#and he's a Little bit sleep deprived. forgive him

[betonbennett]

...I'm sorry. I miss you.

I—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be sending you this, I—I don't deserve to bother you, not after I hurt you like that.

Yours, as ever,

Jonah

If you are truly so sorry and so sad and miss me so terribly, then perhaps you could consider allowing me some respite in sleep, at least.

[primofate]

Confessions Series - Part 2: Description [Genshin Impact Male Characters]

In a nutshell: He asks if you have your eyes set on someone. You start describing HIS features and watch for his reaction. (Hint: He likes you too)

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Overheard)

Warnings: The usual, haven't written in a while, please forgive mistakes, bit of angst in Diluc (couldn't help it), I am a sleep deprived mother, some profanity, for some reason did not feel like writing Zhongli though he's one of my faves.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gaming, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Wriothesley, Xiao, gn!reader

Personal Favourites: Diluc, Wriothesley

Aether

"Yeah, I do," you start. "He's very selfless...He's always running around helping other people,"

Aether nods, intense gaze in his eyes while listening.

"Hmm...He has...a partner. Like a companion he always travels with..."

Aether's brows start to furrow and his head tilts the slightest bit. Paimon flying next to him has no clue who it is whatsoever.

"He's not originally from Teyvat...He's on a journey, you see..." this is where you start getting nervous

You see it click in Aether's head slowly, and his eyes start to widen the slightest bit

"Hey, that sounds an awful lot like you, traveller! Why have we never met this person before, Y/N?" Paimon asks and you only smile.

"P-Paimon," Aether glances at her and then back to you. It's silent for a moment. Paimon is super confused.

But Aether being Aether didn't want to get the wrong idea and racks up the courage to ask you one last question. "He's on a journey...to look for his twin sister?"

You smile the brightest smile you've ever given him. "Correct!"

"Ah...Well..." Aether starts to feel the heat on his cheeks. "That's..." he doesn't say anything else for a few seconds. "Don't get me wrong, I'm just...I'm happy!"

Is basically flustered when he realizes you've technically just confessed to him.

Albedo

"Simply put, I think he's dedicated to his craft," You shrug and smile

"...An admirable trait," he responds.

"He's frequently in Dragonspine. He spends a bit of time in his lab there," you decide to just go straight for the obvious.

Albedo pauses. "I...see..." Turns to you with a small smile "I wasn't aware that you were that fond of me,"

"Now you know," you simply say and try to play it off with a wave of your hand.

He chuckles under his breath and strides over to you while saying. "Well then, I suppose it's my turn to talk about the person I've set my eyes on,"

Proceeds to describe you accurately, down to your likes and dislikes. In his eyes, you seem like something so precious and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

Alhaitham

"Hmm... Sort of," you explain. "He's a little...hard to reach,"

Alhaitham "...and you still pursue him?"

You laugh a bit "I'm hardly pursuing him, I'm just...observing. I like watching him, even though he has the most unreadable face I've seen,"

Alhaitham goes quiet for a moment. He catches on fast, he already has an idea but is cautious about what he says. "...I see," he doesn't ask anything else, but you continue to offer information.

"He likes reading. Really smart guy...but kind of no nonsense type. Very straight to the point," You begin to feel a little nervous so you pretend to read your own book with a small shrug.

The silence is deafening.

"I suspect that type of person will be hard to put up with," he suddenly says aloud and you chuckle in response.

"Possibly, but he seems to be putting up with me too...I guess?"

He suddenly closes his book and leans forward to pry the one in your hands away. He locks his gaze with you. "...'Putting up' is hardly the word I would use." his lips twitch the slightest bit before continuing. "He has little to no patience for other people...so if he keeps you around...perhaps it signals something else,"

"Something else...As in, I'm special?"

Again he quiets for a moment, before he stands up, chair scraping the floor. "...Precisely," he turns to start walking out of the library, waving a hand behind him. "I'll pick you up in the morning tomorrow,"

Ayato

"I do, but he's a very busy sort of man,"

Ayato "Is that so?" he pours tea for you.

"Quite. He's also a very important person,"

He hums and watches the billowing steam from the tea. "It sounds as if I might know this person," but he genuinely doesn't know it's him, he just thinks its another noble.

"...You most definitely know him. He has a sister. Lovely girl." This is where you avert your gaze from him in fear of him instantly connecting the dots.

He talks in pauses "A...sister..." His mind is starting to make connections but he can't be quite sure yet. So he prods further. "...Does she happen to have a vision?"

"A cryo vision holder, yes," you're biting the inside of your lip at this point. There's a moment of silence before you hear Ayato laughing rather gleefully, like he was amused by a story.

"I see." he ends with a chuckle. "I apologize for being so busy, Y/N," he smiles at you "I promise I'll do my best to arrange my priorities in order to spend more time with you,"

Baizhu

"He takes his job too seriously and can be quite reckless...Sometimes he even puts himself in danger,"

Changsheng catches on immediately. The snake had already known for a while. Baizhu was just being dense. "Oh here we go," the snake half whines.

Baizhu gives it a weird look before turning his attention back to you. "That does sound reckless,"

"I've told him a couple of times to think about himself too...but I guess he's just really passionate about his job,"

Baizhu sort of shrugs, "What IS his job?"

"...Well for starters he owns a pharmacy around town,"

To Baizhu the realization hits all too slowly. It's not that he was slow or dense, but he was having a hard time believing that it was him you were talking about, specially when you hadn't said it outfront.

"...You do realize I'm the only one who owns a pharmacy around town?" he asks, eyes piercing through you and awaiting your answer.

Changsheng is the one who answers for you. "Yes you ridiculous doctor, Y/N's pertaining to you!"

It's the first time you've seen him blush and he turns his head away when he does so. "I-I see, well...that's rather, unexpected...but not unwelcome,"

Clears his throat "Just give me a moment"

Changsheng would roll its eyes if it could.

Bennett

"Has a lot of energy...Sometimes I wonder where he gets all of it. I really like him for that though."

Deflates as soon as you start talking about your "crush". What kind of answer was he expecting anyway? That you had eyes for him?

"He has a bit of a...problem when it comes to luck," you continue

Bennett stops, you look at him and you can practically see the gears in his head starting to turn a little faster.

"Y-Y/N? Are you talking about..." then the gears suddenly stop. "Oh what am I saying, it can't be. Ahahaha! Let's go!" starts walking again as if nothing happened

Your jaw drops and you're forced to just DIRECTLY tell him you're talking about him.

"...Oh...Oh! F-For real?! Oh...Sorry... I just thought... there's no way! B-But, I'm really glad! Really!"

Chongyun

"Hmm...He's a little shy...but he's very responsible,"

Chongyun stares at you intently and nods as if taking notes.

"He doesn't like spicy stuff,"

Chongyun nods twice, eagerly.

"He's very dedicated in learning about thaumaturgy,"

Chongyun blanks out, brows furrow but still nods. Slowly.

"He's really good with a claymore too!"

Chongyun stops and stares at you, you see a hint of red gracing his cheeks "Y/N...You can't possibly be...talking about... m-m-m-"

Can't seem to say it, so you outright say that it is, in fact, him.

Combusts into a tomato red

Cyno

"How do I say this...He's a pretty strict guy." The two of you are playing Invokation TCG during this convo.

"Mmhmm..." Cyno is focused on his cards, frankly he doesn't give a craps ass who you're into. He didn't even know why he asked, he just dug himself a hole.

"...but he really only takes his work seriously. It's his job to be serious, I guess. I think that's what Matras need to do," he finished his turn and its yours now, though he's still studying his cards intently. Until you get to the Matra part.

"He's a Matra?" You rarely see a surprised face on Cyno so you focus your gaze on him. "Which one?" He further asks. Honestly he looks about to murder someone.

You blank out a bit at how intense his stare was, "Well...You know. That one, the one who's really into Invokation TCG,"

He immediately follows up without missing a beat "I don't know anyone else who's into--" then it clicks.

It was so damn silent for a good 10 seconds. You clear your throat, tear your eyes off him "Um, it's your turn,"

STILL doesn't budge until he finally goes back to his cards with a whisper, you can't really tell but he looks slightly bashful and you can barely, BARELY hear him "...If I win then we go on a date,"

"Okay, and if you lose?"

Cyno "...I'm not gunna lose,"

"See, I told you he's a really serious guy,"

Dainsleif

"I think he's a very dedicated person," you get lost in thought a little, thinking about him. "Whenever I look at him...Sometimes I feel as if there's a certain sadness in him... Perhaps he blames himself for not being able to protect his nation,"

He IMMEDIATELY knows. And he knows that you hurt for him too. How could he not?

"He searches for answers... I don't know for how long, I suppose a long, long time," you close your eyes, imagining how long he must have been wandering Teyvat.

You only open your eyes when you feel a hand brush against yours. He's looking straight at you, neither happy nor sad. "...You don't have to feel that way, for my circumstances,"

The brush against your hand disappears and reappears next to your cheek, his fingers gently resting on it "...Knowing that you feel that way, has taken away some of the burden that I shoulder,"

His gaze suddenly hardens and his voice drops to a whisper, "But please, just don't end up in the same way as everyone else,"

Diluc (I don't know why I end up writing a whole novel for this guy. I guess he's my OG favourite)

You pause for a moment, wondering how to describe Diluc. "...Sometimes... I feel as if I know a lot about him and yet... he's still far off in the distance,"

Diluc, rifling through paperwork, doesn't even look at you. "...That tells me nothing about him," there's a bit of bite in his statement.

You sigh a little, "I mean, simply said he's a hardworking man. He always has Mondstadt's best interests in mind...but he prefers to work alone,"

He's silent, but you can still hear the paper shuffling.

"....but people love him. They care for him. I suppose I understand why he keeps a distance but..." at this point you don't even realize that you're just rambling and staring into space. Sort of in a daze of thinking out loud. "...isn't it lonely? ...I suppose I shouldn't assume how he feels. Maybe he's fine with it...I just wonder how long till he sees us..." there's silence, no ruffle of papers, you're still just staring at the bookshelf and you continue in a monotone voice. "...or sees me,"

You blink, and all of a sudden its as if a magic spell is cast on you and you wake up to the reality that you've been rambling about him. You sit up straight "Oh," then turn to him with a careful smile. You don't think he knows what or who you're talking about anyway. "I better get going," you stand, "Jean must be waiting for me."

You leave, and he doesn't stop you.

You don't really think anything of it, feeling as if your whole monologue was very vague...but to your surprise he knocks at your door in the evening, there's a bit of rain falling.

"Diluc? You're drenche--"

"I see you,"

The determination in his voice lulls you to keep quiet and only stare up at him, wondering if he had more to say, but instead of saying something, he leans in, wrapping his arms around you and resting his forehead on your shoulder, as if he had been defeated.

You only welcome his embrace, and, for the first time in a long time. Diluc finally feels like he's home.

Gaming

"Passion!" You nod your head as you say it. "He knows what he wants to do and is incredibly dedicated to it!"

Gaming looks surprised, has no idea you're talking about him. "Huh! That's really cool!" He thinks he's the total opposite. "Wish I could be as dedicated as him."

You kind of laugh out loud and he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head. "What?"

"Gosh you really sell yourself short," you shake your head "Anyway, this guy, right, he kinda works two jobs," you put out your hand to count one and two "One, for the Secure Transport Agency and two, he's in a Wushou Troupe,"

Gaming instantly straightens his back and looks at you wide-eyed. You figure you had to be direct when it came to him otherwise he'd never get it with how modest he was.

"...You're...talking about...me?" You smile at him sympathetically.

"You know, Gaming, I wish you saw yourself the way others saw you. You're a great person,"

Big smile, but legit looks like he's about to cry. "Between the two of us? I think you're greater Y/N,"

Heizou

"...Honestly he's kind of a flirt," you raise your eyebrows at the fact and kind of question yourself why you like this kind of person. "Makes me wonder if he does that to everyone, you know?"

Heizou hums and puts his hand under his chin in a "thinking position"

"That's not enough evidence to go by. Perhaps we can investigate this guy together to see if he's worthy,"

You look at him, pursing your lips while musing and giving him a suspicious look. You're not sure if he's figured it out.

He's got no idea. I mean, it was a pretty general description. "Any distinguishing features?" he asks.

You look at him in a deadpan manner. "Red hair, I guess. And moles under his eyes,"

He looks back at you with a matching blank face.

Then breaks into a wide, close eyed grin. "I see! From experience, that person is truly trustworthy,"

You sigh a little, "Is he though?"

He chuckles heartily. "I promise you he is," offers you his hand with a genuine smile. "Let me show you,"

Itto

"Ummm... big, tall, strong looking guy. Intimidating at first look but he's actually a dork," you explain.

Itto crosses his arms above his chest with an unamused face. "Tch! No way! Ain't no one taller than me in Inazuma!" Then he looks smug again. "Anyway, keep goin'. What else?" Only asked you because he wants to see what your "type" is.

"...Popular? Nah... Infamous is the word, I think. He kinda gets into a lot of trouble,"

Itto raises a brow "You serious? Whaddyou want with someone like that?" as if he wasn't a troublemaker himself.

"I mean... He also loves life and somehow always sees the good side of things."

Itto "Eh... guess that's a good thing..." folds his arms behind his head and huffs.

This guy is never gunna get it so you drop more obvious hints. "He's an oni who has his own gang."

For a split second he looked like he was going to get it, and then... "WHAT?! There's another oni who wants to challenge the Arataki Gang?"

"That's not what I--"

punches his fist onto his palm "Lead the way Y/N, let me at 'em!"

"I'm talking about you!"

"Huh?"

"Itto, there's no other oni around town!" leave it to him to make you exasperated.

He quiets for a few seconds. "...But Y/N..."

You expectantly stare at him, curious what he was going to say about your confession.

"...Did you just call me a dork?"

Of course that's what he picks up on.

When he finally processes it though, he's stoked and on an all time high.

Kaeya

"...good at talking to people, and he knows it... Exudes charisma like he breathes air," You're saying this with a glare.

He chuckles and rests his head on his fist. "Why, pray tell, do you look angry when saying that?"

"Not angry..." you mumble under your breath, eyes trailing away from him. "Just... probably a lot of people like him,"

"And you don't like that?" He smirks. He totally knows.

"...No...Well...I'm okay with it... It's just... I think he's so much more than what he shows to others,"

That, he wasn't expecting. He actually feels genuinely touched.

"Sure he jokes around a lot...Is good at making people feel comfortable...but he's also kind...and you can always count on him," there's a faraway gaze in your eyes now, a small smile on your face. "To me, he's...a safe space."

Kaeya's smile drops. It looks like he's unhappy and you think that maybe you've made a mistake. Still...there's no way he knows that it's him, right? It was kinda vague...

You're about to stand and excuse yourself but he catches your wrist easily. "...You know..." he starts, meeting you eye to eye. He looks at you as if he's looking into your soul, his eyes the gentlest you've seen them.

"You make it so hard, not to fall deeper in love with you,"

Lyney (I have no idea how this ended up so dramatic)

"He isn't exactly a trickster...but he has a lot of tricks up his sleeve,"

Lyney "Oh?" Raises an eyebrow. Something kind of clicks in him, but he shakes it off. "The good kind or the bad kind?"

You stall a little, thinking of the answer, knowing that he's Fatui. "The...good...kind,"

"You don't sound very sure," he gives you a lopsided smile.

"It's complicated," you admit. "Regardless of the circumstances though, I think he's a great magician,"

You watch his face turn into surprise quite quickly, but he still looks and feels unsure of himself. "Oh, perhaps...I can learn a thing or two from him?"

Your smile turns forced and hard. He can't be serious? He STILL doesn't know, or...what?

"I...Well..." You don't know what to say next, but he seems to get the idea.

"Sorry, have I put you in a hard place? Ahaha..." Scratches the back of his head. "My apologies, I was just curious,"

This, for some reason, really puts you off and you feel as if you've been rejected, even though you technically had not outright told him that you're talking about him.

It seems silly for you to get upset, but you are. So you stand, and make a request of him. "Can we... just pretend this conversation didn't happen?" and you give him some sort of excuse that you need to run an errand or something, and you're off, leaving him feeling...guilty. But he doesn't know why. Or does he?

Lyney would look like the type of person who would be confident about himself. But, really, as a magician, he had to be 1000% sure about something before he went ahead with it, and so...that's where his doubt stemmed from.

Lynnette is really the one who knocks some sense into him. "...and you...let Y/N leave?" after hearing the story from him.

"Oh, Lyney... Regardless of what Y/N feels... For you, next to Freminet and I, is there someone else that you love dearly?"

That's how he ends up at your doorstep. Though you've seen his disappearing rose trick hundreds of times, he was the most sincere at that moment, when he says sorry that he didn't get the hint and to give him a chance.

Neuvillette

"Serious person. He seems to put his work first, above all else," you say. "I respect him a lot for that,"

Neuvillette is interested in what you say, but doesn't know at all that it's him. "He does sound quite respectable," he says while looking through some files.

"A long time ago he said that he feels like he's an outsider...but really I feel like there isn't anyone who knows Fontaine the way that he does,"

Neuvillette, moves the file he was reading downwards, just to look at you questioningly. "He's from Fontaine?" this was surprising to him.

"Well...he currently resides in Fontaine, yes," you nod.

"Ah," he answered curtly. "And I have never met him?" he asks.

"...He's very busy." you bite your lip, about to say something and you know that the next sentence is the point of no return. "He's the Iudex...so it's hard to catch him,"

You swear you can hear your heart hammering in your chest.

You see him put his files down and just stare at you with a sort of...unsure look.

His shoulders relax, he wasn't even aware he had been tense that whole time. "That... must have taken a lot of consideration and courage to say," he clears his throat.

You only nod your head slowly, moving your gaze away from him with an awkward smile. Hand absentmindedly grabbing a book and flipping through the pages...you had no idea what you were doing out of nervousness.

"I apologize...I'm unfamiliar with what to do in these kinds of situations... However," he pauses and seems to think carefully about what he was going to say next. "Please don't take it as a rejection. I'd be honored to navigate this with you, if you would so graciously have me,"

Scaramouche

"He's an asshole," you bite back a laugh.

He instantly knows.

"Actually he acts all tough only to give in to his inner-kind-of-agreeable-personality,"

He snorts

"What? Am I wrong?" you challenge him. You KNOW that he knows. The two of you have been hovering around each other for a while, and there's a certain closeness between the two of you. Though that line was never crossed.

He doesn't answer you back but prods you more. "Is that all? You like that he's an asshole? Are you some type of masochist?"

You almost laugh. "No, you moron. I'm saying he has a weird way of showing he cares. He's always biting my head about not being careful enough. But if he really didn't care he wouldn't be screaming at me, you know what I mean?"

Scaramouche grumbles something under his breath and crosses his arms, turning away from you.

"Say that again?" You ask, not hearing what he said.

"...I said, you're not as stupid as I thought you were," shrugs his concealed embarrassment off and turns back to you all nonchalant again. "Anyway, stop yapping and get going, we got things to do,"

Snatches your hand and starts pulling you to walk with him.

Tartaglia (I feel like this is ridiculously short but I also feel like Tartaglia would have known a LONG time ago if the two of you had the feels for each other)

"Oh man...Probably the most reckless man I know,"

Also knows. Instantly. But shuts his mouth just so he can listen to you talk about him, but it gets deep real quick.

