#I can think of few things they'd enjoy less than having to sit quietly for three entire days watching other kids quiz

[asinglesock]

I am overcome with gratefulness that I don't have to take my Bible quizzing team to regionals. like I think the next five months will be infinitely more bearable now that I don't have to plan for regionals and take time off for regionals and register for regionals and pay for regionals and drive to Oregon for regionals.

[kenananamin]

Beside Each Other

Chapter 1: Moving in

[masterlist]

Summary: Single mom moves into a third floor apartment with her 5 year old daughter. Nanami Kento lives on the second floor and knows someone is moving in when he hears the furniture scraping across the floor to find its spot in the apartment. He expects the noise to end in a day or two but then hears the little pitter patter of tiny feet followed by a muffled, "Stop running!" Well... this should be interesting.

fluff, nanami kento x fem!reader

~3.6k words

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Monday

*Second floor, Nanami's apartment* 

Team leader Nanami Kento grabs his mug of freshly brewed tea and goes to sit in his office to begin the work day. It's almost the same thing every single day but he enjoys the job so far. The team is responsible and quick, he can work quietly from home, and most importantly, the pay is much better than any of his past jobs. He'll be able to save most of his check and save enough to move to a better place soon. The current building was breaking down and it seemed that every neighbor had a new complaint every day. He really does feel bad for anyone that falls for the listing and is conned by the landlady who just wants to fill the apartments for rent. He should've known better, a two bed two bath for much less than anything in the area was bound to have its conditions.

He sighs thinking about the apartment but logs in for the day and begins reading through the emails that came in over the weekend. A few emails in and he hears a couple loud thumps upstairs. He knew Truman left last week but the landlady was very quick to con someone (again) to take that space.

Nanami sighs, "Welcome to the money pit, neighbor."

He continues his morning while hearing the furniture scraping across the floor to find its spot in the apartment. The heavier furniture was loud and slow and the lighter stuff was clear and quick. It should only be a day or two at most of this noise. That is, until he hears quick and small pitter patters from the living room to right above his office.

Nanami pauses and focuses to listen through the thin walls. He hears a very muffled, "This is my room, mommy! Mommy! Momma!"

A kid? Nanami wonders.

*Third floor, your apartment*

You swing the door open and pout at the old discolored paint. This apartment wasn't at the top of your list, not even in your top 10, but it was cheaper than everything else and close to Yunn's school. Mr. Truman warned you about this apartment but also said it was a good temporary spot for you and Yunn. At least until your application was approved for any of the other apartments, townhouses, or rental houses you applied for. Mr. Truman and Jessie promised they'd let you know if they ever passed by any 'For Rent' sign.

You move out of the way while holding Yunn's hand to let the mover see the space to know what to bring up first. They quickly scan the room and go back down to bring the first bunch of furniture. You walk to the kitchen bar to check the papers left on the counter and look up to see the movers with the couch and side tables. 

"Momma, can I go see the rooms?"

"Yeap, but remember what I told you please."

Yunn indeed does not remember and sprints off to one end of the apartment towards the smaller room. "This is my room, mommy! Mommy! Momma!"

You try to do a quiet tip-toe run after your daughter to get her to quiet down. 

"Stop running!" you catch up to your excited daughter. “Yunnuen, I had told you to please not run and not yell. Please, baby, we just talked about this.”

She looks up and nods but continues to look around the room. Mr. Truman had said that although the neighbors constantly complained about management, they were very nice to each other. He told you the downstairs neighbor wouldn’t mind a little noise but you wanted to avoid making any noise, period. Mr. Truman said the neighbor worked from home and the last thing you wanted was to disturb someone while they worked or become a nuisance when they're trying to rest.

“Knock knock!”

“Ms. Jessie!” Yunn ran to the room door where Mr. Truman and Jessie stood.

“The movers are in and out and the door is open, we hope you don’t mind that we came in!”

Jessie was Yunn’s old pre-k teacher. She knew everything from your work schedule, to Yunn’s dad, to your struggle of finding a new place. You both grew close throughout the year especially after Yunn moved up to kinder. Mr. Truman is Jessie’s father. He works as a janitor at the same school and saw you often when you’d stay a bit longer after school to talk to Jessie and let Yunn play in the playground. He had to move in with Jessie after a back injury and told you about his old apartment. He did warn you about the shabbiness of it but said it’d be alright in the meantime. The kind older man offered to help with any maintenance issues and although you agreed at the time, you knew you would never call the poor man to work with his injured back. You’d figure it out… you hoped.

“No no, of course not! You didn’t have to come! It’s your day off, you should’ve stayed home to relax.”

Jessie looks up from hugging Yunn, “Didn’t want to stay home. I can help put some of the boxes in the correct rooms and at least start unboxing a few things.”

“And I wanted to show you a couple things around the building. Most of the things in here are old and get stuck. We all have — or had for me, our own ways of doing things around here,” Mr. Truman smiled at you. The gentlest smile, similar to the smile he always had around Jessie. “Come on, follow me down to the mailbox. Damn thing always gets stuck”

If anyone knew the building, it would be him. You start to follow Mr. Truman out the door when you turn and tell Yunnuen to stay with Jessie and not leave her sight.

*First floor, mailboxes*

Nanami pushes his mailbox slot to get it open. He wasn’t expecting any mail but he was making time for the new upstairs neighbor to finish moving things in the room directly above him to make a couple work calls. He takes a coupon page from the inside and closes his box. 

“Be careful with the last steep step here, hold that baby’s hand tight when coming down or she might tumble one day.”

The familiar voice made Nanami turn quickly. Was that…? “Truman?” Nanami asked.

“Nanami! Hello boy, good thing I caught you here, there’s someone you should meet.”

You were a couple steps behind Mr. Truman, carrying a couple welcome bags with things the elderly neighbors had given you after knowing you were a friend of their close friend and had a little girl.

“Nanami, this is y/n, she’s moving into my old place with her little girl. y/n, this is Nanami, the downstairs neighbor,” Mr. Truman fumbles for the mailbox key you handed him on the staircase, “I’m gonna show her my trick to box 303.”

Only her and her daughter... single mom? Nanami extends his hand, “Well, welcome to the building, y/n.”

You shake his hand and smile, “Thank you, Mr. Truman mentioned you work from home. Please let me know if we get too loud, I’ll try to keep our volume down either way but please let me know if it’s too much.”

Nanami shakes his head, “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

You smile again, but still feel a little bad at the thought that Yunnuen could be running around while this man tried to work. Despite Mr. Truman telling you about this man's calm and patient behavior, you still wanted to avoid any extreme noise. It’s a temporary place, but you still want to be considerate to others.

Mr. Truman calls you over to show you how he would push the mailbox up and slightly to the left to get it open. Mr. Truman closes the mailbox after wiggling it around and continues to talk about the trash chute, the main doorway, avoiding the elevator unless you have heavy things, the never opened or available maintenance office, the broken window at the end of the hall, the flickering light on the 2nd floor staircase, and on and on and on. 

“Call me when you need something. I’m still close and know this building better than anyone, including that landlady!” Mr. Truman hits his chest to emphasize his point, making you smile. 

Nanami notices your hesitation about calling Truman, but excuses himself to go up to his apartment. 

“Don’t work too much, boy! It’s a holiday and it’s supposed to be a long weekend!”

Nanami gives a small smile to the old man, “Just a bit more today, promise.” He politely smiles, nods towards you and turns to leave.

Handsome, you thought.

Pretty, Nanami thought.

Thursday

*First floor, maintenance office*

Nanami opens the main entrance door and is immediately greeted by the warmth of the first floor. He pulls the bags on his right hand closer to himself and begins going up the stairs, but stops when he sees you trying to peek through the closed blinds of the maintenance office.

Nanami steps away from the staircase and walks a few feet towards you, “They’re supposed to be here Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays at least half day but I’ve never seen them open for more than a couple hours at a time. You might have missed them already.”

You quickly turn towards him, slightly disgruntled at the closed office. You put your hands on your hips and ask, "do you think they’ll come in tomorrow?"

Nanami slightly tilts his head to the side and without saying a word, you understood completely. You sigh heavily and pace in front of the office before pointing to the closed door, “Would you happen to have a number or contact for any maintenance person?”

"Yeah," he shrugs, but before you get too excited, he said, "Truman. He was our unofficial in-house maintenance man and he was the one that everyone called."

You hesitate before saying, "I wouldn’t want to bother him. His back is still hurt pretty bad and I wouldn’t want him on the floor."

"On the floor?" Nanami raises his eyebrows.

Nanami notices how you hesitate to answer, but you continue, "I noticed a small leak underneath the kitchen sink and I thought I just had to tighten it so I did but it’s been leaking nonstop since yesterday. I wouldn’t want to call Mr. Truman and ask him to basically crawl under my sink to figure out what’s wrong."

Nanami looks at his watch and sees he has 40 minutes left of his lunch. He looks back up, "I know we just met and I’m not a maintenance man but Truman did teach me a few things. Before you, I was the youngest in this building and he said every young man needed to learn how to handle things around his apartment," He chuckles at the memory of the older man happily walking downstairs to Nanami's apartment to help, "He helped me at first, but towards the end, he would just bring me the tools and supplies and watch me fix things on my own. I can go up and see what’s wrong with it, I have about 40 minutes left so I can at least check it out."

"Didn't you just say Mr. Truman would take his tools to you?" you ask, trying to find a way to sneak in a kind no, thank you. 

"Yeah but he gave me about half his tool box when he moved out. Said I’d need it eventually," Nanami grins at the memory, "guess he was right."

Nanami sees you hesitate again and look down the hall. I don't want to ask any neighbor for this kind of help, I just moved in and don't know anything about him, you think. But — I do need the help, I can't have Yunn in a place without a properly working kitchen sink. You cross your arms and tell him, "I wouldn’t want to impose. I haven’t even been here in a week and I would already be asking you for something."

Nanami smiles and shakes his head. "It would be no imposition," he nods towards the staircase and motions you to walk up with him. "And I think you’ve held out long enough, maybe longer than the rest of us. A lot of us came down to the maintenance office the second day we were here."

Damn... I guess I can repay him later?

You lightly laugh and start ascending the stairs with your neighbor. "I'm y/n by the way, I know the last time I saw you was Monday," you stretch your hand out and Nanami introduces himself again.

"How can I pay you back? I wouldn’t want a free favor and I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity."

"Well let’s see what the issue is first. But I really don’t mind, Truman helped me when I needed it most. I’d be happy to help."

You turned your face away from Nanami, but he saw your tight-lipped smile. You both reach the second floor and tell Nanami you have a few tools he can use so he wouldn't have to stop to get his tools. Nanami nods and gives a small ok as you slowly reach your apartment door.

"Let me just say that I haven’t really had a chance to organize things how I would like and my daughter is not very good at picking things up before school," you reach into your pocket for the key and start to open your door.

Nanami laughs a bit behind you as you open the door. If it weren’t because you and Truman have mentioned your daughter, or the toys splattered on the living room floor, he wouldn’t believe a kid lived above him. Besides the first day and the chaos of moving in, he never heard any small footsteps running around or a child's laugh through the walls. He was somewhat impressed that you had kept your promise about keeping the noise down, but he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed though. Maybe he was looking forward to the noise of a child's laughter, sometimes the evenings were too quiet or they were filled with the elderly neighbor's drama filled evening programs.

"May I?" Nanami points to the bags in his hand and a spot on the floor near your door.

"Oh, I can take those, we can just put them on the table."

