#[ i also need to finish two other commissions today-- but i need a little mental break. today and this week have been a lot for the mind. ]

[iniziare]

Fine, consider it an angy panda's (me, I'm the angy panda) inbox call for Jing Yuan, because he's finally calling to me. There's numerous people to blame for this one, and all of them in a row, without even realizing the others. But it ends in good things, I've been waiting for this day.

[infevious]

I NEED a part 2 of that Latino kinich pls pls make it fluffy 😭🙏🏻🙏🏻

APOLOGIES

a/n: pt 2 of this !! probs ooc 😓 im also surprise surprise high as balls again so im probably thinking im writing shit shakespeare himself couldn’t but it’s actually ass. i also have a test tomorrow and need to sleep early today so pls dont hate me for not writing an actual ending i’ll finish tomorrow maybe 😭😭😭

…………………………………………….

The final straw for the hunter was when he saw you and Yaotyl playing around, he hated how the man was touching you, he had tried convincing himself he wasn’t jealous but he knew he was lying to himself. His saurian companion only added salt to the wound.

“Would you look at that! She’s enjoying her time with someone else while you’re over here looking like a kicked puppy- you ever seen her smile that big? Maybe you should just jump off the nearest cliff to end this horrible feeling!”

.

.

.

.

You were walking home after a long day of commissions, the sun was setting and all you wanted to do was rot in bed the rest of the evening. You heard some footsteps behind you but thought nothing of it, multiple people use this path it’s nothing, you kept walking until you felt someone grab your hand and turn you towards them.

It was Kinich. He let go of your hand and gripped your arm, pulling you close to his chest, a little too close, and you could tell he was annoyed.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

You blinked. Didn’t he tell you you were being annoying? You blinked again.

“I’m not ignoring you..”

“Bullshit” His grip on your arm tightened. “You haven’t talked to me in weeks.”

“I’ve just been..busy..?”

Wow. Best liar in all of Teyvat he’s surly going to be convinced.

“Uh huh? Busy with what? Busy with everyone in Natlan that you can’t even spare me a glance?”

“Why do you care? I thought you said I was annoying?”

He bit his lip and looked down for a moment before looking back at you.

“I did…but you’re my f-” He sighed, mentally cursing at himself for caring so much. He didn’t really mind you ignoring him for the first couple of days, but when he saw you were with another man he realized how bad he regretted it, he realized his feelings for you.

“You’re my friend. I just needed some time alone.”

You felt your throat start to burn a bit. Friend. You should have known, you never had a chance with him. You swallowed the feeling back and looked down.

“Okay”

Okay? That’s it? You’ve ignored him for almost a month and the only thing you can say is okay?

He gripped your arm tighter and pulled you closer.

“Is that all you’re going to say? Okay?”

“Well what do you want me to say!?”

That came out a little louder than expected but whatever..all you wanted right now was to rush home and lock yourself in your room.

“Anything other than okay!”

“I’m sorry for listening to you and giving you the space you wanted!”

He scoffed and let you go, crossing his arms and looking away. He knew he should just apologize to you so you two could go back to before and get past this.

“..I’m sorry”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t really expect that.

“What?”

“I said i’m sorry alright?”

.

.

.

.

After a while, it was actually a day and a half, you two were finally back to normal, you just tried to tone it down a bit. He noticed that, but he also noticed how your hand stopped brushing against his when you would walk together, how you seemed slightly less cheery when talking to him, how you stopped looking at him with a small little smile when he would talk.

He was walking back to a customer after finishing a commission when he heard your voice.

“-I don’t know how long I can take it anymore..! I can’t get rid of my stupid feelings! How do I make them go away!?”

He saw you shake Mualani as you looked like you were about to burst out into tears. Feelings? What feelings? Who were you talking about? His eyebrows furrowed as he continued to listen to what you were talking about.

“Uh- how are you sure he doesn’t like you back?”

“He was annoyed at me for spending time with him! He called me a friend..!”

Wait. Was it him you were talking about? He almost started praying to the archons then and there that it was him, he was ready to pay what ever price if you could return his feelings. He was snapped back into his thoughts as he heard Mualani confirm.

“Kinich is a weird guy, who knows?”

“Lani don’t get my hopes up..”

She gave you a small smile and then noticed Kinich standing a few feet behind you. She saw how his cheeks were slightly blushed and raised her eyebrow. He realized that she saw him and quickly left to find the customer.

Interesting.

…………………………………………….

[tyr-the-fenrir]

Introduction

Hello! I'm Tyr, the runner of this blog! In person I don't go by that name, but it is the name of one of my fursonas, and this is my furry blog with some other things thrown in. Some things being something like my identity as an alterhuman, my queer identities/experiences, my hyperfixations, art of mine, and possibly me posting my commissioned art here.

Some things to know about me are...

Furry Fandom Things

I have two main 'sonas that are based off of my alterhuman identities. Comet, and Tyr. And I created a character today (the day I post this) named Ody, whose just a normal character based on a major hyperfixation of mine

While Comet isn't a fully correct interpretation of my identity, he was actually my first 'sona. He is representative of who I want to become. (The chibi piece was made as a vent piece). Comet is a sweetheart with a lot of love to give. He's very social and a little bit of a party animal, within reason.

Tyr, on the otherhand, is representative of me now. Tyr is a wolf, though art wise he is a Fenrir. He is a seclusive creature, unless it's with others he knows. He doesn't trust others easily and keeps to himself. When he does feel confident, he is a bit more sociable than normal.

Ody is still very new so I haven't figured out everything about him just yet. I plan on updating him as I work on his species, the Greepics.

Alterhuman Things

So I am alterhuman, I do not see myself as human in the sense of spiritually or mentally. That is how I experience the world and my identity in this community. I consider myself as Otherkin due to most of my identities falling under that umbrella.

My identities include:

Dragonkin (Otherkin)

Fenrir (Copingkin)

Julian Devorak (Fictionkin)

Anatolian Shepherd/Saint Bernard Mix (Copinglink)

Lucifer/Fallen Angel (Otherkith/Otherhearted)

Telemachus [Musical version primarily] (Otherlink/Copinglink/Otherheart/Otherkith)

All of these are different to me and how I experience the world around me. I do tend to have shifts, but that's only my experience.

Queer Things

Ok- so this may get lengthy as I find it very complicated to explain my identity as a queer person. I'll break it down by category.

Gender:

I am a transgender demiboy. Now, I have been feeling more fluid recently, but I still feel connected to these terms. I am AFAB/ftm trans. I identify as masculine, but not fully. I do want to transition to a more masculine presenting form.

Romantic attraction:

I am Omniromantic and Demiromantic. I have to have a connection to a person before I start feeling romantic feelings towards someone. Though, I do not mind dating anyone. Personality is most important to me, but I do see gender.

Sexual Attraction:

I identify as Demisexual and Androsexual. Much like Demiromantic, except for sexual attraction, I need a connection before I start thinking in that way. As for Androsexual, I am attracted to Masculine peoples.

Relationship Style:

I'm ambiamorous, that little in between area of being monogamous and polyamorous. I do not mind either way.

Art

I am more inclined to draw more cartoony than realistic. I enjoy more animalistic characters than humans as they're just easier for me. Though I have been slowly teaching myself more and more with humans. I do enjoy drawing fan art so I may be getting into that more and more. So I will be posting my art on here as time goes on.

Commissions

I do commissions on the side primarily, but I do not have a reliable source of income so I do have them open to people I'm close with. They're not open to others right now as I am still needing to make a terms of service for people to look at so they know my rule when they commission me.

Hyperfixations

EPIC: The Musical is one of my biggest hyperfixations right now, and I plan on finishing The Odyssey. I love the songs and have been listening to it the entire time I've been typing this.

I also know a decent amount about Dungeons and Dragons. I absolutely love the game and have been playing for about 3 years now.

I did have a major The Arcana: A Mystic Romance hyperfixation. It's died down, but I do enjoy the media and the original game. Not too happy with Dorian, but I am not gonna hate to be completely honest. As long as people understand boundaries.

Dragons, and I enjoy consuming any sort of media about them. Wings of Fire being a big part of my childhood.

I'll probably add more as I either gain or remember my hyperfixations. It's midnight as I'm typing this

DNI (Do Not Interact)

I would like if these people stayed off my page as I'm just wanting to exist peacefully. This isn't in any order, they're all bad in my opinion and I don't want to interact

Anti-furry

Anti-alterhumans

Homophobes

Transphobes

Terfs

Transmeds

People with harmful ideologies

Proshippers

Those into any harmful paraphilia

Rules:

1- I will not respond to, or interact with, anyone who is in my DNI. I have that for a reason.

2- This page will be SFW. I will not post anything with NSFW/NSFT content. I don't want those topics in my inbox.

3- Please try to keep things positive. I really don't want to have someone randomly venting to me and I don't know how to help.

I will add to the rules if need be, but for now, that should be it.

[the-night-writer1]

Normal Days

Evil mk timeline C other wise known as the he survived au. In which Shan survived the incident but it extremely changed his way of life.

5:30 in morning.

Shanyao sighed as he looked at his clock. He was the only one up and his phone was too far away. He needed to charge it last night so Pigsy plugged it in next to his broken voice board all the way on Shanyao's desk. Shan's wheelchair was parked at the end of the bed thus he'd have to wait for someone else to get it.

Which was his own fault, he thought he'd be asleep until seven today but dammit he woke up early. Mr. Pigsy was great at having things setup when Shan slept to his normal time. This was just one of those days were he messed up their well versed routine. Shanyao's grabber could only reach his whiteboard and marker which were useless when Shan was the only one awake.

At least he didn't wake up in pain, he just woke up early today. Waiting wasn't to bad, he had thinking time. Yelling wasn't a possibility as the loudest he could get was barely a whisper. He really needed to get a button or something in the future if he made enough from recycling.

He'd probably go out today, Shan had definitely recovered from his cold so Mk couldn't stop him. Maybe he'd get something for Mk too. His brother been rather stressed out lately. He had a good bit of money for at least a small plush.

Shan had his whiteboard so the voice board could wait. Surely Mr.Pigsy agree his brother's mental health was important.

7:35am

"Sorry about bein slow today Shan wasn't expectin ya to be up yet" Pigsy apologized as he was pouring tea into Shan's mug. Shan gave him a reassuring smile as Tang brought over Shanyao's morning meds. Tang shown up early today so at least Pigsy had someone he could hold a proper conversation with during breakfast. Shan still had no idea why the two weren't dating yet.

"hey it happens Pigsy, your too hard on yourself" Tang said as he ruffled Shan's hair," it's not the end of the world right Shan?"

Shan nodded in agreement as Pigsy put his cup in front of him still a bit upset. Pigsy was always a bit upset if Shan was left waiting. Wasn't Pigsy's fault, no one's really.

"Tang he was left layin' there fer at least an hour and half because I put his phone too far away." Pigsy grumbled as he pulled out his wok to start breakfast," I need to put a good TV in ya room kiddo so you aren't stuck reading the same comics over and over"

Shan sighed as he took his pills, he didn't need a fancy TV in his room. He didn't want Pigsy spending that kind of money on him. The pig demon already took care of him with no payment and had been for years. Shan couldn't even pay a proper rent so he felt it was undeserved.

I don't need a TV guys I'm fine with my books Shanyao quickly wrote down on his whiteboard. He put his marker down after he finished writing the sentence before lifting the whiteboard with his hand to show the two older men.

"Shan he just wants you to have options when you're in your room. A little TV time never hurt anyone " Tang said as he patted Shan's back. Shan still didn't want Pigsy getting a TV for him . He frowned a bit at the thought.

"Let me get ya stuff sometimes kiddo ya been living here with me for three years." Pigsy said as he was cooking. Shan still didn't think he deserved it. He wished he could at least pay rent. Maybe he could text Mk about it after breakfast since it was Tuesday. Tuesdays usually meant that mk was looking for art references or more recently training with the monkey king.

Shan found himself thinking about that recent change as Tang and Pigsy started talking about something. Probably the normal freeloader flirting. He wondered if Wukong was pushing Mk too far and that was why his brother was so stressed out?

He couldn't get Mk to talk about it but his brother could also just be too engrossed in being the monkey king's successor. Possibly it was the art commissions for that Lee guy Mk was working for too. Shan didn't know how to think about Lee. He had met the man recently and Shan felt like something was off.

He was too hands on with mk for Shanyao's liking. His brother had a boyfriend! Shan didn't know their real name but Cherry bomb probably wouldn't like that guy.

10:30am

"Hey Bro what are your plans today?" Mk asked as he took a seat next Shanyao's chair. That energetic smile on Mk's face made Shan smile back. He quickly popped the lid off his marker to reply.

I plan on at least going outside what about you? Shanyao wrote before showing his brother. Mk cleaned the whiteboard with his shirt before replying to Shan. It was something he always did so Shan could quickly reply.

"Lee invited us both to lunch at the weather station that sounds fun right?" Mk asked cheerfully as Shan looked at him a bit confused. Why was that guy inviting him to lunch? Mk was the artist not Shan.

Also could Shan even get into the weather station? He never been there before so that was a honest question. Shan been kind of left behind when the gang went there to fight the Red bull guy. Which was understandable he would have only been in the way and he did get to meet the monkey king.

Guy was actually really nice, even refilled his mug for him before going to check on Xiaotian. Shan didn't have the heart to answer the monkey king's question though. He barely knew the man and Mk probably would tell Wukong at some point right? Wait wait he was supposed to be thinking about how to get in the weather station. They probably had an elevator right?

Does the weather station have a elevator? Shanyao wrote on the whiteboard once more.

"Yes they do that's how people normally get to restaurant and Lee got us a private room" Mk stated as he pulled out his phone to show Shan the inside of the weather station," you'll have plenty of room to move around and they only have ramps so no bumps to worry about "

Another question what about Cherry bomb are they okay with your commissioner buying us lunch?

"why wouldn't -" Mk questioned before he face palmed and started laughing," fuck Shanny did I forget to tell you Lee is Cherry bomb? My bad. I should have told you that when I introduced you."

Shan snorted at his brother's laughter. Of course Mk forget to clear that up. He just didn't think Lee would have been Mk's type. Then again Mk did meet him online so maybe there was more to Lee than Shanyao knew about at the moment.

Lee did get Mk a new place to live after all where mk isn't miserable. Shan still felt bad that mk chose to live in that shitty apartment for so long because of him. He'd give anything to have someone beat up that landlord who refused to fix the elevator. Shanyao knew Mk only moved there to be close enough to the shop after Pigsy took Shan in.