"In my opinion he's a handsome guy. Real charming," you smirk the tiniest bit. "but I don't know if I can keep up with him, honestly. It's a little hard not knowing when he's going to come back...or if he's even gunna come back at all,"

You weren't going to hide the fact that you were scared shitless he didn't return from Fontaine for ages. You legitimately thought he had died.

Tartaglia stops you there, by suddenly cradling your cheek. "Y/N," he's wearing a pained expression. "I'm sorry,"

"Don't be, it's your job, right?" You reassure him, and shrug.

He sighs "Yes, but I'll promise this to you as I've promised my family," he smiles, the most confident smile you've seen on him. Even more confident than when he wields his blades. "I'll come back to you, I always will,"

Wriothesley

"Er... How do I say this... He kind of has some... big boss energy?"

"Oh?" he sips at his tea, glancing at you while he looks at today's paper. "So he's a bigshot?" he asks curiously.

"Somewhat, yes. Intimidating at first look, but...he just has a great sense of responsibility," you pick at the selection of cakes and cookies he has.

"Huh," he lets out in a quick huff. In the deepest, DEEPEST parts of his mind there is a NANOSECOND that he thinks its him but it gets erased so quickly he's not even sure that he had thought about it.

"Sounds like a good person... Any interesting, weird quirks?" he grins as he says this, yet again glancing at your expression.

Your lips tremble a bit at what you're about to say, because you're SURE he was going to get it once you say it. You gulp and feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand before you say out loud "He likes tea. I kind of wonder if it's an addiction," you can't meet his eyes.

He's looking at the paper he's reading but nothing.registers.in.his.brain.its.like.it.stopped.working.

You shift in the uncomfortable silence but he calmly folds up the newspaper and places it on his table. "...I'm inclined to ask, because it would be embarrassing if I got the wrong idea,"

"Mmhmm," you pop a cookie in your mouth to distract yourself.

"By any chance, are you...talking about me?"

"Mm," you nod your head, still not looking at him and glue your eyes on the cookies instead, out of embarrassment.

Suddenly chuckles. You brave a peek at him, now covering his eyes with a single hand, head tipped back to rest on his chair.

You're not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

"Sorry, no, it's just... I didn't think it would happen this way." Visibly takes in a big breath and sighs it out slowly. Seems to have regained his composure and is back to his confident self, smiling at you. "Thanks Y/N, I... don't think it's much of a secret that I enjoy your company too. I'm just a little embarrassed that you beat me to it...some big boss energy huh?"

Xiao

"...He takes on everything by himself. I worry about him," You look at the stars as you say this. Xiao doesn't say anything.

"But I'm glad that he's opening up a lot more now. It's great to see him among friends,"

Xiao has a feeling at this point, that its him you're talking about, but he still doesn't say anything and keeps his gaze in front of him rather than on you.

"Yes, the road in front of him is long but...he's also already come a long way," you sigh a little "The time of Rex Lapis has long gone, but he still sticks to his principles. I think his dedication is part of what I like about him,"

This is when he turns to you, blank look on his face, contemplating on what to do. When you turn to meet his gaze, its then that he decides to bridge the gap between the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning in sideways to catch your lips in a chaste and rather shy kiss.

"You should give a bit of credit to yourself, for putting up with me all these years, Y/N,"

End!

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Here’s the Masterlist

[jjkamochoso]

Nobody Got You the Way I Do

Angst, Fluff

Soshiro Hoshina x gn!reader

No matter what problems you run into, big or small, you and Soshiro are always there for each other :)

Inspired by the Kaiju No. 8 outro song “Nobody” by One Republic

Warnings: light cussing, violence, mentions of blood, dead bodies, and people getting eaten by a kaiju

It's a bit of a long one so buckle up and enjoy! <3

[I'd take the fall/I got you covered when there's no one at all]

“There’s one more report that someone failed to turn in last night. Does anyone here have an explanation? Officer L/n?”

Your heart sank in your chest as you desperately tried to keep the internal freak out you were having from showing externally. You had forgotten to finish the last report of the night—well actually, morning, since it was 5 am when you finally left the office. You had written 10 other reports in a record time yesterday, somehow being on the recieving end of the Operations team’s grunt work even though you were a seasoned officer. You wanted to grip Captain Ashiro by the shoulders and force her to get a good look at your sleep deprived face so she understood that your forgotten report was a complete accident, brought on not by carelessness but by exhaustion, and then you would gladly grovel and beg for forgiveness so you wouldn’t get written up for your mistake. Before you could even move a muscle, though, Soshiro spoke up in your defense.

“My apologies, Captain, I had Officer L/n occupied as they helped me recount the details needed for my own reports. By the time we were finished, it was daybreak and I released them from their duties. You’ll have their report by noon today.”

Captain Ashiro gave a curt nod of acknowledgment before moving on to the next topic. When her back was turned toward you, you mouthed a thank you to Soshiro, who, in turn, shot you a wide smile.

[Oh, yeah, and I'd stay through the night/When you got demons tryna break through the walls]

You yawned, putting your feet in the slippers by your bed as you got up in search for a late night snack. You were having trouble sleeping and you figured a little walk and some food might help you relax. You padded through the quiet, dim hallways of the Defense Force base, your muscle memory taking you straight to the dining area without giving it a second thought. To your surprise, there was somebody already in there. You recognized the figure as your close friend Soshiro, but his body language was unlike anything you’d seen from him before. He had his arms outstretched in front of him, his fingers gripping the sides of the communal kitchen sink like it was a buoy in the open ocean. His chin was hanging low against his chest and you tried to make your footsteps a little louder so you didn’t sneak up behind him and accidentally scare him while he was in such a fragile state. You debated just leaving him be and heading back to your room so as not to bother him, but it seemed like he really needed someone there for him and you’d be damned if you let a friend suffer for no reason.

“Soshiro? Are you… is everything alright in there?”

You called out as softly as you could, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed up at your voice and your heart broke a little. The seemingly unshakable man you admired was seriously hurting and you were determined to help him get through whatever it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

He flashed you a grin and a thumbs up to prove he was alright but his shaky breaths and dark circles under his eyes were telling a whole different story. Both of you knew you weren’t going to fall for such a blatant lie—you were much too observant and knew him well enough to know something was wrong. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep trying to push you away, though.

“Are you sure? No offense, but you don’t look it.”

“Really, y/n, I’m okay. Go back to bed, every good soldier needs their rest.”

No matter how long he kept up this act of nonchalance, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. Whether he wanted to fess up an explanation for his distress or not was his choice, but you were content to just give him company for a little while so he wasn’t alone.

“I think an impromptu hangout session would do us both some good right now since neither of us can sleep. My room’s a mess so we’ll have to go to yours if that’s cool.”

Soshiro’s eyebrows raised in a playful manner. “You want to go to my room after hours? If anyone sees us… they might get the wrong idea. People talk, you know.”

“So?” you questioned, grabbing a bag of chips from the cabinet. “Let them. I just want to talk with a friend and if that bothers someone, I couldn’t care less.”

He was too exhausted to argue so he let you lead the way out of the common area. When you made it back to Soshiro’s room, you both sat on his bed and munched on the food you brought. You kept the conversation lighthearted for a while before diving into the whole reason why you were there with him as the moon shone outside his window.

“So, do you wanna talk about earlier?”

“I do, but… it’s silly. Juvenile.”

“Who’s to say? I certainly won’t judge you,” you told him.

A few seconds passed, silence washing over you.

“I had a nightmare. Another one. They’ve been nonstop all night.”

That explained his jumpy demeanor and tired gaze.

“I’m sorry that’s happening to you. You deserve a time where you can escape all the shitty things you deal with in real life. It’s not fair you’re haunted at night, too.”

Soshiro was quiet as he nibbled on a chip, lost in thought.

“It’s the same one over and over again,” he continued after a bit, “the nightmare. I train, I fight, I lose, people die. It’s an endless cycle of my failure.”

You leaned in a little closer, sitting up on one arm while you rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’re hard on yourself for no reason and that stress is probably what causes the bad dreams. You’ve been a wise vice captain and a fierce fighter, taking down every kaiju you’ve come in contact with. I know you can’t will the nightmares away but just know that they couldn’t be further from the truth. The division puts its trust in you for a reason.”

Soshiro met your eyes as you sent a small smile his way.

“I put my trust in you for a reason, too, as you trust in me,” you explained. “There’s no one else I’d rather have by my side during hard times and I hope I can be that person for you as well.”

You gave his shoulder a final squeeze and moved your hand back to the soft comforter. His hand was ready to dash out and find purchase on your own, as a sign of comfort or something deeper he wasn’t sure, but he hesitated. The call of your bare skin wasn’t his to answer; he didn’t deserve your softness. He didn’t deserve this kindness and selflessness you were showing him as you listened to his foolish woes without judgement. What made him special enough to think he ever had a chance at seeing your enchanting figure at this hour every night for the rest of his life? If you weren’t in the room, he would’ve scoffed out loud. He was delusional. He was overly tired and emotionally drained, that’s all. There was no way he’d find himself as head over heels for you in the morning. You two were just close friends, that’s all. That was enough for him, wasn’t it? Why did he feel the burning desire for something more?

[There ain't no, no kinda line/That I wouldn't cross if you need me to/You're out here searchin' for signs/So I think it's finally time that you knew]

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, you know.”

“That’s kinda hardcore considering we’re talking about a bottle of water.”

“Way to ruin the moment, L/n.”

Soshiro handed you your drink and you gulped it down gratefully. Actually, now that you’d given it more thought, you hadn’t even asked him for the bottle in the first place. Rather, you had made an off handed comment that morning during breakfast about wanting to be more hydrated throughout the day and Soshiro must’ve taken on the responsibility of making that happen.

“While I very much appreciate this gesture, aren’t you supposed to be in training?”

“I wanted to see you instead,” he said, a playful glint in his eye. “Besides, we can’t have our best operations officer wither away from dehydration. I’d be too lonely without you.”

He jutted out his bottom lip, making you laugh as you went back to work.

“Whatcha working on?” he inquired, spinning around in a chair.

“Strategic planning and city evacuation plans.”

“How thrilling.”

“S’not so bad,” you murmured, deep in thought. “And actually I’m glad you’re here because you’re the perfect man for this question.”

“You could’ve stopped at ‘perfect man’ and I would’ve suggested to the brass you needed a raise,” Soshiro teased, instantaneously on his feet to peruse the papers you had sprawled on the table.

“You could’ve omitted everything in that sentence except for the part about the raise,” you shot back, Soshiro sticking his tongue out at you. When you got to talking about work, it was like a flip of a switch with Soshiro. He immediately turned from joking to serious, listening intently to your question and helping you find the most logical solution. As he pored over the map in front of him, you noticed he was standing close to you so you took the time to observe the finer details about your friend. His violet hair was hanging loosely and framing his face perfectly. His toned arms were on full display from where the short sleeves of his tight training shirt ended. Speaking of tight shirt, it was ridiculous the way his broad, muscled back was having you almost gasp for air. However, it certainly wasn’t only his physical appearance that left you breathless. It was the way he made plates for you at meals when you were running late. It was the way he encouraged you to try your best during physical training, even if you were nowhere near having the prowess of soldiers on the front lines. It was the way he sought you out at any given moment. It was the way he was always there for you no matter what. You groaned inwardly. Your life would be so much less complicated if you didn’t realize you had caught major feelings for your close friend. Relationships were strongly discouraged in this line of work due to the danger you were constantly in and the lack of a promised future for any members of the Defense Force, but there was a nagging voice in the back of your mind saying that it was how you felt in the present that mattered, not what the future may or may not bring. Still, no matter if you thought about Soshiro romantically or platonically, there was one undeniable truth he needed to hear from you.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, either.”

Tearing his gaze from the map, Soshiro turned to you, mouth opened in surprise at your admission before quickly closing it again, his eyes softening as his heart swelled in his chest. You said the words with such conviction that it made him want to marry you on the spot.

“Vice captain!”

The wheezing voice of Kafka Hibino rang through the room, breaking the eye contact between you and Soshiro.

“Y-you’re needed… at the training grounds… right away.”

Kafka looked like he was a second away from passing out with the way he was clutching his chest and gasping for air. You quickly came to his aid by dumping the contents of your bottle into his mouth as he drank it greedily. Spilled water dribbled down his chin as he thanked you profusely, looking at you like you hung all the stars in the sky.

“Hibino!” Soshiro’s eyes were narrowed more than usual as he addressed his soldier. “Go refill Officer L/n’s bottle. If you take longer than 20 seconds, you don’t get any more water breaks for the rest of today’s training.”

“Yes sir!”

Kafka ran with the speed of a cheetah and you swatted at Soshiro’s arm lightly.

“The poor guy was on his deathbed, cut him some slack. I could’ve refilled the bottle myself.”

“I know.” His lips curled up slyly. “But it’s fun to mess with him and I like taking care of you.”

You wanted to explore that sentiment a LOT further but your moment with Soshiro was over as Kafka burst through the door again, your water bottle filled to the brim. You thanked him and the men were on their way out, Soshiro sending you a wave that you gladly returned.

“You’re always happy but you look more smiley than usual, sir. Was it because of y/n?”

Uh oh. Did I say that out loud? thought Kafka.

“15 laps around the building for being nosy and 100 push ups for referring to a superior improperly.”

“But-”

“20 laps and 150 push ups. Or does 25 laps and 200 push ups sound better?”

“N-no, Vice Captain! I’m sorry!”

Kafka took off at full speed, not wanting to incur any more punishment as Soshiro just shook his head, laughing to himself.

[Nobody got you the way I do/Whatever demons you're fightin' through/When you need somebody to turn to/Nobody got you the way I do]

You were having a really, terribly, horribly shitty day at work. Nothing was going right: all of your coworkers were in a bad mood, the computer system kept crashing and losing your saved data. You were beyond ready to clock out as soon as time allowed, but you were ordered to stay behind and go through computer files to double check none of the information had been compromised. You didn't know what divine figure you must've upset because there could be no other explanation as to why you were always being punished like this. Competency was truly a curse, and since you were the best at your job, along with everyone else's, you continuously got the task of making sure the Operations team didn't fall apart. It was an honor to be seen as responsible and irreplaceable in the eyes of the higher ups, sure, but not at the expense of your mental health. By the time you were finished, it was another late night at the office for you, but at least it was over. You gathered your things and trudged toward your room, eager to lay down and give your tired eyes a break. You rounded another corner of the building but stopped in your tracks when the light of the training room practically blinded you from down the hall.

"Waste of electricity," you grumbled to yourself, walking over to turn off the light. To your surprise, you heard footfalls and grunts from inside. Who would be up training this late? Your question was answered as you observed Soshiro fly around the room, swinging his practice swords with precise movements.

"Y/n!" he greeted when he spotted you in the doorway, ceasing his training, "I missed you at mealtime. Don't tell me you found another table to sit at."

He wore a fake frown that was replaced by his signature smile in an instant, his canines peeking out of his mouth.

"I'm glad you came away unscathed today. I heard it was brutal in the office."

"Brutal is definitely one word for it," you said, sitting on a weight bench. "I want to cry for hours on end but I think my body's too tired to let go of the tears."

Soshiro set his swords down and took up the spot next to you, his leg brushing against your own.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You would've loved nothing more, but you didn't want to bother him with nonsensical babbling about how sucky your day was. His work was vital and you refused to be the one preventing him from continuing it.

"I appreciate the offer," you said, standing up and already missing the feeling of his leg on yours, "but I should let you get back to training. Ranting about my work annoyances aren't crucial to humanity's survival like your training is, so I'll see you later."

You turned away, ready to walk to your room, when the vice captain hurriedly took hold of your hand to stop you from leaving.

"Wait," he said, his tone affectionate yet pleading, "let me be there for you like you were, and always are, there for me. I want you to know you can turn to me at times like these. I won't push you away."

You stared at each other in silence before he spoke once more.

"Please don't go."

Your dam of tears burst.

You didn't know who pulled who in first, but it was of no importance--the only thing that mattered was that Soshiro was offering you a safe space to let go of the misery you'd been holding in for much too long. Your tears were easily escaping down your cheeks, soaking the back of Soshiro's shirt.

"It's okay, I'm here, I'm here," he soothed. The feeling of safety and security in his arms was something you hadn't felt in a long time and was almost too much for you to bear, making you cry even harder. As more tears fell, you felt his grip on you tighten and you returned the favor, hanging onto him like he was your lifeline. His nimble fingers slowly worked their way up and down your back, sliding around in a comforting manner. His familiar scent wafted up your nostrils, doing wonders to calm you down after your outburst.

"Shh, you're alright," he cooed, his voice as warm and gentle as a summer breeze. "Today was a bad day but they don't last forever. Tomorrow will be better, I promise. You'll get though it. And if you can't get through it on your own, then we'll get through it together, okay?"

You sniffled and nodded your head, making Soshiro relieved that his comforting skills weren't as bad as he thought they might've been. You didn't know how long you stayed with your arms wrapped around each other but you wished it could be forever. You finally pulled away from Soshiro's embrace when you felt like you were about to fall asleep on his shoulder.

You let out an awkward laugh as you wiped away a stray tear. "Soshiro, I... I'm sorry you had to see that. But thank you."

He was completely unbothered, it seemed, as he brought you in for one last hug. The temptation to press a chaste kiss to the top of your head was strong, but his will was stronger, opting to leave you with some final words from his heart instead.

"Don't worry about it, y/n, you know I always got your back. Nobody's got you the way I do."

[When you go dark and the night gets so cold/I'll be on my way to you/You know I ain't tryna lose you, oh, no/If you're in Hell, I'll go there too/There ain't no, no kinda line/That I wouldn't cross if you need me to/You're out here searchin' for signs/So I think it's finally time that you knew…]

"Vice Captain! The kaiju is exhibiting strange behavior! It's headed for the train stati-"

The communications line went dead.

"Operations, do you copy?"

No answer.

"This is Hoshina. Is anyone there?"

Static crackled in Soshiro's ear and he growled in frustration, fighting the urge to rip out the useless earpiece and trample it. Did they say the train station? This kaiju was being a real piece of work. Their kind is usually predictable and easy to understand, but this one just had to be unique, didn't it? Soshiro sighed, running to catch up to other members of the Third Division to regroup and strategize.

"Nakanoshima! Do we have eyes on the kaiju?"

"Yes, sir!" the pink haired woman said, "it's like Ops said, headed toward the train station. They're trying to evacuate right now."

"Right. Thanks."

This was NOT good. A kaiju, especially the honju they were dealing with, could kill a lot of people in a short amount of time and the stations was always jam packed at in the evening. Since comms were down, Soshiro figured cell service was too, but it didn't hurt to check. He pulled out his phone and glanced at the screen. Nothing. However, he had one unread message from earlier that must've come through before the signal cut out.

Y/n: That meeting was sooo boringgg :((( but my train got here earlier than expected so I'll get to the station around 5:15! When I'm back on base I'll treat you to dinner... at the dining hall lol

He felt the air leave his lungs when he spied the current time: 5:20.

Soshiro was desperately trying to do the math in his head to see if you were still at the station. The kaiju attack started 10 minutes ago, you've would've been here 5 minutes after that, but if they just began evacuations from the trains...

He hauled himself on top of the nearest building, desperately looking into the distance for an answer to quell his worries. There wasn't a train stopped in the middle of the tracks anywhere so that meant the train you were on made it to the station and was probably the one that people were currently pouring out of in a mad dash to escape from the monster headed their way. Soshiro cursed under his breath as he jumped back to the ground, now surrounded by his soldiers.

