#I cannot look at this without laughing and dying and crying and passing out

[behaemoth]

Our beautiful gorjas picture with mr Joe Quinn

[ioniansunsets]

i loved your heartsteel!kayn scenarios! can you possibly do a scenario of fem!reader helping heartsteel!kayn dye his hair :3

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Getting His Hair Dyed by Reader ✖

✖ Word Count: 900

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: He has his default skin braid here. Stay tuned for more. I MISS THIS FUCKER'S BRAID OK. Also you are his long term partner! I thought it would be cute if you have been supporting him though all his ups and downs uwu

----

" For reals, you've done this before right. Don't fuck it up I swear to god I will cry I'm dealing with enough shit right now babe." " You're the one that asked me to do this for you, have some trust in me."

You comb through his braid and neatly section if off one last time before slapping on the DIY at home bleach. After getting kicked out of his old band Kayn wanted a full makeover, so with five boxes of bleach and some whining he convinced you to help him bleach and dye his hair. You stood awkwardly behind him as you comb in the bleach. Kayn wasn't wearing a shirt, so that he wouldn't ruin any tees. So it was quite a sight, hair down, topless, you pause for a bit and stare. After some thinking you sigh, you were going to miss his blue and black hair...it was so soft too...

" Hey I heard that sigh! You know I HAVE to do this...I want to change my image, show them I'm better without them!"

Kayn pouts, you see it in the mirror and laugh. Slapping on more bleach, sectioning it out and complaining once again bout how the long hair sticks to the gloves and makes it all messy. But ok, you work hard, with a roll of aluminum foil ready you neatly bleach his long hair. As you wait for the first bleaching to set in you throw a little of the leftovers on your hair too, just enough for one strip.

" Should we match colors?"

You see Kayn visibly perk up as he hears your suggestion.

" Really? I think that will be cute. Like a cringey couple."

He smirks, leaning back to take a good look at you in the toilet mirror. He starts laughing loudly.

" Wait are you copying me or making fun of me! Why bleach that same chunk of hair as the old me!"

The two of you chat for a bit as you wait for the bleach to set in, when times up you help him wash it all off in the tub. Damn his hair was really such a dark black, it was just brown now. You comment about it needed a few more rounds of bleach. Kayn sighs this time instead, exhausted already but his rockstar image was at stake, he wanted to look cool so he had to do this. He had a goal already, an ombre fade of pink and purple, it would be so cool. Sitting back down, you blow dry his hair and start on round two.

And round three. Orange.

And four. Yellow.

And five before the yellow finally lifts enough! You were finally free from seeing that yellow, orange hue! And-

Oh no. You look at a handful of hair in your hands from where you combed through his hair.

" Kayn I am so sorry..." " No! I cannot deal with this right now please. Y/N Tell me its fine." " I'll fix it!"

You too were unsure how to react, were you going to cry or laugh. After five bleaches, his hair kinda...fried off. Ah...you were REALLY going to miss his long hair. Promising to fix it, you grab some hair scissors and did your best. With Kayn doing everything to hold himself together while you save what you can and work out a messy cut. It actually looked really good. You tell him to look up as you blow dry his hair yet again. Promising it wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be. Kayn tentatively pulls his hands away from his face as he looks at himself in the mirror. A smile slowly creeping across his face.

" Oh shit you really did fix it? The hell Y/N! Let's dye it right now! I still want that pink purple thing going down!"

He tilts his head left and right, trying to get a better look at it, an idol worthy style. Kayn nods, happy with what you've done with it. Quickly you work the colors onto his hair and yours. Laughing together as he admires himself in the mirror. Half an hour passes and you wash his hair and dry it off for the last time. Kayn himself also helping to wash the and dry your hair. You smile as the two of you admire your reflections.

" Is it me or are we looking super hot?"

He snakes and arm around your waist, pulling you close. Giving your cheek a quick kiss.

" I actually like this a lot I'm glad it worked out. Thank you Y/N."

Kayn gives you a warm smile as he runs his hands through his hair, giving it a little shake as it falls gracefully along his jawline. He turns his attention back to the mirror before he shouts.

" Oh shit yeah! Let me snap a photo!"

Kayn leaves the room for a bit, grabbing his phone and a nice shirt to snap a photo in. He returns, hand draped around your shoulder as he takes a mirror selfie with you both. The largest smile plastered on his face as he sits down and edits it to use as his new wallpaper. You would mourn his pretty braid but...he was still your charming boyfriend you could live with the new style. The short hair was starting to grow on your after all.

[gaysindistress]

Here’s another list of thing that I think are canon for our lover boy Bucky and no one can convince me of otherwise.

list one

1. Bucky has complicated feelings about wanting a family.

In the 40s, he would’ve said yes in a heartbeat because that’s what was expected of him and look at him. Who wouldn’t want him as the dutiful husband and involved father of your children?

But then the war and HYDRA happened and he told himself no. Never would he have a relationship, a marriage, or a family. He had Steve and Sam (even if he didn’t want to admit the last one). He would be fine without any of that.

Things became even more complicated when Steve fucked off back to the 40s and chose Peggy. Bucky always had feelings he knew weren’t normal for his best friend but he couldn’t address them. He had more pressing matters than to figure out if he loved his best friend or loved his best friend. Deep down he wanted Steve to be more than just his family. He wanted Steve to build their family with him but when he left without so much as a good explanation, it crushed him.

Sam stepped up and showed him what found family meant, showing Bucky that family didn’t have to be born. We can choose who we love and call our family. Being so quickly accepted by Sam’s family meant the world to him because it meant that they wanted to be around him. They wanted to get to know him and to care for him. It wasn’t out of duty, honor, pride, or any of that other bullshit. It was out a desire to care for and love Bucky as he was.

Finding his family in Sam felt like that one Hozier song:

I got some colour back, she thinks so too

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you

Except Bucky knows that Sam cannot replace Steve not does he want that. He wants a fresh start and that’s what he got.

Now…. when he meets you?

All bets are off. This man sees you hanging out and bonding with Sam’s nephews as if they’re your own, and he’s weak in the knees. You help Sarah with something in the kitchen? Bucky needs a minute to recalibrate his brain. You flick shit at Sam? Bucky is smiling but also dying on the inside because his heart is beating so fast and he can’t get it under control.

But the moment he sees you gently rocking a baby to sleep, he’s about to drop onto one knee and ask you to marry him. You’re talking to Sarah and someone had passed off this crying child to you so you zip them into your coat and start swaying to get them to calm down. You’re patting their back in slow rhythmic motions, much the same way you do to Bucky when he’s feeling anxious or has a nightmare. Sarah doesn’t bat an eye because she has two kids of her own and you two carry on your conversation. When Sam and him walk over, he literally stops dead in his tracks and gasps. Sam goes to give him shit but he follows his eye-line to you and makes a point to get your attention. You turn around ever so slightly and that’s it. Bucky is a puddle on the ground at the sight of you with a fast asleep baby wrapped in your coat.

2. He is actually a diva when it comes to the closet and your clothes.

He has a system okay? Shirts, jackets, sweaters, and sweatshirts all get hung up. Undershirts and pants are folded while his underwear and socks are rolled into neat little sausages so they can be put into a drawer. His shoes go under where his clothes are hung up and whenever he hangs up his clothes, they all get turned right side out so he can see what they are when he’s flipping through them.

You on the other hand are a savage and shove whatever fits into the drawer. Yes of course, socks and underthings go in one, shirts in another with bottoms in the last drawer but there’s no order. It’s all chaos and on more than one occasion, he has made you sit down and reorganize everything. Your clothes are going to look the way his do and he will do your laundry for you if that means it stays that way.

Although when you move in together, it’s gets significantly better because he’s the one doing laundry so he has complete control over it.

3. Mexican food is his shit.

Mexican food didn’t become mainstream outside of South Western America until after he was taken by HYDRA so it’s unlikely that he’s ever had it prior to TFATWS.

He and Sam needed to go to San Diego for some Captain America thing and you went with them. You were craving some legit tacos after being on the East Coast for too long. There are obviously good taquerias and even Mexican restaurants in general in Washington D.C. but those places don’t compare to California’s Mexican food.

(This part is based entirely on my own experiences) Once you’ve had food from the taquerias that sit in parking lots, nothing can compare to the thrill of ordering and being able to taste how fresh it is. The pickled carrots and jalapeños are so crisp. The radishes taste like the pico de gallo because they used the same knife to cut it and your sauce levels are white people, normal, and abuelita.

Anyways you drag them along and Bucky is making comments about how you’ve lost your mind because “this is parking lot to an empty store. There’s not going to be food here.” Sam is snickering in the back seat because he knows what’s up and he helped pick the place.

Bucky doesn’t want to get out of the car at first but when you hop out, he’s swinging that door open and trailing after you. There ain’t no way in hell he’s letting you walk up to this food truck but yourself. He’s also completely taken aback by the fact that you order what he thinks is enough food for ten people and not three. You send a quick smile to him over your shoulder and thank the people as you start passing food off to him and Sam. When you all sit down at the wooden picnic table that’s sitting off to the side of the taqueria, you explain what everything is and even tell Bucky what order he should eat.

After that, he’s practically begging you to take him back so you can get some of the “best damn food he’s had in a long time.”

[axxio-sriracha]

Marauders as conversations I've had with my three brothers.

~~~♤~~~

*playing mario party*

Sirius: What even is birdo?

Remus: Are you kidding me?

Sirius: No... What it's like a- it's like a duck, right?

James: *laughing and spitting out soda* A duck?

~~~♤~~~

Peter: Can somebody please give me some sugar, I'm going to like pass out.

James: *walking towards him with stretched arms* Okay, c'mere bro, I'll give you some sugar.

Peter: *running away screaming*

Sirius: *watching the chaos* Who even says 'give me some sugar' anymore?

Remus: Fuck if I know man, I just live here.

~~~♤~~~

James: We have a lot of weird conversations in the car

Sirius: I guess, idk they seem normal to me.

James: Pads, you literally just told me you would torture zombies into submission in an apocalypse...

Sirius: ... okay maybe you're right.

James: We should have more serious conversations like... like our taxes or something.

Sirius: If I ever talk to you about my taxes just fucking shoot me.

~~~♤~~~

James: I just built an entire working community complete with a hospital and a grocery store in minecraft.

Sirius: Oh yeah? I just put on knee high socks without rolling them up first.

James: *sighing* fuck you got me there, man.

Remus: *staring at them both in disappointment* I cannot believe I live with you two.

~~~♤~~~

*in the car blasting 'I Want It That Way' by the Backstreet Boys*

James: *singing horribly* YOU ARE... MY FIRE

Sirius: *literally just screeches* THE ONE... DESIREEEE

Peter: *absolute war-cry* BELIEVE... WHEN I SAY-

All three of them: *whales are terrified across the globe* I WANT IT THAAAT WAYYYY

Remus: *curled up in the backseat trying to read* What is my life?

~~~♤~~~

*playing minecraft*

James: YOU FUCKING BLEW UP MY HOUSE YOU DICKBAG!

Sirius: I'M LITERALLY TELLING YOU IT WASN'T ME!!

Peter: *shaking in creeper magnet* What if we all just have some chips guys??

~~~♤~~~

*texting*

Sirius: Can u plz get me diet soda while ur @ the store

Remus: No.

Sirius: Plz, im dying, i rlly need drinks

Remus: Text me properly and maybe I'll consider it.

Sirius: ughhhhh nvm ill ask james

~~~♤~~~

Sirius: That basketball game was so much fun, dude, we got some free stuff!!

Remus: How'd you get those?

Peter: *sighing* He stole them off of a table and ran away.

Sirius: *nodding* We also got taco bell :)

Remus: You know what, remind me not to ask next time.

~~~♤~~~

*Peter and Remus prepping a meal*

Sirius: You ever wonder if fruit can feel things?

James: *not looking up from his phone* They can.

Peter: *Horrified*

Remus: Well, there goes my help for the fruit salad.

~~~♤~~~

Remus: I really just want to go home and drink tea and read my book, not gonna lie.

James: You are such a nerd.

Peter: Says the guy with like 400 Pokémon cards.

James: *gasping* Those are collectors items, leave them out of this.

~~~♤~~~

James: These are my brothers, Peter and Remus.

Sirius: *offended*

James: *quietly* I try not to introduce you if I can help it, it scares people off.

~~~♤~~~

James: *walking through the door* Hey guys, I'm back!

Sirius: *screaming at Peter to turn off the smoke detector*

Peter: *literally trying to put out a fire*

Fire: *is from a microwaved ramen with no water in it*

The entire house: *smoking and smells like radioactive styrofoam*

Remus: *lying face down on the couch low-key sobbing while listening to spotify*

James: *turning back around* You know, one of these days I'll come home to a normal household.