Pigsy would have let mk move in if he asked but mk never asked. He only stayed the first few weeks with Shan as he didn't want to take the focus. It worried Shanny a lot. He knew how hard it was for Mk too do so.

He loved his brother but mk never liked being pushed ahead all the time. Shan wanted to make sure Mk was ok. The only argument they really had was over Mk getting therapy. He got therapy in the hospital but Mk refused it at every turn. Shanyao's point was that mk could be just as mentally hurt as Shan had been physically. Mk's point was that Shanyao need the therapy more because he at the time needed help adapting.

However Mk seem okay for the most part other than that stress Shanyao could sense clinging to him lately. Maybe Lee could help lessened that.

[introjis]

mini-ish story to hopefully drive the point home of this that we think SHOULD help explain the above points op made (feel free to ignore this or have us delete this any if the op feels it's invalid/gen just hoping it puts into perspective how bad the behavior and how this mentality can be,)(also quick disclaimer that it is 1:22am as of finishing typing this- we might have misspelled something or not conveyed a tone properly as well as our bodily adhd might've made us jump around or mix up words/points so please poke at us to clarify anything that's needed tomorrow/gen):

we once had some "artists"(in quotes because neither of them had posted art in the discord server- it IS an art server however so we can only assume such, however we will never know for sure,) join the server we usually post our emojis in- on that day we were making the ice moth pokemon(the evolution of snom, the best lil' bug guy imo) "fluff" emojis (all 8 versions)- we made two versions of the eyelashes because we weren't sure yet which was better-(the white outline like in game and a black one, settled on a slightly transparent black one) and asked for opinions on which was better.

(the emoji for context if too lazy to search our blog for it)

instead of pointing out which might work better(considering our tablet is notorious for making the background white instead of leaving transparen on discord) it took a bit after they began stated their unkind and unwelcomed opinions(note: unwelcomed because they were not helping us figure out the best way to do the justice in our messy emoji- they wanted it Entirely Remade, and I don't think they would have settled for any less.)

they both began Unwelcomed Heavy Criticism(that we had not asked for- we just wanted to figure out which colored lines worked better but they were telling us to change More Than That, mind you we were excited and proud of our fluffy pokemon moth emojis and the idea of getting them out and knew they were messy but they were OUR messy emojis) after one said "neither" to our question of which was preferred/better, only for confusion and frustration to be met especailly after saying something along the lines of "remake it from the ground up" by other server members and ourselves.

if we were anyone else- if we already didn't know how disrespectful that was, if we weren't a mod in that server or friends with the wonderful sever owner who was Amazing at dealing with these two and handling Many MANY situations before this, how likely do you think that would have made someone quit making their art? let alone posting emojis?/genq

we work on our emojis how we do both because it pushes up to keep what has been our coping mechanism polished enough for when it is needed as a coping mechanism, as well as because it makes it fun and prevents a number of our perfectionism from acting up.

we work with 355x355 canvas and 2.0 dip hard pen on our program because that keeps us from obsessing about the details, it makes this hobby fun. drawing cute simple tiny things is fun and silly and should not be taken seriously or have anyone considered "better at it" no matter how messy or small.

No one owes you emojis(OR ART) unless a commission offered and you paid for it- every emoji blog can be deactivated tomorrow and no major change will happen in the world. This is something most emoji blogs do because they enjoy it, it's usually fun, or it provides a way to practice and at least be somewhat silly. Don't disrespect those who do it when entering their spaces or interacting with them.

every artist is going through something and they are doing something no one will pay them for at times. Let Them Have Fun, Do The Things That Make Their Life A Little Easier, and Might Be Why They Still Breathe Today!! Don't compare them and state one is better when we're all just doing something for the sake of doing it half the time!

A little PSA to the emote community

We saw someone make a comment stating that a certain emote artists emotes are “better” than another artist.

No matter the artist or their popularity, it is extremely disrespectful and disappointing to see comments like this in the emote community. All art is good, if it had effort put into it, it is just as good as the next persons.

If you compare emote artist, or make art into a competition, Do NOT interact with our blog.

[zekrommoo7]

Why I think the Electro Seelie represents Tomo and the implications it holds for Kazuha

Hey guys, Zek here. This is not an incorrect quote or anything of the sort so sorry if that’s what you follow me for ;;

I was doing the next part of the golden archipelago that came out today and on the third Kazuha domain there was something that really caught my attention. And that thing was the electro seelie that guides you through a good chunk of the domain. 

Now, I believe that this seelie is there to represent Kazuha’s dead friend and here’s why. (I just finished the domain as I write this so here’s to hoping it’s still fresh enough in my memory)

under the cut for length, also it’s not proofread

All three domains knit together tell the story of Kazuha. It starts with his childhood. Even though his clan was struggling, everything still seemed so grand to him. He didn’t think anything was wrong. It’s fully of memories and little messages from his family. There’s no enemies here aside from those found in the dojo. Memories of sparring matches that would have been controlled by his father or whoever was supervising him. Note, those are the only things to manifest here (aside from chests and puzzle things but I chalk that up to normal genshin domain stuff).

The next domain really picks the decline of Kazuha’s household once he’s old enough to notice it. His dad tries to convince him that he shouldn’t be tied down with a failing clan and that he should go do what he wants. Kazuha doesn’t want to leave his dad to take the burden and for a moment he feels like maybe this was happening because he wasn’t good enough. That’s a pretty memorable situation and something he apologizes for once we find him. The thing is, that shouldn’t be something he apologizes for. It was an incredibly tough situation that he had no control over it. Usually apologies don’t come unless you feel like it’s your fault or if you feel ashamed. I think he’s ashamed of his past self. And for someone who claimed to have completely moved on and left the past behind, he did seem to know exactly what part of his life we were seeing, despite only having a second-hand account of what happened. 

Finally, this brings us to the third domain. 

This domain takes place after the fall of Kazuha’s clan. He’s paid off all the debts his family owed, let go of all the staff, and sold everything that wasn’t a valuable family heirloom. He didn’t have anything to his name anymore. After we here him dismissing the last butler and any other staff that may be around his home, it’s expected that now he’d be completely alone, right?

Well soon enough we hear the voice of his friend (who I will be calling Tomo for convenience). Kazuha is talking about his life, the two are talking about visions, he’s not alone. 

Soon after in the memories, the Tenryou Commission comes to Kazuha’s home it seems like to take his vision. Tomo tells him to come with him and then we’re met with a door. The door needs two seals to open and on the island there is only one. 

The second one can be found by following an electro seelie that shows up after Tomo calls for Kazuha to follow him. And what do we do the whole time? We follow the seelie. It guides us through puzzles, helps us unlock chests, and accompanies us through battles. It guides us to the duel with the Raiden Shogun and even beyond that. 

But how can it be Tomo if Tomo died fighting the Raiden Shogun? Well, I don’t think the seelie is him exactly. This world is based on Kazuha’s memories and his mental state. I think more than directly being him in his memories, the seelie is meant to represent him. 

While being there for most of the domain, the seelie does not see us through to the end. It stops just before the boat that takes Kazuha out of Inazuma. Kazuha has told us multiple times throughout this that the past is history. He has moved one, he has left it all behind. The fact that this seelie has it’s court at this point in Kazuha’s life shows that he’s trying to leave Inazuma behind. All of it, everything. Even willing to leave behind his friend, whose memory he has been carrying with him all this time. 

And I mean, Tomo had an electro vision. It was an electro seelie. Easy connection right there. 

Now, this would line up with what Kazuha says pretty well. If it weren’t for the fact that Tomo manifested as a seelie so clearly in the first place and played such a vital role of getting us through the domain. 

Think of the things I’ve mentioned that have manifested so far. Distinct little memories from his childhood, the kind someone could easily recall but nothing that really pieces together into a coherent story. Controlled sparring matches that would be vital to remembering the different sword skills he’s learned. His fight with his dad, probably the first one he has, accompanied with feelings of inadequacy. Losing everything. 

Throughout all three domains, there has not been a single person to manifest aside from the people Kazuha has had to fight in his life. The shadow of his dad does not count. It’s merely that, a shadow. It doesn’t interact with us like the seelie does. 

This is something-- someone that he feels so strongly about that they manifested in a way that could interact with the player. Why was Tomo manifested so clearly when Kazuha insists so strongly that he left everything behind?

Well to put it simply, he’s not being honest. Whether or not he knows he’s lying doesn’t matter. What matter is the fact that he is. Deep down he has not moved on. He says at the end of the quest that his heart is clear and he says another word I can’t remember off the top of my head. He says that with that second thing, it also means his heart is empty.

His heart is empty when he has so many people that support him. He’s not letting people in because he still has not fully overcome Tomo’s death. Tomo was the one constant in his life after he lost everything and surely Kazuha opened his heart to him. Then he died. Sure he died fighting for what he believed in, but Kazuha at that moment was truly all alone. By that point he could have felt like he truly lost everything. Maybe those feelings of inadequacy even came back from when his house was falling. 

So while he has all these people around him in the present, he still feels alone. 

I think when he says he left everything in the past, Kazuha really means that he’s locked away those traumatic things. I think until he learns to really face his past and really move on, he will be unable to to open his heart to anyone. 

[starrconch]

FALLING ASLEEP ON S/O

★ Includes: Zhongli, Diluc, GN reader, fluff

★ Word Count: 1213

★ Master List

ZHONGLI

★ The sun was setting in Liyue Harbour as you arrived back at your house. It had been a long day for you, full of several commissions that had drained your energy completely save for some that you had reserved to trudge through your front door.

★ As you fell onto your couch, giving your aching muscles a well-earned rest, you heard someone approach you from behind.

���Ah, Y/N, I thought I heard you. Welcome home,” Zhongli greeted, reaching forward to help you take off your shoes. “Were your commissions today quite challenging? I wish I could have come with you.”

As he went to undo your laces, you quickly turned around and leapt into his arms instead, nearly knocking the two of you off balance. “They were,” you whined, nuzzling into his chest.

“My, my. You appear to be very tired, my dear.” He held you tight as he knew you loved that. “Shall I make you some tea to help ease the tension here?” Your partner moved his hands up to your shoulders and massaged them gently.

When you nodded, he slipped out of your embrace and made his way to your kitchen. “Why don’t you get cleaned up and I’ll have this ready for the both of us?” He called back to you as he noticed you were once again face-first on your couch.

★ While you changed, the aroma of lavender and vanilla trailed its way from the sitting room, luring you back out as if he were baiting a fish to the surface of its river.

★ Zhongli had taken the courtesy to also prepare you a light meal in the time while you changed for you to replenish your strength. It wasn’t anything too fancy as he didn’t have too much time, but it still made your chest tighten with admiration nonetheless.

★ You adored how much he knew about food (and simply a lot of things in general) and how good he was at making it too. It was thrilling to learn a new piece of information every time you were with him.

“Thank you so much, Zhongli.” You sunk next to him in your seat, resting your head against his shoulder as you sipped away at the warm beverage.

“Of course.” He wrapped his arm around your waist. “Would you like me to continue the story I was telling you last night?” His head rested against your own.

You perked up at the sound of that. For three nights in a row, your partner had been describing Captain Beidou’s story of how she took down a three-headed hydra called Haishan. The battle had gone on for four days, including the captain’s long ceaseless ten-hour battle with the beast. It was even where the incredible woman had gotten her vision.

As he continued to speak, occasionally rubbing his hands in circles on the small of your back, you felt yourself begin to doze off. You couldn’t help it. As much as you wanted to hear the rest of the story, the effect of both the tea and Zhongli’s calming voice soothed you and had you falling into the claim of sleep.

★ When your partner noticed you had drifted off, he smiled, marked in his mind where he had gotten to in the story and continued to speak for a little while so the sudden lack of his voice didn’t wake you again.

★ He knew you found comfort in the sound of his voice, and it pleased him. The mere fact that you enjoyed any part of his presence made him happier than you or anyone could comprehend.

★ After a while, and once he was sure you were in a deep enough sleep, Zhongli carried you to the bed that you both shared, cuddling you tight.

DILUC

★ Your partner had been busy all day, tending to business deals in and around Mondstadt in the morning and then burying himself in mountains of paperwork all afternoon. You knew this was his job, so you couldn’t exactly criticize him for it, but you were lonely.

★ He was still in his office now as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving you to wonder if he even remembered the promise he’d made to have dinner with you tonight.

You knocked lightly on the door to Diluc’s office, carrying a glass of water for him. He had been shut in there all day and you were certain he wasn’t taking care of himself. If it weren’t for you and his maids, he would have run himself into the ground already.

When you heard a faint response, you pushed the door open. The large stack of papers you had spied earlier had been halved, but his focus was still as strong.

“Diluc? You’ve been at this for hours, maybe you should take a break?” You proposed, placed the glass on a coaster by his side.

He looked up for a moment and smiled. “Y/N, thank you for bringing me water but I cannot rest now. A few more hours and I should be finished.” Despite his words, he dropped his pen for a short while to stretch his arms before continuing.

You pouted and crossed your arms. He would be breaking his promise but you knew this work had to be done no matter what. If you suggested eating together downstairs he’d either bring his documents down with him or suggest bringing the food up to him.

Being careful not to jog your partner, you walked around him so his writing arm wasn’t in the way and climbed on top of him to sit in his lap. Your head instinctively buried itself in his crimson hair.

Diluc paused in his signing. “My love, what’s the matter? Who wronged you.”

You. You wanted to say, but you held back your tongue. “Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just wanted a hug.”

His arms tightened around you for a second until he resumed his work again. “All you need to do is ask, I’m here to provide for whatever you need.”

★ Diluc had in fact calculated the time correctly and you stayed snuggled into him for a few hours. The constant rising and falling of his chest lulling you to sleep with its calming rhythm.

When your partner was finally finished with his work, it was very late into the night, so much so that he swore he could hear the maids saying good night to each other before heading off to sleep themselves. He internally cursed himself and looked down at you, finding you asleep on his shoulder.

★ Holding onto you tightly and praying none of the maids saw him like this (they would tease him and gossip about it for months), he lifted you as he stood, making his way to your shared bedroom.

★ He tucked you into the sheets, placing a kiss on your forehead before trying to move away. However, he found that you wouldn’t let go of him, clinging to him as if he would leave and never return.

★ With a roll of his eyes and a smile, he joined you. The heat that radiated off of him subconsciously drew you to snuggle in closer.