"Vice Captain! We figured out the kaiju seems to be attracted to huge groups of people, more so than usual! That's why it's going to the station!"

"Good work, Reno," replied Soshiro, his face hardening as he addressed everyone. "You guys heard him. We work together as a group, got it? Nobody goes off on their own. We have to get this thing interested in us instead of civilians."

The Third Division set off in a hurry, making their way toward the rampaging Kaiju.

Well, this was new.

As you heard the announcement about a kaiju barreling toward the train station you'd just arrived to, you thought about how you'd somehow managed to never see one up close-- until today, most likely. The screams of the passengers around you got louder as you all heard the kaiju's steps hit the ground in a frenzied state, emboldened by the prospect of a large meal, and you found yourself getting jostled in a sea of bodies as people desperately tried to escape the train and underground station. You decided to hang back for a moment, not wanting to risk getting trampled. You looked out the train window, trying to stay calm.

"Kaiju ahead! Prepare to engage!"

Soshiro, for once in his life, was nervous to fight a kaiju. When he found you, he'd have to scold you for making him worry like this.

Yes, that was a when, not an if. He will be finding you, alive. He couldn't lose you. Not today, not ever.

"Vice Captain! Yoju are headed this way!"

Soshiro followed where Kafka's finger was pointed. The little kaiju were running toward the Third Division while the honju was still dead set on terrorizing the train station.

At least some of them took the bait.

"You guys take care of the yoju. The honju is mine," snarled Soshiro, running as fast as he could.

When the train eventually cleared enough for you to make a run for it, your chance to escape the station was getting slimmer by the second. The honju's steps were making the ground shake and you could barely stay upright. You and a few other passengers were the only ones left below the surface and were now following the emergency signage, hoping the kaiju wasn't overhead. You were feeling better about the distance you had put between you and the kaiju when all of a sudden, the roof of the train station began to rumble. You knew immediately that it was about to collapse so you yelled out a warning and ran as fast as your legs could go, heading above ground. Sure enough, as soon as you got up the stairs, the pavement next to you caved in and left a huge gaping hole in the middle of the street. Along with the other passengers you made your escape with, you put your hands on your knees, panting and trying to catch your breath. You were lucky you didn't get caught up in wreckage because it was a certain death sentence, much like the kaiju licking its lips in front of you. You wanted to scream in frustration as you realized you had run right into the trap it set. Somehow the kaiju had known hordes of people would run from the station and right into the area it was using as a plate. You had to give this thing credit for its intelligence as you were at a loss of what to do next. Most of the people you had boarded the train with were dead, save for the lucky few who evacuated the station right away. You knew this because of the numerous bodies and bones strewn about around you. The only thing left of the people you ran up here with was their blood soaking the street as the kaiju dined on their corpses. You were resigned to the fact that you were about to die and you just hoped it was quick. In a blink of an eye, you were picked up in its claw, the smell of blood overtaking your senses and making you want to puke. The kaiju growled at you in a mocking manner as you were raised to its lips, its razor sharp teeth about to bite down on your head.

"No you don't, you greedy piece of shit."

Soshiro's voice rang out, echoing in the bloodied remains of the street. The kaiju roared, upset at the intrusion of his meal. The big beast threw you down in a tantrum, intending to end your life on the pavement, but a flash of purple and two seconds later, you found yourself safely on the ground with minimal injuries.

"Soshiro," you breathed out, "how did you..."

"I thought I told you," he stated firmly, but with his ever present boyish grin, "I always got you."

He then addressed the kaiju directly. "Looks like you had enough dinner, hmm?" He pulled out his swords, the light reflecting off the sharp edges as he made a glorious display of his specialty weapons. "What do you say to me giving everyone a show?"

Soshiro was in the air in an instant, engaging in the ferocious clash between beast and blade. You could only watch with awe as Soshiro's lithe movements easily evaded the clunky kaiju. At certain points, it almost seemed like he was toying with the large monster to prove the point that he was superior and you would've felt bad for the kaiju if you hadn't just watched it devour humans a few minutes ago. Soshiro then brought the battle to a close, laying the final blows, and the defeated kaiju fell to the ground.

"Are you alright?" he asked, giving you a once over as he extended a hand to help you up.

"I'm perfectly fine thanks to you. Seriously, Soshiro, you saved my life. I don't know how to thank you."

"Thank me? No need for that, it's my job to keep people safe." His voice dropped low, indicating he was about to tell you something serious. "But I knew I couldn't lose you. You mean much more to me than you could ever know. Y/n, I..." He didn't finish his sentence, afraid of telling you how he truly felt for you. It wasn't that he was afraid of rejection so much as he was afraid of the emotional vulnerability that came with telling someone you loved them. Thankfully for him, you understood perfectly what he was trying to get at.

"You always got me?" you suggested, wearing a cheeky smile.

"Yeah," he said, a mix of determination and pure love present in his features as he looked upon you. "I always got you."

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Scars

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: mention of smut but nothing too vivid, Tav history but nothing horrible, kinda funny in some ways, really enjoyed writing this one and if you don't like it - I hate to tell you but you are wrong (I don't make the rules here sorry (I def do make the rules)), I'm so sleep deprived lord help me

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

You laid across from Astarion, enjoying each other's company as the early morning rays of golden sunshine cascaded into the tent. It was the first night you had slept together of Astarion’s own volition. After defeating Cazador, he decided to try living again and he wanted to indulge in every way possible, including indulging in you. It was sweet, gentle, thoughtful lovemaking. Ensuring you were both comfortable and consenting was at the forefront of both your minds. You laid on your combined bedrolls nude, your lower halves covered by a thin blanket. Astarion traced over your face deftly, his fingers subconsciously tracing over the scars that crossed your eye, cheek, and lips. 

“How did you get these?” he asked suddenly.

Your eyes opened completely, waking from their sleepy haze to find his.

“Forgive me, that was rude… you don’t have to tell me.” he said, shaking his head. 

You smiled at him, kissing him briefly. “I’m just as old as you, I have quite a few scars if you’d like to hear the many tales.” you smirked.

He let out a relieved sigh, worried he had offended you somehow. He nodded at your question, finding the raised blemishes to be quite beautiful against your skin. 

“These,” you said gently moving his fingers across your eye and cheek, “are from a devil. My very short stint fighting in the Blood War gave me these.” 

“And this,” you said tracing over your lips, “from a dog. Bit me when I was 7.”

You moved his hand to trace over the large scar that spanned across your neck, “A near death fight with a Bhaal spawn. Nearly took my head off, thankfully I had quite the healer with me.”

Astarion grimaced at this scar. He couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. Being bitten by Cazador had felt like a shard of icy glass being plunged into his neck. Having your throat sliced open by someone as vicious as a Bhaal spawn, he could imagine the immense fear seeing all the blood seeping from you, your life slipping away slowly. He thanked any gods who were listening for the healer who saved you long ago.

“How old were you?” he whispered.

“For my neck?” you asked, “I was 80, my first time in Baldur’s Gate actually. Quite the welcome.” you chuckled. 

You carried on with your little tour of your body. “This one,” you said, tracing a very faint scar of three little dots on the top of your chest, “I gave to myself. Turns out forks are quite dangerous if you trip with them in your hand.” 

Astarion scoffed, a breathy laugh coming out after. As gifted of a fighter as you are, you are also the most accident prone individual he has ever met. 

“Lets see…” you continued moving his fingers to your upper ribs where a deep, jagged scar lay, “A worshiper of Loviatar “blessed” me with that one.”

“Blessed you?” he said, quirking an eyebrow with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

“Let's just say Loviatar worshipers enjoy all manner of things in the bedroom.” you blushed. “It was truly a blessing though, the knife they so graciously stabbed me with was infused with magic. Makes me harder to kill since I “embraced” Loviatar.” 

Astarion smiled at that one. He had noticed how slashing didn’t seem to have much effect on you in battle, now he knows why.

“This one,” you said, moving his hand to a scar that spanned from your belly button to your hip, “Particularly brutal - a Lolth sworn drow and a drider came after me while I was knocked down. Turns out spider legs are sharp as fuck. And the venom? Lord, I have yet to feel a sting quite like that again.” 

Astarion frowned, he always despised spiders. Now he has even more reason to dislike them.

“This,” you moved his hand to your upper right thigh, “Another self-inflicted accident. Swam in the Black Lake, which is forbidden and for good reason too. Giant eels leave quite the electric burn.” 

“Why were you in a forbidden lake?” he asked, thumbing over the patchy scar.

“Why not?” you winked at him with a smirk.

Gods he loved your rebellious spirit, quite matched his own. Trouble seemed to find you both all too easily and yet, you always managed to make fun out of it. 

“This,” you said as you dramatically slapped his hand to your ass cheek. He felt for a moment before feeling a raised “X” shape. “An arrow of Ilmater from a particularly pissed off dwarf.”

“And, pray tell, why was he pissed off?” he said with a smirk of his own. 

“I may or may not have been trying to steal a particular magical necklace.” you grinned.

Astarion hooked his finger under the golden chain around your neck that always had a slight ethereal glow to it. “I’m assuming you managed to steal said necklace?” he said before tugging on it to pull you into a kiss. 

You giggled when you pulled away as his lips followed yours, you pecked them again before continuing. “Yes. Well worth it though, it prevents me from being poisoned. It’s come in handy more than once.” 

You moved his hand to your knee but not before he gave your ass a final squeeze. You squealed as you leaned into him. He would never get tired of your toothy grin, it was like sunshine to him, he loved to bask in it. 

“This one,” you said as you moved his hand to feel over two parallel scars, “from a mermaid. She tried to drown me so I kicked her off, but not before her scales dug into me.” 

“Why was she trying to drown you?” he asked.

You gave him a sarcastic look, “Have you ever met a mermaid? They don’t need a reason, they do it for sport.” 

Astarion nodded, making a mental note to not venture too far into mermaid infested waters. 

“Kept the scales though! Worth a fortune since they make elixir of water breath.” you said jovially, finding the positive in said situation.

“Elixir of what?” Astarion asked, searching his mind for this unknown elixir. 

“Water breath; you can breathe underwater for quite some time once you drink it. Rather rare though, getting scales off a mermaid is a pretty deadly task.” you shrugged.

“Any more?” Astarion said, his eyes running over all the scars that littered your body. So many stories, so many emotions. 

“Just two…” you said as you raised your foot up so his hand could feel over the top of it. A “Z” shaped scar. “This one is from a Zhentarim, hence the “Z” shape. Got caught trying to break into one of their hideouts. Left me with a lovely little scar to remind me not to try again.” 

Astarion traced the shape, you jerked away at the ticklish feeling. 

“Finally,” you said moving his hand between your legs right where the plush of your thigh meets your groin, “this one is from the best lover I have ever had.” 

Astarion felt for a moment but couldn’t feel anything. He looked up at you confused, “There's no scar here?” he said, waiting for you to guide him to the proper spot.  

“Not yet. I suggest you get to it, fangs.” you smirked at him. 

Astarion gave you a wicked smile when your words clicked in his head, “I’d be honored to add to the collection…” he said as he trailed himself down your body, leaving feverish pecks and little nips as he descended before licking over your thigh and sinking his fangs in. 

You arched your back while you carded your fingers through his white curls. You never wanted to leave this bed, this tent, or him. And luckily, you didn’t have to, not now. Not ever. He would alway be yours, and you his.

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

Naboo's Note:

Hello! :D I am so fucking tired but also very awake right now working this overnight. I fucking love this piece so I hope you all do too! Fun fact, the fork scar is an actual scar I have because I am, in fact, a clumsy bitch lol. This felt very fluffy to me and just generally made me feel better so I hope it was comforting to ya'll as well. Talk soon, thanks for everything!!!!!!!! TTYLXOXOXOXOXO!!!!!!!!!

[quitealotofsodapop]

Saw the notes... got inspired by the silly! MK would absolutely be confused over the baby stone monkeys but also really think the little clones are cute. He uses the explanation Wukong had given him about the babies being clones of an old friend he'd kept preserved until they eventually morphed into a pair of actual baby monkeys to the Noodle Gang. Tang is of course, extremely excited to meet Savage and Rumble because these are basically Sun Wukong's kids and the mystery of who the baby clones original self was gets added to the cork boars alongside Wukong's baby daddy!

Macaque, jealous and feeling betrayed: WHO DID YOU HAVE A CHILD WITH!?

Wukong: You, idiot.

Ha yes! Was rambling in the notes here about the Penumbra au (with some SlowBoiled sprinkled in).

MK rambles about the babies to the rest of the gang (and theorizing thats why Monkey King needed a successor), and the while gang are "aww"-ing at the thought.

The adults have concerns.

Pigsy: "Wait, how old are they? What is he feeding them?" MK, thinking: "Uhhh super tiny-old? Monkey King said the shadows he preserved turned into newborn babies some weeks ago. He keeps them in his shirt so I don't know how he feeds them." Pigsy, concern growing: "He's probably on that island without proper food for himself..." Sandy, also concerned: "And there's a lot of good vitamins one can't get from just fruit and transformed hair. He'll need some ginger tea." Pigsy, already in the kitchen: "And some soup! Tangy! We need some fish heads!" Tang, nerding out: "Are we forgetting the huge fact that these are newborn Spiritual Monkeys!? We're talking like baby unicorns here! This is a major discovery!" Pigsy, handing him a list: "Just get me these ingredients and I'll forgive your tab!" Tang, diligently grabs list and shopping bags: "Okie dokie!" MK: "Eh? Why tea and soup?" Mei: "Odds are the Monkey King is the babies' only source of food." MK: "They're eating him?!" Mei: "Bruh. Boobs." -_- MK, embarrassed: "AH. My bad." >_<

So yeah Sun Wukong quickly gets the adults knocking on his door with big pots of soup and tea for him to take. He's touched by the gesture, but a little startled by how fast the gang were to appear on his doorstep.

So of course MK has to deal with wanting to become stronger faster (can't do certain training when the twins are in the way), and runs into Macaque.

MK takes one look at the black fur, red face marking, and shadowy powers, and thinks "omg! he might be the shadow babies' other dad/clone-original!!" - but holds the knowledge to himself for the moment.

Eventually MK gets a text from Mei during his additonal training, and she sends him an adorable photo of the twins. Macaque overhears.

Macaque, very serious: "Who are they?" MK: "Oh! It's just my friend Mei!" Macaque: "No. I mean the baby monkeys." MK: "Oh haha. Well... the big reason Monkey King can't train me as hard as he can is cus he's got... them." Macaque, grabs phone and glares at the photo: "WITH WHOM?!" MK: "Whoa! You're uh... kinda upset." Macaque: "Of course I'm upset! My former ma- friend had cubs without me!" MK, thinking Mac cannot be that dense: "Wut." Macaque: "What's their names?!" MK: "Zàoyīn and Bàoliè." Macaque: "He named them Rumble and Savage?!"

This of course leads to a confrontation where Macaque has drained MK's powers and is now knocking on Wukong's door demanding to know who fathered his twins.

Wukong: (*opens door with the twins tucked into a skin-to-skin top. Looks a bit sleep-deprived.*) Macaque: (*angry frown*) MK: (*waves nervously cus Macaque dragged him over*) Wukong: "Wondered when you'd get here." Macaque: "Let me see them." Wukong: "Say please. You're not setting a good example." Macaque, forces self to calm down: "Ok. Please let me see them." Wukong: "Thats better." (*Wukong loosens his shirt, letting the twins' heads to poke out. The twins stretch awake as Wukong kisses their heads. A pair of six-ears flutter like that of a kitten as one yawns loudly.*) Macaque: (*quiet. eyes glistening*) Wukong: "Plums, are you crying?" Macaque, trying to hide tears: "Who- who did you have them with!?" Wukong & MK: "Wut." "Seriously!?" Macaque: "They're too beautiful to be mine!" Wukong, sighing: "You literally left behind two shadow clones before you left the island. Shadows that I... had trouble letting go of. And I might have broken some rules of magic to keep them around." Macaque: "You... donated your dao to preserve them??" Wukong: "Yeah. I didn't want to like... lose all of you just yet. But about a few weeks ago they sort of collapsed into themselves and popped out like this." Macaque, doing math and suddenly blushes: "OH." MK: "What oh?" Macaque: "Shadow clones aren't like hair clones. They aren't extensions of the original's body, but rather their soul. When Wukong donated his dao to my shadows - we accidentally, uh... inmaculada." MK: "Omg I was right! You are their dad!" Macaque: "Ok yeah. Uh, here's your power back by the way." MK: "Wut." Macaque: "I had this whole revenge plan in the works but uh, knowing that these little guys are here, I just can't." Wukong: "Aww. Is that the only reason?" (*flutters eyelashes*) Macaque, still blushed: "And I uh... kinda am really touched that you couldn't let go of my shadows after all this time." Wukong, smugly smiling: "Knew it." Rumble & Savage: (*fully awake, now grabbing Macaque's face and chirping excitedly!*)

Macaque quickly turns from "edgy shadow version of Monkey King" to "super-adoring dad" once he meets the twins properly.

Rumble and Savage love having their Papa back.

[inkyycapp]

| rayman, ramon & raymesis x reader.

| relationship hcs.

personal song of choice: in my room, by insane clown posse.

i've seen so many rayman edits to this song, it now has him written alll over it. fuuuuuuckkkkkkk. do i write smut? (probably). just take this for now.

| tw:: foul language, raymesis/j, my own hcs, self indulgence, (heavy?)angst, they're all struggling, this is not proof read.

[ a/n:: we need more rayman. i'm still new to writing fanfics(aside my horrid watpad {i forgot how to spell it} phase.) forgive my errors and i hopefully plan to write more of him. he haunts my nightmares(lovingly). i'm ill rn, and wrote most of this in a sleep deprived craze for more rayman. first time writing these characters-- forgive me. ]

(soh/game)rayman.

i feel like he'd be the type to randomly pinch you especially when he feels like he's being ignored, or when you're 'busy'.

he always does it when you least expect it. sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone/reading a book? pinch. getting something to drink? pinch. stargazing? pinch.

loves the little reactions he gets from you. giggles over it. i bet he kicks his feet too.

definitely the type to swipe food from your plate when you're not looking, then gaslight you about it.

you're missing a potato wedge? nuh-uh. you're crazy. how dare you assume that your handsome, loving, amazing boyfriend would ever steal from you. the betrayal...(he did it.)

i like to think he enjoys hand kisses. random thought, but i dunno. i think he'd like to kiss your palms as a source of reassurance, and of course receiving the same affection back would probably give him a heart attack. in a good way of course.

or when you're a bit stressed in public and hold onto the back of his hoodie. like slightly holding onto the fabric where it's almost unnoticeable. probably the cutest thing you could ever do in his eyes. (that or giving him a lil kiss.)

silly things aside, he stuggles a lot. his failures that haunt him day in and out, he's scared to know how long it takes before he fails you too.

simple mistakes can lead to him getting stressed or overwhelmed as he doesn't leave any room for his 'failures', even with something so simple as accidentally knocking something over, breaking stuff, etc... he truly believes that you are one mistake away from leaving him.

he tries to be forgiving of all things with consideration of course, but often times it backfires. he has a naïve view that everyone can, and will change. he wants to believe that they will change for the better, even if the person chooses not to change, or to change for the worse. he blames himself when things go south because of that, he wants to give someone a second chance, but sometimes do they really deserve it? he tells himself he should know better by now, and it was all nothing but wishful thinking. very forgiving for others, but the rules don't apply to himself.

be patient with him, and reassure him whenever you get the chance. he really needs it.

his sleep schedule is the most horrendous schedule you will have ever seen. it's teetering between a full on coma, or staying awake for days on end. he loves taking naps, but sometimes he just can't-- he has work to do. remind him breaks are necessary. force him to sleep when he needs it. for his naps(comas), i don't know. cry? if there's one thing that'll wake him up is the sound of you in distress.

rayman is a sucker for pet names. he will be a puddle of goo in you're hands.

you're in another room, and he's just lounging about. the next moment you're calling for him, needing his help with something? he's right there. like right behind you.

lives for simplicity. babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, hun/hon. consider whatever you need done. he's so whipped for you.

he's also pretty good with pda. again, the pinching. public, private, it doesn't matter. that cute little pout on you're face is something he'd kill for.

personally, i prefer the earlier games personality traits as opposed to (i believe)origins. i do enjoy the childish behavior, however i do believe his immaturity does have a limit. (living for soh!rayman.)

definitely the type to crack the funniest jokes at the worst times imaginable. it's his secret talent.

that, and hitting you with a one liner when you're both faced with a terrible situation. except that one liner is just so good-- you have to at least give him credit for that.

huge soft spot for sentimental gifts. always putting them somehwere safe, and when enough time passes, he likes to go over each and every one. reminiscing about all the little things.

raymesis.