Nanami shrugs his shoulders a bit, his heavy coat becoming heavier in your warm apartment. You put his bags on an entryway table and ask him to follow you to the kitchen. He had been inside Truman’s apartment before and even though he knows it's the exact same layout as his own, he says nothing and lets you lead him in. 

Nanami sees you keep a good few feet from him in your apartment and he honestly can’t blame you, you just let a new neighbor you don’t know into your house. He avoids getting closer than necessary to not make you uncomfortable and opens the cabinets under the kitchen sink. You open the cupboard beside the sink and take out your toolbox for him to use.

"Thank you," he smiles and gives you a quick glance before turning back to the pipe underneath the sink. He shrugs his shoulders again to try to shift the increasingly warm jacket and reaches for the wrench to start working on the sink trap.

You leave the small kitchen and head for the area on the other side of the bar. If Nanami looked up, he would be able to find you and you weren’t sure where to stand while he worked. You didn't want to hover, but you also didn’t feel like you should leave him completely alone since he was doing you a favor. You grab a closed box and start unpacking the extra dishes and utensils. You can’t see what he’s doing exactly but you hear a couple tools moving on the pipes and the clanking of other tools in the toolbox.

You grab another box and start removing the newspaper from the top when you see Nanami shrugging again. Since it was cold outside, you always kept your home slightly warmer for Yunn. You’re comfortable and not too warm in what you’re wearing, but a 6-foot well-built man with a winter coat must feel like an oven.

"Umm, let me take your jacket. I can put it by your bags so it’s out of your way if you'd like." Your neighbor looks up and although you can only see the top half of his face, you notice the slight sweat building on his brow.

"Thank you, I don’t think it’ll take much longer, but I appreciate it," he drops the tool in his hand and stands to take off his jacket. He was definitely handsome, very handsome, in fact, and apparently very helpful. You nod and smile at the man and quickly turn to put his jacket by the entryway.

You return to your spot on the other side of the bar and he stands back up after unpacking your third box.

"So the sink trap is going to have to be replaced. If you ask management for the sink trap alone, then they can get it to you maybe early next week. Can't promise they'll do anything for the labor part of it but they'll send the part somewhat quickly," Nanami closes the cupboard and reaches back down for the toolbox.

You nod and take a mental note of what he says, "Can you show me which part that is? I can change it as soon as they give it to me."

Nanami looks at you round the kitchen bar to move next to him and asks, "Are you sure? I’m sure you would be able to figure it out, but I wouldn’t mind coming back and switching it quickly. This alone took," he looks back at his watch and continues, "10 minutes." 

You shift your weight from one leg to the other and contemplate his offer, "That’s a huge imposition, I can’t ask you to fix or switch everything for me."

Nanami gets on one knee to put the tools back in the cupboard where you retrieved them from. "I work eight hours a day, but I don’t have an exact assigned time to work. I can take my breaks whenever I want as long as I finish everything so I'd be able to replace it even during a break."

You hesitate again, but he continues, "Truman never let anybody help him. With the condition of the sink trap, I imagine that he couldn’t fix this himself, but he would be willing to help any of us if we needed anything. Think of this as me repaying him."

"Actually, he probably wasn't even aware of this, his daughter would take him home with her a lot towards the end of his lease here," you look up to your neighbor’s eyes. Even though the thought of a complete stranger in the same house as your daughter makes you nervous, you admit that you might need that help. It might be worth trusting Nanami especially when Mr. Truman kept talking about him so highly after your mailbox interaction last time.

The man is now gently smiling at you, waiting for your answer, and you smile back. "I work at the office two to three times a week. I work from home the rest of the week. I can let you know when I finally catch management so they can give me or order the part.” You pick at your fingernail, “I want you to know that I really really would not want to ask for any help, especially anything keeping you away from your real work or anything of yours, but I really would — do appreciate your help."

Nanami gives you another small smile and says, "Great, just let me know. You can just knock on my door or give me a call." He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands you a business card. "It's my work cell but it's always on and I carry it everywhere."

You nod and take his card: Kento Nanami, Senior Mechanical Product Designer at Schneider Electric. Hmm, fancy. 

Nanami walks around you and heads to the front door. You follow behind as he's grabbing his jacket and bags from the table when he turns around to look at you. "I'm not sure if I should say this or not, but I really wouldn't mind if your daughter runs around a bit. I haven't heard anything from up here since the day you moved in... you don't have to be so careful. It's ok if you show a couple signs of life up here." He gives his last smile before opening the door, "See you soon, y/n." Nanami softly closes the door behind him. 

You stare at the door after his departure, his business card still in your hands. Show a couple signs of life up here. Anywhere else you've lived, you've been shushed through the walls and neighbors would complain about hearing your baby when you were trying your best to keep her quiet. You got used to keeping quiet ever since. Maybe it is ok — loud laughter, speaking a bit louder, maybe that much would be ok.

You smile down at the business card and put it behind your phone case for safekeeping.

Nanami returns to his apartment and looks at his watch. A little more than 25 minutes left for lunch. He sets his bags down and thinks about his pretty and nice neighbor. So she is a single mom. He sits on his couch and takes out his phone. 

Truman was no longer looking over his shoulder to make sure everything was being done correctly. Nanami did not want to mess this up.

Google search: how to replace a sink trap 

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Chapter 2: The Pizza and the Tooth Fairy

[serandipity]

❗❗❗ botw zelda and mipha || Surprise Kiss Meme - Closed || @agloryofuniicorns

Mipha sat on Vah Ruta, looking out across the lake her mind elsewhere for the moment. She had only recently accepted the mantle of the champion of Vah Ruta, but it felt like everything had changed. The Zora had always looked up to Princess, put her on a pedestal-- a graceful princess that could do no wrong, and accepting the role as a champion of the divine beast had only made this worse.

Truthfully, she was starting to feel even lonelier than usual. It was hard to be in the domain sometimes with every single person reminding her of every single duty she had to live up to. Wasn't this what she wanted though-- to be a strong and ephemeral presence like her late mother?

"Mipha." A voice cut through the noise in her head and she turned to see a familiar face.

"Ah... Princess Zelda. Did you go to the domain looking for me?" Mipha asked, "My apologies. I just... wanted some quiet." Mipha said quietly her hands folded neatly in her lap as Zelda came to sit beside her.

"I did, and when your father said you were off training I had a feeling you'd be out here."

Mipha smiled tersly, as if she was ashamed her lie had been discovered, "And here I am playing hooky. My apologies."

Zelda shook her head, "No. I understand how you feel. Believe me. I.... There's always something suffocating about the castle recently. It's another reason why I spend so much time away investigating Sheikah technology."

Zelda always had the uncanny ability to sense things. Maybe it was part of her abilities that she didn't realize or maybe it was just because they'd known each other long enough. They were both intimately aware of each other's struggles.

"I must seem rather foolish for feeling so morose given your own struggles with your court." Mipha muttered, looking away from her friend. Zelda shook her head once more.

"I think the feelings are similar regardless. The weight of duty can be crushing, and just because you can carry it, doesn't make it any less of a burden." Zelda reached out to take Mipha's hand in hers. Her hands were warm, but not soft. Her adventures had left them calloused much like Link's.

"Those are wise words, Princess... And here I thought I was the older one."

"Pfft... only by a few months. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me 'Zelda' when we're alone? We've known each other long enough, Mipha."

Mipha felt herself flushing ever so slightly. Mipha sometimes didn't know when to turn the formalities off. It was a small flaw that only Zelda was seemingly aware of.

"Forgive me." Mipha said softly, her hands gently squeezing Zelda's. Mipha didn't really want to admit it to herself, but having someone who could understand was truly a comfort. Zelda smiled warmly as they sat in silence for awhile, just enjoying each others company.

However, after a long silence Zelda once again spoke.

"Mipha, I've been thinking about what will happen once this war is done, and you... you've never been out of the Lanayru province outside of visiting Hyrule Castle, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"I was thinking maybe we could take a trip. Just the two of us."

"I fear without my unique needs I might be a poor travel companion. You would be better off taking someone like Lady Urbosa or Link, or.."

"But I want to take you," Zelda insisted. Mipha felt a small flush creeping across her skin, "I want both of us to be able to get away from our duties for a little while." Zelda seemed insistent. Their fingers were now laced together and Mipha could feel her heart rate beginning to pick up every so slightly. Had Zelda's hand always been so warm?

"But why me? Surely there are other people--"

"Because I..." Zelda's face was contemplative for a moment before she seemed to have settled on an idea. It was several long moments before Zelda leaned and Mipha found their lips touching. They were warm, much like her hands. They stayed like that for seemingly an eternity, and maybe Mipha, who could never quite articulate her feelings wished this moment could last just a little longer.

"Do you understand now?"

"...Yes."

Ah, but if only the fates had been as understanding.

[wondernimbus]

a drop in the ocean — sirius black

pairing: sirius black x female!reader

summary: sirius teaches reader that love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

warnings: cheating, swearing

a/n: this was inspired by the song “a drop in the ocean” by ron pope! this is a little different from what i'm used to since the overall theme is a lot more ??? mature ?? i guess ?? i kind of stepped out of my comfort zone with this but i hope you guys like it :')

It's bizarre how much pain can change you.

You become this entirely different person. You look the same on the surface, but somewhere deep inside you, you're someone else. You're stronger. Everything that has happened to you—all the tears you've shed, the people who have hurt you, the pain you've endured—all of them shapes you into something more. Something better.

And one day, you will wake up, look back at everything that you have endured, and you will smile. And it will feel like the puzzle pieces of the world have fallen back into place again—and maybe it's been that way for a long time. Maybe you've come so far in terms of healing and you're only just now starting to notice.

[Y/N] [Y/L/N] wakes up one summer morning, when the sun is warm and promise of a new day looms above her head. She swings her legs over her bed, pads over to the window in the corner of the room where sunshine filters through, draws the curtains open. Here she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and just—

Remembers.

And this time, it doesn't hurt anymore.

—

Sirius Black was a charmer.

He wasn't just handsome; he was attractive. He knew exactly how to get people to swoon over him without laying it on too thick. He'd send a quick glance over anyone's way—one that made them feel as though they were the only person on earth he could see—and that person would fall.

They'd want him, fooling themselves into the belief that they were different. That they were special in a way that none of Sirius Black's previous flings were.

They'd end up with their hearts broken, of course. Shattered to bits and left at their feet for them to clean up on their own, because Sirius just couldn't bother.

It would happen within a month or two. Some much less.

But [Y/N] lasted the longest.

She was in Ravenclaw, and had caught Sirius's eye in her sixth year. She wishes she could say that she was different—that she hadn't fallen for him the moment he'd gone up to her in the Great Hall and steered her away from her friends, asking for her name—but she wasn't. She'd taken one look at Sirius's eyes, seen what seemed like genuine sincerity in them, and felt her sixteen-year-old heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest against her will.

Sirius Black liked her.

It took a month before he asked her out. Made it, as some would say, "official". A part of [Y/N] knew that it wouldn't last long, but she would enjoy this—enjoy him—while she still had him. She'd never felt this way for anyone before, and despite her brain telling her that Sirius Black was trouble, her heart said otherwise.

A month together turned into two. And three, and then four, five, and suddenly the rest of Hogwarts was wondering when Sirius planned to break things off with her.

[Y/N] wondered it, too. But Sirius still looked at her the same way he had done all those months ago when he'd asked for her name, like she was everything in the world he'd been hoping for—like she was different. Like he actually held real feelings for her and not just the kind you try out one second and then get bored of the next.

She wanted to believe that look in his eyes, but she'd heard the rumors. and on top of that there were her friends' warnings, telling her that Sirius was no good for her and that he would break her heart one way or the other.