James: Maybe you'll all be dead, but it'll be normal.

~~~♤~~~

[a-funeral-pyre]

May Day Parade - Round 3: free space

Once again for @queer-ragnelle 's initiative. I am officially unable to write anything but angst, so this is what I came up with. Since I already wrote about Mordred and I mean to write about Gawain, I thought it was fair to try with the other Orkney brothers. So here it is:

You always knew you were a sinner.

There is more blood on your hands than your uncle wants to see spilled. You felt no mercy as Lamorak coughed up blood and begged to be spared.

But at least you never betrayed your king.

You wonder if he will remember when he sees your body. If this time he will top defending the man who dared to continue to smile at him after getting into his bride's bed.

If he can finally open his eyes and see all the rot that lurks in his shining court.

But you do not want to hope too much. He will probably regret the traitor's loss more than yours. And even if he doesn't, none of your companions will shed a tear for you.

You've made too many enemies in this life. You have never regretted it until this moment.

You don't even know if, given the chance to survive, you would go back. It would be nice to know that someone will miss you. But you would never be able to mend the bonds you broke in your desire to rise above others. Once you put out the fire of envy, you don't know what else could be driving you.

You did not even manage to eliminate the man you most wanted to see fall. And even if his treachery has been discovered, your life will not be considered by anyone too high a price for the revelation of his disloyalty.

You will be remembered only as the wild son of Orkney, thirsty for blood and revenge, and many will sleep better once they hear of your passing. If the thought gave you comfort while you were alive, now you only wish you hadn't spent your life hating those who were brighter than you.

Maybe then your end would have been happier. You probably wouldn't even have died the same way.

At least you wouldn't be here, bleeding out alone, on the cold floor of the room of two blasphemous lovers. When you watched Lamorak take his last ragged breaths, you did not think it would happen to you.

But, if you had someone to call a friend by your side, it would not be so hard to wait for nothing to come.

You manage to block your thoughts before they can degenerate. They will not help you right now, just as they did not help you in life.

It was not out of loyalty that you avenged your uncle's honor. Part of you hopes he does not notice.

You just want to feel like it was worth getting to this point.

…

Your mother would laugh at you if she were here.

She has every right to do so. The man who treacherously killed her, eliminated without warning by a traitor. You would laugh too, if breathing wasn't too painful.

This day would have been hard enough to bear without ending with your death, and with Gareth's cries ringing in your head while you are unable to move and look for him.

It is the right punishment for someone like you, and you are not blind enough not to recognize it.

You would not have wanted to let your queen burn, despite her guilt. But you were not as kind to your own blood. And even if that was not why Lancelot wanted to kill you, you cannot help but feel like fate is punishing you.

But by now, it is too late to regret. At least you are certain that this was the fate you deserved. You could not escape your damnation forever.

You should have no reason to cry for your life. Not after everything you have done. You should have known that sooner or later you would pay for your sins, and your end would not be peaceful.

At least you will see Agravain again. You will burn together, struck down by the same hand. You never thought the thought would bring you comfort.

But Gareth should not be here dying with you. There was no reason why he should pay too.

And there will be someone who will suffer your end in your place. Your uncle has already lost a nephew, a spouse, and a friend. And even if he may accept it, Gawain will not. You listened as he asked you not to participate in the execution.

You do not deserve Lynette's tears.

At least you will not see their mourning. At least you will never know what will happen next, when you are no longer here.

Death brings more death. You have witnessed this many times. And you know that your end is just the beginning. Your brother will not let this act go unpunished.

It's not worth it. Maybe for Gareth. But not for you.

But through your clouded eyes you find no one alive to tell. The blood trail has already been traced. The downfall of Camelot has begun, and you will not be able to stop it. You are dying alone and a sinner, and everything around you is burning.

You try to speak, but only smoke from the fire fills your lungs as you take your last breath. Mother, you try to call, are you satisfied now?

…

You should never have come here.

You should not have agreed to watch the death of the woman you swore to serve and honor. Perhaps, despite her guilt, you should have tried to prevent this sentence from falling on her.

At least she is safe. But, if you had resisted – if only you had decided to follow Gawain and walk away from this place until the ashes had cooled – you would be too.

You just expected that you would contemplate an end you should have opposed to, go home, and try to shake off the memory. You did not believe your life would end instead.

You did not think he would be the one to hit you.

You would not have stopped him. If you had had the courage, you would have joined him. You remember the last words you spoke – you vaguely remember trying to call him, telling him you were not going to fight him, begging him to save the queen.

It was not enough.

You do not want to blame him. Maybe if Lyonesse had been in Guinevere's place, you would have done the same thing he did, even if it meant breaking your vows.

But, even when your soul has completely detached from your body, you will not forget the look on his face as he hit you. The fury, the blind desire to pour blood and fire into the world just so he would not lose everything.

He hated you as his blade fell upon you. His eyes killed you before the metal.

If you had survived, maybe you would have had to fight him. Maybe you would have had to face his contempt again anyway. And you would have had to live with the fact that, after today, he became an enemy.

But this awareness does not save you as you drown in the cold and darkness, with the memory of your last meeting burning inside you.

For a moment you wish you had died before you met your wife, when you had not revealed the truth yet. You would have died anyway, but it would not have been with the knowledge that your world was poisoned and about to collapse. It would not have been with the thought of what Lyonesse will feel when they bring her your bod. It wouldn't be by the hand of the man you considered a friend.

If you had died before, you would not be here wondering what will be the fate of your now too torn family, of the kingdom you swore to protect and of whose fall you will be only one of the first victims.

If you could get up, if you still had the strength to speak, you would go to your uncle and beg him not to shed any more blood. To give up his revenge, not to allow others to end up like you.

But you're too busy wishing for your agony to be short to try. You can only pray – and desperately try to ignore the awareness that your prayers will go unanswered.

[daddyyy88]

Lo’ak x Omaticaya!reader

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 8.7k

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of infection, smut, readers mom dies, ?

summary: honestly I have no idea what this is it was supposed to be a small little blurb about Lo’ak talking to Kiri about his crush on y/n and then this happened…it’s basically a story of how Lo’ak x reader’s relationship started

anything in bold like this in the middle of a sentence means it’s either Na’vi or meant to be in Na’vi but I don’t trust the translation websites so I just use the few words I know and make do with it💀

sorry this took sooo long! I’m on spring break and I kinda took a break cause I’ve been feeling a little out of it and I think I’m gonna fulfill a request and then continue taking a break. I’m not sure yet, just feeling kinda lazy lately 🤷‍♀️

You and Kiri had been inseparable for years. You had a similar situation to her, your father died when you were young and your mother had been very overwhelmed with the loss of her mate and taking care of a young child and it made her sick, and she is still very sick to this day.

You understood what it felt like to feel like a freak, like you’re not like everyone else. You’d always been secretly jealous of her, though. She got a second chance at having a family with the Sullys. Your mother was too weak to even speak some days, and had spent most of the last year in a healers tent.

You knew your mother was going to join Eywa soon, and it had been bringing you down lately. Kiri noticed you didn’t come to see her as much, and you always seemed like you had been crying. She felt terrible for you, although her biological mother was unresponsive and for all intents and purposes dead, at least she could watch all those videos and get to spend time with her avatar body in the pod.

“Hey…is y/n okay?” Lo’ak asked Kiri. She looked up from the top she was making for Neytiri since hers was starting to become worn out. She sighed and said “she’s a strong girl, she will make it through this”

“What is “this”? No matter who I ask, no one will tell me what is troubling her” he said and Kiri looked down. She sighed softly and whispered “y/n’s mom is dying. She has been for years, after her father died she couldn’t take care of herself and y/n and it started to make her sick, and then she got hurt while hunting once and it got infected. It’s been 3 years, and Mo’at said she doesn’t have much time. She cannot walk at all or even sit up anymore, she can barely talk, she can only drink her meals and she’s always sleeping. She’s all y/n has left, so it’s really hard on her”

“No…no, no the great mother would never do that to her,” Lo’ak said, shaking his head. Kiri bit her lip and said “I’m sorry Lo’ak. If there’s anybody who wishes different for her it’s me” “why hasn’t she told anyone?” He asked and Kiri wiped a tear away.

“She just doesn’t want anyone to pity her and force her into being with her mom all the time. It’s why she hasn’t hunted in so long, she wants to be there when she passes but it’ll kill her to truly watch her wither away so agonizingly” Kiri said softly, sniffling a little.

She felt so bad for you. She couldn’t imagine truly watching her mother die. “I-Is she okay? How is she doing? Do you think I should bring her some food or something?” He asked and Kiri chuckled.

“Why do you care so much, penis face? You got a crush?” She asked, trying to lighten the mood. Lo’ak shook his head and said “ugh, shut up Kiri” “oh my god, you do! You’ve got a crush on my best friend! Ew!” She said and laughed, making Lo’ak blush hard.

She kept nagging him until he finally said “fine, I like her! I really freaking like her!” “Oh my god, no way! Good luck trying to get her to fall in love with you!” She said and giggled. Lo’ak sighed and said “shut up! I see you drooling every time you even hear Ketu’s name!”

“She’s too pretty for you anyways! Penis face!” She said and Lo’ak blushed. He chuckled and said “Prettier than you!” She gasped and threw a vine she cut off from the top earlier at him. She shook her said “so what do you like about her?”

“Stop, Kiri” he said and groaned. She smiled and said “come on, tell me!” “I just…well I liked her smile at first. A-And I thought she was pretty” he said softly, fiddling with a bracelet you gifted him for his birthday.

“Anddd?” Kiri said, giggling. Lo’ak groaned and said “you’re so annoying” “ugh, whatever. Just don’t try to really go for her right now. She’s hurt, and she’s gonna need time to heal when she loses her mom. It would help if you were there to comfort her though, don’t you think?” Kiri said and he nodded.

What they didn’t know, was that you were coming to talk to Kiri just a few seconds after Lo’ak and heard the entire conversation. You blush slightly, dry tears from thinking about your mom staining your skin.

You rustled the leaves and then shook the flap of the tent to get their attention. “Hey, can I come in?” You asked, wiping your face to get rid of the evidence of tears.

You came in and sat between Lo’ak and Kiri, talking like everything was normal. You could see Lo’ak staring at you from the corner of your eye, and Kiri not so secretly mocking him.

You noticed Lo’ak trying to be around you more often, bringing you gifts and food. It made you fall for him even harder.

You had just gotten ready for your birthday celebration, you had gotten quite dressed up since you hadn’t gotten a chance to do that in a while and you wanted to feel beautiful tonight.

Your mother was getting worse and worse. You knew she had mere weeks, maybe even days left. You just wanted a distraction. It had been 3 months since you overheard Lo’ak talking to Kiri. Things had changed quite a bit.

2 weeks after that, he confessed that he’d been so kind because he knew about your mother. You cried softly as you thanked him for not judging you or treating you like glass. Sure he’d been bringing you gifts and sort of taking care of you, but he wasn’t actually treating you differently.

You confessed that you knew about Lo’ak’s feelings and even though he was terrified, he made sure you knew how he truly felt. “I…I-I really like you, y/n. I know we’re not the closest but I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re…you’re an amazing woman and any man in the clan would be lucky to have you, but I really want to be that man. O-Oel ngati kameie, y/n” he said and you instantly began to cry more.

You hugged him, crying into his chest softly. You ended up kissing him for the first time that night, promising yourself to him. He told you you didn’t have to, and that he knew you weren’t in the best place right now. You didn’t care, you knew then and there that Lo’ak was the one. Just for good measure, Atokirina made its way over to the two of you. Eventually, there were Atokirina lining up and down each other's arms to your joint hands, making him realize you were telling the truth.

Your relationship blossomed into something beautiful, trully. Neytiri and Jake loved you even more, you kept Lo’ak in line and made him really happy. Kiri pretended she was disgusted but she was glad you had someone to take care of you and love you and she trusted that her brother was the perfect person for you.

Now, you were celebrating your 20th birthday and you looked divine. Your hair was let down from the signature braids you usually wore, you had a few framing your face and forming a beautiful crown that eventually came together and was held by a beautiful blue flower. You made yourself a new top and loincloth, the top accentuating your breasts more than you thought and making Lo’ak drool over you all night. Your loincloth matched, with similar sage green stones you’d found by a river added across the covering and you even made matching waist beads and other jewelry. You really went all out this year.

Lo’ak thought you looked absolutely stunning. He truly believed Eywa had perfected you herself, he felt so lucky to be the man you wanted most.

You spent the morning flying your ikran with Lo’ak and the afternoon with your mother, she seemed to be getting stronger out of nowhere, she ate a little bit of your breakfast and even held a conversation with you for a bit. She was so proud of the woman you’d become, and loved the outfit you made for your birthday.

“What do you think, ma sa’nok?” You asked her, twirling to show the full outfit including your hair. She smiled and said “nífrakrr, lenrra, ‘itetsyìp” (as always, proud, little daughter). You smiled as well, sitting next to her and holding her hand. You kissed it softly and said “I wish you could be at the celebration tonight, mother”

“Don’t worry, my daughter. I want you to celebrate yourself, and your achievements tonight. Promise me you’ll tell me all about it in the morning, yes?” She said with a wink. You blushed softly, she was encouraging you to take it further with Lo’ak constantly. You shook your head and said “promise,”

Lo’ak came in and said “oel ngati kameie, Mäti” and gestured towards your mother. She smiled and said “za’u, ‘evengan” (come, boy). He sat on the other side of her, grabbing her hand softly. She sighed and said “make sure she has fun tonight”

“Nìlun,” (of course) Lo’ak promised. He looked at you and smiled as he said “you look very, beautiful, my love. Someone might steal you from me tonight” You blushed softly, thanking him. Of course he brought your mother some berries that his mother had left over from lunch as well as matching flowers to put in both of your hair.

You loved how much he cared for your mother. It made you feel lucky, and you know if something ever happened to you you had the best mate possible to comfort you. She eventually forced you out to go celebrate and smiled as she watched the two of you giggle as you ran out.

Mo’at was visiting everyone in the tents to check up on them. That’s when she realized it. “Mäti…I know you know why you feel better” she said and Mäti looked away. She sighed and said “No…no, no please please do whatever you have to do. I can’t do that to her. She is finally feeling happy with that boy, and it’s her birthday, Mo’at”

“It is not under our control. I’m so sorry, Mäti…..I tried, I really tried” Mo’at told her, holding her hand.

“Y/n!” Tuk said as she ran to you. You smiled and picked her up, twirling her around. You kissed her head and she giggled, playing with the new feathers you put in your hair. “You look so pretty!” She said and you thanked her.

“What a fine young woman in my tent, someone should claim her as theirs soon, don’t you think Ma Jake?” Neytiri said, shoving Lo’ak slightly. He rolled his eyes and you blushed softly, looking down. Jake winced at his mate’s bluntness. He chuckled and said “I see you have chosen a mate for Lo’ak”

He spoke cautiously, knowing she was getting annoyed with how long he had taken to find someone. Now all she wants is for the two of you to mate so you keep him in line and make him happy.

“You guys are so annoying. Tell her Happy Birthday” Lo’ak said, trying to stop from blushing and cursing his tail for giving away how excited he was thinking about the two of you mating. He wrapped it around your thigh, pulling you a little closer.

You spent some time with them, but as eclipse began it was time to begin the celebrations. You feasted and enjoyed delicious meat prepared by Jake and a few of the other men in the clan and some other dishes Neytiri and Mo’at made for you.

You danced for hours, sometimes with Lo’ak but then Kiri and Tuk wanted to steal you. Lo’ak smiled as he watched you. You looked gorgeous. And you were so goddamn happy. He wished he could stay in this moment forever.

“Lo’ak, come!” You said, grabbing his hand. You two had been dancing to this particular beat since you were kids. You were always friends, even if you weren’t best friends you still hung out solely with him every now and then before you began dating. Dancing to this beat was your very own special thing you had with each other.

You smiled as you both remembered the steps and everything. You could see his fangs as he grinned boyishly, his eyes lit up with love and adoration for you. Neytiri and Jake cheered you on, making you both laugh as you realized everyone was watching.

As soon as it was over, he pulled you into his arms and you sighed, resting your head on his chest. Neteyam wolf whistled making everyone laugh, well those who knew what it meant anyways.

“Look at you, skxawng” He said and shoved him jokingly. Lo’ak shook his head and said “shut up, you’re just jealous!” You giggled and said “stop it, Lo’ak. Enough bickering with your brother. Be nice. God, if this is how you and Neteyam are I wonder how our kids will behave”

You didn’t realize how big of a comment you’d made. Our kids. You wanted kids with him? You wanted him to father your children? He felt so lucky, so grateful. He recovered quickly, laughing about it and kissing your head.

Another hour or so and you two ran off so you could do something you’d done every year since you could remember. “Utral Aymokriyä?” Lo’ak asked and you chuckled. You nodded and said “I like to listen to my fathers voice every year…this year I’m also listening for grandmother and grandfather as well since my mother can’t come and listen herself”

“You’re so sweet” he said and caressed your cheek, pecking your lips softly. You chuckled and grabbed his hand, running over to the tree. You smiled and connected your kuru to the tree. You chuckled as you heard the voices of your ancestors, closing your eyes.

Lo’ak hugged you from behind, caressing your waist softly. “Do you ever come here?” You asked after you disconnected from the tree. Lo’ak shrugged and said “sometimes. It’s never been a big priority for me, although maybe it should seeing as it makes you so happy”

You shook your head and he grabbed his kuru, connecting it to the tree. He hummed, listening to the voices as he felt your tail caress his back. You kissed his shoulder, resting your head on his arm.

He disconnected and smiled down at you. You smiled, pulling away. You twirled through the glowing vines and ran your hands over them. “You’re so gorgeous…” he said as he watched you, making you stop and blush.

He walked over and said “I’m serious. You’re as perfect as it gets, y/n. Eywa really outdid herself creating you” You looked away, embarrassed. He loved everything about you, but if there was one thing he could change it would be your reluctance to accept his compliments.

“My love, I am serious. Eywa, you look incredible tonight. I can barely keep myself together on a regular day, tonight has just made me crazy for you” he said and cupped your cheeks, pressing your foreheads together. You felt something pressing against your lower stomach and you looked down, realizing it was him.

“Shit- I’m sorry,” he said and pulled away, turning around and clearing his throat. You hugged him from behind and said “don’t hide it from me…I want to know how I make you feel” “y/n…no, no we must wait” he said and took a deep breath as you started to touch him over his loincloth.

You kissed his arm and said “it’s my birthday, Lo’ak. Shouldn’t the birthday girl get what she wants?” “Y/n…” he said and cleared his throat. You moved so you were facing him, looking up at him as you were nearly a foot shorter.

He took a deep breath, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your plump lips, then your breasts. He quickly regained himself, looking you in the eye. You licked your lips, placing your hands on his chest. You bit your lip and said “please, Ma Lo’ak. I want you”

He cupped your cheeks and kissed you softly, gently placing a hand on your waist. You pulled away after a few moments, smiling at him. He tapped your thigh and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his hips.

He bent down, laying you gently on the ground. “I want to be mated to you forever, Lo’ak” you said and he smiled. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed you again.

“Oel ngati kameie” he said against your lips. You smiled and flipped the two of you over, kissing down his neck as you caressed his biceps. He rested his hands on your hips and you smiled through the kiss.

You pulled away, panting softly. You pressed your forehead against his and said “Oel ngati kameie” Eywa, the way you said it nearly had him ruining his loincloth.

You reached back and grabbed your braid, bringing it forward. The pink tendrils twitching and searching for something to connect to. He took a deep breath and you could tell he was really nervous.

“We don’t have to…I’ll wait as long as I have to for you” you said and he blushed. Atokirina slowly surrounded you, seemingly dancing in the circle and a few others flew around the two of you. He nodded, trusting Eywa and especially trusting you.

He brought his braid forward and made tsaheylu with you, closing his eyes. You gasped, a small whimper coming out. You placed a hand on his chest, keeping yourself upright as you felt something…euphoric.

You could feel Lo’ak’s heartbeat, his breath. You sense how nervous yet excited he was. You could hear his thoughts as well. “Oh Eywa,” he whispered, opening his eyes. You breathed shakily as you gulped and opened your eyes.

He smiled up at you and you smiled back. You shook your head and said “I’m so in love with you,” “I know. I can feel it” he said and you teared up a little. You could too. You could feel how his heart swelled with adoration, him thinking about making you feel amazing and cuddling under the stars with you afterwards.

You slowly worked your top off, making his eyes widen. Sure he had accidentally seen them a few times as the tops the Omaticaya women wore weren’t exactly the best at actually covering them, but oh my god they were even better fully bare and up close.

“Y-Y/n…” he said, looking up at you. You smiled and said “yes…” “you’re so beautiful” he said softly, his eyes dropping to your breasts again. He kissed your left boob softly, trailing kisses towards the valley of your breasts and then your right boob.

You moaned a little as he kissed your nipple, threading a hand through his hair. “You’re beautiful, Lo’ak” you said and he whined as he suckled a hickey onto your boob.