[middle child energy.]

'a hot tempered psycho who's looking to destroy rayman's reputation'. not my words-- it's the wiki's.

with canonical anger issues under his belt(?), he's a bit more brash than the other two. when realizing he may like you, he may turn against you in almost violent ways. but, he hesistates everytime. always missing by a hair.

it takes him a while before he'd able to ever consider that maybe being vulnerable is okay-- just this once.

suprisingly a tad bit cautious of 'being nicer' to you, but he's trying his best.

raymesis is a thing-a-majig with a serious identity crisis.

i like to think that the some of the 4-5 vers. of the evil clones of rayman are just him having multiple 'phases'. it's fun to think of.

on a more serious note: he often feels like he's nothing but a lesser-- a shadow of the heroic rayman. maybe he looks up to him in a way, and finds jealousy in how he can just...keep going. how he's able to be so open, and forgive other so easily despite their past transgressions. he finds it unfair: why is it so difficult for him, but so easy for rayman. he's a clone of him, sure an evil clone, but a clone nonetheless. that's where the deep, dark spiral comes in.

linking to that he struggles to be nice, vulnerable, or open with you. he's supposed to be an evil clone of some heroic figure, and yet he's falling over himself because of you. in his own way, he gets extremely upset-- it pisses him off. he tries to be mean to you, but he can't bring himself to do so. he's supposed to be a 'bad person', but hurting you makes him seem like more of a monster than a villain.

this will all take time for him to process, the best thing you can do is be patient, listen to him rant, and just try and be there for him.

you have definitely mellowed him out, just a bit. he's still an asshole to rayman/j.

they're more like bickering siblings who never get along.

do not expect 'family(?)' dinners to go well.

i feel like mr.dark and the nymphs have serious beef with eachother. wwe smack downs every 'family(?)' dinner. always bet on the nymphs.

wouldn't it be cute for the nymphs to treat raymesis like their son too? just adopting him one day without him knowing? scolding him for lighting that one house down the street on fire?

raymesis doesn't like christmas trees.

there seems to be a reoccurring joke in the descriptions that claim raymesis is 'ugly' despite the fact he's a near clone of rayman. this always leaves him in a puddle of confusion with his confidence always shot. please tell him he's pretty once in a while-- he won't accept the compliment, but he'll think about it for days.

he's not used to praise, and can't take compliments. poor buddy.

he definitely bites. a lot.

of course he's a little more careful with you, he still bites now and again. i feel like he's an agressive lover. wanting to squeeze the life out of things he finds 'cute' without ever admitting it.

he has a purple tongue. that's kinda cool. i like to think he probably has a tongue piercing too? i feel like he's the type.

definitely plenty of pent up feelings that he has a hard time expressing.

but pda? oh yeah. lives for it. his hands always has to be on you in one way or another. get's all agitated, and sulks when you pull you're hand away from his to pick something up, or to rummage through your bag. how dare you-- you owe a huge apology.

pet names; babe/baby, sweetheart, creature, mine, stupid/idiot(lovingly). he's very silly with these.

he has a hard time believing you'd ever choose him compared to the hero, rayman. with time maybe he'll learn you love him, and choose him because he's your first choice.

(superiority complex.)

he may not be the best person, but he's at least willing to learn to be better in his own way.

ramon.

can we all agree on the amount of trust issues this man has right about now? good.

after the betrayal with eden whether you've been in his life for years or not, he finds it hard to put everything out in front. it'll take him some time to rebuild trust after what eden did. and no, him needing to rebuild the trust has nothing to do with you! (i mean that in a good way.) you did nothing wrong(unless you did) in his eyes but, he used to believe eden was his everything. and with that, eden took everything. he worries that with time they'll take you too.

give him reassurance, quality time, the whole mile. remind him you're not going anywhere.

while cuddling in bed(couch, etc) probably the type to refuse to let you go to the bathroom because he doesn't want to let you go.

honestly, very romantic.

he loves fruit, and chocolate covered fruit too.

will buy you some, but steals a few pieces when you're not looking. he's sneaky like that.

also known that he likes sushi, but i feel like he probably has beef with the conveyer belt things. probably a bad experience, or he's mad at it for no reason.

i think he likes habatchi. it's very entertaining.

he's the type to tell the most outrageous stories out of the blue. he's the absolute king of 'i used to know a friend'.

probably kept up with everyone's drama as the news host. stays awake at night thinking about it sometimes.

y'know when someone tells you a joke and you don't get it at first? this is him figuring out what they meant at like 2:30 am.

another terrible sleep schedule. like absolutely horrendous.

he probably has nightmares about his time as a news host. thinking of the lies he used to spread. how much each one impacted someone elses life.

wakes up in a cold sweat. ends up focusing on you're calm breathing, and tries to match it. eventually falls asleep, not before firmly pulling you close to him. even when you wake up, you'll never escape his grasp.

on an alternative route, if you did wake up, he's extremely apologetic. tries to usher you back to sleep. now you're both awake munching on some food watching some shitty trash tv, criticizing why she choose james over percy.

he's not keen on pda. he worries for you're life. it's already a risk for you to be with him-- what if eden sees?

pet names too, but more casual with them behind closed doors. definitely married-couple-core. sweetheart, brat when he's being a pain, or play fighting. hon/hun, baby when he's literally attached to you're hip.

has frequent chronic migraine. enjoys just burying his face into you're stomache and just laying there while you're doing whatever your doing. like a cat.

enjoys the comfortable silence between you two, but small conversation is just as nice.

has guns. you broke a lamp. doesn't let you touch no more./j

he actually prefers you have a gun on your person at all times, even in the comfort of home. you'll never know what could happen when you can't protect yourself.

| the end.

[a/n: sorry it's a little short, but this is my first time writing for these three. addiction is strong, don't do rayman kids.]

[katerina-marie]

The Uncertainty of Domesticity

Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 of 3

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t afraid of much, though he definitely felt so when he became a widower in the same moment he became a father. Years later, he felt it again when you came along with the same hopes and dreams for a future he never thought he would experience again.

Content: JJK universe but no canon events / strangers & neighbors to lovers / medium burn idk / female reader and referred to as such but left descriptively vague / no y/n / out of character and soft Toji / single-father Toji / NSFW - vaginal sex so please avoid accordingly - but I can't write smut to save my life so it's not very explicit / Megumi-Mama/Mamaguro dies in childbirth and its mentioned once or twice / cutie pie child Megumi / fluff / slice of life / light angst from Toji's inner turmoil / discussions about having children / pregnancy and childbirth for reader in part 3 (pending) / more notes below

WC: 7.9k

Notes: Slow burn? *Shakes head* I don't know her. I find in my fics that I like to write from a farther out, outside looking in perspective, or in a more snapshot-esque view. Pacing is hard for me in terms of how to write authentic relationship progress, so forgive me if it comes across a little too fast. Though, that is somewhat intentional with this story. I like the idea of Toji and reader going all in cause life can be short and cruel and who's to say that you can't?

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

Toji wasn’t entirely sure about the Itadori family. 

Yuji was fine enough, if not a bit empty-headed, but his two older brothers caused his eyebrows to raise every time he saw them. The one with pink hair had a temper that rivaled his own and was somehow covered in various black tattoos despite the fact he was still a young teenager. The other one didn’t seem any better to Toji, with dark circles around his eyes as if he was in a constant state of sleep deprivation, and he too had some odd black mark across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. The father was something else as well, but they were kind and accommodating to his son, and it didn’t escape him that they lacked a mother too. All in all, Megumi needed friends, and apparently he picked the odd ones, so Toji would tolerate their peculiarities for the purpose they served. Namely, acting as spare babysitters when the occasion called for it. 

But of course, the one time he really needed them, the whole Itadori household had come down with the stomach bug. Since Toji had already done his time with such an illness with Megumi before, he wasn’t so inclined to do it again. Thus, he was sufficiently out of babysitters. Usually if the Itadoris weren’t available, Toji would bribe one of the more trustworthy older students from the school to watch Megumi in exchange for cash and pizza, mostly for nights involving a failed date or something less noble that never felt worth it the next morning. However, in an unfortunate turn of events for such a pleasant Saturday, it was his job and students that were requiring his attention. The principal had rung him twenty minutes earlier to demand his presence in helping with a situation no doubt caused by a particularly troublesome twosome, and Toji wasn’t keen on his last resort of bringing Megumi with him. 

That left you. Toji wasn’t sure why he was so nervous about the idea. You had offered again since the first time just last month to watch Megumi for him, but he hadn’t yet found a reason to do so. He wasn’t going on any dates, at least not since you moved across the street, and if Megumi was over spending time with you, Toji had a feeling he’d be itching to do the same. 

However, time was ticking, and the longer he stood at the window that afforded him the best view of your house and snuck another glance through his blinds, the more likely he was to forgo the idea entirely. Thankfully, Toji could feel the weight of Megumi’s eyes on his back and since it felt very much like his son was thinking of him as something close to moronic, he yanked his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number before he could stop himself. 

“Hello, neighbor,” was your standard choice of greeting for him, but the way it flowed off your tongue and lit upwards at the end always had Toji trying to calculate in his head how many times he could reasonably call you in a week before he could be seen as desperate. 

“I have a favor to ask,” he said tightly, and he turned from the window to pace along the back of the sofa that Megumi was currently sitting on. “Can you come over and watch Megumi for a couple hours? Work is being a pain in my ass and I’m needed there, but Yuji’s family is sick, so I don’t really have anyone else to watch him.” 

You didn’t miss a beat before squealing your reply into his ear. “Of course! Give me five minutes and I’ll be right there.” Toji, the grouch that he was, couldn’t deny that your enthusiasm for the prospect of spending time with his kid made him feel soft and warm in a way that he usually found unappealing for himself. 

“Thank you,” he said back, and he could hear you bustling about on the other end of the phone, “the front door will be unlocked, so just let yourself in.” 

After a quick, “sure thing,” you ended the call, and Toji let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding on to. He looked down at Megumi, and from the grin on his face, Toji could tell he knew exactly what was going to happen. 

“You better behave, you hear me?” His son nodded so quickly—enthusiastically—that Toji was shocked his head did bounce right off. “You know your schedule for the rest of the evening, so don’t try to weasel anything extra out of it, else I’ll find out.” 

Toji walked back to the window to glance through the blinds again. “And don’t tell her anything weird about me either.” 

Megumi made a confused noise. “Like how you look for her out the window all the time?” 

Toji dropped the blinds so quickly one would think they turned animate and bit him, then spun around to stand up straight. “I don’t do that,” he said gruffly, but Megumi wasn’t paying him any attention, clearly unimpressed by his father’s patheticness, and was instead focused on the book in his lap. Instead of trying to argue with a kid who wasn’t yet six, Toji dashed off to the bathroom to double check its state of cleanliness. He had just finished up when he heard a faint knock at the front door and then your voice greeting Megumi a second later. 

Upon coming out and seeing you standing behind the couch while Megumi pointed at something in his book, Toji suddenly wished he didn’t have to leave at all. You were clad in a blue lounge set that looked as soft as he imagined you felt, and under your arm was a bag stuffed with puzzles, movies, and Megumi’s favorite bag of chips. The smile you gave him when he walked up to you didn’t help his motivation either. 

“Hi,” you chirped, and Toji didn’t miss your swift head-to-toe onceover of his work clothes that you didn’t even try to hide this time around. 

“Hey,” he answered back, and god, he’d be lying if he said that looking down at you while you gazed up at him through darkened lashes wasn’t his one of favorite things as of late. “Thank you again for doing this. I owe you one.” 

In the first instance of touch since he had hugged you a couple weeks back after losing Megumi at your house, you placed your hand on his upper arm and squeezed just a little. “It’s no trouble. I promise.” 

As the two of you shoved him out the door, clearly catching on to his reluctance to leave, you gave him a cheery promise to keep him updated on everything he’d miss, and as the day wore on, seeing your name on his screen followed by a photo evidence was an extra pump of adrenaline to his system. 

You and Megumi sitting outside with ice cream cones that dripped down your fingers. 

Megumi’s look of elation when he finally fit the last piece of a puzzle together. 

A sheet pan of chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven with the assurance that you wouldn’t let Megumi eat more than two (an hour). 

You perched on the side of Megumi’s bed with a book in hand while he was snuggled under the blankets as a yawn took over his face. 

Each and every one ended up being saved to his phone, and Toji didn’t have any explanation as to why other than because he had wanted to. 

By the time he was finished and leaving the school, the sky was black and the air was quiet. The time on his watch told him that Megumi had been in bed for close to three hours now, and Toji wondered what you had been doing in the time since then. 

How would you look curled up on his couch with a book? Did you fall asleep to some movie that you had put on the TV? Would he be wrong to imagine that you would glance at the door occasionally and wish that he would walk through it at that moment? 

Thoughts of you kept him occupied on his drive home, and once there, he hurried to park the car and bound up the couple steps to his front door. When Toji finally pushed through it, you were sitting in the corner of his couch, TV on and a plate scattered with cookie crumbs in your lap. You craned your neck back to look at him, and the slow smile that stretched across your cheeks had him aching for the nights long passed when there had always been someone to welcome him home.

“How’d things go?” You turned the TV off and shifted in your spot to place your hands on the back of the sofa and then rested your chin on top of them to watch him expectantly  

“It was…fine,” Toji managed, and it occurred to him that there was a whole other world he kept hidden from you. At some point, should you indicate that you wanted something more from him, he would have to divulge that pertinent information to you. However, that was getting ahead of himself, and he racked his brain to come up with an explanation that would satisfy your curiosity, but wasn’t so detailed that he couldn’t explain it away if necessary. “Our school was hosting an event with another a couple hours away and, naturally, our resident trouble-makers did something they shouldn’t.”

“Sounds fun,” you remarked sarcastically.

Toji huffed a quiet laugh and considered moving from his place in front of his door to sit next to you but only managed one step before you were making a move to get up. 

Another missed opportunity.

“I, uh, really appreciate having you watch Megumi for me today. It seems like the two of you had a good time. But I’m sorry this is how you had to spend your Saturday night.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind at all,” you told him as you stood and bent down to grab your bag off the floor. “Megumi is a great kid, and I love children.”

The adoring look on your face combined with the wistful way your words came out had something twisting uncomfortably in Toji’s stomach. He clenched his hand around his car keys until they dug into his skin painfully. “You do?” 

“Mhm,” you hummed, coming around the couch to stop in front of him. “I don’t get to spend much time with them—I only have a few friends that have one or two, and I never had the patience to be a teacher.” You poked a gentle finger into the meat of his shoulder in a way that was teasing, but for once he couldn’t bring himself to react.

Neither do I. 

“So you want your own one day?” 

Your expression shuttered and went uncharacteristically blank, and Toji suddenly wished he could turn back time. His words must have come out strained, or maybe disapproving. He didn’t intend for them to sound like so, but something about them set your jaw tight and had your eyes drooping in what looked a lot like disappointment. 

In a brief flash of self-pity, Toji found himself missing his wife. He missed having someone that would be patient with him in his foul moods and curt way of speaking. Someone who guided him through the tangled web of his emotions and helped him coax out something gentle and palatable instead. Toji wished he was better at whatever this was just so he had a chance at keeping you near him. 

“I do,” you finally replied, but the words were hushed and dismissive in their finality. Toji couldn’t think of anything else to do but nod, lest he open his mouth again and dig himself deeper into something irreparable. He turned his attention over your shoulder and down the hall to where Megumi lay sleeping so he didn’t have to keep subjecting himself to how you were now looking at him like you wished he was something else. 

“Well,” you started, and Toji hated how your voice was clipped and forcibly light. You stepped around him to reach for the front door. “It’s late, and I want to make sure we all get some rest. I’ll see you two later, yeah?”

You were already mostly out the door by the time Toji was able to call out a goodbye and you disappeared with a quick flash of your fingers. Resignation lingered in the air after you left and it made Toji feel like he had done something very wrong. 

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

If you thought about it hard enough, you really had no one else to blame but yourself for the maelstrom of your emotions. 

It was almost frightening how quickly disappointment had tempered the giddiness that crackled under your skin that evening in Toji’s house. He looked like he had seen a ghost when you mentioned your love of children. His question had come out sounding like he had swallowed rocks, gargled and strained and like it took every ounce of his effort to get the words off his tongue. When you had confirmed it for him—that you wanted children one day—his nostrils flared wide and the entirety of him tensed so visceral that it looked painful. You had kindly seen yourself out at that point as you were certain his body had unknowingly entered a state somewhere in between flight or fight, and you didn’t wish to aggravate it further. 

If his reaction to a question that didn’t have anything to do with him at all on the surface—maybe the underlying tension was a cause for that—then you didn’t know why it felt like the floor had fallen out from under your feet, or why your stomach had dropped so heavily it actually pained you. But that was a lie, and you knew that somewhere in the last six months you had grown inexplicably attached to Toji Fushiguro and his six year old son. It wasn’t quite that you had already picked out names for children that had your hair and his eyes, but the possibility of something more with him had felt so close to fruition, almost tangible in your grasp, that having the hope of it dashed so suddenly was crushing in its own right. You would not bend in your desires for your life, at least not one so significant as that, but neither would you expect Toji to give himself to something that he didn’t want, not when it would require all of him. 

So, as you had read about but never quite experienced, maybe there wasn’t anything quite as painful as “almost.” When you had returned home that evening, your first stop had been your shower as it was the most proper place to wail about opportunities missed and allowed for the dramatics towards a situation not yet fully understood because it all could be washed away with the swirl of a drain. And, in your most infinite wisdom, the only way to recover from such a figurative loss was to choose the mature path and avoid the thing that caused the pain in the hopes that detachment would prevent any further attachment. 

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

The longer Toji stared at his phone with his thumb hovering over the button that would dial your name, the more imbecilic he felt. 

He had been skirting around you for the same amount of time you had been acting weird (three weeks and two days, but he wasn’t keeping count), but when Megumi looked up at him this morning with a pouty lip and imploring eyes, begging him to invite the pretty and kind neighbor over for his birthday this weekend, Toji knew he was going to be have to be the one to wave the metaphorical white flag.

