#I only wanted to do a impression of the chapter fever and it ends up being a character summary of Claude towards the end of the book

[josh-lanceero]

Fever

[penkura]

last forever [5/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Note: Only three hours late, that's not so bad haha. I had fun with this one, adding in how our couple met, I was going to do it as a flashback but I couldn't get it to work in my head how I wanted, so it's here differently. I'm a little mean to Reader at the end, or, well, Zoro is, but he has his reasons. Things will be okay, I promise.

[Ch. 1] ● [Ch. 2] ● [Ch. 3] ● [Ch. 4]

Honestly, at this point, you shouldn’t be surprised at Zoro’s tendency to get badly injured from his own stupidity at times. Little Garden ended up being more than just an island you all passed through, with giants and more Baroque Works agents, you’d even been caught by Mr. 3 and nearly turned into a wax statue, joining Nami and Vivi shouting at Zoro that he was being an idiot with his threats to cut his own legs off at the ankle to fight the agents there.

You were relieved when Luffy and Usopp showed up, stopping your husband from doing anything ridiculous. Once the four of you had been freed and Sanji showed up, explaining where in the hell he’d been, you grabbed onto Zoro’s shirt, making him look at you while you give him a blank stare.

“…what?”

“Sit down. You need stitches. Again.”

Rolling his eyes, Zoro does listen to you, sitting down nearby the rest of your friends as they discuss your next course of action and Dory and Broggy offer to help you all leave. Vivi comes over and watches you as you stitch up Zoro’s ankles, looking impressed by your quick work and how you don’t even look a bit squeamish about it.

You just shrug when she comments.

“I’ve gotten used to it. This guy’s an idiot—”

“Hey.”

“—so I’ve had to learn to fix him up.”

Vivi laughs a bit and nods, seeming to understand. Once you’ve finished and out your small kit away, you just give Zoro a smile when he quietly thanks you, before you walk back over to the rest of your crew. You hang close to Sanji and it again causes a strange ache in Zoro’s chest, he has to bite his lip to make it stop.

You’ve started spending so much more time with your cook, he should be happy about it, maybe you’re starting to have feelings for Sanji. Some of your free time is now spent in the kitchen, if Zoro walks by he hears you laughing most of the time. The weird feeling in his chest moves to his stomach when he hears you, he’s still not sure if it’s annoyance at you and Sanji getting close or jealousy at the situation.

Shaking his head, Zoro pushes the feelings away and goes to join you all to leave.

What the hell is wrong with me?

+!+

When Nami comes down with a strange illness after you leave, leading to your crew trying to find an island with a doctor, you all take your turns watching over and caring for her. You hope and pray you all reach an island and find a doctor quickly, you don’t want to lose one of your best friends. The boys freaking out about it doesn’t help at all, leaving you and Vivi to really care for Nami and try to help her get better. Every second her fever doesn’t go down scares you, it’s worse if it’s gone up even a tiny bit.

You know nothing about medicine, it’s something your mother thought was useless for you to know. All you needed to know was how to bandage yourself or your future kids up, that’s it. She really treated you like you were made of glass at times, you always wondered if that was due to how late in her life you’d been born. Whatever the reason, you’re happy to help Nami right now, to try and make her feel better.

When you and Vivi switch off one night, instead of heading to bed like you should, you choose to go up to the crow’s nest where Zoro’s taken the first watch of the night. You stopped in the kitchen before heading up to bring something to drink with you, grabbing a coat on the way since you’re in a colder area right now.

Once you make it up the ladder, you poke your head in and give Zoro a smile when he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“Wanna share a drink?”

You aren’t surprised when he seems to light up briefly at the mention of sake, nodding you over to sit by him, handing over the bottle you’d gotten from Sanji while you made yourself comfortable beside Zoro. You’re still not used to the burn of alcohol but still take a big a drink when Zoro hands the bottle to you, passing it back to him. The only reason you started drinking was because Zoro had bet you to do so on your eighteenth birthday, promising you he’d give you money if you did it, so you took a few shots that were given to you, quickly regretting it when you threw it all up outside the tavern you two had been in. He may have lost the bet but at least he was nice enough to hold your hair back and get you to your hotel room without much trouble, and you did get your money a few days later.

“I meant to thank you for the other day.”

“Huh?”

“In Loguetown when we ran into Elias,” Zoro barely looks at you, but you pay him no mind, instead watching the light snow fall against the midnight sky, “For not telling him the truth about, you know, us.”

Shrugging, Zoro takes another swig of drink, before offering it back to you which you decline.

“Wasn’t any reason to tell him. Don’t need him telling your parents the truth.”

“He wouldn’t have, but I get what you mean.”

Zoro nods, partially believing you just from the one meeting with your brother and the things you’ve told him. You were a surprise to your parents, coming along when Elias was ten-years-old, your parents in their late thirties and not planning to have another child. Elias was enthralled with you once you were born, he’d protected you from everything, especially once you turned fifteen and your parents started to sift through possible suitors. According to you, he was pissed when your parents chose someone even older than him, promising he’d never leave you alone with the man and eventually helping you run away in the dead of night.

You two were close despite your age difference.

“You know,” you draw Zoro back to paying attention to you when you speak again, “Taking care of Nami reminds me of how you took care of me when we first met. Remember?”

Your smile as you ask makes him feel like his stomach is doing flips, it must be the alcohol doing that he thinks, but he still nods a bit.

How could he forget that?

You were unexpected to him too, running into a rundown bar so quickly you’d slammed into Zoro, making him grab your arms to keep you upright as you tried to apologize but your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, you don’t even know if actual words came out. You were burning up from a fever and passed out while Zoro kept you upright. The bar owner was nice enough to put you up in a room while you recovered, and he still isn’t sure why he did it, but Zoro took care of you the entire time. Johnny and Yosaku had been there at the same time, helping out by bringing any medicine they thought would help, getting a doctor to come check on you only to confirm you had pneumonia but that you’d be fine after a few more days of medicine and rest.

Once you were better, you were so grateful to the three men that you offered to give them whatever money you had on you, which they all rejected, you definitely needed it more. You kept the truth about why you were running into a bar in your state to yourself, eventually making an offer to Zoro only that you could travel with and help him, but he'd only agree to that if you beat him in a small sparring match, he’d noticed your sword right away.

Of course you lost, but you both had a great time, to the point Zoro let you tag along the last year and a half, he helped you improve your skills and you’re still so grateful to him for everything.

The second you shiver form the cold you’re about to go back down to sleep, before Zoro moves his arm to open the blanket around him and nod you over again.

Smiling again, you scoot over and sit right up beside him, practically flush against his side when he brings his arm back down around you. You’re both used to this, used to coming to each other for simple things like warmth or food, even with the rest of your crew. It’s leftover from when it was just the two of you.

Zoro doesn’t want this to go further past your friendship and being crewmates, not now. Neither of you can or should be thinking about romance, that’s Sanji’s job.

So why does he feel disappointed when you finally go down to the bunks?

+!+

After leaving Drum Island with Nami well and Chopper aboard as your doctor, you’ve started to have a tiny second shadow following you around. The reindeer taking a liking to you right away, starting to follow you around the ship after you’d given him the initial tour. He's started staying close to you and showing you how to make medicine and dress wounds, teaching you more than you ever could’ve imagined knowing.

Chopper has also started bringing you with him to nap with Zoro, your swordsman almost rejecting it at first, before Chopper pulls you to sit beside him while your doctor lays across Zoro’s lap. It makes you laugh as Zoro tries not to have any eye contact with you. Can’t let you see him being all soft and stuff about Chopper now.

You don’t say anything about it, especially once you all make it to Nanohana and do your shopping to find desert and heat safe outfits, though you feel like you’re going to suffocate at times, you’ll be glad to avoid a severe sunburn or heat stroke.

Then you all met Luffy’s big brother Ace.

You remember seeing him in the paper before back home, briefly, the thought in your mind that wow, he’s attractive but it’s not like you’d ever meet him.

The universe laughs at you constantly, you swear, especially when it seems like Ace starts to flirt with you as he joins you all for a bit on your journey to Erumalu. You feel like you have a never-ending blush on your face and it makes Ace laugh when you shove his arm after he says something to you about how shy you seem.

“You’re so cute! I can’t believe you’re on my brother’s crew!”

“Stoooop, you’re making me blush even more!”

You do laugh alongside Ace, he’s easy to be around. Comfortable and almost familiar, you’d say. It reminds you of time spent with Elias, though, without the flirty comments. Ace throws an arm around your shoulders, trying to keep his voice down even though your crewmates are all over the place at this point either partying or sleeping nearby, in Zoro’s case.

“So, you got someone special to you or do I have a chance?”

You hum, pretending to think before giving Ace a smile after you take a sip of your fancy drink Sanji made for you girls.

“Sorry, I got my eyes on someone else.”

“A shot to the heart!” Ace throws his head back as you laugh, double checking that Zoro’s still asleep in case Ace asks you for details, “Just don’t say it’s Luffy, I couldn’t handle losing out to my brother.”

“No, no,” Shaking your head, you watch Ace as he seems to perk back up knowing it’s not your captain you’ve got the hots for, “Definitely not Luffy.”

“Is it a secret then? Promise I won’t tell nobody.”

Ace leans on close to you, your face still warm from either the sun or your blushing you aren’t sure, but the few glances you take towards Zoro tell him the answer, making him grin.

“Ooh him huh? Yeah, I can see it.”

“S-See what??”

“You guys, together. Does he not like you back?”

You wish you hadn’t been so obvious, but you shrug a bit, shake your head, then groan and hide your face behind your drink.

“I…don’t know…he’s not really the romance type.”

Nodding a little, Ace keeps his arm around you and pulls away just a bit, he’s probably making you more nervous that you already were by being so close to your face. He hasn’t known you for more than a day at this point, but he’s been able to see you and Zoro seemingly drawn to each other most of the time, or Chopper does it for shade or to be carried by one of you because of the heat.

Maybe your face is warn more from a blush than from the sun after all.

“I bet he’ll come around. You’re cute, he’d be lucky to have you.”

You almost drop your glass at that.

When Ace leaves you all the next morning, you feel sad at the fact he’s going on his own again, but when Luffy says you’ll all see him again, you agree with a smile. Zoro watches you, wondering how you’d gotten so close to Ace in such a short time, but he realizes that’s just you.

Despite your past with your parents, you trust far too easily at times. Granted, Ace is a good guy, but Zoro worried that it’s going to get you, all of you, into trouble one day.

Though, it’s more likely to be because of Luffy than you.

+!+

Alabasta is finally free from Crocodile a few days later, thanks to your crew and Vivi’s work. You’ve all been granted stay at the palace to recuperate, all of you sustaining major injuries though some were starting to heal faster than others. Luffy spent a couple days sleeping but was now up and ready to party as Alabasta celebrated their freedom.

Your worry for Zoro at the time had kept you attached to his side for the most part, latching onto his arm enough that he’d gone from flinching at the contact to quietly removing your hands from him, he doesn’t want you that attached to him, you get it, kind of.

It still hurts when he does it, Sanji sees it on your face more than anyone else. Zoro had protected you at points during the attacks going on, until you all separated to battle different members of Baroque Works, you ending up trying to stop several of the fights between Alabastan army members and the rebel forces, a few of them not taking that kindly and turning their weapons towards you. Most of your wounds were stabbings or slashes, a deep one on your abdomen that Chopper fixed up no problem.

After you’ve all healed enough to join in the celebrations, that’s just what you do, even with the Navy around. Sanji drags you along to dance with him, trying to keep you distracted from Zoro, though you gravitate towards him anyway. It’s like in Cocoyashi, you just lean against the wall Zoro’s placed himself at, giving a smile while you talk to him, brushing your arm against his whether by accident or on purpose. You’ve brought him another drink too, it makes Sanji scrunch his face in annoyance, only because it seems like Zoro just doesn’t care, like he’s that oblivious to your crush on him.

And maybe he is, the blond isn’t sure, even when you look a bit dejected and return to his side for a just moment, to tell him you’re going back to the palace to up to rest for a bit. You’ve gotten tired from the party and need a few minutes. Sanji promises to come get you after a little while, which you thank him for as you leave.

He has a half a mind to tell Zoro to go with you, but by the time he looks back, the swordsman is gone.

+!+

“Why are you up here?”

You hum a but, turning and giving Zoro a smile. Yes it was late, normally you'd be asleep, but Alabasta was still awake, having a party to celebrate the end of the their war and the rain returning to the country. You had chosen to return to the palace, watching your crewmates outside the window. Luffy and Usopp were celebrating in disguises to keep the Navy off your tails, Nami was laughing with Vivi, Chopper and Karoo nearby asleep, and you haven't seen Sanji or even Zoro until now, when your favorite swordsman found you.

“Just…wanted to rest a bit.”

Understanding, Zoro nods a bit, leaning against the wall beside you, arms crossed over his chest while he watches you.

You know that he heard you talking to Ace when he was with you all, telling him you've developed feelings for your legal husband. Honestly he's had his suspicions for a while, mainly after you all left Drum Island and you acted so odd at times, but he never wanted to confront you about it before.

It was harmless, a crush didn't mean you really believed the two of you would be a couple or anything. Despite your actually being married, since it wasn't meant to last forever, he figured he'd leave you be and maybe your feelings would fade over time. You spent a lot of time with Sanji, Zoro fully expects at one point for you to bring the annulment papers to him, saying you liked the blond or that your parents finally responded to you.

Neither of those have happened, and seeing your constant smiles and little blushes at him, Zoro feels the need to say something about it.

"Listen."

Zoro sounds so serious you can't help but sit up straighter, keeping your gaze on the still partying city outside the palace, but you nod to let him know you're listening.

"Whatever…this is between us," he's staring right at you, but you don't dare to look at him, knowing what he's going to say, "it's not going any further than our being crewmates. Whatever feelings you may have, I'm not returning them any time soon. We need to focus on our goals and helping Luffy, not romance. Got it?"

Despite the ache in your chest at that, you nod, the softest agreement coming out of your mouth in return. You knew this was coming, from the way Zoro started to distance from you after your time on Drum Island and the recent events in Alabasta, you could tell something was up and you guess this was it. Zoro was trying to put a stop to your feelings for him, he couldn't be caught playing romance with you right now, maybe never.

Of course, even with your half-hearted agreement, you know feelings can't be squashed so easily. You don't want to stop them, but Zoro wants you to so you can focus on your goals. You weren't going to become a world renowned swordswoman if you were busy focusing on a relationship with someone. Zoro would never become the greatest swordsman in the world if he was focused on you.

When he finally leaves you alone, you can't help yourself and the quietest tears start. You knew this was going to happen, Zoro doesn't like you back, he’s only still married to you because you haven't heard a thing from your parents, but damn it still hurts to basically get a rejection like this.

It feels worse when Sanji comes into the room a few minutes later, having kept his promise on bringing you back down to the party with him, and he knows you've been crying without having to see your face. He wants to go after and curse out Zoro for making you cry, whatever the reason, but chooses to quietly pull you into a hug instead, telling you that you don't have to say anything, but he's here for you.

Honestly, having Sanji around, someone who was willing to listen to you and just let you cry over something that felt stupid at the time, you felt like things would be okay after some time.

Even when he says he'll kill Zoro for making you cry once you tell him why.

[starfall-spirit]

Read on Ao3 // Chapter I

Summary: After one last screaming match and a good cry, Feyre is finally ready to move on from her lousy ex and rebuild the life he took her away from. She didn't imagine she'd be right back in the thick of it, reviving buried feelings for her best friend's cousin.

OR;

Feyre dumps Tamlin, moves back to big city life, and gets herself an alpha who will treat her right.

AN: The ending of my short fic for @whatishowedyouinthedark

CW: Somnophilia, breeding kink

Chapter II

Hot. Sticky. Aching. Heavy.

And oh so full. 

That made the rest of it bearable—enough so that she could settle again, drifting into a half-there daze. “That’s it,” she heard from somewhere far away. Felt her hips lift to rest on something soft. Another stretch, the catch of a knot. She couldn’t mask her whimper—tried to push back to meet the feeling.

A calloused hand pressed into the small of her back. “Shh. Lay still, darling. Let me take care of you. Get this fever down.”

A fever.

Feyre’s heat had been relentless. Between the constant hot flashes and pains with only one cure and the utter destruction of her sleep cycle, they’d both hoped the intensity would fade through the remainder of her heat, but she knew after coming into her designation nearly five years ago that it was wishful thinking.

The one mercy through it all was that her body was physically drained enough for her internal clock to push back a couple of hours, granting them both a bit more rest than they expected. Of course that just meant she woke to find herself sweating out a fever.

And now… now Rhys seemed to be taking care of it. Taking care of her. She really shouldn’t put so much stock in an alpha’s actions again, but it wasn’t exactly easy to dismiss the fact that he was helping her, if only for the week. She doubted longterm was in the books for him and wouldn’t open herself to get hurt by assuming as much. It was too risky.

His hand glided up her spine to clamp down on the back of her neck at the same moment he gave a sharp thrust into her. Whining, she gripped the pillow beneath her. “Stop thinking so hard, pet. All you need to do right now is take.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“You can and you will. You don’t need to think, you don’t need to act, and you don’t get to resist this.” He leaned down close by her ear, his long fingers tangling in her roots so he could angle her head slightly. “You want to be good for your alpha? To please me?” She nodded. “Words,” he scolded.

“Yes, alpha. I want to please you.”

He chuckled. “So eager, pet. If you want to please me, you’ll stop overthinking this. I intend to keep you, Feyre. To mate you, mark you so no one dares to think you’re searching for an alpha again. You are mine,” he snarled. “That’s the only fact I want floating in your pretty little head right now. Understand?”

His tongue dragged up the length of her neck before his mouth returned to its center, teeth pinching down on the tender flesh just tight enough to leave an impression. Feyre clenching the sheets tighter, part of her itching to feel him clamp down and break skin. She wanted his bite desperately, she realized. The little crush she had suppressed in the years he was away had rapidly bloomed to something greater after their reunion and with her hormones skyrocketing—

There was a sharp nip at her ear and she jerked in surprise. “I asked you a question, Feyre.”

“Yes. I understand.” He pinched her thigh. “Alpha.”

“Good girl.” 

The lazy roll of his hips began to pick up again, the drag of his knot in and out of her near torturous. Still, she knew better than to try to push back into the feeling now. “Look at my sweet girl,” Rhys crooned, his free hand falling to stroke her clit. Feyre’s eyes fluttered shut as the new attention brought her that much closer to the edge. “So pretty when you’re cockdrunk, Feyre. I’m gonna have to keep you filled up, aren’t I? Keep this hot little cunt nice and full with my cum.”

“Yes. Please, Rhys.”

“I’d have to start working from home,” he continued. “Keep you right here in this nest until I know you’re good and bred.” She could only manage a choked sound, hips jerking back on instinct. “Oh yes, I think that’s just what we’ll do, pet.”

“Rhys—” But she didn’t need to finish the thought, as he seemed to read her mind, latching down where her neck met her shoulder at the same time his knot swelled inside of her once again. She wailed in frustration as she came. Though she had found the release she was desperate for, though she was happy he had marked her, the position he had put her in was infuriating, depriving her of the privilege of marking him in return until he was able to pull out. 