★ Before he fell asleep too, Diluc made a mental note to make sure he attended dinner with you tomorrow.

[toshis-puppycat]

Hello Again Part Five

A/n: I am so sorry this took forever for me to post, I don't always feel amazing and its been hitting a little too hard recently But here I am again! Its good to be writing for Toshinori too, I've missed writing for him 👉👈 I hope yall enjoy and commissions are still open! Thank you all so much for being patient with me! <3

Summary: It hurt, remembering. And unfortunately danger was coming.

Ashido looked incredibly excited seeing the big three. You could see the dots connecting in their heads about them. Even Yaoyorozu said what you knew they were all thinking 'Still in school, but practically pros already. They're the students they should be chasing after.'

From what you'd heard about these students, they were that good. You could see them saving people already. You'd also heard about their previous sports festivals. Ahem, Togatas approach to things because of his quirk certainly made things interesting to watch. (I.e. when they showed you the footage you looked away mildly embarrassed at how Togata had to strip down for his quirk). But getting the title of "The Big Three" takes hard work, and you knew that because of it these students worked especially hard to achieve that.

"Get to it. Introduce yourselves briefly." Aizawa said, beginning to point at one of the students. "Let's start with Amajiki."

The boy gave an intense look to the class, one that you could tell scared them as they all sat a little straighter in their seats. He started shaking and quietly talked to the others. "Its no good. You two go. I just can't. Even if I try to imagine them as potatoes, I can see their human bodies. I know that they're still people. No words are coming out. My minds blank and my mouth is dry." You could tell the other students were confused as he shook. "I can't say anything. I wanna… go home." He finished turning to face the wall. You could definitely understand that part. You were mentally begging to check out yourself. The lack of sleep along with the overall stress still affecting you was a lot. But you were going to hold out. You'd sleep later. You were barely paying attention to the students talking, well mostly Hado asking a ton of questions to all the students. It was rather cute of her, she sounded like she should in your opinion. Young, without the major stress involved with being a hero since she's still a student she only gets the glimpses, and nothing has been severe enough recently. Only All Mights last battle, and well you tried not thinking about that tidbit. You tried not thinking about All Might at all. You only checked back in as Togata told the class that they had to fight him, all at once. You all made your way to the gym, watching him stretch and prepare. Although you didn't know much about the third years, you could tell the students weren't taking it seriously. They have fought pros, and they've fought legitimate villains. But right now that didn't matter. They needed to see the ones that are close enough to the level of pros. The ones they have to strive to be. At least Midoryia was taking it seriously. You knew he felt like he was missing a lot. And he wanted to strive to be better (like someone else you knew), you pushed the thought away, just as he rushed Togata. You blinked slowly at the sight. Was that… his clothing just falling off? Hmm, no wonder he stripped before doing anything during the sports festival. Poor Jiro, and well all the students. You remembered how red your face was seeing All- you had to push that thought away. That was slightly embarrassing for both of you, and well… again you didn't want to think about him right now. You felt your heart throb. You missed him. You didn't pay much attention to the actual fighting. It hurt. It hurt thinking about him. You bit your lip. It wouldn't do well to break down in front of everyone. You were strong, so you grit your teeth and pushed the feelings down. You could see Togata beating the crop out of all the students. Few were still standing. Now they were taking it more seriously. This kid put in hard work to be able to get everything down to a pat. Midoriya did well though, predicting exactly where Togata would be. But it wasn't enough, as all of them ended up defeated. Togata would have to work on that predictable part of his attacks. Villains would kill for someone that predictable, and although it took Midoryia actually analyzing the situation, a smart villain would do the same eventually. Or they would listen to someone who could do what Midoriya does. And it could get him killed. He was fast, but an unfortunate reality was that eventually, he wouldn't be fast enough. Someone would be faster, and it won't end well. Permeation. It was actually a good quirk to have with the right training, and well the spirit that Togata has as well. To be fair any quirk would be a good quirk to have, especially with the right help on how to train it. It was why you're a hero. You learned as much as you could, trained like hell, and overall just did your best. You turned everything you experienced into the power you showcase whenever you used your quirk.

"Let's get back to class now. Say "thank you"." Aizawa said. All the students yelled it happily. They were beyond excited at the prospect of work studies. Before the three third years left, you ran after them.

"Togata!" They all turned at you.

"Oh cool! You're that hero that disappeared 20 years ago right? How'd that happen? How are you feeling now?" Hado asked you hurriedly. You gave a smile.

"I'm doing just fine now." A lie, but you weren't telling children what you were feeling. No matter how close they felt to you in age. "Togata, I've got a favor to ask."

"I can help however I can!" He exclaimed. Easily giving you a blinding smile.

"You're interning under Sir Nighteye, right?" You asked.

"Yup, I sure do!"

"Great. The next time you're planning on heading over to see him, mind if I tag along? Eraserhead mentioned to me that he might need a healer on his end for things." You asked.

"I sure can ma'am." He replied easily, still giving a carefree smile.

"Great! I'll see you when that happens then alright?"You smiled at the group. "You guys are doing amazing, and Amajiki it's alright to be anxious. Just remember you have support available for you alright?"

"Y-yes ma'am." He replied, hunched over.

You ran back over to the first years leaving the gym. Trailing behind them, you finally succeeded pushing away the negative feeling at least.

☆☆☆☆☆

In the safety of your own room you allowed yourself to finally relax. You were still trying to hold back though. The day was long, and it was difficult to not just break down again. Everything was just hitting you too hard. Thrown into the future, everyone busy and you still having feelings for All Might but him… he moved on. Of course everyone would. You were gone for 20 years. But it hurt. It… it hurt so much. You felt the tears gather in your eyes and sobbed. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren't breathing in properly almost hyperventilating at how hurt you were. The feeling wasn't going away for even a moment. You could just feel more agony, you wished. You really wished that he didn't move on. That you weren't thrown so far into the future. That your childhood friend didn't abuse his children and wife so severely. You wished that you were just better than you actually were. Alas you were just you, you were thrown in time. And you couldn't reverse it.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the days passed it was getting harder to avoid him. You kept walking out whenever he would walk in. You really couldn't handle being near him. You were just avoiding the eventual confrontation that would happen. Avoiding him telling you he was Midoryias father. And then you especially wanted to avoid the press coming to U.A. all together. They could… probably figure something out, and you didn't trust the press too much. You didn't want to see something portraying you as some young gold digger hero trying to ride the coattails of a more experienced pro. You weren't trying to do that at all. You were a good hero on your own. But not a lot of people knew about how you showed up. It could easily be figured out with research, but even then it could still be spun around as such. Or the public view of you could turn to that even if it's not said or even hinted at. You cut your thoughts off. It would do no good to dwell on it. Not when the guest came in.

"Don't worry on my account, Mr. Aizawa. I wanna get a feel for what dorm life is really like, so there's no need for them to act any differently from normal." Was all you heard as you walked by, giving a polite nod to the reporter and exiting the dorms.

Avoid it. Don't even think about it. Ignore it until you could be alone. Don't let anyone see you break. You needed to be strong.

☆☆☆☆☆

You didn't really need anything, you left to mostly wander around. Get a true look at Musutafu and how it's changed over the years. Everything was looking a little better, people were safer. 'Toshi did a good job protecting everyone.' You thought. A symbol of peace didn't exist when you were a kid, just heros doing their best. He truly changed the game for what heros could do. But it wasn't all good was it? You could feel it, the way certain people were staring, how they interacted. There was some underlying tension between people. It was subtle but you learned early to read things like that (you tried forgetting how you learned that, not good to think about that right now). Today you were going to figure out what happened with Kotaro. You needed to know if he was okay. If he was able to be happy, if he was able to become who he wanted to be. You really hoped he was able to. Then you could see him! And spoil him the way you had planned when you were younger. And you could apologize to him. You could finally make it up to him. For missing out on so many things for him. All you had to do was look.

☆☆☆☆☆

You made your way to the detective you'd talked to when you first came to. He was honestly the only one you could talk to in your opinion. He knew you already and understood that you were, by all means, a time traveler, so you trusted him. Toshi trusted him too. Don't think about it. You walked into the police station. You were going to be just fine. You were thankfully easily able to get his attention.

"Ah hello y/l/n. Its good to see you."

"Hello Detective. It's good to see you too." You replied. You stood by awkwardly, watching as he began sorting through paperwork. "I uh know we don't know each other that well. And this might be awkward but I need to ask for your help." You continued. He turned towards you a little panicked, (He knew you were avoiding Toshinori, mostly because the man himself came to him panicked about it, and well you looked exhausted) you didn't register that though, looking down at your feet. "I know we don't know each other that well. But… I really need your help to find someone." You clenched your fists. "He means a lot to me and he was hurting so much before I disappeared. I need to apologize." You looked up at Naomasa with pleading eyes. "I need to apologize to him Naomasa." He looked a little awkward at that.

"I can't help you like that." He said, and you looked away. "I can let you know if I ever hear about him though. It won't look good if I give out his address. But I can keep an eye out for you and let you know." He put a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him again. "I'll help as much as possible, just give me the name I need to keep an ear out for."

"Shimura!" You exclaimed in excitement, not seeing how Naomasa froze. "Its Shimura Kotaro!"

☆☆☆☆☆

It was easy to get you to leave after he said he'd help you find Kotaro. He… he couldn't tell you what happened to him though. Not now. Not when you looked at him like that. And you just barely knew about Shigaraki. Plus it was too shocking to know you knew Nanas son. He could hold off on telling you for now. Just so he could figure out how he could. He hoped you didn't figure it out before then. And well… he had to tell Toshinori you knew his mentors kid. How the hell was he going to do that?

☆☆☆☆☆

You were walking back with a little more skip in your step. More excitement than when you left the dorms. Naomasa said he'd help you! You would see Kotaro again. You'd be able to hug him with all the love you had in your heart. Things were finally going to be looking up for you. Finally, things will go right! Just then someone ran past you, and you heard someone cry out "My son!" And everything stopped. There were villains you truly believed could be successful if they had gotten help. But you drew the line when it involved children. You knew how devastating it was to be hurt so young. You immediately began chasing after the person who ran past you, flicking your wrist to have water rush to the child in their arms. They stopped running, pressing a knife against the young boys neck, as they turned towards you.

"Don't think I won't cut him you dumb bitch!" They yelled. They didn't notice the water. And they probably thought you were just some civilian trying to play hero. You narrowed your eyes at them.

"You don't have to hurt them-" they cut you off.

"If you come closer I'll slit their throat!" They snarled at you, the child in their arms was sobbing. Absolutely struggling to contain their tears.

"Its gonna be alright kid. I'm here to keep you safe alright?" You said to them. They looked at you and their lips were wobbling. You gave a reassuring smile. "Besides. They're not a cool villain at all are they? Their situational awareness sucks." The villain narrowed their eyes at you and was about to start screaming again, when you finally made the water move forward fully and covered the little boy in their arms. The blade wasn't even able to touch his skin. Not even a little nick as you forced the child out of their arms and into yours. The villain gaped at you, then tried to turn and run. But you already made sure they were trapped by another flow of water, plus using their own blood to hold them back.

The boy was sobbing in your arms and the mother was finally able to catch up to you, sobbing and reaching out. The boy was able to drop in her arms instantly, with a wobbly voice calling out "mom!" She thanked you profusely after that, and you both waited for police to show up. And you were almost scolded, until they realized you had your license and Naomasa greeted you by calling out your hero name. You and the mother gave your statements as they arrested the person who tried kidnapping the little boy. Kidnapping was a strong word though, they just knew it'd be harder for anyone to catch them if they ran with a kid in their arms. Afterwards you were going to walk off, but a tug at your shirt stopped you. A small hand clutching the lower half of your shirt. He had a small scrape on that hand.

"Thank you for saving me, Ms. Siren." His voice was still wobbly, still shaken up. But he was giving you a bright smile. The mother was smiling at you both, with a grateful smile on her lips and mouthing her own thanks to you.

"Kid, I've gotta thank you too! You were so brave!" You said, crouching down to get a better look at him. "Can I show you a little trick?" You asked, gently grabbing his scraped hand. He gave you a confused nod, but his eyes lit up seeing you create a flow of water and covering his hand with it. Any stinging he felt in his hand vanished in an instant, and his eyes widened in glee.

"Whoa… Ms. Siren you've got the coolest quirk!" He yelled. You didn't see it. But someone walking by saw you heal that little boy, and you didn't know it, but he was working for Overhaul. You wouldn't really know it until much later, unfortunately. But you went back to the dorms, running into the reporter who was just leaving and giving a respectful bow to him. You were safe at the moment. Unknowing of what was about to happen, and how your life was about to change again.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Boss." A voice called out, getting the attention of a man holding a little girl covered in bandages. He nodded in acknowledgement. "There's a new hero out and about. But I think she'd be quite useful to us." He said. The other man passed the little girl off to another person, gesturing them to take her to her room.

"I'm listening."

☆☆☆☆☆

taglist: @saratour, @devilkou, @yukiimanic, @theygottheircages, @itsallmightbitch, @toobsessedsstuff, @quirkyfandoms, @anxious-cat-with-cheesesticks, @waitwhatsrealityagain, @toxicjayhoo

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know 🥰 I hope yall enjoyed 💖

[amishfruit]

Lady of the Lake Ch. 2, Walk

full chapter on ao3

commissions/tips

Ahiru wakes up refreshed, stretching her lithe arms above her head and letting out a happy sigh. The house is quiet, but she can tell from where the sun is in the sky that it’s nearing time for breakfast so she gets out of bed.

“Oh, you’re already up.” He steps backwards to let her by and follows her to the table where their plates sit waiting for them.

She nods with a smile on her face, sitting down and quickly tucking into breakfast.

Fakir smiles back when she isn’t looking, enjoying his own meal more than he would without the pleasant company.

When she starts to feel full, she slows down between bites. “So, Raetsel is already at work?”

He nods, “She’ll be home again around supper time.”

“What does she do? I know she said it was a bakery but she wasn’t very specific.” Ahiru asks curiously.

“She helps some with the prep and finishing, but mostly she runs the front and handles the sales.” He explains it simply, hoping the words he’s using are familiar enough to her.

“Oh! So like, icing cookies and stuff?” Ahiru clarifies.

“Yeah… and stuff.” He agrees, not really knowing how to explain a job that he has never actually worked. “Do you still want to go to the library today?” He asks, changing the subject as they carry their plates to the sink and Ahiru begins washing.

She grins up at him where he leans with his back against the counter. “Yes please!”

