most students know to back off, especially when Geralt is within radius. They are well-aware of the famed tales of The White Wolf and his bard, Dandelion.

So, it’s quite a shock when this one particular student just would not leave Jaskier’s side, even when Geralt starting hovering around the pair.

“Professor, I was wondering if you can help me with my piece? I was having trouble with how the tempo would match with the wor—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts, catching up to the both of them. The bard beams, and Geralt—as always—softens. “Geralt! You’re here early.”

“I’ve been here for the past twenty minutes.”

Jaskier blinks. “Oh. Well, uh, just give me a few more minutes then we can go off, okay?”

Geralt grunts. The student, a pretty blond boy with bright green eyes, does not even look in his direction. Geralt tries his best to hide his grimace. 

Jaskier had once berated him for scaring off his students during one of his visits. To be fair, it was satisfying to see the group of young eager students nearly shit their pants at his looming figure.

They don’t quite believe that a man—whose trademark is being flamboyant and loving every thing that existed on the Continent—would be utterly and mutually smitten with a man who was practically his opposite—whose trademark is his surly frown and golden cat eyes.

“Professor, do you think we can schedule an appointment? A one-on-one consultation if you’ll allow it.” The boy’s eyes are bright, lively and a touch devilish. Everything that reminds Geralt of eighteen year old Jaskier. And Gods only know how much of a handful that young man was. 

Geralt had lost count how many times he’s had to end a tavern fight that Jaskier started. In the first year they started travelling together.

“Of course. However, that would mean you would have to wait a couple of weeks since I am going on the road,” Jaskier says, friendly and helpful and completely oblivious to the glint in the kid’s eye.

Geralt grimaces when the kid even takes it a step further, placing his hand on Jaskier’s bicep.

(It’s not like Geralt can really blame him. Jaskier is not at all scrawny.)

“That won’t be a problem at all, professor.”

Fucking hell.

The kid is practically moaning out Jaskier’s title.

And somehow, the bard still grins.

Geralt wants nothing more than to leave, right about now. At this absolute moment. But there is no way in any world is Geralt going to leave Jaskier here.

He wishes he hasn’t gotten himself in trouble with the school that one time—when he insulted one of the other professors for stealing one of Jaskier’s songs. 

(—But it was entirely worth it when Jaskier let out the biggest, up-roaring laugh of his life—) 

Because then he’d still be able to scare this kid off with minimal chastising.

The kid’s face pinked, and he leans in to Jaskier’s ear and—

“C’mon, Jaskier. Roach doesn’t like to wait.” Jaskier squawks when he’s practically manhandled back to Geralt’s side, his thick arm winding around his lithe waist. 

“But—” 

“I don’t like to wait,” Geralt grumbles, lips near Jaskier’s neck, voice dangerously low; Jaskier has to fight the urge to shiver. He can’t quite fight the redness in the tips of his ears.

“Geralt,” he mumbles, impish smile on his lips, “you’re awfully impatient.”

“I am. It’s been a week since I saw you.” And what a long week it was. First, Geralt had to deal with alghouls that had practically kicked out an entire village’s populace. Then, he had to manage the tempers of two prickly sorcerers, with the threat of being turned into a frog at his throat.

Truly, Geralt has been craving nothing but Jaskier’s presence. But it’s difficult in the winter, because the bard is adamant on keeping his yearly Oxenfurt teaching tradition.

This week would only get worse if he had to endure another second of inappropriate one-sided teacher-student flirting. 

Speaking of which...

Geralt looked over his shoulder to glare at the kid with narrowed eyes, baring his teeth. There’s a thrum of satisfaction when a flash of regret and fear runs over the student’s face, and he turns on his heel in the opposite direction.

He knows he didn’t have to do that. But Gods, he couldn’t resist.

He tightens his hold on Jaskier, revelling in the bard’s laboured breaths, the sweetness of lust enveloping Geralt’s senses. He wears a half-hidden proud grin as he drags Jaskier out of the school, disinterestedly noting all the stares they’re getting.

*

Only when Geralt has completed a drowner contract does Jaskier question him. They’re not yet out of Temeria by the time night falls, since Geralt had come across a noticeboard that was basically begging for a witcher.

Jaskier had just finished untying the knots on Geralt’s blood-caked armor, both ready to tuck in soon, and is now sitting flushed to Geralt’s side, playing a mindless tune as he stares at the witcher from the corner of his eye.

The bard does have to wait for a while for the words to come, considering he’s doing his gaze lovingly at Geralt ritual for the night. But once they do, Jaskier says, “Can you indulge my curiosity for a moment?”

Geralt stops in his sword sharpening, eyeing Jaskier, and grunts.

“Why were you acting all... weird today? Back at Oxenfurt, when I was talking to Stefan. What was wrong? Did I do something? Did you do something?”

The witcher purses his lips, darting his gaze away as if he were shy.

“Come on, Geralt. I won’t laugh, I promise.” Jaskier is more than patient when Geralt grits his teeth, a ball of suppressed thoughts and emotions; it’s much easier to coax things out of Geralt, even if it does take a few sugar-coated attempts and easy smiles.

His eyes remind Jaskier of a cat when he keeps looking around, as if he’s trying to find an excuse to avoid this conversation.

Eventually, like always, Geralt can’t quite hide away from Jaskier like he used to, and he faces the bard.

“That kid. Stefan.” Jaskier nods, even if he has no idea where this was going.

“He kept—” Geralt screws up his face. The campfire brings out the heat in those golden eyes. “He kept flirting with you. Touching you.”

Geralt grabs Jaskier’s hands and threads their fingers together. “Got a little angry. Protective.”

Jaskier blinks.

“Wait. Me and Stef—wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwait,” Jaskier sputters, “you think that my student was flirting with me?”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but the fond curl to his lips diminishes the effect. “As if you don’t notice the line of admirers at your office door everyday.”

Jaskier opens his mouth, gapes for a moment, narrowing his eyes; then he tilts his head, jaw closing with a click. “Tha—That’s true. I suppose. But come on.”

Just as he had promised, Jaskier doesn’t laugh, but he desperately wants to. 

“Stefan? Really? Okay, I get what you mean, but I swear it’s not because he’s attracted to me. Not in the slightest.” Jaskier smiles softly, hand coming up to stroke the line of Geralt’s jaw. “Sort of a funny story, actually.”

“Pray tell,” Geralt practically purred, softening in the palms of Jaskier’s callused hands, eyes heavily lidded.

“How would you prefer it, in verse or in normal speech?”

“Normal speech would do just fine,” Geralt huffs.

“Twas the first day of last year’s winter term, and I was merely feasting upon my lovely, lovely, sandwich—a sandwich that you made, actually. Full of delicious meats and amazing vegetables that you had lovingly cut just for me, a sandwich I had the magnificent honour of eating.”

“I thought I said normal speech.”

“It is,” Jaskier says, puffs of his laughter on Geralt’s cheeks. “I was just celebrating the fact my boyfriend made me a sandwich.”

Geralt’s shoulders shake, eyes warm with affection.

“And it was the most curious when a man I had never met before, blond with forest green eyes—”

Geralt rolls his eyes.

“—came up behind me and started to recite one of my poems—by heart!”

Geralt frowns, but Jaskier smooths the lines away with gentle strokes of his thumbs.

“I was about to thank him for the recital, but I turned around and gods, he had the reddest blushes I’ve ever seen.” Jaskier laughs under his breath. “He had thought I was his girlfriend, who I’ve actually had the pleasure of meeting. She’s very tall, taller than me even. I think she might be part elf.”

“So, what does that have to do with the flirting?”

“After that, he made a point to recite my other poems as a joke, especially the old bad ones I’ve written. The flirting just added to the experience.”

Geralt is staring at him now, eyes a little more awake. Under his hands, Jaskier can feel the gradual increase in temperature on the planes of Geralt’s scruffy cheeks—even if he can’t see the red, Jaskier knows Geralt is blushing from embarrassment.

Geralt hums, then rumbles; his eyes go down and then all of a sudden, Geralt is curling forward and leaning into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, hiding his face away. Jaskier doesn’t stop his laugh this time, hands automatically sliding in Geralt’s hair and over his shoulders, his lips on the witcher’s temple.

“You could’ve warned me,” Geralt grumbles, pulling Jaskier into his lap to fully embrace the bard. Jaskier only snorts.

“You could’ve warned me before carrying me out there like the brute that you are. I can only imagine the types of rumors that are cooking up in there now,” Jaskier mumbles, pressing the witcher closer to his chest. 

Gods, he’s missed this.

Geralt hums, low and warm, but a touch despondent. Jaskier frowns, hand swiping down the witcher’s spine. “Darling, if you’re uncomfortable with the flirting, I can just ask him to stop.”

“It’s yours and Stefan’s thing.” Jaskier doesn’t need to look at Geralt’s face to know he’s missing the twinkle in his eyes.

“Geralt, my dear witcher, you come first. You know that, right?” He presses his lips on the crown of Geralt’s head, grimacing when he smells the sea-salt and coppery blood from the drowners.

“I know that this is new. For both of us. The last thing I want is to screw it up with you without me knowing. So, tell me when something is bothering you. I promise I won’t laugh the next time.” Geralt’s shoulders shake with mirth. 

It’s only a flurry of silver and pale skin before a pair of long-missed lips seal his. Jaskier strokes a finger along Geralt’s jaw, not missing how easy and pliable the witcher becomes when he does so. 

It’s soft, sweet, with a touch of longing. It’s only been a week since Geralt’s last visit, but neither can ever get enough of each other. It’s only by sheer stubbornness of wanting to keep the other party happy do they resist jumping each other’s bones at the moment.