“Baby…” he groaned, squeezing your hips slightly. You chuckled and kissed his head, removing your arm band. He was lost between your boobs, not a single thought going through his head besides you. You moaned softly when he suckled directly on your nipple, kitten licking it and making you moan even more.

When he was done you were already a mess, loincloth nearly soaked, flushed cheeks, panting a little. He smirked and untied his loincloth, revealing a third leg. You didn’t think he’d be that big. Sure you’d caught glimpses here and there of him but he was still covered by the loincloth.

And sure, he seemed like he was packing decently but this was crazy. He was really thick too, you could probably get your entire hand around him but barely. You gasped when it bobbed and right under your breasts, your eyes widened and he chuckled at your reaction.

“What’s wrong?” He asked knowingly. You looked at him and then back at his cock, unable to keep your eyes off of it. It was pretty, just like him. “I-It…you’re too big, Lo’ak, th-there's no way that’s going to fit” you said and he chuckled.

He kissed you softly and said “we’ll make it fit. Promise. Last thing I want to do is hurt you” You nodded and he smiled and caressed your cheek. His tail slowly wrapped itself around your thigh making you blush a little.

He helped you remove your loincloth but stopped you from taking off your waist beads, Eywa they just accentuate your figure so nicely. He kissed you softly and slowly trailed his hand down to your pussy gathering your slick and teasing a finger at your entrance.

You bit your lip and sighed shakily, moaning softly when he massaged your clit with his thumb. You whimpered, clenching as you ached to be full. “Lo’ak…I need more,” you pleaded, pawing at his chest.

He squeezed your thigh with his other hand and slipped a finger in, slowly thrusting it and seeing how it made you feel. You breathed shakily, leaning down to kiss him. “More,” you whispered against his lips and his cock twitched, you drove him fucking crazy.

“Baby…” he said and you whimpered. He slipped another finger in and warmth blossomed between your legs as you gushed around him with need. He smiled and thrusted his fingers a few times before curling them to find your g spot.

When he could feel the intensified pleasure through tsaheylu and your gasp accompanied with a loud moan, he knew he had found it. “Oh…oh Eywa,” you moaned, placing a hand on his chest and pressing down slightly as he worked you to an orgasm as fast as he could.

“Feels good?” He asked, he could already feel it through tsaheylu but he wanted to hear it from you. You whimpered and nodded, gasping softly as he went faster. You buried your head into his chest, your cunt clenching as you rocked your hips slightly against his skillful fingers.

“Can feel you squeezin my fingers. That good, princess?” He asked and you took a deep breath as you started to feel that tingly feeling in your lower belly. “Lo’ak!” You moaned when he started rubbing your clit harder.

You looked so beautiful above him, pussy clenching around his fingers. Moaning his name. It did something to him, and made him go crazy. You whimpered as he abused your most sensitive spots, already bringing you to an orgasm faster than you ever have yourself and it’s only the first time.

“Lo’ak, ohh it feels so good!” You moaned and he smiled. He lifted your head and kissed you, your legs beginning to shake. You whimpered and pulled away, moans filling the surrounding forest around you as your breath became heavy and fast.

Tears filled your eyes as you said “I’m cumming- I- I- ahh!” You came harder than you ever have before, barely able to hold yourself up anymore. Lo’ak smiled as you started to squirt, your eyes shut hard and your jaw dropping.

“Yes, my love… just like that, you look so beautiful” he said and you whimpered, gasping at it only seemed to get more and more intense. “Ohh! Lo’ak, baby…” you moaned, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

He rubbed your back softly and said “you okay, sweetheart?” You just moaned in response as you felt him slip his fingers out. He chuckled and popped them in his mouth, sighing happily through his nose as he tasted your sweet slick.

You whimpered and sat up, hovering right over his dick before he stopped you. “Hey, hey are you sure? You just- y-you just c-came kinda hard- a-at least I think you did- maybe you should take a second,” he said and you chuckled.

“You made me feel things I have never felt before, Lo’ak. That is why I want to try and do the same for you. Do you not want this?” You said and he took a deep breath. Through tsaheylu, you knew he wanted it but something else was bothering him, you couldn’t quite tell.

“I don’t know I’m…I’m scared” he said and you sighed. You sat on his upper thighs as you cupped his cheeks and said “we are already together for life now, we do not have to make love tonight”

“No- n-no it’s- we will” he said and sat up, trying to force you up so he could slip it in. You stopped him, holding yourself down as you said “hey- hey! Why are you scared?” “I’m not anymore. You are my mate…for life, y/n. Eywa has shown us that we are meant for each other, there is no reason to be scared” he said and you smiled.

You caressed his cheek and slowly lifted your hips up, allowing him to line himself up at the entrance. “Go slow…don’t hurt yourself” he said and you nodded. You slowly sunk down on the tip, gasping softly as your pussy clenched. You already felt so full and not even ⅓ of his dick was in yet.

He was going to ask if it hurt but he could feel through tsaheylu that it was actually quite the opposite. He chuckled, going to kiss you but being hit with an amazing feeling as you clenched around him. “O-Ohh…” he said, his hands on your waist tightening as his cock twitched.

“Can- c-can I do more?” You asked and he nodded. You took a deep breath and sunk down more, a moan escaping your lips. He groaned and said “shit…” “Eywa, you’re huge” you said, almost all the way but it was getting to be too much so you stopped again.

He smirked and you rolled your eyes, clenching around him. His eyes widened and he let out a loud moan, squeezing your waist hard. You lifted yourself up and sunk all the way down, his balls pressing up against your ass.

He grunted and you breathed shakily, you were overwhelmed by how full you were, and feeling Lo’ak’s pleasure too just heightened it even more. “You’re…you’re incredible” he said, chuckling.

You kissed him softly, slowly beginning to make out. You lifted yourself up and sunk back down, making him break the kiss. He pressed his forehead to yours, grunting softly. “Feel so full…full of you” you whimpered, placing a hand on his upper chest.

He kissed you quickly, you then started to go faster and none of you could hold back your moans. He cupped your cheek and caressed it softly, trailing his hand down to your clit and rubbing it softly. You gasped, a shaky moan coming out.

You didn’t think he’d know where it was, you’d heard other women in the clan talk about their mating stories and assumed you’d have to teach him basically everything. “Ahh! Lo’ak, oh god!” You moaned and he chuckled.

“How’s that feel?” He asked just to hear you say he was making you feel good and you moaned his name again. He grabbed your ass with his other hand, squeezing it softly. You couldn’t help your moans and groans of pleasure, bouncing feverishly on his cock. He grunted out your name, his cock throbbing as your tight pussy squeezed his dick perfectly.

He wrapped his arms around you, thrusting up into you and making you practically scream out of pleasure, the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter and tighter. You pussy was clenching hard as you tried to hold back, not wanting this to end.

“Fuck…” Lo’ak whispered, grunting as his balls begin to tighten up and his dick twitched. He moaned softly and said “shit- you feel so fucking good!” You smiled and went as fast as you could, tits bouncing in his face like crazy and pussy squeezing his dick so perfectly he could cum right then and there.

You groaned softly and said “uhh! Lo, I’m so close!” “Me too baby…just keep riding me j- uhh- fuck! just like that!” He said and you whimpered. He slapped your ass softly and it only made you closer to cumming.

Your breathing started to pick up and you squeezed around his dick hard as you moaned loud with not a care in the world. “Lo’ak! Oh my- ahh! Ahhh!” You moaned, your nails digging into his skin. He moaned at the pain, squeezing your ass as he felt his cock throb with the need to cum.

He grunted and said “I feel you baby! Come on, cum for me babygirl!” “Mmm! Uhhh! Lo’ak- I’m gonna cum- oh fuck! Ahh!” You moaned and finally released, squirting again and clenching so hard Lo’ak was struggling to hold back.

“Babe! Babe I’m cumming- no- no fuckfuckfuck- ughh!” He groaned, grabbing your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he came hard inside of you. He grunted as his cock throbbed and twitched like crazy, pumping cum endlessly into your tight little pussy.

“Shit!” He said and whined, it was borderline painful as both of your orgasms had yet to die down. When you were finally done, both of you were light headed and you were practically passed out, laying on his chest limply with him still inside you.

“I’m sorry…” he said softly, trying to catch his breath. You whimpered, pussy still twitching slightly as you said “for what?” “F- For finishing inside. I-I tried so hard not to I kept meaning to ask but I…well I kinda forgot” he said and you chuckled. He caressed his ribs as you said “it is okay, Lo’ak. I am not upset. You are my mate for life now, and if Eywa blesses us with a child now it is because it is right for us to start our family now. If not, that is also okay as well”

“You want kids already?” He asked, eyes widening. You chuckled, hearing his mind race and feeling his heartbeat quicken through tsaheylu as you said “I didn’t say that. I do not want to specifically start trying to have children just yet but if I happen to become with child I would trust that Eywa knows what’s good for us. I trust you, Lo’ak. I trust that everything will always be okay with you and that we will always figure it out…together”

“You’re so perfect” he said, looking at your lips. You smiled and cupped his cheek, kissing him passionately. He moaned a little at the unexpected surprise of being kissed so fast and so hard.

He quickly reacted though, kissing you back feverishly. You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the hard muscle that only strengthened day by day. He kept kissing you until eventually you started grinding against him, making him wince from overstimulation and sensitivity from the orgasm.

“Ah- babe I’m gonna need a minute” he said and you sighed. You lifted up off him slowly and laid on the soft moss next to him. He noticed you squeezing your thighs together and smirked. He bit his lip and said “just can’t get enough, can you?”

He made sweet love to you a few more times, his only goal to make you feel good. You fell asleep in his arms, watching the stars as he rubbed your back and played with the clothing pieces he put back on you. He felt so grateful that night, grateful for you.

The next morning, you two disconnected regretfully and you felt empty. You liked how you felt when you were connected to Lo’ak, it made your love for him grow even more. He brought you to a nearby river to rinse off, massaging your sore thighs and back.

Of course he smirked to himself when you were slightly shaky while walking, making you roll your eyes and shove him playfully. He found some berries and you both walked the long way back to the forest and ate some berries before the big breakfast with the clan.

When you got to the tents, everyone looked sorry and upset. You were confused until Kiri came running to you. “Y/n! Where have you been?!” Kiri said and your eyes widened, she looked like she’d been crying.

“I- I was at-” you started to say and she rolled her eyes. She grabbed your hand and said “it- i-it doesn’t matter you have to come with me” You could immediately tell by the way she was talking and how sad everyone was what was happening, or had already happened.

“No…no Kiri, don’t…she- she was- she was fine last night- I-I don’t understand” you said and she whimpered. Lo’ak felt his heart drop, this could not be. Kiri’s lip trembled as she said “I-I know…I know, b-but she doesn’t have much time”

You’d never ran so fast in your life, still holding Lo’ak’s hand because you didn’t want to be alone. You let go as you got closer to the tent and Lo’ak stopped following you. Kiri caught up and Lo’ak looked at with tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong brother? Is she…” Kiri asked and Lo’ak shook his head. He sniffled and said “I- I-I don’t know I…Eywa, I can’t go in there” “what are you talking about? She needs you right now” Kiri said and Lo’ak let out a sob.

He groaned and said “it’s my fault. She should’ve been here, with her sick mother but instead we…” “no…ugh, you skxawng! Seriously?!” She said and smacked him lightly on the back of his head. He shook his head and said “do you think if I knew this was gonna happen now I would’ve still done the same things? She wanted to go to Utral Aymokriyä to listen to her dads and her grandparents' voices and then it just…happened. We are mated before Eywa now, it is done”

Kiri scoffed and said “that is why she wasn’t with her mom on her last night? Because you needed somewhere you put your stupid dick” “no! Fuck, Kiri it wasn’t like that. I love her! I love her, Kiri. I wasn’t planning to mate with her it just happened, okay? And I feel like the worst mate ever now because of it” he said and took a shaky breath.

Mo’at came out of the tent and said “Lo’ak! Get in here, now!” He wiped his tears away and Kiri shoved him closer making him groan. He slowly entered the tent and his heart broke as he watched you sob, holding your mothers hand as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

You were mumbling prayers through your sobs, not ready to let her go yet. He instantly began to cry harder, bending down to your level. “Oel ngati kameie” he said softly as he pulled up the thin blanket covering your mother’s body.

“Oel ngati kameie” she whispered, reaching for him. He quickly reached and grabbed her hand, caressing it softly and kissing it. “I want you to take care of her, okay? And I want you to be her mate. Please? I only trust you to take care of my daughter” she said and he nodded.

“H-He is, sa’nok. We ar- a-are mated before E-Eywa” you said, sniffling. Her eyes widened slightly as she smiled. She looked between you two and said “What? When?”

“Last night,” you said bashfully, taking a deep breath. She squeezed your hands slightly and said “oh, you have no idea h-how happy that makes me” Lo’ak smiled a little, brushing her braids out of her face.

Mäti groaned, pain surging through her body. She closed her eyes for a moment, making you scream as you feared you just lost her for good. She whimpered and said “I’m still here, maite. I will always be with you, you know that”

Her voice was weak and hoarse now and she was struggling more to talk. You shook your head and said “no, no I- I can’t live without you” “it is okay…i-it is okay, syulang” Mäti said, trying to calm you down.

She grunted, struggling to breathe. “I see you, sweet child” she whispered, wheezing slightly. Her breaths became shorter and faster, trying her hardest to stay alive. You whined as you said “no! Ma sa’nok!”

You were so scared, you didn’t know how to live without her. Her eyes began to flutter, you all knew this was it. “Mommy…” you whimpered, shaking your head as you begged the Great Mother to bless her with health and life again.

“Y/n…nga yawne lu oer” she said before she stopped breathing, her eyes dilating and her hands falling limply as her head lolled to the side. You gasped, your whole body shaking as you realized what just happened.

You shook your head, more sobs racking your body. “Ma sa’nok! No! No Great Mother- No! Wake up, please!” You screamed, shaking her body trying to get her to wake up.

“Y/n….” Lo’ak said and placed a hand on your back. You shoved him off and cupped your mothers face in your hands, trying to find life in her eyes again. You shook your head and screamed in agony, wailing as you felt the pain of the loss of your mother in your chest.

Lo’ak began to sob as well, he was so angry at himself, and heartbroken at the loss of what felt like a second mom. You pressed your forehead to hers, whimpering and crying harder than you ever have before.

“I’m so sorry, y/n” he said and you ignored him. You grabbed your mothers hand and said “wake up, mom. Mom…mom please! Mommy, wake up!” You cried and cried, unable to even think about calming down. Losing your dad and barely having any memories of him is hard on you, but now having had your mother take care of you, love you your entire life and for her to just suddenly no longer be here for the rest of your life is even harder.

He tried to touch you again and you shoved him, standing up. You shook your head and said “go away!” “W-What…” he said and you groaned. He stood up as well as you said “get away from me!”

He tried to touch again and you yelled out at him, shoving him so hard he nearly fell back. He shook his head and said “y/n-” “no, this is your fault! Your fault! I should’ve been here. M-My mother…oh Eywa, my mother i-is gone and I wasn’t with her on her last night alive. Ever since you came into the picture I’ve spent too much time with you. She needed me!” You said and scoffed.

His chin trembled as you bent down to your mothers lifeless body, sobbing as you pushed her eyelids down. He whimpered as he left the tent, punching the shit out of the nearest tree. Mo’at went in and tried to comfort you but it didn’t work for her either.

Kiri ran to Lo’ak and said “hey! What happened?” “Sh- fuck- s-she’s gone. M-Mäti is gone. A-And y/n is mad at me. Sh- S-She probably regrets what we did last night and I-I don’t blame her. She told me to go away b-because she’s upset that she was w-with me instead of being with Mäti on her final night a-and that because of me she’s been spending less time w- with her and too much with me. The worst part is, she’s f-fucking right!” Lo’ak yelled and sobbed, wiping his tears away.

Kiri shook her head and said “no sh- she didn’t…she’s just upset Lo’ak” Kiri was crying as well, Mäti also took care of her a lot when she was younger, you and her even considered yourself sisters because of how big of an impact you had on each others lives.

“No…no I’m the reason she wasn’t there. She will never get that time back. B-Because of me! And now she’s stuck with me forever!” He said and groaned, punching the tree again. Kiri stopped him, he already had some splinters so instead of letting him get an infection like Mäti that would kill him she brought him to her tent and began to take care of him.

Mo’at came in and didn’t even have the mental energy to scold him for hurting himself. She couldn’t help but think about her mother, she died similarly and it brought up a lot of old feelings. Not to mention, Mäti literally delivered Neytiri when Eytukan was rushing back from a hunting trip far away. They were great friends. She knew what you were going through better than she would’ve liked to.

“Y/n is experiencing the worst thing she’s ever gone through in her entire life. She’s upset and her mind is so messed up she doesn’t know left from right. She’s angry and she’s heartbroken and she wants to be comforted but she does not want to let anyone in either. You are her mate, Lo’ak. You’re going to have to learn these things about her and you’re going to have to learn how to take care of her when she’s in this state. She still loves you very much, I’m sure of it” Mo’at said to him and finished wrapping his hand in a leaf that’s healing properties would heal his hand in about 3-4 eclipses.

He nodded, tears still rolling down his face. “Now, go. She was asking for you” Mo’at said and practically pushed him all the way out. He slowly made his way back to the healing tent your mother had been living in for months.

You were still crying, not sobbing as much but you were still whimpering and hiccuping every now then. You looked over at him and stood up, gently putting your moms hand down on the mat. You walked over to him and your chin trembled as you looked up at him.

“I see you” he whispered, even if you were still mad at him he didn’t care. He saw you, he saw your pain, he saw how weak and vulnerable you were right now and he was ready to heal your emotional wounds no matter how hard it would be.

You sniffled and said “I see you, Lo’ak. I’m s-sorry about what I said earlier. It isn’t your fault. N-Not at all, you were…I actually liked having you there. I trusted you, and you showed me love and support and care when I really needed it. I could never regret the time we’ve spent together, and I surely can’t regret last night. Even if this is the worst day of my life, last night was the best. Because of you”

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ll always love you. And I’ll never be mad at you, I couldn’t possibly. You’re grieving, and you’re going through something unimaginably painful. Of course you're gonna have reactions you don’t mean to have. I'm here to take every harsh word, every shove, every cry, and also every smile, every laugh, and every hug with nothing but love and a smile. I only want to make you happy again” Lo’ak said, caressing your cheeks.

You nodded and whispered a shaky “thank you” He kissed your head and wiped your tears from under your puffy eyes, wrapping his arms tight around you. You cried softly into his chest, holding him tight. “Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m here, I’m here my love” he said, noticing how you seemed to be desperately holding onto him like he was going to leave or something.

You whimpered and said “I just…oh Eywa I’m scared somethings gonna h-happen to you” “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’m here with you, forever” he said and kissed your head a few times, rubbing your back.

Kiri came in and her heart broke as she saw Mäti lay there lifeless, not receiving the usual smile and seeing her lift her arms weakly to hug her. You looked up and Kiri sniffled, looking over at you. “I’m so sorry, y/n” she said and you bit your lip.

You hugged her and said “she really loved you, tsumke” “she loved you even more. Talked about you like you hung the moon and stars yourself” Kiri said and you both giggled. Lo’ak walked over and gently grabbed Mäti’s hand.

“I’m gonna take care of her. I promise. I’m gonna make her the happiest girl in the clan. Thank you for creating such a wonderful young woman that I now get to cherish for the rest of my life. I don’t deserve it, really. Rest in peace, Mäti” he said and caressed her hand, wiping away his tears.

1 year later

“Good morning, honey” he said softly, brushing your braids out of your face. You took a deep breath and mumbled “hi, baby” and stretched adorably, clinging to him after. He chuckled and kissed your head.

“I brought breakfast,” he said. It was some fish and some berries and a juiced fruit in a bowl. You smiled and kissed his cheeks, making him laugh. You heard Lawnol fussing a little and sighed, sitting up.

Lawnoltsim, or Lawnol as you called her, was your 3 month old baby girl. It’s not uncommon for a female to become pregnant the night she mates, and that is what happened to you. You realized your symptoms a few weeks after the loss of your mother and when Mo’at confirmed it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

You were excited to be a mother, and when Mo’at suspected it was a girl it only excited you more. Lo’ak was worried initially, he felt terrible for getting you pregnant and for putting through this at such a stressful time in your life. He was surprised to see how happy the pregnancy made you, even with all the pain you couldn’t help the joy you felt when you thought about your daughter or felt her kick.

He wanted to name her Lawnoltsim because it meant “a great source of joy”, and that’s what she was. She brought so much happiness during the hardest time of your life. She was nothing short of perfection to you.

You scooped her up out of the sleeping basket Neytiri weaved together for you a few weeks before your daughter was born and held her to your chest, kissing her head and caressing her little back. She cooed and Lo’ak smiled, he always fell in love with you more and more watching you be a mother to the daughter you made together.

“Hi, baby…oh you’re so beautiful,” you said and kissed her nose. She smiled up at you and played with your braids, babbling something. He wrapped his arms around your waist and said “my princesses. So gorgeous”

You giggled and kissed her cheek a few times, fixing her hair so it wasn’t so messy. You spent the morning with the two of them like you have every day since Lawnol was born, playing with her and singing to her and then breastfeeding her for a bit before having your breakfast.

He was worried about today, it was the 1 year anniversary of your mothers death.

Neytiri asked to spend the day with her grandbaby which you gladly agreed to, her and Jake had been really good about watching her when you and Lo’ak needed and never passed up an opportunity to spend time with their first granddaughter.

You went off to go hunting for a bit with some other warriors and Lo’ak began to worry more. You hadn’t acknowledged it all. He couldn’t help but think about how heartbroken you were that morning, how hard it was for you to leave the tent and bury her.

When you got back, you checked on Lawnol and then helped Mo’at make lunch. Lo’ak kept an eye on you, always lingering around. Of course he spent time with you throughout the day regularly as he was your mate and he was literally obsessed with you. But you knew why he was especially lingering today.