He laughs at her enthusiasm, taking the clean dishes from her and drying them before putting them away. “Get your boots on,” He prompts, walking with her to the hall and entering his own room.

She quickly laces her shoes, meeting him back in the hallway where he slings a satchel over his head and holds it on his left shoulder.

“Ready?” He asks, walking to the door and waiting for her to answer before opening it.

Ahiru looks down at herself and runs through a mental checklist of all required garments, once she’s sure she has properly dressed herself, she nods and follows him out the door.

They don’t walk towards the stables and Ahiru secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Fakir stops for her whenever she falls behind and matches her pace, the walk is no longer than 10 minutes and soon they find themselves at the door of a large building.

Holding the door open for Ahiru, he scans the room and finds the section they should start with. He leads her over to the archives, setting his satchel on a nearby table and showing her how to search through the papers. Once his notebook is set out with his quill and ink pot resting on top of the now empty satchel, he joins her in sifting through the collection of historical records. They look for mentions of memory loss, and Fakir also looks at victim reports, finding a few where the victim recounts a memory being blocked and struggling to answer questions from investigators.

The stack of papers grows tall and he suggests they sit and read through them before continuing. Ahiru agrees easily, wobbling slightly before depositing their finds safely on the table next to his things.

They sit side by side, perusing the papers one at a time.

Fakir takes notes on anything they find useful with the intent of referencing them later.

They continue like this for the next hour, library remaining mostly empty with the exception of occasional visitors that come in and out.

Around the time Ahiru starts to grow bored, someone clears their throat nearby and Fakir looks up from his notes, expression quickly growing exasperated.

“You missed your deadline.” The stranger says, voice haughty and more than a little bit annoying, “again. What’s your excuse this week?” They push their thin wired glasses up the bridge of their upturned nose as they say it.

Fakir searches his mind for a simple way to explain the events of the past few days. “Uh, family emergency?”

The stranger scoffs, flicking short navy hair out of their face. “I take it she’s involved?” They gesture towards Ahiru, who crosses her arms and shoots them a glare.

Fakir chooses not to answer, “I’ll bring the article to you tomorrow Autor, it’s not like I’m delaying publication.” He rolls his eyes, “Good thing you always set my deadline before anyone else’s.” Sarcasm laces his tone and the two men have a stare off, Autor breaking away first to turn to Ahiru.

Recognition lights up his face and he looks over at Fakir with a smirk before leaning his elbows on the table to address Ahiru. “You’re the one who walked out of the lake, aren’t you?”

She bristles, scooting back in her chair to create distance. “Yeah, what’s it to you?”

He sits across from her, earning a groan from Fakir. “I was there.” Autor shoots a look at her companion before continuing, “I bet Fakir wishes he were there with me to see it.”

It takes her a moment to grasp the connotation, turning bright red once she realizes what he’s implying. “You’re a total creep!” She hisses it in an attempt to avoid yelling, rage threatening to boil over.

Fakir is similarly angry, he grits his teeth and wills the burning in his face to subside, not wanting to give Autor any satisfaction from leaving him flustered.

Autor raises a brow, “Found yourself a real feisty one, huh Fakir?”

Ahiru lets out an angry yelp and stands up from her chair.

“Go bother someone else Autor.” Fakir grinds out.

“Yeah! We have better things to do than talk to you!” Ahiru adds, causing Fakir to wince from her less than ideal word choice.

Autor stifles a laugh, standing up from his seat. “I’ll leave you to it then.” His tone is amused and he winks at them as he walks away, leaving them to fume in peace.

“That guy is such an asshole!” Ahiru exclaims, too angry to sit back down and fists clenched.

Fakir snorts a surprised laugh, earning a confused glance from her that he waves off. “You are an excellent judge of character.”

Her anger subsides slightly and she slumps back into her seat. “Is he always like that?”

Fakir sighs. “Unfortunately, yes.”

She makes a sound close to a growl. “How can you stand him?!”

He shakes his head, “I barely tolerate him, he’s technically my boss so there’s not much else I really could do without losing my job.”

Ahiru pouts and crosses her arms. “Well he’s not mine, let me know if you want me to take care of him.” She punches a tiny fist into her other hand as she says it and he laughs again in response.

“I don’t think I’ll need you to defend my honor anytime soon, but thanks.” He looks down at her, amused. “Come on, let’s pack up and go eat lunch, I don’t think either of us will be able to focus now.”

She agrees easily, helping him carry the stacks of references back to where they had found them after he puts his writing tools back into his satchel and slings it onto his shoulder once more. She’s still irritated but the walk home helps her calm down and by the time they are inside taking off her boots she’s mostly back to normal. (...more on ao3)

[hermannsthumb]

I know you don't usually write PRU stuff, but if you ever feel inclined, here's a ficlet idea! so: Newt is trying to fight off the Precursors by constantly reminding himself that He Is Human. but whenever newt thinks about what makes him Feel Human, the answer is always hermann. so newt starts conjuring up vivid mental images of hermann (doing mundane, hermann-y things) to ward off the Precursors. bonus point if, like, newt fondly remembering smth innocuous (like the scent of Hermann's chalk dust?) is enough to actually sever the alien mind control.

Anonymous asked: Maria!!! Would you ever write an angsty post uprising prompt? Or even a pre uprising? Anything with Newt fucking around with Kaiju and being sad i am HERE FOR 👏

in honor of the sequel’s 3 year anniversary, let’s try something a little different 👀 THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME RE: LENGTH....I'll leave it up to interpretation whether or not the bonus is wholly fulfilled.... also on proofing this I realized it might need content warnings? so vague refs to disordered eating and alcohol drinking (ie, newt’s body is inhabited by aliens who forget how human stuff works)

-----------

Honestly, Newt’s life has been kind of a shitshow lately. He’s too, like, high strung. Too many responsibilities. Not enough hours in the day to get that shit done. He’s even higher strung than he was during the war, which is nuts, because certain doom was lurking around every corner. Maybe that’s why it’s not that nuts, though. The war was chaotic—and Newt’s fueled (or, used to be fueled?) by chaos. The kaiju were unpredictable. The kaiju didn’t run on a 9-5 schedule. The kaiju didn’t expect Newt to have three new jaeger prototypes on their desk by noon on a fucking Saturday, which is usually the day Newt spends two hours in his expensive bath tub and drinks a nice bottle of wine, and definitely not a day he wants to spend giving himself a stress migraine and shouting at underlings to make themselves useful. On top of that, his usual cafe got his coffee order wrong—when Newt had to run in to get it, himself, on a Saturday morning—and it only had half the espresso shots he really needs for the day. No wonder he’s going grey at forty. Fucking nightmare. Stable employment is exactly the kind of chaos that’s bad for Newt—give him the kaiju any day, thanks.

“Dr. Geiszler?”

Newt pushes his sunglasses up, and scowls at whichever one of his employees has dared to interrupt his catnap. The fluorescent overheads are brutal on his poor eyes right now. The lab needs more natural lighting. Maybe if he complains, they’ll knock out some walls in put in a few more windows. “Did you find any Aspirin?” he says.

Wordlessly, Newt’s assistant passes him a bottle. Newt pops the cap off and takes at least four. The coffee he washes it down with is cold. “How are the last simulations coming along?” he says, flicking his sunglasses back down. He seems to have so many migraines these days. It’s the contact lenses, he thinks—making the switch over from frames so late in the game. Screwing with his perceptions. Newt went thirty years with frames, after all. “We only have two hours before—”

“We’re almost done,” his assistant cuts in. “We’re working as fast as we can, Dr. Geiszler.”

“But are we gonna make the deadline?” Newt says.

She fidgets, and moves her clipboard to her other arm. “Well—we’ve had some—issues.”

Newt stands up with a long sigh. Double overtime, probably. Sunday lost to this shit too. That new bottle of wine waiting for him on his kitchen counter bought for nothing. “Gotta do everything myself, huh? Unbelievable.”

He follows his assistant over to the main lab down the hall, where his team of j-techs are hurrying around. Hardly anyone in proper lab attire—no labcoats—someone in sweatpants—Newt wasn’t the only one who had his Saturday ruined, probably. No one else is going grey, though. “What’s this shit?” he says, stopping in his tracks with one foot through the doorway. The high-tech holo-smartboards have been pushed aside, and instead, someone’s wheeled in a huge…chalkboard.

“Technical issues,” his assistant says. “The other floors are having the same problem—something in the new interface update that downloaded last night, we think. They’re all out of commission. Technology is working on it, but for now, we had to pull that out of deep storage.”

Two of his scientists are scrawling across the board quickly—one with white chalk, the other with pink. They’re debating something in hushed tones. Newt hasn’t seen a chalkboard in years. It doesn’t fit with Shao Industry’s whole chic, sleek, futuristic aesthetic. So—bulky. And messy. “Of course it would happen today of all days,” Newt sighs. The sight of it makes him feel odd, and he can’t seem to drag himself any further into the lab and any closer towards it.

His assistant says something. Newt doesn’t hear—he’s listening, instead, to the squeaking of chalk across the blackboard. So noisy and obnoxious. It reminds him of years and years ago, of working in a grimy little basement, of…

“—look it over. Dr. Geiszler?”

“Hm?” Newt says. It was like a layer of fog had begun to lift from his thoughts, but the interruption sends it rolling right back in.

“I said we’re ready for you to look it over. Only if you want too, of course,” she adds, nervously.

“Uh-huh,” Newt says.

Newt’s never had anyone fear him before, not like his employees seem to fear him—he’s not sure he likes it. His scientists shut up the second he looms over (well—under, Newt’s never loomed over anyone in his life) their shoulders to inspect their work so far. The squeaking stops. One of them lowers their piece of chalk. “Wait,” Newt says, too-loudly, surprising them and himself. They both look at him with the same nervousness as his assistant, like he’s about to start shouting or something. “Keep doing that.”

“Keep…?”

“Writing,” Newt says. “On the chalkboard.”

The scientist frowns at him. “Um, okay,” she says. “What am I supposed to write?”

“Anything,” Newt says. “Seriously. Anything.”

She hesitates.

“Anything,” Newt repeats.

She picks up the white chalk, and writes out her name, then doodles a few random pictures—a DNA helix, a flower, a cat face, a star. Newt shuts his eyes, and breathes in deeply. That smell. He snags the forgotten piece of pink chalk from the ledge. “Can I have this?” he says. He doesn’t wait for them to respond—though they both nod yes frantically, and bewilderedly—before writing out his own name on the board. Dr. Geiszler. It looks wrong, so he writes Newt beneath it. He shuts his eyes, and writes Newt again. Why does he feel like he’s done this sort of thing before? This thing is ancient—before his time at Shao—he wouldn’t have used it before they carted off to the basement. Newt, Newt, Newt Was Here,he writes, Newt +, and then he stops.

He opens his eyes. “Who’s Hermann?” his assistant says.

Newt + Hermann. Newt didn’t realize he wrote it. “Someone I knew,” he says, faintly. “Years ago. He was my—” He swallows. He feels strange. “My colleague?”

Strange. Dizzy. The Aspirin isn’t working. Definitely the contact lenses. He could afford laser eye surgery now, if he wanted, maybe he should look into it. He grips the ledge of the chalkboard, swaying, and grits his teeth; his two scientists back away from him slowly, no doubt worried he’s about to hurl all over their shoes. He might, to be honest. Newt + Hermann. Hermann was his colleague. Hermann was his— “Are you feeling okay, Dr. Geiszler?” his assistant asks. “You look…”

“Tell Shao I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Newt says.

“What?”

“You guys got this shit handled without me,” Newt says. He pockets the chalk. “I’m not—I’m not feeling myself. I think I need to go home and lie down. Seriously, you’ve got it under control—all these numbers look, uh, good, I trust you. If you guys don’t get it finished you can just tell Shao it’s my fault, okay?”

She gapes at him. “Uh,” she says. “Okay?”

Newt doesn’t go home. He goes to the nearest shop he can find instead, and makes a beeline for the art supplies aisle. Only a few boxes of chalk in stock. Four multicolored, two all-white, one yellow. He drops them all into his basket but the yellow, which he rips opens and immediately smells. Newt + Hermann. Hermann always smelled like chalk dust—he always had a fine layer of it on his clothing, patches of it on his blazer, his sweatervest, even on his undershirt. Newt used to tease him for that. He closes his eyes, and breathes in again. Funny—all those baths, all those bottles of wine, and this stupid little box of chalk is what’s finally making him feel calm for once. Quieting down his brain. He didn’t realize how loud it’d gotten in there. When Hermann would kiss Newt, he would sometimes stain Newt’s clothing with chalk, too, and Newt would pretend to be annoyed, but he never really was.

Someone is speaking to him. An employee. They’re staring at him, a cautious distance away, and Newt’s not sure what they’re saying.

His vision’s gone blurry—he didn’t realize he’d started crying, either. He wipes his eyes on the cuff of his blazer and sniffles. “Sorry,” he says. The box of yellow chalk is wet. “Um. Do you have any more of these in the back?”

He takes the bus home for the first time in years, one hand stuffed in his little brown shopping bag the whole time, wrapped around a box of chalk. When he gets back to his apartment (his big, lonely, apartment), he pulls out the only food in his fridge—some leftovers from a Shao Industries event three nights ago—and settles down on his big, lonely couch. He can’t stop thinking about Hermann. Five or so years, maybe more, not thinking about Hermann, and now suddenly—it’s like the floodgates have opened. He thinks about Hermann’s haircut. (Bad.) He thinks about Hermann’s smile. (Silly, and sweet.) He thinks about Hermann’s dumb accent, and the clack of Hermann’s cane on the floor, and Hermann’s chalk squeaking over his chalkboard, and how it felt when Hermann would wrap him in his arms and kiss him and whisper things to him. Hermann’s sweaters always smelled like mothballs and stale cigarette smoke. Terrible combination.

Newt’s stomach growls. He’s finished the small bit of leftovers without realizing, and is apparently still hungry. He would kill for some sushi takeout right now. Or pizza, God. Yeah, it’d be screwing with his new diet and fitness plan—he casts a guilty glance over at his brand new exercise bike, which is gathering dust in the corner by his TV—but he’s tired of doing stupid kale and juice cleanses or whatever, just to please—well. He’s only human.

He is?