They breathe in each other’s air, foreheads pressed flushed, and Jaskier sighs reverently—much like a damsel would when in presence of her prince—melting in Geralt’s embrace.

“I don’t care if he flirts with you,” Geralt says eventually. “If only I get to read your older poems. 

“Oh Gods, I’d rather eat my own shoe than let you see those,” Jaskier groans. “A lot of them were about pining after a certain golden-eyed man. Quite pathetic.”

“I don’t know,” Geralt teases, nose brushing against Jaskier’s, “maybe Stefan and I can bond over that. We’d ambush you in the middle of a lectures, start reciting your verses.”

“I shall never forgive you,” Jaskier threatens, but his next words are muffled by bursts of laughter when Geralt digs his fingers into Jaskier’s sensitive sides.

“Whatever you say, bard.”

[britishassistant]

Those Three Monsters

There’s a Demon in the Academy.

It’s a miracle it’s even allowed to attend, is what Urami’s kaa-chan says to Akui’s in a low voice, shaking her head in that knowledgable way she does. Even if it’s in the year below Mi-chan and A-kun, everyone knows it’ll only be a matter of time before it snaps and someone gets hurt. Foxes will kill all the chickens in a henhouse for fun rather than for food after all.

What are the Academy teachers thinking? Akui’s kaa-chan always asks in response. It’s not like training that thing will make it any more loyal to the village. It’s a waste of their taxes to even let it take up a desk it’s too stupid and reckless to appreciate.

Urami sneaks a glance at it in the Academy playground in the morning, before classes.

It’s already got it’s first victim singled out, hanging off the arm of that dead-fish-eyed girl with the awful fashion sense. It’s probably mistaken the foreigner for an actual fish, she tells Akui-kun on their way to class.

He laughs in response. “Do you think Iron scrap tastes like fish?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that blond eyesore thinks so. The Demon’s so dumb, the only reason they let it in here is because the stupid teachers are too scared to tell it to go away. My mama says that if they have any sense, they won’t teach it anything.”

Akui-kun ponders this. “Well it’s so dumb, it probably doesn’t understand anything we’re learning anyway. It’s just a crappy fox after all! It could never be a good ninja!”

She beams at her friend’s cleverness and is about to reply, when they’re rudely shouldered apart.

“Hey!” She yells after the jerk who did it.

That idiot Rock Lee turns and smiles at them. His eyes are weird though, sending a shiver she’ll never admit to feeling down her spine. “Ah, excuse me fellow classmates! I was so busy thinking about how youthful my friends are, I did not notice you! Please accept my humble apologies for inconveniencing you!”

Akui-kun snorts. “Whatever, weirdo.”

They try to walk past him, but the stupid eyebrows blocks them from entering the classroom. “You know, Naruto-kun is sure to be an excellent ninja once we all graduate the Academy! His youthfulness and Will of Fire shine so brightly it is impossible not to notice! I hope to be on a team with him and the most beautiful Haruno Sakura under Gai-sensei once we graduate!!”

She can’t stop her lip from curling. “Seriously? That Demon is just a team casualty waiting to happen! Why would anyone with a brain want to be with a stupid monster like him?!”

Rock Lee stops smiling and looks her dead in the eye. “Naruto at least does not gossip about his comrades behind their backs like a coward. He’s already proven he’s a better ninja than you could ever hope to be.”

She feels her face going hot and Akui-kun splutters beside her as the know-nothing talentless eyebrows turns on his heel, ignoring them as he goes to sit next to TenTen-san!

They try to make him pay in taijutsu spars later that day, they do! It’s not their fault that the stupid talentless eyebrows cheats and is blatantly favored by Iruka-sensei because he’s so useless at everything else!!

Urami fusses over the red bruise on her cheek that afternoon after the Academy lets out. What if it swells and goes all purple and ugly and Neji-kun will think she’s hideous and never look at her ever again?!

Akui-kun grumbles and glares at where the useless talentless worthless eyebrows is messing around with the demon by the swings. “What would he even know about being a ninja?! He can’t even use chakra! He’s the biggest failure of a ninja there is!”

She shuts her compact with a click. “I think it’s amazing he hasn’t dropped out already. I mean, him having a desk at the Academy is somehow an even bigger waste of time than that demon right? Letting him believe he can be a ninja when he’s so worthless—the teachers really are cruel.”

Akui-kun’s mouth curls up into that smile he gets whenever he’s thought of something really clever. “It’s probably because he’s an orphan, you know? It’s seriously charity, because everyone feels sorry for such a pathetic pair of eyebrows. That’s probably why he’s hanging out with the demon too. Who else would want him?”

She giggles high and fast, feeling daring. “I bet his parents are alive but were so disgusted with what an ugly baby he was, they dumped him at the Orphanage rather than be burdened with him. I mean, if I had a baby that looked like him, I’d get rid of it as fast as I could!”

Akui-kun grins back, his eyebrows creased.

”Oi, you two.”

They turn to see the Iron girl standing behind them, hips cocked at a weird angle. Her dead-fish-eyes are super creepy, staring down at them without blinking.

She flushes. “D-don’t you know better than to eavesdrop on your senpai?!”

She tilts her head, lips curling up into a mocking smirk. “Yeah, I really couldn’t give less of shit. Just thought I’d give you some...friendly advice.”

Akui-kun straightens, looking down his nose at the dumb foreigner. “Wh-what could someone like you even tell us that we don’t already know?”

The Iron scrap shrugs almost carelessly. “Lee’s going to be the best ninja this village has ever seen. He’s kind and honest and strong, even without using ch-chakra to cheat. It’s why Gai-sensei brought him to our training, why everyone who’s anyone is friends with him, why my parents keep trying to adopt him even though the Orphanage is too dumb to let us. Telling lies about an amazing person like him...you’re just asking to get cursed.”

She wants to laugh, ask the stupid immigrant what the hell rotted her brain, but she—she can’t. Akui-kun’s gone pale and his mouth is quivering. The air feels—feels heavy, all of a sudden. Almost like it won’t let her breathe.

The slant-eyed scrap pats them each on the shoulder, smirk wide and evil. “I’d pray for forgiveness if I were you, and watch your mouths in the future. You never know who’s listening after all.”

Then that—that stupid, eavesdropping, treacherous intruder walks past them to where the demon and eyebrows are waiting and waving to her.

She can’t move a muscle until the three monsters leave the Academy grounds. Then Akui-kun bursts into tears.

Urami’s had a string of bad luck since last night. It almost feels like everything that could go wrong did, starting from when she complained about the eavesdropping foreigner to kaa-chan, only for her mother to go pale and scold her furiously for insulting Lee when he’s a student of the jounin Maito Gai.

When she sees Akui-kun after her kaa-chan drags her round to discuss what happened with Akui’s kaa-chan, he’s looking just as pale and tired as she feels.

”That stupid foreigner probably cursed us with creepy Iron magic.” He complains as they sit on his back porch.

She shudders. “You think so? How awful! She’s not human!”

“Well, Iron samurai are so backwards they basically live in caves in the mountains.” Akui-kun says. “Tou-san says they’re more like monkeys that learned how to swing around swords than actual people.”

”I hate her.” She complains, spinning a kunai around her finger. “What’s that dead-fish-eyes even doing in this village anyway?! She and her scrap metal family should just go back to the mountains where they belong!”

Akui-kun straightens, looking at the bush at the bottom of the garden. “Pass that here.” He says.

She hands it over with a frown, and watches as he throws it at something. There’s a sound like a cry and she claps. “Well done Akui-kun! What’d you hit?”

He grins his special smile at her and pulls her down to the bottom of the garden. A fat grey pigeon lays dead in the dirt under the bush. She pulls out her kunai and wipes it on the vermin’s feathers.

“Tou-san used to go put these on the scrap’s doorstep with Gizen-jii when the slant’s father was trying to betray the village.” He tells her excitedly. “If we go put this there, it’ll make her stupid curse rebound back onto her for sure!”

She knew there was a reason why she was friends with him all these years! “For real?! You’re so smart Akui-kun!”

They both get up early and sneak out the next morning, the dead bird in a plastic shopping bag with “GO DIE STUPID IRON SCRAP” written on the outside with marker. She was quite proud of thinking to write that one there.

They get to the house where the foreigners live. They’re giggling to each other as they go up to the front door.

“Hey! What’re you guys doing?!”

Urami freezes. Akui looks terrified.

They turn to see the Demon behind them.

It glances between them, then down at the bag. It’s face curls into a snarl at the sight of the marker, teeth white and pointed, blue eyes cruel, whiskers curving over its cheeks.

”LEAVE MAYU-CHAN ALONE!!” It screams, lunging for them.

They drop the bag and run for it, but it’s no use, the Demon’s too fast, it’s gaining on them.

It is a Fox that will kill them for fun at any moment, Urami’s sure of it.

Suddenly her shirt is seized and she can’t run anymore. She thrashes around, trying to escape, hears Akui-kun screaming that it was all her idea, like a liar—

Urami looks up and sees a pair of eyebrows even bushier than dumb Lee’s on the man holding onto her and Akui-kun.

”WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” The giant green eyebrows booms.

She tries to stutter out an answer, or beg the man to not let the Fox eat them, when the Demon yells, “Gai-sensei, those jerks were tryna put this outside Mayu-chan’s door, believe it! There’s—oh gross, there’s a dead bird in here!!”

The giant eyebrows pull down to look thunderous, and Urami whimpers.

Urami doesn’t talk to Akui-kun anymore.

She isn’t allowed to listen when her parents talk about grown-up village things anymore either. Not since the jounin in green escorted her and Akui home in disgrace and scolded them in front of their parents. She’s apparently “too immature” to be trusted with listening anymore.