For what exactly? He had no idea. But clearly, his son had gotten just as attached to you as Toji was, and he couldn’t blame Megumi at all for it. Not when you always stopped to listen when he spoke, remembered the name of his favorite stuffed animals, and asked about his best friend Yuji. Even more so now that Megumi had figured out you kept a stash of his favorite snacks in your pantry for whenever he found himself over there, a frequency that had been increasing until lately. 

 Toji hadn’t really minded having to go over to your house and fetch his kid, not when he could wager with himself (the only form of gambling he permitted nowadays) on what you’d be wearing when he walked through the doors. Sometimes it was the well-tailored fabric of your work clothes, and other times it was some combination of skin skimming pants and shirt that was somehow just as appealing as the little dress that swung around your hips with every step. You had knocked the wind out of him with that one a while back.

Yet, all of that was negated by the fact that you had started to distance yourself ever since that night you babysat Megumi. After stewing over the stilted conversation for the rest of the night after you left, Toji chalked it up to nothing more than an awkward misunderstanding. Though on the following Monday, when you had come home early from work while he and Megumi had been playing outside, you offered nothing more than a brief wave and a smile that seemed less enthusiastic than normal before shutting yourself inside for the evening. Megumi had looked as dejected as Toji felt and to their frustration, the rest of your interactions followed suit. 

To make things increasingly worse, on Tuesday evening just last week, Toji happened by the opened window in his living room and saw a car a whole tax bracket nicer than his sidle up to your driveway. You had gotten out, smartly dressed, and a tall man equally well clothed had stepped out of the driver’s side. The two of you chatted animatedly the whole walk to your house, but Toji had turned away before he could witness whatever was about to happen on your doorstep.

The memory had him angrily mashing his thumb into the dial button and bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hey,” you answered on the fourth ring. Your voice was still light and chipper, but lacked the warmth and enthusiasm you usually held for him. 

“Got time to talk?” Nerves had Toji reaching straight to the point. “Megumi’s with Yuji for the next little bit.” 

A beat or two passed before you answered, but it was long enough that Toji squirmed in his seat on the couch. “Sure. I’ll come over there?” 

Toji gave you the same instructions as last time: to let yourself in. Two minutes later the knob of his front door was twisting, and he was up in a flash. You greeted him with a half-hearted grin as you stepped over the doorway, and he held his arm out to direct you to the couch. 

“You’ve been avoiding us,” he said bluntly as he closed the front door behind you.

You winced, shame making your cheeks warm. You took a seat and Toji plopped down next to you on the couch just as you got settled in, and the weight of him dipped the cushion enough that you slid a little closer to him. You righted yourself before speaking. “Ah. You noticed?” 

Toji looked thoroughly unimpressed and none too pleased, and in the silence you swallowed thickly. His living room suddenly became the most interesting thing. The TV stand against the front wall only held the large flat screen and nothing else. The window to the left of the room looked out over the street. In front of the sofa was a pale wooden coffee table with a half-done puzzle. In the corner to the right of the TV, there was a shelf layered with some knick knacks, a couple of Megumi’s books, and if you squinted hard enough, you could just make out a small framed photo of Toji and a woman with dark hair.

“I felt like I had hit a nerve unknowingly that night, and I didn’t want to linger around and make you uncomfortable,” you finally admitted when the quiet became too much. Toji had been watching you with those unnerving eyes of his and he let out a stream of breath as he leaned back against the sofa. He laid his arm across the back of it and when his fingers landed just a hair's breadth from your shoulders, you would have sworn they twitched outwards to try and graze your shirt. 

“Maybe a little,” Toji said, scratching at the back of his head with his other hand,“but you didn’t know, and that’s not on you.” His eyebrows furrowed and it seemed like he was concentrating on something, maybe remembering something you had said. “Aren’t you scared?” 

It was your turn to give him a quizzical brow, and while you weren’t sure where exactly he was going with the question, you had no doubt about what he was asking. “About having children?” 

Toji nodded and you let out a little noise of understanding. He watched as you tilted your head to one side, peered up at his ceiling and chewed at the corner of your lip as you collected your thoughts. You drew your feet up onto the sofa, facing him, and pulled your knees to your chest to relax further into the corner, and Toji had to fight the urge to nudge you into speaking. Your toes wiggled from where they sat just a half foot away from his leg. 

“Maybe a little,” you considered, and Toji’s face slackened. “I’m sure you know that having them is a huge change and an enormous responsibility, but it’s worth it, no? In the same vein, I’d be scared of not having them even though I want to just because I’m nervous. I think having to live with such significant regret would be just as terrifying—at least for me. But that’s part of life, isn’t it? Doing the things that scare us because we want the chance of happiness that they could bring?” 

He studied you, seemingly perplexed by your decision and his inability to understand it, but you didn’t squirm under his gaze and you willed yourself to remain quiet in the hopes that he would respond. His fingers behind you thrummed against the sofa, and his eyes darted once to the picture frame on the shelf.

“My wife died giving birth to Megumi, or right after technically.” Toji saw from the corner of his eye how your face fell, but you didn’t open your mouth to offer your condolences, so the rest of the story—his tragic past (minus the parts about the things that went bump in the night. That was for another time)—spilled out without a hope from him to stop it. By the time he was done, Toji’s nails were clawed into the fabric covering his knees, and at some point you had shimmied across the sofa closer to him so you could rest a reassuring hand on his arm. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, voice delicate and just above a whisper. The emotional aspect of it all made it feel like his skin was crawling, but Toji worked past the sensation. “I hope I didn’t come across as insensitive earlier. All those words only apply to me and how I feel. Your choices for your future, no matter what they are, are plenty valid.” You ducked your head down to meet his eyes better, and when his met yours, the sorrow in them made your chest ache.

“I owe you another apology,” you added sheepishly, and when Toji opened his mouth to disagree, you moved the hand from his arm to hold it up to him in hopes he’d hear you out. “I acted poorly. Childishly.” 

You suddenly looked everywhere but at him, and your voice was hesitant when you spoke again. “I was being presumptuous in thinking that my decision to have children one day would matter to you. I got ahead of myself.” The whole thing felt very reminiscent of grade school “love” confessions and secret meetings. Hot embarrassment made your palms sweat and you itched to flee to the shelter of your home. 

Next to you, Toji made a wounded little noise in the back of his throat, and his spine stiffened when understanding hit him and he realized that—no matter how far-fetched it seemed at the moment—you had considered him in a glimpse of your future. The image of it, something that he hadn’t seen for himself since the day his wife died, appeared in his mind and nearly stole his breath away. 

Megumi. A wife—you this time. Children. Happiness and peace. The same terror that it could all be ripped away and he would be left alone again. 

If he had you, Toji knew he wouldn’t be able to deny you anything, but there would be no solace for him those entire nine months, and even after, should he find himself in the same shoes again. Tentative excitement and abject fear would war inside of him from the moment the two of you would commit to the idea, and if he was lucky, maybe it would abate in some reasonable amount of time after you delivered his child and lived long enough to enjoy it with him. 

Toji knew the odds of such a tragedy occurring again was low, but likelihoods and probabilities mattered little when he already knew their worst case outcome. 

“But that’s part of life, isn’t it? Doing the things that scare us because we want the chance of happiness that they could bring?”

“Presumptuousness is okay sometimes,” Toji murmured, and though your expression was hopeful, you shook your head once.

“Maybe,” you conceded, and he could tell you weren’t entirely convinced. He could see as doubt trickled into your features and turned down the corner of your lips. “The topic of children isn’t something to be left undecided or uncertain.” Your lips stayed apart and moved slightly even though nothing came out.

“I like you,” you breathed out once you seemed to regain yourself, and hearing the words out loud was a balm to Toji’s ears. “But I’m not willing to sacrifice my own happiness, not for something like this. And that’s okay. It’s also okay if you don’t want them, but that means this,” you gestured between him and yourself, “doesn’t go any father and that there’s someone else out there for each of us.” 

The memory of the man walking you to your door left a horribly bitter taste in his mouth, but Toji knew it wasn’t jealousy or possessiveness that drove his desire for you. The craving for domestic bliss, to have a person that loved him and his son had him yearning to pull you close, but the anticipation of something sinister lurking and waiting to snatch it away made him falter. 

“It’s not that I don’t want them,” Toji said, and he made sure to hold your eyes with his. “I’m scared of what happens if history repeats itself.” 

When he turned his head again to the shelf in the corner, the conversation and his reactions from that night seemed to make more sense. And now, when Toji stared at you in a way that was a little helpless and a little entreating, you were powerless to do anything but give into the thrill that hopefulness brought forth. 

“Well, your fear isn’t unfounded,” you told him gently, and he nodded in agreement, “though I’d like to think that this would be worth it.” You let your hand drop onto his and used your nails to scratch gently on the back of it. Tension bled out from his shoulders and Toji shifted forward just so he could be close enough to share the same air as you. 

Perhaps the emotional turmoil of a tragedy passed wouldn’t cease to exist overnight, but if hopeful optimism could be found in the eyes of a person who set one’s heart alight, then maybe the two of you would be just fine. 

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

Time seemed to move slowly and all at once from that afternoon, and each interaction afterwards brought forth an emotion well known but newly rediscovered in light of emerald eyes and a scar in the corner of smirking lips.

Humor when Toji had wandered off to the kitchen after your talk to get a glass of water and surreptitiously inquired about the man in a suit at your door last week. There was a clatter of dishes when you made a casual off-hand remark about the quality of the view from his window, and when he returned to you without a glass in hand, looking like he was trying very hard to appear nonchalant, you couldn’t help but giggle at his expense. You had to explain that the man in a suit was just your boss dropping you off after a conference and that he came to the door to receive the gift you had for him and his wife to celebrate the arrival of their new baby. Toji had looked a little embarrassed by the end of your explanation.

Disappointment when you found out Megumi’s birthday coincided with a non-negotiable event at work and you’d have to miss it. You weren’t sure whose face was harder to look at when they each turned their pouting lips and begging eyes on you. However, when you had knocked on the door late in the evening on Megumi’s birthday, a little breathless and carrying a balloon and gourmet cupcake, the little boy had thrown himself at your legs in a fit of giddy laughter. Toji looked at you with a swirl of emotion on his face, something heady and warm, appreciative and awe-struck, a little bit adoring at the frazzled aura surrounding you. 

Abject disbelief a month later when Toji told you about things that went bump in the night and about a school that was a lot more than it seemed. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around the concept, but Toji answered any question you had, even if apprehension made him want to grab onto you and never let you go. Somehow, for some reason, you accepted it well enough with the promise that you didn’t talk about it unless absolutely necessary. Toji assured you, with a grin that was confident and proud, that he was there to ensure nothing ever happened to you. 

Love-sick even though it might have been too soon when Toji wrapped a large hand around your wrist after you said your goodbyes to him underneath the golden glow of his porch light. Megumi was already in bed, tired from a day spent out playing in fresh February snow, and when Toji tipped your head back to kiss you, the size of him became so apparent up close that it had butterflies erupting in your stomach. His hand could span your cheek while his fingers threaded into your hair. He bowed over you when his other hand pressed into your back to arch you into him, then his arm followed to encircle your waist in a grip that was ironclad. Toji chased after you when you pulled away to take in a gulp of air, and you knew right then that refusing him was never something you’d be very good at. 

When the days were still cold and Megumi could only tolerate being outside so long before the tip of his nose froze pink, most of your time together was spent cuddled on one of your couches as an endless list of movies played on the TV. Sometimes Toji would be situated in the middle with Megumi splayed across his lap and you tucked under his arm, a blanket thrown across all of you. Other times, your feet would lay on Toji’s thighs while Megumi sat back against your chest. On nights Toji would fall asleep mid-movie and his snores would be too loud to continue, you and Megumi would find yourselves in the kitchen waiting for hot chocolate to bubble on the stove while you listened to him chatter animatedly about whatever happened at school the previous day. When the hot chocolate finally cooled enough to sip on without scalding your tongues, Toji would shuffle his way into the kitchen. Megumi would be perched atop the island, legs kicking happily, and you would be leaning up against. Toji’s eyes would still be bleary with sleep, but you’d offer him your mug and he’d drop a kiss to your hair and let his hand grip at your waist. 

When the weather began to warm enough in the late spring, many an evening the three of you would sit on a blanket in the grass of a nearby park. Megumi would throw a ball or fly a kite, and you would recline in between Toji’s bent legs with a book in hand. On more than one occasion he’d stop you as you began to turn a page, and you realized that he’d been reading along from where his chin was perched on your shoulder. 

“You read too quickly,” Toji huffed, and he lifted his hand so he could flick back the page with his thumb. You angled your head back to glance at him and he used the opportunity to place a kiss on your temple. 

“I wasn’t aware you were following along.” 

“Yeah, well, I wanted to see what about it kept hogging all your attention.” Toji’s fingers danced up and down your rib cage and you shrunk back into his chest to try and flee from the tickling sensation. “Turns out it’s just some sappy romance,” he complained. 

When you recovered from laughter that pained your sides, you settled upright and brushed the hair from your face. “I’ll have you know it should get quite interesting in the next couple chapters.” You kept your voice innocently flirtatious, but Toji caught the insinuation nonetheless, and you could feel the deep hum in his chest against your back. 

As it turned out, sex was hard to come by when there was a six year old running around the house, careers to be worked for the both of you, and limited time for just the two of you. There had been nothing more for the two of you than stolen kisses around a hallway corner when Megumi was eating lunch in Toji’s kitchen and lingering looks promising something more when given the chance.

Toji must have finally had enough just a couple weeks later when he had called to inform you on a Friday afternoon that Megumi would be gone at Yuji’s for a couple of hours. You were just leaving work and had promised to be over in the shortest time you could manage, but it still felt like an eternity by the time you had stopped by your house to freshen up and change before knocking on his door. Not a second passed before he was wrenching it open and tugging you inside with a grin that was downright wicked. 

As soon as the door to his bedroom slammed shut, Toji peeled your shirt off while kissing down your neck as you fumbled with the button of his jeans. You snuck your fingers up under his shirt to run them over the muscles of his lower abdomen, and when he shivered in response you felt pride well up under your skin, but that faded quickly when Toji cupped you under your thighs to lift you and spread them around his hips. When he turned and fell back against the bed, you laughed as you caught yourself on his chest, and the smile that stretched his cheeks and the brightness of his eyes had him looking boyish, and the sight of him below you had you tearing the rest of your clothes away in a hurry. 

Toji was impressive in every aspect of himself as you would now know, but you didn’t have the opportunity to dwell on the matter when his hands were on your breasts and his lips sucked a mark just below your collarbone. He made space for himself between your legs and kissed you softly when the size of him knocked your breath away. He remained patiently still until you rolled your hips up against his and tore a moan from both your throats, and he didn’t let you know a moment’s peace until his name rang from your mouth at least three times. 

The sun was almost set when Toji’s phone pinged with a text from Yuji’s dad that they were on their way to drop Megumi off. He groaned in exhaustion from where his head rested on your stomach, and you could tell he was reluctant to pull away from how your fingers scratched at his head. With no time to waste, you managed to claw yourself out from under him to slip back into your clothes even though you had to bat away his wandering hands every other minute. Toji was quite proud of himself when he managed to steal away another couple minutes of kissing you senseless. Luckily, he had just finished pulling on his shirt as the two of you made it to the living room as the doorbell rang. 

You watched with an amused smile as Megumi staggered inside with his backpack falling off one shoulder. The poor kid was clearly worn out from a day playing out in the sun, so much so that he could only give you a half-hearted wave as Toji directed him towards his room to get ready for bed. 

When Toji came back from tucking in Megumi, you didn’t get up to gather your things and say your goodbyes. Instead, Toji leaned over the back of the couch to kiss you and whisper something in your ear that had you flushing hot from head to toe, and you didn’t resist when he led you back to his bedroom so that the two of you could indulge in one another all over again, albeit much quieter that time around. 

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

You woke the next morning with a quick inhalation of air through your nose, your body still attuned to the internal clock of the work week. Even though it was Saturday and the sky had just begun to blush pink, your mind urged you out of restfulness. You stretched the languidness from your muscles and took note of all the places where soreness twinged, and in favor of chasing the last remnants of blissful sleep, you rolled from your side onto your stomach and buried your face into the plushness of the pillow below. 

A puff of pine scented shampoo wafted into your nose and you blinked the rest of the room into awareness. You were not in your bed; you weren’t even in your own home, and the unfamiliar sounds around you came into focus. A fan thrummed faintly, a breeze rushed past the windows and drowned out any early noise from the street, and Toji snored softly to your right. His charcoal colored sheets were tangled up under his arms, and you recalled having to fight him for them in the middle of the night when you woke up shivering only to find out that he had a penchant for hogging the blankets. Toji hadn’t even budged at your attempts to yank them out from under him, and you eventually gave up in favor of snuggling in as close to him as you could. Thankfully, your skin sliding against his roused him enough to lift an arm for you to tuck yourself under, and you sighed at the warmth of him, your insides going soft when he curled his arm around your back so his hand could engulf your hip. You fell back asleep almost immediately after. 

At some point in the night you had drifted away from him, and now, as you were able to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest and noticed how his fingers twitched occasionally, you knew that every night you’d spend in your own bed alone would feel empty and unfulfilling. While staying overnight hadn’t been unplanned—Toji had insisted—what happened in the morning hadn’t been discussed, and you became acutely aware of the fact that there was a little boy sleeping a couple rooms down who would, most likely, be waking with the rising sun, and you had no clue as to how his father wanted to proceed.  

You sat up slowly, keeping the sheet clutched over your chest, and you scanned the floor of Toji’s bedroom to locate all articles of your clothing that you had shed the previous night. You had no intention of sneaking out, not when that alone would be detrimental to the newly cemented relationship, but you would feel more prepared for the conversation upcoming if it wasn’t done in the nude. With a swing of your legs, you made a move to push yourself off the bed, but a rustle of sheets behind you, followed by the feel of Toji’s hand skimming up your arm made you pause. 

“You leaving?” His voice was still roughened with sleep, and when you looked back over your shoulder at him, he was using his other hand to rub at his eyes. 

“No,” you said simply, “not yet. Just getting dressed.” 

Toji’s fingers tightened around the top of your arm and he tugged gently. You didn’t hesitate to follow and fall back into him. He curled you into his chest and you shivered in delight when the fingers of the arm you rested your head on found their way into your hair while his left hand reached across his body to squeeze at your waist. A pleasant sigh lifted and lowered Toji’s chest when you skimmed your fingers across it, and you had the briefest curiosity for finding out if he was as eager for you this morning as he had been last night. When he suddenly rolled on top of you and you parted your legs to make room for him, the answer became evident, because yes, he certainly was. Toji’s nose found itself in your neck as lips nuzzled into your skin, and the deep inhale he took of you made you ache. All of him was distracting, enticing in every way, and the feel of the muscles in his back shifting under your fingertips nearly had you forgetting any rational thought aside from having him again. But when the yellowing sunlight began to filter in through the window as his hands pushed up your thighs, mindfulness took the place of lust and you cleared your throat pointedly. 

“I hate to interrupt,” you whispered, and Toji paused in his pursuit of being inside of you, “but it’s almost daylight, and Megumi…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say—how to broach such a subject—and Toji made a low noise of disappointment in your ear before letting go of your legs. He lifted his head to look at you, and wiggled out from under him to sit up. You brought your knees to your chest and fiddled with the sheet around your ankles while Toji fell onto his back with a huff next to your side. The pout on his lips amused you. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were ready for him to see me with you this early in the morning, especially in yesterday’s clothes.” Toji sighed and lifted his hands to rest them under his head, and you could tell indecision warred in his mind. “I’m not against slipping out and going back home. I’d understand,” you offered to him. 