You knew well what day it was. You did take some time already to yourself to walk through the forest and process your thoughts, cried a little bit just thinking about everything. You didn’t want to turn today into a day of sadness. You just wanted to think about all the happy memories with your mother. All the good times, how happy she made you, what an amazing mother she was. You hoped to be that for Lawnol.

“Hey, honey” you said as you came into the tent, it was nearing eclipse. He was re-stringing his bow but had just finished when you came in. He smiled at you and said “hi…how are you?” You kissed him softly and said “I’m good”

He took a deep breath, you knew he didn’t believe you. You sat down in front of him and said “I know you don’t believe me. But I promise I am. I know today is one year since I lost my mother and I should be really sad about that but I am not. I…I do not want to be sad. I just simply want to celebrate the happy times I had with her, and what an amazing mother she was and how she impacted the clan and everyone else’s lives. I miss her greatly, but moping around and crying about it isn’t going to bring her back”

“I’m just worried for you. It was hard watching you go through that” he said, caressing your cheek. You smiled and he sighed softly, admiring your features. He couldn’t help himself sometimes. You grabbed his hand and said “I do appreciate it, you know. I was just about to go to the tree of voices to hear her voice. Do you want to come with me?”

You hadn’t gone yesterday because it was your birthday and you didn’t want to be sad. You wanted to wait until today instead. He nodded and stood up, following you. You walked quietly, tail swishing gently as you held Lo’ak’s hand.

You walked up to the tree, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You took a deep breath and connected your kuru to the tree, gasping slightly as you heard your mothers voice. Lo’ak hugged you from behind gently, bring his own kuru to the tree and listening to his ancestors voices.

You felt a tear slip down your face and you sighed. You whimpered slightly and Lo’ak disconnected from the tree, kissing your head and moving his arm up to sip the tears away. He caressed your waist as he said “it’s okay, baby. Just cry it out if you need to”

“I miss her, Lo…” you whispered. He rested his chin ontop of your head and said “I know, syulang. I miss her too” “she loved you so much. You have no idea, Lo’ak. She was so obsessed, she was always asking about you. She knew you were it for me. My mate” you said and smiled.

He chuckled and said “I know. Everytime she could get me alone she swore that it was the perfect time to mate before Eywa forever. And she…” He stopped because he began to tear up and his throat felt tight.

“What?” You asked, disconnecting from the tree and turning around to look at him. He cleared his throat and said “s-she trusted me to- t-to take care of you. Do you remember? W-When I came to the tent s-she made me promise…p-promise that I would take care of you, a-and she said she only trusted me to be y-your mate”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” you said and cupped his cheeks. He cried softly as he looked at you, wondering if he really had been fulfilling Mäti’s final wishes like he tried to. As if you could hear his thoughts, you said “you have. You have done an amazing job at protecting me, loving me, caring for me, and you’ve done the same for our daughter”

“I try…” he joked, sighing softly. You smiled and said “I see you, my mate” “I see you” he whispered back, pressing his forehead to yours. You both took a deep breath, embracing each other and falling even more in love with each other with every second that passes.

Taglist: @laylasbunbunny @goddesslilithmoriarty

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Joseph Quinn

Jamie Bower

Steve Harrington

Robin Buckley

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[circus-complex]

Pink Petals and Honey Brown Eyes

Rating: Teen+

Relationship: Feng Xin/Mu Qing

Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hanahaki Disease, Bad Ending, Drunken Confessions, Mutual Pining

General Nan Yang, Feng Xin, had been afflicted with a strange disease since he was ten. It started with simply coughing up a petal or two. [...] Mu Qing had known he loved Feng Xin from the moment he laid eyes upon him. His honey brown eyes and bright smile had captured Mu Qing’s heart.

Feng Xin and Mu Qing are both afflicted with Hanahaki disease. But they don't confess until it's too late

Also on AO3

Full work under the cut

General Nan Yang, Feng Xin, had been afflicted with a strange disease since he was ten.

It started with simply coughing up a petal or two. At first, Feng Xin thought he’d just fallen in the flower bed without noticing.

But it continued. He didn’t dare tell a soul, lest they laugh at him.

And then the war came, and it went away. He was too busy worrying if they would survive till tomorrow to think about anything else.

Mu Qing left, and it returned. Constant worry about how Mu Qing was doing didn’t help, only spurring the flowers on.

He ascended shortly after, and all his mortal afflictions disappeared. And yet, the flowers bloomed year after year.

It wasn’t until Pei Ming caught him choking on the vines that he found out what it was.

Hanahaki Disease (花吐病 Huā tǔ bìng): In which the victim has flowers growing in their body when they suffer from repressed feelings or unrequited love.

✦✦✦

Mu Qing had known he loved Feng Xin from the moment he laid eyes upon him. His honey brown eyes and bright smile had captured Mu Qing’s heart.

But his cruel tongue and short temper shattered any hope Mu Qing had.

Mu Qing could feel the flowers invading with each passing year. Their leaves wound around his bones, their sap melting into his veins. But he pushed each twinge in his heart down. He did not care if his whole body turned to wood and leaves burst from his arms. Perhaps he would look nicer, he could stand in a garden and bring someone a pleasant joy.

Years passed, and breathing came harder and harder. But Mu Qing was a god, and gods cannot die.

But what if your heart shatters to pieces? Can you truly live on any longer if you are only a shell of yourself, if your soul is split?

✦✦✦

The Mid Autumn festival, where the moon shines onto the heavens and wine is passed around.

Feng Xin drank generously. He always did – he held no secrets. He loved Mu Qing, but he couldn’t even admit that to himself.

Mu Qing, surprisingly, was drinking as well. He was on his fifth cup, and his expression said that was just the beginning.

“Hey, General, slow down,” Feng Xin shot at Mu Qing. His liquid gold eyes shone, even in the depths of night.

“No thank you,” Mu Qing took another sip.

Feng Xin shrugged, “Suit yourself.”

Mu Qing felt a thorn peirce his leg as Feng Xin walked away. Shit. It was over tonight, wasn’t it?

God, Feng Xin would never love him, would he? He would always drift in and out of Mu Qing’s life, but never stay.

Mu Qing swayed. His vision was going dark. The only thing he heard before he fell to the ground was a faint call of his name.

✦✦✦

“Mu Qing! Mu Qing!” Feng Xin held his body in his arms, “Mu Qing, are you ok?”

Mu Qing coughed, and-

Oh.

Pink flower petals fell from his mouth.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing croaked, “Feng Xin, I love you.”

Oh.

“Mu Qing, I-”

“No, I know you don’t feel the same way. I- I’m going to die, please take over my territory, ok? And don’t tell His Highness, if he ever comes back. Please.”

“Mu Qing, Mu Qing, I love you.” Feng Xin was close to crying. A small crowd had formed, gods Mu Qing would hate knowing that.

“Don’t lie, A-Xin. It’s not good to lie to a dying man.”

“Mu Qing, I’m not lying, I swear, please, believe me. Don’t die, please, please, Qing’er, don’t leave,” Feng Xin sobbed. He was crying now, open, ugly, sobs escaping from his flower-filled throat.

But it was too late.

Flowers bloomed from Mu Qing’s black diamond eyes, thorns pierced his lungs. But no matter how many kisses Feng Xin pressed to his lips he could only taste the sickly sweet pollen. Tears — no, sap — leaked from Mu Qing’s eyes as they grew dim.

Vines took place of his once perfect hair, intertwined with the dull black strands. Even in death, Mu Qing was a beauty rivaled by none. From his throat burst pink flowers, ones Feng Xin would have plucked and given as a gift if only he had known. If only.

It was too late now. Feng Xin could feel leaves crawling in his stomach. Feelings that he thought were unrequited, that he found were returned, but you cannot love someone in death. And if Mu Qing would die because of him, it was only right he did the same. Perhaps they would find each other in their next lives, give each other flowers that didn’t bloom from their own bodies.

[dearausten]

things i noticed while rereading the tenant of wildfell hall (aka my favorite brontë novel) for the third time

- the bromance between gilbert and jack halford (the person he’s writing to, aka his sister’s husband). if i didn’t love gilbert with helen so much, i’d actually go down with this ship.

- i’m DYING to know everything about halford and rose’s relationship, they seem really cute!

- gilbert’s brother, fergus, is actually hilarious. i have never seen someone so dramatic. he’s like “yeah you have to work the land but i gotta look pretty and gossip and that’s actually harder”. also my boy cannot read social cues for the life of him.

- everything from the beginning until we reach helen’s diary. the ANGST. the way he falls in love with her. the way anne brontë gives him a personality and shows us why he is perfect for helen. ALSO THE WAY HE BONDS WITH LITTLE ARTHUR IS ADORABLE.

- just everything about helen. i love her character SO MUCH. she’s so smart, witty, and outspoken. she’s one of the best written female characters ever, no joke.

- the way anne brontë is giving us clues from the beginning! when helen’s aunt gives her advice on marriage, she is unknowingly listing every mistake helen makes in marrying arthur. (not saying what happened is her fault tho!). my girl helen is like “i’d never marry a man without principles just bc i’m horny” and that is exactly what she does! jokes aside, she really did love a arthur, for some reason.

- i had completely forgotten that she was only 18! and arthur huntingdon is said to be 10+ years older than her??????? i completely missed that detail.

- arthur’s manipulation begins even before they get married. the way he knows he’s hurting her when he flirts with annabella and he does exactly that, the way he loves to humiliate her and never thinks of her, only himself... ugh.

- when they do get married, he has the audacity to say that she’s too religious, so she mustn’t love him as much as she says, bc she’s given her heart to the lord. he then proceeds to make the (terrible) point that the only master of women should be their husbands, not god. he only thinks of helen as his possession.

- HOLY SHIT. clearly i can’t have so much time pass before i read this book again bc i had forgotten so many details.

- did i mention i hate arthur’s ass?

- anne brontë does a brilliant job writing the demise of their relationship. it doesn’t happen abruptly. like yes, he was an asshole from day one, but helen didn’t start hating him until the third year of their marriage (still a short time, tho). you can see how much she struggles with loving him while also being awfully aware of his moral flaws, how hard she tries to help him with his drinking problem, how she’s always there for him even though he doesn’t deserve it because he lashes out on her every time he’s upset. a lot happens before she decides she’s had enough of him, and i just love that we see her slowly realize what she’s gotten herself into.

- arthur trying to manipulate her USING THEIR SON is so disgusting. he tries to make her feel bad for spending so much time with their newborn (who he is totally neglecting btw) instead of him.

- i hate you arthur huntingdon. i hate you mr. hargrave. i hate you grimsby. i hate you annabella. i don’t exactly like hattersley but he kinda gets better so he’s forgiven.

- POOR HELEN. she literally thought arthur was finally putting effort into their marriage. every time i read the scene where she finds out about the infidelity i want to cry for her so bad.

- honestly, it’s so badass of her to confront him like that. it took everything in her to control herself and not commit double murder.

- UGH. WHEN ANNABELLA IS TAUNTING HELEN, AND SHE SNAPS ANNABELLA’S MUG BC SHE GOT UNDER HER SKIN AND ARTHUR JUST LAUGHS. istg it makes my blood boil.

- again, POOR HELEN. her finding out about the infidelity was the last straw. arthur stopped pretending to give a damn about her and straight up began to treat her like a piece of crap. i know, he always has, but now he knows how much pain he causes her AND HE PURPOSELY CAUSES HER MORE PAIN. he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

- he knows how to hit where it hurts, doesn’t he?

- hargrave is so annoying, but i love how, this way, anne brontë emphasizes why gilbert is a much better match for helen than him. hargrave wants to have her, to dominate her. this goes to say that helen wouldn’t be better off marrying just any other man, but someone who actually takes the time to know her and loves her as an equal, like gilbert.

- ar*ur trying to turn his son against helen is so infuriating. he knows he’s taken everything from her. he knows all she has is her son. he knows how much she loves him, and he wants to take that away too.

- UGH. him and all his friends literally make little arthur, a child, drink as much wine as them. not only that, but ALL OF THEM insult helen in front of him and laugh when he says something that upsets his mother.

- i. cannot. arthur has been neglecting his son since he was born, and only takes an interest on him to teach him how to insult helen and behave like he does, because he knows it drives helen insane.

- thankfully helen is smarter than that son of a bitch and tricks her son into hating wine.

- UGH. AGAIN. when arthur discovers helen’s plan to run away, he doesn’t scream. he doesn’t yell. he MOCKS her. he just stands there with a smile on his face while he takes away her keys AND HE GETS HER PAINTING MATERIALS DESTROYED. OH. MY. GOD.

- once again, arthur knows how to struck a nerve. not only does he completely take away helen’s role as arthur’s educator (something she’s highly invested in) by hiring a governess. HE HIRES HIS FUCKING MISTRESS. i am done. and so is helen.

- SHE’S FREE. i have read this book three times now and i still cannot help to relieve the tension built inside of me when she escapes, as if i didn’t already know what happens.

- a big element to helen’s character is how seriously she takes being a mother. all she does, she does for arthur (her son). she would have stayed with that bastard, and she would’ve willingly suffer the abuse if it weren’t for her son, because he deserves better. no matter what costs her, her son mustn’t grow up like his father. she’d rather her son die by her side, than have him live with huntingdon.

- my poor baby she’s in so much pain :((

- SO. MUCH. ANGST. ANNE BRONTË WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT.

- gilbert making amends with lawrence, as he ought to. we love a man who knows when he’s wrong, and wants to make it better. i think this is the main difference between him and arthur. gilbert, in spite of all his flaws, takes responsibility for his actions, unlike helen’s husband (i can’t even name him). also, he is the only man in the novel who loves helen because HE KNOWS HER, and not bc he wants her to be his possession. he just wants to be with her, and make her happy.

- and the angst goes on and on and on!

- helen tells gilbert he can write to her after six months. he doesn’t. because he figures she’s forgotten about him, and he doesn’t blame her! he is hurt. devastated, really. but he understands. he wants her to heal, first and foremost, after he knows how much she’s suffered.

- i love that the last straw for him is hearing that she’s supposedly getting married. and to hargrave, no less. ngl i would try to keep her away from him too.

- oh, sweet misunderstanding! so happy for lawrence tho.

- WHEN THEY FINALLY GET TOGETHER OMG.

- gilbert is a dumbass lmaoooo, SHE’S TELLING YOU SHES IN LOVE WITH YOU YOU IDIOT.

- THEY KISS! GOD BLESS!

- the ending is easy to savor bc of how sad the rest of the book is. like it’s the ONLY moment we see the characters happy.

- I LOVE THEM YOUR HONOR.

- i LOVE that she had time to heal before marrying again. it’s just so satisfying.

to sum it up, the tenant of wildfell hall is still my fave brontë book. for me, the thing that makes it so special are the characters, especially helen. god, how i felt her pain. she is so strong and i love her so much.

guys, this book is SO IMPORTANT. it was back in the day, and still is now. it truly shows just how vulnerable women were in a marriage, and how they were completely stripped of their freedom and liberty. imagine your life depending absolutely on someone else’s whims! i will leave the rant for another post since this one is long enough. feel free to share what you loved about this book as well! <3

[phoenixkaptain]

And another one (Marth and Tiki drabble), also on Ao3

“Mar-Mar,” Tiki mumbled.

“Tiki,” he replied, smiling. “It’s wonderful to see you, again.”

Tiki nodded. She sat on the edge of his bed, careful not to press too close to him. Humans were always so fragile, but they were even more fragile when they were close to dying.

Marth was thin and gaunt. His hair was thin. His eyesight had gotten poor. He looked a single light breeze away from scattering into the wind like dandelion fluff. Tiki had never seen him so weak before.

He reached out his hand and she took it. She still looked the same, no matter how much time passed, and it was obvious in their hands. Hers were still so small and soft. His were small and bony and frail. Tiki cradled the hand offered to her in her hands like a bird. Marth chuckled.

“I’m not going to break,” he told her, his voice so soft.

“I don’t want to risk it,” she replied.

Marth ran a shaky thumb over her fingers. His hands were smaller than they once were, but still bigger than her own.

“Aren’t you scared?” Tiki mumbled.

“No,” he replied. “Not at all.”

She frowned, but he just laughed.

“I’m going to die,” he admitted casually. “This has always been my fate. To do so while laying in bed, after years of peace, sets my mind at ease. I will not be dying to an arrow or a lance. I find it to be a nice change of pace. The only threat to my life is my own mortality. I am more than pleased to be able to die peacefully.”

“I don’t want you to die,” Tiki sniffled. “I’ve dreaded this day for years, Mar-Mar. What will I do if you aren’t with me?”

“You’re strong,” Marth said. “You can do whatever you like. You don’t need me to be there.”

“But I want you to be there,” she stated.

Her tears fell on the back of his hand. She sniffed and tried to blink the tears away, but they came no matter what she did.

“Oh, Tiki,” he sighed, as fond as he had always been. “I cannot live forever. Nor do I wish to live forever.”

She nodded. He’d always been open about his own mortality. No matter that Tiki viewed him as godlike and similar to Naga herself, Marth was still a mortal and seemed to even enjoy being one.

“But,” he continued, smiling, “if given the chance to spend a thousand years more at your side, I would take it. I don’t want you to cry for me, Tiki.”

“I can’t help it,” she insisted. “I’m going to miss you.”

He cupped her face with a hand. The touch was light and gentle. His touch had always been so. Even knowing that she was a manakete and not so easily injured, he still touched her gently, as though cautious of hurting her.

“I will miss you too,” he said simply. “You are my dear friend, Tiki. Can you take some peace knowing that being able to see you, in my final days, has brought me great joy? I wondered if you would sleep through my passing altogether.”

“I almost did,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

His smile was still as bright as the sun, warming her even as his own hand remained colder in her palms.

“I miss those who passed before me,” Marth said quietly. “I’m going to see them again, after many years apart.”

“You won’t get lonely without me?” Tiki asked.

“I will miss you, Tiki,” he sighed. “And I will look forward to you joining us. I will want to hear all about the life you lead. I even look forward to hearing the boring parts.”

“Yes,” Tiki agreed. “I’ll live the most boringest life imaginable and tell you all about it!”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Marth admitted. “Than your having an uneventful life. I hope that you will make more friends-“

“I’ll make friends with everyone!” she promised.

“-and that you will not have to suffer through more war and turmoil,” he concluded.

“My life will be as boring as your books,” she swore.

He laughed, light and airy and pleased. She pressed her face into his hand and couldn’t help but laugh along.

“Take your time,” he ordered. “Live your life. I wish you more happiness than you can stand.”

Tiki’s tears refused to stop, even as she promised to listen to him. When he passed, only a week or so later, Tiki cried until there were no tears left, then cried a bit more. There was a pain in her chest, reminiscent of her heart being torn out. Already, only days after he was gone, she missed him more than she could stand.

[foolishaetherguardian]

"So this is it huh?" If I wasn't in so much pain I would have laughed at the irony. "Killed by one of the heroes. It's not a bad way to go." This time I did laugh, before doubling over in pain. The sword in my chest prevented me from collapsing though.

"Are you happy?" The only one who stayed to watch my death was a huntress, the hero's guide to my remote cottage.

"Happy? No... I'm satisfied. It's a good ending..." My vision was starting to blur, blood loss finally catching up to my healing. "They got away after all."

The hero's companion turned, towards me or away I couldn't tell anymore. "I suppose they did." She twisted the blade free from my chest, I didn't feel it anymore. "Out of respect for your courage I won't tell the others. You died more than a puppeteer after all."

Red slipped into my vision. It hurt, everything hurt again. The numbness of dying replaced by the pain of death. I let it take me, a familiar old friend. "A mistake." I muttered in the feverish grasp of death. I didn't hear the response. When I woke in the other side I was alone. The bright oppressive grey of the Shade's Wood surrounded me. Familiar but unsettling all the same. I stood slowly before checking myself. The dark grey of my cloak was no longer stained black with blood and it hung loose over my gaunt frame, I suppose this was my soul's truest form. I turned from the sound of water. I didn't want to cross the river yet and I knew how to avoid the siren's call of the boatmen. So I wandered. Occasionally I would meet other spirits, so I offered them a shoulder to cry on. Dying hurts after all. Sometimes I will admit I broke the rules, just as I had in life.

A child drowned in a flash flood, I guided him to the cliffs that marked the barrier between life and death. I offered him the choice of climbing to live again or accepting his death. The boy climbed. I almost wished I could use my magic to float him to the top, like I had for so many before him, but a spirit cannot wield the life of the universe without a token. He reached the top. I never saw him again, the next time he died the river took him before we could meet.

I don't know how long passed like that, wandering these woods I saved a few. Far fewer than in life. But I did offer those I didn't save the comfort of a friendly guide. I was beginning to debate if the river had finally overcome me when the earth beneath me creaked and groaned. Then roots, vibrant browns and red erupted around me. The flash of color surprised me. Then I was flying, hurled upwards by the impact. I suppose that I must have struck the sky of the Wood, because when I opened my eyes the world was colorful again. Well if I ignored the grey white skull smiling down at me.

Which I did for a moment as breath shuddered into my lungs. I felt them burn and scream. I felt my body creak and shift as it's master returned to it. Then I looked at the bones, familiar for some reason. Then the simple uniform and a name tag, embroidered by hand, came into view. "Kiros." I read the name out loud.

"Yes my lord." He was as monotone as I remembered. "Welcome home." He offered me a hand as I sat upright. I waved it off. I wasn't ready to stand. At least not yet.

"Why? I told you to leave." The familiar wood and stone of my ancient home was both comforting and alarming. "I did leave. But given time I returned. We all returned." Kiros gestured to the dining room. Seated around our table were eight living dead. Two embalmed, two who rotted before I could find their souls, one more skeleton who's spirit had slipped back on their own, and three who were indistinguishable from the living, brought back before any decay or death could seize them. That was one too many. I only had raised eight to serve me.

"Told you he wouldn't cross." Insa, the embalmed, nudged her brother, Tyre.

"I suppose you were right." Tyre sighed. "I wanted to try out the new magic."

"You two, at least pretend to have some respect." The skeleton, Lira, berated them.