She’s heard rumors Akui-kun might drop out of the Academy soon and go work at his Gizen-jii’s convenience store. She kind of hopes he won’t, even if he is a spineless traitor who tried to sell her out.

She doesn’t know if she can survive being a ninja on her own.

One thing’s for sure though.

She is staying as far away as she can get from those— those three monsters as she can get.

[honibee-arts]

Sangcheng atla au in which jc is a water bender and nhs is a kyoshi warrior?

“What the hell are you doing on my island?” 

The last thing Jiang Cheng had expected to wake up to after a long night of listening to his idiotic brother talk the ears off of the two air nomads that had not only offered to teach him airbending, but were also kind enough to allow Jiang Cheng and his siblings to take their flying bison to the Earth Kingdom so Wei Wuxian could get an earthbending master, was to wake up to another weird thing. 

But who could expect any semblance of normalcy when your brother was the fucking avatar. 

Said thing was actually a person, caked in white make up and glaring down at him with red painted golden eyes. The gold silk hanging off their headdress fell into Jiang Cheng’s eyes, the persons crimson painted lips pulled into a frown.

“The fuck...?”

“I said, what are you doing on my island?”

“Shit... Wei Wuxian! Where the hell did we land last night?” He shouted, sitting up and shouting in the direction of his brother.

“Lan Zhan was flying the damn bison, ask him!”

“The bison has a name.” Lan Wangji said coolly, brushing his hands through the sleeping bison’s fur. “Fluffy prefers to be called by his name.”

“Stop petting the damn bison and tell us where we are!” Jiang Cheng snapped back, feeling his migraine begin to grow.

“Assumed it was obvious. You are speaking with the head of the Kyoshi Warriors.”

Kyoshi Warrio- oh shit.

Jiang Cheng stood up and held his arms out in a bow.

“Forgive me, I had no idea. I did not mean to cause offence.”

“Really? You had no clue you were on Kyoshi Island? At all? The statue and my face didn’t give anything away?” The warrior raised an eyebrow.

“Forgive my brother,” A-Jie smiled, stepping forward. “I am Jiang Yanli of the Southern Water Tribe. This is my brother Jiang Cheng. Our brother Wei Wuxian is the avatar. We were headed to the Earth Kingdom to seek out a master for him, and sought help from the air nomads who travelled with us. Their bison, Fluffy, grew tired and Lan Xichen suggested we land here for the night.”

“Lan Xichen, you say?” The warrior asked, opening their fan and flapping it against their face in thought. “Where is he now?”

“I believe he went into the market to restock on supplies.” A-Jie answered.

“That... would make sense. I know the kind of man he is. I’ve known him since I was a child. I really wish da ge would have warned me before you lot showed up though... aiya...” they clicked their tongue and snapped their fan shut. “Come with me, I’ll take you to one of the taverns so you can freshen up and rest. If you need extra weaponry or your tools sharpened, the Warriors of Kyoshi are happy to help.”

“Forgive me,” A-Jie called as the warrior turned on their heel. “May I ask your name?”

“Nie Huaisang.”

“Wait, Nie Huaisang as in... General Nie Mingjue’s younger brother? The one that just... disappeared? The non-bender?” Jiang Cheng blurted in confusion, brow furrowed. “I heard he was dead. Something about being too weak and sickl- yaah!” 

The warrior lunged forward, gripping Jiang Cheng’s wrist and inner elbow, spinning him around until his stomach lurched and pressing a palm to his chest, changing direction before letting go abruptly. Nie Huaisang snatched his belt from his waist and wrapped it around his wrist and ankle, binding them and causing Jiang Cheng to tumble to the ground. With his free arm, Jiang Cheng pushed himself onto his back, only for his Adams apple to bob against the sharp, gold hued metal of Nie Huaisang’s fan.

“Yes. Nie Huaisang. The weak little non-bender brother of the Great General Nie Mingjue, the most powerful earth bender in the four kingdoms. That’s me. Don’t you dare call me that again.” He said sharply.

“I-I won’t.” Jiang Cheng stammered, looking down nervously at the blade pointed at his neck.

“Say ‘Yes sir’.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good! Now, let me show you into the village?” Nie Huaisang said brightly. 

In the end, Nie Huaisang ended up joining them on their journey to the Earth Kingdom. The wind whipped in his long, dark hair, caressing the soft fringe that fell into his eyes under the headband of his gold headdress, causing the olive green robes to billow around him dramatically. 

Jiang Cheng studied his profile nervously. 

Wei Wuxian sat next to Lan Wangji, probably driving the stoic airbender insane with his constant nattering while A-Jie shared recipes and sibling stories with Lan Xichen. This left Jiang Cheng in an awkward silence next to Nie Huaisang.

“Hey... um. Nie Huaisang. I’m sorry, about what I said.”

“It’s fine. I’m used to being underestimated by your kind.” He said calmly, looking ahead at the miles of endless blue sky.

“My kind?”

“Benders. Particularly ones who feel as though they cannot live without their bending.” his golden eyes glanced at Jiang Cheng. “Your kind look down on people like me. Despite our noble history, the Warriors have been looked down on.”

“My sister is a non-bender, how can I look down on her?”

“You feel as though you must protect her, right?”

“I... yes. But thats because my sister-”

“Is capable of protecting herself when necessary.” Nie Huaisang cut in. “Just because she can’t command the oceans, control a typhoon, move a mountain or burn a whole forest does not mean she cannot protect herself. She has proven she can take care of herself.”

Jiang Cheng fell silent.

“You’re protective of her, like my da ge was of me. But have you considered how your protectiveness may make her feel?”

“I just want to make sure she and Wei Wuxian are safe. That’s all I care about. If... If I can protect them. I will.”

“Your heart is in the right place, Jiang Cheng. You just need to reassess your biases.” Nie Huaisang said softly.

Jiang Cheng sighed. This was to be a long journey, but he was glad to have Nie Huaisang with him.

They arrived in the Earth Kingdom without fanfare.

Jiang Cheng sighed in relief. Their time in the Earth Kingdom was appearing to be a peaceful time. For once.

Over their travels, Nie Huaisang had insisted that his older brother would be the perfect teacher for Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng was tentative to agree, having heard tales of the generals temper and lack of patience. The Lan brothers were barely managing his shit as it was.

“Xichen, it’s been some time.” The general called as Lan Xichen dismounted the flying bison, the wind carrying him gently to the ground.

“Mingjue, it is good to see you again.” Lan Xichen smiled, taking his hands.

The two smiled at each other earnestly, murmuring things that Jiang Cheng couldn’t quite catch. Confused, he shot a glance at Huaisang, only to find the warrior was no longer there.

“Da ge!” He cried, running up to his brother. Jiang Cheng held in a snicker as he saw the significant size difference between the two brothers. “Da ge why didn’t you warn me Xichen-ge was bringing the avatar to Kyoshi Island?”

“I did, you just don’t check your damn mail.”

“As leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, I am too busy to be checking my mail like a lovelorn maiden pining after her lover who has gone to war, unlike some people.” Huaisang looked between his brother and the older Lan.

“Well if your business on the island was so important, why did you accompany the avatar to see me?”

“I figured he needed a good reference so you would teach him.”

“Xichen can give it.”

“Xichen-ge nice to everyone, da ge.”

“So?”

“Yes let your biased boyfriend give you a biased reference.”

“Wait, I thought air nomads weren’t meant to marry-” Jiang Cheng began.

“We are not.” Said Lan Wangji.

“It’s complicated.” Said Lan Xichen.

“Huaisang, if you’re going to run your mouth like this you can fuck off back to the island.”

“But da geeeeeeeee” he whined.

Jiang Cheng was wrong. This was not going to be peaceful.

[kristenbeeapples]

@apple-scrumper‘s tags on this post about Zuko and Azula having the same vibes as Adaine and Aelwyn got me thinking about an a:tla au for fantasy high, and it spiralled out of control into this super long post. Enjoy!!

Adaine’s family are Fire Nation and are Important Advisors to the Fire Lord Kalvaxus. Adaine and Aelwyn have that sibling rivalry going HARD – Aelwyn has already mastered lightning-bending and Will Not Shut Up About It. Really, Adaine, it’s not that difficult, I don’t understand why you can’t do it? (Adaine punches her)

Adaine is invited to sit in on a war meeting and has a panic attack when she realises the evil things they’re all up to, embarrassing her parents. They send her on what they think is a futile quest to find the Avatar to regain her Honour. She is accompanied by Arthur Aguefort, another advisor to the Fire Lord but one who is... a problem, to say the least. Two birds with one stone for the Fire Nation!

Kristen is from the Northern Water Tribe and is a pretty powerful waterbender, with a focus on healing. Her parents are super involved in this weird bloodbending cult but she’s pretty sure it’s normal, right??? 

She also has some kind of connection to the Spirit World, which makes her extremely vulnerable to the weird end of days sacrifice Daybreak is doing to try and reopen the spirit world.

Fig lives in the Earth Kingdom in a town that’s been conquered by the Fire Nation and joins some other rebels pretty much as soon as she can walk. She’s sure she’s going to be an earthbender like her mom and kick some serious Fire Nation butt, but then it turns out she can firebend? Gilear’s not her dad? Her mom slept with someone from the Fire Nation??? How could she???

(It’s only when they visit the Fire Nation several shenanigans later and meet Ayda that she’s like.............okay I get it now.)

The Thistlesprings are metalbenders, and live in the same town as the Faeths. They adopted Gorgug from a village that was destroyed in a fire nation attack and aren’t super sure where his parents were from. Gorgug can’t bend, but he’s happy to be just a Guy with an axe helping out Fig and the other rebels.