Sensing her unease even as she quieted, Rhys purred, leaving just enough weight on her for the pressure to soothe. “Want to mark you too.”

“I know, darling. Soon.” Several minutes later, he drew back, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “Let me run the shower for you,” he murmured. “Then I’ll make breakfast.”

“Rhys.”

“I’ve known I’ve wanted you for years, Feyre. Rejected any other match my father threw at me because I knew you were the only one I’d ever come to feel something for. You just broke up with your ex. If the marking isn’t mutual then my bite will fade in a few days. Don’t rush a decision so permanent if you aren’t ready to make that call.” 

She frowned, but nodded, remaining silent when he left the room to start the adjoining shower. She wasn’t quite sure how to take any of this, if she was being honest. The man had gone from claiming he wanted her marked for others to see and knocked up with his baby to now saying he had no interest in rushing things. Maybe she wasn’t ready for everything he’d suggested moments ago, but she was still confident in where this would be starting. She knew what she wanted, didn’t she?

“It’s ready,” Rhys called over the sound of the shower and vent. “You can test it yourself, of course. I’m going to start breakfast.”

She grimaced. “If you wait, I can help you fix something.”

“That’s alright, darling. I’ve got it under control.”

A new idea sparked and she reached out to guide him by the hand, taking a step backwards towards the standing shower. “What if I need your help here first?”

He gave a strained chuckle, seeming almost surprised by the invitation. “In that case.” He followed her under the spray, reaching for the bottle of shampoo shelved on the wall and starting a lather he could work into her tangled hair. His fingers teased her scalp with each pass and she shivered under his touch. “Feel good?” he asked, guiding her head back before rinsing it to apply the conditioner.

“I’ve always enjoyed people playing with my hair. There wasn’t much in the way of intimacy in my childhood. At least my sisters and I had that much in the mornings. For a while. We got older and… drifted.”

Rhys hummed softly, but didn’t pick at the old wound she’d revealed, moving on to clean her body. Every motion was damn near perfunctory, scrubbing her clean of sweat, semen, and God knew what else. And yet the steady motions of his hands, the tenderness of every stroke that was so at odds with this morning’s claiming—it was its own sort of intimacy, sacred in its own right.

“Can I…”

Giving her a soft smile, Rhys ducked his head enough she could return the favor, first tending to his hair, then the hard planes that made up his god-like form. He seemed to wind a little tighter with every touch. Still, he remained a perfect gentleman. That was until she slid to her knees, her hand closing over his hardening length. “Feyre, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Rhys?” Dipping her head, she flicked her tongue along his slit, tristing his broader form would continue to block the water from hitting her. “You told me last night I’d get a taste of you too and you’ve yet to deliver on that. My pleasure doesn’t always have to come first, you know.”

“Darling,” he groaned.

But she already had her mouth around him, hollowing her cheeks and taking the first few inches, slowly working the rest with her hand. A jagged breath rushed out of him when she shifted forward, taking him deeper. One hand was braced on the wall, the other half-open and hovering just over her head as if he was determined not to touch her yet. Another inch and he cracked, jaw clenched tight, one hand stroking through her wet hair before twisting into the dark strands and sweeping his thumb across the back of her head in a soothing stroke. “Good girl,” he crooned. He always seemed to know just what she was waiting for. “So precious, trying to take care of your alpha.” 

This time he was the one to push closer, easing in until he nudged the back of her throat. Tears stung her eyes even with the gentle shift, but she managed to suppress her gag, taking a greedy breath when he drew back a moment later, raw pleasure scrawled across his handsome face. 

Something like pride fluttered to life inside of her at the sight of it, and she was eager to be the cause of it again. “God,” he hissed. “I knew this sweet little mouth was going to be the death of me.” Rolling his neck, he seemed to master himself enough to take control of the situation with a little more clarity. Rocking his hips, he stroked his thumb across her jaw on one side, accentuating the ache there. Though he smiled down at her, there was an edge to it that brought her focus back. “It was wrong of me to tease you so long, wasn’t it, darling? You told me from the beginning what you really needed. Now look at you.” Another sweep of his thumb and she shivered, feeling the smear of her own drool across her cheek. “Daddy’s cock made it all better, didn’t it?”

A violent shudder racked her body and he chuckled, but didn’t make any remark on it. Enough had been said through action and reaction alone. “Hands on your thighs, little one.” Cupping her face, he increased his pace, growling out a sharp curse when her lips slid back from her teeth, tapping her cheek in reprimand even as she watched the edge of pain light something in him. Still, the sharp thrust to follow caught her off guard, hands flying up. “No. You’re fine, pet. Breath through it.”

Though it took her a moment, she was able to master herself. Though she was disappointed by the lack of verbal praise, the look in his eyes as he brushed her tears away was enough—especially when that silver tongue of his finally seemed to be tied.

Keeping one hand locked in her hair, the other fell to wrap around the base of his cock. “I’m getting close, pet.” Feyre swallowed around him and he cursed, low and nasty. It pleased her all the more. “Cheeky thing. You gonna swallow Daddy’s cum, darling?” She whimpered around him. "I thought so. My perfect little omega. Always eager so please, aren’t you?”

Retreating just an inch, Rhys spilled onto her tongue, watching as she took every drop of it before pulling back until he slipped from her lips. “Perfect,” he repeated, voice barely audible over the pounding of the water above them. Reaching out, he wiped his thumb across the excess at the corners of her mouth, easing the digit between her parted lips in a silent demand and giving a low growl when her tongue swirled over the pad of it. 

“Good girl.” With that he hauled her back to her feet, clearly aiming to kiss her. But Feyre had already ducked her head, teeth latching onto his pectoral and clamping hard enough to break skin. He barked in surprise, but she barely heard it, lost in the taste of him—the feeling of that bond blooming. 

Alpha and omega, it seemed to sing. Two halves of a perfect whole. Man and woman, partner and friend. Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate.

There was a tangle of thought and emotion, far too chaotic to be solely hers, no matter how lost she was to the flourishing bridge binding their souls. “Feyre,” he groaned. “My mate.” She pulled back, panting against his neck. “Darling, you realize—”

“I want this," she told him, pulling his head down until their lips nearly brushed. “I know I said I didn’t want an alpha for a while, but I’ve always wanted you. When you left for New York...” 

His lips twitched upwards. “You were barely out of high school, just exploring your designation.”

“I knew what I wanted. But you left and I met Tamlin. I let myself be charmed by the first alpha I acquainted myself with, moved across the country. I convinced myself I didn’t regret it. That I had something good enough. But good enough isn’t enough anymore. So I’m here. And I’m taking what I want. For good.”

He tilted her chin slightly, granting her a soft, lingering kiss that sent their bond singing once again. “Breakfast, Feyre. Then we’ll discuss what you’ve staked your claim on.”

Biting her lip, she reached past him to shut off the water. “Better you show me, I think.”

~~~~~

“I’m right here, you know?” Feyre blinked, sliding her eyes back to Mor who sat beside her at the kitchen nook just off the main room where Rhys stood over the stove making them all dinner. Her friend scoffed, though it almost seemed good-natured. “I’m thrilled for you guys, don’t get me wrong. But could you maybe not eye fuck my cousin while I’m trying to have a conversation with you?”

She blushed, ignoring the soft chuckle she heard from the kitchen. Feyre’s heat had broken nearly a week ago, yet she and Rhys were still finding themselves nearly insatiable. Hell, just this morning he’d had her spread out on the very table she sat at. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“I’m mostly teasing. I’m so happy you came home and got your head on straight about—”

“We aren’t discussing him, Mor. It’s done, I’m mated, and that’s the end of it.”

Her friend nodded, sipping from her wine glass. “Good. So, tell me about the studio you found.”

“It was so much easier to reconnect than I thought it would be. I thought I’d be starting from the ground up, but even with the new space I’m hearing from old patrons.” She sighed. “Things are looking up, even with…”

“What?”

She bit her lip, fingering the stem of her glass. “My sister called. She caught wind of my starting up my studio here somehow. She wants to meet for breakfast. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? Trying to mend bridges.”

“No, Feyre. I don’t think that would hurt a thing.”

~~~~~

Taglist: @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug - Chapter One

Summary: Since joining the team, Wanda Maximoff has captured all of your attention, even if she has no idea about this. In a six-part story, you'll do your best to give her everything she needs and maybe she never thought she deserved it. Along the way, you two might end up realizing you were in love with each other the whole time.

Warnings: (+18), Friends to lovers, smut in the last few chapters, slow burn, conversations about self-love and individual worth, mentions of anxiety, past trauma, avengers being a family, canon-fix, a lot of magic. Words: 3.484k.

General Masterlist || Series Masterlist || AO3 || Wattpad

--//--

Chapter One - Wanda Maximoff needs a friend

You had a cold.

It was unusual, given your abilities, so it made sense that you insisted that the Avengers do not change the mission schedule because of this, and consequently made you more vulnerable on a mission that should have been easy.

The result was that you now had a cold and a bullet mark on your waist. Everyone was extremely worried, but you assured them that you were fine and that none of them needed to worry about someone literally unshakable, and this alone explained why you had a high fever all by yourself in a tower.

Well, all alone was not correct. There was another avenger, the new recruit, who was not yet on the mission list, and well, she was the one who found you stumbling around in the kitchen at dawn.

Wanda was sure that you hated her. It was a very forward first impression, of course, but she couldn't help but assume that you had some sort of problem with her by the way you behaved around her. Because of this, even though you were sick, she hesitated to approach you.

"Are you okay?"

You hum, forcing a laugh and ignoring all the pain that was spreading throughout your body like needles. "Of course. I just wanted to get something to eat." It was not your intention to be harsh, but the response made Wanda lower her gaze.

"Right." She murmured, her gaze watching your clumsy movements as you moved to get some water. "Are you sure you...?"

But her question was interrupted by your momentary loss of consciousness. 

There was something else about Wanda that she hated - her powers. And you couldn't understand why, since that scarlet energy was warm and prickly on your skin and sure was more comfortable than slamming against the counter or the kitchen floor. Her magic held you upright, and suddenly there were soft hands on your face. "Y/N! Hey! sranje (shit)! You're burning up with fever." You heard her words loosely, not having the strength to resist even a little being carried to the couch in the living room.

Wanda used her powers to lay you down, and you only blinked away the fever when cold towels were placed on your head.

"Maybe you should see a doctor." She suggests clearly concerned, but you giggle.

"They wouldn't know how to treat a god."

Wanda snorts softly. "Is that what you refer to yourself as? So presumptuous." She teases, and you smile with your eyes closed, the attempt to shrug makes you whimper in pain and brings a worried expression to her. "I'll call Thor, maybe he'll..."

"I'll be fine, Wanda." You interrupt her, with difficulty, bringing a hand up to her wrist that holds the towel against your neck. "It's just a cold. I haven't caught one of those since childhood, that's probably why I'm so miserable." You explain, and Wanda gives you a small smile.

You struggle to stay conscious with the high fever, and Wanda takes advantage of these moments to call Natasha.

"She's burning up with fever, Nat. I don't know what to do, is there any medicine in this place?"

The widow sighs on the other end of the line. "Damn, I swear she is the most stubborn person I know. I think there's something in Bruce's lab, made for her. Look up her name."

"Thanks. Good luck on the mission. Come back safe." The widow smiled affectionately, saving the teasing about Wanda's gentleness for another moment before muttering her goodbyes.

Wanda gave one last check on your figure - your face covered by a wet towel as you grumbled in pain - before leaving the room. She didn't linger long in the lab, and also took some aspirin from Tony's cabinet. 

But when Wanda tried to make you take the meds, you pushed her hand away.

"Oh, oh, what's that?" She rolled her eyes impatiently at your question.

"This is to ease your fever and pain. You need-"

"I'm not taking any pills." You retort seriously, and when she sees almost the panic in your eyes, Wanda hesitates. 

"It's just aspirin..."

You force yourself to sit up, complaining a little. "I don't use medicine. Leave me alone to die."

She chuckles incredulously. "That's so dramatic for a god." She teases, but you pout. Wanda thinks it's unfair that you look so adorable.

"I don't need medicine." You insist. "I just need a good night's sleep and food. I'll be brand new."

But once you got back on your feet, your body failed you again. Wanda sighed in a complaint, scarlet magic working on instinct and keeping you from falling to the floor before bringing you back to the couch.

"I'll get blankets for you." She mutters to your delirious figure, before leaving the room.

When she returns, you have taken the aspirin she left on the table, and it makes her smile slightly.

"Here, dorogoy." She says as she covers you, and you blink tired eyes at her.

"That's sweet." You say, to which Wanda mumbles confusedly, "The nickname. Natasha taught me Russian, you know."

Wanda can feel her face heat up, but she manages to laugh it off. "Sorry." She murmurs, and it's your turn to look at her with confusion.

"For what?"

Wanda sighs lightly. "I shouldn't...I don't know. You and I, we're not really... close." She tries to put it into words, it's a bad job, and maybe that's why you're so indignant.

"What? What are you talking about?"

Wanda huffs impatiently, feeling her face warm up even more. "You don’t need to be nice about it, I know you're not exactly a fan of me." She blurts out then. "I understand. It took everyone a while to trust me after Ultron."

You ignore the pain to sit up straight, gesturing in denial. "Wanda, that's ridiculous. I think you're the coolest Avenger here! Excluding Nat of course, otherwise, she will break my face." You declare, and she widens her eyes in surprise.

"What...? Really?" She asks unsurely, and you give her a reassuring smile.

"Where did you get the idea that I didn't like you?" 

"B-because you're always tormenting me! And you're so...direct..."

"Yeah, I'm sincere!" You retort with a laugh. "I'm sorry if I... come off as too abrupt for you. I don't have a very good social cue. War veterans don't care much for it, and Tony, well, deserves to hear some raw truths. I'll try to be sweeter with you. And well, about tormenting? You're too easy. And I do that with all my friends."

Wanda giggles nervously, twiddling her fingers. "Do you see me as a friend?"

You chuckle again, raising an eyebrow at her. "And how else would I see you?" You tease suggestively, and she feels her face warm. You chuckle at her shyness. "See, too easy."

She huffs, pushing you away gently, and grimaces apologetically at the grunt of pain you let out. But you laugh it off, assuring her that you're fine. 

"Now that we've made it clear that we're friends, can you put on something for us to watch? I've been dying to invite myself over to watch sitcoms with you but you've been avoiding me..."

Wanda blushes at the attention and clears her throat. "You could have joined me whenever you wanted. I wouldn't mind...I would have enjoyed the company. Vision does that sometimes."

You grimace softly. "That nosy old can."

She chuckles confusedly. "What's your problem with Vision?"

You make a grumpy face. Adorable, Wanda would say.

"He's annoying, that's all." You say. "I don't trust machines. You wouldn't trust them either if you had been raised by one."

Wanda bites her lip hesitantly. Everything she knows about your past-all the Hydra experiments and your unusual childhood with what was once Dr. Arnim Zola - came from reports and television. You were more than Captain America or the Winter Soldier ever were. You were the Hydra's Angel of Steel. Unyielding, unstoppable, and immortal.

The last part, Wanda wasn't sure was true. Especially since you are burning up with a fever on the couch.

"Vision is not like Hydra. He's not like anyone I know really." Wanda comments, but your grimace increases and she doesn't understand why.

"Okay, I get that you and he are super friends." You sneer, and she laughs, shaking her head.

"I wouldn't say that." She mumbles suddenly half sad, looking down at her lap. "I wouldn't...I wouldn't say I have any friends."

You frown immediately. "What, but what about the Avengers?"

She chuckles humorlessly, looking at you with a certain irony. "We're co-workers, Y/N. We barely know each other, and I'm only here because I literally don't have a home country anymore. I think it's all more out of convenience, or pity."

"It's not pity." You insist by shrugging. "You're young, but you're no innocent child. No one feels sorry for someone as strong as you. It would even be disrespectful. I think everyone is kind of grateful and relieved that you fight with us and not against us."

Wanda stands thoughtfully over your words, an indecipherable expression on her face. You haven't lied, you really are sincere. She appreciates that. You shudder briefly, the fever still lingering.

"I think you need friends, Wanda." You murmur then, half drowsy. Wanda thinks it's the medication. "I would be your friend if you wanted me."

She smiles warmly. "I would love that." She murmurs, and you smile with your eyes closed. But you struggle to stay awake, and your hand searches for Wanda's on the couch.

"Keep me company. Put something on the TV, to entertain you."

"You're kind of bossy, aren't you?" She teases, and you chuckle lightly, feeling exhaustion catch up with you. But Wanda only releases your hand when she's sure you're completely asleep.

–//–

When you wake up, it is morning. 

And you know that Wanda has slept on the couch next to you from the blankets and pillows. There is a sitcom paused on the living room television, and the smell of food invades your senses all at once, effectively waking you up.

"Good morning, Wanda." You greet her in a gruff tone, in a half yawn, and she would have been startled if she didn't have telepathy and couldn't feel you awake from the first second.

She turns her face away from the stove and smiles at you. "Good morning, Y/N. How are you feeling?"

You shrug, moving closer to see what she was cooking. "Better, I guess. A little sore still." You murmur, leaning over her to spy the pan. "Hmm, that looks good. And it smells wonderful." You rest your chin on her shoulder. "So does the food." 

Wanda drops her spoon in shock, completely flushed, and you burst into laughter, stepping away at once to get juice from the refrigerator while muttering "too easy."

Her face remains hot for a good ten minutes. You pay no mind to it and thank her for the food when it is ready.

"I think I'll go back to sleep, my head is hurting."  You comment, and Wanda nods.

"Take more meds, they help with the fever." She instructs, but you grumble. She raises an eyebrow. "Please?"

That makes you smile. "Since you asked so nicely." You tease, grabbing the medicine box her magic brought to you. Wanda twitches her nose and hesitates softly before asking.

"What's your problem with pills?" You lick your lips, taken aback by the question. She swallows dryly. "Sorry, I'm being nosy."

"No, don't worry about it." You say quickly, smiling at her. "It's just that Zola used to keep a strict pill diet with me. No real food, you know? I was a weapon, a soldier, not a person to them. I don't like the feel of swallowing pills, it reminds me of... those days."

Wanda reaches out for your wrist, stroking the skin lightly. "I'm really sorry, Y/N." She says, and you nod. She feels the need to confess something, too, and murmurs, "I don't like needles these days. Because of Hydra. Before, I couldn't wait to turn eighteen and get tattoos. But now, just the thought of piercing my skin reminds me of their tests, and I just-"

You interrupt her monologue by raising her hands to the height of your face. Her breath hitches as you kiss her palms, staring into her eyes.

"They took a lot of things from us, but we got something powerful in return." You murmur, kissing her left palm again. "I'm really sorry for all the pain they caused you, Wanda. But this here is a beautiful thing about you now."

She knows you are talking about her magic, and she feels her ears chatting fire like her cheeks. Her instinctive action is to retract her hands, but you firm your grip gently. "I don't see it as a blessing." She mutters, avoiding your eyes. "I just... hurt people."

You interlace your fingers, and Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. You don't look away from her. "Hurting others is what they taught us, but we are more than that. You need to trust that you can be more. I see that you are already."

"I'm not sure about that." She confesses in a soft snort, but you don't shy away, holding your hands together.