Lemna and Lemnos, the rotted twins, shared a look before placing their hands over the trio's mouths. "Be silent for now."

The two living I recognized smiled and stood before kneeling, steel armor gleaming in soft light of the cottage. "We, Myridon and Orcus, greet our lord. Our blades are yours again."

The final living stood slowly. "I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Artesia." The name was unfamiliar and it was not woven into her dress or smithed into the simple silver locket she wore. "You saved my ancestor some time ago. When he went looking for answers he found this place."

Kiros helped me stand before taking his place at the head of the table. "Artesia is here representing the people of this land. Those who live under your protection."

"My protection? I've been dead for decades at least." I looked around the cottage. It was the same as it was when I was alive. Every beam, slip of fabric, or iron nail sustained by magic, woven and rewoven into the very fabric of reality dozens of times. To many for a few decades. "No... It wasn't decades was it?"

"No my lord." Kiros nodded in affirmation. "It was closer to a millennia we waited for you."

"I suppose I have a lot of catching up to do."

You, a necromancer, were always fond of your skeleton minions. Even going as far as to make each one a personalized name tag. Then you were cut down by those blasted heroes, only to one day reopen your eyes and see an Elder Lich looming over you with a very faded name tag.

[idy-ll-ique]

They Always Do.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Warnings: insecurity

Requested: Nope

Summary: "you're not worried? he seems to be spending a lot of time with her..." "no" "why not?" "because i braced myself for this months ago. they leave, they always do. it's nothing new"

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! The first part of this fic is fluff, angst in the middle, fluff again at the end. Nothing too extreme, just a little one-shot. Enjoy!

---

"Sebastian, Y/N, so glad you made it!" Susan Downey smiled warmly at the couple. "Of course, we couldn't miss the 56th birthday of the one and only Iron Man," Sebastian chuckled, walking into the house with his girlfriend. He put his arm around Y/N, observing the place. "Guys! Hello!" they heard.

"Mr Downey," Y/N greeted politely, turning to smile at the birthday boy. "You must be the girlfriend," he grinned, pulling her into a bear hug. "Yep, that's me." Then he turned to Sebastian, frowning. "Why didn't you introduce her to everyone sooner?" Y/N laughed as Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging.

"Don't ask me, she was the one too chicken to meet you!" Sebastian defended himself, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend. She snorted as Robert let go of her, returning to Sebastian's side. "I guess that's on me," she sighed dramatically, making both men laugh. "Well, enjoy yourselves! Have a drink, have fun!"

With that, he walked away. Sebastian noticed a server holding up a tray of drinks and called him over. He handed a glass to Y/N and took one for himself, taking a sip. "Thanks for bringing me over, honey," Y/N smiled and he turned to her, scoffing. "You're my girlfriend! God knows they were dying to meet you," he laughed, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

With that they went around the place, talking to new people, old friends and making new acquaintances. Y/N had a lot of fun meeting Sebastian's co-stars, and especially loved Elizabeth Olsen. Y/N was a huge Marvel fan and one of her favorite works of the MCU was WandaVision. Y/N had fangirled a bit, not gonna lie.

Like that passed an hour. After her feet started hurting, Sebastian decided it was time for the woman to sit down, have a drink and chill out. "Okay doll, here's a glass of champagne, if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I'm going there, with Chris and Anthony. I love you." She smiled when he gave her a quick kiss.

"I love you too, and don't worry, I'll find you easy. This place isn't that big."

"I heard that!"

Laughing at her antics, Sebastian gave his girlfriend one more loving kiss before prancing out of the room in search of his best friends, Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie. Y/N relaxed on the comfortable couch with a sigh, sipping on her drink. It all began a year ago, very cheesily, might I add.

Y/N was at her favourite coffee shop when he had walked in. Immediately, fans had him surrounded, but she didn't go over to him. She stayed seated, looking at him, wishing she could go over but she knew how stressful fan interactions were for celebrities. Sebastian had, unfortunately, caught her eye and she had turned beet red, burying her face in her laptop.

He had found her absolutely winsome and after the crowd around him had dissipated, he had wandered over to her table and introduced himself. She was flustered around him, which made him tingly inside. And he had blurted out, "Wanna meet here next Saturday at 7?" They kept their promise and that's how they started dating.

A year ago.

That was a healthy amount of time.

Right?

Y/N couldn't help but have her doubts. All her previous relationships were pathetic failures, where the guy usually got bored of her within 3 months. But now, she had braced herself for rejection (which she knew deep down wasn't coming but it pays to be careful). "Hey."

Startled, she turned to see a kinda young, kinda drunk woman sitting next to her, looking up at her with doe eyes. "Hi," Y/N smiled back politely. "You're— you're the woman!" She had started slurring her words, which made Y/N frown a bit. "I'm… what?" she blinked. "The girl! Who came over with Sebastian Stan, you're his girlfriend!" The woman laughed loudly.

A few heads turned towards them but quickly looked away when they realized that the girl was drunk. "Yep, that's me. Why?" Y/N was now amused. As they talked, she didn't notice Sebastian walking into the room. He had come back to ask Y/N something but had paused in his tracks when he saw her frowning at the young, drunk woman.

Then he inched closer, unabashedly eavesdropping on her conversation. "Yep, saw him spending a lot of time with Ms Lizzie Olsen. If he was mine, girl, I would take that man home and show him who truly belongs to him, if you know what I mean," the girl winked and a sad smile bloomed on Y/N's face. "They're good friends, of course they're gonna spend time together."

Sebastian smiled at her answer. He knew she was different, she didn't get easily jealous and he liked that, since it reduced the number of arguments they had by a lot. His jealousy? Well, that's a story for another time… "You don't mind? He seems to be spending a lot of time with her…" the drunk woman frowned at Y/N.

Well, she was drunk, she wouldn't remember this night anyway, so maybe… it would be good to get some things off her chest.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I braced myself for this months ago. They leave, they always do. It's nothing new," Y/N admitted, swirling the champagne that was swimming in her half-full glass. Sebastian's heart shattered into a million pieces at her words. Before the words were even completely out of her mouth, tears had started stinging in his eyes.

"Y/N?" Startled yet again, Y/N turned to see Sebastian smiling at her. "Seb! Hi, thought you were with your friends!" she grinned at him. "I— uh— something came up, we need to go," he spoke quietly, fidgeting with his hands. Y/N's brows furrowed but she got up, collecting her coat and her purse.

"Can we at least say Happy Birthday to Robert?"

"Yeah, yeah of course." Sebastian managed a weak smile when she gave him a kiss on the cheek, going off to find Robert and Susan. She told them something urgent came up and they allowed the couple to leave. "Seb, let's go!" He followed her out of the house, meekly trailing behind her, the words she said ringing in his ears.

They leave, they always do. It's nothing new.

How had this woman, practically a Goddess, had such bad experiences that she was forced to think that way? He was never going to leave her, having found the perfect woman at last. He got into the driver's seat of his car, and the car ride home was quiet. Y/N was getting anxious. What happened to him? Did something happen at the party?

Once they were home, Sebastian couldn't help himself. "S—" Y/N yelped when he crushed her to his body, hugging her tightly. He took both of them to their shared bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed, pulled her on his lap and buried his face in her chest, breaking down. "Seb, honey, what's wrong?" Y/N cooed, getting insanely paranoid.

The crying didn't stop for 15 minutes. Y/N, in a futile attempt to get him to stop, was running a hand through his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, holding him close. When he took in a shuddering breath, he pulled away and finally looked Y/N in her eyes. "Now are you going to tell me what happened?" she smiled gently.

He took her hand, pressing a kiss to her wrist. "I'm sorry," he croaked out and Y/N frowned. "Sorry for what?" He shook his head, burying his face back in his safe haven. Except, Y/N wasn't having any of that. She pulled him away and dropped a soft kiss to his forehead. "Tell me what happened."

He took in another shaky breath.

"I… I heard you."

"Heard me?" Y/N blinked. "Yes. You were… you were talking to that girl on the couch and she was— she was talking about how I seem to be spending a lot of time with Lizzie and you— you said you didn't mind but she kept on insisting and you said they leave. they always do. I'm not going to leave you, Y/N, I promise. You're one of the best things that has ever happened to me and I'm not letting you go."

Oh.

"Seb," Y/N whispered, her own eyes now filled to the brim with tears. "Don't cry," he chuckled with a watery voice, wiping her tears off. "It's just— all my relationships before you… the guys were assholes. They always left 2-3 months in. I— I wasn't taking any chances with you, you know… plus, you're kind of a famous guy and you can get so many better women—"

He didn't want to hear it. Better than Y/N? Impossible. He pressed his lips to her, immediately deepening the kiss when she reciprocated. "I promise you, I cannot do any better than you." Y/N smiled shyly at his words and his heart filled with happiness. "Let's go to sleep."

Both of them tired from the crying, they got undressed without trying any funny business. Y/N put on her usual pair of shorts and one of Sebastian's huge t-shirts, getting into the bed where a boxer-clad Sebastian already lay. He pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his chest, draping an arm around his taut abdomen.

"Comfy?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah. Goodnight, doll, I love you."

"I love you too, Seb. Goodnight."

"...Never gonna leave you."

"Not a chance."

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you liked it!

[tteokdoroki]

🦊mmk so, since you ask for headcanons I shall try to deliver. So ya know how a lot of guys never hold a new born until they have one? So like imagine the BNHA guys.

Bakugou while he loves his kids is nervous but once the baby is in his arms he would never let it go other than to you. I feel like he may actually spoil the baby into only sleeping while being held possibly cause there is just this tiny tiny human. Who has to rely on you and him for everything.

Kiri, while apprehensive just cause of his size is super excited as you help him properly hold the baby. "You sure I won't crush them? You sure it's ok? I love them so much!" He is cut off from his fretting when the tiny child grabs the very top of his pinky (the only finger it could attempt to hold). He too becomes very attached and spoils his babies holding them while they sleep and you have to insist he set then down for the nap so they can sleep without skin to skin contact.

Shouto I think would appear stoic at first. Of course he will hold the baby, it's his child and parents are suppose to do that. But he quickly is having feelings ™️ about if he can be a good father and give his kids a better like than he had (which we all know the man will!). He becomes quite attached particularly one the baby can hold its head up on its own and it's giggly and playful. That would be one of his favorite stages of children I think.

Midoriya is just awestruck. His his beautiful little baby who his beautiful wife brought into the world. After watching you labor all damn day he starts to think you're the real hero. He's seen many bloody scenes and injuries but nothing prepared him to see the after birth. But it was worth it for the cooing bundle in his arms and for once he will take a break from writing in the baby book (he totally spent weeks picking out just the right one) to enjoy his child.

Denki is actually really excited albeit slightly nervous. He's been dying to meet the baby and so he is so fucking eagar to meet the tiny life you two created.

Sero is on of the most low key about it with only Shinsou being similar. Worst case scenario he can tape the baby to his body just in case! Which he totally does. I feel like the tape will be very handy for child rearing.

Shinsou was fucking ready to hold the baby the moment you were ready to let him. And then, when you've nodded off he just sits on the rocker observing every little thing. Even if it's just a small move of the fingers. And when you are a little more awake you look over, careful not to disrupt the moment.

"You're gonna be strong and beautiful just like your momma. She's went through so much to bring you into the world. The best gift she's ever given me. I love you little girl." He has a soft smile the whole time and you hate to interrupt the moment but you can't help but sob at the sweet scene before you.

Just some fluffy domestic bnha guys and their babies!

— BNHA BOYS AS DADS

author’s note(s): this !!! THIS IS WHAT I NEEDED !!! also this won’t be long but in the future i wanna do more of this for each boy 🥺✨

warning(s): none except for fem!reader + bakugou, kirishima, todoroki, deku, kaminari, sero and shinsou bein dads :(

bakugou: i agree and know for a fact that as soon bakugou has his hands on your baby for the first time you’re not getting them back!! he definitely is the one to get up in the middle of the night instead of you to put baby back to bed so he can spend extra time with them. He’s super protective too, watches anyone holding his kid like mfin hawks ( pun intended ) but will show them off in a heartbeat— cos that’s his fucking kid.

kirishima: legit cries when the baby is born, he’s an emotional dude and he’s gonna be super proud of you calling you manly for a safe delivery!!!! but the tears don’t stop there, eiji’ll literally just cry whenever the baby coos at him, holds onto him with their tiny hand and falls asleep on him. he hates being apart from your baby and whines when you put them down for a nap away from him!!! so you always let kiri be the one to wake them up.

todoroki: shoto is definitely scared that he’ll turn out to be his father, so at first he’d be very cautious around your baby and make sure he does everything right. panics when the baby cries and doesn’t know how to handle it until you reassure him that you don’t know what you’re doing either :( if baby falls asleep on shoto, he’s not moving an inch. todoroki will get mad at you if make even the slightest noise while your little one sleeps on his chest. the first time he makes the baby laugh he almost cries :(

midoriya: omg yesss? izu passes out in the delivery room and you can’t tell me otherwise; he’s seen so much in all his time of being a pro hero but nothing would prepare him for childbirth?? i also feel like hed ask for a lot of help from inko— you’re both nervous new parents and having her around helps you guys a lot. deku takes a lot of notes on his kid for weeks, holding baby in one arm while he observes them and takes notes on all the little habits of yours that baby has. you guys spend a decent amount of your late nights with the baby, theorising about the quirks they’d have.

kaminari: yourself and denki get blessed with a happy baby, have you seen that man?? he’s like a walking ball of sunshine and your kid would always be happy around him!! like you said with shoto, kaminari much prefers the phase when baby can sit up on their own and starts to crawl or babble, hed chatter away for hours with the baby and make them giggle so much you would have to remind him to let the baby take a breather :((

sero: sero is probably the most prepared to be a father out of all of them?? hed read up on things, want to bottle feed to he can help you split the load, assembled the nursery and cribs and buggies all by himself :(( i feel like sero is a very hands on dad!! he loves the baby carrier, and will wear it around the house while he’s on paternity leave— carrying the baby around with him while doing chores and finishing paper work!!! hanta also would make his own baby food??? i just feel like that man is so ahead of the game best dad ever !! your baby would be such a daddy’s kid too :(

shinsou: finally!! our boy shinsou!!! you cannot tell me that this man doesn’t take the night shift purely so he can stay up and sing your baby to sleep, hitoshi has lullaby after lullaby prepared for your baby so much so that eventually they sleep through the night. they’re so attached to him :( because he’s also really chill and prepared to be a father— just bouncing them up and down gently while he walks through the house to soothe little babba. after putting the littol one down, shinsou takes care of you and runs you a bath because you’re the best momma in the world <3

[marwritesgood]

Just Me | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Early Season One

Summary: Simon and Y/n had a long history together. So why did it take reading Lady Whistledown’s latest column for her to learn about his blooming relationship with Daphne Bridgerton?

masterlist

A/N: This fic is over 6K words. 

The mere thought of a BIPOC love story set in the 18th Century is enough to make me swoon. So I decided to give it a go and write one myself. There’ll be two more parts after this :)

I also wanted to keep the reader description applicable to any and all women of colour, so it’s a bit vague just to ensure all of us (women of colour) can feel included. Please let me know if there any parts of this fic that don’t do this and I’ll fix it asap! 

If you’re white, this fic is not for you to identify with x

Also, if at any point you find my attempt at mimicking the language used in Bridgerton laughable... you are not the only one lmao. This has been super fun to write and also very challenging, but I am well aware it is farrrr from perfect :)

Nonetheless, I hope it’s a nice read for my WOC readers <3

Simon and Y/n first met when they were children. Her mother was very closely acquainted with Lady Danbury, so naturally, a friendship grew between the two of them- and a strong one at that. 

For years, their interactions had remained within confinements of what was socially acceptable. They bickered. They laughed. They shared inside jokes about the people within their social circle. Their feelings for each other never extended beyond what was befitting of a friendship. 

That was until they grew older.

When marriage and love became more and more ingrained into casual conversations, Simon and Y/n explored their feelings for one another. Questioned the extent to which they cared for each other and whether there was something more beneath the surface.

However, just as Y/n came to realise her love for Simon, he left for London. After a few short weeks, he returned with a new title. A new vow that the Hastings bloodline would end with him. Subsequently, with it, any hope Y/n had of her relationship with him becoming anything more than all it had always been: a friendship.

A year had passed since the sorrowful conversation resulting in Simon and Y/n agreeing to not indulge in the affections they shared. Since then, Y/n struggled to focus on securing a marriage proposal from one of the suitors in her town.

“This is your second season,” Y/n’s mother cried as she paced across the sitting room. Y/n sat in silence, having been interrupted from playing the piano by another one of her panicked outbursts. “Your second season and yet you continue to reject every marriage proposal you receive.”

She couldn’t blame her mother for being frustrated with her. As her only daughter, she needed to find a good match and be married off as soon as possible. Her father was of old age, but even he remained restless that Y/n be married. He much preferred the prospect of dying knowing that the estate would be inherited by Y/n’s husband instead of his nephew.

“I did not reject Mr Graham’s proposal, mama,” Y/n responded, unnervingly calmly considering how distraught her mother was. Mr Graham’s proposal was the latest one she had received that season. “I... simply asked for more time to consider my answer.”

“What on earth is there to consider?” Mrs Y/l/n shrieked. Her frustration only grew when her daughter was unable to answer her question. Y/n turned away from her mother. “He is a good man. He comes from a good, honourable family and will give you a good future- something you will not have if you continue to turn away suitors.”

“Mama, please.” Y/n could not say anything more, for fear that her mother’s anger toward her would only grow if she were to find out the truth. The real reason she could not yet bring herself to accept a marriage proposal.

“Why do you need time to consider, Y/n?” Her daughter had stood up from behind the piano and had her back turned to her mother. That did not stop her from continuing to pry. After so many rejected proposals, she felt she had a right to know why her daughter refused to marry. “I beg of you, tell me- what is there to consider?... What could possibly be keeping you from marrying Mr Graham.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Y/n sighed exasperatedly and turned back to face her mother.

“I do not love him,” Y/n replied in a hushed cry, only just loud enough for Mrs Y/l/n to hear from across the room. “He may be a good man, mama, but I... I do not love him, and I do not believe I ever could.”

She knew from their first encounter that she could never love him. Perhaps it was how he mispronounced her grandmother’s name or the way he possessed the same arrogance as every other suitor Y/n encountered. 

“My dear,” Mrs Y/l/n said, her voice and expression softening entirely. She reached out for her daughter’s hand and took hold of it gently. She knew precisely how Y/n felt, which meant that, unfortunately, she knew there was nothing to be done. “We have talked about this. Women like you and I... we do not have the luxury to make decisions based on our own feelings.”

Y/n was surrounded by women who did not share the same experiences she did. Women who could not empathise with the challenges she faced and being a woman in the 18th Century. Not even if they tried.

Therefore, whenever Y/n found herself hoping for the same things as the white women around her, she had to bring herself back to reality. She had to remember that if life was unkind to white women, it would always be hell for women like her, no matter who married into the royal family.

“I know,” Y/n answered. 

She did. She knew it was incredibly reckless of her to reject all of the proposals she had received. She knew she was naïve for basing her decision based on love. Yet, even so, she could not keep herself from holding out on the hope that she would not end up in a loveless marriage.

“I do not mean to upset you, Y/n,” Mrs Y/l/n said sincerely, as she guided her daughter to the nearest seat. “But I fear that if you continue on, you will have no more proposals to reject, and I... I simply cannot bear the thought... Please, dear, you must-”

Y/n began to close her eyes ready to brace herself for what she feared would inevitably happen- her mother insisting she accepts a proposal. However, just as she did, a maid knocked on the door and promptly brought in the newspaper. When Simon left for London, Y/n requested that any newspaper copy or mail sent to her from London be immediately handed to her. She looked forward to any kind of update on him.

“Thank you,” Y/n said to the maid as she handed her the newspaper. Without hesitation, she immediately turned to Lady Whistledown’s column.

“What does it say?” Her mother asked, giving up on her attempts at convincing Y/n to accept a marriage proposal, at least for the time being. 

Y/n’s blood ran cold as she read the column. She had expected to hear more about the bitter impression Simon was leaving in London. She was going to comment on how typical arrogant white elitists villainising anyone who did not approach them in a way that appeases their ego.

But that was not what she read.

Instead, she read about Simon showing a particular interest in the woman named the ‘Diamond of the Season’ by the Queen herself- Miss Daphne Bridgerton. She read about him courting her and spending a significant amount of time with her. She read about flowers, the expensive kind, and walks through Hyde park, and she was unsure whether to feel betrayed or feel furious.

It was one thing for Simon to begin courting another woman, after explaining to Y/n that he would never marry. It was another for her to have to learn all of this from reading the Lady Whistledown column. 

Without providing her mother with an answer as to what the column wrote, Y/n slammed the newspaper against the table beside her and stood up abruptly. 

Her mother went to reprimand Y/n for slamming the paper so violently against her favourite table. However, Y/n walked hastily into her bedroom. She began to plan what she was to pack when she would leave for London in the morning.