UNTIL one time in the heat of battle his axe is knocked away from him and there’s a Fire Nation soldier going for an injured Fig and he doesn’t think, just reacts on instinct and his axe flies through the air and knocks the guy tf out. So seems like he is a metalbender after all? Cool!

He’s not super great at it yet, so he sticks with his axe while he’s learning, and mostly uses it to enhance his attacks by bending the axe head to hit a target more accurately. 

Fabian is technically Water Tribe through his dad and Air Nomad through his mom but Bill and Hallerial have spent the past twenty years being a scourge of the seas to all the nations indiscriminately so they might have disowned him. He thinks he’s a non-bender like his dad and gets by with his sword and athletic ability. 

It’s not until later in their adventures, after his dad dies and he has a brutal encounter with some of his ex-crewmates, that he visits one of the Air Nomad temples (which aren’t as destroyed in this au I guess lol) where his grandfather is an airbending monk teacher (for teens, ofc). Telemine teaches him to dance and helps him figure out he can airbend like his mom! 

Like Gorgug, he mostly uses it to enhance his swordfighting ability rather than being a primary bender, but starts using his sheet to glide and do other airbending stuff while fighting!

Riz and Sklonda live in the lower ring of Ba Sing Se, and both of them are earthbenders. Sklonda works for the earthbender guards but on the side she’s trying to work out what’s going on with the Dai Li, which Pok was investigating before he died. (Riz thinks his dad was killed by the Fire Nation.) 

Riz begins investigating the same thing without his mom knowing when his best friend/babysitter Penny Luckstone goes missing, presumed captured by the Fire Nation. His bending is this very precise form where he uses little rocks to go at high speeds like bullets and just fucking obliterate people, since in the middle of a crowded city there aren’t a tonne of places to practise with big rocks. 

The story begins properly when the rebels get word that very important people from the Fire Nation are visiting a nearby town. Fig and Gorgug lie in wait to ambush them and capture them for leverage.

Before they can attack, however, a pirate ship swings into the harbour, led by Bill and Fabian Seacaster, and opens fire. They don’t care about politics, they just want that fancy Fire Nation shit.

The rebels (read: Fig) decide, fuck it, we’ll attack with the pirates, and then the Fire Nation crew waiting on the shore go to fight them and it’s all extremely chaotic. 

Adaine is having a Very Bad Time.  She hasn’t found the Avatar, she’s no better at firebending, Arthur Aguefort is So Much All The Time, and now she’s being attacked by pirates??? Her life sucks. 

Fig, Gorgug and Fabian all end up in a standoff against her in the lower decks of the ship. Because it’s Adaine, she’s not going down without a fight, and she goes to blast the pirate-y looking dude with fire.

Except it’s not fire that comes rushing out. It’s air. 

Oh shit.

She’s the Avatar. 

Whilst she’s panicking about that, the rebel crew and Fabian agree that they need to get her away from the Fire Nation, and take her to Gorgug’s parent’s boat. Arthur Aguefort blows up the Fire Nation ship to let them get away and everyone thinks he died (spoiler: he didn’t)

Cue a series of insane shenanigans as Fig and Gorgug decide to adopt Adaine and take her around the world to learn other types of bending so she can restore balance to the world and kill her piece-of-shit abusive father (the Fire Lord, too, but the Abernants Are A Priority once Adaine warms up enough to them to talk about her parents). 

Fabian helps them escape but doesn’t join them straight away. They keep running into each other in weird places until eventually they’re like do you... just want to come with us?? Fabian: No. (Yes.) 

They save Kristen from this weird sacrifice thing whilst visiting the Northern Water Tribe, and she agrees to teach Adaine waterbending. She also helps her out with the spiritual side of being the Avatar.

Riz becomes Adaine’s earthbending teacher when they meet him in Ba Sing Se and help him figure out what the fuck is up the Dai Li. 

Once the Abernants and the Fire Lord hear what happened, they send Aelwyn after Adaine and the gang to finish what her sister started, not realising she’s the avatar. An epic sister/sister rivalry and eventually redemption on the levels of Azula and Zuko begins.

Stray thoughts

The entire point of this long-ass post was for me to say that Jawbone is Uncle Iroh in this au. He Just Is.

Tracker is a Kyoshi warrior. Kristen still has some weird internalised sexism going on from being raised in this cult and is like, women shouldn't fight!! They’re too soft and pretty!! Tracker helps her learn to let go of that, and then also kisses her and sends her into a gay panic.

Kalina is a bloodbender working with the Dai Li and is DEFINITELY involved in Pok’s death.

The Hangman as a Sky Bison! Boggy as Momo! (Adaine picks him up in the Swamp) 

This au is inherently funny to me bc Aang is a pacificist and struggles so much with whether or not to kill the Fire Lord, but if Adaine was the Avatar she would have absolutely no such qualms. Murder? Sign me up! 

The idea of Adaine, the avatar, with command over all four elements, bridge to the spirit world, still just decking someone when she gets mad is also really fucking funny.

So she learns waterbending from Kristen, earthbending from Riz, airbending from Telemine, and firebending from Ayda. I think she learns firebending properly last - it turns out the reason she struggled with it so much is because her parents taught her it comes from anger and hatred, and she needed to find and learn love before she could use it properly. 

Fabian gets the Zuko eye scar from being attacked by a firebender (Dayne) instead of it getting cut out. 

Gorthalax is a Fire Nation commander who rebelled and fled to the Earth Kingdom where he met Sandralynn. He got recaptured which is why he wasn’t around in Fig’s life, but they eventually find him in prison and set him free.

Gilear is the ‘my cabbages!’ guy, but he sells yoghurt. 

[ampleappleamble]

oh god every spare minute is spent writing or daydreaming about writing or re-reading my own writing, why am i like this, why do i like it

ALSO! thank you all, as always, for your kind words! ao3 soon i prombise <3

Chapter 4: Watcher

Aloth sat alone at a small table in the corner of the tavern, silently counting out rigid increments of time, one after another after another. It had been 26 minutes, 45 seconds since she'd gone upstairs to his room. Their room.

This was a mistake.

"Ye dinnae conne tha' yet, lad."

He scowled into his goblet of wine. "Do not tell me what I do and don't know, rube," he hissed.

He made sure to keep his head down, face lowered behind the pages of his grimoire. Lest this evening's incident repeat itself. Although, he doubted any more trouble now after his and Axa's entrance almost an hour ago.

The foreigner gets frog-marched out of the tavern by three soused churls, only to return scarcely fifteen minutes later with another foreigner, who then proceeds to order two bottles of wine and nothing else...

"I stell whisht ye'd 'ave lemme batter 'em."

Aloth rolled his eyes, lifting his goblet to his mouth. "Your preference has been duly noted," he deadpanned softly as he took a sip.

28 minutes and 50 seconds. They had agreed on 30.

...Maybe. Maybe this was a mistake.

---

She was alone.

She looked around slowly at her new surroundings. Someone else's room at a run-down country inn.

Better than a dirty wooden floor in the common room at a run-down country inn.

Alone. She hadn't really been alone, truly alone alone since--

--the Land, before he--

Axa strolled a bit too quickly across the room, threw herself into a sitting position at the foot of the enormous, lumpy bed. Her hands trembled. She willed them to stop.

Let's think about something else. Right now.

30 minutes. She had 30 minutes alone, and then her new traveling companion would rejoin her. They had managed to get a good rapport going once she had been able to sit and relax a bit in the tavern, and they'd shared their histories with one another, although they had kept it cordially laconic. She was a “disgraced scholar looking for a fresh start,” he was a “wizard from a noble family looking for a patron.” Good enough for me.

He surprised her by proposing they travel together, citing that he found traveling with companions tended to be safer by far, especially in the Dyrwood, and she had already proven herself resourceful and courteous. Axa surprised herself by accepting his proposal.

--another lying, flattering elven man? you foolish--

He had graciously suggested they share his rented room upstairs that night ("Meaning nothing untoward, of course," he'd added hastily, ears reddening) and had agreed to give her some time to herself before settling in for the night. The next morning, they would most likely start seriously planning to make for Defiance Bay, to look for lodging, paying work, and some sort of expert on souls. Camping supplies, food, water-- all would be necessary for the trip, so doing some odd jobs in the village before setting out might not be a bad idea. Earn some coin, get to know the area, the customs.

Tell Calisca's sister about her death.

Axa paused.

She yanked her boots off of her aching feet and hurled them across the room as hard as she could in a flash of rage. The first tears hadn't fallen yet, but they were on their way.

...Ah. This part. Finally.

She rose to her feet unsteadily, pulling at her clothes. She didn’t have time for this crying shit, she had to get undressed, cleaned up, ready for bed. She was shaking too hard to get her belt undone or her scarf untangled, but she struggled with them until they were at least loose enough to pull her tunic up and off.

No. Go on. Let it happen. You need to feel this. You need to process it.

She clutched at her face, trembling harder, digging her fingernails into her flesh. Now the tears fell, hot and relentless, pouring down her burning cheeks.

Hey. You held on as long as you were able. Maintained yourself, your dignity and your sanity. But this was bound to happen eventually. You can let go.

She collapsed to the floor in her stocking feet and linen shift, curling up on her knees and elbows. Agonized wails tore out of her throat; great, heaving sobs that choked her, left her breathless and red-faced.

No one can hear you down there in the tavern, no one is judging you. Only the gods, and they don't count.

You're all alone, Axa.

She felt it.

---

32 minutes, 45 seconds.

Aloth clutched his empty goblet in his hand, knuckles white with tension. They had agreed on 30 minutes.

Maybe just... make it an even 35. Just in case.