He walks up the stairs to his bathroom, and stares at himself in the mirror. Stupid vest. Stupid tie. Neat hair, clean-shaven cheeks, contact lenses. Newt’s only human. “I’m human,” he tells his reflection. Is he human? He felt human standing by that old chalkboard back in the lab, and holding that box of yellow chalk in the aisle of that little shop. He felt human when he was remembering things. Because of—Newt blinks at himself. Because of whom?

“Hermann,” he says, and smiles at the way the name makes him feel. He should text him, maybe.

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

“I must say,” Hermann says, “I was quite surprised when I received your dinner invitation. You’ve done a rather fine job of ignoring my calls as of late. I’d thought— Ah, thank you,” he adds, as Newt holds the door open for him. He steps into Newt’s apartment and cranes his neck around, squinting curiously, and then shoves a bottle of red wine at Newt’s chest. Hermann is much more personable than Newt remembers—what little Newt remembers—and he wonders if it’s age or something else. “I’ve been holding onto this one for a while. It’s the one you gave me as a part of a gift for my thirty-seventh birthday—you remember? Oh, but isn’t it so terrifically, er, modern in here.”

“Is it?” Newt says. He’s never given much thought to his apartment before, but he stares around at it now in mild interest. It is very chic, isn’t it? Monochrome. Impersonal. Not something Newt would’ve picked for himself. “Yeah, I had some interior decorators come in and do it for me.”

Hermann arches an eyebrow. “How…”

“Modern,” Newt offers. He puts the bottle of wine on his marble kitchen island. “Thanks for this, by the way, but I’ve actually been trying to cut back on the—” He bites back drinking. No need to alarm Hermann. “—Calories, so if it’s cool with you I’d rather not open it. I’m doing a, um, a new fitness program.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. “I suppose that explains that, then, doesn’t it?” He points at the dusty exercise bike. Newt watches his gaze move from that, to the barren leather couch, to the short staircase which leads to Newt’s shut bedroom door. Newt can practically see the gears working in his head. “Will—ah, what was their name, that little flight of fancy of yours—a dalliance, one might say—will they be, ah, joining the two of us?” He looks at Newt out of the corner of his eye. “Alice, was it?”

“Who?” Newt says, blankly.

Hermann breaks out in a broad grin, which he quickly tries, very badly, to turn into a sympathetic frown. He pats Newt’s arm. “There’s the spirit, then, Newton! All in the past, I presume? Hardly any use in dwelling on a broken heart. Then again—it’s not as if you were together long enough to warrant those sorts of dramatics, were you?” he says, cheerily. “What I mean is—certainly it wasn’t as if you had any sort of deep or emotional connection with—?—oh, I’ve forgotten the name again.”

“Uh,” Newt says. He’s not really sure who Hermann’s talking about, but just based on that fact alone, he would assume Hermann is right. “I guess not?”

“Precisely as I expected,” Hermann says, with a satisfied nod. “Rotten grounds for a relati—for a fling. You deserve far better, Newton.” Hermann touches Newt’s arm again, and this time, he doesn’t move his hand. It makes Newt’s skin prickle pleasantly. “You look well these days, though I admit it’s a bit of a shock to see you without your glasses,” Hermann continues, flicking his eyes up and down Newt twice. He lingers on Newt’s left hand, over the bare spot where—until this morning, when he suddenly realized how stupid it looked and yanked it off—he was wearing that Elvis ring. “Ending things must be treating you kindly. I don’t suppose I could dash to your loo?”

“Loo?” Newt says. “Oh, right. Yeah, it’s that door there, right off the living room.” He drops down onto the leather couch. “Knock yourself out. I’ll be right here.”

Hermann disappears into Newt’s bathroom, and comes back out three minutes later with combed hair, a straightened collar, and the vague smell of cologne. He’s tucking a small bottle into his top pocket. “I found a box of hair dye in your medicine cabinet,” he declares, smugly. “I knew there was no bloody way that was natural. Though I’m not surprised it fooled Alice.” He rests his cane against the glass coffee table and sits down next to Newt. Right next to Newt. The whole sofa to pick from, and he’d rather their thighs touch. Newt doesn’t mind—actually, the contact is strangely grounding, like Hermann’s hand on his arm had been earlier. He’s here, in his living room, with Hermann, his friend Hermann, his colleague Hermann, his—well, question mark—Hermann.

“Hermann, can I ask you something?” he says. “Something important?”

“By all means,” Hermann says, leaning in and fluttering his eyelashes. Even over the cologne, Newt can still make out that mothball-chalk-smoke smell.

“Do you take your coffee with sugar?” he says.

Hermann laughs. “Do I—what?”

Newt repeats the question. The smile slips off Hermann’s face, and he draws away, furrowing his eyebrows. “Well,” he says, “yes, usually, only I’m not sure what—”

“Sugar, and some milk,” Newt says. “It was the same with your tea. And you had a mug that you would use—you wouldn’t use any other. It was blue, and it said—” He exhales through his nose. “It said TU Berlin. That’s where you got your PhD.”

After Newt sent Hermann a text about dinner last night, he sat down with a pen and pad of paper and made a list of everything he could remember about Hermann. He started with what Hermann looks like, and who Hermann is, and then moved into the harder stuff like what Hermann likes and the sort of things Hermann used to do. He stayed up all night doing it, until his hand cramped and his head hurt even more than it had that morning, and then recited it over and over to himself in a whisper as he fell asleep. Hermann has brown eyes. Hermann likes blackberry jam on his toast. Hermann wears little glasses on a chain. Hermann uses a cane with a tiny little nick in the brass of the handle. The list is in his pocket now; it makes Newt feel calm, and even calmer when he reaches into his pocket and touches it. He exhales again, hard, and then inhales. “We were together,” he says. “When we closed the Breach, you told me you loved me.”

“I did,” Hermann says, quietly.

“I said it back,” Newt says.

Hermann nods.

Slowly, Newt reaches out and puts his hand over Hermann’s. Hermann makes a strange noise in the back of his throat—like a sigh, or maybe a groan. His pulse twitches erratically under Newt’s fingertips. “I bought chalk,” Newt says.

“You—” Hermann echoes, his voice choked. “You bought chalk?”

“It reminded me of you,” Newt says.

He’s not surprised when Hermann kisses him, but he is surprised at his knee-jerk reaction: to pull away, or push Hermann away, and to order him to get out of his apartment. He’s surprised, because those aren’t his thoughts. He doesn’t want Hermann to leave—he wants Hermann to stay longer, and kiss him more, and help him remember more. “Oh, Newton,” Hermann says. “Newton, Newton—” He moves his mouth to Newt’s neck, kissing, breathing, and whispering his name, and Newt shuts his eyes and forces himself to remember his list.

“Tell me things about you,” Newt begs. “I want to remember you.”

Hermann’s laughter, hesitant and confused, comes out in a puff of hot air against his skin. “Remember me?” he says. “I’m not sure— Are we not a bit—?”

“Hermann,” Newt says.

He grips the back of Hermann’s sweater, digging his nails in Hermann’s skin through the layers of fabric. Hermann must hear the urgency in his voice, because he shakes his head with another laugh, kisses Newt’s jaw, and says, “Well, alright. What am I even meant to tell you?”

“Your favorite color,” Newt says. Hermann kisses his chin. “Your favorite song. No, wait—” He nudges Hermann away from him, just enough so that Hermann can see him smile. “Tell me what you like about me.”

“Feeling rather egotistical tonight, aren’t we?” Hermann teases. He reaches out and brushes his fingers through the side of Newt’s hair. One of the spots Newt dyed—it was too grey. He catches Hermann’s hand by the wrist and pulls it away gently, but only to press himself up against Hermann’s chest instead. He can feel Hermann’s heartbeat. “I like—hm,” Hermann says. “I like your stubbornness. I like your passion. I like…”

His voice vibrates in his throat—Newt can feel that, too. He listens.

[jaeminlore]

To Live and Let Go | Renjun

summary: if there’s something left to be learned, then my time is running. why would i waste it all, wasted on you?

words: 2.3k+

category: librarian!renjun x tutor!reader, fem!presenting!reader, adventure au, a bit meta, what’s going on idk ur guess is as good as mine, some sections are written better than others, reader is a tutor for prince jaemin, this sucks so bad i’m so sorry.

note: this was a commission for @yrb-reads who donated to a charity of their choice. thank you :) i’m terribly sorry it took so long and it's definitely not up to par the way it should be. if you want something else written to make up for it let me know. there was depression, full time job, and a death in the family i would like to blame, but i should’ve prioritized this story more for you, and for that i’m sorry. thank you so much for donating, and i hope this serves as a holiday gift for you. again, sorry about the short length

To Renjun, libraries feel like home. Especially the castle’s library, located just west of the kitchen; a hidden gem unknown to most people. Really, only known to Prince Jaemin and Renjun, if he really thought about it. Perhaps a few tutors and scholars as well.

But these factors don’t make it home. Instead, it is the wooden walls of thick cedar trunks, built long before the castle walls were put up; when the builders didn’t have the heart to tear such a piece of architecture down. It’s the way it smells like a forest at all times, and how the inside walls are chipped and falling onto the bare floor. It is the large shelves, made just decades ago, crammed up against each other and overflowing with the royal family’s books. Each piece of literature is practically an heirloom, save the small shelf in the corner where the prince hides his new romance novels he gets delivered straight from the village of Rubin.

The library feels like a bridge between the kingdom and the village. Inside these four walls, wooden and chipped, Rubin feels like one entity, undivided by classes or rank.

It also happens to be the one place Renjun is allowed to hang his paintings.

Ever since he was younger, it has been Renjun’s dream to be a portrait artist. To be able to place his thumbprint in Rubin’s history by painting the royal family or a few important nobles, is all he has ever wanted. But the King and Queen prefer a man of nobility to do the work, so Renjun was shot down. Since he sold everything he had to come and shoot for his dream, the royal family had offered him a pity job.

Correction: Prince Jaemin had begged his parents not to turn Renjun away empty-handed and convinced them to let him earn his pay here in the castle.

Prince Jaemin does a lot for Renjun. He had introduced him to his friend and closest servant, Donghyuck, who has a sharp tongue but no real malice to back up anything he ever said. Renjun had moved in with him, and used his side of the house as his painting room. Donghyuck barely even complains about the scent of oil paint anymore.

Prince Jaemin also got him his current job as a bookbinder. Which, in itself, is a very lonely and tedious job. Perfect for a boy like Renjun who only wants to work with no outside distractions. Aside from his friends in the castle, that is. Or the prince’s tutor, who comes in for study material.

Most importantly, Prince Jaemin lets Renjun hang up his portraits in the library. He had said that they deserved to be hung up, even if it couldn’t be hung up in the royal hall. Renjun had nearly burst into tears in front of the hyperactive prince.

They had met during a touchy time in the prince’s life. He had just returned to the castle after a trip to the village. There, he was hiding from potential assassins, but for some reason, the prince seemed more upset about coming back.

It was in the quiet of that library that Jaemin let Renjun, a complete stranger at the time, in on the secret that he was in love with a girl from the village. For the young artist, it wasn’t hard to imagine. Prince Jaemin was known for his free spirit and hyperactive personality. There was no way he could become attached to a noble raised under discipline.

Of course the prince was raised under the highest of discipline, but he somehow found a way to rebel against it all and stay true to himself, even if it meant hiding the portraits he liked the best in a forgotten library, or befriending the healer and servant of the castle instead of the lords.

He was wonderful, and Renjun couldn’t wait for him to be king.

The library was home because Prince Jaemin made it home. He had crafted a place between the castle and the village — a place of seclusion — just for Renjun and his thoughts.

-

“I just want them to listen to me,” Jaemin moans, dropping his chin onto his open romance book. “I’ve been asking them for almost a year and a half to let me go back to the village, but they refuse to listen to me.”

Renjun hums non-committedly. “Chin up, please. I’m not finished.”

Jaemin glares at Renjun through his eyelashes but obliges, a pout still evident on his face. He returns to his casual pose of leaning his cheek against his fist and turning the pages of his book. “Anyway, I really want to go back to the village.”

“I know,” Renjun sighs and dips the tip of his paintbrush into the copper-colored paint he had mixed. “Right now, you have to obey them. You may be the prince but obviously they’re the king and queen.”

“I’m about to be nineteen,” Jaemin mumbles angrily.

“And when your coronation arrives, you’ll have more freedom to do things like visit the village.”

“Her grandmother died, you know,” Jaemin says, morose. “I could’ve been there for the funeral, at least.”

Renjun grabs a slimmer paintbrush and begins to note the details of Jaemin’s face. “I know, Your Highness. But if she’s anything like you’ve told me, then I’m sure she understands.”

Jaemin bites his lip and looks at the book sadly. “I just miss her.”

“It’s your duty to stay here. I’m sure she realizes that.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, albeit sadly, and goes back to posing.

“Your Highness! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Renjun’s brush shakes slightly as his mind registers the new voice. It is Jaemin’s tutor. You, a servant the same age as the prince, seem to be the only one he will actually listen to. Perhaps because you entertain his many ideas. Perhaps because Renjun had begged him to keep you around.

Because you not only entertained Jaemin’s ideas, you also praised Renjun’s art. You are a no-nonsense tutor, but as a friend, you have had neverending praise and encouragement to the two boys.

Renjun longs to be around you as much as Jaemin is. In fact, you are the only real reason Renjun finds himself being jealous of the prince. He often wonders how Jaemin could even think about a villager he only knew for a week, when you are right there beside him, every day.

Just the blossom of your smile could make Renjun’s mind freeze in all it’s concerns. Suddenly, the portrait in front of him means little to nothing, and all he could really think about was how many different shades of pink and brown he’d have to mix before he matched the color of your lips. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Good day,” you greet, bowing slightly. “What are you painting today?”

Renjun almost forgets to breathe when you walk toward him and lean your head over his shoulder to inspect his art. He can smell the amber musk on your collarbones and feel your soft hair tickle his cheek. “J-Jaemin.”

“You always paint him,” you murmur, almost in boredom. “Say, do you do favors?”

“Come again?”

“Like, if I paid you, would you draw a portrait of me? I think my mother would really like it— she’s always asking me to get a portrait done.”

Renjun feels his tongue rest heavy in his mouth. Before he can speak, Jaemin grabs your arm. “He can do it! Now let’s get to my lessons!”

And that was that on that.

-

The stream trickles loudly, leaping down and over the rock formations and falling into the pool with grace. This is where Renjun comes to find inspiration. It’s also where he comes to practice his art.

It’d be nice to do it into the library, but Renjun knows that he would abandon all his actual duties — the ones that he gets paid to do.