"It's okay, I can show you." You assure her with a soft smile. "That's what friends are for, right?"

She relishes the possibility of not being alone anymore but somehow feels that her smile is almost forced. She doesn't understand what bothers her. It's nice to have friends.

You let go of her hands suddenly, because you both hear the sound of the quinjet outside the Compound. 

Offering a farewell wink, you leave the room to go rest as you promised, and Wanda is left to explain about the sketchy of a slumber party in the living room to a curious black widow that came back from a mission.

–//–

You feel better in a day or two and are annoyingly charming when you brag about your quick recovery to the team. Wanda doesn't back down and jokes around about seeing you whimpering in pain on the couch, eliciting a few laughs from the other members.

You do not mind - You are happier to see her comfortable and friendly with the rest of the team to care about the teasing.

Wanda's training is different from yours, her powers are more unstable, and she lacks confidence in using them. And since you are the stronger member to take the damage, you offer to practice together.

"That's not a good idea. I don't want to hurt you." She declares with training gloves and an unsure expression as you appear in the outer courtyard, dismissing Natasha with a nod as if the whole story has already been talked over between you two.

You chuckle indignantly. "That's quite unlikely, darling. Relax, take a deep breath, and bring it all on. I want to see how much power you hold back."

Wanda looks at Nat unsure, but the widow shrugs, nodding in encouragement and taking a few steps back to stay out of range. Good thing you guys are on the outside.

"Come on, Wanda. I trust you." You say looking into her eyes, a few feet in front of her, waiting for the impact.

She swallows dryly, trembling hands raised toward you. "That's a terrible idea." She murmurs again, though she throws a small blast against your chest. It makes you chuckle.

"It tickles." You comment smugly. "Come on, Maximoff. You can do better than that. Again."

She sighs and tries. It's bigger, but still, you don't get out of place. And to irritate her, on your next attempt, you hold the energy ball with one hand. 

"You call this an attack, princess? I'm almost disappointed." Wanda knows that you are just trying to get to her, and you are succeeding because the next one is strong enough to shake the yard and make curious Avengers leave the building to watch the training.

You, however, just adjust your feet on the ground. Her power has hit you hard, and your eyes are the same color as her magic.

"Damn, that was... better." You praise with a breathless laugh, and Wanda swallows dryly, adjusting her position. You let her magic flow through your body until you are controlling it in your hand as well. "If I give it back, would it hurt you?"

"I don't think so."

"Get ready then." You ask, and she takes a deep breath, nodding in permission. You strike, returning her energy, and Wanda braces herself for pain, but it does not come. Her magic doesn't hurt her, even if it comes from you.  It makes you smile. "Lovely. Are you taking notes, Nat?"

The widow, who Wanda had forgotten was present having been so wrapped up in the training, rolls her eyes slightly. She has a tablet in hand. "Of course I am, boss." Ironizes Nat, making you laugh. 

"Wanda, your power doesn't hurt you. That's interesting because it could mean that it's not purely stone magic like mine or Vision's. If we get hit by our energies, we get hurt. Maybe your abilities are innate, and the stone just has awakened them. It's too early to tell, however."

Wanda shifts the weight of her feet, half uncertain of what to say. She is honestly, quite surprised that simple training provided such an important insight. Natasha whistles impressed.

"Sometimes I forget how smart you are, Y/N. It must be because you're a pain in the ass most of the time." Teases Romanoff, receiving a giggle and a middle finger.

"Fuck off! " You retort laughing before assuming a fighting stance again. "Wanda, how about you try to take me down now?"

She sighs, fists in the air. "You may be annoying, but I still don't want to hurt you." She taunts, managing to make Nat laugh and you let out a cute gasp of exclamation.

"See, Nat? She likes me." You scoff, and Wanda knows she's blushing, so she forces her magic against you, this time at your feet. You lose your balance, but only for half a second before you effectively absorb her spell. Wanda finds the scarlet color in your irises oddly attractive but pushes the thought away immediately. "No, no. Use the setting to your advantage, Maximoff. Knock me down, without bewitching me."

She sighs but looks down at the ground. Her next attack is on the ground, but just when she thinks you are going to fall, you float before using the rubble as steps and spin majestically in the air before falling in front of her, standing up.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "Show-off." She mutters, but You don't pay mind to her, giving Wanda's shoulder a gentle pat.

"Great move, Wands, but your response time is bad." You say. "I made all my way to you and you kept looking at me with that cute little face. You can't do that on the battlefield, yes?"

She blushes, but she giggles and pushes you away gently. She's not thinking about the nickname, and she's not thinking about the compliment, she's not. 

She tries to fight for real after that, following your instructions and ending up out of breath with her hands on her knee after almost three hours of training.

You are sitting on the floor now, as sweaty and out of breath as she is, but with a proud smile on your face that makes her stomach churn with anxiety.

"You're a talent, Maximoff." You compliment her sincerely. "We'll make you an Avenger yet."

"I'm already part of the team." She recalls stubbornly, only to see your expression twitch adorably. 

"You know my point."

"I think you're being a bit of a patronizer. Don't you agree Nat?" 

The widow hums in agreement immediately, only to torment you as Wanda is doing, both of them reveling in the almost desperate expression on her face.

"What? No, I'm not!" You defend yourself indignantly until you realize it's a joke. "Ha-ha, very funny. You two are hilarious. I'm here being a good teacher and you're making fun of me."

Wanda chuckles, dismantling your whole moody posture as she helps you stand with a tug and doesn't let go of your hand, face way too close for someone with an audience.

"Thanks for the help, detka. I really appreciate it." She thanks you by looking you in the eye, and you swallow dryly, nodding stupidly. All too aware of the proximity and Nat's presence with a teasing smile for the scene.

Wanda gives you a wink, muttering something about lunch before letting you go. You barely register her words, scolding yourself for noticing how pretty she looks in her training uniform.

Stupid thoughts, honestly.

[purrincess-chat]

In Breakable Heaven CH1

It's @ladrienjune yall!

And I know what you're all thinking

But I finally wrote something! One chapter of a thing. For now, but more will be coming, I promise! As I mentioned previously, I am moving for the next couple weeks, but I will hopefully have some down time to write here and there. I also still need to plan the ending for this fic, but shhhhh that's future Cat's problem ;) Anywho, here's the beginning of a Ladrien secret-dating adventure. Enjoy~

This chapter covers days 6, 7, and 8 (social media, jealousy, and biggest fan respectively).

Read on AO3

Rating: G

Summary:

When Adrien wins a contest on the Ladyblog, he catches the attention of Ladybug herself and scores more than just an opportunity to hang out with her. Caught in a fever dream high, the two lovebirds try to navigate their budding relationship away from the public eye and find that keeping secrets is a lot harder than they anticipated. Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn't kill them makes them want each other more, and they'll do whatever it takes to stay in breakable heaven.

Chapter 1

“You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes”

“Alright, Bugheads, now onto the big announcement! With summer holidays coming up, I thought it would be a fun time to host a little contest, and ask the question: How well you know our resident superheroine? I’ve created a quiz that only the most die-hard fans will be able to pass because the stakes on this one are high. The person with the highest score will get to spend an afternoon with Ladybug! And don’t worry, this was approved by the head bug herself! Details for entry are listed below. Best of luck to all of you, and don’t forget to stay connected!”  Alya’s cheery lilt ended on Adrien’s computer screen, and he leaned back in his chair.

“A whole afternoon with Ladybug?” He swooned.

“What’s the big deal? You already spend every afternoon with her.” Plagg hovered over Adrien’s head with a wedge of cheese.

“Yeah, when we’re fighting bad guys,” Adrien said pointedly. “She never wants to spend time with me outside of work. This could be my chance to finally see a movie with her.”

“What’s the appeal of seeing a movie anyway? You just sit next to each other in silence for several hours. The only plus is the buttery popcorn with its salty, crunchy, oily goodness...” Plagg shoved the cheese into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “On second thought, why don’t you and I go see a movie? I’m much better company.”

Adrien rolled his eyes and clicked the leaderboard in the comments of Alya’s post. Someone had already gotten a decently high score on the quiz, only a few points away from perfect. A few scrolls down, the same username popped up again, and Adrien’s grip tightened on his mouse.

ladybugsfuturebf: Good luck beating my score! Only Ladybug herself could score higher. Can’t wait to spend one-on-one time with her on our date!

“Who does this guy think he is? A date? Ladybug’s future boyfriend? Before me?” Adrien scoffed.

“Need I remind you, the contest is to win a chance to hang out with her, not date her,” Plagg said.

What kind of flowers do you think she likes? Oh, wait! I already answered that on the quiz! She’s gonna be so impressed she’ll forget all about Chat Noir.

Adrien’s teeth ground together. There was no way such a boastful, arrogant person was in the lead. And forget about him? Please, he was Ladybug’s best friend! No one knew her better than him. He could ace that quiz in no time.

“What are you doing?” Plagg sighed as Adrien clicked the entry form.

“Oh, come on, Plagg. I can’t let that guy win! If anyone is going to win a date with Ladybug, it’s me! I know her better than anyone,” Adrien said.

Plagg floated down in front of his face. “And you don’t think it’s going to be a problem if you get a perfect score? Let’s just broadcast to the world that you’re Chat Noir!”

“I’m not that dense, Plagg.” Adrien waved him out of the way. “I’ll sign up with a fake email and username. No one will ever know Adrien Agreste won.”

Pursing his lips, he tapped the keys of his keyboard in thought on the account creation screen. He needed something inconspicuous, but not too mysterious. Something that wouldn’t be surprising when Chat Noir revealed himself as the winner, but also, not something that would be a dead giveaway that it was him. He didn’t want Ladybug to disqualify him for cheating. Besides, he wasn’t really cheating. There were no rules that her best friend and partner couldn’t enter…

He’d keep it simple but on brand — thecatsmeow had a nice ring to it, and it was surprisingly not taken. Now that his account was squared away, he just had to pass the quiz. 40 questions? Piece of cake.

What is Ladybug’s favorite color? Easy, pink.

Favorite musical artist? Jagged Stone.

Eye color?

It was almost sad how easy the questions were, and before he knew it, he’d finished. Adrien sat back as the site tabulated his score, and Plagg came to a rest on the top of his chair. A perfect score flashed on the screen, and Adrien shot up with a whoop.

“Yes! Take that ladybugsfuturebf!” he cheered.

“Don’t you think Ladybug is going to be mad when she finds out you won?” Plagg asked.

“Oh, come on. If anything, this just proves how much I pay attention. She’ll be impressed that I know her so well,” he said. At Plagg’s skeptical expression, Adrien sat back down. “And she’s not going to have a choice because I won fair and square.”

“You’re delusional.” Plagg floated off.

Adrien shrugged it off, smiling at his username at the top of the leaderboard. He was finally going to get that movie date with Ladybug! Nothing was going to sour his mood.

***

The next day, Adrien arrived at school as usual, shutting the door to his silver town car without a second thought. After winning the date with Ladybug, he was on cloud nine, imaging how romantic it would be in the dark theater. Maybe he’d pick a horror movie and hold her when she got scared. Oh! And their hands could brush as they both reached for popcorn at the same time! Entering the contest was the best idea he’d ever had.

“There’s no way it’s not him. Chat Noir totally won the contest,” Alya said as he entered the classroom.

Adrien stopped in his tracks. Okay, maybe not his best idea, but it was fine because he used a fake account. There was no way they traced it back to him.

None of them paid him any mind as he took his seat beside Nino, who was tapping his chin in thought.

“But why would Chat Noir need to enter a contest to spend time with Ladybug. He spends like the most time with her out of everyone,” Nino said.

“It’s so obvious. He’s been trying to get her to go to the movies with him for like ever, and now she has to say yes,” Alya said.

“Shouldn’t that be against the rules or something?” Marinette asked. “I mean, they spend so much time together, of course he’d know all the answers.”

“I’m willing to allow it because I think it’s really funny, and I don’t mind being Chat Noir’s wing woman.” She shrugged.

“Alya!” Marinette gasped.

“What? I want them to get together. Sue me.” Alya giggled.

“Hey, didn’t all the contestants have to have valid accounts to enter? What’s the name on the email address for the username that won?” Nino asked.

Adrien stiffened.

“Way ahead of you,” Alya said. “I looked right after the results posted, but the email is registered to an obvious alias, which further proves that it’s Chat Noir. He wouldn’t use his real name. He may not always look it, but he’s a smart cat.”

He wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that statement or not.  

“Dang, would have been cool if we learned who he was,” Nino said.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief when they let it drop. Everything was fine, and Alya wasn’t going to disqualify him. He could already taste the popcorn!

“Ya know,” it was Max who spoke up, having stopped midway up the stairs to his desk upon overhearing their conversation, “if you’re interested in knowing who the account really belongs to, I can track the IP address.”

Adrien’s heart shot up to his throat.

“Wait, for real?” Alya perked up.

“That would be totally awesome!” Nino added.

Maybe it would be fine. His father paid for crazy firewalls to protect his design secrets. No way anyone could get through them… Right?

“I recently upgraded Markov’s tracking capacity. I can crack a low-grade military firewall and find an address with pin-point accuracy,” Max said.

Most of the time, Adrien was amazed at Max’s genius, but today he was terrified of it. Plagg was right, entering the quiz was a surefire way to get him caught!

“Guys, that’s an invasion of privacy! Besides, don’t you think it will be dangerous if it is Chat Noir? I mean, exposing his identity will lead Hawkmoth right to his door. You’re practically handing him his Miraculous,” Marinette, his sweet pig-tailed savior, said.

Adrien cleared his throat and turned around, “Yeah, Marinette’s right. I think it will cause more trouble than it’s worth.” For him specifically.

“Chill out, I’m not going to post it online or anything. I just think if we knew who he was we could help him. I can be the girl on the ground, and I can also give him tips to fix his pitiful attempts at flirting with Ladybug,” Alya said.

Pitiful! Oh, she was definitely getting snubbed next time she asked for an interview.

“Alya, it’s dangerous and wrong. Even if he entered the contest for selfish reasons, that doesn’t mean you can invade his privacy like that.” Marinette chided. “Promise me you won’t look into it. It would put all of you and him in danger.”

Alya pursed her lips, exchanging glances with Max and Nino before slumping in her seat.

“Fine, I won’t look into it,” she said.

“Good,” Marinette said as Mlle. Bustier entered and called for everyone to find their seats.

Adrien turned back around, breathing out a ragged sigh. That was close, but it had all worked out in the end. He’d have to stop by the bakery later and buy a caseload of chouquettes to thank Marinette. Her level-head really saved his hide.

As the day wore on, Adrien pushed the morning’s conversation from his mind, though he had a feeling Plagg would give him an earful about it later. It would all be worth it when he and Ladybug finally went on their date. Could he get cherry blossoms this time of year? They were just barely out of season, but he could probably pull a few strings.

He pulled out his phone to check as he entered the library, and he’d almost found a promising listing when he rounded the corner and found Alya and Max crowded around a laptop at a table. Ducking back behind the bookshelf, he strained his ears to listen.

“His firewall is surprisingly good, it may take me a while to crack,” Max was saying.

“But you can definitely get around it?” Alya asked.

“Of course, what do you take me for?” Max scoffed.

They were going through with it after all! Adrien’s heart sped up, his palms growing shaky and sweaty. He should go over to their table and call them out for going back on their word, but would it be suspicious if he got onto them? Why would he be so bent on keeping Chat Noir’s identity secret unless he was Chat Noir? This was bad! What should he do?

Adrien bolted from the library, peering out over the railing at the courtyard below. Marinette was sketching quietly on a bench, and he raced to her side. She looked up at him with wide eyes, recoiling back with a nervous smile, probably in response to how desperate and deranged he looked, but there was no time to worry about that.

“Marinette, we have to stop Alya and Max. They’re in the library trying to crack Chat Noir’s firewall right now!” He panted.

“What?” She abandoned her sketchbook on the bench and took the lead back up the stairs to the library.

She burst through the doors and stormed over to their table, and Adrien did his best to look supportive but not too panicked. Alya winced when she saw them, and Marinette placed her hands on her hips.

“So, you were just going to go behind my back and do it anyways?” She scoffed.

“I’m sorry, girl! But think of how much good we could do if we could team up and help him!” Alya said.

“Think of how much danger you’re putting yourselves in! If Hawkmoth finds out you know his identity, he’ll come after you and your families. What if one of you gets akumatized? You could get hurt. Chat Noir could get hurt or worse!” Marinette said.

“She’s right. You guys shouldn’t go through with this,” Adrien added.

“I’m almost through the firewall,” Max said.

“Call it off, Max!” Marinette ordered.

“Keep going! We’re so close!” Alya pleaded. She turned to Marinette and pressed her palms together. “Look, I know it’s risky, but what if we can help take down Hawkmoth? That’s worth the risk, right?”

“It’s not our job! We don’t have superpowers, and it can put us and the people we love in danger!” Marinette placed her hands on Alya’s shoulders. “Please, stop.”

“Girl, I know you’re scared for me, but I promise I’ll be careful. ‘All that’s necessary for the triumph of evil-”

“That doesn’t apply here!” Marinette shook her head.

“I made it through the firewall!” Max said. “A few more seconds, and I can tell you exactly where he lives.”

Marinette and Alya were at a stand-off, and every clack of Max’s keyboard was a nail in Adrien’s coffin. He didn’t have a choice, but if they were going to find out it was him, he was going to do whatever it took to convince them he wasn’t Chat Noir. He just hoped Ladybug didn’t think he was a total freak afterward.

“It’s me!” He blurted. When Marinette and Alya turned to him with quirked brows, he let out a sigh. “I’m the one who won the contest. I’m thecatsmeow.”

Max’s keyboard went silent, and he turned the screen to face them where Adrien’s home address was flashing. “He’s telling the truth.”

“Whoa, so you’re Chat Noir?” Alya grinned.

“No!” Adrien held up cautioning hands. “I’m just, uhh, I didn’t want my father to know I entered, so I used a fake profile. There’s no way he would have let me go if he knew about it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Marinette asked.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. “I guess I was just embarrassed. I didn’t want any of you to think less of me.”

“I don’t think less of you!” Marinette assured him. “I-I mean, you won the contest fair and square, and you had every right to enter.”

Alya’s eyes narrowed, and Adrien shrank under her gaze.

“I’m still not entirely convinced. Ladybug and I made some of those questions crazy specific. How would you know she doesn’t like anchovies on her pizza, or that she likes lemon in her tea?” Alya crossed her arms over her chest.

“I… have a lot of money and free time.” He shrugged. “I got a bunch of drone cameras and spy equipment, and I watch her and Chat Noir all the time.” When everyone stared at him with wide eyes, he quickly added, “Not in a creepy way! I just admire her.”

“…You don’t know her identity, do you?” Marinette asked.

“No, of course not! I’d never do something like that.” Adrien shook his head. “I’m just…her biggest fan.”

Alya looked him up and down, her skeptical expression giving way to a smile. “You could have just said something. I mean, you know how freak-crazy I am about all of this. I would have understood.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just used to keeping a lot of my interests a secret because I have my father’s brand to consider — and my father to consider. If he knew what I was doing, he’d put an end to it immediately.” Adrien traced his thumb over his ring behind his back.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about us. Your secret’s safe.” Alya placed a hand on his shoulder with a wink. “Though, I may need to borrow your drone from time to time as payment.”