One day, while they sat at the balcony of Ravenclaw tower during one of the many times she'd snuck Sirius into the common room, she glanced at him.

They were sitting on the floor facing each other, legs crossed underneath them. Sirius's hands were in her own; her fingers played with the rings decorating his, turning them over and over.

"I like this one," she murmured, her touch lingering on the silver one on his middle finger. It was elegant, contrasting beautifully with his pale skin, simple and with what looked like a crest emblazoned on the middle. She looked up at him and found him looking at her—gaze intense and yet somehow also gentle, like he was memorizing every last detail of her face and committing them to memory. Softly, she asked, "Does it mean anything?"

Sirius made a small sound of confirmation, eyes leaving hers to look down at the ring, watching as her fingers grazed over it. "Yeah," he said quietly, blinking, lashes dusting pale cheeks before he was looking up at her again. It took a while for the rest of his words to get out of his mouth; he looked as though he was in deep thought, watching her with something unreadable dancing just behind his eyes.

And then Sirius was clearing his throat, shifting on where he sat. When he spoke next, his voice was oddly soft. Sincere. (And again [Y/N] found herself wondering: are you pretending?)

Because it was during moments like these that made her think that what Sirius felt for her was real.

"It's from, uh," he cleared his throat again, and [Y/N] didn't fail to notice the sudden rigidness of his shoulders. His gaze was skittering away, looking instead at the scenery below them instead of at her. "It's from James's family. The Potters. I.. ran away from my family, see, about a year ago."

As [Y/N] listened to him speak, watched as his eyes grew hard and he swallowed with difficulty, she realized—this was something important to him. He wouldn't lie about this just to get closer to her; he was laying part of himself bare to her that very few people had ever seen.

"They took me in," Sirius said quietly, still not quite looking at her. "When I had nowhere else to go, they let me stay over at their place. And that same Christmas, they gave me this ring to.. welcome me to their family, I guess." Emotion tugged his lips upwards at the corners. "I'm grateful for them," he told her, nodding a little to himself, and then he was looking up at her, meeting her eyes.

He was relieved to see that there wasn't any sympathy in them. just—and Sirius found it suddenly very hard to breathe—love. Pure, unadulterated love.

"You deserve to be happy," she told him, tone just as soft as the gentle smile on her lips. She pressed her palm into his, fingers slipping into the spaces between his own and squeezing. He squeezed back, still staring at her, and wondered if his lungs had forgotten to stop breathing.

[Y/N] leaned in, lips feather-light in how they ghosted over his cheek, and then she was pulling away, and Sirius's heart was doing something weird inside his chest. "I'm happy you're in a better place now."

Sirius couldn't breathe.

He surged forward, capturing his lips in her own, and at that moment both of them knew this was different; it felt different, more than just a press of the lips, more than just a kiss. Sirius pried her lips apart with his own, taking his sweet, gentle time, and it shot sparks across his body like he'd never felt before. They kissed slow like melted honey, tender and thorough and just a little overwhelming, and Sirius was dizzy with it—he felt like he was drowning.

He was drowning, but he loved every second of it.

—

A few months turned into a year, then two, and before anyone knew it, they were graduating. And still, as they left the gates of Hogwarts to venture out into the world waiting for them, Sirius and [Y/N] were still together. It went against everyone's expectations—and truthfully, [Y/N]'s own—but it made her happy, being with him. and she could only hope that she made him just as happy as he did to her.

They moved into a flat of their own in the outskirts of London. It wasn't anything grand, but it was cozy and clean and it only took a few months for the building to become something of a home to both of them.

[Y/N] loved every moment she spent with Sirius. All their shared smiles, their little, subtle moments of intimacy, the fleeting kisses, waking up in the morning with him by her side—everything.

She loved him so much that it hurt.

Three years into their relationship, as she lay in bed with Sirius, their entire bedroom dark and quiet save for both of their rhythmic breathing, she told him.

"I love you," she whispered into the skin of his shoulder. His arm was draped lazily around her, and she was curled up at his side—and everything about it was painfully familiar. The way his chest rose and fell. The way he stroked at her hair. How he shifted down just the tiniest bit to press a kiss to the crown of her head.

She loved Sirius so much that she didn't even realize—or maybe didn't care—that he never said it back.

—

Maybe it was something that was just ingrained into him. There could have been a million other reasons that all pointed to it not being her fault, but still, for the longest time, she believed that it was.

Sirius was seeing someone else, and he wasn't doing a very good job at hiding it.

One of her friends had told her that they'd seen Sirius in Diagon Alley with another woman at his side. [Y/N] had been angry, but not at Sirius—no, she'd lashed out at her friend, calling her a liar, saying that Sirius would never do something like that.

It's bizarre, the things you do for love. how much you hurt yourself in the process.

Only a week later, she found a letter tucked into the pocket of one of Sirius's coats. It was addressed to a name she did not recognize, and written underneath it were sweet, sweet words that [Y/N] could remember Sirius telling her once or twice before.

you make it hard for me to breathe

everything about you drives me absolutely mad

meet me tomorrow night at the leaky cauldron and

[Y/N] stopped reading. Her hands were shaking too badly; the letter fell from her hands and onto the floor. There was bile rising in the back of her throat.

Her knees went weak underneath her. She leaned on the bed for support—the same bed they'd laid in just this morning, the same bed he'd murmured the very same things written in that blasted letter—

"Oh, God." She let out a ragged, broken sound, hands clutching at her own chest as though it would help ease the pain. She couldn't breathe. "Fuck. Fuck."

[Y/N]  didn't know why, but when Sirius came back home that night, claiming that he'd gone over to James and Lily to say hi, she didn't bring up the letter right away.

"How's Lily?" she asked, not looking up from where she sat on the couch, instead pretending that she was invested in a copy of the Witch Weekly magazine in her hands.

"She's doing fabulous," grinned Sirius, shrugging off his coat as he made his way over to her. "Her belly bump's getting a lot more noticeable. James is seconds away from absolutely losing it. He's always frantic—I swear he thinks the baby's going to pop out out of bloody nowhere."

[Y/N]'s senses weren't working properly. She hummed something inaudible in response. A single, painful thought was wafting around her head—a question that she now knew the answer to perfectly well.

Sirius strode over to her, draping his coat over the arm of the couch before moving around the coffee table to sit next to her. He was smiling. "But how was your day, love?" he said, and then he was leaning over, reaching out with one hand to tilt the side of her head towards him—

You're pretending. Always pretending. As soon as he made contact with her skin, she was flinching away, and Sirius knew that something was wrong.

"Is everything alright, doll?" he asked, brows furrowing into a frown of concern. His hand hovered somewhere next to her face, still, fingertips just barely ghosting her cheek.

Before Sirius knew it, [Y/N] was standing up and flinging the daily prophet onto the coffee table. There was something swimming in her eyes that he couldn't quite pinpoint, but he felt something stirring in his gut—something like realization.

Something like guilt.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. "Doll," he said softly, and to him, it sounded like damnation.

And then [Y/N] said something that made his intestines feel like they were twisting into knots—"I know," [Y/N] said, without looking at Sirius. "I know everything."

Sirius blinked.

His grip on her wrist faltered, hand falling into his lap. There was a moment of thick, heavy silence. The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped by several degrees; Sirius felt cold sweat trickle down the side of temple. The space around him suddenly didn't seem to have enough oxygen.

And yet he let out a choked laugh, if only to quell the storm within his heart. "I don't," he began. His voice was unstable. "I'm not sure what you mean."

She was making her way to the door, but her movements were hesitant, like she didn't quite want to go—or rather, she was unsure where to go. She paused halfway to it, hands curling into fists at her sides.

"Just stop," she said. Resignation etched her voice. She leaned a hand on the wall, back still turned to him as she muttered to herself, sounding as though she'd lived entire countless lifetimes and had had enough, "Stop with the lies, Sirius. I'm done."

Sirius's limbs were getting up of their own accord, approaching her where she stood. But even he knew that he wasn't allowed to have her anymore, not at this moment—not at any moment, not ever—so he halted a few feet away from her, hand reaching out as though he wanted to touch her, gather into his arms and pretend like none of this had ever happened.

That he hadn't done anything wrong. But he did, and now he was paying for it.

When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion and there was undeniable pain in her eyes; “I'm only going to say this once,” she said, the lump in her throat audible. She turned around, meeting his gaze, anyone could tell that she was trying to sound strong—trying to sound like all of this didn't hurt her as much as it really did—but all of her walls were crumbling down on her, and it didn't sound like she'd be able to pick herself back up.

She swallowed with difficulty, blinking rapidly as though to fend off tears. “This is the last time you will ever lie to me again."

She looked up at him. Sirius's breath hitched in his throat. “I’m done,” she spat. “I’m done pretending like I’m okay with all of your crap. I’m fucking done.”

Sirius opened his mouth. There were a hundred explanations resting on the tip of his tongue, but all of them sounded like excuses, and he knew that was the last thing she wanted to hear.

And Sirius was the last person she wants to see.

He watched, with gut-wrenching guilt swimming in the pit of his stomach, as she wiped aggressively at her tears with the back of her hand and sent him a look of the utmost loathing—but Sirius saw right through it. He saw her pain.

Pain he had caused. Pain he knows he still caused.

“I hope you’re fucking happy,” she choked out, meaning to sound angry, but all Sirius heard was pain.

As she slammed the door shut on her way out, Sirius wondered to himself, as his knees buckled and he leaned on the couch for support, if [Y/N] would ever be the same again.

He'd made a mistake; a terrible one. And there was no going back from it now.

—

She did.

That is—she healed. It took her time, of course. Quite a lot of it.

Years passed by in a hazy blur. There were people who grew close to her, people who promised her the same things that she believed in so long ago. That she would be loved by them unconditionally if she just let her walls down and gave herself a chance to try and trust someone again.

It was difficult. She'd loved Sirius as though he were everything in the world that mattered—she had offered him all of her despite knowing that every moment he spent with her was a lie. every kiss, every promise; lies. All of them.

And yet she'd loved him, and when you love someone, you don't care about anything else but them. You don't listen when all of your friends tell you that he isn't good for you, and you don't care when he climbs out of bed in the morning, not quite meeting your gaze when he tells you he's going to visit a friend.

If you love someone, you don't care about all of that.

Or at least you tell yourself that, until you realize that you do. You do care.

[Y/N] realized it far later.

It was that that gave her the strength to walk away from him, despite her heart telling him that it's okay—why should it matter if he doesn't love you back? As long as you love him, it's okay.

It wasn't.

God, it really, really wasn't.

So [Y/N] lived on, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. And it's funny, how pain changes you. At first you think you're never going to be the same again—that you will be heartbroken forever, wallowing in your own self-pity—but the more time passes, the stronger you get. You don't feel it right away.

But one day, many, many years later, when her heart has healed, and she wakes up and realizes that she is loved by people around her and by herself, the way Sirius Black had never done—she realizes:

She is strong. So much stronger than the person she was before.

For the first time in a very long time, when his name wafts back into her head again, she doesn't feel pain.

Instead, the corners of her lips tug up into a small smile.

Here, in front of the window, with the warm sunlight painted across her face, her lashes flutter open.

I'm done pretending.

And now, there is no more pain in her eyes. 