“That feels kinda wrong though,” he said, and the inside of his cheek caved as he bit down on it. He removed one hand from behind his head to trail his fingers down your spine and you shrugged lightly. 

“It’s alright. We can talk with him later.” Toji finally nodded and blew a breath of air out of the corner of his mouth before sitting up to press a kiss to your lips. His eyes were bright when you pulled away. 

“Want to come back after a while and take the kid to breakfast?” he asked. A grin took over your face and you bit down on your lip as you nodded. 

“That sounds like a good idea. I’ll head back and you can let me know once he’s up.” You narrowed your eyes at Toji in feigned annoyance. “I need a little bit to clean up , anyway.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself and not at all ashamed, and you squeaked out a noise of surprise when he launched himself at you. 

An hour and a half later found you back at the Fushiguro residence, freshly showered and dressed for a morning out. You didn’t bother knocking, and you had just opened your mouth to announce your presence when you heard bickering from down the hall. 

“It doesn’t matter what shade of blue your shirt is, Megs.” Exasperation was barely hidden in Toji’s voice. “Just put this one on so we can go.” 

“It does too,” Megumi argued, and you could clearly imagine the way Toji and his son mirrored each other's stances, arms crossed and lips twisted in a scowl as they stood adamant against the other. You giggled to yourself as you made your way down the hallway. 

“Put this one on, Megumi. I gave you a choice, but now I’m choosing. This one matches your pants just fine.” 

“Nuh uh. I don’t like it.” 

Toji sputtered. “But you told me to grab them!” 

You popped your head into Megumi’s room and rapped your knuckles against the door to get their attention. “Trouble getting ready?” 

Megumi spun to face you, and Toji turned to you with a heavy sigh of relief. Stress twitched a muscle in his cheek, and you took notice of the repeated clenching of his fist. Nothing else about his appearance though could betray his anger or frustration, and you knew the amount of self control and effort it took for him to patiently parent his son. When his eyes turned helpless, you crouched down in front of Megumi. 

“Not sure which shirt to wear?” you asked, and the little boy nodded shyly. You hummed in understanding and reached out to take one of the shirts that Toji held in his hand. You brought it close to you and held it up against the fabric of your dress, something light and casual for the morning, and lowered your head to peer into Megumi’s eyes. 

“How about this one,” you offered, “I think it’s nice, and it nearly matches the color of my dress. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Megumi’s expression lit up and he held his hands out eagerly for the shirt of choice. After passing it to him you stood, smiling softly at Toji as he mouthed a ‘thank you’ and then backed out of the room. “I’ll wait for you guys out here.” 

Just as you made it halfway back down the hall, you heard Megumi sigh in a way that sounded years older than he was. 

“Your choice was ugly anyway, Dad.” 

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

Y'all, I swear I reread my fics to proof and edit them, but surely I'll find a mistake every run through, so please forgive me for any that I didn't catch.

Thank you for reading if you do<3

[powderblueblood]

YES, NURSE RATCHED - a hellfire & ice retelling of chapter eight's most pivotal moment, from eddie's pov

a special treat for my love @deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth eddie munson x f!reader, reader is nicknamed lacy, reader's last name is also mentioned, this is lore-filled and handsy so if that's not your thing keep it truckin, minors dni i do not like you go away warning for strong language, smut inthe form of public fingeringgggg, drug usage, extremely bad parenting (al munson klaxon), evoking the feeling of a comedown, billy hargrove gets his shit rocked, excuse all typos it's redacted o'clock and i'm a little buzzed word count: 2.6k

The first thing you should know about the following occurrences is that they are preluded by a whole lot of next thing Eddie knows. Things snapping his attention to the left, to the right, knocking him over the head, rearing up on him with little to no warning.

Number one? His dad showing up at Reefer Rick’s, eyes bloodshot and sleep deprived and frantic, putting on a pantomime of being so psyched to see his boy! Rick snapping to attention and falling into his role of affable associate of Munson Senior immediately, despite the apology he’d tried to press against Eddie right when Al crunched the gravel of his driveway. What followed was a bender that Eddie couldn’t help but give into. Al has that effect on people, even him, even Eddie in his angry, angsty resoluteness that he should know better. 

You try knowing better when you're all bewitched, bothered and bewildered and shit.

Cue cut lines and records blaring until daylight broke over Lover's Lake– then Eddie, rising at noon but barely landed from his previous (ill-advised and bad-parentally-supervised) high, got it in his head that he ought to show up for school. At least for a little bit. 

Because they’d tossed your last name around a little last night, Al and Rick. Doevski this, Doevski that, in weird, vague terms that Eddie didn’t all the way understand. And the more weed he smoked and the more Jim Beam that got passed around, the less he remembered.

Which, dumb, right?

You’d tell him that was dumb.

You’d tell him he should have stayed sharp, listened up, gathered information.

He passed out on Rick’s sagging couch, mind searing with nothing but thoughts of you nagging him for intel.

Eddie woke up cotton-mouthed with your name on his lips. 

He needed to see you.

To catch one of your avoidant, barely-there glances as you flit through the hallway or maybe even spy you smoking a cigarette on the outdoor bleachers, reading in silence with Ronnie or Wheeler.

He’d think of what to say to you in the moment; probably spurned on by the sneer you’d give him– which he’d totally have earned, for having the nerve to ignore you for so long. 

Forgive me, he'd say, hands held aloft in Christlike composure, I just couldn't look you in the eye knowing you were getting willingly boinked by some Ivy League sweater monkey.

And then you'd have to admit your little bullshit college boyfriend wasn't Ivy League, and he'd prod you with that for a while, and things would eventually ebb back to whatever shade of normal you two were pretending to be. So? Okay!

But.

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s peeling into the parking lot and the first thing that he sees, bada bing, is you. All however many feet of you, steel true and planted on the hood of Billy Hargrove’s fucking Camaro, wielding a baseball bat like a sword.  

Eddie’s heart stops for the full entirety of a what fresh hell is this filter-focused second before he skids the van to a halt and launches himself from it. 

He advances this helluva scene just in time to hear you holler out, right in front of God and everyone,

“One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!” 

Eddie’s tread stutters and he wonders if this is what people mean when they use the expression taken out at the knees. Can he get a fucking encore, please? 

But then there’s the issue of the rabies-ridden Hargrove, the kid who’s snorted so much of Eddie’s dubiously cut supply that it’s no wonder that word has gotten around that he can’t keep his johnson rigid. There’s a thread dangling somewhere that makes Eddie wonder how familiar you are with that concept but. Alas. Digression. 

Hargrove calls you a cunt, and Eddie’s vision is replaced with a swathe of red. 

How ‘bout you try playing it cool, hearing someone talk to your girl like that, after a night of fun family drug-taking? 

Wait. His what? Hold on--

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s side-swiping Hargrove like a dirty bumper car, yak yaks something kind of funny (he hopes) and does not turn to look at you standing backlit like a holy fucking statue. Because he knows you’ll look beautiful up there, white hot with rage, holding a weapon poised for minor automotive destruction. He can’t handle beauty, not right now. Because of that thing from before with his knees. 

“...now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”

It’s impossible to say whose hair trigger that tugged first, yours or Eddie’s. That’s like chicken vs egg. That’s like Han vs Greedo. That’s like, irrelevant. 

That baseball bat clatters to the pavement, a hearty overture to Eddie’s surge of empowerment, of rage, of insisting that she isn’t, I’m not, she isn’t, I’m not, nobody talks about her like that–

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s sitting beside you. Outside the principal’s office. Hand split open and aching, nose backed up and a little bleeding, coming down like the fucking Hindenberg. Reckoning with the fact that he wouldn’t need to be a little morning-after zipped on coke to throw a punch for you, if it came down to it. If it came down to it, he would have tried caving in Billy Hargrove’s other eye socket. He would have made him look like the Elephant Man if you needed him to. 

He liked that Eraserhead movie you made him watch. 

“He needs an ice pack…”

The soft mumble from you makes Eddie take this breath that makes his chest feel like it might concave. You, you. Reckless, unbuttoned, unlaced, off-kilter you, that still had time to snap at him after he’d tried to freeze you out, that still had eyes that asked him did it hurt? 

Eddie eavesdrops on as much of your grilling with Higgins and the hot guidance counsellor as his damaged eardrums will allow. Temporary insanity. Disgusting prank. He wonders what that’s about… and again, didn’t even think to question what brought you onto the hood of Hargrove’s car. He just saw you. He just acted.

He just keeps doing that. 

And then he hears. College. Application deadlines are within touching distance. 

“I can turn this around.”

Of course. Eddie hadn’t even thought about that, because he’s him. And it was something you were probably worrying yourself sick over, because you’re you– you wanted out of here. To get up, go, be someone great.

“New York, ideally,” you’d said to him once, tightrope walking across the broken bleachers outside; you’d been waiting around for him to give you a ride home, but he had a deal to make first. You were weirdly patient, weirdly pensive that day. “Someplace I can go and burrow in and absorb everything and grow out of a crack in the sidewalk, new.” 

Eddie’d held your hand, helping you step over a gap in the bench, “Not taking Manhattan by storm? Hurricane Lacy?” 

You–and he remembered this–had held onto his hand for a few more minutes, a cigarette dwindling in the other. Your fingers were cold; they clutched at his a little tighter when you spoke again. 

“No. Not Manhattan, not midtown, not big business. I have precipitated a change in my weathervane.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that someone taught me the difference between being important and being significant.” 

Back in the room. Eddie drawls out some stupid crack to Higgins, who he’s still supplying with enough benzos to take out Jonestown a second time, which is the only reason he hasn’t been booted out of Hawkins High for absolute and final good. And then you’re alone again, the two of you. Together. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

Next thing Eddie knows, he’s spending the last of his energy like it’s burning a hole in his pocket, horsing around on the nurse’s saddle stool while you rifle through her office. You are all edgy and commanding because you have no idea how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me.

Good. He likes you better like this, at least for right now. Likes to watch you attempt to pirouette on the razor’s edge of your relationship to one another, mostly because your attempt is more graceful and easier to watch than his is. And he likes to watch you. Watch you do anything, really. 

Watch you snap at him to get on the bed. Fuck. 

Watch you tear and dab at his busted knuckles. Fuckfuck. 

Watch you talk about Cat People and press his hand to his chest and tell him he’s injured and wrong and watch you watch searing, singing alcohol on his split lip dry up. Eddie watches your eyes brighten and darken with curious affection, like those twinkle lights that fade in and out, steady as breathing. His breathing is anything but steady. His knees have come apart, letting you stand between them.

You dab and he lets this broken sound loose from him, because the proximity of your body to his feels like a fresh fucking spring breeze and god, god, the way you’re touching him with such gentle, measured movements, like you’ve choreographed every one–

You’re so exact. You’re so organized. He wants to unexact you.

Eddie uses his good hand, not that either of them are really any good, and presses as much of you into him as he can. The flush of your front, the flush of your mouth, he even has to stop those shorn denim-sheathed legs of his from wrapping around your hips. Eddie’s grip, it travels, hitching tweed up the curve of your ass. 

You don’t push him away like he figured you might, you don’t indignantly demand what is going on?! You don’t. You weave your hand up the line of his thigh, to the hard edge of his crotch where he is straining, a rigidity that’s been building since you went all Nurse Ratched on him. 

A rigidity that’s hard to keep down around you, badum-tsssss. 

Fuck.

Eddie almost knocks the word loose with a low groan that’s pressed into the supple flesh of your cheek, your lovely blushing fucking cheek, a cheek he goes to kiss or bite or something but misses by a hair because you’re straining your neck back. To look at him. Not soberly, he hopes. 

Someone down there is wishing him death by dick.

Not the wettest, wildest, filthiest dreams that he’s had about you (and categorically, there have been many) could have prepared Eddie Munson from the earth-shattering consequences of this tiny gesture. Your tongue, perfect and pink, darts to his lip, stinging and sore and comes away with the tiniest drop of ruby-red blood sitting on its tip. 

And you suck his bottom lip between yours, eyes fluttering closed.

Eddie’s cock jumps as his heart does, not a second out of time, as you clamber up, into his lap– so completely un-Lacylike, so totally… unexact. How, in all the vastness of Heaven and earth and Middle Earth and Hell and the Bookstore and the closet and his bedroom and the van could he be so fucking stupid?

“Just friends, right?” Eddie is deaf to how pained it comes out sounding.

His good hand travels. He finds your thighs, the softness there giving way to easy indents for his fingers and he knows, he knows that this is where his hands should be–unless, higher could be good? Higher, high up past those offending, incriminating lace top stockings that drilled through Eddie’s mind like an ice pick, giving him whatever the opposite of a lobotomy is. Haunting him with a fervour, begging him to snap them, but there’s no fucking time for that, god it hurts but there’s no fucking time for that because you. Two. Are. In. The fucking. Nurse’s. Office. 

But the world has ceased turning. 

Eddie’s mouth opens in a silent attempt at a moan as his fingers push past to the beating, radiating core of you that the throbbing, radiating core of him longs for. 

You’re so wet, and soft and lush and it rings through is head like a fucking hallelujah, you’re wet, you’re wet for him.

More than anything, he needs your encouragement–he needs to know that you want him to keep going. That you want him, that you want him, that–

You nod, frantic and undone, and Eddie kisses you for it just before he realizes he has no idea what he’s doing. But nothing in his body tells him to zoom out–in fact, the only thing he wants is more in. More you, more of you wrapped around him. He moves his hands with a clumsiness usually uncharacteristic of him, fucking guitar guy, fucking painting miniatures and shit guy. But it works, according to you and the way you keen against him with your beautiful, spit-shining lips parted and pulling against his. 

These little noises, chirps and swallowed moans of yours– it’s like music. He wants to choke on them.

Eddie’s voice kind of cracks open again, letting a little air and a touch of begging out. He strains, pained, cock aching against the hitch of denim. “Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”

Because you’re lonely, and Eddie knows that, with his fingers stroking you deep. You’re lonely, or would be, were it not for him. And it feels like now, in the heady swirl of these few moments that are stretched into an infinity, that he’s using it against you, but he’s not. He should be the one doing this for you, he should be the one making you feel this way, making you tremble even as he clumsily thumbs at your clit, because he thinks knows you and he thinks you want it unmeasured and unshackled and washing over you in a wave of sheer blind devotion and that’s why his tongue is all over your neck. 

That’s why his knuckles are split. 

That’s why there’s no malice in Eddie’s voice when he croaks, “Just friends? Lacy?” as you rock and spasm, hands clutching him around the shoulder and whimpers barely deadened against his lips. He can feel the texture of your pinched brow against his own. 

He wants to clutch you as close as he possibly can, but he’s got one good arm and it’s between your legs.

Between your legs. Jesus fucking Christ. 

Sobriety hits like a tidal wave as your breath returns to its normal rhythm; Eddie’s doesn’t quite have the same rebound. He’s still huffing a little, out of exertion or out of nerves, as he slips his hand out from under you, brushing what was off on his jeans. A small patch of his own bodily fluid collected there too, making sure he’s wearing the both of you like Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter as he walks around for the rest of the day. 

Eddie, throat starting to tighten up, pulls you in for one kiss, to give you one last taste of where he’d been split open for you. Melodrama dances around it; shades of we shouldn’t have, but we did, but we can’t, but now I have to fucking live with the fact I cracked open this Pandora’s box and I’m sorry. 

Or something to that effect. 

And you see right through him, because you always do. Hair in a muss, lips flushed, adjusting your skirt, re-exacting yourself, you clean up any evidence that this had ever happened. At least, on a surface level. 

Eddie dares to look at you once more, and you dare to look back at him. And thank god he’s sitting down, because that look shoots him right through the fucking aorta. You, wide-eyed and small-looking, pupils darting and unsure, are asking him why. Pleading with him, why. Why do this. Why now. Why at all, ever, why did you have to. Even though you know. 

“I–”

“No, I know. I know. I certainly know.”

Because you’re Lacy. You know everything. 

Eddie does think about going after you for a second, after your curt nod and dash through the door but he knows that it’s a zero-sum game. He has nothing good to say. It’s not even you that’s rendered him speechless– funny thing, you usually do the opposite. You always give him something to say. He just has nothing good to say. Nothing worthy of you. 

So he sits there, on the examination table, waiting for the mythical Nurse Lydia to tend to his wounds. 

First he’ll will himself soft, then he’ll will himself sane. 

Famous last words.

[1d1195]

Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

*

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon—especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I’m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

*

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

--

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[yunhonumeris1fane]

Mad at you•JYH

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"You've been under a lot of stress, struggling to take care of yourself, which made your boyfriend worry and caused a short fallout between you"

genre - angst to fluff

pairing - bf yunho x reader

warnings- an argument between the reader and Yunho.

"Y/n, why aren't you sleeping, I thought you came over to sleep" Yunho enters the living room, yawning excessively, as it was around 11 p.m.

 Your upstairs neighbours have been renovating their apartament for weeks now, not feeling a tad bit guilty for disrupting your life even during late hours, weekends. You found yourself unable to focus and sleep, leaving you stressed out. Yunho suggested you to come over and stay at his place, to get a good night's sleep and do your projects, as it was peaceful here. And now that you're here, instead of going to sleep, you shrug it off and work on your projects.

"I'm really busy, I have two days to finish this project" you sigh, looking up to meet his eyes, he's not smiling as usual, instead there's worry lingering around his face.

"You can do it tomorrow. Go to sleep. When was the last time you had a full night's sleep huh. At least 5 hours?"

"Doesn't matter, go to sleep yourself, I'll join you later" You murmur, your half hooded eyes back on the laptop screen. Sleep deprivation is catching up.

"I can't stand watching you acting this stupid Y, get a grip of yourself " Yunho raises his voice a little, feeling hopeless, unsure of what else to do to help you.

"Then don't watch, just leave" you snap at him, as his face goes blank.

"You know, I really wanted to help you, but if you don't need my help, then it's fine" he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, disappointment in his voice is hard not to notice.

"I don't need help" you mumble, busy typing into the laptop, "leave me alone"

"Say that again" his jaw clenches, as he looks at you in disbelief, "and look me in the eyes"

 You lift your eyes to face him, "c-can you stop talking please, l-leave, I-I'm busy" your voice breaks a little, as now not only your work is stressing you out, but Yunho's nagging too.

 That is enough for Yunho, he gives up and goes back to his room, slamming the door shut. 

 'Was I too harsh?' You wonder to yourself, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands. When you're under a lot of stress, the worst version of you tends to come out. You accidentally hurt people, even if you don't really mean it.

 The guilt catches up with you, so you find yourself standing by the door to his bedroom. You really want to barge in and hug him, begging for forgiveness. But you can't seem to bring yourself up to knock on the door, so turn around and tippytoe back to the living room.

 Yunho was really good at persuading people, as you are now closing your laptop shut and going to the bathroom, to take a shower, with a plan in mind to sleep on the couch later on.

 As you're headed to the bathroom, Yunho comes out of his room, to get himself a glass of water. Your eyes meet for a second, but no words leave your mouths.

 Once in the bathroom, you hang your clothes on the hook and step into the shower. In less than 30 minutes, you step out, water droplets running down all over your body. Your body feels clean, but inside you feel dirty.

