#And now you lie at my feet defeated and snoring

[nishka-s]

When am I most productive?

When I finish all my work? When I clean my desk or closet? When I workout? When I read all the books on my TBR?

No.

When I wake my before my sibling does?

Yes.

[pure-garbage]

Tale Of The Scar... An Unpleasant Realization

Lana liked it when neither she nor Zoro drew the night watch. She always welcomed his warmth in whatever corner of the cabin she eeked out after the straw hats' daily scramble for the softest spots. Even so, something bothered her tonight in spite of her contentment.

Her hand crept under the hem of Zoro's shirt while he sleepily twirled a lock of her hair around and around.

'What a terrible wound,' she thought, tracing a troubled line from his right waist all the way up to his left shoulder. Zoro watched her turbulent expression for a long time while she stroked the scar over and over.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he requested softly. All around them, their crewmates snored and muttered in their sleep.

"Just... you're such a skilled swordsman," Lana sighed, continuing the motion of her fingertips over his chest lightly. "This scar... it must be really old. Did you get it before you started training?"

"No. It's only been a year since I got this one."

Lana stopped her tracing, resting her open palm over his heart. Its strong, steady beats usually consoled her, but she only frowned more deeply.

"Who were you fighting? How were they good enough to cut you so badly?" she wondered.

"His name is Hawk-Eye Mihawk. I challenged him because he's the world's greatest swordsman."

"And he cut you down."

"He let me live and told me to seek him out again someday. And I will. One day when I'm strong enough I'll defeat him and claim my place as the best in the world."

Suddenly, Lana realized that one day, that would be the way she lost Zoro.

Sadness washed over her in a devastating wave. She knew better than to think he could be swayed from his course. Zoro's determination to achieve his goal was utterly resolute, his stubbornness and drive to keep his word unbreakable. The weight of the promises he carried with him were matched only by the fires of his own ambition.

'Even if he can defeat this Hawk-Eye... he probably could, to be fair. But then he'll take his place. He'll inherit the mantle of the world's greatest sword master and when that happens, he'll face an endless sea of challengers. I'm sure he'll love it, I'm sure that's what he wants and he knows what's waiting for him when he finally achieves his dream. Even so... the only way this dream of his ends is... with his death.'

Lana's despair was evident on her face.

"It's fine," Zoro comforted her, oblivious to her internal catastrophizing. "It's healed now. It only hurts if I fall on something wrong... oh, and sometimes when it storms hard enough."

'I guess every relationship has a timer on it from the very beginning,' Lana mused darkly. 'We're not special, but... how am I supposed to feel, having such an unavoidable good-bye always looming over me? What logic is there that can make this burden easier to bear?'

When her expression didn't lighten, Zoro placed a kiss to her forehead. He moved to her cheek, but she pulled away from him before his lips could meet hers. She rolled, turning her back to him. He followed, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair.

"Laaanaaaa," he sang, voice muffled by her thick locks. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Nothing."

"Don't lie. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but don't lie. 'Kay?"

"Hmph."

"Lana..."

Zoro's words became a whine. He nuzzled her neck, clutching her tighter as her abrupt, inexplicable distress started to genuinely bother him. "Say something."

"I'm going to sleep."

"You're upset though."

"Yeah, upset and sleepy. Good night."

Zoro grumbled and held her even tighter.

"Fine. But don't blame me when you wake up with bird feet."

The comment was so bizarre that for a minute, Lana forgot to be depressed.

"When I... what?!"

"Come on, everyone knows that if you go to sleep upset, you wake up the next morning with bird feet," Zoro replied, tone implying that this should have been obvious.

"You mean like... pigeon toes?"

"No, that's when your heels point out sideways. If you go to sleep upset, Nicorigull, king of the doves, will feel sorry for you. So he'll come in the night and make a trade to take away your worries. But since he's a good, law-abiding king, he won't take something without leaving fair payment. So he leaves behind his feet and the person he pities will have to wear them for the rest of their life."

"Uh... Zoro, what kind of messed up fairytale is that anyway?!" Lana demanded, swiveling her head to fix him with a tart stare of consternation.

"It's a classic where I'm from," Zoro chuckled, unfazed by her sternness.

Lana gave in with a sigh. She couldn't resist the charm of his smile.

"I don't want to tell you why I'm upset," she explained, "... because I know you. I know the way you think. And I know you won't have any respect for my reasoning and we'll only end up fighting about it. I'll get over it in my own time... and you can't do anything to help, so just let it go and let me get some rest. Please?"

"Huh. Well, okay," he shrugged, conceding easily. "Fair enough."

He yawned and let his eyes slide shut. A second later he opened one again.

"But I can still hold you though, right?" he checked.

Lana rolled back over, burying her face in his chest.

"Please do."

He did, wrapping both arms firmly around her before he passed out.

Lana didn't sleep immediately despite what she'd said. She stayed awake, listening to Zoro's heartbeat and slow, even breaths. He talked in his sleep, demanding gruffly that Luffy 'get out of the water!'

"I'm drowning, Zoro! Save me!" Luffy responded sluggishly from a hammock across the room. Lana stifled a giggle as the exchange went on.

'All I can do is enjoy the time we do have,' she concluded with grudging resignation. 'However long it is. I can't let myself worry about what's to come. Especially the things I have no control over, like Zoro's determination to get himself killed.'

Zoro's unconscious dialogue was reduced to grumbling mumbles as Luffy's ear-splitting snores overtook the room.

"Zoro... I love you," she told him softly. "Okay?"

"Okay, Lana," he mumbled back. "Love you too."

Lana's heart skipped a few beats and her eyes shot open wide. Zoro had never told her that before. A bittersweet smile spread over her face as she considered the irony of the sentiment being realized at a time like this.

'Good to know anyway,' she thought, tickled in spite of her persistent melancholy. 'I wonder if he would ever say it while awake.'

That was a question for another day. Lana finally passed out, her soft snores joining the symphony formed by those of her crewmates.

___________________________________________________

<== Previous Chapter

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== First Chapter ==

[iantoyawrites]

“I told you that we had our own problems,” Astarion says with folded arms, his hips cocked in a way that clearly says “I told you so.”

“She was pregnant,” I say, defeated. “I never thought that she'd…she'd be so delusional as to expect the hag would make everything as she wished it to be.” I sigh, covering my face with my hands.

“There, there, darling, there will be other times to give your misplaced acts of heroism to someone whom appreciates it.”

I make a sound that sounds like a whine. I'm ashamed of myself.

“Well, you can either keep wallowing in your self-pity, or, and I like this one, you get your head in the game for the next skirmish and come along now. We've got too many enemies to stand still for too long.”

I lower my hands, gazing at his red eyes. I nod.

“That's a good lad. Come, let's catch up with the others.”

~

That night, when I'm tucked into my bedroll and hear the crackling of firewood and the light snoring of my sleeping companions, I lie awake.

I had invited Astarion to feed from me earlier in the day, and as I think of my given permission earlier, my stomach tenses in a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

The last time I'd been awake for his feed, it hurt. Since then, any other time he'd fed from me I had been fast asleep, and when I awoke I was quite surprised to discover the fang marks on my neck, swollen and bruised for all to see, without so much as feeling a trace of it as it happened during the night.

Such is the skill of an adept rogue, I suppose. It makes me wonder how he hunts for prey in the woods. I've…considered watching—I could always disguise myself as a wolf, or raven, and follow. But sleep is too precious out here in the wilds, and I never care to take it for granted. Besides, it is his business, and what kind of beast would I be if I stalked the vampire spawn that stalks its prey?

My thoughts unsettle me. Then, I hear a rustle of fabric.

I slow my breathing and strain my ears to listen. I am certain it is Astarion crawling out of his bedroll. I hear him get to his feet, the earth quietly crumbling under his otherwise stealthy footfalls. He's walking away from the campfire, I realize with disappointment heavy in my chest. I continue to listen for him, and besides the distant sound of trickling liquid which leads me to believe he must relieve himself just like the rest of us do, something I'd always been curious about, I do not hear him again.

I roll over onto my side, resting my scarred cheek onto my hand as I seek warmth from my sleeping bag and the fire nearby. I glance at Artemis and Karlach, as they sleep a respectful distance from one another.

They contrast against Astarion and I so differently. Karlach's fiery engine is just as passionate as any heart. And although Arty isn't verbose about her emotions, it's clear to me how much she loves the tiefling, and the lengths she'd go to to help her.

I don't feel that same warmth from Astarion. I long for that warmth, I've come to realize. It wasn't until we escaped the ship that I realized I too craved to be needed and desired by someone.

I just am not sure if offering my neck to a vampire spawn is the same thing. I find myself feeling quite jealous when I overhear the other two discuss their plans for when Karlach finds a cure for her overheating.

It warms my belly though, when I think of how excited Astarion was when I told him he could drink my blood; the curve of his lips as he smiled, and the interest in his eyes as his gaze met mine, and how I shivered when I caught him staring at the artery below my ear at a healing bruise from before. Fortunately my skin color hides most of the evidence, resulting in a dark blemish where paler skin might bruise very noticeably.

I sigh and clear the thoughts from my mind. It does me no good to dwell on such things, I reason. I do eventually doze.

[illyaana]

Collab: Chaos's Bearsday Collab by @chaos-night

Thanks for having this Collab hun! I hope you had/have an amazing birthday <3

Tags: Aged Up! Birthday boy! Izuku Midoriya x Binaural, SFW, Fluff

Synopsis: You thought this was going to be a normal birthday with Deku - the only thing that was different is you were going to make Katsudon, pork cutlet bowls, for Deku. What you weren't prepared for was a flirty Izuku Midoriya.

Word Count: 1689

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You groaned at the sound of your blaring alarm, forcing you awake. You raised your head to meet Izuku’s chin. His hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body even more. You pressed against the bed, pushing yourself upwards to face the sleeping face of your beloved.

You adored the sight of the defenceless hero.

His dishevelled green hair mimicked a bush in the woods - wild yet so adorable. His lips were slightly parted, allowing soft snores to escape the powerful quirk user. His small freckles glowed under the soft sunlight entering your shared room from the window, leaving you in awe. His long lashes framed his closed eyelids.

Thankfully, your alarm turned itself off - he wasn’t letting you move anymore, not with the vice grip he had around you tightening unknowingly.

You couldn’t resist the urge to run the pad of your thumb against his soft lips - it looked so soft and supple. The rest of your fingers found their place on Izuku’s cheek, enjoying the warmth only he could radiate. You smiled, looking at the sleeping Izuku subconsciously pressing his cheeks against your fingers.

This is what you believed a life spent with him would look like - and you pray so that it stays like this.

“Hey,” you say as you kiss Midoriya’s forehead, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Your alarm began to ring again, causing the hero beside you to groan loudly.

“Turn that thing off,” he said, placing his head on your shoulder, “We don’t need to wake up early today.”

This man… how was he the top hero?

You ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to wake you up early today?” you ask, recalling your conversation with him yesterday.

“I just wanted to spend the whole day with you, but I think we can do it from this bed, can’t we?” he said, pressing kisses on the nape of your neck.

“I think you forgot, Deku,” you say, cupping his cheeks, “You have a press conference with Bakugo and Todoroki today - you know, about your job as a hero?”

His eyelids shot open.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“It’s only,” you looked at the wall clock, “9 am right now. You have about 1 hour to get ready and head to the studio. That trip would take about 20 minutes.”

You smiled when you saw him visibly relax.

“Sadly,” you say, “You aren’t getting breakfast from me since I couldn’t even move one inch from the bed,” you gesture to his arms on your waist.

You kissed his forehead again, trying to wipe off the guilty smile he had on his face.

“Happy birthday, Midoriya Izuku. Now, go get ready.”

He kissed the apples of your cheeks before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thanks, love.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

The minute you heard the door close, you got out your phone and called your mother-in-law.

“Hi!” she answered cheerfully, “You ready to do this?”

You turned the voice call into a video call, then propped your phone behind the salt shaker.

“Hopefully…” you trail off as you put on your apron, “You don’t think I’ll burn anything or cause a fire, right?”

“If you’re anything like Izuku in terms of cooking, we’ll be fine.”

You weren’t.

Pancakes, waffles - you could handle that.

But meat? It definitely was not your forte.

Izuku’s the one who handled all the savoury dishes while you were the resident taste tester.

“Don’t worry - the very person who introduced him to the savoury dish is right here, showing you each step in detail. You won’t mess up that much,” you said to yourself as you brought out the ingredients.

You laid them out in front of her, allowing her to examine them thoroughly.

“First things first,” she said, moving to her couch, “You’re wearing your apron wrongly.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

You stared at the pan filled with onions, eggs and fried pork, feeling defeated.

You were supposed to move all of that into a small bowl of rice.

You were supposed to move a bunch of slippery onions doused in sauce, a steamed omelette that looked like it was going to break into two and a pork cutlet that you slaved over - all of that, into a small bowl of rice.

“Trust me, it’s pretty easy,” Inko said, trying to calm you down, “It just looks intimidating.”

“Intimidating is one way to explain it,” you said, staring at your hard work.

“Just do it, don’t worry - you have multiple backup pork cutlets if you mess up.”

“I know, but-”

“Just do it.”

You immediately placed the toppings into the bowl of rice without any spillage.

...or so you thought.

The whole thing spilt over the sides of the pan, missing the bowl of rice entirely.

“Try again, dear,” she said smiling, “No harm in trying again.”

⁜

⁜

⁜

After 5 tries, you managed to make two perfect bowls of fresh katsudon. The smell of the fried pork cutlets wafted through the air, making you smile at your hard work.

“It looks really good, dear,” she said, smiling, “He’ll love it.”

You smile at her cheerful gaze towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to come over? It’s just a fifteen-minute drive.”

“I appreciate you asking me,” she said, sighing, “But I think you two should spend the day together. I’m pretty sure you both haven’t spent much time together since your honeymoon.”

“You sure?” you ask once again.

“I’m very, very sure,” she says, chuckling, “Now go get ready.”

You placed your phone flat on the countertop and started to set the table. As soon as you finished, Izuku came into the house, a tired expression painted on his face.

“You okay?” You say as you walk towards him.

“How rude of them to make me work on my own birthday?” he chuckled softly.

He looked to the dining table and his eyes lit up.

“Did you made Katsudon?” he asked, the tired expression he once had leaving his face.

“Yeah, I did,” you say as you help him take off his jacket.

“However,” you place his hands on his chest, “You need to go bathe.”

“What’s with everyone bullying me today?” he huffed.

“Bullying or taking care of you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he trailed off.

“Just go bathe,” you say, chuckling as you push him towards your room.

“Oh no,” he said as you pushed him, “My feet can’t move.”

This grown kid.

“So I’m supposed to carry you bridal style now?” you joke.

“ I did it to you, didn’t I?” he whispers in your ear.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks the minute the sentence left his lips.

This man…

“Wow, my feet work now! I’ll go bathe,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

This man is too cute for his own good.

⁜

⁜

⁜

“This…” he said, mouth stuffed with food, “This is really good!”

You smile, looking at the green-haired male scarfing down the food you made. You loved the little sparkle he had in his eyes whenever he truly enjoyed something - and to your luck, it was the food you prepared for him.

“You seriously made this by yourself?” He asked with his eyebrow raised.

“You don’t see your mom here, do you?”

“You sure you didn’t order in?” He teased again.

You kicked his leg under the table, causing him to wince in pain.

“Oh, how you wound me,” he said, faking tears.

“Serves you right for making fun of me,” you huff.

He got off of his chair and headed to the sink to wash his bowl.

“Well, to be fair,” you add, “I did video call your mom so she could teach me.”

“So I was right, then,” he said as he places his bowl in the sink and turning to face you.

“She didn’t make it, though!”

“You said you made it all by yourself, but you got my mother’s help. Hence, you lied to me,” he put his arms on the countertop.

“I didn’t lie to you,” you say, laughing, “I really made it by myself.”

Izuku was already standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands.

“You kicked me,” he stared at you, “You kicked a tired hero.”

“Heroes don’t tease others as much as you do,” you retort.

“What is my purpose in your life but to tease you?”

“A lot of things actually,” you say, smiling at him.

“Oh? Like what?”

“First of all,” you put your hand on his chest, “Where did this flirty Izuku come from?”

“Maybe,” he put his thumb on your lower lip, “He came because I am using my birthday privileges to be a little more flirty than usual.”

You stare at his green orbs. They glimmered even under his own shadow. Its golden flecks shined just for you and you alone. The creases of his eyes curved upwards, showing you how happy he was just to be in your presence. The wild forest he calls his hair had rogue strands that tickled your cheeks. You loved how soft they were - especially after him just washing it roughly an hour ago.

Your hand on his chest began to outline the scars he cultivated through his years under All Might’s wing and his hero training back in UA. You smiled as you remembered how strong-willed he was as a boy to become a hero, and now he was - standing on the very top.

“You okay?” he asked, worried.

“I was just thinking of how much you’ve grown from back then,” you look up to his face, meeting his eyes that were staring straight at you.

“For someone who took so many notes back then, you’re really dumb,” you both chuckle.

“How are you still bullying me?” he sighed.

“Endure it, Deku,” you joke, imitating Bakugou.

You close your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the small moment you’re sharing with the male in front of you.

“Happy birthday, Izuku.”

“Thank you, love.”

You both shared a kiss, both bellies and hearts full.

[nev3rfound]

curled up : b.b

bucky hasn’t seen you all day in the compound, and it turns out you’re sick in bed. so being the loving yet oblivious boyfriend he is, he decides to provide some needed comfort. (1k)

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(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Walking into the shared living space within the compound, Bucky looks around, only to sigh in disappointment. “Anyone seen Y/n?” He calls out, only to be greeted by a series of heads shaking in response.

“You sure she’s not found someone else to annoy? Like Peter for messing up on his date with MJ?” Sam laughs, oblivious to Peter holding his hand up sheepishly.

“Erm, I’m right here, Mr Wilson.” Peter mutters, and Tony rolls his eyes, motioning to Peter to lower his hand back down.

“I haven’t seen her since last night,” Bucky admits quietly, unaware of Sam raising a brow to Steve. “and she’s not answering her phone either.”

Footsteps echo from behind, and Bucky knows it isn’t you as the footsteps stride through the corridor.

Loki stands tall as he passes Bucky with a smug look on his face. “Missing something, Barnes?” Loki questions playfully, hearing the metal plates in Bucky’s arm whirring as he forms a tight fist. “No need for that, I can assure you.”

Rising to his feet, Thor steps forward much to Loki’s disappointment. “Come on, brother, where is Lady Y/n?” Thor’s voice booms as he stands in front of Loki, recognising the sly look crossing his gaze. “Don’t make me ask you again, Loki.”

“I’d do what he says if I were you,” Tony chimes in from the couch, eyes never leaving his phone despite a potential argument brewing between a super soldier and two literal Gods.

“Well then,” Loki starts, looking between Bucky and Thor. “if you must know, Y/n is sick.”

Scoffing, Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “She can’t be, she was fine yesterday.” Bucky reasons, but Loki simply looks at him before tearing his eyes away mischievously.

“Buck, she isn’t invincible,” Steve speaks up. “she’s only human.”

“Pitiful really,” Loki mutters, tutting to himself as he moves past the pair. “now if you’ll excuse me, I’m after some needed quiet after having to put up with Y/n sneezing and coughing two rooms down all night. Not exactly the kind of noise I like to hear from someone in the night.”

Turning around, Steve shakes his head as Bucky’s feet remain cemented in place. “Buck, go,” Steve ushers, and Bucky snaps out of his thoughts, rushing through the corridor toward the elevator. “god, young love, hey, Queens?” Steve jokes to Peter who nervously laughs.