There hasn't been for a long time now.

general taglist:  @dancing-in-the-moonlight3 @kalimagik @alittletoomanyobsessions @hariosborn @obsessedwithrandomthings @emcchi @sxrensxngwrites @enjoying-fantasyland21 @masterofthedarkness @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @bforbroadway @hufflefluff-writer @summer-writes @chaotic-fae-queen @firewhisky-kisses @dracosvftie @heloisedaphnebrightmore @idont-knowrn @dreamer821 @peachesandpinks @slytherinprincess03​ @chocfrogaddict @nebulablakemurphy​ ​@kpopgirlbtssvt @lumielikesbooks​ @teheharrypotter​

[death-himself]

Saw your monsyer au on ao3

Great work

Anyway, probably an angsty prompt but I was wondering if you think that any of our monster bois have had nightmares where they go on a hunt and then accidental chomp Virgil. Bonus points if in the moment they actually enjoy his flavor

I feel like the left brain boys (Janus and Logan) would be the most likely to have a nightmare scenario like that, especially Logan since he DID almost munch Virgil, and they'd also be the most likely to pretend everything's fine the next morning even tho they're absolutely miserable and terrified of taking a crunch munch out of their human bf in real life

Great work, don't know if o said that already

Happy holidays Nico

It’s been over a month since you sent this so sorry about that .-. Anyway here’s the fic, some good ol’ hurt/comfort with Loceit and Logicality because Logan deserves it

Warnings: Death (in a dream sequence), cannibalism, nightmares, blood

Logan went down his usual route to hunt. He and his other nonhuman boyfriends often hunted at the same time, spread all across the city and countryside to make their home less easy for the police to find. He found a good place on the rooftop to sit as he watched the humans pass by, waiting patiently for his prey.

One with dark purple hair walked down the alleyway. A pleased smile pulled at Logan’s lips. He dropped down silently in front of them, and before they could even scream he had them pinned to the ground, a hand over their mouth as he sunk his teeth into their arm.

The taste was heavenly. He ripped away at the tender flesh, sweet as candy and melting in his mouth. He ignored the human’s cries as he savored his meal, biting away until rose red pooled around them both. It was the most beautiful shade of blood he had ever seen. Logan felt bile hit his hand as the human attempted to vomit, before all the muscles beneath him loosened, and he heard their heart slow into silence.

Finally Logan pulled away with a sigh, having eaten his fill. He normally refrained from looking at his victims, in fear that he would feel guilty for killing them, but for whatever reason his eyes drifted over, looking over the dead man’s face. Purple hair, blank, empty black eyes, black eyeshadow.

Virgil.

Logan’s eyes snapped open, his body drenched in sweat. He looked to his side, relieved to see Virgil alive and well, sleeping as peacefully as ever. He listened closely to his boyfriend’s steady heartbeat, staring up at the ceiling as he waited for his own heart to come closer to matching.

He hated thinking about how he and Virgil met. He hated what had been going through his mind while he attacked him. He hated the fact that Virgil was the most delicious human he had ever tasted.

It had been something that had always been at the back of his mind, something he refused to acknowledge. Virgil tasted fucking incredible and there was nothing any of them could do about it. If Patton hadn’t been there to stop him, what had happened in his dream would have been reality.

He looked over Virgil at Patton, hugging the end of Janus’s tail like a teddy bear. He was the only one out of the four of them that hadn’t actually tried to kill Virgil, wasn’t he? No, he had saved Virgil from Logan’s own bloodlust. Wow, what a great boyfriend he was.

He sighed, turning over to stare at the clock. It was three AM, that was only three hours earlier than he would usually wake up. Might as well get up then.

Virgil had gone off to work and Roman had decided to visit his brother. The moment both of them left, Janus pulled Logan aside, wrapping his tail around him and almost pulling him close enough to touch noses. “Is something bothering you, love?” Janus spoke softly.

“Of course not.” Even Logan could tell he responded too quickly. Janus smiled.

“Well there has to be a reason why you kept staring at Virgil this morning. I know he’s absolutely gorgeous but there has to be a reason other than that.” Logan sighed. He knew how Janus was; he refused to give up until whoever he was talking to admitted what they were struggling with. It was something he both hated and loved about him.

“...You came close to killing him too, didn’t you?” The question threw off the naga for a moment, yellow and brown eyes widening. Janus hummed, nodding.

“So that’s the issue.” He sighed. “Well yes, I did. If I had held him for maybe five more seconds he would’ve passed out, and if I didn’t notice by then I likely would’ve eaten him alive. It’s in the past though, all is forgiven.”

“What if we realized afterward that he was our soulmate? What if you had looked at your tail and seen that Virgil’s mark was gone after he was dead and eaten?” Janus looked him up and down, concern flooding his eyes.

“Did you have a nightmare like that, darling?” Logan nodded hesitantly. Janus paused, arms hooked around Logan’s neck, his hand drifting up to run his fingers through Logan’s hair.

“I’ve gotten those, too. They’re tough to see, aren’t they?” Logan closed his eyes, allowing himself to go limp in Janus’s arms and coils as the naga pulled him even closer, holding him with all the care in the world.

“We’ve been around him long enough to not harm him. I know with how annoying he can be at times it’s hard to restrain yourself, but it seems like we still manage.” He chuckled. “And our first meetings are in the past now. They were awful first impressions, sure, and we’ll always remember what it was like to nearly kill him, but we know that they won’t happen again.”

Logan hummed, nose nuzzled into Janus’s shoulder. Janus killed through suffocation, though. Logan was the one who actually bit him and tasted his blood. And the taste and scent of that blood was what constantly hung in his mind, something he would always crave but could never get. At least not without consequences.

Janus unwrapped himself a bit, delivering a soft kiss on Logan’s lips and looking him over to make sure he was alright. Logan heard humming from the doorway, smelling Patton waiting just outside. Knowing him he had probably walked in and saw what was going on, opting to wait until they were done rather than joining in.

The vampire peeked his head in to check, before deeming them done and smiling happily. “You two having a cuddle party without me?” He gave Logan a kiss on the cheek before moving over to do the same to Janus.

“We were simply talking about an issue Logan had.” Patton immediately turned back to Logan, eyes full of concern, and Logan wished Janus had just spun one of his lies to get him out of this.

“It was nothing serious, I’m fine.”

“You sure, Logi Bear?” Logan hesitated. Patton was a vampire, he would understand something like this better than Janus or Roman would. But how the hell was he supposed to word it?

“...Virgil tastes incredible.”

“He does!” Patton giggled, a wide smile on his lips. “He let me drink his blood once, it was so good! I was scared I would kill him though, so I didn’t get much of it.”

“It’s very sweet, isn’t it?”

“Like candy!” Patton agreed. Janus looked between the two, accepting in his mind that this was really where the conversation was turning.

“Is there a way that you, ah...” Logan cleared his throat, “a way that you’ve learned to cope with that?” Patton’s brows scrunched in confusion, and he quickly rushed to explain. “Being around him all the time must be rather difficult, as he always...smells like our form of candy, I suppose you could word it.”

“Oh!” Patton’s eyes widened, before his cheeks went red. “Yeah, sometimes I just really wanna bite him. It’s an annoying thing to deal with, huh?” Logan nodded silently. “But like I overheard Jan tell you, we’ve been around him too long to actually hurt him. And I know you especially have a lot of self-control when it matters, so...try not to worry too much about it. You’re probably the least likely out of all of us to hurt him.”

“You were the one that stopped me when we first met him.” Logan spoke quietly. Patton shrugged, floating a few inches above the ground as he thought.

“But you were the one who got to him first. If I was the one that had tackled him, you probably would’ve had to pull me off! You have enough self-control to stop yourself with just a bit of help from us.” Patton took Logan’s hand, running his thumb across his knuckles. “I think that kinda proves that you won’t lose control and hurt him.”

Janus sighed, itching at an old bit of shed snakeskin. “We’ve all worried about what would happen if we lost control. And the truth is that it’s possible, probably more than likely, that we’ll end up hurting him at some point.”

The thought made them all go silent as it weighed down on their psyches. Hurting each other, especially their weaker human boyfriend, was the last thing they wanted to do, and they were all sure they would rather die than harm any of the others.

“But, it hasn’t happened yet, and we’re doing all we can right now to make sure it’s as least likely as possible.” Janus curled his tail around his boyfriends’ legs, snapping them out of the worried, distant blurriness in their eyes. “Let’s not worry too much about a future we can’t see yet, okay?”

They nodded, a weight feeling as though it had been lifted off Logan’s chest, as he for once didn’t plan out the rest of his day, instead opting to join Janus and Patton in what the two had dubbed self-care time, lying on the couch watching cartoons as the future grew blurry and distant.

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hi everyone. Strap in for character development, and the ridiculous lengths that are needed to cause the development. Hope you all enjoy.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Four - Fighting In The Moonlight

Day Three: Wednesday

When Freed woke the next day, he wasn't surprised to find he didn't suddenly like Gajeel Redfox. The last few days of pointless antagonism and ridiculous challenges didn't slip his mind, and the stalemate between them was as tenuous as it could possibly be. This was what he expected; a weak apology after an argument was hardly going to fix everything that had happened between them in such a short time, and the overwhelming dislike they held from each other. That wasn't how emotions worked, and it certainly wasn't how Freed worked as a person.

Though, the multiple blow-ups that Freed had indulged in were hardly how he acted either. Maybe Gajeel had knocked him off kilter more than he thought.

The rest of the last night had been awkward; perhaps the most awkward situation they had been in yet. At least before, they'd had their anger and resentment to focus on, but their conversation seemed to take that away. For the rest of the night, they were two men who had a lot of issues and no way to voice them, healthily or otherwise.

A few times, Freed had considered apologising. Then, he told himself that he had nothing to apologise for, and that Gajeel was the one in the wrong. That left him with a sickly feeling in his stomach, because he knew it wasn't entirely true.

Dammit. Freed wasn't particularly fond of emotional exploration, and Gajeel had somehow forced it on him.

"I know yer awake," Gajeel grumbled, voice more sleepy than angry. Freed opened his eyes slowly to see the sun in its mid-morning state - it still annoyed him slightly that Gajeel was an early riser while Freed was fond of sleeping in - and Gajeel sitting by a fire. "I made you breakfast."

With a little frown, Freed sat up as he blinked away the sleep. He had been doing all of their cooking since they had arrived, partially because Gajeel wanted to test him and partially because Gajeel clearly liked what Freed could do with fish. This was one of the aspects of the week Freed had actually liked, as cooking in multiple situations with limited resources was something he found oddly fun. Still, he wouldn't complain if Gajeel was going to take over the chore in some kind of peace offering. He looked at the breakfast offered to him and scrunched his face in confusion.

He had made toast. Had he made bread somehow? No, that was ridiculous.

"It ain't poisoned," Gajeel continued speaking. "I ain't pissed on it or anything."

"That didn't once cross my mind," Freed croaked a little as he spoke. "I was confused as to where you got the bread from."

"There's a village with a bakery half an hour's walk away, stopped by and got some supplies," Gajeel shrugged, and Freed frowned. Surely that went against the entire point of this survivalist retreat. Gajeel seemed to preempt the question. "The whole living off the forest thing was because I didn't think you could handle it. Sounds petty when I say it out loud," He chuckled. "But a mage can't stay in a hotel - I thought that's what you were doin' - so I wanted to make sure you could handle yerself. You can, so no point in eating fish again when we don't have to."

Oh, that was shockingly mature. Both the admission and the reasoning for stopping the survivalist aspects of the training. Perhaps Gajeel had more emotional maturity than Freed was giving him credit for.

Perhaps it was his time to make an effort too.

"That's reasonable," Freed agreed, taking the toast before speaking again. The next sentence he had to force out before annoyance at Gajeel filled him again. "I must admit, if we're being honest with one another, I have found your exercise to be rather genius. I'm quite impressed."