 As you fetch a large towel and wrap it around your body, securing it at top, you glance at the mirror, covered in fog, from the steamy shower earlier. Your head feels a little dizzy, you don't know whether it's from the lack of sleep, not eating well enough or stress. The longer you stare at yourself, the worse the dizziness gets. You take in a couple of deep breaths, but it doesn't help, once you start hearing ringing in your ears, you know you're done. And so you collapse, unable to hold yourself conscious for any longer.

 When Yunho hears a loud thud coming from the bathroom, his heart stops for a moment. He abandons the glass of water and sprints to the bathroom. Swinging the door open, he sees your body laying on the tile floor. He quickly brings himself down to you, to check if you're hurt, but he doesn't see any wounds, so he slides his arms under your legs, your back and picks you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He gently lays your body down on the bed and goes back to the bathroom to take your clothes and change you into dry ones. Once he's done, he covers you with a blanket and sits beside you, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

 Moments later you flutter your heavy eyelids and see Yunho holding your hand, a soft smile displayed on his face.

 "I'm really sorry, I was so stressed, didn't know what I was talking about" you apologise to him, as your other hand finds its way on top of his.

"It's okay silly, I know you didn't mean it" Yunho shows his understanding, speaking in a comforting, gentle voice.

"Go sleep, I'll go brush my teeth and be back" he smiles as he brings his lips to your forehead, placing a warm and loving kiss, before disappearing for a good five minutes.

 When he's back, you make some space for him, as he slides his body under the covers and wraps his hands around your waist, bringing you closer to his body. Your back pressed against his chest, as he's nuzzled into your neck, taking it the sweet vanilla aroma from your shower gel.

"I love you, let's not fight again" Yunho suggests, as you feel his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses.

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[ghostlythunderbird]

How they show their love ~ Task Force 141 

Pairings: Simon Riley, John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, John Price X Fem! Reader

Warnings: Sugar (SFW), Little bit of Spice (NSFW), and everything nice!

Author Notes: My brain do be shutting down while writing these HCs but that’s ok cause a little violence and sleep deprivation never fully hurts anyone, right?

Simon “Ghost” Riley

So to start things off personally Simon isn’t one to really go out with his love due to his past but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t show his love in general. Simon’s love language is gift giving but he actually does it more subtly, in ways not many can see even when watching him do these things. 

Believe it or not but this big guy loves to leave small gifts in places that only you would know to look at. These small gifts include but not pertained to Candy, Favorite Drinks, a Single Flower, etc. If one day you have a headache/migraine and don’t have any pain meds, a random bottle of your preferred pain killers appear randomly in your backpack.

I’ll add this in but all of this starts once Simon starts to feel comfortable around you, maybe even trust you outside of a mission. It becomes deeper once you catch him in the act of leaving a candy bar you’ve been “Whining” about for the last week according to him. Having caught this looming giant in the act seemed to paint the picture that this guy isn’t as subtle as he seems.

You can’t help but smile seeing only small streams of who he really is. Of course you don’t want to make the poor guy melt into the floor in front of you, but he didn’t seem to stop you as you stepped towards him. Reaching up to touch his covered cheek you couldn’t stop the words pouring from your mouth “You know Ghost, I’m starting to think that heart isn’t as cold as you let on.”

John “Soap” MacTavish 

This man is a teddy bear when it comes to showing his unconditional love for you. His way he shows his love is not just with quality time but physical touch too, like good luck getting this man off of you when he’s home. Johnny just loves to be around you but he will respect your space if you say you need to take a break from him.

Another way this man will show his love is by pranking you, whether it be small pranks or full on scares you better be cautious of this cheeky gremlin.

His best one he’s done was him placing EVERYTHING in different spots and acting as if it was normal. The dishes are now in the refrigerator, the pantry food is now in the cupboard with your favorite snacks in the very top, all the frozen stuff is now in the sink on ice. It may be a small harmless joke but it was still irritating regardless, mostly because now you couldn’t find your snacks.

If you end up being a little angry at him he will cling to you afterwards asking for forgiveness “Come on Bonnie I thought it was funny.” Does this end up with apology sex? You're goddamn right it does.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 

Now this sweet human here I feel like is a mix between a few of the love languages, he loves to give you small gifts that he’s collected off of his missions. While he’s off on missions for months at a time he ends up having a whole bag to bring back to you consisting of necklaces, bracelets, clothes, and small trinkets that he would think you would love.

Kyle also loves to help you whenever he can, he often feels that if he can’t help with anything that he’s not doing anything productive. Even after you tell him you don’t need help he will give you puppy dog eyes until you decide there is something he can help out with. No matter how small the task is he will see it to the end.

His favorite thing to do is help you redecorate your shared flat. From picking out new paint to new furniture if something in the flat has lost its functionality he loves to be part of the whole process. If anyone says that they don’t like your style you choose, prepare to hold him back cause this man will fight for you.

John Price

All I can truly say what johns love languages are both Physical Touch and Quality Time and y’all can fight me on that. Due to his job he can’t be home as often as he would like so the best way to get around it is with phone calls and face time. Of course if our dear captain if feeling more wound up than usual its bound to end up with phone sex.

But once he returns home after however long your not gonna be leaving the bed for the first week. While yes this might be a different form of quality time and personal touch, it still is the basic form of him showing how much he loves and has missed you. After the first week though he will be more doting on you more than usual.

Weather its watching T.V., cooking, going shopping in town, he has a hand on you as much as possible. It also grounds him, reminding him that he’s returned home safe for now. As much as he would like nothing more than to be cuddled up on the couch with you in your home, he understands if you want to go out during his time home so he’s willing when you drag him off to who knows where.

Sorry if this is super short, my brain isn’t as functional today. But if you enjoyed this post please leave a like and a reblog!

[idv-sweethearts]

Ithaqua Relationship Headcanons 🧁!

Notes: TW for vague implications of SH and vague implications of an ED (But it's vague enough that you could interpret it as either one).

♥︎ So the first thing I think you need to know is that he'd really prefer to start out as friends. To get to know you. To learn about you. He wants to know what your intentions are and what kind of person you are before he even considers allowing you that kind of role in his life.

♥︎ I think he'd most admire a person who is gentle towards others (Especially animals), treats others with a sense of understanding, and has a sense of humor. He'd also find people who insist with complete seriousness that they are superior to everyone around them to be a bit annoying. He believes there is no one right way to be and that insisting that everyone must act the way you do is just plain wrong.

♥︎ Speaking of gifts, expect for him to bring you random small things he finds like he's some kind of odd bird. If you also start bringing him random things you find, he will be ecstatic that you both have your little collections and he'll consider it to be a silly little competition to see who can get the other more tiny objects.

♥︎ The second thing you need to know is that when you do end up in a romantic relationship with him, he will talk to you less but spend time with you more. He's not completely silent. He's just a bit quieter now. He's gotten to know you. He's getting more and more comfortable around you. It will take him a few months to get comfortable with physical contact since that's something that feels somewhat foreign to him, but he'll find himself becoming more physically affectionate with time. Early on, though, he's definitely more likely to gravitate towards quality time and gifts.

♥︎ It will be a while before you see his face. He doesn't seem to like removing his mask a whole lot and he isn't too fond of physical contact, so he keeps his skin covered most of the time too.

♥︎ If you want to give him physical affection, I'd recommend just some hand-holding. He'd find the sudden contact to be a pleasant and welcome surprise if you're both at the point where you're comfortable with it. I'd say if he's giving you affection, he's comfortable receiving it.

♥︎ While he doesn't use words much, he's a bit of a giggly bitch when he's in a good mood. And hearing you laugh is a comfort to him. He likes to make you laugh until your sides hurt. He doesn't like to see you suffering or in pain, but he likes knowing that you're having fun.

♥︎ I want to make it extremely fucking clear that too much has happened in the past for him to ever forgive himself if anything happens to you. If anyone ever seriously hurts you, whether it be physically or mentally, comforting you his top priority, but he will at least consider killing whoever caused your pain. If he can do it and not get caught, he will. And he won't let you do it unless you're really insistent. Best to keep the blood off your hands, you know? You shouldn't have to watch the life leave a person. That could hurt you further and he doesn't want that.

♥︎ Speaking of comfort, he's become quite good at it. He'll learn in time to pick up on your body language to figure out what you need at the moment. This will be a time where he does speak to you, to tell you that no-one will hurt you while he's around and that he won't hurt you either. He wouldn't dream of it. You don't have to tell him what happened, though he'll listen to every word if you choose to confide in him. What you ought to tell him, though, is what he can do to help. Because he'll do his god damn best to make you feel better. That being said, he'll usually prioritize what you need over what you want. If you want to do something that's bad for you, he won't entirely deprive you of your choice in the matter and he'll listen to your reasoning, but he will argue with you over it.

♥︎ He has trouble sleeping. He lies awake at night for hours sometimes, just listening to the world around him and waiting for something bad to happen. During this time, it's best to just talk to him. He won't verbally respond much because he just doesn't feel like it, but he will be more okay with physical affection. It's a reminder that you're there and you're not going anywhere.

♥︎ And speaking of sleeping, he's probably the type to make a nest or fort of sorts from the blankets. Something to keep both of you warm, assuming you're both comfortable sleeping in the same bed. His body is quite warm and he prefers the cold most of the time, but while he's resting is one of the few exceptions. The warmth can be overwhelming to him at times, but it's always felt like an embrace to him. He finds it physically uncomfortable, but emotionally soothing.

♥︎ He doesn't like when he's alone and it's quiet. His mother is alive as far as I can tell, but she doesn't speak anymore. For a long while, you won't be allowed around her because she's terrified of you. It's not personal. She's just not entirely there anymore. She's like a prey animal. While she may initally come off as docile, she's nonverbal, scared that everything that moves will harm her, and hardly the same person she used to be. If you want to interact with her, be patient and don't you dare ever insult or harm her. In Ithaqua's mind, you are a delight, but that will change real fucking quick if you hurt his mother, intentionally or unintentionally. He'd be a little more understanding if it was unintentional, but he'd be very upset with you for a few days. If you want to make it up to them, make his mom a gift and let him give it to her. After whatever you may have done, you won't be able to interact with her directly for a long while. He just doesn't want to see her get hurt again and his attachment to her is stronger than his attachment to anyone else. You're very dear to him, but his mother is his mother.

♥︎ If he's upset with you for any reason, he'll mostly be silent and avoid you until he isn't upset anymore, which will probably take two days or so. After that, he'd be open to talking with you about whatever may have upset him. He just doesn't want to confront the situation until he's thought about it and made sure he's calm enough to handle everything rationally. During the conversation about what happened, he won't insult you with malicious intent. He wants you to understand why he's upset and he might accidentally say something hurtful while trying to get his point across. He doesn't mean to and he feels extremely guilty over it. If he sees you're upset, he'll take a deep breath, assess the situation, and try to be a little more gentle with how he handles things like this in the future, though he won't stop trying to talk about these kinds of things with you because you're a person with free will and the ability to make mistakes, and god damn it he's gonna treat you like a person because that's what you deserve.

♥︎ When he's upset but not at you, he'll be even less talkative and even more physically affectionate. You're very dear to him and he finds comfort in just knowing you exist.

♥︎ Overall, he's very gentle and affectionate with those he cares about, but in a way that can come off as cold and uninterested depending on how you interpret social interactions. To him, you are both just living beings and he accepts all of the good and the bad that comes with that. You chose him and he chose you and every day, you continue choosing eachother and he's grateful for that.

[captain-mj]

I love you stuff it’s all so good!

Would you be willing to do a graves x price where price finally finds Shepard and graves is there too so Shepard thinks it’s 2v1 with graves on his side but nah bc price treats graves right? Only if you want to! No rush or pressure just an idea.

Have a great New Years and save travels (if ur traveling lol) <3

This happened right after this post because I love continuity. Also happy New Years!

~~~~

Price woke up and felt a weight on him immediately. He relaxed when he saw the soft blond hair, slightly singed on the ends from the fire. 

Graves’s head was on his chest, holding him loosely around his waist. He was a quiet sleeper and luckily didn’t drool on him. When sleeping, he looked angelic. Not at all the little bastard Price knew him to be. 

With a sigh, because fuck he did not want to deal with his team right now, he pulled himself out of Graves’s embrace. Hickeys. Bites. Handprints. It looked like Graves had been in and lost a fight. Every inch of his back and his thighs had some marking on them.

Price couldn’t tell if he felt a bit guilty or proud of that. 

Graves didn’t wake up, so he left quietly. He turned around and...

“Did you guys wait here all night?”

“Ghost has been lying and saying things and we just want you to confirm them.” Gaz stood up tall. “Did you.... yo.... did you...”

“Did you fuck Graves?” Soap looked exhausted. His accent coming out thick. “Ghost is saying with his super hero,” Simon rolled his eyes, “he could hear you guys. I said, based on the screams, it was clear you were torturing him for information.”

“No. We fucked. I feel bad for all of you guy’s partners.” Price brushed past them. “We’re not talking about this right now though, we need to deal with Shepherd.”

Ghost fell into step beside him, forcing everyone else to walk behind him thanks to how narrow the hallways were. Alejandro was cursing a bit, but no one pushed, letting him start the meeting.

“Graves told me where Shepherd is, along with how many men he probably has. Apparently we killed quite a bit more than we thought. The shadows are down half their men.”

“And he told you during pillow talk or something?” Rodolfo crossed his arms. 

“No. You don’t want to know. So anyway, as I was saying.” He moved right on by that, going over everything he knew. 

“Will be heading to the coordinates at 0200. Should be dark which will cover our tracks.”

They all stared at him.

“I will give you five minutes to ask him a couple of questions.”

“Why?”

“He’s hot. Next questions.”

“He’s a bad guy.”

“Not a question, but he had proof Shepherd was keeping things from him. He wasn’t aware of a lot of things going on.”

“Will he be staying?”

“Don’t know. He is a war criminal but we’re all war criminals. Trying to figure that out.”

“Does this make him the team’s stepdad?” Ghost asked, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yes. Anyway that’s enough questions.” Price answered as seriously as he could, watching everyone start to panic.

He left the room and went straight back to his bedroom. It would be smart to try to sleep some more, but the idea made him restless. Insomnia and sleep deprivation were just part of the job. 

Graves had woken up, still in just Price’s shirt. He only moved when Price came in.

“Wasn’t sure if I should leave the bed.” He looked up at him, eyes soft and lips almost pouting.

“I’m sorry for last night.”

“Oh, its fine I deserved it.” Graves rushed to reassure him, still desperate for forgiveness. His hands were on Price’s chest and he looked so damn soft.

“Not the sex part.” Price laughed a little, patting his face. He saw Graves visibly relax. “I didn’t take care of you afterwards. I’m better than that. Lot of those bites need to be attended to.” 

“It’s fine. Usually fix myself up anyway. Just... couldn’t walk last night to do it.” Graves looked a bit flustered.

Price shook his head and helped him up, noticing how bad the limp was. He helped him to the bathroom and started to disinfect anything that needed it. Graves didn’t have any bruising on his face, but around his throat, it was rather bad. Price could make out each of his own fingers from where he had choked him. He touched it gently.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Doesn’t hurt to breath or swallow. Already tested it.” 

Price nodded and helped him get some pants on. Graves almost melted into the contact, pressing against his hands. He was a bit like a cat, needing all the affection he could get. 

“Did I hurt you last night?” Price mumbled, pulling him to his chest. Graves looked surprised.

“Sir, I’ve handled being tortured. I can handle being slapped around during sex.”

“Yes, but did I hurt you?”

Graves frowned, thinking over what he was saying. “I agreed to everything, Ca- John. I... wanted anything from you I could get...” He sounded small, gently fixing Price’s shirt where it had gotten wrinkled. “What do you want from me, sir? I don’t regret any of it. Would go through it again if it meant I could have this morning. I... enjoyed a lot of it. It was a bit more than I usually handle in one night, but the majority of it is stuff I do.”

Price accepted that. 

The majority of the day was spent with Graves telling him anything he thought could be useful. Every habit of every guard he could think of. What he thought the schedules would be. Everything. 

Price thanked him. “You’re obviously staying here.”

“i could help.” 

“Phillip. No one here trusts you.”

Graves stared at him for a moment. “Except you, right? You trust me?” 

Price sighed. “To an extent.” Graves was careful. Didn’t show any outward sign of being upset, even though Price could tell he was.

“Understood.”

~~~~

Yeah, it surprised absolutely no one that Graves found a way to get there. Price cursed himself for not being more careful. Maybe he should’ve tied him up before they left. 

Regardless, he had his gun trained on Shepherd and Shepherds on him. They both looked at Graves and Price felt his stomach sinking. 

He should’ve killed him. 

Shepherd smiled. “Go ahead, John. Put the gun down. You’re outnumbered.”

Graves pulled the hammer back on his gun, but it was aimed at the General. His hands shook slightly, but he stood still.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He hissed out. “You’re the one that’s outnumbered.”

Price stared at Graves, almost forgetting he was in a standoff. 

“What? Commander, get your head out of your ass.”

“Shut up. Shut. Up.” Graves stiffened. “I’m not a Commander anymore. Thanks to you. Thanks to what you did, I lost half my people.”

“Casualties happen.”

“You don’t set kindling on fire and act surprised when it burns. You sent us all there to die.” Graves was bordering on hysterics, hands shaking harder. Price kept his gun steady for the both of them, waiting. Just waiting for the moment. 

Shepherd went to point his gun at Graves and Price shot straight through him, putting several rounds in his chest. 

Graves backed up a step, watching the General crumble. He let out a soft breath. 

“I wanted to help take him down. Wanted... for my men, ya know?”

Price went straight for him, pulling him close. He hugged him tight, probably too tight. 

“Hey... I’m okay, Captain.” Graves looked up at him. “I’m fine.”

Price nodded, still holding him rather close. “If they ask, you shot him. Okay?”

‘What? Why?”

“Builds trust.”

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes of Graphorns

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Adult f! MC

Read Chapter 1-12 here.

Previously: Sharp finds Elaine in a worrying state in the Room of Requirement after her return from St. Mungo's. He invites her to dance, but Elaine pushes him away because she believes she can protect him from her fate by doing so. Summary: Elaine withdraws after the incident in the Room of Requirement. However, shortly before the end of the summer holidays, she attends a staff meeting and is assigned the task of escorting a new student to Hogwarts.

Chapter 13 - Haegel's Ham I

"We have heard that the Auror is soon departing for Haegel's Ham."

A threatening silence fell upon the room, heavy like a sudden realization that shakes the present.

"First Scarborough, and now Haegel's Ham?"

"Y-yes, ma'am..."

The rustling of parchment, frantic searching. Silence again. Then a sharp intake of breath.

"Show me a picture of her."

Hurried steps on wooden floors. Sudden bustle to delay the inevitable. A leather folder was untied. A picture of Elaine Hopkins slid onto a smoothly polished wooden table.

"You want to tell me that you have been tracking this Auror for years, and no one, absolutely no one thought it necessary to tell me that she looks exactly like our little Obscurial?"

The voice froze the air in the room.

"So the child is coming home, is she? Interesting."

A chair creaked, then slow but determined steps.

"You will leave for Haegel's Ham immediately. If Sharp is with her, aim for his left leg first. We must exploit the weakness we inflicted on him. Then capture her and eliminate him. She has been injured twice already because she wanted to protect her ridiculous partners. Do it quickly, or soon there will be nothing left of her Ancient Magic."

"But, do you really want to... she is your..."