“Alya,” Marinette said in a warning tone.

“We’ll discuss the details later,” she said. “And if you ever want to talk Ladybug, I’m always here.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, letting his shoulders relax.

“Though, I am still a bit confused on your logic. I mean, you won the contest, so you were going to have to reveal it was you eventually to claim your prize. What was your plan there?” Alya quirked a brow.

“Uhh, wear a disguise?” Adrien said with a wince.

Alya threw her head back with a laugh. “Well, congrats on winning. I’ll pass the message on to Ladybug that you’re the winner, and we’ll arrange your prize soon.”

“Thanks,” Adrien said.

When the bell rang, Alya and Max packed up, and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief as they headed to their next class. That was way too close, but somehow, he’d managed to convince them. Plagg was going to scold him later.

Marinette fell into step beside him, tugging at her blazer.

“Um, congrats on winning,” she said. “I-I think it’s a good thing you won instead of some weirdo. I mean, if I was Ladybug, I’d be happy you won because it means we’d get to spend time together, and who wouldn’t want to spend time with you?”

Adrien smiled at her. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to hanging out with her. I admire her a lot,” he said. “And thanks for your help earlier.”

“N-n- Mmmhmm.” Marinette nodded.

She fell back to link up with Alya, and Adrien bit back a smile. It wasn’t exactly what he’d planned, but he still got to spend time with Ladybug either way. And who knew? Maybe there would be advantages to her going with Adrien Agreste instead of Chat Noir. At least this way, she couldn’t scold him. Besides, it didn’t matter to him which side she fell in love with, so long as it was him. He couldn’t wait for their date!

[scribesbyd]

~Just my love for writing ang Enhypen combined

~ This is a work of fiction

~ May contain grammatical errors✌️

~ Cross published in Wattpad, AO3, AFF and Quotev

Title: Blossom Series | False Impressions| Book 1 : Lee Heeseung

Genre: Contemporary, Realistic

Characters: Lee Heeseung, Female Lead, Enhypen

Category: F/M

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 1: Not A Fan

The lemonade she had made tastes nasty, so as her face. Choi Aerin's face immediately turned sour, not alone the lemonade, but after hearing what her friend and work mate, Hyeon Jiah, had said.

"Enhypen? Are you kidding me?" Aerin's eyebrow quickly raised.

"I'm serious. And if not with this stupid fever I won't ask you to do it in behalf of me. Hybe wouldn't allow people that are unwell to be near of the members, much more interviewing them."

Aerin, stubborn as she is, shook her head in disagreement. "No. I'd better finish this one hell of a lemonade than talking to them. Thanks but no thanks."

"Not all. Only one member is allowed to be interviewed. He's the male rising star for the month of September. He's undeniably famous but still needs to steal the spotlight, so you also need to do the best write up."

Aerin sighed and throwed herself in the couch. Jiah is persuasive and she knows she can't say no. But still she's not feeling it.

She's on probation and needs to step up her game. She's a staff writer along with Jiah, but on her part is a different story. She had bunch of rejected works, and a big scoop is what she needed at the moment. 

But Aerin finds it hard to hit that needed break because she writes the opposite of what the netizens want. She hates K-pop and everything that comes with it.

"This might be the needed break you've been waiting for. I told you long time ago, join my team. You're life will become easy, like, seriously."

"I know I can do it. Sports writing is something I find interesting. It's just that people are so lazy to read about sports and other stuff."

"Because that's old news, Aerin. We live in Korea, home of K-pop and K-dramas. Those things are ruling the world right now. That's a fact. And if you will continue being stubborn about it then you will definitely lose your job."

Aerin stood silent. It's not everyday that Jiah hit her hard emotionally. Losing her job is the one thing that scares her. She'll end up coming back to her abusive mother with her drunkard new man. That wouldn't happen anymore.

"Which member?" she finally gave up.

Jiah's face lights up. She frowned even more.

"Please tell me it's Kim Sunoo. He's the only one that I think I can be comfortable with. Among the seven members I think he's the most geniune. Don't give me Lee Heeseung. Please. Don't even think about it."

Jiah bites her lip upon hearing it. "Well, Aerin-- The thing is, we writers don't have the right to pick whoever we like to interview. Our editior in chief chooses him not us--"

"So, it's Lee Heeseung?!"

Jiah nods slow. "Yes. Unfortunately?"

Aerin slaps her face in disgust. "God! Why?"

"What do you mean why? And why do you hate him so much? He seems nice. And he's handsome. No debate on that."

"Eeww. Are you turning yourself to be one of Lee Heeseung's delulu fans now?"

"I cannot understand where the hate is coming from, Aerin. You don't know him personally so stop slandering him with your twisted tongue."

Even Aerin couldn't point out where the hatred is coming from. Maybe it's because Lee Heeseung is the coolest man she had ever seen. She hates cool guys. It's like they are born to be heartbreakers and are no remorse about it. She knows idols act like they are the nicest person in the whole world but in reality, they are masked puppets corrupting girl's minds leading them to delusion.

"Don't let me answer that. I don't want to go to jail because of cyberbullying."

"Is it because Lee Heeseung is a cool guy like Kang Minho? Geez, Aerin. Not all guys are like your stupid ex boyfriend--"

"Jiah, stop." she cuts her fast.

A moment of silence covered them both. It was so awkward and Aerin was guilty by her sudden bitterness. She don't mean to get frigid so easily.

"When is it?" she finally asked.

Jiah bites her lip not to let go of that scream. She knows Aerin hates being giddy, or any idea of it, not after what happened a couple of months ago. 

"Tomorrow. Hybe Building, Room 204. 11 AM sharp. Please wear something nice."

"Nice? What kind of nice? We are wearing corporate attire like everytime. Are you trying to tell me to dress up like those phantasmagorical fans wearing skimpy skirts and spotting on wigs and the heaviest makeup just to face an idol? No freakin' way!"

"I don't mean to say it like that. You need to be a little more exciting you know. Like you need to let go of that oomph, if you know what I mean. Do you want me to curl your hair, Aerin?"

"Stop! Like seriously. You're disgusting, Jiah!"

Jiah laughs hard and it freaks her out even more. It was a long time ago when she got a chance to interview an idol and it doesn't go well as planned. 

She was an intern, a normal girl with big dreams, and a silent kpop stan. Aerin put her best foot forward and was ready for the scheduled meeting but was cancelled without a warning because the singer wants another presenter, a male to be specific. Aerin overhead her making statements about interns and female writers, that they are brainless and the most biased journalist she had ever encountered.

On that day, she promised herself not to have any encounter with an idol on her entire writing career. She focused in sports writing and current events and struggled for years. Those categories are male and senior dominant fields and she finds it hard to fit in.

"I need to call Hybe you're doing it instead of me! This is it, Aerin! Who knows this is the needed break you always been dreaming of!" Jiah exclaimed.

"Entertainment writing? Worshipping idols just to make them more famous? Not the break I'm trying to get. Thank you very much."

She didn't know where the stubbornness is coming from. She was once an optimistic girl with full of dreams but her life turned into something different and far enough from what she imagined it to be, hence the pertinacity appears. It suppressed her. Controlled her for years. It was her healing emotion, a protection from any more ill-treatment, trauma and harm.

Some say, life is wonderful and live it with gratitude. Aerin finds it hard to agree for she cannot see eye to eye the truth in it. It's just an opinion that is overused and betrays everyone. 

Life sucks. And that's reality.

_________________________

[invested-in-your-future]

I may need to finish reading the fanfic but I have to wonder.

Imo the decision to have Ruby leave her family at the end of v3 exists to challenge her, to have her question whether family is more important to her than being a hero. If leaving it is what it takes to be one. Especially considering even in one of your pre-v4 chapters one of Ruby's deepest wounds: "Did Mom care more about being a huntress than about them?"

And surpringly afterwards there are lack of Ruby's deep thought about her family. Ruby keeps seeing Pyrrha's last gasps for air in the former's nightmares. Meaning she could' help thinking about it. But not Yang's face wincing in pain and blood seeping through the bandages.

How will she live now that a part of Yang is gone? Who was it that threw her into the depths of ptsd? It wasn't Grimm, it was a person. Whether she'll return alive and see her dad and sister again. Whether their last interaction was how things will end between them, with her favorite person in the world despising her. Whether she should put a halt to tracking Cinder and come back home, after honoring Pyrrha. Whether she's even strong enough to do it and look her in the eyes again. Whether her wild-goose-chase of a journey is just an excuse to not face her own sister.

Also, I assume RWBY-r!Ruby didn't write any letters from Mistral to them? I personally can't imagine Ruby downright ghosting Yang, considering she knows her history with being abandoned by people (Her mother and Blake). And again, there's a risk she might never return again. The only explanation I can think of why she didn't is because she doesn't want to leak her location. But otherwise it gives an impression that the conflict between them isn't that big of a deal and they’ll reconcile and move on quickly when they reunite.

I'm going to sound a bit cruel, but Pyrrha's death distracts Ruby from the modicum of other issues and trauma she has lined up. I think I mentioned before that it's a sort of bottleneck for her as Ruby loops what happened to Pyrrha over and over again.

Within psychology, there's this concept that if you were to introduce stimuli rapidly one after the other, the subject would showcase a significant slowdown in reacting and dealing with other ones as it deals with one of them. It applies to many things (ex: talking on your phone and driving), but it also applies to emotions.

Ruby hasn't seen Yang get hurt or the recovery period when Yang woke up and discovered what had happened. The main thing Ruby has is feeling guilty that this happened to Yang. Meanwhile, Pyrrha died steps away from Ruby.

What happened to Pyrrha is so vivid for Ruby that she can't quite process a ton of other things that plague her now. She hasn't even dealt with Penny's(one of her closest first friends!) fate either and that also happened in front of her eyes.

For now, the only thing she could do was irrationally focus on Cinder with every ounce of her being - otherwise, she felt she would break apart. It's why she has such a strong reaction to Jaune questioning that goal - turning back doesn't even cross her mind at this point because of how fatal that is to the core of her identity for now. This journey will solve everything after all! (or so she thinks/copes). Ruby's committed to this fever dream until the reality (once again) hits her in the face reminding her what she is avoiding dealing with.

She does think about Yang, but those thoughts are also tainted by their final confrontation before Ruby left and by projection. There's an intentional mismatch between the things Yang and Ruby project onto their idealized images of each other and their actual realities - both would rather reinforce and project than deal with what had happened.

Ruby hasn't written any letters. She doesn't want to give away her location and there are very few avenues to actually send a letter right now - It's only been a few months and Vale is still a mess. And due to towers and the closed ports, once she's in the sea and further east - it becomes physically impossible to do so. With the way towers work, each Kingdom is essentially a black box right now. And even if she were to send one via the smuggler ship she had arrived in Mistral in, due to what happened that wouldn't work.

I don't think Ruby is even capable of processing what happened with Yang for now. Their final confrontation at Patch only pushed Ruby to take on this fool's errand of a journey in the first place. Ruby has shut off herself into a tunnel vision of nothing but traumatic memory loops and she needs to break out of that before she can parse...well, the rest of her trauma.

V4r is Ruby's journey from facing (part of) her grief to her deep-rooted family issues. In part it's all about bringing her to a place where she can actually think about those things. Hopefully Ruby can realize that she can't avoid looking inward and facing her demons.

Just like her Semblance there's only so much she can do by blindly rushing forward, ignoring everything in between her and her destination, before consequences knee her in the gut.

[kittytl]

[HRH] Flower Fine Festival - Chapter 3

Faith: I think it's a good idea to choose a flower based on its symbolism.

Dino: Yeah! In that case, we should go for one that symbolises "Love And Peace"!

Keith: I knew you'd say that too...

Junior: I just checked and there's no flower with this meaning.

Dino: There isn't... Then, a flower with a positive meaning would be nice. The cold winter finally ended and made way for the warm spring, I want everyone to enjoy it to the fullest.

Junior: Then, what about the gerbera daisy? It means "to cheer up" and you give it to someone you want to feel better. Each colour has a different meaning but they all seem positive.

Dino: "To cheer up"... ♪ It's perfect for spring.

Faith: Since there are different colours, it could make for a very pretty and colourful scenery.

Junior: Alright! Let's go with the gerbera daisy.

Dino: Keith what do you think?

Keith: What? Ahh, no objection.

Faith: Great. The groundwork is already laid.

Keith: On my side too, the cookies are ready. The only thing left is to bring them to Marion. Ahh~~ What a pain~~ If only someone could do it in my place...

Junior: Me! Memememe! I will do it!

Keith: Oh thanks, you're a big help.

Junior: Leave it to me! Dino, lend me your pizza delivery bag!

Dino: Of course. I'll get it for you.

Faith: You know how to make good use of him.

Keith: He gets to talk with Marion and I get to relax. It's a win-win situation.

Flower shop clerk: In this store, you will find all kinds of flowers. Please feel free to ask me if there is something you wish to take a closer look at.

Dino: Then I'll go straight to the point, where can we find gerbera daisies?

Clerk: The gerbera daisies are this way. They exist in various colours.

Junior: Ohh... Like I thought, they're even prettier in real life.

Faith: The real thing can give quite a different impression than in pictures, just like Keith. It reminds me of Valentine's day. You looked quite sharp, like a totally different person.

Keith: Oh, that... Even now, people still ask me who's in that picture.

Junior: Hey! Stop slacking off and help us!

Faith: Yeees...

Junior: We have to choose them together! Achoo!

Keith: That's a big sneeze. Hay fever?

Faith: You're allergic ochibi-chan?

Junior: Who cares about that now! I said that I'll do my best. I guess, if you don't want to do it it's fine...

Faith: ?

Junior: So, if I don't want to do it, it's fine too...

Keith: What're you talking about?

Dino: Achoo!

Faith: You also have hay fever Dino?

Dino: Hey, did you know? Every flower is unique. So, it's okay to just choose whatever, right? Everyone, just choose the ones you like...

Keith: Hey, what's wrong?

Clerk: *sigh* I don't want to serve costumers anymore... I'm closing for the day.

Faith: What?

Keith: I don't know but, It's kinda strange.

Jack: Emergency, emergency! Substance was detected near Canary Street. All available heroes should head towards the location.

Faith: It's close.

Keith: I've a bad feeling about this. Let's move.

Faith: Understood.

Junior: Wait... Walking is tiring... Running is even more tiring...

Dino: Ugh~~ My feet feel so heavy~~ Isn't Canary Street way too far from here?

Keith: It's starting to look like something really happened.

Faith: Agree.

[wutheringmights]

I appreciate you asking ASAP, even if I couldn't get around to it until today. But that means I had a good 24 hours to think of everything I wanted to talk about.

And believe me, I have A LOT to say.

Generally speaking, I think the past section is the weaker half of the chapter. I think most of my chapters are unevenly matched like this, but it's really apparent here when the fever dream sequence worked marvelously while this one... didn't

Looking back, I think the framing device of the hands might have been the wrong move. It's too clunky and draws an unflattering amount of attention to itself, unlike the repeating refrain in The Long Winter (if you remember that one)

It gets a little more complicated when I think about how this strained, precariously balanced yet super off-kilter stretch of the engineer and Link's relationship was one of the many things I was initially super excited to get to; it's weird to know that I basically only have one chapter of this and it didn't feel as satisfying to write as I thought it would be

However, I think a lot of that has to do with how enjoyable and challenging I found writing how they got to this point and how much I'm honestly more excited for what's going to come afterward

So circling back to my poor prose this time around-- I will convince myself that the clunky refrain adds to how strange their relationship has gotten so that I don't feel too bad about it

Like, at the end of the day, this is the chapter where Link is at his happiest and the engineer is lively again, but they are both so deep in each other's bullshit that neither seem to realize that they're making the other miserable-- and that was interesting as heck to think about, even if my execution may not have been 100% there

Okay, prose aside, what actually happened this time around?

I said somewhere before that Link is bi, and no one said anything, I figured that there had to be a few people that noticed that I never had him actually go after guys; if that is you, now you know why

I deeply contemplated if Link outright stating that he's worried about any potential boyfriend being just like himself was too on the nose, but then I realized that in itself is such a loaded statement that isn't immediately obvious.

Or maybe I'm wrong about that. Who knows

There was originally going to be two execution scenes: one where Link insists on beheading the traitors himself, another where Link arrives late to find that the engineer went ahead and did it for him

The greenhorn originated as a character I referred to as the Gray-Eyed Soldier, which some of you may recognized from my list of deleted ideas

The Gray-Eyed Soldier was supposed to be a new recruit that Link was super attracted to but avoided due to his intimacy issues and fears of being accused of fraternization; but he couldn't stay away completely and would end up just lingering at the corners of this guy's life until he suddenly died on the battlefield

The problem with this storyline was that it would show Link temporarily obsessed with a character who wasn't the engineer, and I didn't want to give off the impression that Link's obsession was not as strong as it initially seemed or that Link himself was fickle

However, I still liked the idea of one of boys having this mini-romantic plot line, so I tested it out with the engineer and found this interesting story where you both feel bad for the engineer while also wondering how deeply he actually felt for this second guy suddenly showering him with affection

(Hilariously, the greenhorn was referred to exclusively as "the boy toy" in my notes, and it almost became his in-story epitaph)

(It would have been a sarcastic, bitter name provided by Link's inner monologue)

So... I should also talk about the neck scene, shouldn't I?

Here's the thing-- the neck scene opens a huge can of worms that I am not willing to discuss here. It needs it's own post. Right now, I will just say that I initially was not going to do it but it ultimately was the best way thematically for Link to shatter that promise of brotherhood

(I might talk about this more later, so I won't say more)

And finally, I am very excited for next chapter's past section, which is a good sign that you should be scared

Okay, onto the present

Re: Linkle's backstory-- when Lincoln was first taking Linkle with him, he had an entire mental freak out as he tried to do the mental math to figure out how he could give his newfound daughter the life she wants, whether she wanted an advanced education or to be a respectable noble lady

And Lincoln was doing all of this thinking trying to figure out how he could make any of those things happen when Linkle started yapping about how much she wanted to be trained as a knight; and he was like "oh thank god I can actually do that"

Dad of the Year, folks!