She was adamant on learning the truth in its entirety. And, this time, not from an anonymous publisher but from Simon himself.

***

Y/n had an aunt who lived in London with her husband and their three kids- all much younger than Y/n was. She knew that if she could get away with arriving in London unannounced with intent to stay for longer than a week, her only luck was with her aunt.

After she was escorted inside by one of the workers, Y/n stood and marvelled at her aunt’s husband’s estate. It looked nothing like the sitting room at her home. It looked fancier with much nicer things, leading her to think back to why her mother pushed so hard for her to marry. Mrs Y/l/n had helped her younger sister find a match, and now she lived in a beautiful home in London. 

Perhaps all she wanted was to ensure the same future for her only child.

“Y/n, my dear!” Her aunt came bursting through the doors with arms stretched out. She pulled Y/n into a tight embrace as she always did whenever greeting her niece. Before her three children, she had Y/n. “Oh, how I have missed you!”

“I have missed you too, Aunt Philippa,” Y/n smiled, gently clutching her aunt’s hand as she held her cheek. “Please forgive me for arriving here unannounced. I would have written to you in advanced, but I have an urgent matter to attend to.”

“Do not be silly, my dear,” Philippa laughed, before guiding her niece out of the sitting room and towards the staircase. “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you may need. Though I imagine your mother will be impatiently anticipating your return... how is my dear sister?”

“As restless as ever,” Y/n mumbled. Philippa’s laughter echoed across the halls. Just as she expected, her older sister had not changed. Not one bit. “She is adamant that I am engaged by the end of the season, which is part of the reason I needed to leave home so quickly.”

“I do not blame you, dear,” Philippa murmured. She knew from first-hand experience how relentless Y/n’s mother could be. Even so, she knew it was out of love. Y/n knew as well. “Now... what is the urgent matter you need to attend? I imagine you will need a chaperone... and perhaps a carriage?”

Y/n smiled in relief. Everything she had done leading up to her arrival in London was purely impulsive. She hadn’t even thought of how she would get to Simon or who she would have to escort and chaperone her. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know the whereabouts of... the Duke of Hastings?”

Philippa’s eyes grew twice in size. Whether it was shock or excitement, Y/n could not figure out. It wasn’t until her aunt pulled her into the nearest empty room, checked to see if anyone was listening in, and grinned at her that Y/n concluded it was the latter.

“When I read about the Duke and Miss Bridgerton, all I could think of was you,” Philippa began, speaking in a hushed tone, though unable to contain her excitement. She did not typically indulge in gossip, but she was entirely invested in staying updated to her niece and Simon. “You never did tell me what happened when he returned. Did you confess your feelings?”

Philippa had generously volunteered her afternoons so that her niece could practise what she would say to Simon. She hoped those afternoons had not been spent in vain.

“I did... And then he did too... Before telling me, he would never marry,” Y/n explained, trying to conceal the way her breath hitched and the way tears welled up in her eyes. “Though, after reading Lady Whistledown’s column, it is clear that perhaps he meant that he would never marry me.”

Philippa frowned and lifted her hand up again, holding the side of Y/n’s face and swiping the few tears she couldn’t stop from escaping. As she did so, Y/n inhaled sharply- trying desperately to keep herself from indulging in her sorrow.

“I am sure that is not the case, dearest,” Philippa insisted. 

She refused to believe Simon would do that to her niece. Not after the stories she had heard from Y/n as they grew up. Not to mention all the times she caught one staring at the other across ballrooms and dining tables. 

“We must hurry,” she chirped, dropping her hand so she could grasp her niece’s arm. “I believe the Duke will be in Hyde Park with Lady Danbury. ‘Tis best we leave now if we wish to catch them.”

Y/n smiled. Being with her aunt was a nice change of pace to being with her mother. She would have scolded Y/n had she caught wind of what had happened. 

***

Upon their arrival at Hyde Park, Philippa approached Lady Danbury. Her plan was to make conversation with her, find out more about Simon and Daphne’s relationship. Then, she would ultimately create a segue for Y/n to have a somewhat private conversation with Simon.

However, Y/n had other plans.

When they arrived, she scanned the park in search of Simon. Once she spotted him walking alone on the pavement, she threw caution and decorum to the wind. Before her Aunt Philippa could stop her, Y/n sprinted. 

Once she reached him, she grabbed his shoulder roughly, prompting him to turn around.

“Peach,” Simon whispered, dumbfounded by Y/n’s sudden appearance.

He stopped calling Y/n by her name when they were five. Instead, he called her Peach, for reasons that remained a mystery to Y/n. Despite not knowing the reasoning behind it, she always adored it. She was the only person he had a unique designated name for.

More recently, she wondered if Miss Bridgerton would soon become an exception.

“You owe me an explanation,” Y/n said harshly, not having the patience to beat around the bush. This was primarily because she wanted to know the truth and because she was out of breath from sprinting to Simon.  “Do I really mean so little to you, Simon?”

“Please lower your voice,” Simon begged, subtly grabbing Y/n’s arm and quickening their pace to avoid the crowded area of the park. 

“Do not speak to me as though I am a child,” Y/n growled, yanking her arm away from him and stepping back. 

“Then do not act like one,” Simon retorted.

Y/n scoffed, before dusting off her dress. Simon rolled his eyes to cover his nervousness. He had a habit of concealing it with aggression. Y/n was often able to see through it, but she was guilty of doing the same.

“What changed?” Y/n asked as she looked back at Simon. “You seemed so certain when you told me you would never marry. Now you have extended your stay in London to court Miss Bridgerton?”

“I wish I could give you an answer,” Simon responded honestly. It was perhaps the most honest statement he had made all month. 

His courtship of Daphne was a mere ruse to attract more suitors for her. Truth be told, Simon was incredibly stressed by it, but he was too deep into the lie to give up any time soon. He hadn’t anticipated Y/n would be caught in the middle of it.

“Well, what could be hindering you from doing so?” Y/n cried, confused by how vague and cryptic Simon was acting.

He struggles to find the right words. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Y/n any more than he already had, but he could not give her the answer she wanted. Although he was not actually courting Daphne, he still would not marry. Thus, he could not do what would make her happy, which was the main reason he kept his distance from her in the first place.

“Things are different now,” Simon said apologetically, hoping to deter Y/n from prying. Though he desperately wanted to say more, he knew that doing so was incredibly risky. “We... we are not children anymore.”

Y/n blinked, astonished by Simon’s reaction. It was far from what she had expected. She expected an explanation. She expected assurance. Instead, she has pushed aside as though she and her feelings were disposable. 

This was a familiar feeling to Y/n.

“Is that all you think of me?” She asked angrily. Simon, of all the people in her life, had the most power to hurt her. And he often did so without realising. “A child?... And our relationship? You think it is something as easy to put behind you as your childhood? Is that all this is to you, Simon?”

She went to speak again. To demand what she felt she had a right to. However, before she could get a word out, a woman appeared from behind her. She was fair-skinned and wore a dress that resembled her complexion. 

“Miss Bridgerton,” Simon gasped. He did not know whether to be grateful for her arrival or concerned about how it would affect Y/n. He eventually became both. “May I introduce you to Miss Y/l/n. She is a... very close family friend.”

Y/n had to keep herself from scoffing. She was more to him than just a friend. Y/n knew that well, despite Simon’s denial.

“I am terribly sorry,” Miss Bridgerton cried, averting her attention to Y/n. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“Not at all,” Y/n assured, smiling sincerely at Daphne. Her anger was entirely directed towards Simon. Unlike him, Daphne had no pre-existing history with Y/n to remain considerate of. “I actually must return to my aunt. It was lovely to finally meet you, Miss Bridgerton.”

Before Y/n turned to walk back to her Aunt Philippa, she glanced back at Simon, who was very clearly terrified of how calm Y/n was. He could only imagine the amount of anger she was harbouring. Deterring her would prove to be much more complicated than he expected.

“Your grace,” Y/n snarled through gritted teeth, before forcing a smile as she turned away.

***

It had been a week since Y/n and Simon’s interaction at Hyde Park.

Y/n sat beside her aunt Philippa in a carriage as she read through her mother’s letter. She had made vividly clear, through an eight-paged rant, that she was absolutely livid with her daughter. Y/n’s hands were trembling. 

“I assume she is quite upset?” Philippa asked, though she already knew the answer. 

Y/n had extended her stay to a week just so she could attend a gala at Lady Danbury’s estate. It was her last hope of catching a moment alone with Simon and gaining, at the very least, some form of closure. She hoped it would not come to that, but from their last interaction, Y/n was losing confidence.

“She is furious,” Y/n answered shortly, before folding the letter abruptly and placing it aside. Her mother wrote one demand that sent chills through her bones. “If I am not home within a week, she will come to London and take me back herself. Then, I will have to accept Mr Graham’s proposal.”

Philippa’s stomach dropped. She placed her hand atop her niece’s. Y/n looked down to conceal the tears that began to gather in her eyes. Philippa noticed and wrapped her arm around Y/n, gently squeezing her shoulder. 

“I am sure it will not come to that,” she whispered soothingly, though she struggled to sound sincere. Y/n nodded. She didn’t quite believe her aunt, but she knew there was no point in losing hope entirely. At least not yet.

Once they arrived at the gala, Philippa made conversation with a friend, whileY/n made way to Lady Danbury. The event was held in her courtyard. While others marvelled at her estate, Y/n felt a warm sense of nostalgia. When Lady Danbury brought Simon to her London estate during summers, she would often invite Y/n and her parents. While her parents and the Danburys made conversation in the house, Simon and Y/n would run about freely outside.

“Welcome back, Miss Y/l/n,” Lady Danbury smiled warmly, as Y/n and her aunt approached her.

“It is a pleasure to be here, my lady,” Y/n responded curtly, before laughing out loud as Lady Danbury pulled her into her arms for a tight hug. 

Once she let go, they made small talk. Lady Danbury asked Y/n how her parents were. Y/n asked Lady Danbury how she was and how her fruit orchards were. After they ran out of things to discuss, Y/n could not help but scan the room searching for Simon, who was nowhere to be found.

“I am not completely sure where he is,” Lady Danbury said, startling Y/n who had not realised how far from natural she was acting. “Though, he did complain about how suffocated he was by the throng here... I imagine he has gone to a place where it will be difficult for most to find him.”

Y/n thought for a moment. Lady Danbury was cryptic by nature, and after years of knowing her, she had a knack for figuring out what she meant. Once Y/n knew, she smiled at Lady Danbury, before excusing herself from the gala.

Y/n headed away from the gala and towards the maze area. It was well-lit, which she was grateful for as it meant she could navigate her way around swiftly. It felt like second-nature to her; running about in the Danbury’s London Estate. She forgot how much she enjoyed the thrill of running through and past the hedges.

Once she reached the maze’s centre, she saw Simon standing idle, his back towards where she stood. That was the place they spent most of their time. When they were younger, they would sit there and play games. As they got older, they would sit there and talk. Sometimes he would read while she drew. Sometimes vice versa. But most of the time, they spoke—about everything worth talking about, and then some.

“I remember the first time we played here together,” Y/n began, causing Simon to jump. Once he turned around and saw Y/n his tense posture softened, and a small smile appeared across his face. She felt relieved by it, though she didn’t want to let her guard down entirely. “I got lost, almost immediately, and you found me sitting here, cross-legged, in a puddle of tears. Do you remember?”

Simon chuckled. Of course, he thought. 

“You were inconsolable when I found you,” he mocked, prompting Y/n to reach out and lightly punch his shoulder. His laughter only grew.

“We were five,” Y/n reasoned. She would never admit that she was dramatic. Not even as a child. “I genuinely thought no one would ever find me... and then you did, within a matter of minutes.”

She joined him in laughing. It made for a very entertaining story that they retold relentlessly. While others were sick of hearing it, neither of them were sick of recounting it, for their own reasons.

“I told you I would never leave you behind,” he added, smiling as he thought back to that day. His smile faded quickly when he realised the irony. He frowned and took a step towards Y/n. “Peach, I must apologise-”

“-No... I am the one who must apologise,” she intervened. Simon stood back in confusion. Y/n sighed before clarifying herself. “I did not mean to blindside you so aggressively before. I did not come here to argue with you, Simon, I... I came to ask you if it is true... Are you courting Miss Bridgerton... with the intent of marrying?”

Simon winced. 

He felt conflicted by both his love for Y/n and the promise he made to Daphne to uphold their ruse. He could not in good faith outright admit that he was merely pretending to court Miss Bridgerton. However, he couldn’t bear the thought of breaking Y/n’s heart a second time.

His lips parted, but his mouth ran dry. Before Simon could keep himself from blurting out the wrong thing, he was overcome by a habit he developed over the last month of playing along.

“I am,” he answered.

Just as he did, he lifted his hand to his temple and scrunched his eyebrows. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Y/n. He was still haunted by the look on her face when he told her he would never marry.

“Right,” she sniffled, unsure how to react. Y/n had convinced herself that there was more to the story than what she had read from Lady Whistledown. She regretted how in-denial she allowed herself to become. 

One thing Y/n knew for sure, though, was that she did not want to be near Simon. Although she was on the verge of sobbing, she still turned around and intended to leave him, but Simon grabbed her arm and kept her from doing so.

“Please let me explain,” he begged.

Y/n’s tears halted as she glared at Simon, shocked. She shook her arm out of his grasp and took a step back from him. She had always despised the way men often treated women as though they were disposable and replaceable. She never expected Simon to be one.

“There is no explanation necessary,” she scoffed.

“Y/n, please, you do not understand,” Simon cried. It was rare for him to call her by her name, but Y/n dubbed it as him trying to manipulate her emotions. She would not let that happen. 

“No, of course, you would deceive me,” Y/n spat, unwilling to let Simon get a word in. She was tired of waiting around just to hear from him. This time, she would be the talking. He would be the one listening. “-about not wanting to marry or have children, and of course, I believed your ridiculous lie, like the fool I have always been for you.”

“Ridiculous?” Simon hissed. Y/n’s dismissal of his vow sparked a fit of anger that overcame him before he could realise it had done so. No one had ever called to question or criticised his decision to remain a bachelor for life. No one until Y/n.

“Perhaps not a ridiculous lie,” Y/n sneered. “No, it was more-so childish and nonsensical.”

“And yet, you believed it... What is that to say about you, Miss Y/l/n?” Simon scorned. Y/n flinched. Simon had only ever addressed her in such a way to either tease her or to emphasise his anger. It had been a long while since he had done so for the latter. “It was not a lie, Y/n, I... You could never understand the immense pressure I have been placed under my entire life-”

“- Pressure that significantly decreased with the death of your father,” Y/n argued. Simon acted as though he had a monopoly over her when it came to challenges in life. He could not have been more wrong. “I, on the other hand, am placed under severe pressure and will continue to be, long after my parents pass... That is one of the many things you will never understand.”

“That is not true,” Simon fired back, only for Y/n to continue speaking- this time, with a louder voice.

“We may be the same in one sense, but we are significantly different in another, because you, Simon, are still a man with a title.” Y/n and Simon both shared similar challenges as neither of them were white. However, where Simon inherited certain advantages for being a man, and a Duke, Y/n was only disparaged more. He often forgot that. “You, at the very least, still have the luxury of choice. To choose how you wish to fulfil your future, and whether or not that may include a wife or children.”

Simon lowered his eyes defeatedly. Though he was still angry, there was no denying the shame he felt. 

“I do not. Those choices were made for me the moment I was born a daughter and not a son. So do not act as though you are in a position to empathise with me,” Y/n said. “Especially when you have been the least bit empathetic after I came all the way here, just to confirm the truth about you and Miss Bridgerton.”

“I never told you to come to London,” Simon snapped.

“No, you did not,” Y/n retorted, with just as much, if not more, annoyance in her voice. “You did not tell me anything. I had to find out at the same moment as everyone else in England, as though we are strangers.”

Simon flinched as Y/n progressed from speaking loudly to outright shouting. He had always relied on having her sympathy and her support, even when he was in the wrong. Thankfully, they were far from the gala. However, Simon still feared someone had heard her reprimanding him.

“You claim you are different, now that you are a Duke, but you are the same as you have always been,” Y/n continued. She knew how he had always been. Better than anyone, let alone Miss Bridgerton, that was for sure. “You are still rigid and arrogant. You are still a coward who will never allow himself to feel any kind of joy. And you are still revolving your every decision in life around a man you claim to despise.”

“You do not know a thing,” he whispered, which only confirmed to Y/n that he was scared. He was intimidated. For as long as they had known one another, Y/n rarely confronted his relationship with his father.

“I have watched you go from living only to please him to living only to spite him, even if it means hurting the people who actually care for you,” she cried. She had no more anger within her. Not any more. She had only sadness. “Did it ever occur to you how much it hurt when you rejected me?”

“That was never my intention,” Simon said regretfully. 

It was the truth, though Simon had begun to realise that his wrath against his father blinded him from what he cared about more: her happiness. 

“Peach,” he whispered, inching towards Y/n as he lifted his hand and held the left side of her face. “Please, believe me, I never meant to hurt you.”

Their eyes locked for what felt like an eternity. It had been so long since they had shared a moment like that. An intimate moment shared between no one but them. Where Simon was not the stoic and emotionally detached Duke of Hastings. He was Simon. Dare she say, her Simon.

Despite that, Y/n was the first to turn away. She wanted to indulge. To take advantage of the opportunity to reconcile with him. To enjoy how vulnerable he was, after months of distance. 

But she couldn’t. 

Not when there were still questions burning in her mind. She could not rest until they were dealt with. After all, she was her mother’s child.

“Then what about Miss Bridgerton?” Y/n’s expression remained stagnant, but she could not keep hands from trembling. Simon winced at the mention of Daphne. “You... courting her after rejecting me... You cannot possibly tell me you did not intend to hurt me when you did that.”

Simon opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He had no response to what she had said because there was no justification for what he had done. All he could do was curse quietly to himself for taking so long to realise how foolish he had been.

“I had always expected this to happen,” Y/n began, sniffling as she tried to compose herself enough to explain herself. Simon remained quiet and decided he would until she finished. He figured he owed her as much. “I always knew I would be turned away for someone like Daphne Bridgerton.”

It had been the subject of many of her mother’s lessons. Before she was introduced to society, her mother made it a point to prepare her for rejection. To not hold out hope for any man, until a marriage proposal was made. 

Simon had been Y/n’s only exception to that rule. 

“It’s happened to me my whole life,” Y/n laughed bitterly, as she recalled all the times she had lost to a woman of fairer skin than her. All the times she wept to her Aunt Philippa and to Simon. “I always expected this would happen. But I never expected this would happen with you.”

Simon’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Y/n struggle to stifle her cries in between her sentences. He had watched her sit in this sorrow many times, just as she had done for him, for this was a pain she shared. But this time was different. This time he was the one responsible. 

He didn’t know pain, so heart-wrenching, was possible. But watching her cry and knowing he could do nothing to fix it. That pain had never felt more real.

“I do not blame you, Simon,” Y/n whimpered, which only made him hurt more. He wanted her to be angry. To berate him some more. It was the least of what he deserved for causing her such sorrow. “She is the ‘Diamond of the Season’ after all, and... I am just me.”

Y/n hated the pity party she was throwing for herself, but she could not help what she felt. After a life of being classed second to white women, who could blame her for internalising this? 

He was dying to say something. To tell Y/n that she had it all wrong. He wanted to reveal that his courtship of Daphne was all a ruse. That he could never bring himself to entertain the idea of marrying anyone but her. But his fear of only making things worse left him paralysed. 

“You have made it abundantly clear that I was a fool forever waiting around for you,” she said to Simon. Unfortunately for him, she had taken his lack of response as confirmation that what she had concluded of the situation was accurate. “I will not make that mistake again.”

“Peach-”

“Goodbye, Simon,” Y/n blurted as she turned away hastily. 

Left in too much shock to reach out and stop her, Simon stood, dumbfounded, and watched as the woman he loved walked away from him and back to the gala. Looking back, he wished he had called out to her. Simon wished he had run after her. But he did not.

When Y/n reached the courtyard where the gala was being held, she couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that rushed over when she realised Simon let her go. This assured her that she was right to leave him, but it did not alleviate the pain in doing so. 

She made her way through the crowd and searched for her aunt. As she did, she felt her cheeks burn and her pace of breath quicken. She had gone through all the effort of coming to London just for what she feared most to be the reality. 

“There you are, my dear!”

Y/n turned around and saw her Aunt approaching her. Philippa smiled brightly as she walked towards her niece. However, when she realised that Y/n’s enthusiasm fell short of matching hers by a significant margin, her smile began to fade.

“Where is Simon?” She inquired, her voice lowered to not draw attention to their conversation. From Y/n expression, Philippa inferred that was the last thing she wanted.

Y/n’s lip quivered as she tried desperately to answer her aunt’s question. When she failed to do so, she hung her head- too embarrassed to face her aunt. Philippa frowned. A line appeared between her brows as she reached out to her distraught niece.

Though she was dying to know, the details of Simon and Y/n’s conversation were the least of her concerns. All she cared for was her niece and helping her in any way she needed. 

“I will call for our carriage,” she whispered, before guiding Y/n out of the courtyard. 