“Whatever you say, Mr Rogers.” Peter mumbles, hoping by some miracle the ground will swallow him whole. *

Hovering outside of your door, Bucky can hear your dry coughs and faint swears leaving your lips.

“Hey, doll?” Bucky knocks on the door before opening it, revealing the room drowned in darkness; and at least twelve packets of empty tissues discarded across the floor.

“Bucky?” You speak up, sounding nasally. “I thought I told Loki I didn’t want anyone coming in here.” You add in defeat as you sink your head back down into your pillows, unaware of Bucky’s smile fading.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Bucky creeps over toward you until he’s perching on the edge of your bed. Despite it being close to pitch black, a slither of light peeks through the blinds and Bucky can see your eyes are closed, but brows remain furrowed together.

“You didn’t want me to come check on you?” Bucky tries to hide the defeatist tone in his voice, but you open your eyes and reach out sleepily, flinging your hand on his.

“No, no I didn’t mean it like that,” You tiredly whine, and Bucky chuckles under his breath. “I didn’t want anyone getting sick, I’ve got into full quarantine.” You explain before coughing violently, a hoarse noise leaving your lips.

Bucky quickly picks up the glass of water you’re reaching for, and passes it to you. He listens as you gulp it down, a softer cough following before you lie back down.

“Full quarantine or not,” Bucky starts as he rises to his feet, moving around the bed to climb in beside you. “I’m not leaving.”

Feeling the dip in your bed, you roll over as a pair of arms wrap around you gently, lifting your body closer to his.

You hum in content, knowing there’s no use fighting and you don’t exactly have the strength to bother trying.

Resting your head on Bucky’s chest, his metal arm remains wrapped around you whilst his other hand rests on your hair, his fingers attempting to run through the tangled knots.

“Loki didn’t pass my message on, did he?” You suddenly ask, and Bucky pauses. “Stupid God.” You mutter, feeling Bucky’s chest rise and fall softly.

“He is, isn’t he?” Bucky remarks. That’ll show Loki for trying to get between him in and his girl. “Do you want me to get you anything? Like some soup? My Mom always made soup when I got sick as a kid.”

Shaking your head in response, you tug on the duvet, pulling it further over you both. “Can you just tell me a story? I wanna hear more about your family.” You whisper and Bucky tenses beneath you. “I, sorry Bucky, if it’s not something you’re ready to share that’s okay.” You ramble, but Bucky shushes you, returning to running his fingers through your now knotless hair. “I’d happily tell you, doll.” Bucky leans down and kisses the top of your head. “Well, growing up on Sundays,”

It was almost instantaneous that you fell asleep in his arms before Bucky was even able to get into any depth in his story. But it didn’t matter as you peacefully slept in his arms as the occasional snore left your lips.

Smiling to himself, Bucky closes his eyes, wondering how he ever got so lucky to find a girl like you; ill or not, you’re the most precious thing in his life.

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[chubbyreaderwriter]

Joke Pt 2

Sirius Black X Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Imagine: Sirius really likes you but his reputation makes you think he’s using you for a joke. He has to prove his feelings for you but it goes horribly wrong.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: none?

Part 1

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previously

You looked him in the eyes and you sighed, “I’m sorry, I do forgive you but I don’t think we can be anything more than friends at the moment. I’ll see you around.” You turned around and walked away, wondering if you did the right thing or not. Meanwhile, Sirius was frozen in place, he admit it could’ve gone a lot worse but it wasn’t what he hoped would happen. He was glad that you forgave him but he still had to prove he was serious about you. He wanted to show you that he liked you, in fact, he was probably falling in love with you. But he wasn’t going to give up, he’d get you to fall in love with him by the end of the year...

You stared up at the ceiling of your bed, lying on your back with your hands interlocked over your stomach. It was after hours but still just a Saturday which meant you didn’t have to worry about accidentally sleeping in for class the next morning. You were lying on top of your sheets in your gryffindor-themed pyjamas, thinking about the recent events in your life. The last day or two had been unlike any other. You couldn’t believe that Sirius had humiliated you in such a way. Every time you thought about how everyone pointed and stared and laughed at you, you felt like there was a lump in your throat, feelings of dread bubbling as you realised you would have to see those people again on Monday. You could see now that Sirius might have thought it was a harmless joke, but you were sick of being the butt of the joke all the time, you were sick of being someone people thought it was okay to point and laugh at. You didn’t want to be a laughing stock.

A tap on your shoulder brought you out of your thoughts and you turned your head to see Lily’s familiar red hair falling down her face and into your view. She gave you a sympathetic smile and lightly tapped your side twice with the back of her hand, a silent request for you to move over. You complied and watched as she lay down next to you, mimicking your position, though had her head tilted to face you, “I’m really sorry (Y/N), I know he’s a prat but I thought he would at least consider your feelings. I’ll talk to him if you want? Make sure he stays away from you.” You released a deep sigh and gave Lily a small smile, she was always looking out for you, “That’s okay, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Lily’s eyes still held a considerable amount of concern, “Are you s-”

A loud snore interrupted Lily’s next words and the two of you looked over to the bed opposite yours where a fast asleep Molly Prewett lay, open-mouthed and messy ginger locks splayed all over her pillows. You and Lily shared a look before covering your mouths to muffle your laughs as not to wake the other girl. Lily rolled onto her side to give you a quick hug, “I’ll let you go to sleep now, you need to be rested if we’re going to do all our homework tomorrow like you promised.” You mentally groaned, you’d forgotten about that. You had at least six different pieces to complete by Wednesday, but Lily liked to do it all together with you, to make sure it wasn’t late. You gave her a smile and flicked your wand to shut your curtains, muffling the noise of Molly’s snoring to help you sleep. You turned over onto your side and let out a deep breath before closing your eyes and slowly drifting to sleep.

The next day, you’d tried your best not to think about Sirius and you’d been doing well, thanks to Lily and Molly. You had all sat together with a couple other girls in your year at breakfast so your view of the marauders gang was blocked and therefore, you had no reason to think about one of them in particular. As soon as breakfast had finished, you’d been dragged away to the library to uphold your promise. You moaned and complained about all the work you had to do but one stern look from Lily shut you up as she went over the instructions for the potions homework. You hadn’t been given an opportunity to think about anything else other than work when studying with Lily. You and Molly kept trying to make excuses for why you couldn’t do the work today, but Lily reminded you both that you agreed to do this with her. You put your hands together, elbows on the table, and whined, “Come on Lily, we’ve been doing this for 3 hours straight, can we please take a break?” Molly nodded along to your begging, adding, “Yeah, my hands all cramped up from writing so much, I need twenty minutes to get back some motivation.” Lily rolled her eyes, “Fine, 15 minutes, but not a second longer.” You grinned, perking up in your seat, “Yes!”

Amidst your victory, you hadn’t noticed four gryffindor students sneaking their way into the library, desperately avoiding the librarian, and making their way over the table next to your own until they were pushing their chairs in. Their table was coincidentally located behind a large bookshelf so the librarian wouldn’t be able to see the group sitting there. You tensed up and both Molly and Lily shot you worried looks but you shook your head, silently communicating with them to say that you were fine. You heard someone clearing their throat quietly but you didn’t look up, choosing to ignore whoever it was. Lily looked over Molly’s head to see James waving her over to them. She shook her head and crossed her arms, ignoring the defeated look on Potter’s face. She turned her attention back down to the parchment paper in front of her, sorting it all out into the different subjects.

Molly leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Reckon me and you should hex their arses into next week, filthy toads.” You gave her a look of mock disappointment, “That’s not nice, toads are much better company.” Molly snorted and you giggled under your breath. Sirius heard the sound and looked over in your direction, one hand on the back of his chair and on the table to turn his torso around to gaze at you. The sound of your laughter was like music to his ears and he only wished he was the one making you laugh instead. He wished for a lot of things when it came to you actually. He wished he could hold you in his arms, he wished he could kiss you, he wished he could sweep you off your feet, he wished you had the same feelings for him as he did for you. But of course, he couldn’t make those wishes come true and was having to settle for watching you from a distance. Remus, who was sitting next to Sirius, nudged him with his shoulder, “Cut it out, you’ve been staring for ages.” Sirius reluctantly turned back around in his chair, facing James and Peter. He huffed and sulked, looking down at the table as though it was responsible for all of the wrongdoings in his life. James scoffed at his friend’s attitude, “Why are you so hooked up on this girl? You’re Sirius Black, you don’t do relationships.” Sirius only sighed in response to James’ question. It was true, he’d never felt this way about a girl before, it had scared him at first, but every time he saw you, it made him excited and it felt like there were butterflies in his stomach trying to get out. 

James and Remus shared a look with each other, if their friends was acting like this, then they knew it was serious. James pushed Peter onto his feet and told him to distract the librarian and when she saw him, she wasted no time in dragging the plump boy out by his ear, presumably to Dumbledore’s office. Sirius was oblivious as he still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. You could feel his gaze on you and it was starting to make you feel uncomfortable, but not as much as when you saw James approaching your table. He pulled a chair up between you and Lily, resting his arms on the table, “Good morning ladies, now i believe we have to talk about the elephant in the room.” You tried not to laugh at the bored look on Molly’s face. James was unbothered by the silence and continued, turning to face you. “So, (Y/N), now that Sirius has apologised and all, what do you say you give my boy a chance huh? Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about being with the Sirius Black.” As much as you could appreciate how good of a friend James was being right now, you really wanted to punch him in the face. James flinched back and seemingly lost all his courage when he saw your face twist in anger. “I don’t care if he apologised, he embarrassed me in front of everyone. I was humiliated. How would you feel if everyone was pointing and laughing at you everywhere you went. I couldn’t even go into the common room without people whispering about me. I’m sick of being laughed at, so you go back and tell your friend that if he wants to come talk to me, then do it himself because if i hear his name come out of your mouth again, I’m going to hex you into next week.” 

James slowly nodded his head, choking out, “Message received. I’ll leave you lot to it then.” He was only too eager to head back to the others and gave Sirius a sympathy tap on the shoulder, “Yeah, I wish i could say I helped but that would be a lie, you’re welcome anyway.” Sirius visibly drooped in his chair out of defeat and Remus pulled him onto his feet by the arm, “Come on lads, we should get a move on before she comes back, I don’t feel like having my ear yanked on today.” The trio left but Sirius kept his eyes on you until you were out of sight. James and Remus stood either side of him, James put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, “Mate, you’ve got to get over her or do something about it. You can’t just be a creep and stare at her.” Remus scoffed, “‘Cause what you do to Lily is completely different.” James went silent so Remus grabbed his friend’s attention, “Why don’t you try getting her something she likes? Think of it like a peace offering before you talk to her again.” Sirius nodded along, “Yeah alright, thanks mate.”

Earlier in the evening, you had been walking back from the Great Hall on your own, but you didn’t quite mind it that much. Sometimes it was nice to have some alone time with your thoughts. It was a bit too cold to walk outside so you headed straight for the common room, sitting on a couch, staring at the fire. You sighed as you checked your watch, deciding to wait until Lily returned from whatever she was doing to go to bed. The portrait opened and you heard soft footsteps. Out of curiousity, you turned your head to look behind you to see Sirius with something in his hand. For a brief second the two of you made eye contact and your eyes widened as you quickly turned back around to pretend like you didn’t see him. When that brilliant plan failed and you heard him walking over to you, you winced and mentally cursed yourself for not going straight upstairs. To your surprise, he didn’t sit down next to you, instead stood by your side, a little far aways as to not be too close.

He was quieter than usual, which made you look up to see his mouth open as though he wanted to say something but he couldn’t get the words out. He looked nervous and almost worried and you couldn’t believe that the man before you was actually Sirius, this was so unlike him. You furrowed your brow in concern, “Are you okay?” The worry on your face was enough to snap him out of it and he gave you a small smile, looking down at the black box he held in his hands. It was square and not overly large but not very small either and neatly tied with a dark red ribbon complete with a bow on top. He fiddled with it as he spoke, “I wanted to apologise once more about.. you know what. It was wrong of me and I hope the two of us can begin to become friends again. This is for you, I wasn’t sure what you’d like but I saw these and thought of you and so..” he paused to catch his breath and you reached your hand out to place over his, giving him a half smile, “Friends?” you said. Sirius nodded in return, handing over the box, “Friends.” Once you held the box in your hands, you started to unwrap the bow on the top of the box. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how he couldn’t keep still as he anticipated your reaction. Carefully, you pulled the lid off and you let out a small gasp as you looked in the box. Inside were a beautiful pair of earrings that had a gold wire wrapped around a deep red crystal. They seemed to shimmer in the reflection of the fire and you were in awe.

You put them back in the box and turned to face him once more, “I can’t accept these, it’s too much.” Sirius stepped back out of your reach in protest, “You’ve already taken them.” You rolled your eyes, gesturing towards him with the box in your hand, “Stop it, just take them back, it’s too much I mean it.” Once more, he denied your request and firmly told you, “As your friend, I insist you keep them.” You sighed in defeat and slouched down back into your seat, “Oh alright.” Sirius grinned in victory, “I’m glad you like them, so I’ll see you around then, eh (Y/L/N)?” You shook your head but were secretly smiling to yourself, “Sure thing Black.” You heard his footsteps retreating and then ascending up the stairs to the boys dormitories. Now that you were pretty much alone again, you pulled out the earrings once more to admire them, holding them in your hands and you had to urge to bring them up to hold against your chest. You’d never received such a gift before, you loved them. Maybe he really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings?

[ha-hatdog]

little one / daisuke kambe

i definitely did not swoon while writing this. again, i did not know if you wanted hcs or one shot but i'll go with one shot. this is a good time to post this since the latest episode showed pics of smol daisuke omg. also, the name of your son is kakeru - yes, as in kakeru from run with the wind lmao

and to those who are saying i should add read more to my long fics, i really want to but i don't have a laptop or computer. i write everything on my phone, on the tumblr app. so if you know how to add read more in posts using the app, then please do dm me. thank chu💛

requested by anon: one where daisuke and reader have a two year old son together? lots of fluff

UNEDITED

__

Your palm concealed your amused lips, a snort emanating from your wrinkled nose as you took in the sight before you.

Kambe Daisuke was a man of little words and little expressions, and even now, after being married to you for four years and having a son who was now at the age of two, that has not changed. He was still the stoic and cool detective millionaire you have met many years ago - which is exactly what makes the unfolding scene before you much more hilarious.

Monotonous Daisuke, the same man you had seen take down criminals twice his size, was haphazardly sprawled on your carpeted ground, arms and legs outstretched, cheek pressed flat against the material of the carpet as a smaller and cuter carbon copy of him perched comfortably on his back, oblivious to the position he had set his father on, doing nothing but lie down on his father's back and sleep soundly, eyes closed, snoring and wearing such an adorable sleeping face that it was difficult not to coo.

The sight alone was already adorably hilarious, but seeing the genuine distress on Daisuke's face had you doubling over, your palm muffling your laughter.

"Look at you," You whispered at him by the doorframe, your knees bent and your other hand sliding along the frame of the door. "You look so dumb, Daisuke."

"I'm happy at least you find this amusing, but I do not." Your husband responded back in an ired puff, azure eyes glaring at you from the floor. It took all of you not to swoon.

"Don't look at me like that, my love. I can't take you seriously when our son is using you as a mattress." Daisuke's glare intensified, but as your previous statement suggested, all purpose of threat was dulled by the position he was in. "How did you even get yourself in this situation?"

"I find it unnecessary to tell you." Answered Daisuke, and from how his cheeks tinged red, you could only assume it was something embarassing. "Will you help me, love? Take Kakeru off of my back."

You shifted your gaze back to your slumbering son, and a fond smile sprouted on your brims.

Sometimes you wonder how you were even able to make this precious, big eyed, nuzzling baby. He was an exact copy of Daisuke, not a single hint of your genes. Blank face, quiet, raven hair, blue eyes, the little shine in his eyes whenever he saw you - it was like seeing Daisuke when he was a child, and it was because of this fact that you were at least feeling a little bit alright with your son having no semblance with you.

"Kakeru," You whispered to your son as you stepped closer to your best boys with quiet footfalls, and he scrunched his face ay the brief interruption of your cooing voice. You stopped yourself from squishing his cute little face, and knelt down beside them. "Kake -"

Your sentence was cut off when you felt a hand under your knee. Immediately, Daisuke retracted his hand away, hurling your way a soft glare. "Watch where your knee is going."

You chuckled at his dilemma and reached down to stroke his head. "Mattresses don't talk, Daisuke."

"Normal people don't talk to mattresses." Countered Daisuke, huffing and averting his gaze away from you. You stifled your laughter as his pout grew more prominent. It might be very obvious already with how Daisuke has everything handed over to him with a single breath, but your husband absolutely hated losing in any forms ; even in your daily banter, he must always have the last word. People often mistakenly thought that you, being his darling wife that he had persistently courted for a whole year, would be exempted to this childish pettiness you consistently deny her allegations, firmly believing you were receiving the worse end of it. This man cannot forget the times you have successfully reigned victory over his own game, months or weeks, it never failed to be permanently ingrained in his mind ; and this resulted to puzzling moments which goes by a chronological sequence - a relatively normal day, an opportunity to divulge the opening you have unknowingly presented before his feet, and then comes his last word, to which he will remind you as your confused face stared back at him when his out of the blue statement has originally birthed from.

However, there was only one person who could defeat him at that, would never let him get the last word and that is your son Kakeru. As you stared at his sleeping face, you cannot help but smile as you reminiscent that particular day.

***

Haru Kato has been invited to your house to meet Kambe Kakeru. Daisuke has been mildly cross with Haru meeting his son because he was petty and said that Kakeru needed no other man than him but seeing that Daisuke has become good friends with Haru in the two years they were partners, you insisted that he meets him. It was already unfair that Haru had to wait until Kakeru was two to meet him, the first and last time he saw him being after you had given birth (Daisuke only let him have a glimpse then pushed him out of the hospital room because he doesn't want Kakeru thinking he was his father).

"Kakeru," You chided as you crouched beside your son who was hiding behind Daisuke's legs and peering at the gray haired male, eyes curious yet cautious. "Don't you want to meet Uncle Haru?"

Haru stepped closer to the three of you, bent down near Kakeru's height, and outstretched his hand for him to shake. "Hey there, Kakeru." Haru greeted with a smile.

Kakeru recoiled and hid himself further behind Daisuke, hands around his pants tightening. "Daddy," He whimpered. "Bad man."

Haru's face fell at the enunciation, and you covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. Daisuke stared blankly at Haru as his hand travelled behind his back to stroke Kakeru's head. "You heard my son. Get out of here, bad man." Daisuke uttered his command.

A tick mark appeared on Haru's forehead at Daisuke's vocalization and before things could escalate out of the power of your responsibility, you interjected, regaiming your proper posture and clasping your hands together. "Kakeru is just wary of Haru because this is the first time he's seeing him, no need to fight." You told them off.

"No, Haru is just naturally scary." Daisuke stated with bantering finality.

"This is coming from a man who barely smiles." Argued Haru, scowling.

"And this is coming from someone who seems to be making a living screaming at me." Countered Daisuke.

Kakeru's eyes widened at what his father had said and shot Haru a small glare, yet his stance never wavered from its hiding place. "He screams at daddy . . . " Murmured Kakeru in a thoughtful trance, and pointed at Haru, shocking all three of you. "D-Don't scream at daddy again!"

Alarm made its way to Haru's facr at the accusation. "No, I have not once yelled at your dad - "

Daisuke turned around and knelt in front of Kakeru. Daisuke stared into his son's eyes and Kakeru stared back. "Don't listen to him, Kakeru. You should never listen to him, never ever. He makes daddy get all angry when we're doing police missions together."

"O-Oi," Haru inserted, fuming. "You're the one who always makes me mad! Don't turn the child on me!"