Oh, he actually meant that. That was unexpected.

"Genius?" Gajeel scoffed. "You makin' fun of me?"

"Not at all," Freed corrected, because if he actually did think Gajeel was impressive then he wasn't going to recant on his words. "The fact you've essentially made a gymnasium out of things you can find in a forest is impressive itself. It allows for the benefits of specific exercise, while also lowering the limitations. You could learn to swim in a pool, for example, but learning in a lake adds the complications of pond life, temperature, shorelines and distractions. You could weight train with barbells, but doing it with the tree trunk means you're ready to lift things that aren't meant to be lifted and will offer less support," He took another bite of the toast. "You've essentially replaced the comfort of a gym with the practical requirements of a mission environment. It's quite impressive."

"Oh, shit," Gajeel grumbled a little, and looked away. "Thanks."

"There's also your intention to push my limits," Freed saw Gajeel tense just a little. "If I were the type of man you wanted me to be, I expect this would have been torturous. So not only did you make a practical training environment, you found a way to do it while also making me uncomfortable as you could," He smirked a little. "You're smarter than you look, Gajeel."

"Can't tell if yer complementin' me or not."

"I am, if a little backhandedly," Freed commented, and Gajeel hummed a little.

They sat beside one another for a short while, and Gajeel wordlessly handed Freed a small metal mug filled with coffee. It wasn't the type of bean that Freed would have chosen for himself, but there was a certain satisfaction in the burn on his tongue. He also normally would have added some milk, but this particular roast didn't seem to need it. He would have to look into it.

When their breakfasts had been finished, neither man spoke for a few minutes more. Freed still expected Gajeel to have some sort of challenge or task ready for him as he had the previous two days. Eventually, once the quiet had begun to unnerve him, he spoke again.

"Other than the fight, what have we planned today?"

"Kinda thought that was all we needed," Gajeel shrugged, not looking towards Freed as he kicked dirt onto the fire to extinguish it. "Maybe we could go back before it gets dark? I dunno."

"Right," Freed was speaking quietly. Something was clearly wrong with Gajeel. "If you wish."

"Ain't got anything else planned," Gajeel stood as the fire burned away.

"Right," Freed repeated, disbelieving. Had he hurt Gajeel's feelings? That didn't make him particularly good. It didn't make him feel guilty, exactly, but it wasn't great. "I'd like to stay until the evening at least. Maybe returning to Magnolia at night would be good for us both; I don't typically travel at night so perhaps it will help broaden my horizons."

"If you want," Gajeel still wasn't looking at him.

"So, if we've got most of the day with nothing to do, perhaps we should go with what you planned originally," Freed suggested, and Gajeel glanced towards him for a moment. He looked away quickly. "I expect it would be equal parts humiliating and exhausting."

"Oh yeah," Gajeel chuckled a little. "You would've cried."

"Would I?" Freed challenged. "Maybe you should prove it."

"Maybe I should."

When they looked at each other again, they both wore the familiar edge of challenge in their eyes, but this time the reasoning behind it was different. Not kind, not friendly, but not hateful either. An odd middle ground, one that they could work with.

——

"On the count of three, we fight," Gajeel stated, and Freed gave a nod.

It was evening now, with the moon high in the sky and the stars illuminated the darkness. As they had for the last three days, Freed's muscles ached from a day of physical activity and a variety of challenges. Today, though, had been a little different. While the challenges were clearly designed to prey on Freed's supposed weaknesses, Gajeel approached them with an attitude almost teacherly in his helpfulness. An entirely reluctant teacher who had lost all enthusiasm for his job, but a teacher nonetheless.

They had made camouflage for themselves, which consisted of covering their exposed skin in mud and leaves. Freed suspected that if they'd done it the day before, Gajeel would have sat back and watched with Freed amusement. Instead, he showed Freed what to do, and led by example.

Next, they'd made a boat out of dead wood, originally to highlight the lack of practical skills Gajeel thought Freed had. But under Gajeel's tutelage - he'd done this many times before meeting Pantherlilly, so was proficient at it - they managed to make a working raft.

After that, Gajeel had lifted the no magic rule. He thought that, for their fight, they should know their opponent. They had taken turns showing off their magic, using it against a tree. Freed had been pleasantly surprised by the range of spells that Gajeel possessed. He had thought the man could only turn his body to iron, so to see what he was capable of was enlightening.

Honestly, it has been a good day. Maybe the other days would have been good if they hadn't been determined to hate one another.

"Three," Gajeel said, voice low. "Two. One."

They both lurched forward, Gajeel with iron crawling up his arms to replace his skin and Freed with runes spiralling down his sword. They were both fully dressed in their normal clothes - their coats had been essentially abandoned on the first day, so the extra weight was a little unfamiliar - so that they could battle in the same conditions they would in a mission environment. Now that he had a glimmer of objectivity, Freed could admit that Gajeel really had thought this out well. Tactically, he was bordering on genius.

An extended fist cast in iron shot towards Freed, and he pushed his sword to parry it. He was knocked back, but managed to stay on his feet. With a muttered spell, the runes swirling around him shot forward, plastering themselves onto Gajeel's metal skin.

The yelling of pain was cathartic, and Frees watched with a grin as Gajeel recoiled.

Still, Gajeel clearly wasn't the type to let some pain runes stop his stubbornness. He gritted his teeth and lurched forward, arm mutating into a blade of black steel. The magic used to cast the spell must have overwhelmed the pain runes, as they shattered on his skin, and Freed cussed under his breath. Dragon Slayer magic was inherently powerful, so simply plastering the man with runes until he could no longer stand wouldn't be enough.

Gajeel ran forward with his sword arm extended, and swung for Freed's gut. Freed lowered his sword to protect himself, and saw that Gajeel's sword arm wasn't as sharp as it could have been. More a baton than a blade.

How considerate.

For a while, all they could do was parry one another. Freed needed to reevaluate his strategy while Gajeel needed to build up to something more powerful. Freed was a better swordsman, and until Gajeel had enough energy to use his ranged spells, they were at a stalemate.

Metal beat against metal as they battled, cutting through the relative silence of the forest. The moonlight and the stars illuminated the battle, dancing off the nearly stilled lake they had chosen to fight beside. Were there any wildlife nearby, they had decided to scarper away, no doubt sensing the overwhelming magical energy emanating from the two fighting men.

Freed's sword met Gajeel's, and the sparks that flew made both men wince and recoil a little. They both jumped back a few steps, panting and taking a moment to recover.

"Sword ain't just a prop, huh?" Gajeel huffed. "If my skin wasn't iron, you would've got a few cuts in."

"And if you hadn't dulled your arm perhaps you might have to."

"Couldn't risk cutting yer perfect skin," Gajeel taunted, but it didn't feel as cruel as his other comments had been intended to be. "Basically all you've got, isn't it?"

"We'll see," Freed retorted.

With a sweeping motion of his sword, Freed quick-casted a perimeter of runes around them. They implanted themselves in the dirt before glowing bright and magical. Walls shot upwards and the effect took place, lifting both of them off the air as the effect of gravity lessened. Gajeel seemed taken aback, stumbling in the air that lifted him and looking for something to latch onto. He found nothing, and Freed smirked a little.

Freed cast his own wings to counteract the gravity spell. Runes now flying around him, he forced his magic outwards and sent tendrils of power towards his opponent. Normally this combination of spells would have been too taxing, but three days without had given him an excess of power.

Iron cut through his runes, and Gajeel's extended fist slammed into Freed's face in a vicious punch.

Dazed, it took him a moment to see what had happened. With his left hand, Gajeel had made multiple strands of iron and buried them into the ground, allowing himself to be anchored in place. He had pulled himself down so that he was on the ground again, albeit a little unsteady on his feet. With this stability, he was able to essentially make Freed's gravity rune useless.

A metal hand wrapped tightly around Freed's neck, and pushed him into one of the large trees in the rune perimeter. Freed gasped a little, his throat being crushed as Gajeel pushed forward. Even knowing the man would stop before seriously injuring him, Freed began to panic. A tingling of brimstone rose over his skin.

Instantly, he cast a spell. The reversal of the gravity spell, that doubled the pressure rather than halved it. They were both flung to the ground, and Gajeel's extended arm retreated to prop him up.

Both men struggled to keep themselves from collapsing, and Freed felt the magic flowing through him. Powerful and relentless, he quickly tried to utilise it. Tentacles of runic streams shot forward, all meant to hurt their target. They wrapped around Gajeel's arms, legs and neck, burning into him and making him yell in pain.

Scales formed on Freed's arm, but he didn't notice.

"Iron Dragon's Roar!" Gajeel yelled over the pain runes, and a flurry of magic filled the space between them.

The spell hit Freed like a truck. The dominating burn of powerful magic hit him, the pain tripled by the barrage of metallic shrapnel cutting away at his skin. A dragon slayer's roar was an experience that Freed had so far avoided - when he trained with Laxus, the other man refused to use the spell for fear of hurting his teammates - and the unfamiliar sensation was hellish. He was knocked off his feet, flung backwards and pinned against the wall of runes by Gajeel's magic. He knew he was yelling in pain, but couldn't hear himself.

Seeing it as his only next step, Freed cut the gravity runes entirely. For a moment he was forced back further by Gajeel's roar, and he yelled in pain as his back cracked against a fallen log. At least the change of gravity had thrown Gajeel off balance, as his roar cut through the trees, and into the sky, parting the clouds.

Brimstone. Fire. Darkness. They all coursed through Freed's veins.

He didn't notice it, though. The pain from the spell and subsequent fall was all-consuming, meaning the mutation of the skin on his right arm turning to scales went unnoticed, as did the burning in his throat.

Gajeel, apparently less affected by the fight than Freed, was on his feet and running towards Freed quickly. He had turned his arm to the sword again, and Freed could see he was grinning through red tinted eyes. Gajeel clearly thought that this fight was already finished, and Freed felt a rush of anger flow through him.

He would not lose a fight to Gajeel Redfox.

He would not lose a fight to a man who had tried to humiliate him.

He would not lose a fight to a man who had disrespected him.

He would not lose a fight to a man so inferior to him that he shouldn't be breathing the same fucking air to him!

Oh. It was too late, wasn't it.

Without control of his body, Freed raised his arm. It had been fully transformed into it's demonic counterpart, and Freed could only watch as magic crackled and formed at the end of his claw. He couldn't stop it now, it was too late for that. His attention had slipped, and Gajeel's parting of the clouds had allowed for direct moonlight to hit him, strengthening the demon inside of him enough for a minor takeover,

A beam of concentrated darkness flew from his claw, hitting Gajeel directly. The spell was an amalgam of every rune Freed had: pain, torment, trauma, paralysis, unconsciousness, poison. In a word, the spell was hell.

It hit Gajeel right in the heart, and Freed watched with wide eyes.

The ensuing scream sent a chill through him.

Gajeel flew backwards, and Freed watched as his eyes closed and he was knocked out. With heavy breaths, Freed forced his arm upwards and shot as much magic through his claw as he could. It was a foreign and horrible sensation, turning his runic magic into darkness, but he needed to do it. He was burning through all the magic that the demon had taken from him, exhausting himself to the point where the demon's influence would have to die out. The magic ripped away at him, and the claw began to shrivel.

The exhaustion hit him in waves, and his bones felt like they might break. He panted and heaved, nausea hitting him as he closed his eyes. It was only when he heard a loud, echoing splash that he forced his eyes open again.

Gajeel was in the lake, unconscious and with his energy sapped from him.