Once their carriage arrived, Philippa sat opposite her niece and watched worriedly as she refused to make eye contact, let alone speak.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Y/n took a long moment to respond. She stared at her gloved hands as she thought about what to do next. She regretted all the proposals she had turned down, and all the ways she put her life on hold for Simon. She felt ashamed that she had allowed herself to be in the situation she was in. 

Then she realised the only thing she could do to fix it.

“May you organise a carriage to take me home tomorrow?” Y/n asked. Her aunt’s eyes widened. Returning home to face her mother was the last thing Philippa expected Y/n to want to do. 

She watched her niece closely, trying to figure out what her plan moving forward was. Y/n finally looked up and met her aunt’s gaze. To Philippa’s surprise, her niece had a prominent sense of confidence in her expression. 

“Why, my dear?” Philippa quizzed, her eyebrows still knitted in confusion as well as fear. The way her niece was suddenly overcome with confidence after being on the verge of tears was concerning. She couldn’t imagine it would lead to anything good.

Y/n inhaled sharply, pursing her lips as she did so. She knew her aunt would disagree with what she planned to do. But she also knew that, given the circumstance, Philippa would reluctantly do as she asked. Before she answered, Y/n momentarily glanced down at her hands and turned back to her aunt.

“I have a proposal to accept.”

NEXT PART

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

Asahi accidentally tells you his feelings in front of the entire team (Part 2)

Continued from Part 1! I would suggest reading it first before proceeding!

Asahi accidently blurted out the L-word as Y/N was rushing out of the club room. He does not know if Y/N heard him. But the entire Karasuno VBC did. Is the gentle giant going to get through this without crying dying making a mess?

Asahi x gn! reader || Sfw Genre: Comedy and fluff at the end Word Count: 1.5k+

The entire Karasuno team is looking at Asahi in stunned silence. They all heard him say he loves you. 

However (fortunately or unfortunately for him), you did not really hear what he said. The entire club’s eyes are glued to the club room’s open windows as they watch you sprint away, eager to make it in time for your movie.

Asahi’s eyes are open wide and he keeps opening and closing his mouth but no words are coming out, he is simply gaping like a fish and making incomprehensible noises. His face is so red and hot that one could make their entire breakfast on it. 

Asahi: I-I-I d-didn’t m-mean t-t-to s- NOYA?! TANAKA?! WHY ARE YOU CRYING?!?!

Noya: *in between sobs* Asahi-san, you have grown up so fast!

Tanaka: *loud noises that seem to indicate agreement with Noya* *violent sobbing*

Suga intervened: Oi, you two, stop it! Your cries might catch Y/N’s attention.

Meanwhile, Hinata has run over and climbed on to the club room’s window and is now shouting live updates of your whereabouts. 

“Uwaaaah Asahi-san, I do not think Y/N-san heard you. I can see them running towards the gates.”

Kageyama kicks Hinata, “BOKE, don’t shout their name from the open window, they might hear you, you BOKE!”

“BAKA, Kageyama, you don’t have to kick me, I am only trying to help!”

At this point, Tanaka and Noya are rolling on the floor and crying violently, Kageyama and Hinata are trying to kill each other while Suga and Daichi try to separate them. Asahi is staring at the floor, wishing for a hole to open up and swallow him. The rest of the team is just standing around in silence, trying to absorb the mess that has happened in the last 30 seconds. 

So, you know, a usual day at the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

This is what is going on in Asahi’s mind right now:

“It’s certainly a relief that Y/N did not hear me. Or did they?!?!? and they just pretended to ignore me so they wouldn’t have to answer?!?!?! After all, it has only been 4 months, I do not expect them to love me so soon. What if this scares them off?? If they really did not hear me, that would have been great if the entire team hadn’t heard me say it. And knowing these people, I am sure Y/N will know about this before tomorrow. WHAT IF THEY HEARD ME AND THEY FREAKED OUT AND RAN OFF AND WILL NEVER COME BACK? -” and on and on it went.

"Uh-Oh”

Suga’s words snap Asahi out of his overthinking trance (good timing, I should say, because at this point he is seriously considering shifting to India and becoming a monk). He looks up to see Suga looking out the window. He pales.

//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What have you been doing since you ran out?

“Shit, I’m going to be late if I walk there. I will have to run if I want to make it in time. The theatre is not that far, though, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

These are the thoughts going through your head as you sprint away from the club room. As you are running, your mind wanders back to Asahi (as it usually does). You have a tendency to replay every moment with him in your mind and you are thinking back to the conversation that had just taken place. Asahi had looked so cute when you were handing him his hairband. You couldn’t wait to see him tonight and you had told him that as you had run out of the room. And it seems so had he-

And then it registers. 

Wait-

//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A very loud -WHAT?! resounded through the room. It was your voice. And even though it came from the outside, it felt like the entire room shuddered. The sound sent chills through Asahi’s spine and he started quaking in his shoes.

Suga: Uh Asahi, you have probably already realized this but Y/N seems to be running back in this directio-

The club room’s door slams open with such force that it makes everyone jump. You stand at the doorway, panting loudly, with the most incredulous expression on your face.

Asahi is dead now. I am sorry to say but his soul has left his body and it will not be returning. Let’s all come together to pray for his peaceful departure.

You look at Asahi. His face has drained entirely of its colour and he looks ready to pass out. You can almost see steam coming out of his ears as he stares at you in absolute horror. 

“D-did you j-just say you love me?” you manage to gasp out your question as you try to steady your breathing.

Asahi is dead, Y/N, dead people do not speak. 

He is shaking as you walk towards him. The expressions on his and teammates’ faces have already answered your question.

Even though Asahi is terrified out of his mind, he is trying to read your expression. How he chooses to answer right now is probably going to make or break your relationship. 

In between all the confusion on your face, he sees a hint of something else in your eyes: Hope.

You stop in front of him. You ask him the same question again, but much more calmly this time now that your breathing has somewhat normalized.

As he continues to try to read your expression, he realizes you are not mad at him. Instead, there is a slight earnestness in you. He calms down a bit.

“Y-yes.” he says, barely meeting your eyes.

“Do you really mean it? Or was it just a slip of your tongue?” you ask, hopeful, but also bracing yourself for the worst. What’s worse is that this is all happening in front of PEOPLE and all of their eyes are on you both. This is bound to make Asahi want to nope out of here. But the damage is already done and all you can do right now is wait for him to answer.

“I- I mean it (your heart soars for a second) but- (aaaand there it comes crashing back down).”

Asahi’s eyes are back to looking at the floor now and his fists are clenched. 

“but this...this is not how I wanted to tell you. I wanted to make it special for you. But I fucked this up too.”

You did not know what you were expecting him to say but this was certainly not it. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“And I- I understand if you do not feel the same way. Or if you want to b-break up with m-me.”

His voice cracks at the last sentence and even though he’s looking down, it’s not hard to figure out that he is holding back tears. 

“Special for me?” you say as you close the distance between you and him. You use your hands to cup his face and tilt his head up so that he is looking at you. His eyes are full of tears that threaten to fall at any second. 

“The only thing I need for it to be special for me is YOU. I do not care about where you said it, or how you said it. I just care that you said it. That’s the most special thing you could have done for me. You are the only thing I want and need. Everything else is just secondary.”

You wipe away a tear that has fallen from his eyes. 

“However, to make things even: I, L/N Y/N, standing here at Karasuno High School, in the Volleyball Club Room, surrounded by the weirdest audience ever, (why are Tanaka and Noya hugging and crying?? Why does Hinata seem to be in the middle of pantsing Kageyama??), would like to tell you, Azumane Asahi, that I love you too.” You kiss Asahi on his forehead, rubbing comforting circles on his back and give him a big smile. “Was that special enough for you?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, as he throws his arms around you and pulls you in for a short but passionate kiss (something he has never done in public before). His tears are now freely falling but he smiles the biggest smile at you and everything he wants to say to you, all the love and gratitude he has for you, you can see in his eyes. “I love you” he whispers as he loosens his hold on you. 

“I love you too. Can’t wait to see you tonight.” 

You are horribly late for your movie but you don’t care anymore. However, you do know it is important for your boyfriend (WHO LOVES YOU BACK!!) to focus on volleyball. So, you use the movie to excuse yourself and you finally walk out of the room, with the biggest smile on your face. You cannot help but laugh as his teammates almost blow the roof off the place with all their yelling and cheering for him as soon as you leave. 

Suffice it to say that even though you did “see” the movie, you still have no idea what it was about.

FIN

HOPE YOU ENJOYED

Oh my god I finished it. 

This was so enjoyable to write for me I cannot. I don’t think it was too bad for a first attempt??? I’m???

Please do not repost without permission.

Likes, reblogs, follows, comments are much appreciated. 

Pls lmk if you would like more content like this. 

Buy me a Kofi! <3

[peachiimilquetea]

something angsty with tenya leaving fem reader for the event? ty! prompt: “you can’t leave me. i don’t know how to survive without you.”

“𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮.” + tenya iida

a/n: bro… i don’t really like angst without the potential for a somewhat happy ending so i hope you’re ok with the fact that it’s not completely sad. i did pull on the heartstrings quite a bit tho, i hope you enjoy! check out the event here

contains: angst (obviously), iida being heavily influenced by his family, tensei to the rescue lowkey, crying, insecurities, mentions of alcohol, ambiguous ending, miscommunication

length: 2.0k

at first things had started off small.

iida worked long hours as the work of his brother’s hero agency fell on his shoulders. he tried his best to make time for you, but it always felt like your schedules could never line up just right.

you tried to work something out, quick calls on break times and cute messages around the house to remind you of one another, but most efforts fell flat.

then things started to get worse.

long and empty nights were spent building up resentment towards the man you had married. he was always doing something, something that took precedence over the vows you made when you walked down the isle no more than three years ago.

you knew his family didn’t like you that much, feeling that a marriage for love was a waste of such a powerful commitment. a commitment that could built them an empire, and boost the rank of their hero agency, solidifying a legacy for them.

tenya defied them for you, boldly declaring that he would marry whoever he wanted and that you were in it for the long haul. you were the girl of his dreams, he said, and anything that got in the way of his happiness was not something he would subscribe to. that only made them hate you more.

so when his texts of encouragement grew shorter and more sparse, and he began to have more special responsibilities bestowed upon him by none other than his father, you knew it was on purpose.

unfortunately, it was an effective strategy to chip away at a young and unseasoned marriage.

“tenya can you please just check your schedule? i really want to spend more time with you.”

he sighed and rubbed his temples as he sat in his office. why were you bothering him with something so insignificant? you knew how important this transition of power was for the iida family, for the legacy of ingenium, but you still persisted.

he could feel the anger beginning to build until he looked in your eyes and saw the sadness brimming in them. his heart squeezed in his chest as he watched you, his wife, plead with him to spend time together. when had things come to this?

“i’ll try my best, but i cant promise anything.”

at this point, that was better than anything you could’ve hoped for.

with a kiss to his forehead you left him alone to get the heaps of paperwork he had to do, spirits lifted at the prospect of spending time with him again. just like the way it used to be.

you checked the time on the microwave for the 9th time. fifty-seven minutes had passed and your husband was officially late.

you should have seen it coming really, empty promises were becoming more and more common amongst the two of you. he would promise to try harder and you would promise to cut him more slack, the constant push and pull never being enough for either party.

getting up from the barstool at your kitchen island you made your way to the wine cooler to get a drink. not even bothering to pick up a glass you slumped on the couch, kicking off your shoes and splaying yourself out, just wanting the cushions to swallow you whole and dull the aching in your heart.

he wasn’t coming.

he was never coming.

you laid passed out on the couch when iida finally came home 2 hours later. he was only stopping by for a quick break, then going back out on patrol and he completely forgot about the things he said, smiling through tired eyes as he thought, this time i’ll make it up to her.

at the very least he could clean you up and tuck you in. he could brace himself for the impending fight later, but he was concerned about you. you never drank, not unless there was something wrong.

iida easily hoisted you up over his shoulder, discarding the various wine bottles and taking you to your shared room, although he wasn't sure if it was still considered shared anymore.

he laid you on the bed softly, changing you into one of his old shirts. his fingers ghosted over your cheek as he watched you sleep, the reality of where he was sitting heavy on his heart.

he loved you and yet there was nothing he could do to help at this moment. he had to leave for night patrol. he had to leave you.

his gentle touches roused you from your sleep and your eyes felt heavy as you tried to blink them open.

“you came?” you breathed, voice sounding foreign even to yourself.

iida gave you a small smile, “im sorry.”

your demeanor did a 180 at his apology. he was sorry. he was always sorry. but sorry couldn’t fix this. not when it had been so broken.

you winced and sat up, “sorry for what? sorry that you broke your promise for the thousandth time or sorry that you’ve been such a shit husband for the past few months?!”

“______-”

“no tenya. you do this every single time! every time i want to spend time with you theres always something more important! what could be more important than your wife?!”

“______ you know my father-”

you laughed bitterly at the mention of his dad. he always had to be such a good little iida child, always on daddy’s beck and call. it made you sick.

“your father doesn’t even want us to be together! cant you see that he’s doing this on purpose! youre a grown man! not a child permanently tied to his mommy and daddy!” you spat

“hes giving more responsibility for the sake of the agency! for the ingenium legacy! why are you always so selfish when it comes to these things?”

“selfish? selfish?” you asked, incredulous. you couldn’t believe your ears.

“yes selfish. do you know how much i sacrificed to be with you? how much i already have on my plate on top of trying my best to make time for you?”

you stared in astonishment.

sacrifice?

what had he sacrificed for this relationship? he got to do what he wanted, come and go as he pleased with virtually no regard for how you felt or what you did. what sacrifice was there in that way of living?

“fuck you, tenya.”

tenya took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. he chose his words carefully before finally saying, “i cant do this. im leaving.”

you could hear a pin drop in the room. you felt your blood pound in your ears as you stood up quickly, dizzy from the alcohol but still trying to process the words you had just heard.

leaving?

“youre leaving?”

“yes, i have to go. im not doing this with you, not now.”

your heart felt like it had been smashed by a sledgehammer, as you tried to regulate your breathing. leaving. he was leaving.

“w-wait,” you feebly attempted to cling onto him as he gathered a few of his things.

“tenya you cant leave me.”

“_____ i do not want to do this right now,” he sighed, easily shaking you off and moving to collect more things. his words were buzzing around on the inside of your skull. he was leaving.

leaving without so much of a second thought. he had been planning this. still unsteady on your feet you hobbled after him as quickly as possible, desperation taking over every fiber of your body. you didn't want to lose him, you just wanted your husband back, you happiness back.

“y-you cant do that! you cant leave me! i dont know how to survive without you, tenya, please-”

“_____, just go to bed. you’re drunk.”

you trailed him around the house,“no, you don’t get to decide when this is over. i'm the one whos been hurting for months you cannot just leave me by myself.”

iida spared you one last glance before grabbing his bag, “goodbye, _____”

crushed, you sank to your knees, leaning on the couch for support. you felt like you were dying., hell, you probably were dying. you had never had so much to drink in your life, and you were desperate to make the pounding pain in your chest stop.

you cried yourself to sleep that night, waking up to the sunlight coming through the window with a splitting headache. you felt like your skull was trying to crack itself open from the inside but you shakily got to your feet, remembering bits and pieces from your fight with iida.

you could tell he didn't come home last night; everything was exactly the way you had left it last night. the house alarm was still on, and his shoes were gone.

he actually left.

anger bubbled in your chest as you thought about what had actually happened. you would not let him get the last laugh, or be the last one left, the one waiting on him patiently to pick up the pieces after trying to keep it together. you would leave too, as much as it hurt, and show him just how selfish you could be.

in a flash, you haphazardly packed a bag with essentials and had texted your friends that you needed a place to stay for a few days. you didn’t get into specifics- your heart ached too much to relive the events of the previous night- but you told them you had reached your limit and you needed to take some time to cool off.

alternatively, iida did not sleep that night. after finishing patrols, he stayed at his brother’s apartment out of pure convenience, not feeling prepared to face you after everything that had transpired between the two of you.

the dark-haired man laid staring at the ceiling of tensei’s guest bedroom, wracking his brain and trying to pinpoint how things had gone south so fast. he wanted to fix things, but really didn’t know how. he couldn’t even tell you what was broken, let alone how to begin to fix them.

his brother had tried to give him advice after listening to the entire story, but there was only so much he could do. he knew that you were right, their father was keeping him from you on purpose, slowly making tenya think that he was in the right in an attempt to break you up, but he couldn't be the one to tell him.

tenya had to come to that conclusion himself. he needed to be the one to set boundaries and save your relationship, but from the looks of it, soon any attempts would be futile.

“_____? darling?” iida called as he came into your home. immediately noticing your missing shoes, he moved to the bedroom in a flash, checking to see if you had just moved them or something.

the room was a mess, drawers left open and clothing strewn across the bed and floor. the bathroom had been cleared of almost all your essentials, and a note was left on the dresser. gingerly, iida picked it up and read it, offering up a silent prayer that it didn't say what he thought it did.

i don't know when you'll see this, or if you ever will. if you're reading it, that means you came back home but you will not find me there.

im tired, tenya.

im tired of always being the one to extend the olive branch or bend over backwards for you.

i refuse to be in that position any longer. i love you… i love you so much it hurts sometimes because i know this isn't the way things were supposed to be. but you left, and so i decided to leave too.

if a way to fix things exists, i want us to find it, but right now i need some time to reevaluate us and what that means. i hope you understand, i know you will.

if you want to reach out, im open to talking about this further, but for right now i need to think.

goodbye.

--------

[eyrieofsynapses]

i’ll be your god of loss

(from “The God of Loss” by Darlingside, which will make you cry.)

so I was thinking about the trio and kids. Because these people, you know, they adore kids! they’re great with them! And they might not admit to that, they may not believe it, but we know it, we see it with Eliot and Molly, with Hardison and Trevor, with Parker and Josie, with the kids from The Stork Job and The Fairy Godparents Job and their clients’ children and so very many more. 

Most of all we see it with Breanna. We see how they mentor her, how they provide advice, how they encourage her, how they build her up, how they laugh with her and speak of teaching her and telling her stories from the beginning. they unashamedly adore her. And they are so very good with her—they know how she looks up to them, they know they are always watched, and they behave like it. They are truly wonderful with her. 

We know they love kids. We know, too, that they see the foster system’s flaws, and we know they fear for the children they save from bad situations. We see how they instinctively nurture the kids of the clients who have lost a parent. We watch how they will lift up the children of the marks who do not treat them well. 

But they are not meant for white-picket fences. 

These are not the kinds of people who settle down. They do not get tired of what they do one day and say “perhaps we’d best end this now.” They never get tired of it. They adore their work, they adore their life, they cannot imagine anything else. They will never willingly stop.

But there is a point where need eclipses want. There will be a day when they cannot do it anymore. 

This is a known fact, but it is not a loved one. 

The years trickle by. The time of Redemption comes and goes. They raise team after team, create an ever-reaching map of International, help people by the thousands and by the singles. And they are not the management. They leave that to the capable people they have trained, the ones they trust with their lives and more, and they keep doing the jobs, they stay involved, they get their hands dirty. Because there is nothing else for them. They began this doing what they loved, after all, and that love has not faded. If anything it has only grown. 

Parker cannot sit still in an office all day, and Eliot cannot watch others fight and listen to them take the blows that he should, and Hardison will never be able to see all the things his algorithms raise and all the troubles that pass in the media and not do anything about it himself. This is against their very nature. 

But the years go on and on, decades pass, and Hardison realizes one day that this cannot go on forever. 

It is Hardison, because it is him who sits in the headquarters or the van or the discreetly close location with his laptop open and monitoring frequencies. It is Hardison, not Eliot or Parker, who can pay the most attention to the every soft grunt and caught breath and withheld noise of pain. 

It is Hardison who realizes, one fateful day, that those moments increase day by day, job by job, and his injury logs have grown exponentially thicker in the last year. He watches their medical supplies drain away faster and faster even as he replaces them. More and more there are mornings when the other two linger between the sheets for longer than they used to. 

It is he who watches Eliot squint ever more at the files and sees his glasses come out of his pocket with unusual regularity. There is a box full of spares in the bottom drawer of their wardrobe for when they break on the job. Hardison begins tipping the lid more often when he starts hearing the crunch of broken glass in his husband’s jacket pocket. They disappear faster these days. 

(One day Hardison has had enough. He makes the toughest case he can and slips it into Eliot’s jacket pocket the night before a job. Eliot never says anything, but it lays on the bedside table sometimes when they’re off, and the glasses stop disappearing from the box so often.) 