But Kakeru was not listening to Haru, as his beloved father has told him. Kakeru nodded firmly, lips curling. "Yes, daddy." He vouched in determination.

"Daisuke, stop it." You chastised, sighing and turned to the other detective that was not using your son to his advantage. "Sorry about this, Haru. Kakeru really looks up to Daisuke so he does anything he tells him to."

Kakeru, all of a sudden, began trotting away from the three of you, leaving all of you confused. After a few minutes, Kakeru returned, a determined look on his face.

"Kakeru, sweetheart, where did you go?" You asked as you approached him. "It's rude to leave our guest hanging, you know."

"Fight bad man," You and Haru gasped in horror when your son suddenly brandished a gun to Haru, not just a toy, but a real one. His tiny hands trembled as he was not used to the weight of the metal weapon burdening his grasp, and he was still glaring at Haru. "I pew pew bad guy, mommy, like daddy do with bad guys!"

"Kakeru, where did you get that gun?" You questioned, alarmed and and genuinely frightened. You looked to your husband to assess his reaction, but much to your mortification, Daisuke looked calm as he always is, as if your son wasn't capable of hurting a person as of the moment. "Daisuke, what the hell?"

You let out a yelp when Kakeru turned to you, and in the process, turned the gun to you. "Bad word, Mommy." He scolded. "I don't like."

Daisuke drawled. "It's not a big deal."

Haru growled. "Your son has a weapon! How are you not freaking out?" He then turned to Kakeru and extended his hand. "Give me the gun, Kakeru. Give it."

But Kakeru shook his head defiantly. "No!"

Daisuke frowned at his wife and his partner. "Why are you making a big fuss about this?" He questioned. "It's unloaded and the safety is on."

At the mention of those, you and Haru felt a brief sense of relief until Haru spoke out, "Just because it's unloaded doesn't mean it's okay!"

"It's basically a toy." Retorted Daisuke.

You walked towards your husband and pulled at his ear. His face did not at all change, seemingly expecting this reaction from you. "Daisuke, where did he even get the gun? Has one of yours been just lying around his reach?" This concerned you. If your son was able to get a weapon easily, what more is your husband letting him get?

"I gave him one." Answered Daisuke.

"And why would you give our two year old a gun?" You snapped at him.

"Kakeru said he wanted to hold a gun. Just like you, I said no." Daisuke glanced over at Kakery who was watching the three of you curiously. "However - " He turned back to you, and looked away. " - he's too adorable, as you might say."

You and Haru, in unison, slapped your hands to your forehead, exasperated with Daisuke's response.

"Kakeru probably looked sad when Daisuke said no." Haru remarked. "I can't blame him to be honest."

"He's spoiling him in ways too many." You added, and removed your hand from your forehead. "Daisuke, I know you love our son and pampering him but he can't just have a gun."

"Why, mommy?" You all looked at Kakeru, and immediately understood why Daisuke was forced to give him an unloaded gun. "Not love me?"

"A-Ah," You shrieked, horrified. "The secret move!"

Haru gulps. "This boy knows a little too much about his abilities."

"Even if it doesn't have any bullets?" Daisuked asked you.

You hurtled him a glower. "Even if it doesn't have any bullets and yes, even if it has the safety lock on." You immediately added when you saw Daisuke open his mouth.

Said man huffed. "Fine. If I knew you were going to react like this, I wouldn't have done it."

You and Haru watched as Daisuke knelt down in front of your son. Kakeru stared at his father, eyes wide and admiring. Daisuke lets out a sigh and extended his palm, "Give."

Kakeru shook his head vigorously, and his face scrunched as if he was going to cry but was trying to suppress it. "Daddy no love me too?"

You waited for what Daisuke would do, but he did not move. More seconds has passed, and he was yet to move. You and Haru exchanged glances before you moved over to him, checking him out. "Daisuke, love, what - Daisuke?"

A torn man was what Daisuke coukd be called at that moment. His face was deadpanned, but being with him longer than anyone else, you were able to pick up the small difference his expression held right now.

"U-Uh, Daisuke, are you okay?" You questioned in a form of a titter, eyebrows connected. "Daisuke?"

Haru walked over to Daisuke and leaned to look at him. "A-Ah, he looks like he's suffering."

"No, no," Denied Daisuke, frown deepening as he tried not to fall for his son's adorable trap. "Daddy loves you. But mommy and I agreed that you can't have that kind of toy, Kakeru."

"But," You all drew in a breath Kakeru hugged the gun to his chest, tears prodding the corners of his eyes. "My favorite toy is this."

"But why that, baby?" You asked softly. "You have so many other toys. Why that one?" You recalled the heaping amount of toys Daisuke bought for Kakeru.

Kakeru pouted, cheeks puffing. You couldn't help but imagine little Daisuke like that. "Because Daddy gave me this." Said Kakeru. "I want to be police, like daddy."

Daisuke turned to you, the internal struggle in his eyes prominent but you shook your head at him. Your husband sighed and looked at Kakeru again. He put his hand on top his head and ruffled his hair. Kakeru closed his eyes at the affection, welcoming it and his rigid frame loosening. Kakeru opened his eyes and let out a small noise of surprise as Daisuke wiped a stray tear from his cheek.

From what you can deduce, you knew Daisuke was about to say something brilliant to your son, to teach him something valuable. But before Daisuke could even open his mouth, Haru cut him off -

"A gun doesn't make a cop, Kakeru. It's the sense of justice to do the right thing and keeping people safe does." Haru then proceeded to take out his badge and handing it to Kakeru with a large smile on his face. "You can borrow this for a while, while I'm still here. As much as I want to give it to you, I need it to do my job as a cop. But maybe in the future, you can get one of your own. You'll be just like your dad."

You were impressed by what Haru had said, but Kakeru - his eyes were wide and glittering with admiration as he stared at Haru, all fear of the bad man gone. You swear that there was light all around Haru if you're ever seeing through Kakeru's eyes. But one member of the group disliked this mild change, and it was your irritated and pouting husband.

You covered your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. Daisuke was obviously feeling jealous of Haru now that his son was ignoring him - the emotion only worsening when Kakeru took the badge from Haru and dropped the gun on the ground and stared at the shiny object, whispering, "Uwahh,"

A cloud of dread hung over Daisuke and you patted his back in comfort. "There, there, Daisuke, he's just making a friend."

"But why with Haru?" Grumbled Daisuke, sulking. "And why is he looking at him like that? I should be the only one he's looking at like that. You too, I guess."

You let out a sigh. "You're really jealous when it comes to me and Kakeru."

Haru looked proud of the achievement and improvement he had made with Kakeru, his hands over his hips. "Looks pretty cool, right?"

Kakeru nodded enthusiastically, examining the badge thoroughly. "Very cool." He murmured, and then stared at Haru intently, lips pursing. "I wanna be like Mister Haru when I grow up!"

That was the first time you have seen Daisuke speechless and the last time Haru had seen Kakeru for six months. You were certain Daisuke did not speak to Haru for about two weeks, only communicating through nods and grunts, and Haru did not know whether to feel relieved or irritated at that. Maybe a little bit of both.

But, that was the only time Daisuke did not have the last word.

Kakeru certainly has Daisuke around his little finger.

***

You reached forward and shook Kakeru awake softly. "Kakeru," You chimed, and he scrunched his face again, not wanting to be disturbed sleeping on Daisuke's back. "Wake up, baby,"

Kakeru let out a small groan, and slowly opened his eyes. A familiar pair of blue hues greeted you, the same eyes that you wake up to every morning. Kakeru let out a big yawn and rubbed his left eye with his hand, groaning out, "Mommy," He then looked down at Daisuke who was craning his head to watch his son. "And Daddy."

You smiled at him and opened your arms, hands making grabby movements towards your two year old. "Come here, baby," You cooed sweetly.

Kakeru perked up and a glimmer crossed his eyes, the same glimmer when Daisuke had seen you for the first time. You could never forget that time, and you can never find it more beautiful than seeing that in your son's eyes whenever you offer him affection. Immediately, the two year old scrambled out of Daisuke's back - Daisuke grunted as his little feet padded on his back a few times as he struggled to get to your lap and arms - and sunk in your embrace. Your eyes grew gentler as Kakeru snuggled closer to your chest, cheek rubbing on your clothing and his hands clinging to the fabric.

"Are you tired, baby?" You questioned as you stroked the back of his head, finger running over his hair.

Kakeru nodded tiredly. "Daddy played cops and robbers with me."

"Let me guess, you were the cop and he was the robber?" You commented.

"Yes, and I captured Daddy many, many times." Answered Kakeru, proud with himself.

"Oh, is that so? That's amazing, baby. You're going to be a great cop like Daddy." You then turned over to Daisuke who was now recovering from being used as a bed. He dusted himself as he sat properly on the ground in front of you. "Is that why you were under him? Because you were arrested?"

Daisuke looked away. "I think I need to teach him how to properly apprehend a criminal."

You giggled. "When he's older, Daisuke."

He faced you with a sharp twist of his face, expression determined. "He won't grow older."

You frowned. "What?"

You and Daisuke looked down to see Kakeru fighting the need to sleep, his eyes opening and closing.

"I don't . . . " Daisuke trailed off, and a trace of embarassment scrawled on his face. You rarely see your husband embarassed and so you waited for him to continue. " . . . I don't want Kakeru to grow up."

You shook your head lightly, smile broadening. "Daisuke," You whispered, and when he did not look at you, you called him again. "Love, look at me."

He did so, and with one hand, you cradled his face. "I know how you feel. I understand where you're coming from. But - " You mused. " - don't you want to see our son grow up to be a fine man? To be the person he aspires to be? To be like you?"

Daisuke stares back at you, and took a gander at Kakeru who was beginning to fall asleep. He lets out a sigh and nodded in agreement, "I guess that would be pleasant to see."

"And he'll marry a great girl." You added.

"Marry mommy," Kakeru drawled. He was forcing himself to stay awake but his eyes was not cooperating with his spirits.

Daisuke scooted closer to both of you and brushed his knuckles on Kakeru's forehead. "Marry mommy? You're going to take mommy away from me?"

Kakeru shook his head. "Marry someone like mommy," One of his hand extended and took hold of Daisuke's shirt, the other still clinging to you. Kakeru looked up at both of you, still comfortable in your lap and chest. His eyes, again, were bright. "I want family like me, and mommy, and daddy."

Warmth swathed your chest, your heart melting. You took a gander to Daisuke and saw that the expression he wore - love, care, and the promise of sacrifice when it comes to it and when he looked at you, the emotions never faltered, and they only grew stronger. Sometimes you wonder just how much Daisuke loved you and Kakeru.

"A family like the three of us." Kakeru let go of your clothing and showed three fingers of his and quickly pressed the three digits together. "A happy family."

Kakeru fell asleep after his statement. His arm dropped and his head moved to one side, his eyes closed and lips parted.

"We should tuck him in." Daisuke declared.

"Yeah," You agreed and Daisuke helped you stand up, making sure you two aren't waking your sleeping son. You moved him to his bed, setting him down the mattress gently. Daisuke took the liberty of putting the blanket over Kakeru. Your child shifted in his spot, and cuddled to his pillow.

You sat on the bed beside Kakeru, observing your son. "Already tired when the morning has just barely started." You chuckled.

"He said he needed practice to be a cop, and I couldn't say no." Daisuke inserted.

"You can never say no to Kakeru anyways." You jested.

"Same with you." Daisuke knelt down beside the bed, arms resting on the mattress and his head level with his son's. He admired Kakeru, his deadpan expression gone and a small smile on his face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Kakeru's cheek, lingering for a while before pulling away.

Daisuke faced you and you raised an eyebrow as he took your hand.

"You have given me a beautiful son. Thank you so much, my love."

[nadisabug]

Princess

Summary: Y/n is not prepared to find out why she has been picking fights with Zuko. Prompts: 42. Character A: Fuck. Oh, fuck. I’m in love with Character B! Character C: Yeah. A: Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?! C: What?! I thought you knew! 31. "I'm so in love with you it hurts." Fandom: ATLA Pairing: Sokka x reader Warnings: cursing A/N: Ah! Here is my second piece for the @fromthewatertribe‘s event! (also gonna tag @astroninaaa jic!!) I loved writing this, I hope I did the prompts justice! I hope you enjoy guys!

"Why don't you get off your pretty little ostrichhorse and face the fact that we're not going to treat you like royalty," I spat angrily, glaring at Zuko.

We were fighting. Again.

Ever since he joined us after we defeated combustion man we had been getting into it.

A lot.

"Says Princess," Zuko scoffed and rolled his eyes.

I felt fire surge up to my face. I opened and closed my mouth, completely unsure of what to say. That was Sokka's nickname for me and only Sokka was allowed to call me that. I was so floored that he would bring that up that the only thing I could shout back at him was, "You are the most despicable person I have ever met!" Fucking lame, I thought to myself.

"Tell me something I don't know," Zuko quipped. His responses were so easy and calm, he wasn't riled up in the least bit. It bothered me that I was so emotional and he wasn’t. It was like he didn't even care.

So I went for a low blow that I knew would set him off.

"Oh poor baby Zuzu, playing the martyr-"

"Don't call me that!" He nearly screamed losing all of his composure. He lunged towards me, flames erupting from his closed fists.

"Okay that's enough!" Sokka strolled in between the both of us, putting his arms up as if that would stop us from tearing each other to pieces. "Zuko, you come with me. We'll go hunting together. Princ- Y/n, you stay here with Toph and cool down."

"I don't need to cool down!" I shouted. I winced when I realized how loud I was. "Fine," I sighed and let my shoulders slump. I watched as Zuko and Sokka walked off to go hunt, leaving me behind with Toph.

It wasn't like I didn't like being with Toph, I loved her, I just... Something was bothering me about that fight.

I turned around and sat next to Toph. She was sitting there, nonchalantly picking her feet. I supposed she had been doing that the entire time we had been fighting.

"What's up with you today, grumpy pants?" Toph asked and elbowed me in the ribcage.

"Ow," I grumbled and rubbed my side. She had good aim for a blind girl. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"When will you people learn that I can tell when you lie," Toph sighed dramatically. She scooted closer to me and whispered in my ear. "Is it a secret? You can tell me, everyone else is gone."

She was right, Aang was training with Katara and now Sokka was off hunting with Zuko. The later part may have been why I was angry. I didn't know why but I felt this intense jealously that Sokka had asked Zuko to go hunting with him instead of me.

I huffed and scooted away from Toph. "I'm just jealous Sokka took Zuko instead of me," I answered truthfully. "I don't know why it bothers me so much though."

"Really?" Toph deadpanned. She paused for a second and when I didn't answer she continued. "Do you even know why you started fighting in the first place?"

I rolled my eyes at her tone. She was probably just trying to make fun of me for being upset over something so trivial, or because I couldn't figure out why it bothered me. "Yes really, I'm jealous. I always go with Sokka when we hunt." I purposefully ignored her second question, though, because I honestly couldn't remember what started the fight.

"I know that, I meant-"

"And why did he take Zuko anyways? He always says that you have to trust you hunting partner with your life, does that mean he trusts Zuko more than me now?"

"I meant-"

"After Boiling Rock they just seem so close, and about that too, I can't believe he took Zuko and not me with him. I knew how important that mission was to him, and he always takes me on his missions."

"Oh whatever," Toph gave up on trying to talk and listened to me rant instead.

"And I guess I am just so upset because usually we sit next to each other during the night around the campfire but now he's sitting with Zuko instead. You remember that time I accidentally fell asleep on him? Do you think that's why he doesn't sit next to me anymore?" I barely paused to get a response before continuing, but it was okay because Toph made no move to answer. "Like I thought that was so nice but what if I snored or something or he just doesn't like me and that was so annoying and-"

I stopped. Something I said had caught my attention.

What if he doesn't like me?

For some reason I felt like it meant more than just like. Like... I wanted him to like me. A lot. Like more than normal. I wanted me to be his favorite person and I wanted him to choose me first and-

"Fuck. Ooooohhhh, fuck. I'm in love with Sokka," I cried out, throwing my head into my hands.

Toph had since begun picking at her feet and didn't even look up when she responded. "Yeah? And?"

"You knew?" I gasped and whirled on her. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"What?! I thought you knew!"

"How was I supposed to know?"

"Are you kidding me? They're your feelings!"

I didn't have a good comeback for that. So, we lapsed into silence and I began to think about my newfound feelings. It actually started to explain a lot. That's why my face burned every time he sparred with Zuko, shirtless. That's why I felt so at home next to him. That's why I was always so angry at Zuko, I was scared that he was replacing me.

"I need to apologize to Zuko," I mumbled softly.

"Yeah you do, grumpy pants."

"Thanks, Toph," I rolled my eyes. I was about to reprimand her for not being a more supportive friend when I spotted Zuko and Sokka coming back. Still embarrassed over my outburst, I pulled my knees to my chest and hid my head under my arms.

"That was quick." Toph said.

"Yeah, flamey-o hotman over here scared everything away with his magic whoosh powers. I'll have to go out later," Sokka replied. "I'm going to fish for now."

I peeked out from behind my arms to see Sokka stalk off, leaving Zuko awkwardly standing in the middle of the clearing.

I sighed. Now was a good a time as any.

I stood up and walked up to Zuko. "Zuko, can we talk?"

"What, want to yell at me more, princess," he sneered angrily.

I sighed. "No, I want to apologize," I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck and looked off to the side. I couldn't meet Zuko's gaze.

"Let's walk," he nodded and began to lead the way. I followed him, leaving Toph behind.

Once we were a good ways away, Zuko looked at me. "Big change from earlier, wanting to apologize."

"Yeah, I did some thinking."

"Cooled down a bit?" Zuko suggested.

"Fuck off," I growled and rolled my eyes. Zuko raised his hands in defense.

"Sorry, you're right you didn't cool off at all."

"You are making it really hard to be nice, you know," I said and shot him a glare.

"Sorry, sorry," he relented waving his hands. "You're right, I'm still in the mindset from earlier. So. Why are you apologizing?"

"Well, I picked the fight. It was kinda my fault."

"True."

"Zuko," I sighed.

"FIne, fine."

"I just want to say I figured out why I am picking out fights with you and I want to say I'm going to try to do it less."

There was a beat of silence. I looked at Zuko to see his response but his gaze was unreadable.

"And?"

"What?" I responded quickly, defensive over my lame apology.

"You're not going to tell me why?"

I flushed red and turned away. "It's personal."

"It's not personal when you're picking fights with me over it," he responded, raising his voice a little. I could hear his frustration, but I really didn't want to tell him.

"Well it's a personal reason I'm not obligated to tell you everything about my life."

"And I just said if it's the reason you're picking fights with me it's not personal anymore."

"That doesn't even make sense," I bit back, matching his volume.

"Just tell me!"

"Fine it's cause I like Sokka!"

"Okay and?"

I blinked. "What do you mean 'and,' I just told you I like Sokka! That's a big deal!"

"Not really," Zuko shrugged. "I mean we all already knew that."

"You did?"

"You didn't?"

"No of course not how could I?"

"Well I mean it was pretty fucking obvious," Zuko scoffed and folded his arms. He was so blase about it it blew my mind.

"It was obvious?" I repeated what he said, still unable to grasp it.

"Yeah, but moving past the fact that you're an oblivious idiot, how does you liking Sokka have anything to do with me?"

"Oh," I said softly, my cheeks reddening. "Um, well I'm kinda jealous. Of how close you two are."

Zuko was silent for a long time so I looked up at him to see what was the matter. When I did, I just saw him staring incredulously at me.

"We're just friends. It's not like I want his tongue in my mouth like you do," he finally said, laughing.

"Zuko!" I shouted, my face growing even more red.

"Well it's true," he shrugged nonchalantly. "So that's why you're so upset at me all the time."