He eyes his oil paints, color coordinated from lightest to darkest shade. He dips his brush in pure white, to lay a foundation coat atop his canvas.

Truth be told, he could paint you from memory. But if he told you that, he’d have to admit to his crush on you, and that’s far too embarrassing. No, thank you.

Renjun takes off his sandals and plants his feet on the soft grass. The blades tickle his toes, so he tries to relax his muscles. He has the canvas stretched out on his knees, which is a bit unconventional, but it works. He looks up at the afternoon sun; his straw hat scrapes the trunk of the tree he’s leaning against.

“Sorry I’m late. Jaemin needed help with Latin...” You wander in and trail off, looking at the pool in wonder. “This is beautiful.”

You’re dressed in silver shades — Renjun wonders if you intentionally made yourself look extra beautiful, or if that’s you, in the reflection of the water. He clears his mind and his throat. “I figured It’d be a nice background for a portrait.”

“How do you want me posed?” Your lips are upturned, soft, and Renjun starts a mental list on how to keep you smiling.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Renjun hurries. “We’ll be here for an hour or so each session until it’s finished.”

You sit in the grass, atop your knees, and smooth out any wrinkles in your garments. “My Mother is going to be so thrilled, Renjun. Thank you so much for doing this.”

His tongue feels heavy at the compliment, so he settles for a simple nod. The foundation coat is still drying, so Renjun pulls his sketchbook and a pencil out of his bag. “Do you mind if I start with a few sketches?”

“Of course not,” you say. Your eyes clip to his, bright and clear, and Renjun thinks this is going to be a lot harder than he initially thought.

(The next session, Renjun is so focused on getting the outline of your back right that he doesn’t even notice you moving towards him.

“You’ve got paint on your brow,” you say.

Renjun reflexively wipes at his face, feeling himself blush at your observation. “Is it gone?”

You grin — looking straight at him — and reach up. Gently, you use the pad of your thumb to scrub off the paint. “Now it is.”

Renjun thinks he’d rather melt into the floor than finish the rest of this session.)

-

Renjun threads the spine of his latest project: scribe records from the recent knighting tournament and ceremony. Even as he pulls the last thread tight, his finger raw and screaming, he’s thankful that he wasn’t the one editing these records.

Jaemin hasn’t been to the library in awhile. His current betrothement has him in a frenzied mindset, and Renjun is sure he has more important things to do than hang out with his friends.

Still, he misses the company.

He sets the glue along the spine and aligns the pages with the leather backing. He’s so busy focusing on making sure the lines are straight that he doesn’t notice someone walk into the library. “Hello, Renjun.”

Renjun jumps, and the spine of the book misaligns. He leaves it on his table, and when he turns around, you’re there smiling at him. “Hey, Y/n. I didn’t know you tutored Jaemin today.”

”I don’t,” you admit. A bashful look overtakes your face and you focus on one of the books in Renjun’s return pile. “I wanted to thank you for the portrait. My mother loved it.”

“I’m glad!” Renjun says, brightening up. He notices that you still look rather distant. “Is something wrong?”

”it’s just...” you bite your lip. “Do, um, do I really look like that?”

Renjun wants to ask what you mean. But he sort of knows. “Your portrait? Is it not to your likeness?”

You furrow your brows. “I just... You made me look very beautiful.”

“You are very beautiful,” Renjun replies, voice low and steady. “Surely, you know that.”

Embarrassment paints your face and you shrug. “I dunno...”

“I know,” Renjun says, surety building in his voice. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s a fact that you are very beautiful. I hope my painting portrayed even an inch of your beauty.”

You look aghast at his words, mouth open in shock. “Are you… Are you serious?”

Renjun stares at the way your lips look, pursed in confusion. “Why on earth would I lie to you?”

“I don’t mean to insult your integrity,” you say, eyes wide. “It’s just that no one has ever been so upfront with me.”

This is it, Renjun thinks. This is my chance to confess. He takes a deep breath, steps closer to you. Toe to toe, so that your chest is brushing against his. And the outside air lessens it’s chill, so that Renjun is sure he’s sweating, nervous and hot and wanting.

His luck hasn’t run out yet. “Can I be upfront again?”

Your breath hitches, leaving Renjun’s own words isolated, suspended in the air between you. “Yes,” you finally say, honeyed lips nearly brushing his own.

“I’m in love with you,” Renjun allows himself to say. “And I want to kiss you. Selfishly.”

“Then do so.”

Your lips are honeyed; candied peonies against his own cruel briars and thorns. Renjun wonders if he’s good enough for you. If book binding and tutoring go hand in hand. If he’ll be stuck forever in the royal library, giving you books to read to the prince. He wonders if this is the life of a peasant, always one step behind the nobles.

Two people in service to a prince can never truly serve each other.

But Renjun doesn’t hold on to that thought. Instead, he surges forward, holds your body like it’s falling, kissing your mouth and your chin and your neck and your skin and—

“Hey,” you cup his face in his hands. “This isn’t the last time you’ll have me. There’s no need to be urgent.”

So he slows down. Gentle touches and warm gazes. Tastes you as much as touches you. All lips and no teeth. Memorized the palm of your hand against his jaw.

You’ll still be here, you said so.

Renjun decides to let go.

[sparklymilks]

£today -

1. feeling quite burnt out. i haven’t got too much work to do really but ive got some, and it’s even having that some that im just like “ugh” about. i just dont wanna do any work. i want to just recover from the last few months and build up my mental resilience again rather than having to spend my time making money. but ... well, i cant. :| i spent a decent amount of time sorting alpaca yesterday so i have about 15 wigs worth of hair to use, which is about £1000 of profit, so im ok once i actually make them. im finishing up a couple of commissions as well tho which is boring and tiresome. i hate how all my like “time off” so to speak (bc ive actually taken very little time off at all) is taken up by trying to not be insane, and worrying about how im not making any money, and then as soon as im like back to being more able to work than not, i have to just immediately go back to work + there’s no actual time for healing or anything like that. like i was even working in the insanity airbnb, there is just no time for me to try and come to terms w/ how bad the past few months have been + to try and move on from them

i also emailed my main alpaca distributor last week and as usual she just has not fucking replied to me ????????? like it’s so FUCKING ANNOYING! i WANT TO BUY YOUR STUFF? gonna have to send ANOTHER followup email today, which i hate doing bc it seems so aggressive, but i need the alpaca FOR MY JOB

ive also been doing a lot of work on [site i work for] bc they’re redistributing payments in march and i have no idea whether ill be rehired or not. they’ve been v transparent about it and if they let me (or anyone) go it’s not bc ive done a bad job, it’s just that other people also want a shot at payment and logically i totally get that, anyone can do the work if they’re trained, and im not the only person who deserves a shot at it.

on a petty (?) note tho i do feel like no longer paying their one paid woman (on a team of 100+ there are two active women - the other two quit and one of THOSE  now refuses to have anything to do w/ [the sphere] politics at all bc of how distressing she finds it -  and the only one who is paid is me) is a pretty shitty way to go about increasing diversity and inclusion in the team - which they all say they want to do - like if they stop paying me im absolutely gonna have to take a step back, not bc of any resentment or bad feeling, but bc im not being paid anymore and i wont have time to fuck about for hours on the site to help out anymore. like ill basically be gone focussing on my actual business. and that seems a real shame to me. but i know my priorities, and obviously the fact i dont want to stop getting paid, are not necessarily the same as the priorities of the hiring team (all of whom i know and like fairly well, ftr, but yea, idk)

2. i have both family therapy AND the intro session w/ the new personal therapist on the first LMFAO bro im gonna be like... :| the whole day

im nervous about the intro session w/ potential new therapist, bc whilst the first one is free, after that each session costs £50 which is such a fucking large amount of money to spend every week. like such a lot. my parents have offered to help w/ it tho and ill take them up on it for sure bc my mum definitely owes me fucking reparations anyway

3. i feel generally a bit gloomy today but i think a large portion of that is probably bc period is due any day. i dont think it’s a harbinger of further doom. hopefully

[shortythescreen]

Better.

Summary: The reader has been having a rough mental health week. Their partner, Bloodhound, doesn’t fix it all but they try their best to be there for them. 

Pairing: Bloodhound/Reader. 

Warning(s): Please be mindful going in that there are pretty vivid descriptions of a depressive episode! Including the reader having not showered, not doing laundry, having issues sleeping. Bloodhound is not a ~fix it~ for the reader’s depression but their presence definitely helps the reader cope. Gender neutral reader. 

Author’s Note(s): A commission for my darling @useeer​! He was having a rough time and wanted some Bloodhound being there for the reader! This is very light and fluffy and soft but the beginning IS describing a depressive spell so be mindful if that is triggering to you!

This week’s been rough.

You haven’t done much, which is probably not helping, but… Doing things is just so hard sometimes. Finding the motivation to do things is so hard. Things done without motivation feel empty, skeletal. Like you’re a ghost without legs, floating towards the laundry hamper that has been sitting in the corner of your bedroom for the past two days, clearly overflowing. Your ghostly hands phase right through the basket whenever you try to pick it up and it’s exhausting to exert the effort to make yourself corporeal.

Not that you’re not exhausted already. Sleep has been elusive -- to the point that you’ve been randomly napping throughout the day. At night, you lie away, stare at the ceiling, and think about everything from how yogurt doesn’t make any sense to what if a meteor were to crash into the earth right now. Your schedule’s all kind of fucked up, past late-night gaming, past late-night phone calls.

To top it all off, your legs feel like lead whenever you get up to shuffle into the bathroom. Usually it’s just to take a piss but sometimes you stare at your shower curtain and pretend it’s mocking you. Come on, I know you wanna shower. It’s just a little water. What’s so bad about a little water?

That’s on worse days, though. Today, you’re curled up on your couch, scrolling through Instagram, and, well- at least you got out to the couch. Maybe you’ll even turn on Netflix and put on a show you won’t pay attention to. That’s progress, right?

Sure, you’re kind of greasy, and scrolling through Instagram and watching dog videos that half make you want to cry in joy probably isn’t the healthiest way to deal with your… you don’t want to call it an issue but it feels like an issue. Issues. Whatever, you’re out of your room.

The sound of a knock jars you from the daze you’re in and you lift your head. You haven’t ordered anything recently, so you doubt it’s a package, and most of your friends are busy during the week with work, and school, and… Other things. It can’t be them kicking in your door for answers about why you’ve been so absent.

Your partner, Bloodhound, should still be on World’s Edge. That’s only added onto the shittiness of this week. All you’ve wanted to do is curl up under their arm, breathe in the smell of pine, and wood, and all that other stuff they can never seem to wash out of their skin. You told them so on the phone when you first felt your mood start to spiral.

They promised you that you would be able to do that when they got home. That they would like nothing more than to hold you to their chest, to kiss your cheeks and pet your hair again. The affection they only saved for you they let out over the phone and while it made you feel a little better, it almost made you ache even more for their presence.

But they have a job. Well, kind of. A calling. A duty. You’re not sure what word you should use for Bloodhound’s place as an Apex Legend but you don’t want to undermine it. You know it means more to them than it maybe does Octavio, or Elliott.

You glance back down at your phone. Bloodhound isn’t due back in Solace City until Tuesday and it’s only Monday, your phone tells you. Wonder who it could be.

You push yourself out of the hole you’ve steadily worn into your couch when you hear another quick, polite knock on the door and yeah, that sounds like Hound’s knock. It makes your tummy flutter, little nervous tingles. Maybe they’ve come home early? You shuffle over to the front door and creak it open slowly, squinting at the sunlight that instantly filters into your living room.

“Bloodhound?” You intelligently blurt.

Bloodhound is… dressed down. They’re free of gloves and in place of their helmet is a black, cloth face mask, with the fan logo for when they call upon the strength of their Allfather, or whatever crazy magic they do in order to become the beast of the hunt. They’re not even wearing their goggles – instead choosing to don their rare, round red glasses. The sun creates a halo around them, like they’re a fucking angel or something. It feels like they are.

“My love,” they say, and you can hear the smile in their voice. It makes your own lips twitch up, makes you peer shyly up at them through eyelashes. They open their arms and it’s easy for you to fall into their embrace, to inhale the earthy scent that you’ve come to associate with them. God, you missed them.

They tighten their strong arms around you and while your house is already kind of chilly, you relish in how cool their skin is. You twist your head into their chest, letting their heart thump against your nose.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” you whisper, voice muddled by the mouthful of their shirt you have. They only chuckle, swaying you lightly from left to right, their nose nudging into your hair.

“I was not,” says Bloodhound, “but I missed you.”

Fuck. You sniff, beating back the tidal wave of feelings that well up in your throat. Your fucking partner is the best. For all they are the beast of the ring, the Apex predator, they are also yours. Finally, you release them, shuffling out of the way to let them inside.

The door shuts and without the sun, you realize how dark the house has been. They reach up, tugging the mask from around their ear and suddenly you can see their plump lips, the gold stud that sits on their cupid’s bow.

“Sorry I’m not more…” You motion vaguely down at your sweatpants, the oversized graphic t-shirt you’re wearing, “you know.”

Bloodhound waves a hand. “You needn’t apologize for such things, beloved.”

You guess it’s not all that much of a surprise to them anyway. You and Bloodhound had spoken on the phone three days into their week on World’s Edge. You mentioned you weren’t feeling great, that everything was starting to feel far away even though you hadn’t moved.

They fold their mask in half, resting it on the table next to the couch. Then, they glide into your space, their presence as welcome as a cool breeze on a hot summer day, or the soft hum of a generator turning on during a storm. They take your chin between their thumb and forefinger and then you meet their copper eyes that you swear are all knowing.

“Why don’t we take today to be with one another, hm? I missed you while I was away.” They whisper and their opposite hand slides over your cheek. You wince. How long has it been since you last showered, let alone washed your face?

Bloodhound echoes your thoughts. “When last did you bathe?”  

You don’t know what face you make but it must not be pleasant because it gives them all the answer they need. The hand that passed over your cheek finds the nape of your neck and they guide you towards their waiting lips, pecking your forehead delicately.

They detangle from you and begin to busy themselves around your home. They pull a towel from your hall closet then they disappear into your room. Less than a minute later they emerge with a pair of shorts and a sweater you don’t recognize right away. Your heart pangs when you realize it’s theirs.

They sling the towel over their shoulder as they return to you and you could weep at their tender eyes, at the way the little smile has never disappeared from their lips. Like they’re happy to be with you, no matter how shitty you feel. Their fingers weave through your own.