"By th' Wheel, lad, quit yer ninnyin' an' gerrup them stairs. Am shattered."

The elf fidgeted in his seat, lowering his gaze to his lap. "I will, I will. I just... I'm not quite ready yet." He had been stalling, and he knew it.

"An' fer why I should haftae wait fer mah kip? 'Cos yer afeart o' th' wee lass?"

He gritted his teeth, grateful that only his half of the conversation was being spoken aloud this time. "I am not afraid of her," he whispered, slowly turning a page in his grimoire. 33 minutes, 50 seconds. "I just want to make absolutely certain that when I go up there, I'll have given her ample time to finish up any... personal rituals she might have wanted to attend to in solitude. It's common courtesy. Not that you'd know anything about that." He allowed himself a little smile at that, preparing to start to carefully and deliberately ease his grimoire closed. 34 minutes, 5 seconds. He could hold out for 35 even. Easily. He rose smoothly from the table, gliding out of his seat with practiced grace.

A harsh, braying cackle of a laugh. "If'n I conne ye true, lad, yer jes' sayin' yer afeart ye'll burst in oan 'er wi' 'er baps oot if'n ye're up too soon, aye?"

Aloth's fingers spasmed, and his heavy grimoire slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a resounding thump that echoed in the half-empty tavern.

Every single remaining patron was looking at him.

He'd lost track of the time.

---

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh no.

Axa kneeled on the bed, brushing the red hot embers from the thick woolen blankets with her bare hands. She had somehow spilled her pipe while lighting it, and now it seemed she had this situation to deal with.

How had it come to this? She tried to remember. She'd had her cry. She'd laid on the floor for... a bit. She'd gotten up and washed her face and hands. She'd had her drink. Well, her second drink. The first one had been downstairs, with that elf. The weird one. Aloth. That was his name. She liked him. ...No! She'd tied up her hair. Then the second drink, the one she had up here, then the third, then probably one or two more. She couldn't really remember. But anyway. Once she'd had her drinks, it was time for her smoke, and--

...Smoke. The pipe? The blanket-- SMOKE!!!!

Axa discovered, to her dismay, that brushing the exact same spot on the blankets over and over while reminiscing about the events of the past half hour did not solve her problem in its entirety. The other clumps of smouldering whiteleaf strewn across the bed were quickly leaving hideous scars all over the already badly abused blankets, and she rushed to slap them out, wishing that she had tied back all of her hair and not just half of it for some reason.

Once she was sure she had gotten it all, she packed her pipe again-- carefully this time-- and stood in the middle of the room, smoking and assessing the damage.

Honestly... he might not even notice.

There was a knock at the door. She pretended not to hear it, smiling blithely at the rug.

"Axa? Forgive my tardiness, the time got away from me and-- and I, uh--"

Aloth swung the door open slowly and gently. He was met with a view of the little orlan woman standing in the middle of his room in her chemise, clearly drunk, clutching a lit pipe and regarding the brand new, still-smoking holes in the blanket on his bed.

She looked at the blanket, looked at him, eyes wide and bloodshot-- and exhaled a plume of smoke directly into Aloth's face.

He blinked rapidly.

"...Fit like, lass?"

---

He arranged some blankets and cushions for himself on the floor, even though she practically begged him to at least take the bed by way of a proper apology. He insisted, and she acquiesced, although not before expressly forbidding him from using the blanket she'd burned.

He lied when she asked if he minded her smoking, and she could tell he was lying, but she smoked until her pipe was burnt out anyway. It had been a hard night, and something told her sleep would not come easily.

"You always talk shit to people like that?" she asked, peering at his prone figure in the dark room. "In Hylspeak, I mean."

Aloth sighed, fidgeted in his bedding. "It's an old habit. From childhood."

"I see." Axa yawned and stretched, and he could hear her joints popping. "You might try to knock that on the head, friend. Or at least learn to insult yokels in a language they don't sort of understand."

He couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Excellent suggestion. Any recommendations? I hear Rauataian is popular these days."

She grinned to herself in the dark. Still can't get a straight answer out of you about all that, eh? Good thing I'm too addled to care right now. "I could teach you Ixamitl. Little bit of Vailian."

"As long as you're a willing teacher, I'm a willing student."

"As long as we steer clear of Ordhjóma, I'm a willing teacher." Gods, she was drunk, telling him that.

He wanted to ask, but knew better. "Fair enough."

The pair fell silent, and they fell asleep.

---

Axa had expected a difficult night ahead of her. After all, she'd had a difficult day.

Exhaustion, wine, and whiteleaf put her body and waking mind to sleep easily enough, as they tended to do. But her subconscious mind was restless and turbulent, thoughts and memories and half-dreams all swirling together in a maelstrom of emotion, fear foremost among them.

Whispers. Shadows.

It was all... familiar, somehow. The more she looked, the more she saw, and the more she saw, the more she remembered.

The pillars. The machine.

Had she... been here before?

No. That wasn't possible. She'd only ever been to Ixamitl and the Land before this. She had never been to the Dyrwood, never--

--from Creitum, my dear?--

Axa thrashed violently in her bed. Sweat matted her fine, golden-bronze fur and her breath came in shuddering gasps. Her eyes snapped open--

--and she was standing in front of that tree again, the one in the middle of town. The corpse tree.

The corpses were all wrong. She knew for a fact that the blond fellow who'd smiled at her as she'd started off toward the inn earlier that day hadn't been hanging from it last she looked. But he was hanging there now, still smiling his lopsided smile, still clutching his pipe.

"Welcome to our lovely town." He said it, but he didn't. She didn't hear his voice, and his face didn't move. But she heard him, in her mind, somehow.

Is-- is this what ciphers-- oh, Wael's eyes, am I a cipher now or something?

Axa had no time to dwell on the thought as the monstrous tree slowly began to move, twisting around and down toward her, brilliant violet flames flickering to life all over its gore-caked branches. It loomed above her, below her, all around her, blocking out all light except for the sickly purple glow of the souls hanging from it like overripe fruit.

And front and center, mere feet from Axa's own face, hung the dwarf woman. The animancer that horrible magistrate had so crassly introduced as "an example of what happens to those who lie to our Lord."

Axa could only stare in abject terror as the woman's corpse noticed her.

It lifted its head, wrinkled and deflated like a gourd gone rotten, and stretched out its swollen, distended neck, pushing its maggot-ridden face to within inches of Axa's own. The head tilted to one side and blinked its empty eye sockets, and if she hadn't been on the very bleeding edge of a complete nervous breakdown, Axa might have noticed it smile gently.

The corpse's mouth opened wide before Axa's quivering eyes, blasting her with a wave of rotting stench that threatened to overwhelm the little woman entirely. She didn't know how much more of this she could bear, but at the same time, she couldn't look away. This was, she somehow instinctively knew, far too important a message to look away from.

The dwarf's corpse, like the blond man's, spoke directly to Axa's mind. But it spoke aloud at the same time, evidently to ensure that her message made it through any and all defenses the orlan woman could offer up, whether mental or physical. The corpse's rancid breath, its voice like a dull blade drawn across a gravestone, her essence, all issued forth to assault and cradle and engulf Axa, all focused on the conveyance of one word:

"WATCHER."

---

Her eyes snapped open for real, this time.

A multitude of glowing purple figures stood over her, watching her as she lay in her bed.

She screamed, a shrill, panicked howl of pure terror. She flailed desperately to escape, and ended up landing painfully on the floor face-first before scrabbling madly for the corner.

Aloth was up in an instant, groping for his grimoire, clambering to his feet in a panic. "What's-- Axa?" The elf stumbled toward the cowering woman in the muddled pre-dawn light, reaching toward her with an open hand. "Axa? Are you alright? What's going on, did--"

She shrieked, throwing her arms up in front of her, shielding herself from him, from them, pushing herself against the wall with her trembling legs. "DON'T!! DON'T TOUCH ME!!"

Aloth did not. Instead, he froze-- then very slowly drew back, clutching his grimoire in front of his chest with both hands, trying to ignore the little woman as she shook and sobbed, face hidden in her hands.

I... shouldn't be seeing this. This isn’t right. I shouldn't be here. This is something private, and I'm intruding, and... He sighed, lowering his gaze to the floor, his ears drooping.

...This was a mistake. I should... I should tell her I can't--

"I want to go to that tree again."

Aloth snapped his attention back to Axa. She was still in the corner, sitting with her knees drawn to her chest, but her face peered out from beneath her curtain of crimson hair.

The apparitions were gone. "I want to see her. The dwarf in the tree. I have to see her."

Her amethyst eyes fixed themselves on his.

"Will you go with me?" Tears trembled on her eyelashes, but her voice was steady and strong.

"...Certainly," he replied softly.

---

[7wanderingpaws]

Simply, yours.

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: non-idol AU, hapkido teacher AU

Word count: 2.8K

Short description: You and Baekhyun are young sweethearts coming from the far countryside. You don't have much money when you move to Seoul but what you have is unlimited amount of love for each other. You both want a family. But falling pregnant as a young woman with little money was not what you planned for. Neither of you.

a/n: Completely unplanned, but found myself enjoying the plotting as I got deeper into it. It's been a heck of a while since I last wrote, sorry if it isn't the best, but I can promise a ride if you give me support!! 💟🤗

Prologue

Living a simple life wasn't that type of a simple life you saw on YouTube, produced with pretty looking human beings that had all it takes to lead a well-off life. Pretty looking faces, or sometimes not shown, were exchanged to the simplicity of the overpriced items purchased through companies who lived off well of few purchases of their customers.

In general, a Korean citizen would watch at least one  “simple life” tagged video on social media and then share it on KakaoTalk mostly to their female friends.