I shrugged meekly, "Pretty much yeah."

Zuko nodded resolutely. "Then let's help you get this boy."

"What?"

"Did I stutter? I'm going to help you confess and start dating Sokka."

"I don't need any help!"

"Obviously you do if you haven't realized your feelings until now," Zuko half snorted in response. He seemed to find this situation so funny.

"Listen, I can confess on my own time okay," I said resolutely.

With that, Zuko shrugged and walked away. I sighed, but let him, knowing I didn't have much more to say anyway. I went back to camp and sat down next to Toph, talking to her about nothing.

Later, when Sokka came back from fishing, he was soaked and shirtless, a bad combination for my heart. Since I realized I liked him, it was like my feelings were magnified. My face burned red and I couldn't bear to look at him.

"Look what Katara did to me!" He whined once he was in earshot.

"What did you do to her?" Zuko responded airily, not even turning to look at him. I wished I could be that easy going around Sokka.

"Doesn't matter," Sokka waved him off. I saw Sokka look at me and the heat in my chest flared. I looked down quickly, breaking eye contact as soon as we made it. "You and Princess make up?"

I heard Zuko rumble an assent then the topic was dropped. Zuko and Sokka eventually wandered off, talking to each other.

"You're lucky he's as dense as you are. I can't even see and you're making it more obvious than a platypusbear in a pottery shop," Toph smirked at me.

"Oh shut up," I mumbled. I looked up to see Sokka walking back towards me. I mentally hoped that he wasn't coming to talk to me, but when he stopped in front of me I knew my worst fears had come true.

"Hey, can we talk, Princess?"

"Uh, I am actually talking to Toph right now-" I nervously began but Toph cut me off.

"Oh, we just finished. Go have your talk, Princess," Toph pitched her voice up at the end of the sentence, obviously mocking me.

Left without any other excuses, I took Sokka's outstretched hand and followed him to go talk.

We walked all the way down to the beach, where no one else was, before he finally broke the silence.

"So, Zuko said you wanted to talk to me," he finally said, looking down and over at me.

"He did?" I was caught off-guard by that. Why would...

"Yeah, he said it was about the reason why you're fighting with him so much."

If thoughts could kill a man then our party would be down one member. "I can't believe he said that," I groaned and threw my head into my hands.

"So... you don't want to talk to me?"

"No!" I looked up quickly and met Sokka's confused gaze. "I do want to talk to you just not about that!"

"But you talked to Zuko about it?" He asked, half a question half a statement.

"Yeah," I agreed slowly. Sokka smiled softly, sending my heart up into my throat.

"While I am a little jealous, I am actually kinda glad. You don't know how hard its been, what with my best friend and my girl not getting along."

I stopped breathing for a second.

"Your girl?" I whispered breathily.

At my statement, Sokka blanched and began to stammer. "I, uh, I mean a girl that I know not specifically my girl I mean because I can't own a girl you know women's rights and everything equality yeah um so yeah I didn't mean my girl yeah of course not."

I smiled softly and began to open my mouth, but Sokka cut me off.

"I just mean its so hard when your two best friends are fighting because that's what you are to me, just a best friend."

At that my smile fell. "Oh," I said softly, turning away. I began to think that he may have actually just misspoke and that was all.

Suddenly, I felt Sokka grab my arms and pull me in, wrapping his arms around my waist. I looked up at him in surprise but his eyes were closed. He rested his forehead against mine.

"Aw man, don't make that face, I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. It's just... I just... I just love you so much it hurts when you look like that... don't hate me," he added the last part on quickly and softly, scrunching his eyes up.

"How could I, when I love you so much it hurts too?" I whispered breathlessly.

And then, I kissed him. He didn't react at first, but after a moment he began kissing me back ferociously. I reciprocated immediately, kissing him with an intensity of months of pent up affection.

We only parted when we both couldn't breathe.

Panting, we leaned into each other. My arms around his neck, his around my lower back.

"I am considerably less mad at Zuko now," I said happily.

"Yeah, what was with all of that?" Sokka replied, pulling his head away to look at me properly.

"Oh," I flushed for what felt like the millionth time this day. "I was maybe a little jealous."

Sokka laughed but stopped quickly when I glared at him.

"Y/n, don't be jealous. You'll always be my Princess."

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Surprise...?

One year after the happenings with The Company, you and Alex have finally found kind of an equilibrium. You two have bought a house together in some white-picked-fence neighborhood and you were even thinking about adopting a pet, to fill out the house. Well, you're gonna fill the house alright, but not with an animal.

You've been under the wind for a while now and it was frustrating.

You were temporarily the only breadwinner in the house, while Alex tried to have his old job back, and responding to a dispatch call while retching on your toilet wasn't the greatest feeling to start the day with.

You stopped a fight between two very angry, very 'I want to see your manager' looking women. You had to do a welfare check for an old man that almost shot you in the head with a sawed off shotgun. You had to respond to a domestic violence report only to discover it was for a couple really into roleplay.

You were tired.

Legs like jelly, you barely managed to reach for the bathroom before you could empty the contents of your stomach against the porcelain for the upteenth time that week.

Alex didn't know any of that and for a good reason: he already crucifixed himself for not being able to regain his job or any job really, because of his past. He didn't have to worry about your health, either. He was already a sweetheart with you as is.

It was just a stomach bug, you had worse.

Besides, Alex was busying himself at home while you were back on the field: he kept the house clean, did the laundry and, especially, he finally learned to cook something other than 'reheat bought stuff into the microwave'.

The first dishes were… okay. Edible.

But lately he managed to make something actually delicious… and it all ended up in the gutter, after you had another episode.

You came out of the precinct bathroom and flopped onto the nearest chair, at dispatch's station. "Ugh, someone got smashed yesterday or what?" You heard one of your coworkers joke and you groaned back to him, massaging your aching stomach. "Shuddup Mitchell... it's a stomach bug I can't shake off," you whined a little, making the man smirk. "Oh, so you don't wanna meet the recent reject from K-9? He was so eager…!" and a yapping sound made you perk up again. At your feet was a German Shepherd puppy, the fluffiest and cutest you ever seen.

Your eyes lit up as you bent down, meeting with the jumpy, shaky, ecstatic pup. “Oh my God you so cute! Awww yiss you aaare!” your voice came out as a high-pitched mess, almost mimicking the puppy’s yapps.

Your hands went to grab him underneath his front paws and hoisted him up, laughing as the little doggie started to lick your face.

Needless to say, not even ten minutes later you were sitting on the chair with the now sleepy pup melting into the crook of your elbow.

He had his front paws folded on themselves and he was nuzzling against your chest with small little snores coming from his nose. "He sure warmed up to you quickly!” Mitchell laughed, seeing the dog relaxed “Ready to bring him home already?"

Mitch knew of the cat-dog debacle in your home, so it came natural for you to ask him to keep him in the K-9 kennels for a little while. “I still have to speak with Alex about it… but I’m sure he would love him. Look at him…! Aww sho tired, good boy!” your attention went back to the puppy again, feeling him turn a little into your baby-hold.

You were having the time of your life, for once not even remembering your terrible mornings. “Aww, you’re practicing?” a voice joked and you moved your head to see one of your friends from dispatch, Lauren, approaching her desk.

You smiled, confused. “Practicing?” “Yeah! For the baby!” she replied to your question, pointing a finger towards the sleepy puppy in the crook of your elbow.

Baby?

“What are you talking about?” your voice came out with a slight hint of fear in its tone and Lauren giggled, putting her coffee down just so she could grab her headset. “Morning sickness, it never changes! In my second pregnancy it was even worse! If you want, I can give you a recipe for a miraculous smoothie."

You froze on the spot, her words hitting you so hard they almost knocked you over; all slowly came together with the nausea first thing in the morning, the strange tiredness, the moodiness that seemed to anticipate a shark week that never came.

Lauren noticed your uncomfortableness and furrowed her brows. “What’s wrong?” “N-no!...no I’m...it’s- I've changed pills recently, I’m not...” you lied through your teeth, eyes large as eggs and skin going a little pale.

You felt nauseous again, for different reasons.

You didn't even think about the possibility of…

Yeah your shark week still wasn't nowhere to be found, but you were only just a little late, it happened all the time. You were just...stressed.

That wasn’t the time nor the place to be pregnant. If you got stuck in maternity, how would you two pay for bills and food?

And Alex...oh your poor darling, after a year he still wasn't over Cameron's death and you wouldn't blame him.

You couldn't give him another heartache like that, giving him another child like some kind of substitute.

He would start spiraling down again like after everything ended with the Company, when he finally stopped worrying and let himself grieve.

You couldn’t do that to him, no no no...

With panic starting to fizzle in the back of your brain you watched Lauren, who looked amused. "Oh I get it! Yeah, changing those is always a pain…!" she shrugged before taking a sip of her coffee, booting up her computer.

Even Mitchell felt the awkwardness of the moment, because he broke it by leaning forward and grabbing the pup from your arm. “I’ll keep him for a little more, alright! No problem…!” the man smiled forcefully at you, silently asking if you were fine.

You were not fine.

The doubt had been planted.

On your way home you stopped by the nearest pharmacy and after grabbing an antiemetic from over the counter, you stopped in front of the rows and rows of pregnancy tests, uneasy and confused.

Old style? Electronic? Did the type change something? Did it matter?

"Fuck this…" you muttered as you bought a random one.

During the rest of the drive home you felt that little plastic thing weigh on your passenger seat like a block of cement, the pastel-colored box peaking through the paper bag, laughing at you with it’s ‘oh the joy of motherhood!’ packaging design.

Of course if things would’ve been different, you would’ve been thrilled. Having a family with the love of your life was something you always desired.

You would’ve been so happy to give Alex another baby, give Cameron a little brother or sister. Unite their fractured family once again.

Instead, you now had to suffer all that psychological turmoil, because of the Company.

Even after their defeat, they managed to give anguish to you all.

When you finally arrived home you parked in the driveway and waited for a second, for two. Waiting for someone to pop out from outside the frame and yell "That was a joke, there's the camera!".

Nothing moved but you, as you got off the car and trudged inside.

You passed the front door and approached the small table near the entrance, slowly removing part of your gear, one piece at the time.

The radio, the gun, the handcuffs with their keys, your hat and your boots. Everything found its place while your mind was still in utter chaos.

The only thing still glued to your fingers was the small brown paper bag from the pharmacy. "Welcome back honey!" You heard Alex’s voice come out of nowhere, right next to your ear, and you gave out a shrill yelp, grasping at your chest like trying to stop your heart from pounding out of it. "Alex!" You heaved as you turned, seeing him grinning down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "For fuck's sake you gave me a heart attack! Stop being sneaky when I come home!" You added, watching him now starting to laugh uncontrollably, a half apron around his hips and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He was cooking you dinner, as always… sweet bastard. "One of these days I'm gonna shoot you by accident–" "That's why I wait until you're unarmed…!" Alex chuckled back, leaning down to kiss you hello.

You replied in kind, sighing just a little against his lips when they met. "What's that?" you felt him reach for your hand, grabbing the paper bag from your grasp. You came back to reality and his hand on your hip suddenly felt uncomfortable.

You immediately reached back and yanked the bag from him before he could even look inside, taking your forbidden loot to your chest. "Ladies have their secrets…!" You tried to joke, to sell him the lie as best as you could.

You couldn't, but he didn't inquire for the moment. Alex only rose an eyebrow and watched you with his interrogation gaze, making you squirm a little. "Don’t look at me that way, mister! You don’t have to know all that happens to my little lady down there!" you tried to double down on being light and jokey, maybe letting a little frustration come through.

It was a half-truth, was it not? "Well I would love to be let in the loop… Maybe I could help you out with that," he spoke softly, his voice in a good spot between affectionate and erotic.

Out of instinct you took one step backwards, away from him. "No no! No one but my eyes have permission to gaze upon the horrors of some yeast infection...or shit like that" while holding the bag closer, you put a hand on his chest to push him away. “I’ll handle it...just…” your eyes wandered for an instant, thinking. “Just think of this a ‘biohazard zone’ for a couple of days, ok?” your free hand now waved in front of your crotch, making him chuckle. “As long as I can kiss you, I don’t have a problem with that,” he replied, stealing another quick peck from your lips. “Dinner’s almost ready hun, go get changed.” Alex then moved away, towards the kitchenette of your lovely home.

You didn’t wait more than a second before bolting up the stairs to the bathroom, clutching the box through the brown paper. For a moment you remained impressed by your bullshitting ability.

You bullshitted your way out of that situation like Michael Scofield strolled in and out of his jail cell at Fox River (Sucre told you several times about that at every chance he got, when you invited the whole gang over for the holidays).

Closing the door behind you, you aimed for the sink counter and dumped the content of the bag on top of, grabbing the furiatingly pale box and almost tearing it open. Your fingers trembled when you finally grabbed the white-and-pink stick.

It felt like a murder weapon, in your hands. “Ok...how do I…” you mumbled, scared.

You never even think about researching it, it was your very first encounter with something like that. Did you have to...stick it in?

You grabbed the flimsy instruction papers from deep inside the box and opened it, trying to find the right language to read it.

Oh…

You peed on one side and see the result on the other.

Simple, right?

Sure, technically it was as basic as it could come, but no one prepared you for the longest. Three minutes. Of your life.

You sat on the toilet after you did the do, holding the test flat as it was written and watching intently at the little white window.

You saw the first line starting to appear, coloring in a light blue, and your stomach started to churn again. “Please stop there, stop there, c’mon it's just a stomach bug, c’mon c’mon…!” you begged the little demonic stick, your knuckles turning pale for the sheer force you used to hold it.

Your blood thickened in your veins, when the second little line started to appear, the color deepening by the second.

"Oh no."

Oh no indeed. You had to call someone...and your mind immediately picked the best number to call.

"Thank you for coming... I didn't– I don't know what to do."

Sara Tancredi had sat herself in front of you, in the small diner you chose for your encounter.

Little one-year-old Michael had been sleeping in his stroller from the moment he and his mother came in. "No problem, I was around!" The woman smiled at you, her eyes already scanning you.

She saw the paleness of anxiety, cold sweat and dark circles. And the way you grasped at a small brown box like it contained a rabid beast. "What's the problem that Alex isn't allowed to know about?" Sara immediately asked and you shrank in your seat, looking guilty. "Why you thought–" "We're in a public place outside his usual zone, away from your place of work where he sometimes surprises you and you didn't explained over the phone while he was at home," she never dropped the smile, watching you with her seemingly sweet eyes...but you knew there was a tigress behind the gentle façade. "I…" "I've been a drug addict for a good portion of my life...and on the run the rest of it. I can recognize the signs, Y/n. Just tell me, I'm the last person who would judge you."

Slowly your fingers let go of the brown paper and pushed it towards her, across the table. Sara grabbed it, confused, and gasped a little when she saw the pregnancy test box. "You mean…?" She whispered, opening the box and immediately looking at the result window. "I had this stomach bug and–" "how many days are you late?" Sara immediately asked and you blinked, counting mentally. "Five-no, six days. It happens all the time, I didn't think I could be…" your voice trailed off as your favorite Doc smiled even brighter, letting the text down to hold your hands. "Is wonderful! Aw I'm so happy for–" "Sara, is not wonderful…!" You heaved, clawing at her hands. "I'm the only one with a job, a dangerous job. And-and Alex is still mourning his son, how can I...just waltz in and tell him 'here take a replacement'! I... don't know how he would react…"

Silence fell between you two for a long instant, where you felt ready to vomit.

You weren't ready for any answer, really. You didn't want Alex to know and you felt repulsion at the thought of aborting Alex's child, making him lose another.

Then, Sara sighed, patting your hands. "Listen... keeping this a secret is horrendous, for both you and Alex. You have to tell him." The woman tried to find your eyes, pulling at your hands to grab your attention. "Everything could happen, Y/n, especially in your line of work. What if you got wounded while hiding your pregnancy and the first doctor Alex will speak to will make his condolences because your child died? It could lead to a lot more drama…" Sara's usually bright eyes turned dark a little, her expression souring. "If… I never told Michael about his son, he would've died without knowing it... and I plan on telling my son who his father was. Please tell him, Y/n. He's a smart man, you will work this through as a couple…" The good doctor then smiled again, shaking the melancholy off her shoulders. "Think about it, if you decide to keep it, Mike will have a friend to play with!"

You had to wait at least three more weeks for your plan to work out.

The first week and a half were spent building up the courage to make the announcement.

In the remaining time, you studied on the internet how to do it in the best way.

Eating anti-emetic pills as if it was candy, you lied through your teeth when Alex asked if your little lady felt better, telling him that yes, you felt better.

You tried to act natural, but the more time passed, the more you felt sick and the more time you spent evading Alex, knowing he would grill an answer out of you if he ever suspected something.

After work, you spent as much time as possible driving around searching for the items you needed.

Sara agreed to accompany you to your gynecologist, making it look like a girls' day out. You and your baby were healthy, the doctor assured you, and the pregnancy was going well. "How come hubby's not here?" The doctor asked and you choked on your saliva. "W-well I'm... I'm planning a surprise for him and-" "aww dear that's so nice! What about taking the baby's first photo to add to the surprise?" The man cheered, prepping the machine.

Your hands shook around the freshly printed black and white photo, Sara laughing at your side and telling you to breathe.

You practically sat in front of the entrance door when you bought online one of the items you needed, grabbing the Amazon box like Gollum would do with his precious, running upstairs where you hid all away in your closet.

Then, THE Sunday morning came.

You two had a really intense, really intimate encounter the night before and Alex was still asleep on his side of the bed. His naked body was always a pleasure to see first thing in the morning, you thought as you rolled over to give him a soft kiss on his cheek. "Breakfast in bed…?" You asked in a whisper, obtaining a low 'yah' muffled in the pillow.

With a little chuckle you kissed him again, this time searching for his lips. “Stay here, I’ll do it.” and then you got off the bed, walking downstairs towards the kitchenette.

Everything had been hidden the night before in strategic places, knowing you'd be the first to come and open the cupboards: there sat a new mug you bought for the occasion, with a cheerful 'good morning handsome' written on the side.

As you grabbed it, you smiled a little when you read the other phrase etched and colored on the inside of the mug.

You're going to be a dad.

Heart, heart, heart.

Then, behind it, you grabbed a pair of boxes. One contained a shirt that you immediately donned, bold text reciting 'sending backup' on your chest.

The second remained closed and found its place on the tray you prepared on the island.

Coffee was made, mugs were filled and a plate of cookies was strategically placed on top of the thin box. Then up you went towards upstairs, where Alex was still enveloped in the blankets like a tired mummy.

You smiled against your anxiety, feeling your hands tremble while holding the tray and the teaspoons inside the mugs clinked as you approached.

You tried to remember Sara’s words, he loved you and you would work that through, as you put down the tray near the end of the bed, but when you bent down you felt your stomach churn again, reminding you that yes, you forgot to buy new antiemetics.

Grin and bear, grin and bear… “Good morning…!” you called in a little singsong voice, feeling your heart stop pounding in your ears when he opened his wonderful, glassy-looking blue eyes, still sleepy but oh so shiny. Gemstones filled with entire oceans. “G’morning honey…” he replied, voice husky and a little gruff, stretching his neck to reach for your lips.

The kiss had been gentle, sweet and warm, his lips still soft from a whole night of good sleep. “Coffee’s ready, c’mon...I brought up your favorite cookies, too.” you moved aside, letting him sit up on the mattress, but instead reached for your hand and pulled you closer for another barrage of soft little pecks. “Mmmh ‘m up,” he mumbled between kisses, eyes closed and body one step closer to fall asleep again.

Oh no you didn’t go through all that trouble for him to just sleep on it..! “You’re not up…! C’mon sleepyhead, before it gets cold!” you chuckled, sincerely amused by his weak try in seducing you back to sleep.