With as much energy as he could muster, Freed ran towards the lake and dove in. The cold hit him and woke him slightly, and he pushed on to swim towards where Gajeel had landed. The ripples were still breaking the surface, acting like a beacon for Freed to find him. He pushed on despite his aching arms, gritting his teeth as the creeping of brimstone ran over the back of his exposed neck.

Gajeel wasn't floating. He was sinking. Ignoring the demon fighting for his body, Freed submerged himself in the water and began to swim down. He saw Gajeel's body and quickly hooked his arms around the man's chest. He was limp, and Freed was quickly pulling him to the surface.

Dragging him to the shore was hellish. His body screamed in protest, but he kept going until they were on the rocks that bordered the lake. Freed wanted nothing more than to lie down and let his exhaustion take over, and he very

Gajeel was still unconscious.

Putting him on his back with his head tilted back slightly, Freed pinched Gajeel's nose and brought his mouth to Gajeel's. He breathed in heavily, forcing air into the man's lungs as best he could. He alternated between that and chest compressions, arms still burning as he forced his hands on the other man's chest.

Eventually, Gajeel spluttered out and spat water towards the side. He coughed and groaned, throat hoarse and eyes unblinking. Freed wanted to explain, or at least to help Gajeel further with his recovery, but felt exhaustion overtake him. He quickly wrote a rune to heat and protect them, before his eyes fluttered shut.

——

"You lost control, didn't ya?"

Gajeel's words cut through the silence of the train ride to Magnolia. From the moment Freed had woken up half an hour ago, their conversation had been limited. They had discussed if they were both healthy and uninjured (they were, more or less) and how they should get home in their exhausted state. Freed had teleported them both to the train station, and runed their carriage so Gajeel wouldn't be overly affected by his motion sickness. That had been it for conversation.

Freed had hoped to keep it that way. His relationship with Gajeel was tense enough before he attacked and nearly killed him, he now expected a verbal and perhaps physical assault from the other man now. He would have deserved it as well. But Gajeel had said nothing, as if he didn't have the energy to be angry,

"Excuse me?" Freed asked, pretending as if Gajeel wasn't entirely right.

"You didn't mean to do that spell, probably didn't mean to transform yer arm either, did ya?" Gajeel shrugged, as if the statement was both uninteresting and unimportant. When Freed said nothing, he continued. "You looked scared. Scared of yerself when you hit me with the spell, and scared for me when you resuscitated me."

"I didn't want to see you injured," Freed brushed off, Gajeel did not need to know about this. "Perfectly rational."

"If you didn't wanna injure me then you wouldn't have used the spell," Gajeel shrugged, looking at Freed as Freed looked out the window. "I deserve to know what happened, City-Boy."

Freed wanted to scoff, but perhaps Gajeel was right.

"No, I didn't intend to use the spell on you," Freed admitted, watching as the night rolled past them. "You have my apologies."

He wouldn't meet the man's eyes, because he didn't need to dammit. Gajeel had spent the last three days - well, two days, since he'd changed his mood today - tormenting Freed in whatever way he could. The entire point of this exercise had been to make Freed feel small, and pathetic; well, maybe not. He could have been crueler, and he did seem to have a flimsy reasoning behind everything he had done. Either way, Freed using a single spell on him didn't suddenly make them best friends, and it certainly wasn't enough to make Freed forget what had happened throughout the week.

Frankly, perhaps Gajeel deserved it. He might have deserved to be left in the lake!

Gods.

The realisation hit Freed with force. The attempts by his demon to possess him brought a lot of anxieties up to the surface, mainly about the possibility of losing control of his body. It was a valid concern - the demon would kill everything in its way if in control - but often made him forget about the smaller repercussions of his demon's growing power.

It wasn't just physical, the demon's effect was emotional. While it grew in power, it's cruelty infected the mood of him and everyone around him. It was why he had exploded at Gajeel so many times, and perhaps the reason Gajeel was hell-bent on making this horrid for him.

Dammit, he should have known this. He should have told Gajeel that this might happen!

"I can almost hear ya thinkin'," Gajeel commented. "And I know I ain't been fair in ya, but I don't think yer some kid without restraint. So you wanna explain what happened?"

Maybe he did owe Gajeel that.

It was comical really. Now he knew his demon was to blame for his foul mood, he suddenly saw how ridiculous it all was. Gods, how hadn't he realised it before.

"My demonic take-over isn't exactly like that of the Strauss'," Freed sighed, looking towards Gajeel again. "Rather than being born with a demonic alter-ego, like Mirajane, I have a living demon inside of my soul. Technically speaking, I'm being possessed at all times, I simply have the right magic to stop it from taking over."

"Oh," Gajeel grunted, because he clearly couldn't think of anything else to say. Freed expected that, most people didn't know how to react when they were told a demon could overthrow the man next to them. "Shit."

"It is," Freed agreed. "Typically it isn't an issue. It gets stronger around the full moon, and around the shortest day of the year. When they happen to coincide, it's power grows and incidents like that happen. I should have warned you, I'm sorry."

Gajeel didn't say anything. He looked Freed up and down, clearly worried. Freed understood that.

"It won't happen again," He assured, though it wasn't exactly a promise he could keep,

"You really got a demon living in you?" He asked, and Freed nodded slightly. "How the hell did that happen?" They weren't there yet. Freed tensed a little, and Gajeel seemed to know that was a limit not to push. "You gonna be okay to keep going with this? I know I was trying to push you around but if we need to call it in, I don't think Makarov's gonna be too bothered."

"It should be fine," Freed said firmly. "It only happened tonight because I lost concentration. I won't allow that to happen again."

He wouldn't. The demon was not going to control him, nor his life.

"Well, now I know what to do if it happens again," Gajeel said, and he was smirking now. Not a condescending one, nor particularly cocky. It was to break the tension. "So if yer voice gets all creepy and yer eye all glowing, I'll knock yer ass right out before y' can blink."

"You have my eternal thanks," Freed drolled.

"These runes are fucking amazing y'know," Gajeel turned the conversation away. "Ya think you'd be able to teach the bookworm how to cast 'em. Don't think I'm gonna get on a train without 'em anymore. Finally understand why people find it relaxing."

"I don't expect so," Freed chuckled a little. "They're more complex than you'd think. Levy might not be prepared for a spell like it just yet."

"Say that to her and I think she'd hit ya," Gajeel laughed. "But if that's the case, then I might have to kidnap ya for my next mission. Ain't a problem right?"

"Well, if you're being so kind as to offer to knock me out, then I suppose I owe you," Freed smiled a little.

"Damn right ya do," Gajeel grinned right at him, sharp teeth so clearly visible. "Especially after the fun couple days we just had."

For the first time, the two men shared a laugh together.

[oikoik]

—the color of a bruise (part one)

warnings; depictions of mild violence/self-defense, cursing

word count; 1298

a/n; part one is here! I hope you all look forward to the series and thank you for all the support already!

(7:47pm; Miyagi suburbs)

Everything hurt. Even the chill in the air seemed to cling to your bones. It had been a long day. Your classes seemed more like lectures and your brain could barely make out left from right as you made the familiar trek back to your apartment. Dusk had begun to fall upon the city, the few lampposts that lined the street emitted a soft orange glow onto the sidewalk.

The accounts of the day replayed in your mind, and you couldn't help the soft groan that fell past your lips as you realized you'd finally have a day off tomorrow. A break was much needed, and you were sure as hell going to enjoy it.

Your thoughts were on what you'd order for dinner that night when you turned into the alleyway that would act as a shortcut to your place. Unlike most nights, when the alley is silent and void of any commute stragglers such as yourself, there were three figures off to the side a few meters ahead. Upon closer inspection, you were able to make out two of those figures as being boys, most likely not much older than yourself, being hassled by the another taller, looming person. You were convinced they could handle themselves. Sure, they were pretty small, but there was two of them, they'd be fine, right?

You were merely about to pass by when you saw the older man shove one of them to the ground with such a force that it left your blood boiling under your skin. From the faint orange glow of the overhead lamp, you noticed the traces of blood accenting the ridges of the boy's face. Any anxiety in your system dissipated at the sight, now being replaced with rage in the pit of your stomach.

You noticed the boy who was still standing gawk at you as you neared, subtly trying to gesture for you to just keep walking, but you ignored the attempt. As soon as you were a little less than a meter away from the back of the attacker, you could feel the anger kept tightly in your chest come seeping out in rage-laced words, "Hey, jackass!"

Your hand was in your backpack, firmly gripping the can of mace you never left home without. The moment the man turned, you unleashed a fat stream of the burning liquid to the man's face. "Fucking pick on someone your own size!"

Doubled over, the man yelled incoherent curses, but you failed to recognize them. The world surrounding you ceased to exist the moment you spotted the hefty pistol clutched in the man's left hand.

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you stared at it, any previous emotions now being replaced with a primal fear. Amidst your frozen panic, one of the boys clutched almost painfully onto your arm, dragging you with him as he and the other ran down the street.

It wasn't until you made a sharp turn that your sense of reality came back. You began pumping your legs as fast as you could, somehow managing to keep up with the athletic strides of the two boys. Panting, you painfully sucked in breaths of stuffy air while also trying to recollect your thoughts.

The ginger haired boy spoke first, "Who are you?"

Still struggling to process the fact you saw an actual gun that could have actually killed you, you let out a shaky breath. "Y/N."

The same boy placed a hand on your shoulder, with a pearly white smile, and a grin on his lips, "You just saved our lives."

“My dad always told me to never leave home without my mace. Thank god I actually listened to him for once.”

The other boy, however, couldn't help but feel immense sympathy for you. It was written all over his face as he whispered just quietly enough for himself to hear, "What have you done?"

(5:32pm; Miyagi)

Three days had passed since you met and departed from the two boys you encountered on the lonely street. After you had gone your separate ways, you figured you'd never hear of them again and would simply slip back into a normal routine.

You were wrong, so very wrong. Your kind act of playing the Good Samaritan brought to you an entirely new sense of reality.

You had been out for most of the day, morning classes and the afternoon in the library. Your backpack seemed to weigh even heavier on your shoulders as you made the walk back home.

More than anything, you wanted to kick off your shoes, take off your pants, and pass the hell out for a few hours. However, you ideal evening plans came to a halt the moment you got to your front door.

With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, the West-bound windows offered you substantial light to see shadows moving about your living from the crack below the door. Immediately, your muscles tensed, and you quietly reached for the can that had just saved your life previously in the week. Hesitantly, you began to unlock the door, pushing the knob ever so slightly. The moment the door was cracked open wide enough, the can was in front of you.

With extended arms, you positioned yourself in as threatening of a stance as possible in case the intruders felt the desire the pounce back. What you weren't expecting, though, was the undeniably handsome man sitting at the breakfast bar.

As you peered around the room, you took notice of several other men, all dressed finely, and all sharing features that you could argue resembled that of Adonis. Although you flaunted you're weapon of choice, none seemed to be fazed by the blatant threat you were trying to appear as.

"Ah, there you are." The man perched at the kitchen bar smiled warmly at you.

You did not smile back. "Who the hell are you?"

He took a glance at your still outstretched can of mace, his smile never leaving him. "You must be Y/N."

"How the fuck do you know my name, and I asked you a damn question--who the fuck are you?"

At your tone, a few of the other men surrounding you seemed to go stiff with your words, eyeing the reaction of the man sitting across from you.

"Before we get any further, I think it might be best if you put away the mace, from what I've heard, you're an excellent shot."

"What the hell does that mean? I'm not moving until you tell me who the fuck you guys are and why you're in my house."