Going to coffee shops? Oh, let me show you the tea.

Going to overpriced coffee shops (doesn't matter how fancy or not), still proved how it was going against the entire idea of a simplistic life that these people so proudly exclaimed they were living.

Unfortunately, you could see the harsh difference. No, you could feel it. Coming from a village, a countryside, made you feel how different you can be in a massive city, and not in a pleasant way. Be it the clothing style, the skin colour, the wildness in the eyes, the accent, the shape of your mouth, the shape of your feet… It could be spotted in the slightest of ways possible, and for sure a city person at heart would notice right away.

Thankfully, the small apartment in the middle of Seoul, just close enough to Konkik University would suffice. You and Baekhyun were still very young. While he was pursuing his PhD in sports management, coming from solid hapkido background, you couldn't continue with your studies and just joined full-time working attire in a law company. Being an assistant wasn't something you dreamed of doing, however you never belonged to people that required a lot in order to be happy.

This way you could manage to survive from month to month, Baekhyun teaching hapkido classes for kids as well as university students, preparing to become a hapkido professor, which would enable you to buy more expensive food, or new clothes from time to time.

Receiving a scholarship from Sungkyungwan University was something you always knew he would get, but he himself didn't believe in himself enough to think that, as much as it is hard to believe, judging from his cheeky personality that you knew so well.

You were extremely happy for him, of course. You both grew up on the countryside, both of you coming from humble backgrounds, and knowing him since high school, you always thought he would be the one who makes it far. 

And he did.

No matter what the problem was, he solved it. He was, what the city ladies called, a “real man”. Be it plumbing, broken heel on your shoe, cutting wood… He knew how to mend it all, how to put it together.

He knew how to love you. Be it passionate, gentle, rough, sensitive, soft, quiet, loud… He could give it all, to you. Without him, the air wasn't as breathable, the food as tasty, the smile as contagious, the human touch as warm, and the light as light.

He could do many things. In a simple world. Where you both came from. You were not the perfect woman from the magazines, yet he was next to you. Fitting into you. Giving you his all. For years. He was Baekhyun.

He could make you feel the earth shake, the water crash on the rocks, the clouds swimming on a baby-blue sky, the hot desert sunset, the avalanche.

And, he did.

And that was your love. In a simple world.

.1.

Waking up to a dark room, you felt slight sweat forming around your neck, the air being too hot under the stuffy blankets and a hot body behind you. The fan was turned on, despite the Koreans being scared of it, as it may kill, but screw it. Villagers were fighting for survival, not for comfort and clean conscience.

Carefully untangling from Baekhyun's body, you quietly slipped out of the bed, your nightgown falling around your thighs that were slightly hurting from the upcoming period. As much as you wished to lie in bed and enjoy Baekhyun's presence, you wanted to make fresh breakfast to start off both of your days well.

Baekhyun grumbled in his sleep, blindly searching with his hand for your warmth, but fruitlessly. Eventually, he always ended up moving his body on your side of the bed, finding your gentle smell so calming, it would lull him back to sleep.

Smiling to yourself, you closed the door behind you, appearing in the kitchen that was combined with a very small living room. They were all in one room, basically. Thankfully, you could do some nice changes to the flat in a cheap manner and you didn't mind tightening your belt for a few weeks. You could walk to many places as well, Seoul transportation was pricey anyway.

Starting with the vegetables, you moved swiftly around the little kitchen, preparing the breakfast into cute bowls that you made yourself when you were attending pottery class during your high school years.

It might sound like it had been a long time, but you graduated from high school only a four years ago. You spent your first year at home, working at your parents farm, helping out Baekhyun's parents, and searching for a good enough job until you received the amazing news about Baekhyun's scholarship at Sungkyungkwan and in your second year after finishing high school, you were in Seoul, living in a tiny flat but a flat that was full of love.

Coffee was done just when you felt a sleepy presence behind you that soon made itself known by giving your exposed neck a gentle, loving kiss. “Good morning.”

His raspy voice and hot breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine. You turned quickly, broad smile on, throwing your arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the lips. “My man, morning.”

Baekhyun chuckled, endearing look on his face as he circled his hands around your waist. His forehead pressed to yours. “I am looking forward to the class today.”

You sighed, satisfied. “I am happy to hear that. You love those kids, I don't know how you do it.”

“They are playful, like my jokes, like to mess.”

You snorted a laugh, opening your eyes. “Well, I also like to do those things and yet…” you trailed off, playing the victim.

“Yet what?” he exclaimed, shocked.

“Yet you don't come and play.”

Baekhyun honestly laughed out loud at your sour face expression.

“After everything I do for you,” you added, sighing heavily, eyeing all the food in plates, neatly placed, probably qualified for a food decorating competition.

“Wah! Hold on, hold on, young lady,” he said, grabbing you tighter, bringing you closer. “What is this supposed to mean?” he asked quietly, staring into your eyes. “Why is my lady not happy?”

Pursing your lips, you pretended to think hard. “Well, I do have a hard time at work, sitting, running around my boss,” Baekhyun rolled his eyes at the mention of your boss, “running errands, yet none of them are for me. A massage and a little pampering wouldn't be bad.”

Baekhyun knew you were teasing him big time.

He knew you in a different way than what you were showing most of the time. You were an extremely tough woman, heart of steel but gentle, soft and completely crazy only for him. He knew it so well. You would never be able to fool him with "this is too hard for me" kind of attitude; you qualified for a man. Thank God he knew hapkido, how else would he protect himself?!

“Exactly, my dear. Those kids don't want pampering from me, don't want massages from me. They want to genuinely play,” he said, whispering the last sentence.

“Then, I want to play, too. Genuinely.”

He kissed you slowly but oh, so sensually right then and there.

You did have a point. Both of you have been stuck in a weird stereotype, running and coming from work, eating, having a cozy evening if you managed to get home on time. Otherwise your boyfriend would be swamped with books, researches, cramming English last minute since his final research had to be written in English (screw village high schools for not giving proper attention to English language and screw Baekhyun for not giving a shit in undergrad and grad school about English classes and missing chances to bond with international students) and you would try to get better at your work by reading various business books from the library or watch some videos about how to become more self-confident and sell yourself.

Gosh, what a competitive world you lived in. It was the exact opposite to the village life where kimchi make-out sessions were a must in autumn, cherry blossom tree picnics with freshly made kimbap a tradition, wild-lake swimming and love-making under the moonlight… The world where only things like those mattered. To have a loved one by your side and deal with difficulties together.

After a full make-out session, you separated, both of you panting for air, both of you panting for much more than what time was allowing you in that moment. “Like this?” he breathed, his focus on your swollen lips that you were now biting.

You giggled quietly and untangled yourself from him to grab his mug from the counter. “Not quite.” Handing him his coffee, you smiled. “I'm sure when the evening comes, you will know what I meant.”

He chuckled. “You should have just told me right away that you want to have sex.”

Your eyes widened at the use of words, not liking to call it like that.

He laughed even more at your expression, taking the bowl with rice in his free hand and sitting down on the floor to the small table. “Always so innocent, my love.”

Tinted red cheeks puffed up, not meeting his eyes, that was your hidden self only he witnessed. How long have you been together? Was it five years? Six? God, you were only 23 now. Baekhyun 27. You only had him. He was your first, and you always wanted him to be your last.

After fast but playful breakfast, you both rushed to get ready, Baekhyun packing his hapkido uniform, you quickly ironing your skirt on the mattress you slept on.

“I have to rush, I am late,” shouted Baekhyun as he was ready to open the door, dressed in his sports clothes, his backpack thrown over one shoulder. “Will you be alright, darling?”

“Sure, sure,” you said loudly, so he could hear you. “Be careful, please! No rush! And drink your water!”

You heard him laugh quietly before shouting one big “I love you” and closing the door behind him.

Taking quickly your lunch, you also rushed to catch the bus. It was crazily crowded and you always ended up groaning inwardly at the sight of queued up people. You rushed only to rush more. Amazing.

Seoul, you pleaded, you better be worth it.

^^

Arriving at your work place, you managed to sit down at your desk just as the clock stroke 9.00am. Perfect. Next time it could be at least 10 minutes earlier, so you could get some time to relax and start your day slowly.

Your colleague, Sukyeong, was handing you your herbal tea you always had in the first hour of the work time. “Even when you are late you still manage to be on time.”

You chuckled, thanking her as you warmed your hands with the hot cup. “I don't like this type of preciseness.”

“God, just like Jongdae,” she snorted, sitting back down on her chair.

Snickering, you commented: “I thought that's why you married him?”

“I adore him,” she exclaimed, laughing quietly. “A perfectionist. Maybe a bit too much.”

You really liked Sukyeong, and thought it was about time to call her a real friend in the big world that was called Seoul. You both already managed to go out together, you getting some proper time with a girlfriend, Baekhyun getting his alone time at home. And the other time you managed to go out together with Baekhyun and Jongdae at the same time and it was even more surprising to find out Jongdae and Baekhyun became good friends.

You were about to reply when the boss's door opened, surprising you momentarily, causing you to spill the scorching tea straight on your skirt. You kept in your hiss, pressing your lips together as you raised to bow to him.

“Good morning, sir.”

Your boss was a not the tallest man, smaller than Baekhyun, but definitely much older and, well, fatter. Even now, his white shirt could barely hold the buttons together, obviously having another jjajangmyeon night with soju yesterday.

“Miss Y/L/N, could you please come to my office?” he asked, his eyes dropping on the wet spot of the herbal tea, just around the middle of the skirt. It was sticking to your thigh.

You bowed your head, wordlessly following. As he turned his back on you, you quickly shot Sukyeong a questioning look, to which she shrugged, not understanding what could his weird mood be about.