“Come,” they insist, and you are helpless to obey. They guide you into the bathroom, setting down the items they gathered in a neat pile on top of the toilet seat.  They pull back your shower curtain and bend over the edge, fiddling with the knobs of your shower before spray begins shooting onto the bottom.

They roll a sleeve up, turning their head to face you as they stick their hand beneath the water. “You will have to be certain it is warm enough for you.”

“Or cool enough. Your showers are hot as hell, Hound,” you say, your lips quirking up. Bloodhound narrows their eyes at you before childishly sticking their tongue out.

“I like to defrost sometimes,” they say and you actually laugh. They beam back at you, gliding over when the water is to their liking and kissing your cheek. “I will be waiting for you when you finish, elskan.”

They kiss your cheek and you sigh, missing their lips as soon as they’re gone. They close the door with a gentle click, and you set to work ignoring your bully of a shower curtain.

The hot spray feels great – though you do wind up turning down the hot and upping the cold just a little. You feel a lot better after you’ve showered. Once you’re clean, you put on Bloodhound’s sweater, and make your way back into your living room.

Bloodhound has tidied up in the time it’s taken you to shower. It’s not spotless, but there’s not garbage sitting on your coffee table anymore and you think you can hear the washing machine running. You’ll have to poke your head into your bedroom to be sure.

“Elliott suggested a film for us,” they tell you from their place on your couch. You hum, shuffling over and flopping into their side. Your arms wrap around their middle and they place an arm over your shoulders. You’re not sure but you think you feel them relax a little more too, like they’re as relieved as you are that they’re back.

“What film?” You murmur, your cheek squished against their chest. They nuzzle their nose into the visible part in your hair.

“Something having to do with cowboys? I believe he said it was a ‘western’.” They say and you snort, your shoulders moving with the motion. They turn their head, resting their cheek on top of your head, and their red curls tickle your skin.

“Are you feeling better, elskan?” They ask you, softly, gently. There’s no expectation in their voice, only genuine curiosity. Maybe a little concern.

“Yeah, a little,” you say. They nod, and the hand that’s been resting on the arm of the couch find yours. Their large fingers wrap around your bandaged knuckles and they drag them up to their lips, gently kissing the tops of them.

“Would you like to talk about your week? You mentioned not feeling well earlier than I was able to escape,” they say. Their use of the word escape makes you chuckle and you shake your head, twisting your chin up to watch them press the backs of your fingers against their cheek.

“No, babe. I’m already feeling better having someone here. And having showered… Thank you for getting away. I know it was probably a pain in the ass.”

Bloodhound shifts beneath you and you adjust, moving into whatever position they’re trying to get you to. You wind up half sprawled out on their body, your legs long on the couch behind your, your chest against theirs as they stare deeply into your eyes.

“I would do anything for you, beloved,” they whisper, like the words are just for you and they can’t risk anyone overhearing them. “I am only sorry I could not be with you sooner. I would have liked to hold you on your sleepless nights.”

“Even if I kept you up?” You whisper.

“Even if you kept me up. Though Artur is quite grumpy when deprived of sleep,” they tell you sagely and your head drops onto their chest, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

[lochrannn]

AU_gust: Try not to make a scene

Read on AO3

prompt no 22: Theatre

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves

-

So, Lila has royally fucked up.

So badly!

This is definitely going to cost her her job. Probably end her career in theatre, at least in this city.

Shit, she’ll have to go back home.

What was she thinking?

So the aging starlet has been an absolute nightmare to work with and everyone hates her and three people quit the show because she made them cry repeatedly. So what? That’s what theatre is like sometimes, if you can’t tough it out, maybe it’s not for you.

But Lila has always had a contrarian streak and though she has absolutely no intention to let the platinum blond harpy get far enough under her skin that she will quit her job, Lila has made the absolute bonkers decision to send her a dead goldfish via courier to her dressing room.

It’ll fall back on her. They’ll find out eventually and it won’t be hard to fire her. She might be the assistant director but they’ll manage to finish their run of The Commission without her, they will not manage to do that without their, for better or for worse, big name star.

She’s royally fucked!

Looking up the tight busy corridor from the corner she is hiding behind to where she can see the closed dressing room door with a cheap a4 printout of “The Handler” hastily sellotaped to it, Lila wonders whether there is any way she can make it through that door without being noticed, find the small parcel, and then get out again without anyone thinking she’s stolen something.

She bites the skin on the side of her thumb while anxiously worrying her fingernail. She’s momentarily distracted by the pain when there’s suddenly someone right next to her.

“What’s up?” says Diego, one of the riggers who she may or may not have been flirting with over the past month, making her swivel round in irrational panic over her plot being discovered.

“Nothing!” she says so fast that it becomes basically a one syllable word. Great, that couldn’t have been more suspicious.

And just to prove that to her, Diego’s scarred eyebrow, the sexy one that she’s joked about making him look like he’s got some dark and dangerous past, quirks upwards. She’s never said anything about the long scar on the side of his head, she worries he might be sensitive about it. She thinks it’s one of the hottest god damned things she’s ever seen.

Whenever she makes her silly joke, he will smirk at her and say, “Maybe someday I’ll tell you, Pitts.”

So is that flirting or just stagehand banter? She’s not sure.

Diego crosses his arms and leans into her space just a little bit, “You look hella guilty, you know that?”

“Uhm,” Lila just says putting her thumb back between her teeth and staring back at the fucking “The Handler”’s dressing room door.

“Oh shit, you really did do something!” Diego says with a disbelieving grin on his face and Lila starts shushing him, vaguely putting a hand up against his face and his chest to get her point across, and then momentarily gets distracted by how hard his pecs feel under his black cotton t-shirt.

But apparently there’s also a sufficient amount of panic in her expression, because Diego softens and says, “Hey, maybe I can help you, yeah?”

Something about the sudden gentleness makes Lila completely defenseless and before she knows it, she’s telling him everything.

“So I may have, in a moment of blind rage, sent a parcel to our star,” and she fills those words with so much venom that she herself thinks she’s being petty and then feels strangely embarrassed in front of Diego, who is definitely less involved in the infighting between the actors and the production team. “Anyway, I don’t actually want her to get it, so now I don’t know how to get it out without anyone seeing me.”

She hasn’t really noticed that while she was whispering intensely at Diego who obligingly leaned down towards her so that he could hear, they have actually moved all the way down the corridor and are now only a couple of feet from the offending dressing room.

“I could be your lookout,” Diego stage whispers with a shrug and Lila slaps him gently and shushes him again.

“Jesus, Diego, people are running up and down this corridor all the time, there’s no point in a lookout!”

“Then what do you suggest?” he asks with a bit of irritation and Lila can’t really blame him for it, after all he’s only trying to help.

“No need for the attitude,” she grumbles instead of actually expressing her thanks. She gets a well deserved eyebrow quirk in return.

And that sparks a thought.

In the span of a second she goes backwards and forwards on her idea but she really has no time to contemplate all of the consequences, so she gets on tiptoes, leans into Diego and presses her lips to his.

Diego freezes in surprise.

But he doesn’t push her off and he isn’t not kissing her back (which Lila files away to examine at a later stage), but after two beats he does pull away, warm palms resting on her shoulders, and breaths out, “What the fuck?”

Oh now he knows how to whisper quietly! It sends a shiver down Lila’s spine.

“Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” she repeats a line she heard once in a film and then promptly leans back into him and apparently, and to her own utter shock, Diego accepts that explanation and he puts his arms around her and somehow gets their tongues involved.

Momentarily distracted by how stupidly soft and pillowy his lips are, Lila is taken by surprise when he pushes her up against the door behind her and then suddenly it gives way and in the next moment they’re inside the dressing room, no longer holding onto each other but only inches apart and a little out of breath.

She’s staring up into his eyes and he looks a little shell shocked himself until he literally shakes his head gently, probably to clear his thoughts, and says, “So what are we looking for?”

Lila jerks a bit, as if only fully understanding where she is and why when he speaks to her, and stutters out a dumb, “Uh.. Uhm!” and turns around to the shabby desk with the makeup mirror above it.

And there it is, her stupid package.

Oh fuck and she’d even put a smarmy red bow on it, hadn’t she?

Lila grabs it and turns on her heels making her way straight back to the door, Diego close behind, but when she grabs the handle she stops.

“What?” Diego asks hastily, now probably caught up in her panic, even though none of this actually has anything to do with him.

He’s standing right next to her, shoulder pressed against the wall beside the door, clearly ready to bolt the moment she opens it.

“We can’t walk out there like this, it’d be too suspicious,” Lila rushes out, then clamps the little package under her arm, trying not to think too hard about what’s inside, and starts dragging her hand through her hair a couple of times.

“Gotta make it look believable,” she says by way of explanation as she reaches up and messes up Diego’s much shorter hair.

Then, on a whim, because she’s feeling devious, she lets her hand drop to the back of his neck, pulls herself up against him for the second time in only five minutes, puts her lips to his throat, and starts sucking a hickey into Diego’s skin.

“Jesus,” Diego breathes out and his hands flutter to her hips and grab on tight.

And for a second Lila’s lost in the moment. Her whole body is pressed against his and maybe he’s got a screwdriver in his pocket, or maybe this stupid fucking plan is as much of a turn on for Diego as it is for her, but that thought brings her back around to why she’s here in the first place and the horrifying contents of the parcel under her arm, and Lila ends up killing the mood for herself and pulls away.

When Diego dazedly follows her along as if he’s about to kiss her, it takes all of her mental strength to put a hand on his chest and hold him off.

“We’d better go!” All amusement has gone from her voice and Lila feels both excillerated and like this was the dumbest fucking plan she’s ever persued.

Now she has a dead goldfish in a package under her arm and the rigger she’s had a crush on since she started working here is trying to make out with her a bit more, but maybe that’s not all she wants.

Diego pulls away the second she starts putting distance between them and they slip out the door to an empty corridor.

Lila turns around to Diego, glad that her complexion will mostly hide how much her cheeks are burning, and doesn’t manage to look him in the eyes to say, “Ok, thanks! Bye!” before turning around and actually jogging away down the hall.

-

Later that evening, when the audience has left, the actors have mostly headed out to the bars and clubs of the city, and only a small amount of crew are still backstage to prep for the next day, Lila heads out through the loading bay to get to the subway.

That’s not how she usually leaves. Usually she leaves through the front door, not the stage door, but maybe today, for no particular reason, she just wants to take a quick look at who is still around from the rigging crew.

And as she passes by one of the darker nooks, shrouded from view by heavy stage curtains, she feels a hand wrap around her arm and she’s slowly turned towards Diego, who has an almost shy smile on his face. Then he lets her arm go.

“You can’t kiss a guy like that and then expect him to be able to think about anything else for the rest of the day,” he says softly, just about managing to meet her eyes.

Suddenly, his shyness makes her feel bold and she says with a bit of a smirk, “Yeah, and what kind of kiss is that?”

Diego’s smile brightens, and it’s a thing to behold, as he reaches his hand up, tucks her hair behind her ear and then leans in to gently suck on her jaw just below her ear.

Lila is almost embarrassed to hear herself gasp.

But then he moves to her lips and they kiss much more gently than earlier, and yet it's somehow hotter, as she puts her hands on his chest and Diego reaches the hand that’s not still on her neck to the small of her back and pulls her in closer.

Then he suddenly breaks the kiss and looks at her earnestly and Lila is worried for a moment before he says with mild curiosity, “So you gonna tell me what was in that package?”

Lila hesitates for a moment, then thinks he deserves the truth and also it might explain just how fucked she would have been if she hadn’t gone to such drastic measures.

“Dead goldfish.”

“Shit, you really are crazy,” he deadpans in response and Lila is about to protest but Diego leans back in and silences her with his lips and tongue.

[addercharmer]

Izumi had slept next to Keigo again, he had woken just after midnight with a scream and both Izumi and Nezu had raced their way into his room to find the boy curling up as small as possible under the desk in his room. 

It took half an hour for the stoat to coax Keigo out and back into his bed, where the elder had shuffled around blankets and pillows until it felt more like a true nest. 

Nezu then had Izumi climb into the base of the bed, Keigo had quickly snuggled into her side, Nezu then climbed into the nest and settled above their heads. They had all fallen back asleep and no other nightmares had woken them. 

Izumi's inner alarm woke her and she groaned a little at the weight that was sprawled on her chest. A squeaking laugh from near her head had Izumi sighing at the fact that Nezu now would have photo evidence of them sleeping together. 

"Morning dad." Izumi croaked out, then she started to wiggle her way out from the nestling. 

"Bathroom, then we gotta talk." She tells him, there hadn't been any time the night before. Nezu had gotten an emergency call to do some analysis on a well known villain group of this time. 

Izumi stumbled to the bathroom, she emptied her bladder and washed her hands, before making the snap decision to take a shower. 

She didn't let herself linger under the spray no matter how much she wanted to, she washed her hair and put in the conditioner to soak in as she washed her body, then rinsed out the creamy substance. 

Wrapping her hair and body in towels she then scurried to her room. Izumi had no plans to do anything today unless it involved her rosefinch so she pulled on a pair of black leggings and a lightweight sweater dress. She stopped in the bathroom long enough to grab a brush and hair ties, and hang her towels up to dry. 

Skipping down the stairs Izumi was greeted with the mingling smell of coffee and tea, in the kitchen there were cereal boxes and a half liter of milk already on the table, along with bowls and spoons. 

Izumi sat quickly and combined the cereal and milk into a bowl, she dug in with a hum of enjoyment at the sugary meal. Nezu slipped a large cup of coffee on the table by her elbow before taking his own seat. 

"I didn't get to tell you, but some stuff happened at the mall." Izumi started the conversation after they had both finished their food. 

"When we got the preening brushes I suggested we look at the ones for hawks and Keigo flinched pretty hard." Nezu's eyebrows scrunched a little and he let out a hum. 

"The specialty stores for physical mutations had hardly anything for winged people, but when I was little originality my mom was friends with fashion designers...if you were okay with it I could try to make contact, they were family friends and I could maybe tell them that Inko is my sister, aunt Mitsuki never had the best memory, and if we could find and doctor some photos it would work as evidence." Izumi rambled, she was a little nervous about suggesting this, but at the same time she believed it could be good for the future if she could put herself in an older sibling or aunt role for some of her friends. 

"Good idea, what would you say about wanting to get back in contact?" Nezu asked her. 

Clearing her throat a little, Izumi thought carefully as she sipped her coffee. 