Alex huffed and almost dragged himself to sit up, scratching at his collarbone for an instant before his eyes would finally take in the content on the tray. “What’s the occasion?” he smiled confusedly, brows furrowed as he grabbed the new mug, chuckling as he read the outside.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, facing him. “Well, we’ve been in kinda of a rough patch, lately...with too much job or no job at all,” you started to explain, putting a couple of fingers on the thin box so he couldn’t take it immediately. “This is...a gift...for you,” your voice cracked for a second, nervousness starting to show.

He saw that and for a moment Alex paused, mug mid-air.

“...it’s not a ‘sorry I cheated on you’, is it?”

The question came out maybe a little too harsh, Alex noticed only after the last word left his mouth, but he had that strange feeling that you were hiding something, for so long now.

You only snorted for the absurdity of the thought, shaking your head. “You wish! So you could dump my sorry ass and find yourself a rich cougar, uh?” you smiled, trying to ease his deep furrowed brow. “I’m not cheating, you should know-” “Then why have you dodged me for the last three weeks? I saw you talk to Mitch from K-9 a lot, last month” his husky voice came out with a tense curiosity in it.

“Eugh…!” you rolled your eyes. “Why do I stop talking to you about Christmas gifts two weeks before the twenty fifth? Because you spoil yourself with that smart brain of yours!” you grabbed a cookie from the platter and gently threw it at him, making him giggle just a smidge. Alex seemed appeased by your reply, taking another long sip of his coffee. “I would understand, if you cheated. I know I have a terrible personality, even if I try to-” his voice stopped all of a sudden, when his eyes focused on the bottom of the now nearly-empty mug.

His eyes shot back to you almost immediately, finally realizing what was written on your chest. “...that’s why!” he breathed. “That’s why you were all buddy-buddy with Mitch…! Oh no, Y/n, we already talked about it!” he almost whined, putting down the mug. “Don’t tell me you adopted one of the rejects from K-9...please tell me that’s not it…!” he added, a little desperate. “I love dogs, I do, but we’re rarely home one way or another and it would feel alone all day and it would destroy stuff and-” you stopped his rambling by handing him the thin box. “Open it,” you whispered, now nervous for his initial reaction.

If he seemed so negative about life with a dog, what would he say about a child���?

“Please don’t be a collar…” he muttered as his bony fingers removed the lid of the box.

His face became even more confused, as he saw a little square of fabric with some words written on them.

"What…" Slowly he brushed aside the crinkly paper and raised up what he thought was a shirt, but as the piece of clothing unraveled, his entire body froze, trying to compute what he was looking at.

A tiny, black onesie, soft as can be, with tiny little handcuffs on the front.

"Daddy's best backup" was impressed underneath the handcuffs, in bright pastel colors.

Alex didn't react for a good handful of seconds and now you knew how criminals felt while lining up for witness' identification. You never unglued your gaze from your lover, seeing him trying to understand, behind his clear, crystal eyes. You saw his hands tremble as he lowered the baby clothing, his attention passing from the fabric to yourself, then towards the box again.

A couple of fingers moved towards the ultrasound picture that you left on the bottom of the box, barely touching it before letting them sink again in the little onesie's softness. "Y/n…" he croaked your name and your chest went taut out of pure fear. "Is... you're telling me that...that you…" "y-yes" you immediately reply, as to cut short the torturous wait. "I -uhm… I took a couple of tests...and...a-all positive…" you managed to add, watching him sitting on the bed completely lost, as if the news didn't fully hit him.

He looked at the mug, then at the photo without stopping cuddling the tiny onesie with his fingers. "I... we're still in time if you...i-if you don't want–" "What?" He rounded his head towards you, as if snapping to reality.

You gulped, worried. "You...if you're not ready yet...we can wait...I could find a doctor, Sara will help me after the...t-the…" you stopped yourself from crying, the thought of losing the baby feeling like a wound opening in your very soul.

"What do you mean...not ready?" He then asked with a tender whisper. "I…" Alex gave out a shocked chuckle, but the corners of his mouth curled up in a smile. "I'm not the one pregnant with our baby, am I?" The word finally came out of his lips and the way he said it just melted your heart away, its panicked pounding now filling with warmth at every beat.

You watched Alex slowly fold the onesie again, this amazed and completely baffled expression on his face. "Because of Cameron…" you uttered, gripping at the hem of your t-shirt.

Every doubt you had, every fear, it poured out after that. Alex had always been your confident, your wise guide to ask for help and not being able to tell him your grudges for so long did a number on you, especially for something so important like a pregnancy. "I feared you would take this...as a replacement. Make you remember all over again…! I don't want you to….to fall back down in that dark place, Alex. I could never–" your voice gave out in a sob and immediately he seemed to turn back to his usual, protective self.

His hands grabbed the tray and moved it quickly on the other side of the bed, before taking both your hands and pulling you toward him. "Come here honey..." he called under his breath, enveloping you in his strong arms as you found place on his lap. One of his hands came up and started to gently stroke your nape, as the other wrapped around you.

For a moment, you didn't think of anything but his presence. His beating heart underneath his skin, finding your palm. His breath whispering in his lungs and falling onto the top of your head. "Listen... I'll never...never get over Cam. The death of a child is… devastating." He leaned slightly forward, completely hugging you with his frame. "And yes I was in a dark place… I got blinded by my pain and didn't see what I was causing you…and maybe I got addicted to my misery..." his hands shook against you, but he only pushed them a little harder to grip your clothes. "But don't you ever...ever think that I'll make you do something as horrible as abortion. I can't have you experience that kind of pain."

His lips came and kissed your hair, his whole body starting to tremble as well as his fingers. "And this...oh my God Y/n, I'm not accustomed to this kind of happiness anymore…!" Alex laughed now, his voice that stumbled for a moment in his throat. "And now I can't even... I can't find the words to describe how happy I am  right now..."

All of your anxiety melted away as he hugged you now even more. "So...we keep it?" "It's our baby! Of course we keep it!" He chortled at your question, now letting you go only to grab the onesie again, looking at it with tearful eyes, a bright smile on his face.

Alex brought the piece of clothing to his face and closed his eyes, to feel the softness of the fabric. "You always bring me the biggest joys in my life...even in my worst moments, you were there..." his glassy eyes opened again and found yours, the lights in them shining like a dawn after a long storm. "And now you gift me this miracle…our little miracle…"

Silence fell after his words, the speech hanging in the air like mistletoe at Christmas. Heartwarming, hopeful.

He always had his way with words, didn't he?

"This is way better than a dog..."

Sometimes his way with words was the dumbass way.

[its-sixxers]

Dragonsoul

To be dovahkiin does not come without cost. Tandreth reaches his limit. A little bit before Elder Knowledge.

It wasn’t infrequent that Idunn wondered how many dragons her predecessors had slain. Surely dozens - the creatures were all but wiped from the face of Tamriel, fallen so far from a race that once ruled earth and sky. 

Then why, she wondered, did her head feel as if it was about to burst after killing her twelfth?

With each soul absorbed the pounding against her skull worsened, as if the dovah were trying to physically escape her mind. After the last two kills, the pain overrode the euphoria that came with another ancient spirit entangled with her own. 

Perhaps she was weak, she thought. Perhaps the potency of Akatosh’s blood worsened with each generation. Perhaps she’d displeased Kyne in some way. Idunn didn’t know. All she knew was that it hurt - and she didn’t dare let anyone see it.

Tandreth had been unusually quiet since she’d lodged her warhammer into the dragon’s skull. That had been midday, just south of Dragon Bridge - the last thing he said to her was to remark on how conveniently the place was named. They’d made camp well into the Reach’s border, the river Karth flowing behind them - it was twilight, and still Tandreth hadn’t said a thing.

Usually he’d have rambled on until she was at the point of exhaustion - she’d congratulated him on his effectiveness as a sleep aid once, and by the way he grinned she realized that was precisely his point. Until her headaches had begun, she had to admit she slept better in his presence than she’d ever had alone.

Now the silence felt dangerous. 

Tandreth’s eyes caught the firelight, reflected it in a way that seemed to make it brighter. His gaze was focused on the flames, he made no move to begin cooking them their dinner (a duty he’d taken upon himself, declaring her cooking filling but boring). Idunn found herself watching him. It soothed the pang in her skull.

His eyes raised from the fire, and met hers. Idunn tried not to visibly startle when he spoke.

“Have you ever thought of letting someone else kill the dragons?”

It wasn’t the question she’d expected, after a whole day of silence. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howled.

“No.” she answered truthfully. “Others can kill them, but not the right way. They’ll come back. It’s just buying time, while Alduin flies.” It was her turn to cast her gaze to the fire - so gentle, compared to the heat expelled from the beasts’ throats. She rubbed her hands together and held them out to the flames, suddenly tempted to thrust her palms into the coals. 

Tandreth didn’t look convinced, soldiering on. “There can be more than one dragonborn at a time, you said so yourself. It doesn’t follow bloodline. Maybe there’s someone else out there.” 

“If there is, they’re far away or hiding.” Idunn shook her head - the motion making her wince. “It’s me. For now. Maybe until I die.” The thought that had been glimmering in her mind since the pain had become too intense to ignore surfaced once again, and for the first time she put voice to it. “What if I’m the last?”

“Then you’ll have to live forever.” Tandreth replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m being serious.” Idunn sighed, letting her head fall into her hands to keep herself from placing them into the flame. “No one’s killed a dragon for centuries. No one’s killed more than one for… I don’t know. Much longer. I’ve killed twelve. You don’t see many old warriors for a reason.”

“You’re not a warrior, though.” he corrected her. “You don’t fight because you enjoy it. You do it because you have to.”

“You don’t hear of old heroes either.”

His smile faded. “You’re not allowed to die. It’d be a colossal waste of time.”

Idunn lifted her head and stared at him incredulously. “What?”

“You heard me.” Tandreth fetched a stick from the ground next to him and started prodding at the coals, sending more sparks flying into the air. “If you die, all the things I’ve bothered to remember won’t have been for anything. They’ll take up space in my head. Space I could use.” He was enunciating his words with the clarity Idunn had begun to associate with his being fearful - as if subconsciously trying to talk his way out of whatever plagued him. 

She felt heat rise to her cheeks, indignant. “What things have you bothered to remember?”

Tandreth looked at her with equal anger. “Your favorite thing to eat is smoked salmon, and you hate horker loaf. The scar on your eye was from when you tripped in the bush and caught a briar thorn. You cover the other one with your hair because it makes you uncomfortable when people look you in the eye. You keep trying to braid your hair the way I did once, and I can’t show you how because you’ll feel guilty for not remembering.” He rattled them off in a flurry, and each new fact about herself had Idunn’s posture growing stiffer. “You snore like a kitten and sneeze like an old man. You’re absolutely useless when you’re ill, and the only thing that helps is herbal tea your mother taught you to make.” Tandreth snapped the stick in two in his hands. “That’s not even a tenth of it. If you keep trying to kill those beasts -”

Somehow she found her voice in time to interrupt him, dumbstruck as she was. “I have to. There’s no one else.”

“There’s never anyone else!” Tandreth nearly shouted, rising to his feet and hurling the broken stick into the flames. A log collapsed from the impact, sending a shower of sparks upward. “What has this world done for you? What has Skyrim done for you?” He swept his hand to the east, over the river and the highlands. “The jarl so many of them follow killed your kin. Killing demigods doesn’t stop their scorn. Why should you die for them?”

Idunn tried not to wince as he shouted, her head giving another painful throb. “Because if I don’t try the world ends.”

“Says a mural on a wall. Prophecy isn’t concrete, Idunn.” Tandreth clenched his hands. “These people - the Blades we’re going to see, they’ve got you on the sacrificial altar. Have any of them ever asked you how you are? Do any of them notice?”

The question stung, for he knew the answer as well as she did - but she couldn’t dwell on it, for another question presented itself to her. “... notice what?”

Tandreth’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and soon his body followed. He sat down heavily onto the rock he’d perched himself on earlier. “You haven’t slept through the night in weeks.” he murmured, gaze now downcast. “You talk in your sleep, in that awful tongue. Your armor fits looser than it used to.”

“I’m fine, Tandreth.”

“No. Don’t you dare try to lie to me. Not after I’ve been honest.” Tandreth visibly swallowed, trying to douse his anger. “You’re terrible at it, besides.”

Idunn inhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Alright. No, I’m not fine. My skull feels like it’s about to split open. Sometimes I see things that aren’t there.” It was her turn to stand - with her feet on the ground she felt firmer in her words. “But none of it matters. I can’t stop, Tandreth. I can’t have innocent blood on my hands.”

Slowly he lifted his gaze to meet hers. “And I can’t watch you die in front of me.” His voice was a whisper, now - a plea. “Idunn. Please don’t make me. If the Blades won’t help you, if the Greybeards can’t, perhaps the daedra -”

“I won’t taint a gift from Kyne by consorting with daedra.”

“Then Sheogorath’s the one you should talk to, since you’re willing to let it rot in a grave instead.”

“You don’t have to watch.” Idunn snapped, the pain in her head rising to a fever pitch - ringing like a struck bell. All she wanted was for it to stop, and that night Tandreth was only making it worse. “Go, then, if I’m so terrible to look at.”

That ignited his temper once more - but instead of the blazing inferno she’d expected, Tandreth’s reply was icy. “If what I say means so little, perhaps I will.”

All it did was make her angrier, and at last she lost her thread of composure. “Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?” she shouted. “I don’t want to die! I don’t want to dread every time a shadow crosses the sun, I hate having lives depending on me, but the world doesn’t give us what we want, and somehow I know what you can’t get through your bloody, stupid, selfish skull after decades. Go! Leave! You’ve been dying to do it for weeks.”

He looked as if she’d stabbed him - she recognized the initial flinch, then the slow look down at the wound though he had none. Then without a word he stood and lifted the flap to his tent, disappearing within.

All at once the cacophony in her mind stilled. Idunn sat by the fire until it burned down to embers, glaring expectantly at Tandreth’s tent every so often and certain he’d come forth to apologize. But he didn’t. The radiant heat grew colder, the night grew darker, and eventually she had to pour a bucket of river water over the dimmed coals before retiring to her own tent.

Somewhere in the dark, sleep found her. 

When she awoke and stepped out into the dawn, Tandreth’s tent was gone - and with it, its owner.

The ringing in her head returned, rippling like laughter.

[philliamwrites]

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas (Mochizuki Jun)

Pairing: Noé/Vanitas

Tags: #vanitas pines for noé, #implied/referenced past rape/non-con, #implied/referenced past childe abuse, #blood and unjury, #angst and feels, #forehead kisses

Words: 3.7k

Summary: Vanitas can’t sleep so he does the only other thing he’s good at besides curing vampires from the curse: harass Noé. It escalates royally and doesn’t end good. No one is surprised.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

   Moonlight casts slim, silver lines on Noé’s face.

  Sitting on the windowsill, Vanitas can see the slow and steady rise of Noé’s chest, a constant rhythm speaking of life. How he has survived until today is still a wonder to Vanitas. Only a few feet separate him from the sleeping, defenceless body—a body he knows all too well capable of pulling tense like a bowstring when ready to strike; an animal equipped with lethal tools to hunt and destroy. But Noé is a paradox of black and white, a pacifist at heart that opens up too easily, too quick. Why else would he be interested in someone like Vanitas?

    Their conversation at the top of the bell tower is still ringing all too clear in his head, a memory he’d rather strip from his mind and drop in the deepest part of a vicious, dark sea. Noé is dangerous, because unbeknown to himself, he has worked a strange magic on Vanitas, pulling at invisible chains curling around his neck however Noé pleases. If Vanitas didn’t know better, he’d call it Fate, but she has abandoned him long ago to suddenly return like a sullen lover and beg him for companionship.

    “Louis,” Noé murmurs, drawing back Vanitas’s attention, and no, he isn’t jealous, not in the slightest. He just wants to reach inside Noé’s mouth and rip that name out of him. He hates that even though Noé is easy to read like an open book, it turns out its pages are filled with enigmas Vanitas is unable to solve.

    A little huff escapes him as he slides down the windowsill, his feet landing eerily quiet on the floor. Watching Noé snore undisturbed, he’s quite sure he’s met what must be the worst vampire of his kind. What else explains his utter lack of awareness of danger? Vanitas imagines slipping right next to him and sliding a dagger across his throat or put the barrel right above his heart, pulling the trigger.

    He’s so easy, Vanitas thinks, barely holding back a scoff. In so many ways.

    Noé shifts, and Vanitas stops, only noticing then he’s already crossed the room and has almost reached Noé’s bedside. And that’s another thing he can’t stand about Noé: He makes Vanitas do things impulsively, barely spending another thought if what he’s about to do is beneficial or utterly disastrous—no matter that, in most cases he is already moving, already talking, and it’s so aggravating that 80 percent of what he’s saying in a sentence starts or ends with Noé’s name on his lips. Like a blessing, like a prayer. Vanitas doesn’t pray, not anymore. He’s stopped long ago, and no God, Saint or Martyr’s promise of benediction would be enough for a reward to make him resume.

    So they punish him, and surely Noé is just another part of what they hold in store for him. Another explanation isn’t possible, because why of all nights in which he has visited Noé, this time he wakes up, his warning only a little hum before Vanitas is met with a sleepy face and white hair adorably ruffled.

    No, not adorable, he tells himself. Terrible. Annoying.

    “Vanitas?” Noé’s voice is rough on the edges and thick with sleep. “You can’t sleep?”

    Vanitas feels challenged to say, “No, watching people sleep is one of my many exotic hobbies!” but he’s tired and sort of really desperate for some form of rest, so defeated, he admits, “No, I can’t.”

    Noé considers him with more regard, and Vanitas wonders what he thinks, watching him stand in his room, barefoot and with deep shadows under his eyes. Just the previous day, he'd commented that Vanitas wasn’t looking well at all, and he'd asked if they should rest for a while. Vanitas had pressed on even harder, refusing Noé another good look at his battered form.

    The silence stretches before them like a lazy beast, unmoving but still ready to pounce any second. Eventually, Noé offers with a carefully even voice, “Do you want to know what always helped me falling asleep when I was a child?”

    Vanitas scoffs. “No, I really don’t.”

    “Good,” Noé says, either not noticing or ignoring Vanitas rolling his eyes. “Whenever I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d go to Domi’s room and climb into her bed. Knowing someone was beside me helped, and I can sleep much better with someone warm next to me.”

    “My, do I look like a ten year old boy, barely able to fend for myself that I need to share my bed with someone?” Vanitas cocks his head to the side, squinting at Noé from under his black lashes. “And who would want to lie next to a rough sleeper like you, ending up as a body pillow for your serving!”

    Noé arches a slim, white eyebrow and lifts his blanket. Vanitas stares at him for a moment, then moves towards him like a moth to the flame and crawls under the sheets, settling right next to the other boy. “What a splendid idea!” no one says, because it isn’t.

    Noé is a furnace beside him. Whatever space Vanitas tries to bring between them, he immediately bridges, pressing his arm against Vanitas’s.

    “Dominique is going to kill me if she hears about this,” he murmurs into the darkness, ignoring how Noé’s calf feels against his bare ankle. “If you so much as mention it to her, I will haunt you down and slay you.”

    Noé hums as he turns around to face him, snuggling into the blanket. Vanitas tries to lie as still as possible. He imagines he is a rock at the bottom of a vast sea where he’s been for hundreds of years and will remain for another hundreds of years. It works until he feels Noé’s warm breath ghost over his cheek and in his imagination, Vanitas sees the rock carried away with the water current.