The doors behind you closed, and your boss took his seat behind his messy desk. He motioned with his hand for you to do the same, and you did. The couch was a bit too low, causing your knees to be high up, your skirt hiking up. Nonchalantly, you tried to push the silly skirt down before your boss spoke.

“Kang Bina was fired yesterday,” he started without a foreword.

This was surprising. “Really? How come? She was doing so well.”

Your boss snickered, disgusted. “She got pregnant. Why would I keep her?”

Your throat went dry for a second as you processed his words. Your heartbeat went up. “Excuse me, sir, but how-”

“We do not employ you, young ladies, fresh out of university, just for you to get pregnant and then leave your company short on staff. It is ineffective, we don't need such useless workforce.”

Useless workforce? A pregnant woman? Excuse me?

You were barely two minutes in his office and you felt like a bottle of icy cold water was thrown at you.

Before you could speak, he broke the tensed silence. “That is why I called you in, deary.” Pause. Shudder. Deary. “I am pleased to inform you, that you earned yourself a promotion! Your first. Since you started working here,” he added, obviously proud of himself. Then, he smiled grimly at you. “Actually, it is your very first promotion, since you are so young, so beautiful and so inexperienced.” He made himself comfortable in the big office chair, it squeaking from heavy load. “You will take Bina's spot.”

You were just speechless. Bina had a higher position, being a personal assistant to this piece of a fat human flesh sitting in front of you. He even picked her up every morning and drove her home. A “privilege”, he called it at that time.

“You don't have a boyfriend yet, correct?” he asked, more himself than you. You shook your head no. It went unnoticed. “Well, anyhow, you better not get pregnant in the upcoming...hmm...10 years? Nah, make it 20. Looking at you, your qualities would get only better, so you won't miss out. And I can't have such a beautiful employee leave so early.”

“Sir, about this-”

“It is a privilege,” he emphasized, looking directly at you. “Plus, let's not forget the salary raise.”

You shut your mouth.

Money raise.

More money.

You could help Baekhyun out more.

Your stupid salary that couldn't even cover properly the food for one month would now be just enough. If you calculated properly (you did most of the time), you could afford a small trip to spas, a KTX ride back home to the countryside, some new electronics for the apartment. You could apply for mortgage and make a dream home.

It is true it was already a dream home. With Baekhyun anything was ideal.

But becoming pregnant with his child? Making a family like you always wanted? The idea caught you off guard, not like you haven't fantasized about it for years. It was an idea that sent you into immediate shivers, electric shocks running through your veins, it made you want him much more, it made you want him to make love to you right in that instant. You went crazy just at the pure thought of bearing his child. Your secret dream of being a mother. As simple as that.

No massive house, no position of high importance. Just a home full of children's laughter and your husband's love. Baekhyun's love.

“You don't really have a choice, Y/N, but I still have to ask - do you accept?” Your boss raised his left eyebrow at you, challenging.

No pregnancy. For now.

Your unsaid dream broke, but you believed you could build up on it later; prepare a solid financial base for your children in the far future.

You nodded, making your boss laugh.

_____

a/n: If you could leave a comment, I would be grateful And maybe upload much faster the next part. That is if you think this story and me are worth it! 💟

[ishkah]

Early Beginnings...

My 22 year old self spinning 15 year old diary entries into something or other…

One of my earliest memories is sitting by a river bend after school just sitting and thinking, being, remembering family togetherness building dams on the river, playing poo sticks. I wanted that deeply, I was aware I couldn’t be seen directly, playing with the other kids, but I also liked the idea that the adults would have to take time and think to know where I was.

With this came an identity, I heard a pride in my mum’s voice when she told the other mums where she found me, a deep nature boy that one.

I knew she would because whenever there was bedlam at home I would always take myself off outside. I knew how important it was that I didn’t see her cry because I saw it once, or get upset or argue but more than anything, she didn’t want me involved in the drama; to become something I didn’t understand.

My brother was a resistance fighter, in the trenches telling both parents what they were doing wrong, living the trauma, with two sunburn creased lines between his eyebrows to prove it.

I was a dreamer I liked this new state of being, I distrusted and held onto my words because I saw them used by other people like daggers or simply to pull on heartstrings. I must have thought a lot about how words are only used to hurt each other and get one over each other because by the time I was in secondary school I’d been given another personality story to hold onto.

I was like my great granddad I told people, he was a quite honorable man, would say hardly a word, but he always knew when something was at odds, so when he did speak his words had a profound impact on people. I became the listener and solver.

I thought about how small I was in this incomprehensible beautiful universe that I read in stories, I didn’t try much to understand it just admire it. I wanted to mimic its uniqueness, I wanted to be compassionate. I probably started labelling a lot of things, good and bad, normal and extraordinary. I went vegan with this people gave me the identity pacifist.

It wasn’t till the army came to school that I had a chance to practice what I’d learnt. Reading back over my diary at the time I felt a huge responsibility to my friends that they wouldn’t go off and get killed for no good reason. I’ve tried to stay as real to the 15 year old kid who’s newly forming ideas were shaped through the experience of what follows.

I spread my ideas militantly, if they were going to advertise the killing of innocents in my school, me and my young cronies were going to disrupt it. I wrote up a petition, confronted every kid in school with this reality. I made a ruckus because I was doing something radical that had never been tried before in the school’s history.

I must have got three quarters of the whole school to sign my little clipboard chart, not least because of the rumours that were spread, some of the kids straight out of primary learning about conscription in history class cued up to sign it, expressing a tangible fear.

My betrayal came suddenly, the teacher who invited the army to school flipped out at me, saying I was trying to limit other student’s access to knowledge about the army. I walked away furious, even more committed to stopping them, I schemed with friends how we could lock doors and sit on stage. I thought how an institution committed to educating, expanding minds could let someone go off and kill others halfway across the world.

I stubbornly asked all the head of staff each day when the army would be coming to school, all of them told me it hadn’t been scheduled but they’d tell me when they knew, not for a while…

When I walked into the school the next day to find everyone at assembly with teachers keeping a close eye on their forms in rows, I was pissed. I walked in from one side of the hall and surveyed the scene with contemptuous hilarity, down the hall, past the class sitting quietly transfixed on me, ignoring my form teacher’s calls to come sit down, and out the other end.

I sat outside with 4 girls fuming, a teacher came round to ask us back in, I glared back but 3 of us slinked back in. So this was the great resistance effort the 2 of us crumpled down to the floor.

We started talking about how depressing it all was, how powerless the teachers had made everyone feel, people had been scratching their name off the petition for fear of getting punished. We hated everything that was in that room and we threw in a few choice words of our conversation into the hall.

BULLSHIT!

The teachers guarding the doors peered through the curtains at us, they were afraid of us! Aha so they should be! Our beings and ideas were powerful!

The talk ended, the army officer came out and I felt an anger welling up in me, but I had nothing to say to him, the head of department came next, I had a maths lesson with him next but he’d lied to me only yesterday, I had no interest in hearing what he had to teach me. He encouraged me to move, saying it’s finished now, I laughed a laugh that came from the pit of my being, it was just the opposite of how I was feeling, a dramatic change in my being, nothing had come and gone, only feelings inside of me had grown a 1000 fold.

He threatened me with truancy, I learned the best way to get on an adult’s nerves was never to rise to them, never give them any ammunition. I just looked at him. None of the politics needed words, we weren’t going to get one over on each other, we were simply diametrically opposed and I wished the opposite of wanting to be understood by him by engaging him in conversation. I just watched him walk away.

The rest of the day I sat exactly where I was and made paper cranes for peace and talked to anyone and everyone. I was committed to public resistance. Resistance is emotional, beautiful even and I’d crossed a treasonous line with characteristic style. Action would from now and forever be how I wrote my story.

The next few weeks I was in and out of full-time detention where I wasn’t even allowed to go to class, I had to be watched carefully to curb my disruptive ways.

I raged against the teachers that had lied to me, but when I was in detention I got my first whiff of privilege, the kids I was in with admired my rage but with a sense of novelty.

I thought they’d understand more than anyone why I was fighting them, but they didn’t, they believed in the system more than anyone, they just got angry sometimes and needed to lash out and so were seen as unpredictable.

For most of them a care worker or teacher were the only people that would believe in them, show them the rails. I knew where the rails were but I wanted to derail them and set a new course.

But I began to hate the idea that I could afford to step off and be an example only to later intelligently articulate a political reason to excuse myself.

Even more entitled than that I had a co-conspirator mother who used her knowledge of childcare regulations to stop me from being expelled and afford me an easier sentence than my new friends who earned their detention by setting off alarms by setting fire to bits of paper and smoking in toilets

I came out of school feeling a strong sense of purpose, that words weren’t necessary in finding my-self, which validated my search for a spiritual interconnectedness based on compassion. Also the people telling you what you should or shouldn’t do can be the worst amoral shits on the planet.

I grew up as an outsider, the scouser transplanted into a tiny village in a valley in Wales. This moment was the activation of an identity I only knew through the biker friends of my mum and the stories they would tell together that I looked up to. An identity known only to myself that no one could take away from me, and I felt my internal world growing stronger, I felt a sense of purpose, the more active I felt fighting oppression, the more alive I felt. Now I have the privilege of being able to jump into so many struggles without getting burnt out or losing face.

My only limits are when I am being asked to conform to a situation I don’t agree with, in this way I need to stay spontaneous, my inner strength comes from the efficiency by which I can throw myself into a struggle and make gains, I am learning now to transform that into a circular routine of building my bases.

My outer self is a culmination of novelty stories of struggling through hardship and pushing through in pursuit of truth and finding pockets of hope. I need people around me to be open, allow me to tell my story slowly and not restrict my image to something that suits them.