"You see, Miss Y/N, I can't really discuss much here. It would be much better if we could do this at a more discreet location."

Immediately , the warnings your father always gave you came rushing back to your mind and you couldn't help but scoff, something that caught the man off guard.

"I've been alive on this goddamn earth long enough to know what goes down at secondary locations, so don't you dare think I'm going anywhere with you, fuckhead."

One of them to your right instantly tried to square you up, but halted at the gesture of the man before you. He chuckled. However, it was clear you were wearing down his patience.

"My, my, my, you really do enjoy making things difficult, don't you, kitten?"

He took a daring step towards you, watching as your reflexes naturally made you jerk the mace to be level with his face, your finger lingering just above the trigger.

"But I'll have you know, my men and I have absolutely no interest in bringing you harm. Quite the opposite, actually."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m here to offer you a job.”

[xadianjay]

TDP Secret Santa Exchange

From: @tdphttydatlatlok

To:@cruria

This is my gift for you!

You said you loved both canon and headcanon, so I decided to write something about the time after the battle. And with Janaya. It also contains some stuff about what happened in Lux Aurea during the time skip.

But enough about that, just enjoy:

-----------

Sunfire and Night Rain

The battle was over, Rayla and Callum were talking, Ezran was playing hide and seek with Soren, Bait and Zym and Amaya talked to that other human with the red hair. Janai wondered if they were a thing? But then again, why did she want to hold her hand when the Dragon Queen woke up? Kazi came up from behind. 

"You seem to really like the human general!", they said mockingly, knowing Janai would get furious. She immediately blushed and denied: "She was my prisoner! Now that we don't have to fight the humans anymore, we don't have to talk anymore!" 

"But you will!", Kazi responded with a knowing look on their face.Then they walked away to talk to some of the other warriors. And left Janai confused and worried.

 Kazi'd been right, she wanted to spend more time with the deaf general. Even though she hadn't admitted it yet, she secretly really liked her! Of course, being able to talk to her without having to learn a new language first would be easier, but even if she wasn't deaf, Janai would still have to overcome her boundaries, admit her feelings to Amaya. She'd never been that good at the whole feelings stuff, but then again, she'd never really needed it. As a warrior, you fight with honor and strength, but you don't show feelings to your enemy. 

Confused and trying to overshadow her feelings,she went outside, hoping the fresh air could clear her mind. She found herself again at the place where they landed with her trusted twin-tailed inferno-tooth tiger. Amaya had gotten off the mount and welcomed her nephews back. Janai hadn't thought about her having a family a lot, but the sight of her hugging her nephews warmed her heart. The older one started to talk to her, but also to everyone else, speaking both normal and sign language, which made it more comfortable for Janai to listen. At least until they started talking about her. Amaya'd signed something to him after she'd told him that she thought of Amaya as her prisoner, not her friend. 

And Janai had tried to understand.

 They'd been in Lux Aurea for a few days to recover and then they went to the Storm Spire. And in this time, Janai had asked Kazi if she could teach her sign language, just the basics, so it would be easier for her to understand Amaya. They'd been surprised about her sudden interest on the topic, especially because Janai had never been the type to learn about language or really anything that wasn't fighting. That was probably the time when Kazi first picked up the vibe that Janai might care more about what would happen to Amaya that she admitted. But they didn't try to talk her out of it, Kazi loved teaching and was really good at it too. And they had no problem with love, however unusual and strange it might've seemed. And later, Janai'd even tried to talk to Amaya a little bit – partly without Kazi, Janai wouldn't want anyone to know what she said to Amaya. She hadn't talked to anyone about it, but she had the feeling Amaya would understand. It was about her sister. When she'd died, Amaya probably saved Janai's life by holding her back from going up the tower to...to what? Revenge her sister? Try to find out what happened? Attack for Lux Aurea? Or simply save her sister, even though she knew it was impossible? Back when it happened, that was more or less Janai's drive for going, the anger, the pain… Janai had always looked up to her sister, and even though they had different points of view on a lot of topics and took a different way in life, Janai had never felt closer or more understood by anyone else. And now she was gone. For the second time since she died, Janai started to cry. 

She wrapped her arms around her legs and burrowed her face in her arms. She felt so alone, so weak… Her thoughts paused for a moment, a moment of silence, one of peace in her mind, then they drifted back to this place. Where she'd landed with Amaya. Where Amaya had signed to her nephew. It wasn't surprising that Janai had caught some of the words Amaya used during the quick exchange. She'd understood parts of what Amaya was saying too in Lux Aurea. And if she wasn't mistaken, she'd said something like – no! It wasn't possible! Janai's mind started to race as she thought about what else she could've said. There were so many possibilities! She tried to get her head on some other topic, for example how she'd rule over Lux Aurea now that her sister was gone. Or what the sunstone would be like, how to repair it if that was even possible and if it was not, what to do? All of these were rather important matters, but Janai couldn't focus on either of them. Her mind always slipped back to the thing Amaya'd signed… And the harder she tried to avoid thinking about it, the more she got stuck on it. She needed to know for sure! Janai went back inside, the air outside had done nothing but bring more confusion to her brain after all. Amaya was still leaning against the wall, talking, or better signing to the man. He signed back, there was nothing to hear except a laughter from the man every now and then. Callum was sitting on the other side of the room, alone this time. He was the only one who could tell her for sure except Amaya and he was the only one who was available at the moment. "Ahem, excuse me? Can I ask you something?", Janai asked him. He looked up to her.

"Of course!"

'What did Amaya say to you back then? You know, when we landed and I said she was my prisoner, not friend?"

"Oh...uhh, this is...kinda awkward, but..", Callum stuttered in response.

'Yeah, tell me about it!', Janai thought. She felt her body heating up.

'Please don't blush, please don't blush!', she begged herself. 

"She kinda said..uh, that you...thought she was cute? But...haven't admitted it...yet?", he finally said, awkwardly rubbing his neck with one hand.

Janai's eyes widened. She'd been right. Her body ignored her wish, she felt her cheeks get red, praying that her golden markings and dark skin could somehow cover it up.

"Thank you", she muttered, turning around and walking, almost running outside again.

She sat down on the edge of the….. . Someone approached her from behind. It was Amaya.

She sat down next to her and looked into Janai's face, obviously worried about her.

'What's wrong?', she signed slowly, making sure Janai would be able to understand her.

"I think you were right. I do like you", Janai said quietly, turning towards Amaya so she'd be able to read from her lips. That also meant she had to directly look at her face. Her beautiful face, only harmed by that scar, going from just beneath the right eye over her right cheek. Somehow, the scar only made her even more beautiful. And showed how much fight she had in her. Amaya started smiling. It was only a thin smile, but it made Janai's heart race even faster than before. 

'I like you too. You're a noble warrior. And a beautiful woman', Amaya signed, at least if Janai had interpreted the few words she didn't understand correctly. She blushed again. Amaya liked her! 

Back in Lux Aurea, Kazi'd talked to her a lot. They'd been sitting in the ring of fire and talked for a long time and afterwards Kazi, who was very easy to talk to, knew a lot about Amaya's past. And they'd told Janai everything. That Amaya's older sister had also died. To save her husband and sister. To save ten thousand starving humans. Amaya'd been trying to comfort Janai after what happened to her sister Khessa, and even during it. That had been the reason for her to want to talk to Amaya in the first place. This act of selflessness, this look she gave Janai and told her to let go with, it spoke of understanding. Janai had assumed that Amaya was trying to help her because she knew what pain she was going through, but not more. She'd never thought Amaya might care about her. But then these other thoughts came to Janai's mind about Amaya… thoughts she hadn't even fully admitted to herself yet. But the truth was… she thought Amaya was beautiful. Yes, she was a human, but a good one! She had feelings, the same feelings Janai had. Khessa and her parents were the only people who taught Janai about humans. And everything they ever told her was that all humans were monsters. Dark mages. Heartless creatures who didn't bother to rip the life out of a helpless animal. But even the first time Janaid fought Amaya, she'd known that Amaya wasn't like that. She would never rip the life out of something. She was noble! And now she'd said she thought Janai was noble! And beautiful!

"Yeah, you too! And … I ...uh, you were right. I do think you're cute", Janai muttered, this time looking at the ground as if there was something very interesting down there to see. But she felt that Amaya had understood. She wanted to get up and walk away, she wasn't able to sit there anymore, she thought she was going to explode because of how awkward this situation was.

But Amaya grabbed her by the arm as she tried to walk away. Turned her around. Suddenly her face was so close at Janai's! Too close! Amaya looked at her with her soft eyes, again a smile emerged on her lips. 

'I think that of you too. That's why I signed it to my nephew, because I hoped you would feel the same way about me', Amaya signed, looking into Janai's  eyes the whole time, waiting for some reaction. Janai felt herself loosening up and started smiling too. 

"Well, I do. Feel the same way about you."

The sun was about to set, it hung up in the sky, just barely divorcing their faces from each other. Until they got closer together.

Janai's brain stopped working as her lips touched Amaya's. It was a short, but deep kiss and it had a great meaning for both of them.

A few hours later Amaya told her nephew that Janai had to get back to Lux Aurea to rebuild the armee and help the fortress to recover.

And that Amaya would go with her.

-----

In addition to that, have some bad fanart bc I can't work with colours:

[trademarkblue]

100 Days of R/Hr: Day 9

Prompt: "To Build a Home” by The Cinematic Orchestra (ft. Patrick Wilson)

Prompted by: @herrmionejgranger​

Here we are, finally catching up to Sunday's prompt! AHH!

So, I have a weird (optional) hand canon, which is more just because of my obsession with hurt/comfort and less because I actually think this is how things went down, but I've been leaning a lot recently on the idea that Hermione's parents didn't come back from Australia, and, though she had been so independent for so long, this really crushes her because, before, it was her choice to be that way, and now it's like they're choosing to leave her on her own. So, Ron helps her through this a lot, even though he has his whole family around him, and he was closer to them than she was to hers, so he didn't develop quite the same independence, but he does that for her, without really thinking about it. In a way, this makes a lot of sense, because he’s a real family sharer, you know? Like Harry was part of the family almost instantly. Hermione was, too, but in a very different way, until much later.

Long explanation. Sorry. 

TL;DR - Ron is my favorite, here are 3K words about that. Hope you enjoy! x

Ron had just finally walked through the door to Grimmauld Place after way too long a day at training. He had taken one arm out of his cloak, thinking of all the leftover food from the previous night's takeaway that he was going to consume, when Ginny's Patronus materialised by the coat rack.

Ron, come to Hogwarts if you can. Not an emergency.

The silvery horse in front of him galloped in a circle before vanishing.

Ron's arm immediately stuffed itself back into his cloak sleeve. He'd never really gone to Hogwarts on a whim. Visits were planned around invitations to school events like Quidditch trials and matches or Hogsmeade weekends. But he wasn't about to waste time worrying about the details of exactly how he was going to get through at half eleven on a Friday night. Ginny must have some sort of plan to have asked him to come. And the words "not an emergency" weren't registering very deep.

With a short, scribbled note to Harry to explain his disappearance, he headed back out into the crisp, February night.

She had found her way to a dark corner of the castle, hidden behind a tapestry. No one ever came by here, and she suspected the only other people who even knew it was here were Ron and Harry, who, of course, weren't going to be popping by any time soon.