    “She won’t bother,” Noé says. “Like I said, we used to do that all the time as kids. Me, Domi and—” The sudden silence feels like the air sucked out of the room so no sound can travel. Vanitas can feel his shoulders tense, his breath caught somewhere on the way from his lungs to his mouth.

    Don’t say Louis, don’t say Louis, he thinks.

    “And Louis,” Noé finishes quietly, another breath on Vanitas’s skin.

    “Then we must be talking about a different Dominique,” Vanitas says, not indulging at all in the boy that’s written in blood on Noé’s tongue and hands. “But then again, you are her favourite thing, and she would do anything for you. Do me one favour, would you? Don’t invite me to your wedding.”

    Noé makes a strange, curious sound, and draws his knees up to his chest. Vanitas tries to accommodate by moving further towards the edge but half of his body is already hanging off, barely covered by the blanket. He shivers and turns to his side, now facing Noé and notices too late what a terrible idea that is with only a few inches separating their faces. His eyes shift from Noé’s ears to his cheekbones and focus on where his lashes throw dark shadows on his skin.

    “Wedding?” Noé blinks up at him. “Me and Domi? What makes you think that we would marry?”

    “What makes you think you won’t?”

    “Dominique is like a sister to me.” Noé hums another little, low note, leaning his head forward. Vanitas leans back. “No, she is the sister I always wished for. I love her as family.”

    “Why, go and break her heart like that.” Vanitas sighs, faking a concerned huff. Either the soft fabric just under the tip of his fingers is his own coat or Noé’s pyjama, and he doesn’t dare moving to find out. “Or maybe you’re actually naive enough to believe she feels the same way.”

    “Why wouldn’t she?” He can practically hear the other boy frowning. “I’m certain she too loves me as a brother. And should she ever decide to marry, I’ll surely be sad, but it doesn’t matter as long as she’s happy. I just know she’ll be a beautiful bride.”

    Vanitas rolls his eyes, unable to believe such gullibility and there’s nothing he wants to do more than claw his way into Noé’s heart and see what makes him tick like that, what mechanics work to produce such a strange specimen like him. But before he can give back a snark remark, Noé suddenly asks, “What about you?”

    “Oh, I would make a lovely bride, thank you for asking.”

    “No, I mean marriage,” Noé says after a poorly restrained chuckle. “Are you considering to marry Jeanne?”

    Vanitas’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ before he barks out a laugh. “What in Heaven’s sake makes you think that?” he says, pressing one hand against his forehead because surely whatever Noé comes up with now will give him the headache that’s asserted itself within him since their first encounter.

    Noé is quiet for a moment, then whispers, “Because you love her.”

    Vanitas stops laughing. The headache doesn’t come, it’s dulled by the strange tone in Noé’s voice, one he fails to identify. It’s like grabbing mist, the whitish mystery clearly visible but slipping through his fingers.

    “That is a very strong assumption,” he starts slowly, hearing the edge in his own voice. “But tell me, Noé, do you see me as someone who is capable of loving?” Noé’s breath hitches, his answer clear to Vanitas before even spoken, so quickly, and with a voice dark and hard, like late-winter ice, he adds, “A vampire of all things?”

    Noé’s breath hitches again, this time sounding like a knife stabbed into his side. It does something funny to Vanitas, makes his heart jump a little out of tact, and he feels a smile slowly forming his lips into a crooked line. His hand sneaks up from under the blanket and reaches to grab a white lock, playing a contrast of black and white between his gloved fingers.

    “I don’t love, Noé,” he whispers, pushing his cheek into the pillow that smells of Noé. “Not you, not Jeanne. Not humans, and certainly not vampires. I only consume those of value to my cause.” Like you. Like Jeanne and that boy she holds so dear.

    Noé seems to understand, but he doesn’t pull away from Vanitas’s touch, which speaks volumes of whatever this connection between them is. No, he slightly turns his head, nuzzling into Vanitas’s hand, and with a shudder Vanitas realises how vulnerable the inside of his wrist is just inches away from Noé’s mouth and those hidden teeth that can easily rip apart his skin.

    In this short moment he begs to whatever deities currently punishing him that he would bite him. Because then everything would easily fall into place, and he could kill Noé without second thought; without remorse.

    Silver lines return to Noé’s face, and Vanitas blinks up at the window, at the narrow slit showing the moon emerging behind thick clouds, making Noé look like a piece torn out of the night sky: silver and black.

    “Ah, but it seems there is someone else who adores you,” he says, his voice rising to a playful, ironic tint. He nods his chin towards the moon, and Noé turns around and away from Vanitas’s hand, blinking into the soft light. Just for a split second, his fingers twitch—toward Noé’s throat, his cheek, his lips?—but he already pulls it back under the blanket, still feeling exactly where Noé has touched him even through the thick fabric of his glove.

    “La lune?” Noé turns back to Vanitas, brows drawn together.

    “Yes, the very one. But I don’t recommend giving into it. You can only go so far on a roof after all before you reach the end.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “You don’t know the story? About the man falling in love with the moon. He climbed up to a roof to reach her, but well. I think you can imagine the end of that.”

    “It sounds like the moon is a harsh mistress,” Noé says slowly, surprising Vanitas in joining his antics, even following his train of thought. “La belle dame sans merci,” he whispers. “Then you two aren’t so different.”

    Vanitas raises an eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”

    “Just as distant,” he says, shifting away from Vanitas for the first time. Good, Vanitas should think. Stay away from me. But instead he goes rigid and demands, Don’t go. “Just as out of reach.”

    “Thank you, I try to keep things interesting,” Vanitas says, his voice hollow.

    Noé surprises him (there it is again, being surprised when Vanitas has sworn that he’ll never underestimate another person ever again) by giving a soft chuckle. “But that makes me want to get closer to you even more, Vanitas.”

    His mouth goes dry. His brain tries to follow up with whatever might rebuilt the wall between them, brick by brick, but instead his mind betrays him and takes over his mouth, babbling, “Did you know Alain Chartier wrote the poem about the merciless belle dame? It’s a little tacky to my taste, but then again, I wouldn’t beg anyone for their adoration. It’s a silly concept, the dialogue between the Lover and the Lady, I mean why would anyone ride out to enjoy a party, only to languish at the feet of—”

    Noé groans. He stops the onslaught of words by slapping a hand on Vanitas’s mouth. The sudden silence stretches into uncomfortable territory until Vanitas can’t bear it anymore. He stares at Noé out from the corner of his eyes, and parts his lips to drag his tongue over Noé’s fingers. Noé flinches, and looks back at him with wide eyes. What usually did the trick to gross people out (Dante for example was fairly familiar with this concept and never failed to meet Vanitas’s expectations to draw away quickly) doesn’t work on Noé. He remains transfixed on Vanitas’s face as if all secrets of the universe display on his features, and Vanitas starts to questions his action. Suddenly, Noé shifts. He props himself on one elbow and leans over him, casting a long shadow over his upper body.

    Just then, Vanitas realises what a dangerous situation he’s in. Up until this moment, he thought Noé to be shy, but that isn’t right at all. Noé is quiet resolve, and steadfast loyalty, he is the very silence ready to pounce and turn peace into havoc. It’s evident in how he watches Vanitas behind half closed eyes, those ruby mirrors considering him with an unreadable expression. His heart picks up, and before he can ascertain if this is a game he can win, he answers with sultry eyes himself, and mouths “Kiss me” against Noé’s skin.

    It’s just out of curiosity, he tells himself. He wants to rile Noé up a little, see how far he can go and where he draws the line. Maybe Noé won’t do a thing and play the blushing maiden Vanitas imagines him to be. They both know it’s a dare Noé will lose because he respects Vanitas’s boundaries too much, and that little victory satisfies him already enough to smile into Noé’s hand triumphantly.

    Noé considers him with a blank expression before his eyes slowly drift to his hand where it’s still secured over Vanitas’s mouth. Something changes in his eyes, they grow soft, and Vanitas immediately regrets what he’s done because he can’t bear the warmth in them, the unspoken promise of whatever Noé is willing to give him. He thinks about squirming out of the boy's touch, but he’s started moving his hand already, settling on Vanitas’s eyes. His heart stops. Rotten memories claw at the edge of his mind, hungry hyenas demanding blood and misery that this kind of darkness brings. Before he can lash out and push Noé away, soft moon light illuminates the darkness behind his closed eyes again, and he takes a deep, shaky breath, only now noticing that he’s stopped breathing. His eyes snap open, locking with Noé’s as he brushes black bangs out of Vanitas’s face. The moon shines a halo around Noé when he leans down and kisses his forehead.

    It’s perfect.

    Vanitas hates it.

    He doesn’t move.

    Noé’s lips are surprisingly soft. So is his smell, a faint fragrance of sandalwood with the sharp tint of clove and something coppery hidden under the layers, and there’s nothing better to describe it than home. The realisation cuts him in a sharp, painful flash, one that robs him of the air he’s only just now regained. Noé is careful that no other part of their bodies is touching, and it’s the last act of kindness that pushes something in him into a bottomless, black hole.

    His fingers splay on Noé’s chest as he pushes him away, staring up into a slightly flushed face. The blushing maiden. Despite everything, it makes Vanitas smile.

    “You live dangerous, my friend,” he murmurs, playing with a shirt button close to Noé’s collarbones. “But I will condone it this once. It seems I forgot one gets burned when playing with fire.”

    Noé leans back, one hand beside Vanitas’s head carrying his weight, contemplating. Vanitas already knows whatever he’s going to say, it won’t be good.

    “I never thought of you as someone who would yield to anything,” Noé says eventually. “Not even fire.” And quieter, he adds, “Ignis aurom probat.” Fire tests gold.

    A shudder ripples through Vanitas’s body, stealing his control and causing him to laugh involuntarily because he doesn’t see himself as pure as gold, and Noé is so much more than a simple fire. Noé is a searing blaze, devastating cities and forests and leaving ashes of their self, allowing them to rebuild and regrow and turn away from an unwanted past. Vanitas would gladly sell his soul for such an opportunity, but he’s shackled by the shadow of a little boy half his height with a sweet voice and eyes the fairest blue even the sky envies.

    “You’re quite the charmer, but you do know what they say about gold, don’t you?”

    Noé hesitates, shifting a little, and even Vanitas with the little imagination that he has, can quite clearly picture how the muscles must shift beneath Noé’s dark skin on his back. He closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth. “Gold gives to the ugliest thing a certain charming air, For that without it were else a miserable affair.”

    Noé pales. “I didn’t mean—”

    “Shhh.” Vanitas smiles a smile Lucifer must have worn just seconds before God banished him from Heaven. His eyes don’t leave Noé for a second when he lifts a finger and presses it against Noé’s lips.

    “I know, you didn’t mean to.” He rolls his eyes, voice in a mocking tone imitating what Noé was going to say because he’s easily predictable. “And you would never hurt me. But that makes us different. Because I will gladly hurt you if you let me.” He follows the soft curve of Noé’s lower lip with the tip of his finger until he reaches the corner of his mouth. There he curls his finger inside and pulls one side into a crooked smile. A sharp tooth grazes his skin, not quiet enough to break it, but a shiver travels down his back nonetheless.

    Noé pulls Vanitas’s hand away from his face, looking down at him like he’s a strange animal he’s never seen before. A dull sadness settles over his eyes, but it’s too quick for Vanitas to really acknowledge.

    “Not gold then,” Noé concludes with resolution in his voice. “But quicksilver.” And with that, he places Vanitas’s hand carefully back on his chest, and retreats to his side of the bed, laying down so Vanitas is faced with his broad back, his body completely turned towards the moon.

    Vanitas blinks, stretching out one hand to follow the curve of Noé’s spine in the air with a finger, imagining what it would feel like to curl against this strong body and hold onto something what won’t break under his touch. He stays like that until he hears calm, deep breathing. Only then he lifts that same finger that’s been inside Noé’s mouth to his lips and sucks slowly until his mind talks him into believing it’s actually Noé he tastes.

    I don’t love, he repeats over and over in his head until his eyes fall close and he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

    The next morning starts just like Vanitas has always feared a morning sleeping beside another body would go. Waking up slowly to a woman’s voice in the far distance, he’s still walking on this slim line between sleeping and waking, a coma really, when his conscience registers a heavy arm around his waist and warm breath in his neck. His body locks up into one painful, tense muscle; all desperate instinct and frightened awareness because No, I don’t want Doctor to touch me, and he starts frantically scrabbling for the dagger below his pillow only to find nothing. Vanitas feels punched back to when he’s eleven and caged under Moreau’s heavy, naked body, a choked whimper like a wounded animal leaving his mouth. The arm moves, allowing the tiniest leeway. Vanitas doesn’t think. He swings his arm as hard as he can and hears the satisfying crack of a bone breaking. The man beside him gives a surprised shout, and Vanitas jumps to his feet, ready to break more than bones as the door crashes open at the same time, a woman storming inside.

    “Noé?” Dominique cries, taking in how he's bent forward on the bed, holding his face. It doesn’t stop the blood dripping all over the white sheets, and Vanitas grows cold when her sharp eyes land on him, a furious hate boiling inside them. “What have you done, human?” she hisses, reaching Noé’s hunched form within few steps.

    Vanitas is lost for words, a quite frequent reaction whenever he’s in Noé’s proximity. But it isn’t like anything he’ll say can excuse or save him from Dominique’s wrath, so he just stands there, dumbfounded, and watches her valuate the graveness of Noé’s broken nose, wondering if the man who’s fallen off the roof in the pursuit of his love lost as much blood as Noé right now and if that was worthwhile, or if he’d have rather poisoned himself with quicksilver.

    Not that it matters.

    Both end in a painful, slow death.

I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!’

[John Keats]

[littlegoldenbirdie]

Tripping Balls on Ravnica

I enjoyed writing slapstick for Nicol Bolas with 'A Low Blow on Amonkhet', so I decided to do another one.

All hell was breaking loose on the streets of Ravnica as citizens fought for their lives against marauding hordes of undead warriors. The mastermind of the nightmare Hell consuming the plane watched from atop his Citadel, cackling with exultant joy at all the chaos and destruction before him. Nicol Bolas, soon to be the mightiest being ever to grace the multiverse, could almost taste his impending victory...

On the side of the citadel he was facing away from, a scruffy young woman mumbled a counting rhyme to nobody at all as she commanded the air to form steps for her to climb. "One, two, buckle my... belt? Never had to buckle a shoe before..." Nobody on either side noticed her walking in midair, too preoccupied with things that actually seemed important. Looking up at her destination, she smiled. The dragon, shining with ever-growing power stolen from others, was still facing away from her, intent on the chaos below. "Your future's so bright you gotta wear shades, huh?" Having just been made aware of her presence AND existence, Bolas's maniacal laughter dissolved into a bizarre sort of choking sputter as he whirled around to see her there. Nonchalantly shuffling her feet, she wasn't in any form of battle stance as she gave him a lopsided smile, more like a person meeting a work friend than anything else.

"Hi," she said, waving childishly. "Wait, what? Just... what?" the super-powered dragon's voice boomed. She smiled up at him sweetly, as though she was trying to give him the 'baby-doll eyes' look. "You do realize you're being a real nuisance, right?" she asked him frankly, as if she had no clue who she was dealing with. "...And YOU realize I'm at least ten times your size and glowing brighter than most planes' suns, right, puny mortal?" She giggled childishly. "No wonder everybody's so impressed with you... You've got a real flair for the dramatic!" He had no idea whether that was a compliment or an insult... or how she had gotten there, for that matter. Her smile died instantly. "But you really ought to stop. You're overdoing things." He would have laughed or been enraged if he had not been so utterly confused. "I am the fireman whom shall put out your flames of aspiration! And YOU, my friend, are about to get a taste of Totally Awesome Sweet Zendikari Liquid Snake! Trip-out powers: activate!" Flailing like a dizzy chicken, she swirled some odd-colored mana sparkles around and...

"Oh myyy..." Bolas managed as his glow abruptly faded away. "That tasted... purple..." The reverb disappeared as his voice trailed off into a whisper, settling back to sit on his haunches like a cat with a snoot full of concentrated catnip as his face went blank. A few utterly silent moments later, she stepped closer to him with a look of genuine concern. "Dude. Dude, can you hear me? You can hear me, right?" His ears pricked up ever so slightly. He was listening. "You're okay, dude. You're just tripping right now, is all. Give yourself a few hours and you'll be just fine, I promise. You just need to lie down and sleep it off, okay? You're fine. You just need to sleep. Lie down, dude. Lie down." He mumbled a soft reply. "...That actually sounds... pretty good... Thanks, voice in my head." Moving as if he was underwater, he slowly, slowly curled up like a cold cat, even going so far as to tuck his nose under his tail. Moments later, she could hear him start snoring. "Now what am I going to do with you...?"

"Amelia, you crazy little... How the HECK did you defeat him?!" The Gatewatch came charging up the staircase on the FRONT of the citadel... which she had bypassed completely. Liliana, who had literally JUST BEEN about to turn on Bolas herself, was pissed that the crazy bitch had beaten her to the punch, but the fact that the dragon was down for the count was more important than who had put him there. Jace stepped forward, being the most accustomed to dealing with Amelia's... eccentricities. "Okay, what did you do...?" She took a moment to turn and smile at him. "I just turned a few things in his bloodstream into other things, if you get my meaning. Hey, did you know that LSD is technically made out of chemicals that naturally occur in the body? Carbon, hydrogen and nitrogen. Granted, you need a lot of them, but hey, if they're already there..." Unconcerned with the others aside from providing an explanation, she turned her attention back to the sleeping dragon. "Well, he certainly can't stay here..."

Behind her, Gideon picked up a blade and prepared to step forward and make the kill. "HOLD IT!" Amelia almost screamed. "Were you even listening when Ugin told us about his history? We do NOT need another Spirit Dragon knocking around in the multiverse! ...Do we, Ugin?" Sure enough, there he was, planeswalking in from wherever he'd been, looking like he didn't know whether to yell at her or start cackling like a loon. Turning to him, Amelia shuffled her feet like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "So I kinda sorta got your brother high as a kite. ...Uh, sorry?" Nodding stiffly, his voice broke in a laugh he could barely stifle. "Yes, I... uh, see." She gave him a reassuring smile. "I hope you know where to take him, because we can't let him stay here. He needs somewhere safe to rest until he sobers up, which should be a few hours. Oh, and I hope you have some food, because he'll probably be pretty hungry when he does. I'd leave him something to eat, but I don't know where you're going."

Gathering the stoned Bolas to him, Ugin suppressed a jaw drop as he heard a deep, thundering rumble come forth from the sleepy dragon. "Purring just like a cat! ...You really are pickled, aren't you, Brother?" He sighed. "Evil or not, I don't know what's worse; you getting in these situations or the fact that I end up having to deal with it... and you!" The two disappeared, and the rest of the Gatewatch could only watch.

---

I'd wanted to do a whole series of these at one point, but I then decided it would have been disrespectful to Nicol Bolas's character.

[feastfic]

On my computer right now and I just spent like, I think maybe only an hour on this??? 

But hi!!! I wrote a thing! And I really want to say things about what inspired me to do this and why I thought of this, so if you wanna know please lmk! (Please I really wanna talk about this AU digjasobjn)

So since this took less than an hour and it’s currently almost two in the morning for me (and I took my sleeping meds) this is probably rushed and doesn’t have as much going for it as I wanted, so please keep that in mind!

This will be under the cut for spoilers, and tw in advance for implied/mentioned murder. Also wildly out of character behavior but it makes sense in the context of the AU I promise; but enough of me going on. Here it is!

He was just… mad these days. Well, not mad. But certainly unhappy. Upset, maybe, was the best word to use.

Ever since he and the rest of Team Snakemouth left the Swamps, he seemed a different bug. Ever since he’d killed The Beast- a rightful act of revenge, of vengeance for his previous friends- he was bitter.