I did not anticipate how well Four and Lincoln would mesh together, which in hindsight is really funny; they're both two guys who will get shit done. Of course they would be friends

(But before teaming up with Lincoln, Four was of the opinion that even if none of them liked Lincoln, Time was an idiot for kicking out the guy who knew this Hyrule better than any of them)

Let's talk Meemaw

Back in chapter 1, Four is the only other member of the Chain besides Warriors to talk to Meemaw; this is because I knew she was going to help with the post-Kakariko Well escape, so I wanted them to interact early on

Meemaw has a line all the way back in chapter 5-ish where she says that she does not want to get involved with Warriors's dad side of the family; this was supposed to be a hint that Meemaw had a personal connection to the Harkinians you needed to look out for

As you may know, Meemaw is based on the literary character Mother Courage, whose first name is also Anna. However, her last name, Beck, is a cheeky reference to Linebeck

I have gone back and forth on whether I think Meemaw is a descendant of Linebeck, and I still don't know how I feel about it. So I took the ambiguous approach and left it vague enough that if I ever do want to commit to that idea, the groundwork is there

Lincoln and Meemaw's conversation was a delight to write. I did not anticipate that conversation being as funny was it was but they do make a good comedy duo

Lincoln's apology to Warriors was supposed to be next chapter, but when he called Warriors family, I just knew that Warriors was not going to let that slide

Alright, let's talk the Fever Dreams

Giving backstory through dream sequences is a cliche I really don't like, but there was no better time to tell you all what happened to Warriors before the story started; so I had to do some introspection to figure out what I didn't like about the cliche and landed on how I hated how un-dream-like those sequences tended to be

So I made it my goal to commit as hard as I could to everything being as trippy as possible without compromising on clarity

I played around a lot with how to define the dreams from reality

One of my original ideas was based off an out-of-context post on Gideon the Ninth I read that discussed how the prose's use of 2nd person POV emphasized how grief affected the main character; I wanted to use this technique to give off a sense of alienation, but it did not work

I eventually landed on only using em dashes to signal when a scene switched and just played up how being sick blurred that line of reality for Warriors

(Oh my god, this commentary is so long)

My warning to the reader that reality was about to get messed up was that conversation between Wind and Linebeck about if Linebeck was real or not (which also gave us another peek into how Wind deals with his problems)

I totally did not think I could ever find a way to get Linebeck in the story, but I am so glad that my beloved found a way

Everything about Warriors dealing with his mother's death was very personal for me, and I made myself cry a few times while writing it, so I hope you guys liked it

Speaking of his mom-- I want to make sure that Marigold has depth and is more than just The Dead Mom, which has been hard so far considering that she is dead and cannot participate in the story any longer

The blue-blooded girl in the dream was established in a previous chapter as a noble girl who was Warriors’s first kiss

Doing a remix of the official Masks comic was a lot of fun, and the transition from Four talking to Lincoln to Four in the scene is one my favorites in the whole sequence

In previous chapters, whenever Warriors dreamed of the Chain meeting Spirit and Mask, he always subconsciously paired Time and Mask up; so Mask fully replacing Time in a memory is the next step-up

I really wanted to use Warriors’s backstory as a way to explore how military recruitment preys on disadvantaged groups; Warriors was pushed into enlisting because it was the best employment option for someone who was at their absolute lowest and needed a way “out”

Even if Warriors wanted to be a knight, he obviously never would have gone down that path if he had any other option

My favorite little “trick” for blending reality and dream was to do two versions of the scene where Kat reports that she knows where Wild is; that idea came to me while I was walking to the coffee shop one day and I felt like a genius for it

Unlike the Kakariko Well, I actually feel like my version of the Lost Woods is interesting and unique

The scene where Warriors meets Gaudin was interesting to write-- I first wrote the scene straight with the conversation they had in reality, then went in and rewrote everything Warriors said and did; it was a complicated way to write it, but it was a lot of fun

That quick succession of scenes between Lincoln and Time arguing to when we revisit the opening sequence was also a ton of fun; figuring out how to build a conversation out of out-of-context lines from other scenes was super fun to write

(you can just tell that this entire part of the story has been a blast to compose)

The scene where the dog eats Warriors’s hand was originally going to be actual cannibalism as Warriors was going to bite into Spirit’s hand with the scene cutting right as he started to feast

Okay, that very last scene with Warrior’s dream of a family. Let’s chat.

Oh boy

Remember what I said earlier about how I experimented with trying to find ways to differentiate between dream and reality? One of the ideas I played with was having all the dreams happen to “Link.”

However, the story has had a very strict logic so far in that “Link” was only used for the past while “Warriors” was only used in the present; so my experiments showed me that if I used “Link” for the dreams, I would be breaking the established reality of the story

So of course, I used for the very last dream

Seeing “Link” there is supposed to be the reader’s oh shit moment where they realize that reality is 100% busted; and it worked so well

Especially since when the reader then saw “Warriors” used again at the Fairy Fountain, they would (hopefully) feel relieved to see reality  fixed-- a subconscious realization that the dreams are over and everything is okay

Also I want to point out that in that last dream, the engineer had this line where he said he was working on a “very important thing”; this was originally going to be a place holder until I could decide what Warriors would think the engineer would be working on, but decided to keep it because it would be funny if Warriors couldn’t even think of what it could be

And of course, we have Proxi in the story at last. I have a lot of plans for her, and I hope you guys enjoy her as much as I do

So the heroes in trouble are Twilight, Wind, Sky, and Legend; no one guessed that specific combo of boys, but a lot of guesses pinned Twilight and Wind correctly

I have known from that start that Warriors was going to lose his hand; this is going to be very interesting to write and I can already see a lot of people starting to work out the significance of him losing that hand in particular

But alas, we have yet to hit rock bottom. For everyone wondering how this is not rock bottom, let me ask you this: what would actually destroy Warriors? Chew on that.

[yikes-00]

You made an impression with your Golden Boy fic. That's the one that made me remember your username and expect each of your later fics with much excitement.

I didn't even finish the story. You know why? Because I want to savour it. And I read it when I'm in a particular mood. But I want to thank you for writing it. I remember the context in which it was written - Gen decided to mention it in a Hangster way and 0.5 second later you offered us this amazing gift!

I also read other works of yours that I LO-VE too! I realise I'm not up-to-date with your fics and that cannot be, goddammit!

The timeloop demon one, among others... But truth is I'm waiting for the story to be over so that I can check if the end is happy. No matter how tagged it is, if I feel a fic is going to be angsty, I always check the end to be sure. [I do that with books too. XD]

Sorry for that rambling. I've never talked to you before, so I -very sadly- don't know you very well, besides your writing. Nevertheless, I wanted to tell you HOW MUCH JOY [AND ANGST SHIT- gotta be honest here, but it's okay] you gave/give this anon.

Have a lovely day or whatever it is for you! *mwah*

Oh my god, this is the SWEETEST thing to wake up too!! Thank you so much for all the kinds words.

GOLDEN BOY!!! I honestly can’t describe how much I actually love the Notebook. It was such a wild fun fever dream and I’m so glad you enjoy it!!

Hehehehehe THE DEMON TIMELOOP!! Ok so in all honesty, the chapters are going to slow down soon only because I’m home sick rn and have time to update/write. BUT!!! It’s a very happy ending. (I also read the endings of books🫣)

Ahhhhhhh💕💕 thank you so much for all the lovely words and if you ever want to just say hi, feel free!!💙

[thebabblingbrookenook]

Okay, I know it has been a few days, but I needed time to digest how it made me feel. Your writing always soaks in, and I end up heavy with it for awhile. I mean that as the highest of compliments. Bear with me as I clumsily try to express how this upended me.

Immediately, you start with a progressing sense of hopelessness. All they had to cling to from the night before was the hope that Benedict’s fever would be broken by the morning. Anthony was sure of it. And then the morning came, and he still burned. Slowly, but surely, you can feel the people around him starting to relinquish their hope over to despair. Sophie refusing to let them bleed him - I’m assuming not wanting to add unnecessarily to his suffering. The doctors admitting they were out of solutions. All of his loved ones placing his fate in God’s merciful hands. That’s how you know when most people have reached the end of their own hope. They turn to God, desperate to borrow some of His. You did such a good job of setting up the emotional landscape of this chapter all within the first paragraph. Very impressive.

Out of all of them, Anthony is definitely the least willing to start accepting the possibility of a morbid outcome. I’m loving the war you are depicting within him. It’s exhausting, and slightly manic. It sets him a part from the other characters. I think it lends to the fact that we are mostly experiencing these events through his lens. Not always - you do lace in moments of Sophie and Eloise - but I feel most tethered to Anthony through it all. It’s a bit like strapped to lightning, but I’m with him nonetheless. He would be the family member in the ER that required a direct and blunt delivery when the doctor has to notify the death of a loved one. Say it. Just say it. He won’t stop until he hears the final word.

I only made it a few paragraphs in before I started sobbing. That letter to Kate... It was my undoing. The faith, love, and trust he has for her. The way there was no shame in his declaration - Come to me, I need you... 😭😭😭. The knowledge that she is on her way to him seems like the only thing keeping him afloat. He won’t be able to crumble until she’s there to hold him up. And THANK GOD he stressed the importance of getting Violet getting there. I didn’t think I was going to make it much longer without her knowing how severe this was. Benedict, a grown man with his own child on the way, just wants the comfort of his mother.

You transitioned seamlessly into a striking parallel between Anthony’s vice grip on his emotions and Sophie’s snapped, unraveled release of her own. I could almost feel the panic humming through his body as Anthony recognized her decent, knowing his own hinged on Benedict’s labored breathing. But even though he feared the kind of emotional turmoil she had succumbed to, he went to her. He didn’t shy away. His instinct was to comfort, despite his own discomfort. That is why I love Anthony as a character so much. He puts up an impressive wall around himself, but in the end... the goodness... it can’t be hidden.

All these small little details that you slip in there are my favorite! The fact that Sophie has silently pledged to herself that she never wants to appear weak in front of Anthony was stunning to me. It makes so much sense to me with what I have gleaned of her personality in the books. He has already done so much for her. And she reveres his steadfast strength and stability. The respect she has for him is beautiful. Especially because it seems like the qualities that Sophie so easily observes tend to be looked over by those closest to him. They don’t have years of baggage causing space between them. So when she looks into his eyes - eyes normally hard guarded from emotion - and she sees her own fears reflected back at her, she instantly puts away her worry of being weak in front of him. She falls apart for the both of them. The trust is beautiful and layered. 

And then... THE BOMB! She’s pregnant. This is the part where I started to remember that I should be mad at you for putting me through this. I was to caught up in the beauty of their relationship dynamics and then you bitch slapped me with the possibility of a reality so bleak that I nearly doubled over. The pain in my stomach never eased after this revelation. Oh gosh, and then Anthony’s reaction to the news. It feels like there is someone standing on my chest. The memories of his mother, pregnant and utterly wrecked with grief, just took him over. “It brought him to his knees in front of her, eyes wide as he gazed into a future that was also his past.” - God, Eleanor, that was gorgeous. Wrapped around my mind in silky waves - gorgeous. The imagery of him lowering himself before her, bringing them to a place where they are equals... To a place where she is FAMILY. She is under the safety of his wing. Fuckkk... She isn’t a maid who married his little brother, and now found herself in debt to him. No. She became his sister in that moment. She became someone that he would protect at all costs. She transformed into a young Violet, and he would give his life to prevent history from repeating itself with his brother’s love. His brother who looked so like his father... Guuuuuhhhhhhh- I CAN’T BREATHE!

“The thought ignited something desperate, nearly angry in him. Magic or no, fate would not wrench his family apart again. Whatever it took, whatever he could give of himself to prevent or mitigate a tragedy, he would do it. He would not watch Sophie wither as his mother had. He would not hold Benedict’s child the way he had held Hyacinth, cries echoing around an empty nursery devoid of either parent. Grief had nearly taken his mother and left his family with scars that would never fully heal. It wouldn’t run its cruel game over the Bridgertons again. He would not let sorrow swallow them all whole.” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔 Whyyyyy, Eleanor?! Whyyyyy? His fingers grip hers and he all but claims her as something that he refuses to lose. This man.... He DEMOLISHED any doubts that still plagued her, and she felt truly protected. Drenched in phileo love. Damn it, Eleanor. 

Man, this story has me all over the place emotionally. I went from writhing around in beautiful pain to reeling from Sir Phillips arrival. Hope crept back in as his presence filled the room. Even though Anthony has a mistrust for him right now, that hope still made itself known. Perhaps leaving Benedict in God’s hands was the best place for him to be. Maybe Phillips arrival was divinely orchestrated. A mending that they have all been praying for in some way or another. Eloise needs a partner who sees and understands her needs differently that from the eyes of a brother. She needs comfort that Anthony and Sophie can’t provide. She also needs reassurance from their previous fight. She needs to seem someone not so easily chased away by her challenging willfulness. Anthony needs to see that his sister will be cared for by a man worthy of her. He needs to let go and pass on a piece of his heart. They all need the freshness of his offer to help Benedict. They needs something else to reach out for. And he came just in time. I love the way he handled himself with all of them. You were even able to stitch in his own painful past, and how that allowed him to come to their aid today.

The image of Sophie pleading with Benedict to drink the tea was perfection. Whump gold. And Philip helping her lift him up so that they could coax his sips more easily. Yes. Yes. Yes. I also enjoyed the thirst trap moment of Plant Daddy rolling up those sleeves and getting down to business.

The POV change up going into this next part was really nice. Seeing the Bridgertons from Phillip's perspective was interesting and somewhat of a reprieve the intensity of their raw emotions. He was so respectful and intentional about every word he said, and every move he made. The longing he has for Eloise makes my heart flutter. He just wants to be there for her. I think he wants to SEE her. I liked the observation he made about how he had never actually seen her cry. And he was so tuned in with her every micro-expression, looking for a way back into her affections.

Another thing that was nice about seeing through Phillip's lens was watching how the interaction between Anthony and Eloise played out. Phillip loves El, but he also has some knowledge of what is like to be in Anthony's position. The fact that we, as readers, get to absorb his observations of the surroundings, really hits it home how much stress Anthony is under. Just like Phillip saw the same gestures in Eloise that clued him in to how she was feeling, he is also seeing Anthony in the same light. He is seeing how haggard he looks. How close to his breaking point he truly is now. He sees the pinching of his nose, and the slump of his shoulders resting on his knees. She sees a brother hanging precariously on to his last strand of patience, trying desperately not to snap on his baby sister. But he also sees a man trying to outrun his own emotional storm. I liked that Phillip, or at least it felt like his lens, even clocked that Eloise ignored Anthony's clear pleading for the conversation to stop. Even though he loves her, he can still see the flaws. He can still see the places where she is selfish and stubborn. He can still see the places where she fails to yield to mercy, instead running full speed into her own self-indulgence. Anthony needed her to stop. It was too much. I think I was actually a little upset with her for this. I know she was just trying to process her own fears and anxieties, but does she not see her brother? Does she not hear the pain in his voice? Is she so willing to force him to endure more suffering, just to continue to hear the sound of her own voice as she outwardly processes? Getting up to leave was the only thing left for Anthony to do at that point.

The moments of Eloise and Phillip alone together after Anthony made his departure were so sweet, and very satisfying. It felt good to see El getting to know her heart a bit better. She is slowly letting him in. I think she is realizing, that while she is capable of doing so many things herself, she doesn't always want to have to. And having Phillip there to lean on is a reminder of that. He knows she is capable, but he wants to be her place of refuge when the storm gets to be too much the weather alone.

Sophie is exactly where she needs to be. Not even Anthony could get me to leave Benedict's side at this point. I would need to be curled against him at all times. Feeling the warmth of his body, the rise and fall of his chest. Even if he never got better, I would make sure that I was there holding him until his lungs pushed once last breath over his lips. I would want to know that he was held to the very end. And the idea of her sitting next to him, placing his hand on her belly, possibly the only time their child would know it's father's touch... Just let the sobbing commence. Ever since I saw Pearl Harbor as a child, this death bed pregnancy scenario has lived rent free in my brain.

Rounding this out nicely, throwing us back into Anthony's POV, was a good call. Again, I think it really highlights how alone he feels in this. He has so many moments of solitude, sitting with his own cruel inner voice. A voice spewing accusations of ineptitude. Taunting him with his shortcomings, and convincing him that he would not be enough to carry his family through a tragedy of this magnitude.

I cannot wait to see what you have planned for the 4th chapter. My heart is begging for a united family. I trust your vision with this, even if that vision lands me 6 feet under, laying next to Benedict. As long as you keep pouring out these gorgeous sentiments and emotional complexities, I will endeavor to endure.

Willow Bark - Day 3: An Arrival

Rated: T, whump and angst Word count: 5.6k

Day 2 Masterpost

No more summaries, so as not to spoil!

By late morning the next day, the fever had not broken and the medicine had done nothing to improve Benedict’s condition. Dr. Crowe and the village surgeon were jointly called back to the house to examine him. Their theories on his malady differed, with the surgeon suspecting that it may be brain fever. When Sophie refused to let them bleed him again, they were in agreement that there was nothing more they could offer. He was in God’s hands.

At Benedict’s bedside, Sophie brought his palm to her cheek and refused to look at the physicians. Eloise sank silently into a chair. Anthony stuttered, eyes wild, all but accusing them both of malpractice. He would seek another opinion, someone far more qualified from the city. He practically shoved them both out the door and began to pace at the foot of the bed, rambling. They were country hacks who didn’t know what they were talking about. He would have the best London doctor brought to sort everything out. There was still more to be done. This was not the final word.

As he strategized aloud, Sophie smoothed Benedict’s hair back from his white forehead. She didn’t protest or say anything at all. She nodded at Anthony but her eyes were such bottomless wells of grief and pity, it was clear she had no faith in his plans.

Shaking with adrenaline, Anthony stalked into the study once again and dashed off two hasty letters. One to his solicitor, instructing him to dispense any amount of money necessary in order to send the best doctor post haste. The other was to Kate, his heart pounding and fingers trembling as he wrote: 

En katal, 

I would not ask this of you if I did not know you were the most capable. Please tell the family, Mother in particular, that they must come now. There isn’t an hour to waste. I need you.

-Anthony

How many messengers were in the area, especially considering he had sent one off the day before, Anthony didn’t know. And how quickly they would be able to rush to the city through the interminable sheets of rain, he couldn’t guess. But he growled at Benedict’s beleaguered footman to do everything in his power to send them out and promised the man a financial reward. Then he moved in a circuit up and down the hall outside the bedroom door, assuring himself that help would arrive, that all would be well.

---

The day progressed with a kind of muffled lethargy, a thickness to the air and a slowness of movement with no one knowing where to situate themselves or what to say, but they all stayed congregated in Benedict’s room. The passage of time became impossible to contend with. Should they desire the hours to pass more quickly so that the fever might inevitably break? Or should they try to stop time altogether and stay in these moments before a darker turn occurred? They stood in silence, each tuned into the cadence of Benedict’s labored breath, each refusing to abandon hope and none of them wanting to be the first to acknowledge what they may be facing.

The relentless rain continued as the daylight faded into dusk. Anthony sat watching Eloise kneel next to Benedict, cooling his brow and neck with a cloth. Sophie stood between them, biting the nails of one hand with the other wrapped around herself. Her eyes were sunken, her frame withered. She was growing as pale as Benedict and starting to look skeletal. The thought occurred to Anthony that he had not seen her eat anything since he had arrived.

Before he could encourage her to address the matter, she suddenly spoke. “Did Ben ever tell you how we met?” Her voice was brittle but a small smile tugged at her lips as she looked down at her husband. “The second time.”

Eloise looked back. “It was at the Cavenders.”

“Yes,” Sophie nodded, smiling as she relished the memory. “We were both…escaping. He found me and gave me a ride to safety.” Then her face fell again. “We were caught in the rain and he came down with a fever. I took care of him. I don’t know why he’s so prone…” Her voice trailed off as tears began to brim in her eyes.

Anthony perked up. “What helped last time?”