"I know who she is! And it won't change my plans. We need new artefacts. Or do you want to trade with shrunken heads again?"

"Of course not."

"Then you better not fail."

-

Elaine could not forgive herself. She kept telling herself that it had been necessary, that there was no other way, that she couldn't allow anyone else near her to get hurt. But deep down, she knew that she had deprived herself of her only confidant, and it hurt. It tormented her more than the curse, knowing that she would never again feel Aesop Sharp's presence, never again experience his touch, never again hear the gentle sound of his voice when they were alone together.

The scene kept replaying in her head. How she had pushed Sharp away, how she had deliberately exploited his greatest weakness to cause him pain. The horror in Sharp's eyes and his pain-filled scream haunted her sleep. She knew he did not deserve to be treated this way and that she had forever damaged his trust in her.

Elaine spent a lot of time tending to her plants and creatures. She tried to distract herself by observing the behaviours of the creatures and found a bit of solace in the presence of the Graphorns. The Lord of the Shore particularly seemed to seek her presence during this time.

"Do you remember Professor Sharp?" Elaine whispered as she sat with her back leaned against his trunk on the sun-warmed meadow in the Room of Requirement. A Niffler had curled up in her lap and was sleeping peacefully. The Lord of the Shore rumbled as if in response and inclined his head towards Elaine. He looked at her with attentive eyes.

"Of course," Elaine said with a tired smile. The Lord of the Shore inclined his head and began to carefully touch Elaine's face and chest with his tentacles. He nudged her as if encouraging her to do something. Then he gave a deep, almost sad grumble. Elaine felt her face heat up. She swallowed.

"I made a terrible mistake."

Elaine leaned back and let her head sink onto the Graphorn so that she could look at the sky filled with white clouds. She sighed and silently watched the Phoenix, which seemed to split the sky with its reddish shimmer. Its cry filled the room and seemed to pierce directly through Elaine's body.

The Phoenix.

Elaine suddenly jumped up and immediately regretted it as a stabbing pain shot through her lower abdomen. In the few moments when she forgot about her new injury, she was usually promptly reminded that it was still there and intended to stay.

The Lord of the Shore looked at her as if wanting to ask what had gotten into her. The Niffler, who had tumbled into the grass and woken up, gave her a reproachful look.

"I have to go to the library," she answered a question no one had asked, as if the creatures could understand what she was saying.

-

Elaine rarely left the Room of Requirement. On the one hand, because she wanted to be alone and needed time to think. On the other hand, because it felt like a betrayal to leave the place where she had erred. She felt she deserved to be constantly reminded of what she had done wrong, that it was right to walk this path alone. Elaine spoke little with her colleagues. She did not go to the Great Hall to eat. Instead, a filled plate would appear on her desk each time it was time for meals.

From time to time, Deek and Professor Weasley appeared in the room to check on things. Of course, they had asked questions, but Elaine preferred to keep her answers as vague as possible.

Elaine slipped into her coat and gloves. It was summer, but the clothes made her feel like she was taking a piece of the room's security with her. Besides, some of the cold from Scarborough still seemed to accompany her since the incident there.

On her way to the library, Elaine heard the sound of uneven steps. She tried to figure out from which direction they came, but at that moment, Sharp was already standing in front of her. Elaine was startled. Not only because she was unprepared to meet him alone, but also because he... had changed. His usually alert and awake gaze was tired and expressionless. His hair fell dishevelled and despondently on his shoulders. His beard seemed a bit longer than usual, and Elaine thought she could smell firewhisky.

"Professor..."

Hearing his voice immediately brought back the memory of how he had gently asked her to dance to the harp's music. A shiver ran down her spine.

"Professor Sharp... I..."

The warmth of his body on hers, the touch of his fingertips on her hand.

A perplexed silence spread between them. Elaine's gaze fell on the dark depths of Sharp's eyes, and it felt like she was falling into the warm darkness, the patient melancholy of his mind. They looked at each other, and for a brief moment, it seemed forgotten what had happened between them.

The quiet rise and fall of his chest. The gentle movement in the rhythm of the music. His tender embrace.

For a moment, she thought she saw a similar memory flicker in Sharp's eyes, but then the downcast expression returned to his face.

"I assume Professor Weasley reminded you of today's staff meeting?"

The image of the dance dissolved in Elaine's mind and shortly after flowed into the sight of Sharp's horror on the floor of the Room of Requirement.

"Of course," Elaine answered with a choked voice.

"Good, then I advise you not to be late."

With these words, he turned and left Elaine alone.

-

Elaine found it hard to follow the staff meeting. It was the first time since her absence that she encountered the entire faculty. Ronen and Garlick had immediately taken her in and bombarded her with well-meaning questions about her well-being. Elaine was grateful to be back, but too much social interaction still exhausted her after months of hospital solitude. Occasionally, she glanced at Sharp, and to her surprise, he returned her gaze.

The meeting seemed endless. They discussed lesson plans, rules for the upcoming school year, and announced exam dates.

"Now, to the final point on our agenda," announced Professor Weasley finally. "Next school year, we will once again have a new student who will need our support. Someone will travel to Haegel's Ham to deliver this student's letter and..."

The mention of the town's name, made Elaine listen attentively.

"I will go," she immediately replied.

The entire faculty looked at her in surprise, and only now did Elaine realize that she had not said anything all evening.

"I mean... if there are no objections, of course," she quickly added.

"Are you... already able to travel that far?" Professor Weasley asked, concerned.

Elaine nodded resolutely. She felt Sharp's sceptical gaze on her skin, but she tried not to look over at him.

"Very well, if you are sure about it. You will depart at the end of August, help the student acquire his school supplies, and accompany them to the Hogwarts Express on September 1st. Also, you will need to find a way..."

"...to convince the orphanage management to let them go," Elaine finished the sentence with a nod.

-

Elaine set out early on August 28th. The castle was quiet as she made her way out. The early morning sun climbed kindly through the windows as if to tell her that it would patiently wait for her return, no matter how dark the path ahead might be. She left Hogwarts via the Southern Bridge and disapparated as soon as she had left the castle grounds. She did not notice the tall, dark figure that followed her.

When she appeared in front of a large brick building, a familiar smell immediately struck her. The earthy air of the surrounding forests mixed with the burnt coal of the steam engines, the stables of the nearby farms, and the acrid scent of the rope factory. It was still very early in the morning, so hardly anyone was passing through the streets.

Elaine bit her lower lip as the faded images of the past again painted themselves in vivid, bright colours before her inner eye. Suddenly, she saw Fig again, how he had stood in front of her one day with a fatherly smile and freed her from her shadows until he himself became one of them a year later. Elaine realized that she too had to return with a smile if she wanted to convey that Hogwarts was a safe place to the new student.

A loud Confringo and the hot air from the curse that narrowly missed her face pulled her out of her thoughts. She immediately turned around, drew her wand, and sent a freezing spell in the direction of the attacker to buy herself some time and get an overview of the situation. She could make out three wizards and two goblins in glowing armour made of goblin metal surrounding her. However, she assumed there were more reinforcements lurking to attack from ambush. The Renegades. Her senses were suddenly on high alert. Within a few seconds, she had assessed the situation and sent a Diffindo towards the frozen opponent, taking him out immediately.

Elaine used the brief moment of surprised silence to hurl an explosion curse at another opponent. She initially aimed to take out the goblins, as the powers granted to them by the Ancient Magic artefacts were the most unpredictable. The element of surprise was short-lived, and soon she was being attacked with curses from all sides. She dodged, protected herself, attacked, and hurled stones and barrels at her opponents with the remaining Ancient Magic she possessed. Slowly, she found the old rhythm that had brought her so much success as an Auror.

"She's alone," she suddenly heard a male voice shout, and as expected, new enemies appeared from all directions. Elaine was surrounded. She felt her stamina waning and a new wave of pain signalling its presence in her body, but she had no intention of giving up. Her fighting style resembled a dance, and as long as she didn't lose the rhythm, she would get out of there alive. Attack, dodge, Protego, spin, a step to the side, Bombarda. She took out one attacker after another. As she turned once more, one of the dark wizards suddenly stood right in front of her, grinning.

"You're not what you used to be since you encountered your sister in Scarborough, are you? But don't worry, soon you'll be a happy little family again."

Elaine lowered her wand.

"My... sister?"

"You heard right. Your sister is the Obscurial."

Before Elaine could respond, the stranger pointed his wand at her and whispered, "Crucio."

The pain hit her suddenly and familiarly. Elaine dropped her wand and sank to her knees. In that moment, she knew she had lost. The first time she had encountered the curse, her body had barely obeyed her, and back then, she had been young and uninjured. This time, it felt like she was burning from the inside out, as if the fire that had taken her father was now slowly and deliberately consuming her own life. It felt as though every scar on her skin was ripping open again, letting her life force slowly drip to the ground. Elaine wanted to scream, but she couldn't. All the air had been pressed out of her lungs, and she couldn't inhale to counter it. Elaine felt gravity pulling her down and watched in slow motion as the cobblestones approached.

"We need you alive, but not in your right mind," the dark wizard grinned cunningly, "let's see how long you-"

Suddenly, the effect of the torture curse faded. At the last moment, Elaine turned to the side so she wouldn't land too harshly on the stone floor. She managed to lift her gaze just in time to see the dark wizard being knocked off his feet. More flashes of light followed at impressive speed, and within a short time, the forecourt of the orphanage was silent. Elaine heard footsteps approaching, their rhythm regularly interrupted by short pauses. Someone who slowly and deliberately knelt beside her. Then fingertips brushed her tangled hair from her forehead. Elaine recognized the touch immediately. A hand on her shoulder, reassuring her that she was no longer alone and wouldn't have to be in the future. Elaine briefly closed her eyes, as if trying to hold on to and preserve the warmth that suddenly filled her body.

But then she heard something that made her perk up, and by the time she identified its source, it was too late. A curse hit Aesop Sharp's left leg. He collapsed in front of Elaine without uttering a sound in his shock. She reached for her wand, and an unfamiliar feeling coursed through her.

For the first time in her life, she was driven by an intention other than helping. For the first time, her goal shifted from seeking a cure to a different, more destructive impulse: she wanted revenge. Revenge for the pain inflicted on both of them. Revenge for the time stolen from her. Revenge for the feelings taken from her because her days were numbered.

Quickly, she fired one attacking spell after another. She didn't give her opponent a chance to defend himself, and she didn't care. She was aware that she was losing control and that all her anger and sorrow were pouring out in this battle. It was as if this attack reminded her of the day she had pushed Sharp away and she wanted her opponent to pay for her own mistakes. When she was sure the dark wizard wouldn't get up again, she rushed back to the crumpled body on the cobblestones and knelt beside him.

"Here, drink this. It's not much, but..." Elaine pleaded helplessly, holding a bottle of Wiggenweld potion out to Sharp while placing her other hand on his shoulder. Finally, Sharp emerged from his trance, obeyed, and drank. He struggled to get up. He tried to conceal it, but Elaine could tell by the way he moved and how his facial features hardened that he was far from well. That he accepted her help without protest showed her that it was serious. Silently, he looked at her.

"What are you doing here? Why did you follow me? I..." Elaine finally managed to say, but her sentence was interrupted by a rough hand that cupped her cheek and tenderly stroked her face. Elaine trembled.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have..." she tried to explain, but couldn't find the right words for all the mistakes she had made in recent weeks. She had to muster all her strength to calm down. Sharp gently shook his head.

"I remember very well how I treated those who tried to help when I was released from St. Mungo's," he said, his voice tired and weak, "and I also remember that I soon regretted pushing away those closest to me and was too proud to admit it. Those were some very lonely months. I thought I could at least try to spare you that."

Elaine looked down and took a deep breath. She didn't deserve so much understanding, and she knew it. Suddenly, she remembered what the dark wizard had mentioned.

"The attacker... he said that my sister..."

"Yes, I heard that," Sharp replied, concerned.

"Do you think the woman we encountered in Scarborough... But that can't be, it..."

"Based on everything we know so far, it could actually be the case."

Elaine swallowed. Why could she remember her father but not her sister, whom she might have even met in person? Then she shook her head, trying to dispel the thought of the woman who looked so much like her. There were more important things to worry about now.

"Can you walk? We could disapparate back to Hogsmeade and..."

"It's fine, really. I'm already feeling better."

Elaine noted the beads of sweat on his forehead, revealing that he wasn't telling the truth, but she also knew it was pointless to try to change his mind. She considered how to convince him not to put himself in danger without hurting his pride. He couldn't stay here.

"Would... would you come with me?" Elaine changed the subject, nodding towards the entrance of the orphanage, where the sun was now starting to rise. For a moment, Sharp hesitated.

"I don't think someone like me is the right..."

He was about to point to the scar on his face, but then he remembered that Elaine's face was also marked by scars, grief, and countless battles. Sometimes he still saw in her the carefree student who played wizard's chess with her friends in the Great Hall.

"Believe me, we're not the worst thing these children have seen in their lives."

Sharp finally agreed and followed Elaine. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he was limping more severely than before.

PS: I know that 'Haegel's Ham' had a different name in the 19th/20th century, but I like the name, so I kept it.

-> Chapter 14 - Haegel's Ham II

[novankenn]

I'm a WHAT?!?!? (1)

Ozpin stood at his window over looking the Emerald Forest and sipping from his mug. The immortal body hopping parasite of a entity had felt a change in the world. A hint that something new was emerging upon Remnant... and it had him concerned. The Grimm and Salem's machinations were more that enough for him to try and deal with.

The addition of another faction would for good or ill would fracture his focus, and divide his attention. That was something he could ill-afford.

"There is nothing I can do, until they manifest." he sighed as he continued to gaze out over the forest.

While Headmaster Ozpin pondered the situation, Jaune and a incognito Pyrrha were wandering through on of the many parks that dotted Vale's urban sprawl. While Pyrrha deep inside wished the little sojourn she was sharing with Jaune had a more... romantic quality, she was more than happy to just be spending time with him.

Jaune on the other hand was nervous. A thought had been sparked in his mind, through a conversation with a sleep and syrup deprived Nora... one that had him thinking about his partner in a less platonic manner. He wanted to test the waters, but his continual failures with Weiss had shaken his resolve with anyone, let a long a gorgeous young woman, like Pyrrha. A woman he was sure was too good for someone like him.

Several screams shattered the peaceful atmosphere of the small park, and instantly had Jaune and Pyrrha on the move. Even without their weapons they knew they could be of some help. They had aura and could act as shields for those who had none.

While it took the only a minute or so to reach the sounds of the screams and cries for help, the pair felt they had taken too long, but skidded to a halt at the sight before them. A creature made of entirely of purplish good or slime taking on a slightly feminine form was lashing out at anyone in range with dripping slick looking tendrils. Any it caught were slowly being dragged towards it's central mass.

"What in the..."

"Pyr look out!" Jaune shouted cutting off Pyrrha's words while bodily checking her away from a blazing ball of light.

"JAUNE!"

"..."

"JAUNE?"

"Dang it I missed!" came a voice from above them, "Well that can't be helped now... you're a Magic Girl... go defeat that monster!"

"I'm a WHAT NOW?!?" Jaune shrieked in a voice that was snot his own.

"You're a Magical Girl... how I have no idea because boys can't transform... but you have so... go defeat that monster."

"Who... What are you?" Pyrrha snapped her eyes having followed the voice to find the source.

"I'm Onee-Chan... now hurry up, before it escapes!"

"Hurry up and do what?" Jaune whined, "I'm in a dress! I'm a GIRL!"

"That's not a dress! It's your Magical Armor! It'll protect you from harm." Onee-Chan snapped, "It's going to get away! Go defeat it!"

A/N: I get a kick out of "gender-bending" anime and manga. In fact one of my first boy-to-girl (henshin) anime was "Gonna be the Twin-Tail" (for which I actually have written a bit of a fanfic crossover for)... So I found this pretty generic one... but the premise if fun... so here we go... another fem!Jaune One-Shot. Please forgive me.

/== Table of Posts ==/

[saveugoodmadam]

You should tell me about your tangled oc because I'm making a tangled oc and they can be friends uwu

GDUSUDISJSUAI I WILL INDEED HAPPILY TELL YOU!!! (in return for information on your oc)

Florian Leseratte is first introduced as the castle librarian's apprentice, although because the librarian is quite old he pretty much functions as the overall librarian despite being around Varian's age.

During the first half-ish of series one his arc is sort of him coming out of his shell, he acts as a reassurance to Cass, a point of information to Rapunzel and a helper to Varian. During the events of Queen for a Day, he mostly stays with Varian but gets scared and flees when Varian gets all emo.

Also during series one there's a prophecy teased about a secret prince (Rapunzel will still become queen though bc I can do what I want, idc about primogeniture)

I have talked about it like once before but it goes:

Closer than you think he may/The son of Frederick lies/Discovered by the golden tears/That leak from both his eyes

It's set up to tease Varian as the secret prince but at the end of The Alchemist Returns we see Florian crying alone in the library, with a single shot of a golden tear. This is then majorly revealed during Secret of the Sun Drop when he starts crying due to fear.

Series two for him is coming to terms with what happened, and there's a lot of exposition. We find out that after what happened to Rapunzel, Frederick feared the worst and basically handed off Florian to the servants and told Arianna that their baby had been taken seriously ill and passed when she was asleep.

There's also a point midway through the series when the librarian passes away and Florian has to choose whether he becomes a proper prince like his father wants or the head librarian. (He chooses the library ofc.)

He visits Varian in prison at some point in the first few episodes, and they have a super cute duet through the bars of Varian's cell, before he helps Varian escape prison.

In series three his arc is overcoming his fear of making mistakes, especially in the fact that he blames himself the most for Cass' corruption. He is super happy to have Varian back though and is a massive help in the kingdom forgiving him. This series is very much them becoming quite couple-y together and gets a lot of use out of how they fuel each other's talents.

Florian absolutely tags along for Vat7k, there's probably a shot of him with heart eyes after hearing the word 'library' and he's immediately sold on the quest. His role in the group is mediator- he gets on with pretty much everyone, although Hugo kinda hates him for how close he is to Varian.

His arc is mainly focused on how he's joining the quest because he's desperate to get away from Corona, and he realises at the end of it that actually he was running away from his title of Prince. Through Nuru and other royals they meet he finally realises that there is no one way to be a royal and at the climax he uses his title and ties to the kingdom's old magic to amplify the work done by Hugo and Varian. (Valorigo forever btw!!!)

If I had to pick a voice claim, I think Ryan Kopel would fit super well, especially as Florian has a lot of really good songs, his big 'I Am' song being "My Duty", sung during series two. He also has his and Varian's duet- "Something Breaks" and a few songs in Vat7k like "Can We Get Along For Once?" and "Mightier Than".

He's a little taller than Hugo and has shoulder-length wavy brown hair which Varian sometimes plaits when he needs to think. He's got lots of freckles and glasses and grey eyes. (yeah he's maaaaybe based off me. a little bit. a lot.) He wears mostly yellows and usually has a cardigan with him in a casual setting, otherwise a knitted waistcoat. Hugo's nickname for him is "Bookworm" or "Grandma" and Varian's is "Flor" or "Princey".

Fun fact: once I was really sleep deprived and half asleep in my German class and I looked down at the textbook and the name Florian was there (this is after I'd chosen the name) and I was immediately wide awake and also freaked out.

Also other fun fact: His surname is a way of saying bookworm in Germany. Technically his surname is "of Corona" after series one but eh he doesn't gaf and neither would the fans.