He didn’t even quite know why he felt this way. Kabbu couldn’t tell if it was a new onset grief for losing his team, rage at The Beast, fear of losing the people he currently cared about. There was so much to feel about, and not enough of him to contain all of these feelings.

So he just decided not to contain it. Not around Leif or Vi, of course. There was no way he’d expressly show them how he felt. Not when these feelings were so destructive, so unlike how he normally was. Kabbu was not a bug to hate easily or quickly. But he had a feeling that that was what was going on. He hated- no, loathed; utterly despised this feeling. He wanted, needed to take it out somehow.

He didn’t seem to care about much anymore. His fighting skill wasn’t any better or worse off, but both Leif and Vi knew something was up. Other bugs that the team had previously encountered also could tell very easily that something was up with the typically gentle beetle.

Where he was once careful in battle, he was no longer. His caution was thrown to the wind, it felt like. More nicks and scratches collected themselves on his body, not out of the battles he’d won, but just out of his lack of self-preservation.

“What is up with you lately?” Vi popped the question as they took residence in the hotel underneath the termites’ dome. “Ever since we left that swamp you’ve been acting all weird.” Even her normally sarcastic tone was tinged with real and genuine concern. Not that she’d ever say that she cared any time soon, of course.

Kabbu gave her a side-eyed look, his arms held crossed as he leaned forward on the leaf bed he got when the room was rented out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stated bluntly, his gaze focusing on the bee on the bed right across from him. Behind her was Leif, silently watching the two of them talk. The moth had gotten quieter since the swamps, too.

“You’ve been all… all- I don’t know! You just haven’t been yourself and there’s no reason for it, Kabbu!”

“We agree with Vi. You’ve had a big change in character.” Leif said, quiet but as direct as ever.

With both of them on his case, there wasn’t a lot that Kabbu could say. He didn’t want their sympathy, he didn’t want them worrying about him. How could he ever tell them that he didn’t know if he even wanted to be part of the team anymore? Well, he didn’t have to. And, well… he could always just leave out of nowhere. Not that he was thinking of doing that.

He waited until the lights of the dome dimmed- the termites were going to rest as well now. To his side, he heard Vi’s soft snoring, but had to sit to make sure Leif was asleep too. It was a good thing he was, or else this would get awkward and stressful fast. 

There was nothing he chose to bring along. Except for the explorer badge that he and Vi got on their first day as an official team. It’d be only Vi now, but she had Leif. They’d be like every other team- a party of two, instead of their devious three. And that was it- he was never the item carrier; the bag with all of their things always went to Vi, where she’d protect their belongings as valiantly as she could. So the badge was just another thing that she’d keep.

Well, that was basically it now. Bringing along nothing with his person, Kabbu slipped out of the room in silence. He took the elevator back down to the ground floor, leaving for the great doors that had welcomed him into the dome just yesterday. The guards there of course asked him about his intentions and why he was leaving- alone especially- but he just coated his answer with a white lie.

“I’m only going to take the ant tunnel. It isn’t far from these gates.”

The two termites glanced at each other, their antennae twitching between one another like they were exchanging a telepathic message.

“Well,” one began, before letting out a sigh; “alright, but just go to that tunnel, alright? We don’t need any of those Farland beasts coming through. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do; don’t you worry.” 

The other guard worked the mechanism that opened the gate. Not all the way, only just enough to let Kabbu step through. When he entered the foggy abyss of the Forsaken Lands, the gate clanked shut behind him not long after. He nearly disappeared into the pressing grey surrounding him, so much so that he could barely even see the two termites standing watch outside their kingdom. That was certainly a good thing for him, at least.

He wasn’t going to the tunnels. What he needed was time to himself. Figure out what he was going to do now. Because leaving the team was sort of a big deal, even if he’d been considering it for a while. 

In theory he could join something like the bandits, or stake off for himself somewhere out in the wilds. No, the bandit idea wouldn’t work- they’d recognize him, even if that Astotheles character gave them heed about his defeat to Team Snakemouth before his disappearance. And while he could just live off in nowhere, that wasn’t the life he wanted to live now.

What he wanted was to make a big change. Something that’d get the attention of everyone. With the Wasp King being under high pursuits and being a bigger threat, he could get away with many more things. But what? What was there that he could do? He just wanted to break something, really. He wanted to do something to take out the way he felt so crushed about everything that happened in the swampy grasslands. Let everyone know what The Beast did to him.

By doing the same thing to everyone else. 

He looked down at his carapace in the deep fog, turning over his arms to look at all of the scratches that would remain on him either until he died, or until his next molt. But he was an aged man- he hadn’t molted in forever; not since he was much younger. These scars might as well be permanent, then. All of these would bear witness to whatever he decided on doing.

Oh, did he know it was wrong. He hated himself for it. Hurting innocent bugs was still something he didn’t want to do from the bottom of his heart. It wasn’t that he felt that it was all he could do though, but it was the thing he wanted to do most. He was scared. Both of the possibility of his actions, himself, and if he’d be caught. 

Fear. 

It was what he was going to make everyone else feel.

The same suffocating, horrible, gut-wrenching fear he once felt.

If he couldn’t bring himself to be the grand hero that everyone held Team Snakemouth up to be, then he simply wouldn’t. He was no team leader, he was no Green Ranger. He was Kabbu, damned.

If he was so sure of this course of action, he’d become someone like who he was once fighting against. 

The wasps were the enemy, or perhaps once were. He’d start there. Keep the pretense of doing good.

Those troopers wouldn’t know what hit them, or any of the other damned… things he’d sparred with. 

Oh, no. He wasn’t going to stop there. He just needed a gateway. Surely he wouldn’t feel bad about hurting a few of those folk. He’d work his way up; he just needed a way to get his initial anger out is all. It just so happened that a certain kingdom worked in his favor as a target.

He’d go from revered to hated, to where bugs would fear to speak his name for the things he’d done. Where exterminating a few wasps would first be looked up upon by other kingdoms, when the numbers began stacking higher and higher concerns would rise. Nobody would know it was him, not for a very, very long time.

From hero, to anti-hero, to villain.

He’d be a bad guy if it meant he didn’t have to live in guilt and sorrow for his own past. 

Only he mattered to himself now, and he was going to make sure that nobody got in his way or tried to change this path he was choosing. 

He walked further in the fog, until all he could make out of his surroundings were the cracks in the rock beneath his feet. This would be a long path for himself. 

Many countless nights full of himself hating himself, nights where he thought this was the best idea he’d ever had. Nights where he cried, where he laughed to himself. Going from his past self to whatever he’d be called was nothing easy.

But time passed. Days turned to weeks, which turned to months. He was only a fraction of his former self. Down the line he’d forgotten most of what inspired him to go on this outburst, but there was no turning back now. He’d abandoned his humanity just a month ago- these past thirty days were the easiest he’d had in what felt like years. 

And there was no telltale signs about Leif or Vi ever since he left. He’d heard of the talk when he first left; he entered towns from time to time cloaked in leaves and scraps of fabric bugs left about, shielding himself from observant eyes. People wondered what could’ve possibly happened.

They weren’t finding out any time soon.

At least, not from him. He was a little busy with… other things.

Which reminded him, as he sat alone in a small pub off the center of Defiant Root. The bar was a common ground for other bugs in shady business, so Kabbu fit right in. Ironic. But that was besides the point.

He didn’t like calling his craft murder. Nor assassination, or anything like that. But terms meant nothing when anyone else would know what it was called. What he was doing was never anything he’d thought he’d be able to do, but as it turned out, dealing with crippling survivor’s guilt and other feelings for so long made you numbed out to such things like death.

There was no joy out of it, but he didn’t do it just to do it. There was still the motive of fearmongering. He just didn’t know how far he’d take it.

Well, he’d find out in a week.

Because on his marks right now was a certain general. That’d surely get people to talk.

[lesetoilesfous]

HOWWWWW DID YOU MANY TO DESTROY ME IN JUST A FEW PARAGRAPHS 😭 (re: recent Fenders prompt 😭) I DEMAND FLUFF IN REPARATION

(jk it was absolutely beautiful, even if it broke my heart into a million tiny pieces and made cry 😭💖) BUT should you feel up to more Fenders: “pushing a strand of hair behind their ear” from the touch prompt list? 🥺 (or literally anything soft 🥺)

Aaaaaaah hahaha I’m so incredibly flattered. ONE DAY I will write the definitely not too angsty fic about Anders answering his calling days before the HoF finds a cure BUT in the mean time, your wish for fluff is my command. I hope you enjoy this!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Anders, Fenris

Tags: modern-ish AU, liberal use and abuse of the Ser Aveline myth, also pseudo-medieval fairytale storytelling, it’s just fluff all the way down, also brief cameo by google translated gaelic I can only ask forgiveness for my sins

Rating: Mature

“And so the maiden turned, and seized the fallen knight’s sword and shield, and turned upon the creature and said, “I am no simple noble, ready to lay down before your slaughter. I am a knight.” And the creature saw that it had been mistaken, for this was no mere maiden, but Ser Aveline herself, with hair as red as the flames of our Lady’s pyre, standing mighty with her fallen companion’s shield in one hand and her sword in the other. The creature turned, howling, and fled back into the forest, and Ser Aveline threw aside the sword and shield and tumbled to her lover’s side, gently pushing back her hair. But it was all for naught, as Ser Marie had been taken to Our Maker’s side. And so Ser Aveline wept, such sobs, it is said, that even now the trees in that place echo her weeping, and bushes of Spindleweed grow and choke the clearing.”

Fenris’ voice is deep and rich as he reads, brass-rimmed glasses reflecting the flickering red light of the fire. The lyrium on his skin refracts the light strangely in a dull iridescence, like moonlight in fog or glitterdust. Fenris’ hands move, gingerly turning the page of the book as he reads on. An illustration of Ser Aveline mourning her lost love is cut in black ink, bleeding green watercolours and dripping blue for mourning. Against the soft, warm weight of Fenris’ chest, Anders shifts a little. At the end of the sofa, their legs are a warm tangle. Libertas sits over their feet on the back of the sofa with her eyes shut and purrs. On the rug on the floor beside them, Fidelis is curled in a ball like the puppy she used to be. Fenris’ free hand hangs over the side of the sofa and lazily scratches her ears.

“Ser Aveline swore a vow that day that she would never love again. But unbeknownst to her, the Maker had other plans. For no sooner had she left Brecilian forest, than she was a stopped by a cohort of Dalish warriors. Ser Aveline was a mighty knight, and she understood that she would not be able to beat back every Dalish arrow. So instead she raised her hands in surrender, and asked whether she might speak to the leader of so fine a battalion. And it was then that she laid eyes on the second great love of her life: Feynlasan. He was a warrior whose skill with a blade was unparalleled by any except Ser Aveline herself, and he had long served as a mighty protector of his people. Ser Aveline recognised her new acquaintance by reputation, for she had heard in great detail of the tattoos that Feynlasan wore on his skin. Therefore she gave Feynlasan a warrior’s greeting, and clasped her first to her chest. Feynlasan was surprised by this, because he had not expected such courtesy from a human woman.”

Fenris’ mouth pulls into a wry smile, and Anders tilts his head to grin up at him, wriggling to sit up a little. Fenris lets him, moving his arm from around Anders’ shoulders and shifting until his back is resting against Anders’ chest. The smell of woodsmoke is rich in the air between them, and the red and gold upholstery of their sofa is soft and thick with embroidery. Anders drops an absent kiss onto Fenris’ head as he continues, and Fenris moves to pet Anders’ knee before he goes on.

“Ser Aveline stayed with Feynlasan and his people for ninety days and ninety nights, and in this time they taught her the ways of the Dalish elves, and schooled her in their arts of archery. It is said, even, that she won a prized set of Ironbark armour, a material that can be worked only by the Dalish, (much to the envy of Dwarven artisans, even now),” Again, Fenris’ voice curls with his smile before he goes on, “She won these raiments in a ritual hunt, a test of strength and skill - the aim of which was not to kill but instead to befriend one of the elves’ strange and mighty Halla. She returned with her steed, C’ablaigh, whose name in their language means Fleet Footed. For these she was rewarded with Ironbark armour, and many more gifts besides.”

On the rug, Fidelis yawns, a great high pitched thing, and sets her head down on her paws. Against the walls, the shadows lie thick and heavy, shivering only occasionally with the movement of passing traffic on the road.

“Halfway through Ser Aveline’s time with the Dalish, she was taking water in the river at night when she sawan apparition, seemingly woven of the moonlight. This spirit took the form of Ser Marie, and spoke to her, and this was the seventh of the many miracles Ser Aveline was gifted by the Maker.”

Behind Fenris, Anders’ eyes begin to drift shut as his shoulders relax against the soft stuffed arm of the sofa. In the grate, the fire is low and amber, occasionally murmuring like a sleeping dragon. Anders can feel the low rumble of Fenris’ voice in his chest, and the sensation is as familiar as his heartbeat. Fenris’ fingers turn the page, and the lyrium of them glows dully in the dark. A strand of white hair slips forward from behind his ear, and absently Anders reaches out and tucks it back. As he does so, Fenris turns and presses a dry kiss to the heel of his palm. Anders sighs, and lets his arms fall to wrap around Fenris’ belly. 

Fenris goes on, reading from the beautifully illuminated book of fairytales that Hawke claimed was once an Amell family heirloom. On the page facing the cramped, gothic black ink print, there is a beautiful illustration of Ser Aveline leaning down from a balcony bound in ivy toward Feynlasan, himself reaching up for her.

“And so it was, after speaking with the spirit of her lost love, that Ser Aveline allowed Feynlasan to court her. And after ninety days and ninety nights, he had fallen utterly in love with her, though her own heart was still a secret to him. Still, Feynlasan confessed his love to fair Ser Aveline, and requested that when she left the Dales and their secret glades, he might accompany her on her quest. And she was uncertain, because she knew what a valuable warrior he was to his people. But he assured her that he had trained them himself, and knew that any one of his apprentices could best him at swordplay. And so Aveline asked for this to be demonstrated to her, and when the performance was done she stepped into the ring, because she was afraid that Feynlasan’s heart might have betrayed him and his people both. But when the elvhen warriors defeated her as well, she was satisfied, and agreed that Feynlasan might accompany her. And so it was that Feynlasan went with her from that place, and remained by her side for many years.”

Fenris’ voice echoes into the living room of the house he and Anders had bought together. On the carpet, Fidelis is snoring, and on the back of the sofa Libertas has tucked her head into her forepaws, curled like an ink comma with her tail tucked against her belly. Behind Fenris, Anders’ breath blows softly against his head like a warm breeze, and his chest rises and falls in slow, deep breaths. A smile touches the corner of Fenris’ lips, and gingerly he closes the book and sets it on the coffee table. Stifling a yawn, he slips off his glasses and sets them on the cover. 

He should go to bed. Both of them should.

Instead, Fenris tugs up a knitted wool blanket that Merrill had given them from where it has become trapped between Anders’ legs and the sofa cushions. Lazily, he tugs it over them and turns over on Anders’ chest, setting his ear over his lover’s heart. He falls asleep listening to the slow, steady beat. When he dreams, he dreams of knights and fairytales and flashing red-blonde hair.

[pollenat]

“Nocturnal silence” | cjs.

➛ ITZY’s Lia. 2012!au.

➛ Word count: 1854.

➛ This short follows the events of “Liquid mirrors”.

The worst part about the overcrowded cabin has to be the snoring woman. The very same one that just a few hours ago complained about the lack of fresh brussels sprouts on a ship - the last ark of humanity after the end of the world. Humankind has gone mostly extinct, and she had the guts to be angry at frozen greens. Looking at her through half-closed lids, you’re itching to throw a pillow at the woman. Nothing can stop her from going on, like an old tractor, choking on its own engine every now and then. The very pillow you’re trying to deafen the noises with, does nothing to your sensitive ears. You’re growing more and more irritated with each passing second.

Others seem to not mind. You look down, at the bunk underneath yours, where a mother with her son are sound asleep. The boy has kicked thin blanket off of his body, as if to prove how much space he can take. His mother is lying on the very edge, somehow calm despite her tragic situation. A man, lying above the snoring woman, has earplugs. Lucky asshole.

Your body thrashes around for an hour or so. At least it feels like it. The duvet is in desperate need of changing, but who cares about laundry during the apocalypse? You’re all sticky from sweat, annoyed by incoming headache and ready to commit a murder, which is just a figure of speech, don’t worry. The fact that nobody else is as affected by the snoring? A perfect way to drive you insane.

At some point you can’t take it anymore - the night feels useless. You miss the rays of sunshine, the sign of life, the reason to stay away from the cabin. Tonight, just like many times before, you jump off of bed, barely avoiding the snoring woman’s husband. He has made himself a sleeping station on the ground. You wonder is he really asleep or just way more patient than you. Either way, you don’t plan on staying around a second longer. As soon as the door closes, you’re welcomed by sweet silence. It’s an odd contrast to the loud snoring. Its lack has you almost creeped out.

The floor is cold under your naked feet. To the point where you can’t touch it for longer than a few seconds. Jumping from one foot to another, you look down the dark hallway. Its only source of light are small windows in the cabins’ doors. Circle-shaped rays fall on walls, like headlights, showing you the way across narrow scene.

Nobody will mind you getting lost in the ship’s hallways, right? You’re just another survivor, struggling to find their place aboard the ark. There are no perspectives. Exploring it seems to be the most compelling thing one could busy themselves with. So you travel down the scene, stepping inside the circles of light and looking inside the cabins as you pass. There’s no other soul up. Everybody is sleeping. It’s sort of weird and you wonder whether it’s just a dream you’re stuck in. How come you’re the only one unable to fall asleep?

Humming some tune you faintly remember makes the night feel more bearable. You’re tired of the crowded spaces, of eyes settling on you, even if they’re just traveling. They’re a tiresome phenomenon that does nothing, but fuel your anxiety. The worst part? Aside from the night, there’s nowhere to escape. All-ocean has made sure of that.

Step by step, you move forward, never putting a foot down for longer than two seconds. You’ve already observed that, but now it reminds you of the past. The tiled floor of your balcony during Winter. Dusting used duvets while cursing at temperature. Welcoming the texture of a carpet with relief. Digging your toes into the fluff. It’s weird to miss carpets in the middle of the night, but you do. Their last reminder is the one snoring woman’s husband uses as his mattress, an object completely out of your reach. What interior designer forgot about additional carpets onboard a luxury ship?

In front of you a door opens. Some silhouettes leave their cabin in hurry. Hushed giggles resonate down the hallway. You can neither make out a sense to their conversation nor put faces to dark shapes. But they do sound familiar. The silhouettes disappear behind a corner in the hallway’s other end.

Heart beating fast, your steps speed up. A thought, string of memories, collection of pictures swims in the back of your head. Common sense is the only thing keeping you from describing them. Number 203 is meaningful, though it’s just a number.

You’re just by the door when it opens again.

“Oh!” Jisoo. Jisoo? Jisoo! “You scared me!” She laughs, eyes morphing into crescent moons. But as soon as her voice raises in volume, Jisoo covers her mouth, worried she will wake up other residents.

“I see there are more night owls around the ship?” You motion at where the two silhouettes, you can now safely identify, disappeared.

The girl looks in the same direction. Her eyes stay there for a longer time, while you watch her profile. Perhaps (you won’t admit it), you should be thanking the snoring woman for a chance to see Jisoo at a different time. Her hair is disheveled, but the little mess is a beautiful one. Eyes glossy, lips dry, t-shirt creased. She’s a painting you enjoy watching. Even when her smile disappears as she returns to facing you.

You grow nervous instantly, because the mood shifts and you slightly prefer the easy-going Jisoo to solemn and serious Jisoo. The easy-going one loves joking, which is much better, as it consists mostly of laughing at yourself and your inability to form proper sentences.