Sophie shook her head, shrugging helplessly. “Just a night’s rest. It was only a few hours. This has been days.” Her voice cracked again and she started to tremble as tears began pouring down her face. She gasped, fighting for each word as she started to reel and babble. “I don’t know what…I don’t…I can’t…”

She was breaking. At last she had reached the end of her strength and feigned confidence. As he watched her Anthony saw the terror, the void of despair which was all too familiar to him. He had been to that place before and knew its overwhelming, inky grip. He rose and moved to her.

“Sophie,” He wrapped a steadying arm around her shoulders. She crumpled against him, heaving raggedly, unable to catch her breath, her eyes darting behind her endless tears. 

Eloise watched them with concern and shared a wordless exchange with her brother. “Go. I’ll look after him.”

Anthony nodded tightly then steered his sister-in-law out the door and down to the sitting room. She leaned into him, grateful for the guidance, and lost herself to the panic that was tearing through her veins. She didn’t have the fortitude to fight it anymore and part of her wondered if she even should. This seemed the appropriate response to the news she had received that morning. She had done her best to restrain her feelings this long and now they demanded to be heard. 

Anthony sat her in a chair and she continued to tremble, crying wretchedly. He kept a hand on her shoulder. “Sophie, you must remain calm. That is what Benedict needs from you right now. That is what we all need.”

Gulping through her sobs, she looked up at him. Even with the shared grief in his eyes he seemed so steady, so sure. She admired the Viscount for the many ways in which he provided for his family, including for Benedict and herself, and she had never wanted to appear vulnerable in front of him. It was enough that he had accepted her, a bastard maid, into his family when most other gentlemen would have exposed and banished her from their tier of society. Now that she was a Bridgerton, she had vowed to prove herself worthy of his name and his gracious support. But in this moment, he shared the cause of her weakness and she felt compelled to confide in him.

 “I can’t lose him, Anthony.”

His lips tightened into a line as he clenched his jaw. “He will recover. I know that he will. He is strong.” It sounded like a recitation, a dogged insistence that if he said it enough times it would manifest.

As her sobs dried to shuddering breaths Sophie inhaled deeply, locking into his eyes until he could see something desperate in hers. “Anthony…I am with child.”

He froze. If there was one thing that could make this situation even worse than it already was, surely it was this. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Sophie wasn’t showing any indication of her condition. Benedict’s words echoed back to him, his desperate plea for Anthony to take care of her. The urgency of his request made even more sense now, though he hadn’t mentioned…

“Does he know?” He tried to keep his voice calm.

Sophie stared at her lap and nodded, wiping tears from her cheeks. She began to ramble again but devoid of energy, her voice was faint. “I can’t…I don’t know how your mother…” Buried within her fear he detected a layer of sympathy. “Anthony, I’m so sorry. I don’t want anyone to go through this again.”

He nearly stumbled backward. She saw the parallel, but he hadn’t until she spoke. He instantly remembered his mother, heavily pregnant and running across the lawn at Aubrey Hall on that black day; heard her wailing in the stairwell as the maids tried to calm her for the sake of the baby; saw the utter despair in her eyes as she endured her labor without her husband by her side. History was threatening to repeat itself, to grow into some kind of curse he could not escape.

It brought him to his knees in front of her, eyes wide as he gazed into a future that was also his past. He recited the words again though there was no conviction in them. “We wo…we won’t. He won’t... It will be alright.”

Sophie stared off over his shoulder, her sunken eyes misted over. After a moment she spoke, her voice hollow. “He is my soul. I will die.”

Anthony shuddered. How many times had Benedict used that same phrase? Claiming that he and his wife shared a soul. It was what he had lobbed at Anthony when justifying his reasons for marrying outside their class. It was what he had said in his toast at their wedding. It was a well-worn declaration Benedict fell into when the brothers had too many drinks together. Anthony had always written it off as his brother’s typical dramatic flair, his poetic temperament run amok. But now his wife was before him, asserting the same in their darkest hour when there was no space for hyperbole. It was enough to make him consider that it may actually be true. That there may be a level of magical connection between Benedict and Sophie that he couldn’t perceive or understand.

The thought ignited something desperate, nearly angry in him. Magic or no, fate would not wrench his family apart again. Whatever it took, whatever he could give of himself to prevent or mitigate a tragedy, he would do it. He would not watch Sophie wither as his mother had. He would not hold Benedict’s child the way he had held Hyacinth, cries echoing around an empty nursery devoid of either parent. Grief had nearly taken his mother and left his family with scars that would never fully heal. It wouldn’t run its cruel game over the Bridgertons again. He would not let sorrow swallow them all whole.

He snapped to attention, gripping Sophie’s hands in his own, his eyes burning. “You will not! You will not, do you hear me?” His tone was commanding, harsh even, but he didn’t care. “You will not lose yourself in grief. I will not allow it. It was a lesson hard-learned for me, but this kind of pain is the price we pay for love.” He wound his fingers between hers. “I will not lose any of you.”

In that moment, cutting through her shroud of woe, Sophie felt for the first time in her life a novel sense of protection. Something she had longed for throughout her wretched childhood and despaired of ever finding. Someone who would shoulder her with the guidance and care of a father; a brother. The fierceness of Anthony’s grip and the fervor in his eyes left no room for doubt. She stared back at him, stunned.

The silence was suddenly broken by the footman appearing in the doorway.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, there is a Sir Phillip Crane here to see you.”

In the entry hall Anthony and Sophie found Sir Phillip dripping with rain. He brushed the droplets from his eyes with one hand while the other grasped the handle of a valise. He bowed to each of them in turn.

Anthony’s brow furrowed. “Sir Phillip. What are you doing here?”

Phillip glanced cautiously between them. “I went to Aubrey Hall and was informed of Mr. Bridgerton’s condition. How is he?”

The last time Anthony had seen this man, he had caused his sister to storm off in a fury and he still did not know the reason why. Despite Eloise’s mercurial nature, he would of course always lay the fault at her suitor’s feet before laying it at hers. He clasped his hands behind his back and stuck his nose in the air. “I don’t know that it’s any of your concern.”

Phillip retracted into himself, bowing his head. “Of course. I wanted to apologize to Eloise. But focusing on your family is the top priority.”

Anthony stared down at him, his voice clipped. “It is.”

Sophie had no patience to deal with the tension between these men, whatever its origins. It was unlikely that the mere desire for a conversation had spurred their visitor to travel through the rainy night. She kept her tone gentle, letting him know he was welcome in her home. “Sir Phillip, what is that you are holding?”

Phillip tore his eyes from Anthony and seemed to remember himself. “Mrs. Bridgerton, if you will allow me to impose myself. I came here to offer help to your husband, if I could.” He gestured toward the valise.

“Do you know something of medicine?” Her voice edged on desperation but she didn’t care.

Phillip shrugged. “As much as a botanist would. I have brought medicinal herbs. I am sure that a doctor has prescribed his own treatment, but I only sought to help.” His piercing blue eyes were impossibly kind. It seemed that Eloise had found herself a fiance with a pure heart.

Sophie felt a spark of hope flicker within. A practical stranger, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and ask him to assuage all her fears. “The doctor has said there’s no more to be done,” she rasped, biting her lip as new tears formed.

A haunted look passed over his features. “I am sorry…”

“Please,” Sophie spluttered, moving forward and taking him by the arm. She had nothing left to lose and his arrival seemed too serendipitous to question. “Please come see him. You must try.”

Fully ignoring the flustered, angry look on Anthony’s face, she pulled Phillip through the house and up to the bedroom where Benedict and Eloise waited.

When they opened the door, Eloise leapt to her feet at the bedside. “Phillip!”

Dragged along by Sophie, he couldn’t pause for a polite introduction. He tried to convey as much apology and concern as he could through his eyes alone and nodded at her. “Eloise.”

“What are you doing here?” She glanced between them all, Anthony marching grumpily at the rear.

“He’s going to help Benedict.” Sophie said with a new strength in her voice. It was clear she would brook no further questions or protests. 

Anthony and Eloise huddled near the wall as Sophie and Phillip spoke in hurried, hushed tones, leaning over the bed. Sophie shared everything the doctor and surgeon had told her while Phillip felt Benedict’s forehead, his neck, his fingers. He looked into his eyes and timed his pulse all while he lay feverish and unresponsive. He tried to hide from Sophie how his own hands were shaking, overcome with memories of the last time he sat at a fevered bedside, some of the darkest days of his life. But she was so focused on her husband she didn’t seem to notice.

They called the maid to bring hot water, muslin and a tea set. Phillip stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves as he began to sort through his valise, calling upon every lecture he had attended and study he had read which may be of help in this situation. With the supplies laid out before him on the bedside table, he gathered two fistfuls of dried flowers.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, can you make a poultice?”

“Yes.”

“Here,” he laid the herbs on a strip of muslin.  “Meadowsweet and yarrow. Place it on his chest. If this is a lung infection the permeated compounds may help.”

Working quickly, Sophie ground the flowers into the cloth, wrapped them and soaked them in the pitcher of hot water. Then she laid the bandage across Benedict’s chest and pressed it into his skin.

Beside her, Phillip produced another odd looking herb from his case and began to crush it into the teapot. At this, Anthony stepped forward.

“What is that?”

Phillip glanced over his shoulder. “Willow bark. A professor of mine claimed it could break fevers.” He wouldn’t tell the Viscount about his prior attempted use of the cure or its outcome. He still had faith in his professor’s hypothesis and had seen literature to support his claim. This was the plant in Phillip’s collection that held the most promise, regardless of what had occurred before.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Crane.” Anthony practically growled at him.

“Anthony…” Eloise’s cautioning voice behind them made Phillip’s heart flutter with gratitude but he couldn’t escape the Viscount’s steely glare.

He found himself stuttering. “Nothing should cause him any harm, I only…”

When Eloise’s hand closed around Anthony’s arm he stepped back. If he was willing to do anything to help his brother, that included having faith in someone else’s ability to provide a solution, whoever that person may be. Dr. Crowe had been of no help and there was no guarantee his letter to the solicitor would send anyone else. His methods had failed and he needed to stop interfering while someone else took the lead. He didn’t like the thought of placing Benedict’s fate in the hands of Eloise’s suitor, a man whose character they hardly knew, much less his credentials to be feeding medicines into a member of their family. But it was the only option available now. There was nothing else to be done.

“I know,” he cast his eyes down in apology. “I am sorry. You are here to help. Excuse me.” He had to remove himself before he interjected further. Watching Benedict lay so limply as a stranger picked over him was stoking something defensive inside and he couldn’t bear it any longer. Without another word, he turned and left the room.

Eloise remained, transfixed as Phillip worked with quiet care to brew the willow bark tea. When she had last seen him in the gardens at Romney Hall, she had snapped in his face, fled his presence and began contemplating whether their relationship should continue any further. Now, adding to the unresolved confusion in her heart, she could not have been more grateful to see him. She could never have anticipated that he would make the journey to Benedict’s home upon hearing that he was ill. She remembered her brother’s assurance from the day before. Deeds, not words. She felt something spreading through her as she watched him helping her brother, a steadiness that made her feel less unmoored in the gloom of their situation.

Together, Sophie and Phillip pulled Benedict to sit up against the pillows. Sophie sat beside him as Phillip handed her a cup of tea and she brought it to her husband’s mouth. 

“Benedict my love,” she whispered. “You must drink.” She held his head with one hand and tipped the cup slowly with the other. Mercifully, the tea passed his lips and he did not cough. He swallowed it gently, guided by some level of instinctual consciousness. “Very good,” Sophie sighed, something hopeful lighting her features. 

Patiently and carefully, Sophie fed Benedict two small cups of tea as Phillip kept a watchful eye, replenishing the drink. When Benedict fell back against the pillows with a rattling breath and Phillip confessed that these were all the remedies he could offer, Sophie thanked him with a small smile then turned back to watch her husband. Phillip left his supplies where they were. There was nothing to do now but wait and see if the herbs made any difference. This too he was familiar with, the waiting game of indeterminate length, indeterminate hope. He had played his part and now the tenor in the room was intimate and somber, no longer a place for him. 

He turned and found his eyes meeting Eloise’s. She was staring at him intently, her expression unfathomable. He wanted nothing more than to take her somewhere private and gather her in his arms, to prostrate himself with apology and beg her to remain his betrothed. But this was not the time. Not when her brother was lying beside them battling for his life. It would be inappropriate for them to be alone together and the last thing he wanted was to incur more ire from the Viscount who was unsurprisingly even more raw with his emotions under their current circumstances. An unspoken agreement passed between them to grant Sophie and Benedict their privacy. He took Eloise lightly by the arm and walked with her to the sitting room where they found the Viscount, hunched with his elbows on his knees, head hung low.

They sat on a sofa across from him and respectfully distant from one another. Phillip desperately wanted to comfort his intended, even to just hold her hand. But not only was that out of the question with her brother watching them, he didn’t know if she would allow such advances anymore. He sat in indecision, unsure if he was welcome to stay or if his presence was scorned. Fortunately, the Bridgertons spoke about more pressing matters as if he wasn’t even there.

“Anthony, did you write to Mama?” Eloise’s voice was uncharacteristically unsteady.

“Yes. I have twice.” The Viscount pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly exhausted. “She will be here as soon as she can, I’m sure.”

“What if…” Eloise halted. Phillip could see the tears rimming her eyes, glinting in the low firelight. It suddenly struck him that he had never seen her cry. “I don’t know if…Do you remember? In the days after Papa…”

Anthony’s head snapped up and he shot her a threatening stare. “Eloise, now is not the time to talk about that.”

But she ignored him, struggling to find words, clearly insistent on recalling something important. “Benedict was always there, don’t you remember?”

Anthony continued to glare at her, his jaw locking, tears threatening his eyes too. 

“Those days are a bit of a blur, Eloise.” He ground out.

Still she did not heed his obvious entreaty to stop. Instead she looked between them both, something of a pained smile contrasting with the sadness in her eyes. “He took care of us. All of us. He read us stories and played games when you were busy and mother was…ill. He taught me how to shoot.”

“He what?” Anthony spluttered. “It was a slingshot.” Eloise shrugged innocently.

Eager to provide even a moment of levity, Phillip joked. “Ah, so we have him to thank for that.” The mystery of Eloise’s prowess with a pistol was at last solved.

Her faint smile gave him a sliver of hope. “Yes, he made sure we were occupied. Something to distract us from our tears. Though he took care of those too.” Then she turned to look into the fire, despondent, her voice falling to a whisper. “Now he’s the one…”

With that, the Viscount snapped out of his seat and unceremoniously stormed out of the room, leaving them alone. 

They sat in silence, staring after him. Though he remained somewhat terrified of the man, Phillip had empathy toward him. He knew how much weight rested on titled shoulders, and he knew what it was like to worry for a brother, but he had never juggled both pressures simultaneously. Indeed, in his life one had consequently resulted from the other. By all rights he should have been eager to leave the house, to get away from the kind of gloom that he had hoped to relegate to his past. But he found he did not want to go. Not when Eloise was there. She was why he had come, and she was why he would stay. Anything for her.

He turned to find her staring blankly ahead, mind clearly whirring. Concerns of propriety and chaperones fallen by the wayside, he was grateful for a moment alone and only wanted to give her solace.

“Your brother is strong. I have seen it firsthand.” He arched a jesting brow when Eloise looked at him. Neither of them would ever forget his eventful introduction to the two eldest Bridgerton brothers. “I’m sure he is going to be alright.”

His humor didn’t work and Eloise only deflated. “I’m tired of platitudes, Phillip. Don’t make me pretend with you too.”

Here was her honesty. He exhaled, relieved that she still trusted him enough to bare her true feelings. He would be her respite. “Alright. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, and I don’t know if I did anything to help. But I have had a brother in peril before. I know what it feels like.” She turned to meet his eyes, listening intently. Something in them was grateful. “And I can tell you that it is nothing but wasted time if you allow yourself to despair before there is cause to.”

Phillip had despaired of course. He had despaired greatly upon losing his brother. But knowing what he did now, he wished he could retrieve the weeks lost to worrying. Though his worst fears had ultimately been realized, he had cut the joy out of his life prematurely in anticipation of them. If he had only known that they were the last weeks of his life that were truly his own, where he was simply Phillip Crane, untitled student of botany, he would have savored them more. For Eloise and her family the threat was much more visible, more imminent, but he wanted her to continue to hope, not to consign herself to unnecessary grief for even one moment.

She studied his face as if searching for answers. “What if…we find ourselves facing a future that is not as we imagined it would be?”

Phillip held his breath, anguished once again that his actions were causing her to contemplate one of those uncertain futures, though in truth he was not precisely sure why. It was still unclear what he had said to cause such a strong reaction when they were in the garden. Nevertheless, he felt guilt at saddling her with so much simultaneously, though of course none of it was intended. He could only impart what he had learned from his own experiences and he would not coddle her. It was not what she wanted.

“I have faced many such futures. You adapt. The world rearranges itself into odd new configurations but just because they are unfamiliar does not mean there is no joy to be found. We must wrench our own happiness from the earth. Nurture it with care and persistence and it will grow, despite the shadows it arose from.” 

Her fleeting smile lifted his heart. She knew what he was speaking of, the incredible gift of the twins. Despite their unconventional and tragic trajectory into his life, they were its brightest points, next to her.

He leaned in closer, shifting his hand to rest beside hers on the sofa. “You have already done this, Eloise. You can do it again if need be. You have the strongest spirit I have ever known. And you are not alone. Please know that.”

She looked up at him, close enough that he could feel her breath dance sweetly over his skin, but she did not kiss him. Instead her fingers inched over, covered his own and held tightly. Warmth rushed through him and they settled against one another as they reclined back into the sofa.

Resting her head upon his shoulder, Eloise sighed, “I am glad you are here.”

It was only in this moment that she felt her body truly relax, felt as if she had stepped back from teetering on an edge of raw nerves. Ever since arriving at the cottage she had felt lost somehow, out of place and waiting for someone to alleviate that feeling. She had assumed Anthony would do it but that hadn’t occurred. Then she assumed she must wait for her mother to arrive to find any relief. But it was Phillip, his steady, solid presence that made her reassured. With him at her side, she felt prepared to face even the unthinkable because she knew he would bolster her. 

As she began to fade into sleep, she realized that a part of her had been longing to see him again. This entire time, she had silently been wishing for him to share in her burden and guide her through it. The anger she had felt before paled in comparison to her desire for his companionship. Ever since she had last parted from him, he had never been absent from her thoughts.

Benedict’s words echoed through her mind once more. Every deed Phillip had committed toward her had been gentle, caring, supportive. The way he had welcomed her into his home, the way he had tried to prevent the twins from bothering her despite how his efforts failed. Every touch, every kiss stolen in his greenhouse, all of it so tender. The very fact that he had agreed to marry her immediately and without question when Anthony demanded it. And now appearing, unlooked for, in her family’s hour of greatest need. His words had driven her from the gardens days earlier. Words always seemed difficult for him to say, their intention difficult for him to convey, so unlike herself. But his deeds - his intentions behind them were unquestionable.

— 

Left alone with Benedict, Sophie carefully laid down beside him. Nothing could compel her to leave him tonight. He hadn’t shown any change since they had given him the tea. The only sounds in the room were his agonized breaths. She ran her fingers across his brow and down his face. His features were sunken, like a specter of the husband she knew. She continued down his arm to grasp a limp hand and press it to her stomach, ever so slightly rounded. She allowed herself to hope that somehow it would help him wake if he could feel his child. If he was reminded of the person most dependent upon him. But still, he did not stir.