She'd received a owl at dinner, transferred from Muggle post, and the words were burned into the backs of her eyelids, apparently, because she couldn't think of anything else. She'd managed to hold back for a couple of hours, but she could no longer ignore the growing void inside, reminding her how alone she was, how far away her parents were… that they weren't coming home. They’d chosen to stay in Australia, but she hadn't given up hope that they might change their minds. Give them time, she'd thought. They'd been through a lot. But, now, that hope was gone.

We've sold the house in London.

It still struck her as an impossible reality, but it was true, and she was here. And Ron was at Grimmauld Place, with Harry. God, she missed him. It seemed that every time she became consumed with loneliness over her parents, she would quickly think of Ron, and, tonight, with her mother's letter crumpled in her hand, she couldn't catch her breath. She had come here to hide, knees clutched to her chest, and she was running out of tears to shed, eyes burning, head throbbing, and a numb sort of misery washing over her in increasingly powerful waves.

There was a scrape of trainers down the corridor, on the other side from her hiding place, and she held her breath, waiting for whoever it was to please go away. But the sounds increased, and was that Ginny's voice?

Her eyes scanned up to stare at the dark, opaque tapestry a metre in front of her. And then-

"Hermione?" Ginny called, leaving no time for a reply before her hand pulled back the tapestry to reveal herself... and Ron, standing on the other side.

"Ron?!” Hermione cried, hardly believing he was right there.

He passed Ginny and crouched on the floor in front of her, and Ginny dropped the tapestry back in place, hiding them again.

"Hey."

He placed a tentative hand on her knee, and she stared back into his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered.

"Ginny sent her Patronus. She thought maybe-"

He paused and shrugged.

"-maybe you'd want me to come see you."

"I have no idea how she knew I was upset, but oh my God, I'm glad you're here."

She gripped his hand tightly, and he gave her a sad smile in return.

"What's going on?" he asked, softly.

"My parents," she sighed, sucking in a breath as she held back another sob. "My parents sold their house."

He stared for a moment, looking puzzled, and she realised her mistake.

“Our house,” she corrected, “in London. It's g-gone. They aren't coming back…”

She held up the parchment, half crushed in her fist, allowing him to take it from her. He shifted to sit closer, opening the letter. As his eyes darted across the page, she could picture all the words written there as he was silently reading them…

Hermione,

We've sold the house in London. Your father thought you should have a portion of the sale, so we've made a deposit into your savings account. The rest of your belongings will be transferred to our storage room in Surrey, and we'll leave a key in your safe deposit box at the bank. As always, visit any time. We're staying in the house in Adelaide for now.

Love, Mum

“Well,” Ron began, clearing his throat, “she sounds a bit more positive toward you than last time, at least.”

“Ron, she sold our house!”

She knew it wasn't fair to shout at him. She could tell by the way his forehead creased that he was trying very hard to hide his true reaction, hoping to avoid making her feel any worse. But it wouldn't make a difference, and underneath what she felt about her parents, she really was so relieved to see him.

“I know. I'm sorry…” he said, eyes softening.

“I really thought they might still change their minds and come home,” she sniffed, wiping tears from under her eyes as they fell.

He shifted even closer, so his legs were bent up by her back and his elbow was resting on her knee. His free hand pulled one of hers into his lap, and he ran his fingertips up and down her palm before threading their fingers and meeting her eyes.

“They should have talked to you before they did it,” he said, quietly.

“It's my fault. I sent them away to begin with.”

“You know what I'm gonna say to that.”

“I did it for them, to save them, I know,” she said, managing a small smile as her eyes blurred with tears again. “But now…”

She closed her eyes for a second and gripped his hand tighter.

“I don't even have a home, anymore. Aside from Hogwarts and holidays with your family, I've lived there my whole life, Ron.”

“Yeah,” he said, a bit hoarsely.

He might have been about to say more, but her thoughts shifted suddenly back to the details of his appearance.

“How'd you even get in here this late?”

“Ginny met me at the gates to let me through,” he explained.

“And she knew I was up here?”

“Nah, this was about the tenth place we checked,” he said, tugging the corner of his mouth up precisely enough to be considered a lopsided smile.

She sighed and ducked her forehead to his forearm, his elbow still resting on her knee. He brushed his thumb across her knuckles before dropping her hand to run his fingers through her hair.

“I owe Ginny,” she muttered.

“No way,” Ron countered. “Already told her she's still working off the Viktor Krum thing… She'll have to sneak me into Hogwarts a few more times to even us out.”

In spite of everything, Hermione actually heard herself laugh, and she was once again so relieved to have him next to her.

“What are you doing to make us even for that, then?”

“Dunno. What’d’you want?”

She turned her head to the side, cheek against his forearm, so she could see his face through a frizzy tangle of her hair.

“Sneak into Hogwarts a few more times,” she suggested, softly.

“Done.”

She stared at him quietly, for a while, calmed by the feeling of his hand continuing to play with her hair. But there was still a dark shadow, looming over her.

“It just doesn't seem real,” she said. “Don't know why I kept hoping they'd…” She paused, closed her eyes again. “And now I've got to figure out what to do when I leave here.”

Though she couldn't see him, she could feel a sort of tension emanating from him before he spoke.

“I've got some ideas on that,” he said, in a low voice.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head, and his hand dropped to the side of her neck.

“Like what?”

Her heart was beating a bit faster than she could make sense of, just yet.

“You could move in with me and Harry,” he suggested. “Or… we could get our own place, if you want…”

He licked his bottom lip nervously, but she felt suddenly so much lighter. Smiling, she laid her arm across his, fingertips on his knuckles.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled back, evidently encouraged by her positive response. “I know it's not the same, and it's not what you wanted, but-”

“It’s definitely what I want. I hadn't thought living with you was on the table back when I was planning to go home after Hogwarts…”

“Well…” he shrugged, “I just hadn't got around to mentioning it.”

“You aren't just offering because I don't have anywhere to go?” Her voice was a bit higher pitched than she would have liked, but she was mostly over the idea of being embarrassed around him. Mostly.

“Not at all, but you can pretend I'm being that generous, if you want,” he grinned.

“I’d much rather you not be, honestly…”

His hand moved against the side of her neck, and her eyelids fluttered for a moment. Her head was still throbbing and her eyes were burning, and all she wanted was to crawl into a cozy bed and fall asleep next to him.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I'm so glad you're here.”

“Love you, too,” he said, just before he closed the gap and kissed her.

It was so soft and gentle, and her hands moved together to his cheeks, warmth spreading through her as she felt his familiar stubble, her bottom lip between his. It was over too soon, but then he was wrapping an arm around her and she was half-sitting in his lap as she realised her tears were back again, damn them.

She clutched his shirt, her head on his shoulder, until finally, her eyes popped open.

“Oh, my books!”

She felt him inhale before he spoke.

“What?”

“My parents emptied the house, which means they've moved the rest of my books, and they’re all crammed in that horrible, damp storage room!”

“Oh. I could go rescue them, bring them back to Grimmauld Place and keep them in my room til you graduate-”

“Seriously?” She lifted her head from his shoulder to stare at him in awe.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, slightly puzzled by her reaction. “Why the hell not? I've got extra space.”

“You never have any idea when you're being bloody amazing, do you?”

She kissed him again before he could respond, but he caught up quickly and spread his hand up the back of her head, tangling in her hair.

Slowly pulling apart, moments later, she gazed at him and considered that her tears had finally stopped…

“Is it just me saying the word ‘books’?” he teased, grinning as she rolled her eyes playfully.

“Oh, but the key to the storage room,” she said, expression changing to disappointed as she remembered. “It's in a safe deposit box, and you won't be able to get it.”

“You can't just… let them know to expect me?”

“Doesn't work like that. It's like a Gringotts vault, aside from the dragons…”

He smiled at her joke but then returned to an expression of contemplation, trying to work out the problem…

“Hang on. This is a Muggle bank, yeah? And you realise I'm a wizard?”

“What, are you going to Polyjuice into me and then-”

He raised a brow, and she realised it was an actual solution, though slightly insane.

“Can't promise I won't have a look while I'm changing clothes,” he smirked, and she smacked his arm.

“That's a lot of work for you just to save my books…”

“Nah, sounds like a normal Tuesday afternoon when you think about our lives so far, y’know?”

She laid her head on his shoulder again, breathing more steadily than she had all evening as his arm tightened around her. She thought about the shore, near her parents’ new house in Australia, and the evenings she had spent there with him, in silence. He'd held her, just like this, and she'd realised not only did she love him more than she'd thought was possible to love anyone, but that she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, as long as he never changed his mind. Fortunately, she'd been nearly convinced that he felt the same way, and his suggestion to live together in a few months was going to be a bright spot at the end of everything else.

She closed her eyes and listened to the steady sounds of his own breathing as she drifted farther and farther away from Hogwarts and crumpled letters from Australia…

When she opened her eyes again, she was surrounded by maroon and gold and flickering candlelight. Slowly regaining awareness, she realised she was lying on the common room sofa with a very cozy blanket over her, and she remembered she'd just been sitting on the floor behind a tapestry with-

“Hey.”

He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, holding an open book.

“What…” she started, trying to piece together how she'd gotten here and how long she must have slept.

“Yeah, you fell asleep, so I brought you back here. Ginny gave me the password earlier. Almost forgot I couldn't take you up to your room." He smirked as she blinked at him. “Would've been a fun way to wake up, sliding down the stairs with me…”

“No way you carried me…”

“Why? Wasn't that far, and you weigh close to nothing.”

“Liar,” and she sat halfway up to investigate the book in his lap.

“Want me to prove it?” he suggested, closing the book, evidently unaware of her query, and crawling to his knees, shoving an arm under her. She laughed too loudly for the common room after midnight and wriggled away from him, but he tightened his grip and tugged her to the edge of the sofa.

“Stop!” she shrieked. He gently covered her mouth with his hand, laughing, and her eyebrows shot up, suddenly aware of how loud she was being.

“Wanna get me kicked out?” he whispered, now being overly cautious, but still smiling. She shook her head, and he removed his hand, releasing her waist and sitting back on the floor.

She pressed her lips together, eyes slightly widened, and he grinned, abandoning his retreat and sitting right back up on his knees again to kiss her. She gripped his shirt and closed her eyes, kissing him back until his lips parted from hers very slowly.

“Sorry,” he whispered against her mouth before he settled back again, leaving a hand on her arm. She stared at him for several dazed seconds before remembering.

“Oh, what book were you reading?”

“Hm? Oh, right.”

He reached over to where he'd dropped it to the floor and picked it up again to show her.

“Fell out of your bag when I picked you up.”

She shook her head at him in mock offense, and he shrugged.

“Anyway, I didn't want to leave just yet, but I was bored as hell and couldn't risk falling asleep, so…”

“So, that's what it takes for you to read.”

He hit her leg lightly with her own book, but she grabbed it and turned it to see what it was.

“You're reading a Muggle fiction book?”

“Same question to you,” he said, raising a brow. “Have you run out of material in the Hogwarts library?”

“Shut up. I do occasionally read fiction… occasionally.”

“Right, so what's this one about? You woke up before I got past the first page.”

“I should make you wait to find out…”

She stretched out on the sofa, face level with his shoulder as he leaned back again and opened the book to the first page.

“Ron?” she said, in a very quiet voice.

“Hm?”

“My mum used to read this to me, but I didn’t care for it when I was little. I would get bored and want to read something else. When we went back to the house, after Australia, I thought I’d try it again, but I haven’t started it yet. I wasn’t really fair to it, the first time… and I think Mum really… really loved this one.”

He turned to fully face her, resting his arm against the sofa and still holding onto the book, open across his knees. And, as she gazed back at him, eyes watering a bit again, he took her hand and cleared his throat. "Chapter one..."