When I’m on the road I’m still that little kid who disassociates, but the game of living with strangers allows me to feel creative. I feel like I need to make connections more strongly; because mutual aid is so important, the entire journey is dependent on other people. When I look at my life I see the journey, my life is about the means by which we make change not the end.

[laceymorganwrites]

The Genius idiot

Word Count: 2,138

Pairing: Senku x reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: So guess who watched Dr Stone and is utterly in love with Senku?

You didn´t like high school. At all. It was shit, the people thought you were weird and they were right, but being weird wasn´t a bad thing like they said it was. The teachers were all total nutjobs in midlife crises who didn´t have their shit together and took it out on you instead of teaching. And for fuck´s sake was the stuff they taught you boring.

The only good thing about the institution were the things you could out of the lessons, you were in the computer programming club for instance, you also were a member of the crafts club.

That´s where you met Yuzuriha, she was kind and sweet, quickly warming up to you.

You liked to think that you were friends, but when you saw her with her real friends Taiju and Senku, you knew you´d never belong anywhere like they did.

They were always hanging around and having fun, doing some science stuff you didn´t get.

It was none of your business anyway.

But still you were sad that you weren´t part of their friend group, they seemed to be so close and you wanted to be too. You never really bothered much with making friends, creating strong bonds with people in a relationship was something you never quite understood.

People were selfish, they only wanted others around them to make themselves feel better, to stop the cold loneliness that was creeping inside their hearts, to stop them from thinking about things they didn´t want to think about, about truths that couldn´t be denied.

Life wasn´t give and take. It was take all you can get and run as fast as you can.

Like there would be no consequences.

Surely enough though, you felt yourself become intrigued by the friend group, letting Yuzuriha introduce you to them.

You didn´t mind it as much as you thought you would, quite the opposite truly.

It was as if you finally found the true meaning of life, the source of genuine happiness and you finally understood why people glorified high school so much.

You never intended for people to get so close to you, never expected to have friends you could tell anything and feel save with.

And you sure as hell didn´t anticipate to fall in love with Senku.

You guessed it was the take of life after giving you friends.

It was like a sick joke, a sort of cruel humor Senku would appreciate if it didn´t involve him.

He was too busy to notice you anyway. Maybe it was better this way, but your mind couldn´t help but wander to him in the most irritating times.

Why did he have to be so cunning, charming, funny and have the same interests as you? And why did he have to be so devilishly handsome? And why did you have to fall for the person who made you feel so incredibly stupid all the time?

The only person who knew was Taiju and that was only because he too told you about his crush on Yuzuriha, even before Senku. He thought you could help him since you knew her.

It was nice having someone to talk about this embarrassing inconvenience without being judged or criticized. But that didn´t help the situation, so you two made a bet.

It was a win-win situation: it was a race who would confess first. And if things went good, the loser had to finance the first date. If it went bad however the loser had to make up a scheme that the confession was a lie and another bet.

You really tried to confess your feelings to Senku, on multiple occasions too. But he never seemed to get it, or rather you thought he did get it but simply wanted to avoid the topic to be able to concentrate more on his science experiments.

If you only knew how different the reality looked…

Senku might give the impression of complete disinterest in all things romantic, but really he was just scared of making a fool of himself, of being vulnerable, getting hurt, so he shut love out of his life.

Until he laid eyes on you that is.

And fuck did you turn his world upside down, he told no one, not even Taiju.

He was too embarrassed, after all those years of swearing never to bother in having a crush or something more, he didn´t want to admit defeat.

And when Senku thought you were giving him hints that his feelings were reciprocated by you, he suppressed every possibility of you getting together. Because that would mean he would have to initiate something, which he couldn´t do for the life of him even if he wanted to.

That was the downside of completely refusing gathering any knowledge on romance, love and honestly, just being a decent human being.

If it wasn´t science, he wasn´t interested in it.

To him, you were the embodiment of science and that was what scared him.

It especially scared him after the stone broke around his body.

He felt helpless and useless, trying to figure out how to get you back all those months.

3,700 years passed, it felt so unreal, like a number too big to count, all those years wasted.

You remembered waking up to a bunch of new faces alongside familiar ones.

The scenery was different. Very different.

“Where´s the school?” you asked, looking around and meeting Senku´s eyes looking at you with wonder, relief and another feeling you couldn´t quite identify. For an instance you thought it was the way you looked at him, but that couldn´t be.

It took a while to get used to the new circumstances, but with the quick explanation of the new faces and situation of the earth, you at least had some starting point.

Kohaku, a warrior from the village that Senku´s father built, which was still weird to you, led you to said village.

It was nice, people were running around happily and working one some science stuff.

For a world that was completely set back to year one, this fast progress wasn´t bad at all.

“You did all of this?” you asked Senku in awe, it was hard for you to hide your feelings around him after not seeing him for so long, even though it felt like yesterday. But then again, it would always feel that way with him.

He stopped in his tracks, somehow embarrassed by your praise and looked sideways.

“I could´ve never made it on my own though...” he admitted, it wasn´t like him, the Senku you knew would boast the shit about his success.

“You´re amazing, Senku! Bringing all those people together like that, building all of this… nobody could do it like you” you smiled at him and he swore his heart stopped for a second.

To avoid giving into you, he showed you around and introduced you to everyone.

They were all so nice and bright, so energetic, it was refreshing to be welcomed with such open, warm arms.

They explained their next big project and you immediately were woven into the daily routine. But you liked it that way, how else would you get used to this drastic change?

Senku was even more distant than before, but that was okay, he had much to do.

Well, it wasn´t really okay to you, but what did you expect from him? To confess feelings that weren´t there to you in such an important situation? It was vital to win the war to have the cellphone. You simply weren´t part of the plan. You never have been.

This revelation made you feel sad and lonely, especially since the whole village never seemed to shut up about Senku.

The priestess in particular sought you out to make you tell her all about him, that´s how you found yourself gushing about him to her and she gushed right back, making you like her and be jealous of her at the same time.

“You like him quite the bit, do you not?” she chuckled and you gulped before nodding.

“But don´t tell him, I don´t want to make things awkward. We have more important things to worry about right now” you sighed.

The priestess looked at you with an amused expression before chuckling mischievously.

“But he likes you too, I can tell, he´s different around you. There are no rules in love, I think that´s what makes him scared and unsure, he keeps talking about the rules, how if you follow them you will always get the right solution. I think he´s scared that there is no solution in approaching you.” she thought out loud.

“Don´t give me false hopes, he doesn´t have time to be in love nor is he interested in it” you groaned, it hurt to say it out loud.

Not wanting to dive deeper into the matter, you went back to the village where the others were.

You noticed Senku sitting away from the fire, closed off to himself, deep in thought.

Despite your better knowledge, you grabbed a blanket , walking up to him, thinking about how you shouldn´t all the way.

But now it was too late and you were awkwardly standing two feet away from him, stretching out the blanket.

“What are you doing?” he stated, eyeing you and the blanket.

His cold attitude made your heart sink, this was a stupid idea after all.

“I thought you might be cold” you quietly said, sinking the blanket and your gaze.

“And why do you care?” he mumbled, you were interrupting him sulking about how he couldn´t seem to approach you right.

“I don´t want you to be cold” you said bluntly, pondering about when the right moment to leave would be.

“But wouldn´t you be cold if you gave me the blanket?” Senku questioned, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, but I don´t care, I can just sit nearer to the fire. I´ll be fine as long as I know you are” you answered truthfully, cursing yourself for saying too much.

“That´s illogical” he told you, making you groan.

“I know, Senku. That´s the whole point” you never heard of anyone that love was logical.

“I mean we could always share the blanket” Senku smirked, looking you straight in the eyes like a smug bastard. That wasn´t like him at all, but he regretted his bold words as soon as they left his mouth. This could only backfire.

“You...want to share a blanket...with me?” you repeated the question like an idiot.

“We are both cold, it is the only logical solution” Oh. What else did you expect? Your heart sunk to your knees and you let your shoulders drop.

“I think I´ll go back to the others” you numbly said, throwing the blanket next to him.

Why did you even try? There was a reason he was avoiding you after all.

“(Y/N), wait! I really want to share a blanket with you, but… it´s not because I´m cold” he rambled, blushing a bit at his own awkwardness. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn´t he be smooth in those things?

You stopped in your tracks, looking at him in disbelief.

“This isn´t funny, Senku” you coldly told him, thinking he was only fucking with you.

“I know. It´s really not. It´s also not logical, at all. Nothing makes sense to me when you´re around but also everything does? If that makes sense...and I can´t concentrate and I don´t know how to feel about that but I know how I feel and… I´m an idiot” he fiddled with his fingers, wanting to take back every word he just said. You would just laugh at him. There was a reason why nobody liked him that way.

“It makes perfect sense, Senku. Because I´m an idiot too and I feel the same” you smiled at him clumsily.

Senku stood up abruptly, his eyes wide and shining with a ray of hope.

“(Y/N). Can I do the only thing that seems logical to me right now?” he said urgently.

You nodded subconsciously and before you could think about what he meant, his lips were on yours.

The suddenness of the kiss took your breath away for a minute, yet you adjusted quickly. It was like a mechanism which only worked when you two were together. You couldn´t help yourself but smile into the kiss as it commenced, you couldn´t believe this was happening. Senku´s hands were shaking as he put them on your waist, pulling you closer to him, making your heart jump.

It could´ve been a magical moment if it wasn´t for your stupid grin because you couldn´t help yourself and Senku´s clumsiness because how the fuck should he know how to kiss?

But none of that mattered, you´d figure it out together.