She held his hand in place, stroking it with her thumb, and pressed her forehead against his cheek. She was worn through with grief and exhaustion. She had no words for him. She had spoken them already, or they were sentiments that she could not bring herself to say. She could not utter a goodbye or imagine that he would never hold their child in his arms. The cloud of such thoughts hovered at the edge of her mind but she fought not to focus on it and to focus instead on the fact that he was still breathing.

In God’s hands. She didn’t know if God’s hands were to be trusted and so she held him in her own. Curling herself around him she laid her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, rapid and thready, and the sound of it forced more tears from her eyes. How many times had he pressed her hand against it and told her it beat only for her? How many times had he told her it was hers entirely? If the song of his blood was dedicated to her she would listen to it, even if it was drawing to an end.

Despite how she fought to stay awake, sorrow had exhausted her to her very bones. She had no energy left to fight or to hope or to sob. All she could do was cling to her husband, the love of her life, her very soul, and drift into the uneasy dark willing this nightmare to end.

When Sophie did not respond to his knock on the door, Anthony opened it slowly and peered into the room. Something clenched within him when he saw her lying with Benedict, her face still sad despite that she was asleep. He would not wake her. Quietly, he moved to the bedside chair and studied his brother. Gaunt and pale, his face sheened with perspiration, Benedict somehow appeared older and the sight made the Viscount shudder. 

He was still replaying their last conversation in his mind, haunted by the weight of his brother’s words. He wouldn’t allow himself to believe that they were the last he would hear Benedict say, but a dark whisper from within was chastising him for not responding with a goodbye. How does one say goodbye to a younger brother? To a best friend?

Eloise’s recollections gripped him too. He was well aware of his own role within their family and its accompanying limitations. He was charged with steering the ship. He hadn’t seen what his closest brother had done after their father died because he had been too crushed by his own responsibilities and anguish. But a latent part of him also knew, however much he failed to acknowledge or celebrate it, that Benedict was the beating heart of their family and that he himself was not the man capable of healing wounds of grief. 

His siblings were not children anymore. They didn’t need bedtime stories and games. But he couldn’t fathom the yawning pain they would all feel if faced with another loss of such magnitude. And he would be left this time to shoulder that grief alone, and for an even larger family. Protector to a widowed sister. Uncle to a fatherless child. What could he offer to dry their tears? What remedy would prevent them from feeling entirely fractured? What would he do if the heart of their family actually stopped beating?

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @musicismyoxygen84 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys

[dreamwritesimagines]

Enamored [2] - First Impression

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Summary: First impressions are important.

Warnings: Mentions of death and sickness, Regency era society and social rules.

Word Count: 3k

Series Masterlist

Your first night at your father’s house was quiet.

You knew it would be. You knew that when the night came, you would find yourself staring at the ceiling surrounded by the silence, already dreading tomorrow. Getting used to living here wasn’t going to be easy, especially since you were pretty sure that you weren’t welcomed by your father who had decided you were illegitimate all because of false rumors about your mother.

But it wasn’t like you had anywhere else to go now.

You huffed out and tossed and turned in bed before you kicked off the covers and got off the bed. It was pretty clear that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, and you figured perhaps a glass of milk could help so you put your dressing gown on, tied the silk rope around your waist then opened the door to peek your head out. It was completely empty as you assumed it would be, so you made your way downstairs and after spending almost five minutes wandering along the hallways, you finally found the kitchen.

But as soon as you stepped in, you saw the man inside who looked over his shoulder upon hearing your footsteps, then a gasp fell from his lips.

Oh.

The Duke.

He looked exactly like his portraits, that was how you recognized him. He was just a little older, and the stern look he tended to have on his portraits was gone from his face as he stared at you in shock, your mother’s name leaving his lips and you snapped out of your thoughts before you stepped into the light and dropped a curtsy.

“Y/N,” you corrected him. “Your Grace.”

A silence fell upon the kitchen and he blinked a couple of times before pulling himself together.

“Yes—” he said, “Yes, I know. For a moment I…you look just like your mother.”

And nothing like him, which you assumed was one of the many reasons why it was so easy for him to believe you weren’t his.

“Yes, people say that,” you managed to say in a murmur. It was strange to see him in person rather than his portraits and even if you wanted to curse at him, you knew your mother would never want it.

She’d had you promise her when she was sick.

And thinking about your situation from a different perspective, you didn’t have any other choice but to be civil with him. Your mother was gone and you only had some extended family on the other side of the country, all your friends and your mother’s friends were in France and you were—

You were alone, except for Elias. Elias was your only rock in this whole mess, and he was also the only person you trusted, but you didn’t know if he could do anything if your father ended up changing his mind about you being there.

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Welcome to London.”

“Thank you for having me,” you replied drily and he let out a bitter laugh.

“Of course,” he murmured before he downed his glass of water and you walked past him to get the milk on the counter, then filled yourself a glass. You took a big sip, trying to ignore his gaze on you.

“Your mother—” he spoke after a moment. “On her…on her last days, how was she?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to keep the unpleasant memory at bay.

“Fever makes a person see things,” you said after a beat. “That’s what the doctor said. Towards the end, she was sure you were in the room, my lord.”

That made him shut his eyes for a moment as if the weight of your words was too heavy on him but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care about that. It was highly likely that the duke did not have a guilty conscious anyway.

“I shall leave you to your peace,” he said and put down his glass. “Elias says you have your own maid but tell Mrs. Greene to assign someone to take you to the modiste, and whatever else you need. I assume you need new dresses and jewelry for the season, there will be many balls and gatherings.”

You frowned slightly at the implication of him expecting you to attend all of those things as if he wasn’t ashamed of the rumors, but you dropped a curtsy.

“Thank you, your Grace,” you managed to say even if all you wanted was to tell him you didn’t want his help, not after everything.

Perhaps you didn’t want it, but you needed it. You needed his help, at least until you found love and got your happily ever after, which you hoped would be soon.

Then you could put everything else behind you and be happy and free. You were sure that he wanted you elsewhere as well.

“Good night,” he said and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you there almost restless and you heaved a sigh, then downed the milk.

                                          *

You were woken up by a knock on the door next morning. You scrunched up your face before opening your eyes, and turned your head as Lucie stepped inside.

“Bonj— good morning, my lady.”

“Good morning,” you said with a yawn, then sat up in bed. You could see the folded paper in her hand but even without that, the guilty look on her face was more than enough to make you realize that something was happening.

“What is that?” you asked and she lingered by the door for a moment, then walked to pull open the curtains, making you squint at the bright sunlight filling the room. You rubbed at your eyes, then tilted your head.

“Lucie?”

“The breakfast is ready if you wish to eat it.”

“What’s that in your hand?”

She shifted her weight and bit at her lip.

“I couldn’t decide whether to keep it from you, but I gathered you would want to see it.”

You frowned, then patted the spot beside you. She heaved a sigh, then sat down to the edge of the bed, looking down at the folded paper.

“Is it a letter?”

“No,” she said. “But…your brother mentioned a lady called Whistledown yesterday, do you remember?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“Well apparently she’s this influential figure in the ton, do you remember Madame Picard back home?”

“Oh how could I forget about Madame Picard?” you said, making a face. “She ruined Edith’s reputation, she had to marry that man because of her rumors.”

“Yes well, apparently London has its own Lady Picard under the name of Lady Whistledown, and it make it worse, her rumors are both accessible and on paper,” she said and placed the small paper in your lap. You picked it up, skimming the lines.

Dear Reader,

It seems that this season is bound to become much more interesting with the arrival of Duke of Avon’s alleged daughter Lady Y/N in London.

For those of you who are not informed on the scandal that took place years ago, Duke of Avon divorced his wife and sent her to France after accusing her of having an illegitimate daughter with her paramour who happened to be his best friend. The former Duchess, may she rest in peace, vehemently denied those rumors.

It seems as if the Duke has had a change of heart, or is now convinced that Lady Y/N is his own flesh and blood. This Author can’t help but wonder the reason behind this sudden change.

Is it possible that deceased former Duchess was honest from the start?

And dear Mademoiselle Y/N, allow me to welcome you back to London. On behalf of the ton, we can’t wait to see you at the next ball.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

You stared at the paper in your hands, then crumpled it up and tossed it aside, your jaw clenched.

“Of course my mother was honest!” you said, “These wretched rumors, they didn’t even—no one even knows her, they keep lying about her!”

Lucie shot you a sympathetic look and you gritted your teeth.

“Does she have a lot of readers, this…Whistledown woman?”

“I’ve heard the servants say the whole London reads her papers.”

You slipped a little in bed. “Oh, how wonderful. So the whole London knows I’m back and has already heard about my parentage issues.”

“I’m sorry, my lady.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “I have half the mind not to attend the next ball now that I’ve received such a cold, plotting welcome.”

“Well…” Lucie trailed off, “Is it possible you’re forgetting one important thing, my lady?”

“What is it?”

“Your mother would never let you sulk at home when there’s a ball happening.”

A small burst of laughter escaped from your lips and you ran a hand over your face.

“She would give me hell if I proposed such a thing,” you mused and Lucie nodded, with a smile on her face.

“Besides, the nearest ball is a week away. All this buzz should die down by then.”

“For some reason, I doubt that.”

She thought for a moment, “Even if they don’t, you still have to attend.”

“Because my mother would want me to?”

“There’s that of course, and…” she trailed off and stole a look at you. “Aren’t you a little bit curious about the gentlemen of London?”

You gasped, pretending to be shocked. “Lucie!”

She stuck her nose in the air. “What? I’m just saying, I’ve heard things downstairs.”

You sat up straighter, a fire sweeping over your cheeks. “What have you heard?” you asked but before she could even say anything, someone knocked on the door.

“Chérie?”

“I’m awake!” you called out, and Elias opened the door, then stepped in as Lucie stood up.

“Good morning, dear sister,” he said and flung himself on the bed dramatically, “For a minute there I thought you’d sleep forever.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed, pushing at him. “Travelling takes its toll on me.”

“Mm hm,” he said and the crumpled paper caught his attention, so he reached out to grab it, then shot you a look.

“I take it you’ve already seen it?”

“And I take it you were planning to keep it from me?” you asked back and Elias turned a little on the bed, propping his head up on his fist.

“Maybe.”

“It’s vile,” you said. “Lucie tells me she has a lot of readers within the ton.”

“Try everyone,” he muttered. “Not to worry. She should be distracted once you mingle with the crowd.”

“Or the opposite.”

“I forgot how cheerful you are when you wake up,” Elias pointed out, making you poke at him. “Ouch! Fine, alright— we have so much to do today young lady, you can’t stay in bed all lazy.”

“Like what?”

“We’re going to the modiste,” he said and you tilted your head.

“Today?”

“Yes, you need a new wardrobe and she is the best at it.”

“I brought a lot of dresses with me Elias.”

“I know, but some of them might need fixing to fit into British fashion rather than French, so lay them out and I’ll have people come to the house today, they will get them and fix them.”

“So then we’re going to the modiste because…?”

“It’s a new season,” he said. “Father wants you to have around, I don’t know, fifty new dresses minimum so that we can distract the public from the family issues. Give them something else to talk about.”

“I want a black ribbon,” you said after a beat. “For my mourning. I expect that the Duke will not let me wear anything black, but I’d like to have something to symbolize it.”

Elias squeezed at your hand and offered you a small smile.

“A black ribbon and sixty new dresses.”

“I thought you said fifty.”

“I’m going to go up the longer you stay in bed.”

You let out a small laugh and pushed him out of the bed. “Fine then, I will be downstairs after I’ve had my bath. Happy?”

“Delighted!” he called out as he walked out of the room and you shook your head, then turned to Lucie, still smiling.

“Could you please have someone draw me a bath?” you asked her as you got off the bed. “Thank you.”

                                             *

By the time you were ready, you could hear the butler announcing someone but you paid no mind to that. You didn’t want to socialize with the Duke’s guests, and you had plans for the day; Elias had promised you that he would take you to see some sights after you were done at modiste’s. You had picked a lavender colored gown for the first half of the day, appropriate for your mourning but also for strolling around the city.

Your mother would’ve been proud.

You decided to go downstairs to look for Elias, murmuring a song to yourself but as soon as you passed by the drawing room you stopped dead in your tracks and held your breath, your heart getting faster for some reason.

It was the gentleman you had seen from afar when you had first got to London, Elias’s best friend you had heard so much about.

Anthony Bridgerton.

Your eyes hadn’t deceived you earlier, he was very handsome. That had to be the reason why your heart was beating in your throat, and your stomach did a little happy flip when he seemed to notice your gaze on you because he lifted his head from the newspaper he was currently engrossed in and turned to you, a look of—

Surprise?

No, it couldn’t be right. A look of acknowledgement it must’ve been – crossed his face and he stood up from the chair while you stood still by the doorframe, the hallway busy with the servants coming and going.

“….Good afternoon,” you managed to say after a beat and he bowed slightly.

“Lady Y/N.”

Of course. He had to have heard of your name, if not from Elias, then from that wretched woman’s society papers today.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I suppose?” you said with a bright smile and he gave a curt nod.

“Lord Bridgerton.”

“Oh right,” you said, trying your hardest to distract yourself from the way your heart was pacing. You looked behind you, then turned to him again, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet for a second.

“Are you here to see Elias? I can send someone for him if you’d like?”

“I have already sent someone my lady, thank you.”

You lingered at the doorway, stealing a look at him and bit down on your lip. His dark gaze slipped down there but only for a moment before it snapped up again and you swallowed thickly, still unsure of what to do.

And why on earth was your face on fire all of a sudden?

“I…” you trailed off, checking behind you again to make sure there were servants in the hallway that could see you standing there, and that you two weren’t alone. Reaching out to grab at the doorframe, you picked at the wood with your fingernail just so that you could do something with your hands, seeing that his presence was making you nervous. “I’m afraid your traditions are much different than what I’m used to, so I have no option but to shout at you from the doorway.”

A ghost of an amused smile caressed his lips and he took a small step towards the door, the distance still present between you two but not as much as before. Although he was still in the room and you were by the hallway, you couldn’t help but think this was as close as possible without you shouting at each other, given the circumstances. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lucie stepping into the hallway and you shifted your weight from one foot to other.

“Less shouting,” you commented, a bright smiling lighting up your face and he tilted his head.

“Seems to be the ideal amount, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh certainly,” you played along. “And I suppose this is where I thank you for your hospitability.”

He tried to repress a small smirk threatening to pull at his lips. “My hospitability in your own house?”

“No, in London,” you stated. “At least now I know it’s not customary to yell at people from doorways. It should make blending in at the next social gathering much easier.”

“Much easier?”

“A little easier, considering the situation.” you corrected yourself, then shot him a smile. “But one can hope, after all.”

“Chérie, who are you talking to?” Elias’s voice carried out into the hallway and your head whipped around to see him approaching you. When he caught a sight of Lord Bridgerton over your shoulder, a look of realization dawned on his face and he slapped his palm over his forehead.

“I forgot!” he told Lord Bridgerton, making him let out a small chuckle.

“Oh I could tell.” he commented, his dark eyes flitting from your brother to you and you could feel nervousness crashing down on you, leaving you unable to even meet his gaze. Elias’s brows pulled into a frown and he cleared his throat.

“Sister, could you excuse us please?”

You wetted your lips and nodded fervently.

“Of course,” you said. “Um— it was a pleasure to meet you, Lord Bridgerton.”

“An honor, Lady Y/N.”

You lingered on your steps only for a moment before you turned around and made your way to Lucie as your heard the drawing room door close. You let out a breath, pressing a hand over your chest to feel your fast heartbeat and Lucie tilted her head as you leaned back to the wall.

“My lady, are you alright?” she asked as you tried to calm yourself down.

“Yes,” you managed to say, fanning yourself with your hand, “Yes, I just… let’s go out to the yard and take some fresh air, shall we?”

                                           *

Chapter 3

Taglist: @theskytraveler @archer561 @pancakefancake @valsworldofcreativity

@alwaysadreamingoptimist @davnwillcome @breadqueen95 @sarcasm-n-insomnia @spwinkles @a-sunflower-in-bloom @xoxabs88xox @marvels-mistress @xceafh @ca-ro-ea @nightmonkeyparker @marauderskeeper @evxnesco @mathle0matle @notahappystan @divaanya @empireroyals @dancer3205 @artsyle @nxstalgicnxbxdy​ ​ 

[swiftwidget]

MHA Chapter 301 Analysis

“The Wrong Way to Put Out a Fire: Part 1” 

  ***SPOILERS AHEAD***

_______

Who was Rei Todoroki comparing her children to and which child did she see peeking through the door that day?

Chapter 301 is incredibly revealing and shows that a flashback based upon a single character’s point of view is not and cannot be read as the full story. 

What we knew of the Todoroki family - specifically Enji and Rei - mainly came from Shouto’s flashbacks during the Sports Festival and what we essentially overheard the family discuss when the focus is turned on them. 

However! It isn’t the full story! It can even be misleading! 

That is a mind-blowing way to write in a series like this. Just 100% good use of double-meaning and reread value. Horikoshi is honest-to-goodness impressive.

_______

Chapter 301 reveals at least the first half of the downfall of the Todoroki family structure and life. 

We have a marriage built upon an agreement. 

A man with growing power and influence marrying the daughter of an old-money family that had lost its prestige over time. Both parties understood that they had their part to give. Enji gives Rei’s family a continued connection to power, influence, and money while Rei offers her ice quirk to create the kind of child Enji Todoroki wants.

Enji as the Hero Endeavor has at this point already given up on becoming Number 1. He’s seen the gap between himself and All Might and judged that he comes up short. He simply isn’t able to bridge that gap, but he believes a child of his can - given the right quirk combination. 

Enji and Rei have their first child, Touya, and have a second, Fuyumi, to be his companion and support. 

Enji told Touya what he was going to be, built up the expectation (and pressure) that he’d teach him to be the Number 1 hero. But Touya’s body and quirk don’t match. His quirk harmed his body. At no fault of his own, Touya was judged as incapable of fulfilling Endeavor’s vision. 

All Touya wanted was his father’s attention and affection. He pushed himself to prove he still could be a great hero with his quirk, and hurt himself trying to get the attention he needed as a child. 

Enji, being an extremely well-written flawed character, wants two things: 1) to continue his vision and 2) to get his first child to stop hurting himself. So, he does what he believes would solve both problems. Continue pushing for the successful mix of quirks. His thought process likely being: If Touya could see that he couldn’t bridge the gap and wouldn’t have to, surely he’d stop. 

But to Touya, he’s being replaced. Left behind. Erased. 

Being cast aside and told to try something else only fuels his desperation to prove himself. It fuels his anger too. He continues to self-destruct. 

And he lashes out. 

Where was Rei during all of this? 

Rei, meanwhile, had been upholding her end of the marriage arrangement. Having child after child put her under more and more strain, exhausting her. Maybe she believed that Enji’s plan would get Touya to stop. Maybe she believed that they all had their part to endure to be in this family. 

Then, Touya lashed out at her and the infant Shouto with his flames. 