It is he who notices how Parker reinforces her rigs more and more, how ropes and straps support more than they used to and stretch further. The vents don’t thud so often these days. She has hung a hammock high in the rafters of their house, and he sees her less in the harness and more tucked away there. 

(He adds padded bottoms to some of the vents and larger places to rest. Parker never says anything, but the vents rattle a little more often.) 

It is he who observes how Eliot isn’t at the punching bag as regularly anymore, how he wraps his hands so carefully when he is, he who sees how Parker does not stretch quite as far as she used to, how she painstakingly plan jobs where she does not have to do a backbend or a particular contortion. 

It is he who watches every time they step out—not jump out, no, not anymore—of the van, carefully holding on to the sides, and thinks to himself as he watches them walk away— 

Is this the last time I will ever see you?

It’s Hardison who, whenever he finds a new job for them to do, eyes the circumstances and determines whether it’s something he can ship off to another team or not. His algorithms are prioritized now to chances of harm rather than potential jobs, attuned to the ever-growing injury logs. Their jobs begin to skew further to grifts and simpler building plans. But that never stops him wondering: Will this be the last job we ever take? 

Will I send them to their deaths today? 

For it is not his hair that fills with grey streaks faster and faster. It is Parker’s. When he sits behind her on the bed with her brush beside him, carefully separating her hair into strands for braiding, he finds more and more of them silvering. 

(He watches her braid it every day, but some mornings she slips before him anyway. She was delighted when she discovered he could do it, courtesy of too many little sisters and not enough time in busy school mornings. It brings a grin to his face every time he thinks of her sunshine smile.) 

It is Eliot’s, for there are late nights when Hardison finds him stretched out and half-asleep on the couch, and when he comes back with a blanket Eliot will be sitting up and waiting. He always sits beside him. Sometimes, Eliot lays back down with his head in his husband’s lap and lets him card gentle fingers through his hair. Those cherished moments become bittersweet when he finds that it is not so thick nor as deep in color as he remembers (though it is always soft). 

And it is Hardison who bolts awake in the midst of the night with the ringing of the comms in his ears, clutching at the sheets to reassure himself he is not in the van he is not in the headquarters he is not on a job he does not have the earbud in his ear he is not listening to his lovers dying. 

These nightmares plagued him from the beginning. He cannot count the number of times he has dreamt of sucking death-rattle breaths, the crack of spines, the sound of screaming in his ears, cannot count the times he has dreamt of searching and searching for bodies. Sometimes he does find them, staring eyes and crushed ribs and mangled limbs. Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes they aren’t dead at all—but those times he never finds them. He can never figure out which is worse. 

But the nightmares have never been so bad as they are now. 

Other nights he does not sleep. Other nights, he sits awake and watches his lovers’ scarred chests rise and fall in deep slumbering breaths, and wonders when will I lose you? A year from now? Two? Or only months, only weeks? 

What if it’s tomorrow? 

He wakes to the others’ weeping often. But he thinks they are the ones comforting him more these days. 

Finally Hardison has had enough. 

They can’t do this any longer. He can’t do this any longer. Hardison cannot live without them, these two lights of his life, his sun and moon and bright diamond stars—but he knows he will die last, should they continue down this path, and he will die alone and many years from now. 

For it is not he who takes punch after punch from men decades younger than himself, who climbs into stories-high elevator shafts where one wrong button-press could end it all, who stares down the barrels of guns without one himself, who hangs off the sides of buildings by his fingertips, who pushes and pushes and pushes his body day in and day out. His husband and wife are resilient. The odds say that they should have been unable to keep doing this a decade ago—and the odds are wrong.

But Eliot and Parker are not the kinds of people who can merely stop. There will never be a day, Hardison knows, when they will sit down with him and say we do not want to do this anymore. They will push and push and push themselves till they break. 

Hardison knows what their breaking will look like. His dreams have told him so. Hardison will not, will never, let that happen on his watch. He will have to stop them. 

If he asked, they would. It would take coercing, it would take shouting and arguing and probably many hours of the two of them off on their own and thinking, but they would. 

But Hardison turns this over in his mind as he forges paintings and writes code and sends out emails to the teams, tries to picture stopping, and it makes him go nearly as cold as the thought of breaking does. 

Stopping means no more jobs. No more jobs means… 

Well, it means a lot of time spent volunteering, he supposes, and overseeing International’s teams. It means a lot more nights spent at home and not hotels. More of Eliot’s home cooked meals, he guesses, and more movie nights, more trips for fun. The medical kit wouldn’t have to be refilled nearly as often. Eliot’s box of glasses would never have to be replenished again. It means fewer days spent watching his partners hobble around and deny that they need to sit. Hardison wouldn’t have to plan jobs around the weather that makes their bones ache, or watch Parker wince as she drops out of a vent, or notice how Eliot needs the volume in his comm brought up higher than he used to. 

There would be no heart monitors that spike and fall on the screens. 

Hardison thinks of this, and then he imagines Parker and Eliot in their house, day in and day out, and it brings a shake to his breath rather than a steadiness. 

Ever-moving Parker and Eliot, his never-stopping always-going wife and husband, for whom he has to fill the house with distractions to keep them from pacing and snapping and looking for trouble. Parker has vents and climbing systems and a room full to the brim of boxes of locks, safes, puzzle-boxes, books of riddles, absolutely anything and everything that could challenge her. 

There’s a small gym for Eliot. Hardison always puts new gadgets and cookbooks in the kitchen, and he’s found that there are indeed some books that Eliot will spend hours reading (assuming he can find his glasses). A guitar found its way into the living room one day, and now books of music pile up on the nearby shelves. He keeps a closet specifically for outdoor gear. 

But there are only so many meals that can be cooked. Parker is already bored of most of the puzzle room. More than that, they both have to move. Challenges from books and puzzles and games have never and will never be enough for them. 

Hardison thinks of them in that house, day in and day out, growing wearier and wearier of what they have, growing tired of what life has to offer, and it sends a racking shudder through him. 

He goes on, day in and day out, and he watches them, and they push themselves, and he worries and he wonders and he dreams and he fears. 

And then, one day, it hits him. 

They’re sending off yet another kid to the foster system. Hardison will track them and make sure they find the right place, but it always aches a little to watch them go. He’s been through that hell. There is nothing he wouldn’t give not to help them. The three of them always see them off, but it never feels like enough. 

This time, though, he’s rushing, running to meet them. The kid is already leaving. Parker and Eliot watch them go, tension laced in their shoulders, and it occurs to him that he rarely ever watches them watch the kid. 

They look with the same love in their eyes he saw so many years ago. In a moment he is struck with memories: listening to Eliot teaching Molly how to hit balloons with a dart in the mirror, Parker putting her hands over Josie’s ears as she taught her to break into a car, the worried love in his husband’s voice as he searched for the girl he had known for mere hours, the outraged passion of his wife’s protectiveness over the teenager she had seen so much of herself in. 

There is the ringing of Parker’s half-choked declaration they’ll wind up like me. There is the way Eliot had spoken of Cory, a boy who still carried his father’s lunchbox while he worked in a mine for his family. There’s the kid from the boxing ring and the kid whose father was killing himself in the ice rink and the children tackling Eliot in the school and, and, and—

—and Hardison remembers teaching bright, precocious Trevor about hacking when they were trying to steal a goddamn potato of all things. And of course Breanna, wonderful, perfect Breanna, who leads International now. Breanna, whom he spent so many long, long days and nights teaching how to hack and how to build software and hardware and engineering and whatever else she asked of him. Breanna, who called even when it was four in the morning for her, just to hear his tales of the crew. She still calls. Half the time it’s only to hear their voices. 

With her comes the loud, bustling noise of Nana’s house, the shouting echoing off the walls, the warmth of his little siblings on his hip, the attention and focus it took to put braid after braid in his sisters’ hair. Nana was forever busy with the kids. He still loves coming over as often as he can to help. One thing never changes—her house is forever noisy. There are always new kids around, and there are always lessons to be taught: how to fold laundry, how to dance along to a song without worrying whether you’re doing it right, how to complete all of your schoolwork for the night, how to speak kindly, how to work together, and the most important one of all: 

Love yourself.

Nana’s work is never done. She is always busy.

Eliot and Parker cannot stand to be still. They need to be doing something. But most of all, they have to be helping someone. 

The puzzle snaps together like a flash of lightning. As the thunder rolls, so does his mind: he knows precisely what he needs to do. 

First there’s the matter of housing. Their house is big, but not that big, and anyway, the only home that matters to them is each other. Nana’s only one person, and she can manage plenty of kids on her own. Between the three of them, Hardison is sure they’ll wind up with quite the brood. 

There are any number of mansions lying around the States. It’s shocking how many there are. They’re not small, either: most of them could fit a whole extended family in them, though most of the time they’re just bought by too-rich people who can’t hope to fill a quarter of the space. Hardison should know. The crew has infiltrated plenty of them. But he knows they’ll find a way to put one to good use. 

He searches for the ones that are unlikely to be bought and only takes up space. There’s a lot of them, half too damaged to be good for anything, but one sticks out: secluded with beautiful grounds, an area with good (but not too good) schools, a half-decent price point, and a bit of a fixer-upper. 

Standing on ladders and driving in nails isn’t not physical, but it’s a lot better than dodging punches or dropping two stories off a building. Giving Eliot and Parker a project right off the bat will help ease the blow of quitting the jobs. 

Then he hunts down research. He already has shelves upon shelves of books on psychology and parenting and foster children and anything else that could be helpful, but there’s always more to read. A refresher course is important. 

While he’s got algorithms searching for that, he sets some to hunting down more details on the local area as well as building renovations, then begins building a plan. He’ll have to introduce the idea slowly. Parker and Eliot won’t be opposed, per say, but getting them to completely agree will be a challenge. 

It takes a few weeks, but it’s going well, and Hardison’s almost ready to present his idea to them. 

Then his world shatters. 

It’s another job, another day, another time when he watches his lovers head out the door and wonders will it be this time? 

Except then will it be this time? changes to oh God, it’s this time. 

Eliot’s breaths choke off at the same time something crunches.

Parker screams his name so loud Hardison’s ears ring. Or maybe that’s him—maybe that’s him screaming so hard that the taste of blood coats his throat—but it doesn’t matter because Parker’s cut off with a jerk and the comms go dead and they are dead dead dead and— 

The world spins and drops out. The next few hours are black but for agonizing pain. 

His only memory is not of sight or sound or hearing. It’s touch, the thready warmth of two pulses flickering under his fingers. 

They tell him later that he found them in the nick of time: two unconscious bodies collapsed side-by-side in a back alley, and him, clutching their wrists with 911’s number still glowing on the phone beside them. Apparently he rode in the ambulance, because they couldn’t get him away from the other two without restraining him. Every time they tried they feared they’d hurt him. 

What he remembers next is this: waking in a plastic chair, head dizzy (with sedatives, he learns later), an ice-cold knife of grief sunk into his heart and tears coating his cheeks, to the steady paired beeping of twin heart monitors. 

They survive. Miraculously, they survive, somehow with only minimal injuries. Hardison knows it’s only because of the advancements made within the last few years. Three days later they’re out of the hospital and back home, Eliot on crutches and unhappy about it, Parker complaining at length over the stitches in her arm. Hardison can’t even be annoyed by it. They’re here and they’re alive and they’re still here. 

He gives them the evening. But the next day he’s up even before them, spreading papers on the table and making breakfast at the stove (because you learn some things when your husband is a world-class cook) when the two of them come to the table. 

When they ask, he doesn’t bother to soften the blow. This is the last time he’s doing that. They’re done. 

Eliot and Parker look at each other, then at him. They nod. 

He blinks. Just like that? he wonders, and then asks it aloud. 

“We don’t want to hurt you again,” they answer, and his heart could break with relief. 

When he presents the plans they answer with all the joy he had hoped for. They’re worried, of course—will they be fit to care for children?—but Hardison only rolls his eyes and reminds them of Breanna and Josie and Molly and Cory and all the rest, and they relent. 

Two months later they move out to the mansion. It’s a difficult project. Even Hardison didn’t anticipate how long it would be (though Eliot grumbled at him about how much harder this would be than it seemed, dammit, Hardison, what have you gotten us into this time?) but it’s good work, hard work, busy work. He doesn’t have to watch them pace in a hotel room with boredom. There is no angry snapping born of too much time spent sitting around. They work and Hardison blasts music and the other teams chat with them over voice calls. 

Some nights Eliot sits in the central hall, the ceiling four stories above them and laced with Parker’s rigs, and plays new songs for them on his guitar. They all sing along when it’s one they know. The acoustics of the room are perfect for echoing and strengthening their voices. 

Other nights they curl up on a pile of king mattresses spread three-wide and two-deep, blankets heaped high, and whisper stories to one another before falling asleep to the songs of morning birds outside the windows. 

Hardison still wakes screaming. Eliot and Parker do too. But it’s not every other night anymore, and now that they aren’t on jobs, his nightmares begin to recede. 

(Of course there’s always the recurring one that did happen. Sometimes he sleeps with their wrists in his hands or his fingers pressed to their necks, just to reassure himself their hearts are still beating. If Eliot and Parker are still awake, one of them will pull him close and press his ear against their chest, and he falls asleep listening to their heartbeat.) 

Some of the International people show up to help. They come with suggestions and ideas that get put to good use. Breanna delights in helping them pick out the tools for a massive workshop. His other siblings come too, and he puts them to work. Nana is too old for traveling these days (though he knows she’ll outlive them all), but she talks to them over video calls and gives them tips on how to make everything work. 

“How on earth are you going to handle so many kids?” some of them ask. “You’re looking at a school’s worth.” 

The three of them just smile. They’re up to the task—and besides that, there’s a number of people from other crews who are also on the brink of retirement. An entire section of the manor is planned for incoming helpers: they won’t be alone for long.

Finally the mansion is done. Or, well, done enough. It’ll always be a project. There will always be a room that needs repainting, or a sink that breaks out of nowhere and needs repairing, or a piece of roof that’s leaking. But it is more than livable—oh, so beautifully livable, the best home Hardison has ever found for them, filled to the brim with all they could ever want. 

There is a library with shelves that stretch two floors up, filled with more books than he could read in a lifetime and skylights flooding the room with sunlight. The gym has endless features: a dance studio, a martial arts room, weights, gymnastic mats and bars, a goddamn ball pit because Parker loved the idea, and slides to go with it. Eliot has the biggest and best kitchen he could have ever dreamed of. There’s even a walk-in fridge and freezer. 

(“The hell do you expect me to be cooking for, an army?” he asks once, and Hardison laughs. 

“Worse. Kids.”)

 They’ve made the bedrooms a little plainer than usual, though they have rooms filled to the brim with furniture and curtains and decorations of all shapes and sizes. It will be the kids’ home too. They deserve to decorate their own rooms, no matter how long they’ll be staying. 

There are movie rooms, and rooms of pillows and couches and blankets, hidey-holes aplenty (Parker knows them all), games, puzzles, music (Hardison’s pretty sure a band could set up shop in there), art, writing spaces, closets and closets waiting to be filled, bathrooms with tubs big enough to be small pools, a real pool both indoors and out, and Hardison sometimes loses track of what else. They make sure all but some reserve rooms are used and functional. None of them will let this space go to waste. 

Getting everything up to code is a job and a half, but there’s plenty of disabled International people (and Hardison’s siblings too) who give them pointers and let them know who the right people to call are. Hardison delights in picking out elevator music. Eliot informs him that programming them to play The Imperial March every time he uses them is not as funny as he thinks. Parker plans little puzzles in Braille and puts them in all sorts of places. 

She, of course, has rigging all over the place. The high ceilings are her dream. There are hammocks everywhere. Eliot adores the greenhouse and gardens, spending hours mulling over plans and determining precisely what will work best. Hardison watches the lawn service mowing the massive yards and mulls over the best use for them. There are paths aplenty for running and walking. Eliot’s got a whole space mapped out for an orchard. Parker’s claimed a not-insignificant section of it for mazes and a high ropes course (which is going to be godawful hard to build, but he can’t wait to watch the kids on it).

Hardison’s read a lot of books and seen a lot of research supporting animal-raising as an excellent activity for kids. And he’s always wanted a dog.

When they visit the local shelter they end up with three (because Eliot’s a softie for them) and two cats. He plans a chicken coop in the back and goes to long-term planning for more farm-type animals. Parker has come to love horses over the years, and he knows Eliot’s fondness has never faded. Maybe a stable or two. 

Their adoption and foster papers process not long before they’re done. (Hardison technically already had them, but they hadn’t been done the legal way, and though the law is pretty stupid about this whole thing he still wants to do it right.) Then it’s time to get to work. 

They’re careful, of course. They begin with two siblings in the summer. Both are teenagers, that age where it’s hard to get them into a foster home, let alone to adopt. (Of course the three of them aren’t looking for adoption unless the kids want it. They’re human beings: they get to choose their own parents.) Both are quiet and wary, looking overwhelmed as they stare up into the manor’s heights. 

Parker and Hardison exchange glances, wincing. They’d known from experience that this might be tricky.

They start small, relegating everything to a single wing. It’s around the size of an ordinary house, maybe a bit bigger, and while the three of them have their own rooms elsewhere they make sure to sleep nearby. (That’s something else the kids look at them strangely for: there aren’t many polycules who foster kids, after all. There aren’t many polyamorous couples visible in the media period, though that’s changing with Breanna’s generation. )

When Eliot loads one kid’s laundry into the machine (and oh, they need to go shopping so badly for these kids), he finds a worn dress at the bottom of a pile of boy’s clothes. The same kid, he recalls, who had shaken their head a little when he had asked them about haircuts, whose hair was already brushing their shoulders. It’s fraying at the edges, obviously well loved. There’s a hole in the skirt. When he brings the laundry up he takes out the sewing kit (well, a piece of it—there is a truly enormous area of the arts room dedicated to material arts) and makes sure to fix the hole before he puts everything in the closet. The dress goes first and foremost, hung delicately on a special hanger. 

The days go by, the kids become more open, and a routine falls into place. They fill closets with dresses and scarves and put boxes of pins with pronouns in their rooms. Eliot teaches them to chop vegetables and shows them basic self-defense. He helps them walk the dogs, and when he offers they let him teach them meditation. 

Parker takes them to therapy (a tricky conversation, but well worth it) and shows the younger one how to climb. The older one is more interested in puzzles, and she happily complies, bringing out a massive box full to the brim with puzzle-boxes. 

Hardison, for his part, puts together movie nights and video gaming sessions. He shows off the library and makes sure they know where to find everything, as well as the rules of the house. When one of them shows an interest in fandom, he makes sure they know where the cosplay stuff is. One day he starts a DnD campaign with all four of his family members. 

Four becomes five, five becomes seven, the school year begins and some choose homeschooling and others choose public. Homework is done, meals are cooked, dogs are fed, cats are befriended, lightsaber battles play out in the yards and Nerf gun fights are had in the halls (Eliot still prefers a shield), pillow fights go down, tears are cried and arguments ring out in the halls, the fridge doors and pin boards and walls are covered in artwork, kids eight, nine, and ten show up, conversations about queerness are had, a Pride parade is attended, there’s therapy and therapy and so much therapy, sports teams are joined, clubs are attended, problems occur and they handle it, they handle it, they handle it all no matter how hard it is.

Hardison isn’t sure he’s ever seen the other two so happy. He, for one, cannot contain his joy. The children are hard but they are wonderful, bright sparks ready to go out into the world with no one to dim them. 

There is a baby one day that International directs to them. The rest of the kids dote on them. The work is hard, but they manage anyway, and there’s three of them to get up when the little one cries. There is nothing more endearing than watching Eliot asleep with a tiny baby crooked in his arm or Parker carefully climbing with them strapped to her chest. 

One day, as he’s sitting on the porch with the other two at his sides and watching the kids play, he glances to the sides and realizes that his partners have gone fully gray. He himself finds his joints creaking more and more these days. 

The International retirees are doing fantastic and Breanna is the perfect heir to their throne, directing teams with all her brilliance while getting her own work in on the side. She’s mentioned she thinks she might hand it off to one of her own proteges, just so she can go back to some of the old work. 

We built a legacy, he thinks, and then, We built a legacy, and we are here now, and they did not die and leave me here alone, and we are happy. 

He realizes Eliot and Parker are looking at him with that we know what you’re thinking expression. They smile at him when he notices. Parker kisses his cheek and Eliot pulls him closer on the porch swing, and though they say nothing at all, he knows they’re all thinking the same thing: 

We got our happy ending, and we made sure everyone else will too.