“Uh, yes. I don’t know why Ryujin and Yuna left though. They didn’t tell me. Probably to spy on Yeji.” Pause. “Or something...”

“So, are you going to follow them?” Jisoo seems to consider your question.

Then she steers the conversation to your person.

“I don’t know- Why are you up? Came to spy on Yeji too?”

“As if it has ever bothered me what's Yeji doing at night. I have my own problems, mainly, a snoring roommate.”

Jisoo nods her head in understanding, mouth opened to build on the effect. You’re stuck in nocturnal silence, both scared to break it. Frankly, you don’t even have any idea where to go from here. Maybe you should just return to exploring the ship, but then again, it’s not everyday that you catch Jisoo alone.

“I’ve been walking around, you know, exploring.”

Again, she nods.

“So you’re looking for some place to rest?”

“In a way, yes. Do you happen to know any?” She smiles.

“Actually, I do.”

You’re surprised by her boldness. Jisoo lies down on her bed and you’re watching her with an awkward surprise.

“Don’t make it weird, I’m just sharing a bed with you. Okay, perhaps it does sound weird. But we’re just going to sleep, not- do anything weird? Okay, ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” To be honest, her joke doesn’t make you feel any better about the situation.

After a defeated sigh, you walk over to the bed, eyes never once meeting hers. Jisoo holds the edge of her duvet. She’s patiently waiting until your stiff posture joins her side. Then she slowly follows your lead.

The first thing you register is the smell - Jisoo’s smell. It’s an overwhelming sensations you’re eager to breathe in after many attempts at small doses. Now that you can experience it in its full form, you can safely say it’s bound to become one of your favorite sensations. It causes you excitement, one that you’re embarrassed to show. Maybe she will call you a creep if you don’t stop yourself from smiling? Suddenly worried, you look for other things to focus on. Like the coldness of her skin against your left hand’s knuckles. Frankly, it’s stuck. The bed is meant for one person and you can’t just sprawl across its surface.

A moment of hesitation passes. Then you turn to lie on your side, facing Jisoo.

At first you’re both stuck in shy silence. Jisoo’s looking down, perhaps thinking over something. But you don’t plan on disturbing her. It’s as if you’ve forgotten your tongue - you can’t even feel it. The darkness is all-consuming and you wish to stay hidden in its embrace, so Jisoo never learns of how hard it is for you to say a word, but also look away.

“So.”

Her eyes, so hesitant to meet yours, finally reach them. She’s surprised to find you staring back.

“How bad is it?”

“Bad?”

“Yeah, how bad is lying next to me on a bed?” Dark eyes pull away to avoid you.

Your brain orders you to be smooth. “It’s not bad.” isn’t the type of smooth you had in mind.

“But not good either? Ah, forget I said anything-” Jisoo laughs nervously through clenched teeth. “I’m just nervous. Because I made you come here with me! That’s why I’m nervous.”

“Jisoo,” The silence returns. “you don’t have to be nervous around me. I know, my magnetic personality and good looks are to die for,” She snickers in disbelief at your words. “but I’d rather you felt comfortable around me. Which doesn’t mean our current bed situation- I mean, I don’t mind it.”

There’s a blunt taste on your tongue. As if you have just finished your entry for a spelling bee and were in dire need of some water. Some actually meaning a lot.

“Do you think your roommates will make fun of us?”

“Definitely.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Silence.

“Um-” She dares a look into your eyes before dropping them again. “Let’s go to bed then, hm?”

You don’t think you’ll be able to fall asleep next to her. At least not with the possibility of seeing her face at the cost of merely opening your eyes. Jisoo seems to have the same idea. Her turning around causes a way too powerful sting somewhere in your abdomen. Before you know it, instead of her soft face structure, you’re looking at void-like black of her hair.

Your left hand sticks to your chest, but what about the right one? Keeping it on your thigh feels tiring. Placing it on Jisoo’s side? Too wonderful and too dangerous. Even if you’re itching to offer yourself, you cannot imagine the amount of courage it would demand from you. Instead, you rest it in the hold of your left hand. That way, perhaps, it will be stopped before any unconscious action takes place.

For a moment, you wonder, would she mind? Still, it’s a question you have no answers for. You also have no idea what will happen in the morning. How will the girls react? What will Jisoo do? How will you feel in the morning and will your left hand let go because of that damn itching...

Perhaps, the snoring woman is weaker than your true enemy - your vivid imagination.

“Goodnight Jisoo.”

“Goodnight.”

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[witch-and-a-half]

playing house

okay so i loved this concept for my first charlie fic but i kind of had to chase the story around? if that makes sense. so it’s a bit longer than i intended and i’m not sure i love it but it was a good first attempt. its also kinda hard to write the weasley’s and i want to get better at it but its such a difficult mix of main and side characters and they all had to be young here too... hopefully i didn’t botch ginny to badly !!!

( i also used this site to figure out how old everybody would be, but its basically just a year before ron starts at hogwarts )

notes: charlie weasley x reader, fluff, no specific house, summer before 7th year

words: 3.1k

- - -

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?” Molly stood in front of the Burrow fireplace, carefully studying you and Charlie. Arthur came down the stairs with a trunk in hand and his favorite cap on. “They can handle it Mollykins. By this time next year, they’ll be finished with school and out on their own, it won’t kill them to get a bit of practice.” He chortled as he came to stand beside his wife.

Molly’s voice raised an octave, “With five young children?”

Arthur just nodded his head in defeat as Charlie spoke, “We’ll be alright, mum, really. It’s barely a weekend, and if there’s an emergency we’ll send for you.” He tightened his arm around you as he spoke. Molly exhaled deeply and her shoulders relaxed.

“Oh alright… but if there is any trouble you let us know!” She waggled her fingers at the two of you and Arthur made eye contact with you before giving a subtle eye roll.

“Of course, Molly. We just want you to have a good trip.” You smiled.

Charlie chuckled, “Yeah Mum, geez. Promise you’ll at least try to relax.”

Molly scoffed before pulling your boyfriend and yourself into a tight hug. Then, she and Arthur took floo powder into their hands and disappeared to a beach house where Charlie had arranged for them to spend the next two days. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous about watching the Weasley clan, but you also knew how proud Charlie was to be giving his mother a much-needed break, and there was something kind of fun about the challenge of wrangling the red-heads.

The green fire in the fireplace had barely dissipated when you heard a scream from upstairs. “Oh, Merlin…” Charlie groaned before heading up the staircase, and you followed close behind. Before you could figure out where the wailing was coming from, one of the twins came racing out of Ron’s bedroom. Charlie swiftly blocked him with his arm and, leaning down, whispered, “You’d better be sat on the couch waiting for us when we come down, or else I’ll have [y/n] give you the leg-lock curse and you won’t be able to move until Mum gets back.” The twelve-year-old looked up at you suspiciously before sprinting down the stairs.

“You won’t really make me curse your little brother, will you?” You raised your brows at Charlie. He shrugged playfully in response, “Depends on if he’s on the couch or not.”

When you opened the door to Ron’s room, half his bed was up in flames and he was cowered in the corner. You were about to start panicking when Charlie groaned and murmured, “Not again…”

“Again?” You cried as Charlie took out his wand to put the fire out. As he did so, you turned your attention to Ron, who was beginning to seem more irritated than scared. “What happened?” You asked gently.

“They’re pyros!” He said spitefully. Ron recovered quite quickly and ran off when Charlie told him the Ginny had been looking for him—which you knew was a lie.

Charlie took your hand and started to head back downstairs. Pausing at the top of the staircase, he turned back and called out, “George! You’d better be in the living room in 30 seconds or else.”

When you got downstairs, you found Fred sitting on the couch. He was eating a box of Bertie Bott’s that he was definitely not supposed to have at 10am, but at least he was on the couch. Percy was standing next to the couch with his arms folded, glowering at his little brother. Charlie pulled you to sit beside him on the loveseat opposite Fred, and you heard George’s feet scurrying down the stairs.

“Oi, so Perce is just here to watch us get in trouble?” Fred said through a mouthful of beans.

“As always,” George mumbled as he sat beside his brother.

Charlie inhaled deeply and you braced yourself for the stern lecture he had prepared, but his voice came out gentler than you’d expected, “For the love of Merlin, will you two please just cool it for a day?” Fred and George’s faces scrunched with suspicion, and Percy looked a bit disappointed that his brothers weren’t being punished satisfactorily. Charlie continued, “If you don’t give us too much trouble, I promise we’ll give you a reward before Mum and Dad get back.”

The twins’ faces lit up at the mention of a reward before they turned to look at each other. They silently deliberated together, and Charlie squeezed your hand. You knew he didn’t have any such thing planned, but his quick thinking was impressive enough.

“Okay.” Fred said slowly, “We won’t deliberately cause any high-impact trouble.”

Charlie chuckled, “That’s all I ask,”

George stood, “But we will be expecting a good prize.”

Giving them a nod, Charlie squeezed your hand again. That’s when you had an idea, “How about you three go practice Quidditch? That way you’ll be prepared for tryouts when school starts.”

Percy didn’t look excited about this, but he dutifully followed the twins out of the house anyway.

“Good one.” Charlie pecked you on the cheek and you rested your head on his shoulder.

After a few moments, you looked up at Charlie, whose hand had found your thigh and was rubbing mindless circles with his thumb. “What prize are you planning for them?” You asked.

Charlie scoffed, “Dunno. We’ll think of something.” You rolled your eyes as he gave you a cheeky grin.

~ ~ ~

Fred, George, and Percy were still in the yard on their broomsticks as the sun began to set. Ron and Ginny were playing Wizarding Chess at the dining table while you and Charlie were making dinner. He was chopping vegetables to roast while you were cooking some chicken on the stovetop.

The silence was a bit eerie, so you asked Charlie one of your favorite questions: “Tell me about your dreams for the future again Charles.”

He chuckled, mostly to himself, before telling you again, “I want to run off and work with dragons. Maybe somewhere far away. Just go and see where Dragonology leads me… or I guess any other work with magical animals… but I’d like dragons.”

You beamed and prepared to ask him to tell you more about dragons—just to hear him drone on about the thing he was most passionate about. But you glanced up at him before you spoke. He was already looking at you when your eyes met his. Charlie wore a bold grin and there was a brightness in his eyes that you adored. For a moment, you just looked at each other contentedly from across the kitchen.

Charlie broke eye contact first. His eyes flicked downwards for a split second as he opened his mouth, but he was staring back into your eyes before he spoke. “And you’re there. With me… if you’d like.”

At first, you thought you were going to cry. Charlie had never said anything like that to you. Sure, you’d been together for a little over a year now and had been friends for years before, but you weren’t quite sure what the plan was for when the two of you graduated. You had a few different ideas of what you wanted to do after Hogwarts—you’d always envied the way Charlie had known what he wanted since before he even started school—and any of your possible plans were flexible enough that you could move or travel with Charlie. The prospect of adventuring with the love of your life was exhilarating. You pictured a little cottage on an animal reserve where you and Charlie could spend every evening making dinner together and chatting about your days. Maybe you could start a garden out front and spend your days off taking little trips to faraway places.

Charlie’s expectant face brought you quickly back down to earth. “Oh,” you exhaled dreamily, “Yes. Of course, I want to be there.”

You swiftly turned off the stovetop before hurrying into Charlie’s outstretched arms. He wrapped them around you tightly, and your head was pressed firmly to his chest. His woodsy cologne enveloped you. Charlie rested his chin on the top of your head and quietly exhaled, “I can’t wait.”

~ ~ ~

Dinner and bedtime was a bit hectic but relatively uneventful. You couldn’t tell if Ron and Ginny were just on their best behavior for you and Charlie or if the twins had told them about the secret reward. When you asked Charlie about it, he just shrugged and said, “I try not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when it comes to this lot.”

Once all the kids were in bed and you had cleaned up from dinner, Charlie sunk into one of the living room chairs, grabbing your hips along the way so you were sat across his lap. “You really want to come run away with me after school ends?” His voice was low and dreamy but tinged slightly with worry.

His one arm was wrapped around your middle, but the other rested in your lap. You wrapped both of your hands around his before responding, “Of course. I’d love nothing more.” Then you pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt him smile under your lips.

“Let’s go to bed,” He whispered and you stood, following him up the stairs to his room.

~ ~ ~

You woke the next morning wrapped in Charlie’s arms. The sun was up and light flooded the window of his room, but Charlie was still snoring lightly. For a minute, you let your mind wander: imagining waking up like this every day. The thought alone made your heart soar. After a while, you whispered, “Psst, Charlie, we should get up.”

He groaned in response and the arm around your back pulled you closer. “Mmm… not yet.” He murmured sleepily. It was so tempting, but then you imagined Fred and George setting the kitchen ablaze making breakfast, so you wriggled out of Charlie’s strong arms. “Suit yourself…” You said, standing.

Charlie’s eyes were still closed but his arms were playfully outstretched, hoping you were still within reach.

“Hm… maybe I’ll just wear one of your shirts to make breakfast…” Charlie’s eyes shot open quick enough to see you grab his shirt off the dresser and dart out his bedroom door.

Charlie groaned again before pulling himself out of bed and following you to the kitchen. You were standing at the sink in his shirt and pajama shorts, filling up the kettle to make tea. He pecked you on the cheek just before reaching into the cupboard above your head. As Charlie made toast, you asked, “Have you thought of a prize for everybody’s good behavior?”

His voice was still heavy with sleep when he responded, “Not sure yet. Maybe we could all go into town for ice cream cones?”

Before you could agree to the idea, Fred, George, and Ron marched into the room chanting, “Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!” They were still in their pajamas and had messier hair than normal.

“Only if you can keep it together for another couple hours,” Charlie warned as Ron grabbed the toast that Charlie had just finished putting jam on. You giggled at Charlie’s exasperation, which dissipated when he saw your smile.

A few minutes later, Percy and Ginny had joined you all at the table. “We need to de-gnome the garden before Mum and Dad get back and I also think we should probably clean a bit…”

Ron groaned into his glass of milk and Ginny giggled beside him. You caught her eye and gave her a smile that she shyly reciprocated.

“We can split up the work?” You suggested to Charlie, “I can take whoever wants to tidy up inside and you can take the rest outside?”

He nodded. Charlie ended up taking Ron and the twins into the garden to de-gnome, and Percy and Ginny stayed behind to help you make sure everything got put away correctly. After cleaning up the downstairs, Percy agreed to clean the boys’ rooms—including replacing Ron’s charred pillows from the day before—while you helped Ginny with her room and the bathrooms.

You chatted a bit with the youngest Weasley, asking her about the posters on her wall and what sort of things she liked to do. She was still a bit shy around you—maybe she was a little unsure about having another girl in the house—but was warming up quickly. The two of you finished cleaning as Percy changed Ron’s bed sheets, so you turned to Ginny and whispered, “How about we go make lemonade for the boys since we’ve finished first?”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Okay!”

Ron, Charlie, Fred, and George came in—flushed from the warm weather—only a few minutes after Percy finished upstairs. Charlie noticed the lemonade right as he came in, giving you a grateful peck on the cheek. Ginny proudly gave her brothers their glasses of lemonade, and George gave her an appreciative pat on the head. It was a very domestic moment, and, with Charlie’s arm wrapped around your waist and the gaggle of redheads in front of you, there was a sudden pang in your chest. It was as if Charlie could read your mind. He suddenly pulled you slightly toward him and caught your lips with his, which were sweet with lemonade.

“Ach-” One of the twins cried.

“I think we all should get sprinkles for having to witness that,” The other said, with raised brows.

Charlie just rolled his eyes.

Then Ron piped up from the table, “When are we getting ice cream…?”

Ginny’s eyes brightened. Maybe nobody had told her about the ice cream trip.

~ ~ ~

You held Charlie’s hand as you trailed behind the younger kids. The afternoon was warm but not too humid, and the sun shone through the tree branches onto the path ahead. When you reached the town, Charlie led the way to the ice cream parlor. Everyone got to pick out a flavor and a cone before sitting at one of the plastic tables outside to eat. Listening to the Weasley family chat and joke as though you were part of the family made your heart soar. Percy told you about the classes he was taking this year and Ron showed you a Chocolate Frog card he had stuffed in his pocket.

As everyone finished their cones, Fred noticed a store across the street with colorful toys in the window. “Charlie we have to go in there,” He pointed, transfixed on the storefront. Charlie glanced around the table, “Fred, not everybody is done with their ice cream.”

“I don’t mind. I can wait with [y/n].” Ginny took another lick of her ice cream, which was beginning to melt. Charlie caught your eye, noticing the excitement on your face, “Okay, meet us in there when you’re done, Gin.” He stood and walked the boys across the street.

Ginny looked over to you, still licking her cone, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” You smiled.

“Do you love Charlie?” Ginny asked. She was suddenly much bolder now that she’d warmed up to you. The tone of her voice was just casual enough to counterbalance the determination in her eyes. You were almost more taken aback by her tact than by the question itself.

After a moment, you decided to be honest, “Yes, I do love Charlie. Is that okay?”

Ginny seemed satisfied with your answer and gave a sturdy nod, “Okay,” She took a bite of her cone and looked at you intently. You weren’t sure what to say, or if you should say anything at all, but Ginny didn’t seem to mind the silence. She spoke again after a minute, “I like your fingernail polish.”

~ ~ ~

The trek back from town tired everyone out, just in time for Mrs. and Mr. Weasley to return. When they appeared in the fireplace, Ron and Percy were playing some sort of Wizarding card game, Charlie was going over Gryffindor Quidditch plays with the twins, and you were painting Ginny’s nails the same shade of blue you wore. Everyone sprung to their feet to greet Molly and Arthur, and Charlie motioned for you to stand beside him.

“See! They’re all alive,” Arthur exclaimed to his wife, who playfully slapped his chest. She looked at you reassuringly, “I didn’t doubt it!” and starting doling out hugs.

“How was your trip?” Charlie said as his mother wrapped her arms tightly around his middle.

She beamed, “Oh lovely. We sat by the beach, had a nice dinner, and explored the little town…”

Her voice softened as she hugged you, “Thank you so much, dear. Hopefully, they weren’t too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all…” You said earnestly. Charlie finished the sentence for you though, “After the fire everything went swimmingly.”

Molly spun to Fred and George, who were giving Charlie a death glare. “A fire?” She cried, “Oh you two…” But she just shook her head at them.

After Molly and Arthur put their trunks upstairs, they found you and Charlie in the kitchen making dinner. “Oh, you two… have a rest!” Arthur chortled, shooing you away from the stovetop. Molly pulled you aside, but Charlie quickly joined beside you.

“I simply must pay you two for watching everyone,” Molly pulled out a coin purse but Charlie reached out a hand to stop her. “Mum…” His voice was warm, but still held a hint of warning.

“Molly, it was no trouble, really. We wanted to do it.” You cut in. Charlie’s hand wordlessly found yours as you spoke. His warm broad fingers wrapping around yours lovingly.

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip, thinking for a moment. Charlie’s stern gaze made her exhale in resignation. “Alright then… if you’re sure. But I plan on returning the favor for you one day.”

It seemed as though she didn’t realize the weight of her words as she left the kitchen to unpack. Your face flushed and Charlie’s hand tightened around yours. He looked at you with a vague, soft smile and a look that you couldn’t quite read. Before you could say anything, Arthur’s chuckle cut into the silence, “She doesn’t mean anytime soon though.”

Now Charlie’s cheeks were red. He didn't meet your eyes but pulled you outside to sit on the back stoop. Neither of you spoke as you watched the sunset. Charlie’s arm was wrapped firmly around your waist and your head rested on his shoulder. It was fun to think about the future, but, in that moment, you were just grateful for the present.