I think this will be continued in the next chapter, but this is what we already know:

Touya lashed out at Rei and Shouto when Enji pushed him away

Shouto lived mostly separated from his siblings for the majority of his childhood, including Touya who was still present

Enji put Rei in a mental hospital when she poured boiling water on Shouto

Touya’s “death” occurred shortly after Rei was sent to the hospital

If Touya lashed out only once, there wouldn’t be a need to separate Shouto from him for so long. It’s likely Touya lashed out more than once. As sad as it is, it is also possible that he was not put through proper therapy and instead was sedated or punished. 

If Touya wasn’t getting the help he needed and he lashed out with his fire more than once?

How do you stop your child from burning you, your other children, or himself? 

How do you put out a fire?

You pour water on it. 

You use whatever water is nearby. Over and over for as many times as he ignites himself. 

That was Rei’s job as Touya’s mother. When he was upset and burst into flames, she said it herself: “We have to cool him down!” 

So when Shouto overheard her talking to her mother in his flashback, what he understood was that he was being compared to Endeavor and his mother couldn’t stand to raise him anymore. 

But what did Rei see? Who?

She saw Touya as he was when his hair was still turning white. Her baby boy, Touya, overhearing her compare the children to him and rejecting him. Saying she shouldn’t be the one to raise Touya because she can’t help him when she can clearly see he needs help. And in that state of extreme stress, she thought Touya had come to lash out again. 

So she grabbed the water she had on hand and poured. 

_______

This chapter is incredibly revealing and just the title card itself seems to point in this direction. 

“That’s why I’m here.” Rei is stepping up again to put out a fire. This time hopefully the right way. 

Enji was a terrible father, but not just for the reasons we believed we knew. He never let go of his vision and expected Touya to give up for the same reasons he did. Endeavor pushed Shouto to succeed not only for his vision but also to save the life of Touya whose drive he couldn’t understand. He was and is an extremely flawed and desperate man. 

Rei hurt Shouto, but not because he reminded her of Endeavor. She was scrambling to put out Touya’s flames, trying to do what she could with what little support, mental stability, and options she believed she had available. Pushed to the brink, she slipped up and mistook Shouto for Touya. 

Enji and Rei are both incredibly well-written flawed parents. We’re only now seeing the fuller picture.  

_______

This is in part a continuation and expansion of this post. 

This post is based on my real-time realization discussion on the Toshinoumu discord manga chat page. If you want to read the Toshinoumu AU/ “I Am...” Series, check out our @toshinoumu blog for more information. 

_______

Additional fun/sad fact courtesy of @aoimikans​: Rei’s favorite flower is a blue lily. Lily roots and bulbs have been used for medicinal purposes. They were boiled into teas to treat stomach disorders, fevers, and assist women in labor. They have also been used topically to treat sores and burns. The essential oil is used to help treat depression. 

_______

ALSO I SEE YOU DOCTOR YOU CAN’T HIDE! 

[xinxiaogato]

— live to tell the tail

summary. you unfortunately lived in a universe where general gorou had found out ms. hina was… himself. and just your luck: gorou’s first impression of you was a crazed devotee of the ms. hina fan club, but you had only been in the wrong place at the wrong time. will you live to tell the tail?

love interests. gn!reader x a watatsumi general, an inazuman vagrant, the balladeer, and the kreideprinz.

warnings. infinite pet puns, referenced character death, weapons, swearing, blood, alcohol, harassment, and mentions of war.

word count. 1,150

chapter twelve ⌇ drop the cattitude

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“sir, how did the meeting go?” you inquired gorou, fighting tooth and nail with your flushed skin.

with a cross of his arms over his chest, gorou bypassed the question and put you in the hot seat. “did you leave because you were feeling unwell, reader? you seem like you have a fever.”

“do they?” kazuha piped up with concern, approaching from behind and lightly pressing the back of his hand against your forehead.

gorou’s tail instinctually shot upright at that, and he blurted out, “reader, can you spare a moment?”

“...o-of course,” you sputtered, stepping away from kazuha and politely nodding to him as a mild form of bowing.

you thought that was the end of your conversation with the roaming samurai, but the impish smile traced across kazuha’s lips spoke a thousand words that could be summed up with “i believe in you, reader”, as he saw this as a golden opportunity for you to get some alone time with gorou.

could the ground of teyvat not swallow you up any sooner?

in complete and utter silence, you and gorou meandered past several dummies used for target practice and some lances on the ground that were neglected during the fort’s restoration. you stooped down to pick them up, which elicited a quick directive from gorou to leave them alone.

when you returned to his side, a wave of guilt washed over gorou, just like yesterday when he was ministering to your cuts and abrasions.

life on the battlefield called for a general with an ironclad heart, but it still hurt each time he lost a familiar.

a soldier that fell while under gorou’s command was a man with a significant other and children waiting for him at home. a man with unparalleled allegiance to protecting his nation’s citizens. a man who had ambitions, hopes, and desires—his own form of a vision despite not being an allogene.

gorou still couldn’t get used to it no matter how much he had witnessed during his time as a fighter, and had kazuha not been alerted of your life in peril the day before… 

“what did you want to talk about, sir?” you queried in a courteous manner, drawing his attention to your slightly dilated pupils.

gorou wasn’t so sure of the answer himself. the blood that rushed to his head at the height of a battle had randomly surged forward when he purloined your company from kazuha… which was really uncalled for.

“i wanted to know your opinion on… m-mountaineering,” gorou finally quavered. he immediately bit his tongue after, but the words had already tumbled out of his mouth.

i’ve gone insane! he brooded over shamefully. it was ridiculous for the adroit leader of a military force to pull you over for something so trivial.

mild bewilderment commingled with a trace of uncertainty that flashed through your eyes. if you expressed a dislike toward mountaineering, would things just get worse before they could’ve gotten better between you and him?

you stifled an awkward laugh behind your hand. “um, general, i don’t know if you could tell during our trip to yashiori island, but even a flight of stairs in the city winds me…

“i think mountaineering really suits you though!” you appended, partially to kiss up to him.

an unexpected warmth climbed into gorou’s heart. “what makes you say so?”

gorou couldn’t say he was the most confident about his figure. sure, he maintained tip-top shape and worked up a sweat during the daily routine of exercises he crafted for optimal results…

…but no matter how many deadlifts, planks, and squats gorou did, he couldn’t get himself to have a similar build as that of the other men in watatsumi’s armed forces. when they would go to the aisa bathhouse after a long day of training, one could find their revered general a bit scrunched up in the corner, bashful about his physique.

caught off guard, you maundered, “well, mountaineering isn’t easy. my old friend from mondstadt gave it a shot, and then he had his unconscious body hauled back to the city by the branch master of our adventurer’s guild. it takes a lot of physical effort, so you look like you fit the bill, sir."

you explained this in a long-winded way as you did your absolutely damndest not to make eye contact with gorou’s very bare stomach. it was as clear as day that the guy worked out.

gorou’s lips quirked up into a little grin. typically, his associates didn’t hesitate to take playful jabs at his small frame. even her excellency treated him like a child for his not-so-impressive height, rubbing the spot on his head between his ears whenever she had the chance.

peering over gorou’s shoulder, you noticed that the sun was sinking into the horizon where the land met the sky. 

i haven’t written in that stupid notepad today! you agonized with a bitter taste in your mouth. you still couldn’t believe kazuha hopped onto the gorou x reader train without a second thought.

“it’s late, so i won’t keep you for long,” gorou said, sensing the urgency in your shaking eyes. “best to turn in for the night, and rest well. your training begins tomorrow.”

“looking forward to it,” you couldn’t help sarcastically drawling as you twirled around to head for your tent. “see you in the morning, general.”

on the spur of the moment, gorou stepped forward to clasp you by the hand, making your heart do a somersault. you and gorou dropped your gazes down to your touching fingers, as you both weren’t expecting that to happen.

gorou’s furry ears laid tightly against the top of his head, uncharacteristic of their usually alert stance.

“reader, i’m… i’m glad i got to talk to you today.”

seeing the corners of gorou’s lips lift, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise and your eyebrows arch upward. for a second, you thought you imagined his words.

he was glad?

you weren’t the type of person to blush at the drop of a hat, but there was no mistaking the heat creeping up your neck and into your face. your relationship with gorou had gotten off on the wrong foot, so…

“i’m glad, too,” you spoke gently, slipping your hand out of his. “um, good night.”

without looking back at gorou, you scurried away like a little rat and burst through the flap of your tent, shaken by the tingly feeling still dancing on the palm of the hand gorou grabbed.

your eyes fell on your notepad that you had stowed away under your pillow. all you wanted to do was just hit the sack, so you hoped the divine priestess didn’t mind that this entry was basically a filler.

day three — my stomach feels weird, but, like, a good weird. is that normal? the general must be so popular.

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[schrodingersauthorii]

In honor of Salvage Ch. 18, I have prepared the first chapter of my Phoenix Salvage AU. @muffinlance , there’s one scene that’s 100% an improvement in my overall writing structure I pulled from you, and I bet NOBODY can tell which one it is.

—————————

The young soldier must have somehow heard the blade coming. He didn’t have time to cry out, but the panic stains his face. Not quite the easy death Hakoda wanted, but unavoidable, and still far kinder than leaving him to the sea.

Two years of fighting had left many too-young Fire Nation soldiers dead on this deck, but this was different than a battle. Different even than a mercy kill, back when they thought maybe Fire Nation prisoners would simply accept a fate other than death.

The soldier wouldn’t have left them any choice in the end. But he hadn’t forced their hands. Not yet.

One of the men murmured a prayer, a simple benediction for the journey to the next life. This wasn’t the clean up after a battle, and there might not Fire elders speaking rites for the kid somewhere across the sea. The soldier might only have what they give him, and they're pragmatic people- not cruel.

The Fire Nation burns their dead. That would be kindest, but if they could safely build a pyre, then they could have safely kept a firebending prisoner. The young soldier have a sea burial.

The corpse vetoed this. Violently.

Akake and Tuluk yelped, dropping the suddenly burning body onto the wooden deck.

Fire shouldn’t be green and purple, Hakoda barely had to think, and the fire disappeared. He blinked the sparks out of his eyes, and the deck was as clear. No fire, purple-green or otherwise. Just a vaguely soldier shaped mound of ash.

Hakoda reached down to touch it: barely warm, and not so much as a soot mark beneath it.

Something stirred. Something tiny. Hakoda grabbed it without giving himself time to think about it. Whatever it was squirmed frantically in his hand.

Hakoda looked down, expecting- something. A still beating heart, perhaps. A reptile or worm, at the very least. Something repulsive and macabre. But a tiny, down-feathered bird trembled in his hand. He brushed ash off of soft, orange wings. Even filthy, the fledgling glowed like sunrise.

“It’s a bird,” Hakoda said, dumbfounded.

“A bird,” Tuluk repeated.

The bird cheeped in distress. Hakoda started to pet it, but it nearly fell to the deck in its effort to escape his hand. He quickly cupped it with both hands instead. The bird pecked at his fingers.

The entire deck stared in stunned silence. What were they supposed to do with a bird?

————————

Tolko presented a box hastily stuffed with hay from the albatross-pidgeon coop. Hakoda carefully dropped the chick inside. It burrowed down into the loose “nest,” still cheeping incessantly.

“He’s so cute,” Tolko gasped. “What are we going to do with him?”

Tolko stared at the bird with love already in his eyes. The bird stared back with… suspicion. At the very least.

Hakoda’s temples begun a warning throb.

“Ask Kustaa if he can… find anything,” he finally said.

Tolko cooed at the bird as he walked away.

Hakoda felt a dreadful portent hum in his bones: this would not end well, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

------

“What is that?” Kustaa asked.

“A bird,” Tolko said. And held the chick up to Kustaa’s face, as if not seeing the puffball was the problem.

“Which might also be a Fire Nation soldier. The Chief wants to know if you can find anything.”

“A soldier.”

“Yeah. He was drifting past, we fished him out, but he was. You know. A Fire Nation soldier. And he said he was a firebender. So.”

“So what?”

“He kind of...died. And spontaneously combusted. The bird was in the ashes. See?”

Tolko brushed the bird’s head and held up a sooty finger. The chick couldn’t really floof in anger- it was already at maximum floof- but it gave its best impression of outrage anyway. Tolko hastily placed it on the table before it could tumble out of his hand.

“This is a bird,” Kustaa said. “I’m a healer, not an ornithologist. Or a shaman. All I’m qualified to say whether or not YOU have brain rot.”

“Umm…” Tolko mumbled.

“Any headaches? Blurred vision? Acute pain in your arms or legs? Motor difficulties?” Kustaa asked as he prodded Tolko’s arms.

“No?”

“Then we’ll work with the assumption that Spirits were involved, not Swamp Fever. Hopefully, a minor Spirit.”

Kustaa leaned down in front of the bird.

“Can you understand us: peck two times, then three.”

Low and behold, the bird did… then stared at them and pecked a deliberate pattern of some sort.

“I don’t understand that,” Kustaa said.

A storm of outraged peeping.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Are you a Spirit, one peck for yes, two pecks for no.”

Two pecks, and more outraged peeping.

“...Are you a bird?”

In hindsight, it was incredibly bold of them to assume Zuko knew more than they did about anything.

--------

Tuluk entered Hakoda’s office after a single knock, and Hakoda’s temples immediately resumed pounding.

“Apparently, the bird insists he is the soldier, and NOT a Spirit,” Tuluk said.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. And resolved to make an offering soon. There were stories about shapeshifting Spirits who forgot they weren’t human.

“Keep an eye on him,” Hakoda said. “We’ll head to the nearest port and find an Earth Sage. This is exactly the kind of trouble we don’t need.”

Tuluk nodded grimly.

A thought struck Hakoda. “How did…?”

Tuluk sighed. “Lots of questions. Lots of patience. Kustaa is positively charmed with the little menace.”

“He’s a bird.”

“A mean one,” Tuluk agreed. “But he’s warmed to Kustaa and Tolko, for stars knows why.”

Hakoda didn’t like the idea of a Spirit getting… attached to his crew, but he liked the idea of an upset Spirit on his ship even less.

“Keep an eye on them, please,” Hakoda said.

Tuluk nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best, but that’s a conversation you need to have with Kustaa and Tolko. Probably the rest of the crew, too.”

Hakoda’s headache sharpened with knife-like intensity. Tuluk eyed him with concern.

“Chief. Nobody will blame you if you need a drink before that. Kustaa’s almost ordered a shipwide medicinal order.”

Hakoda sighed.

“After,” he promised. And didn’t clarify after what.

—————————-

Their youngest crewman tucked the surly creature into his parka, from where it eyed everyone and everything with deep suspicion. Tolko kept up a mostly one-sided commentary, which the soldier-bird seemed surprisingly engaged with.

“Do you know his name?” Punuk asked as Tolko showed the bird their snack break offerings.

“No,” Tolko said through a mouthful of salted fish. “It’s the character for ‘righteous rule,’ but we couldn’t figure out the pronunciation. So Birdie it is.”

“Birdie” cheeped aggressively enough to attract the other crewmen’s attention for the first time in hours. There was still work to be done, and his constant noise quickly faded into the background.

“That’s terrible. How about… Sparky? Ember?”

“Blaze.”

“Inferno.”

“Red.”

“You can’t call him red, he’s pink.”

“He’s definitely more orange than pink.”

“Orange still isn’t red.”

Ragnalok tossed an empty water skin at the pair.

“Stop torturing the poor guy. He already died once today.”

The trio went quiet.

“Way too soon, man,” Panuk said.

Birdie was… worryingly quiet for several hours after that.

-------

Tolko roused in the middle of the night, awakened by a faint stirring of downy feathers and soft cooing. Birdy was awake. Tolko couldn’t see it, but dawn must be on the horizon.

Birds liked dawn. So did firebenders, presumably. It was early, but Tolko wasn’t tired-tired, so…

Tolko scooped Birdy up in one hand and slid out of his hammock. “We’ll go top deck,” he whispered as he tucked Birdy into his collar.

Birdy cheeped in a maybe grumpy, maybe affirmative way. But it was soft, so Tolko didn’t think he was upset. Birdy was very, very good at communicating when he was upset, bird or not.

It still seemed uncharacteristic. And Birdy was slumping on Tolko’s shoulder in a way he hadn’t yesterday.

Tolko scooped Birdy back into his hand, and Birdy just… cheeped quietly. Cheeped once and fell silent.

Okay. It was early: Birdy might just be tired. It was a Thing, that birds got sleepy when it was dark- even if it wasn’t actually night. They’d go topdeck and watch the sunrise, and if Birdie still seemed off he’d come back and wake Kustaa.

Tolko climbed the last stair just as the sun broke free of the horizon. Birdie chirped softly again, and Tolko held him out into the light.

“It’s beautiful,” Tolko said.

And Birdie once again caught fire on the Spirits damned deck.

[bacarasbabe]

I have a bunch of WIPs right now and I think maybe rambling about them will help me finish one or two? I don't know. Give me input if you'd like on any of these. Do these sound interesting to you? Any requests of your own?

Chapter 23 of BTDT - I have a rough outline. I know what I want to happen and we're finally getting back to the smut portion. Like, this is the start of smut that's gonna last 3 to 4 chapters. I just need to get this beginning out of the way and I'm not liking how it flows. I need to get Savage out of the house and Halfbite (though I think she might show up in later chapters too) that way the reader can make a call

Pegging Savage Headcanon - That's basically all this is. It was inspired by a tiktok and the subsequent conversation I had about it with a friend. But it's exactly what it sounds like. Reader asks Savage if she can peg him and Savage gives an enthusiastic yes. It's just that being a zabrak and a force user- he's able to outlast you even when he's on the receiving end lol

Savage sensing you through the force - Inspired by an idea sent to me by a friend. Savage is stuck in a meeting with Maul and his advisors while you're down below in Savages rooms, in his bed, thinking of him. And Savage can't keep his mind from straying from the meeting, watching as you touch yourself to thoughts of him.

Sparring with Maul - the reader is a force user with no master. Obviously Maul is interested in training you but you're doing just fine on your own. Maul decides to test that theory by challenging the reader's skills and is more than impressed with what he sees.

Maul Saves You From The Cold - I think this is going to have to be a long-form fic. It's soul mate based and filled with smut. What happens when Maul finds his soul mate half-dead in the frozen tundra, surrounded by bodies, while his target gets away. Not outlined, and only a couple of paragraphs written. This one.... will probably need to wait I think. At least until after BTDT.

Savage Smut - Just a sex scene I have planned out for Savage. I could probably just make this part of the earlier fic with him that I mentioned. But it's just very detailed in what Savage likes. Specifically watching you, and forgetting to take care of himself because he's too wrapped up in memorizing your every detail.

Quicky in the Archives with Anakin - It's like 90% written. I could post it as is but I think it needs some more substance added to it. Typed it all up on my phone in a fever dream so I think my sentence structure and grammar is too repetitive and needs to be fixed. I could probably get it ready in an afternoon but idk if I like it anymore. I just think that angsty Anakin is so hot. Animated series and Episode 3 Anakin are just wonderful and I want to ruin the man. I think it could be 2 or 3 chapters of smut, all of it exploring Anakin's issues with attachment.