"Aunt Mitsuki has always had a huge soft spot for kids, not that anyone could tell. Inko from what her medical history says had been in and out of rehab for the last four years, it's caused a lot of problems with her mental health. It would make sense to say that you adopted me after you found me bleeding from being bullied at a foster home, and not in Inko's care." 

Izumi sighed deeply. "But that's more the in depth story, in reality I could simply explain I am Inko's sister trying to get in contact with Mitsuki because I remember she was into fashion and I need help with my newly adopted siblings wing mutation." 

"Hmmm, good good." Nezu's tea cup clacks when it's put back on the table. "Let's go braid your hair and we can work more on the back story and get those photos ready." The stoat directs already moving to the living room.

Izumi followers close on his tail, sitting in front of him after putting the hair brush and ties on the couch. She's also pulling the coffee table and her laptop closer so she can find pictures as her dad works his magic on her hair. 

"Lay out your life as Inko's sister." Nezu tells her as he starts running the brush through her hair. 

"Well, I was a sickly child, I spent most of my early life in hospital. It wasn't until I was ten that I got better, I was back in my parents care for a year and a half before the accident that took their lives happened. I was quickly placed into foster care when Inko refused to take me in, five months later you found me and adopted me. Then we can just say the truth from there. My quirk developed under extreme stress, I had a lot of healing, I finished school within six months of living with you, I have several degrees, I am a fashion disaster, and now you are adopting a severely abused boy." As Izumi speaks she's hacking through Inko's computer, phone and cloud account for photos.

Nezu is finished braiding her hair into twin tails when there are feet thumping their way down the stairs. Nezu gets up and goes to help Keigo in the kitchen as Izumi starts doctoring the photos to include her. 

She can hears dishes flatted as Nezu loads them into the dishwasher, then he's dragging a box into the kitchen, it's one of his case file boxes that he gets from the police force to help solve crimes. 

 

It takes two hours for Izumi to doctor the photos, replace the originals with hers in both Mitsuki and Inko's devices and cloud account. When she's done Keigo is just sitting down next to her with his hair and wings still wet and a towel in his hand. 

"Let me help rosefinch." She laughs lightly. 

Gently she rubs the towel through her hair, it's not as thick as her own so it takes less time to get it only damp, with his wings she carefully runs it down in the same direction that his feather go, it takes time but soon they are only slightly damp as well. 

"Give them a fluff and a shake for me." Izumi tell Keigo, she had looked up some care tips before she first went to bed last night. 

Keigo follows her direction without any hesitation, when he's done he looks like a fluffy baby bird and Izumi falls a little more in love. 

"Go get your oil and comb, I'll give you a preen before we figure out what to do today." Izumi drops the towel she had been using over Keigo's head and it earns her a laugh before the boy is sprinting away.

He's back faster than Izumi thought he would be, just before he sits again Keigo fluffs his wings and Izumi spots his hair fluffing up with the feathers, Izumi has to work hard to stop herself from laughing. 

Once the oil is in her hands and the comb is sitting on the couch between them Keigo stretches his left wing out, Izumi opens the bottle noticing it's a light vanilla scent as she posts some out into a cupped hand. 

Snapping the bottle shut again she puts it beside the comb and then runs her hands together. 

Making her hands into loose claws she starts at the joint where wing meets skin, she takes her fingers through the feathers twice just to be sure she has them all coated before moving on to the rest with the same care. Izumi needs to recoat her hands with oil three more times before the whole wing is finished. 

Next she picks up a wide toothed wooden comb and starts to drag it through the feathers again, realigning any with her free hand as she goes. Izumi does this twice before she and Keigo switch sides to do the right wing. 

The longer Izumi presents Keigo's feathers the more relaxed he becomes, little chirps and coos leaving him. 

"All done." Izumi tells Keigo, she hands him back the preening items and gets up herself to clean off her hands. 

"Nee-chan, what are we going to do today?" Keigo asked Izumi from the stairs. 

"What do you want to do?" Izumi asks right back, as she starts pulling out things to make sandwiches. "Lunch first though. You too dad." 

Izumi quickly puts the sandwiches together and on one big plate. Keigo had come and grabbed smaller plates for each of them to use. 

"Can we play a game after?" Keigo asks as he grabs a sandwich. 

"What kind of game? I know my friends picked a few out, those should be in your room. But we can go outside too." Izumi eyes Nezu who still hadn't taken a sandwich, as he hits to reach for another paper Izumi taps his paw and pointed looks at the food. 

"Really?" Keigo asks, sounding more excited about being outside than he had about playing a game. 

"Mmmyep, I even know where the park is." Izumi tries to sweeten the deal, and with all the cyber stalking she has done on Endeavour she knows that Rei takes the kids there every Sunday afternoon. 

Nezu must hear something in her voice that has his head snapping towards her, she lets her grin turn a little feral. 

"Mmm dad will even come, I saw a family there, two children had ice quirks and one had a really powerful fire quirk, the fire user looks about your age." Nezu's answering toothy grin is enough for Izumi to know she was understood. 

"I haven't been to the park since I was taken." Keigo says with a sad sniffle. 

"Why don't we make it even better and I can invite my friends too, then you can meet Oboro and Nemuri." Izumi offers, she knows that it's going to be hard, Keigo had been deprived of so much that everything was going to be a new experience again. 

"Shō-nii and Zashi-nii?" Keigo perks up a little, and Izumi is so happy that her little rosefinch liked them. 

"Yep!" Izumi says back just as chipper. "I just have to message them and ask, dad has to clean up his papers and the dishes."

Mouse?Bear?Human?: My rosefinch hasn't been to the park since the commission took him, he would like to play with you all. 

IBreakGlass: be there in under 2 hours gotta finish my chores ಥﭛಥ

FemFatale: shō and I will be there in 30

LoudAssCloud: u sure? 

                           : I just mean what if were 2 much?

Mouse?Bear?Human?: He will be fine, he loves Zashi and Shō. 

                                        : He's already dubbed them Zashi-nii and Shō-nii, and I'm sure you will be Obo-nii soon enough. 

LoudAssCloud: (　-_･) ︻デ═一 ▸

                           : (*ฅ́˘ฅ̀*) .｡.:*♡

                           : be there when I can

LoudAssCloud is offline.

[canonconspiracy]

Tarantula Terrors (Human!Flick x Unspecified!Reader)

Fandom: Animal Crossing

Wattpad/AO3: @rmorningstar21

Pairing: Humanized!Flick x Unspecified!Reader

Warnings: None

*So, I realized recently that the title makes zero sense, since I swapped my choice midway in this story, and it's a scorpion, not a tarantula. Ha. Well, I'll change the title eventually. 😅*

AN: I’m not starting an AC oneshot collection currently, so I thought I may as well post this on here.  The descriptors in the story highlight what I would think Humanized Flick would look like, but you may imagine him any way you wish.  I’ve been playing a ton of AC, and this came to me a while back.  *TUMBLR EXCLUSIVE*

Flick had been minding his own business on Y/I as he sought out bugs of all kinds.  The red haired punk male had loved traveling from island to island, relishing in the thread of his inspiration.  He had yet to run into the one he was told by Tom Nook was Y/N, much to his disappointment.  Since it was still early, merely six in the morning, he was shocked he had even caught chatter of the investor this morning, though.  

Y/I was new and unpredictable, something that Flick found his lips curling upwards at.  The way that the agrias butterfly simply fluttered onto your flowers, or the way that the long locust would hop always intrigued the amethyst eyed male.  This place was simply a new experience for him, something that he wished he'd have more than just his allotted flight time for.  

As he heard a shriek, he found his eyebrow raising in question.  Flick was not particularly the hero type, but he had been ever so curious.  Holding his studded net against his shoulder, the semi-tall, lanky male made gentle strides towards where he heard the shriek.  

Amethyst orbs landed on something truly inspiring, though he had been bemused as to why this human had caught his attention.  Y/h/c hair was slightly mussed, possibly due to tripping backwards as their whole body shook, catching Flick's attention.  His lips plummeted as he noticed the source of the stranger's terror.  

Wordlessly, he stepped closer to the scorpion with caution, placing a finger up to alert the stranger that they should no longer move.  As he watched the scorpion arm itself in fear, he stopped once more, bending down cautiously.  "I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured to the insect softly as he used calm movements.  His lips curled upwards once more as the majestic creature seemed to visibly calm, and he cautiously approached.  

Though Flick had been armoured by insects, he also was aware of the dangers that could befall him.  Once he was close enough to the scorpion, he skillfully swung his net with his other hand, capturing the scorpion and placing it in a container.  A smile stretched wider against his lips as his amethyst eyes landed upon the black insect, admiring the capture for later work.  

Shamefully, the stranger behind him scurried to their feet, a layer of blush flushing their cheeks as they brushed the dirt from their clothing.  Y/e/c orbs glanced over at the savior, someone who they had never seen on their island before.  Being the person who invested everything into this island, Y/N knew each person who moved in and out, this seemingly handsome male not being one of them.  

Y/e/c orbs admired the male's features, noticing the slicked back spiky crimson locks atop his head before anything else.  Upon further inspection, Y/N caught eye of the male's punk appearance, as well as the light horns atop his head.  Their blush tinted scarlet as they realized their savior had already turned an amethyst gaze back over to them, and that they had been staring too long. 

Taking a glance away, Y/N nervously chuckled.  "I-uh, thank you," they murmured softly, a smile forcing its way upon their face.  Y/e/c orbs finally managed to meet amethyst orbs as they continued, though the red had yet to leave their face.  "That was amazing." 

Flick found himself blushing the slightest bit at their words, amethyst orbs glancing away as he scratched his head in a slouch.  "I love bugs," he said sheepishly, "and each of them is amazing in one way or another, but you need to know how to approach them.  Scorpions will sting you out of fear if you aren't careful." 

"T-that's why I was retreating," they admitted sheepishly.  "I've been stung by two scorpions, both unexpectedly.  To be face to face with one, I was sure it would happen again."  Allowing a laugh to escape parted pink lips, they continued.  "If it hadn't been for you, I probably would have been passed out from poison again." 

"When you're walking to a scorpion head on, you can tell by its body language if it's fearful," he explained, holding up the container with the scorpion they had previously been shying away from. 

They smiled at the handsome stranger, the slightest touch of blush still present in their cheeks.  "That's really good to know," they said happily.  "What's your name?  I've never seen you around Y/I before." 

"I'm Flick," he said with a smile, his amethyst orbs keeping their y/e/c gaze.  "And you're Y/N, aren't you?" 

"Embarrassing first impression, but yes," they replied with a nervous chuckle.  "Judging by your net and bug expertise, I'm assuming your passing through to catch the local insects?" 

"Yes," he replied, his tone suddenly dripping of excitement.  "I also buy bugs, of any kind, no questions asked!"  Suddenly, they watched as the male grew a little sheepish, a clear blush of scarlet blooming against his cheeks as he retreated a bit.  "I also offer commissions." 

"Purchasing bugs is pretty straightforward," Y/N replied, a hint of interest in their y/e/c eyes, "But I am curious to hear about your commissions, if you wouldn't mind." 

"I create sculptures," he replied, his tone significantly shy in comparison to prior.  "Just bring me three of the bug you would like me to create a sculpture of, and I mail the piece to you once its finished." 

Y/e/c orbs glittered with interest as lips curled upwards into an excited smile.  "I know its early, but I have some bugs you may be interested in, plus I know I have three purple emperor butterflies.  If it wouldn't be too much trouble, can I show you?" 

Curiosity struck the handsome male's face as his amethyst orbs glimmered in interest.  "You have bugs?!" He exclaimed happily.  "I would love to see." 

Y/N managed to catch Flick's free hand once he placed the scorpion into his bag, trying to ignore the blush upon their face as they dragged the crimson haired male along with them.  They had not been far from the home in question, though Y/N felt a little sheepish just bringing this practically stranger of a person back to their home.  Though it had been the slightest bit strange, Y/N was more focused on their accelerated heartbeat, and the way that Flick's hand seemed to perfectly intertwine with their own.  

Pulling Flick into the first room of their home, they had to stop almost immediately as Flick's eyes grew wide in wonder.  Amethyst orbs scanned the room that had literally been filled with contained insects of all different sorts.  His gaze shifted to Y/N, barely even noticing that they had yet to separate hands as his eyes twinkled in wonder.  

"You didn't say you had a whole swarm!" He said excitedly, his smile rivaling the sun.  "How many are you willing to part with?" 

"Well, if you wouldn't mind doing three of the purple emperor butterflies for the commission," Y/N started, placing their free hand in the back of their head, gently caressing their y/h/c locks, "How many would you be interested in?" 

"Devotion with conditions isn't true devotion," he mused as he stared in awe at their collection.  "I would be able to give you 380,000 bells for your collection." 

"How about we settle on 280,000 bells, because you were my savior earlier anyhow?" Y/N replied sheepishly, their gaze flickering to the hand they held in theirs before flickering back to amethyst orbs.  

Amethyst orbs glanced back to y/e/c eyes as he mentally questioned why this stranger was willing to go so far further down in price for him.  Something about the way that their pouted pink lips practically called out to him, and the way that he had been entranced by this muse of a human since he first landed his eyes upon him was like magnetism.  He found himself moving without thinking, pressing soft lips against their own.  

The kiss was brief, Flick moving back entirely as he realized what he had done.  His face coated in deep crimson as he glanced away, stuttering out, "S-sorry."  He was about to leave without his bugs specifically out of embarrassment.  

Y/N grabbed his hand gently, calling out barely more than a whisper, "Wait."

Amethyst orbs glanced back over to Y/N, though embarrassment showed against his cheeks still.  "That was really unprofessional of me," he muttered out sheepishly.  "I just got so excited, and you're so entrancing, and-..."

Y/N first used their free index finger to cover his soft lips as they smiled brightly at the crimson haired male.  "It's okay," they murmured softly, before moving their index finger and replacing it with their lips, kissing him in return gently at first.  As they relaxed into the kiss, Y/N brought their arms around the slender punk male loosely, feeling his slender fingers laced in their y/h/c locks.  

Separating, Y/N was the first to speak, saying, "I do hope I see you again after today." 

"O-of course," he replied with a shy dorky smile against his features.  "The day is still in its pupa stage anyhow.  Would you maybe want to go catch some bugs together?" 

They moved their hand back down to intertwine their free hands together, already unsheathing their net with the other hand.  "That would be the perfect way to spend the day," they replied sweetly, a soft touch of blush against their cheeks.