#anyway yin smiling is a beautiful thing and i love him

[rafyki]

Compilation of all the secret little smiles Jack has for Joke during ep 5

He hasn't forgiven him yet - yeah sure, that's why he keeps looking at him like that, of course

The "i can't believe he got so hurt while trying to help me and now he keeps apologizing to me" smile after treating his wounds

The "secretly listening to him and finding him so cute and nice" smile

The "oh my god he might be talking about me" smile

The "oh woah he's such a good person" smile

And finally the "yeah who am I kidding I had already forgiven him from the start" smile

Really, our boy Jack never stood a chance

[posarmeklen]

Don’t you hate when you turn your back for a minute at your dead-end copy job (sorry, dead-end desktop publishing job), and all of a sudden, one half of your sister’s cool teen quartet along with your horndog conspiracist friend are holding paper products (er, helping with a big job) and flapping their lips about the latter’s fairly new unplanned pregnancy?

It was just a coincidence that Goat swung by to visit Alex at Repro Man’s shortly after Fruity and Matt came in, and even though they had heard through Chaka (who, naturally, knew because of Alex) that the older man was in a “delicate” condition, it was their first time bumping into him in person since.

Hearing Fruity’s compliments, Matt turned around from the poster in his hands. “Oh, hey, Goat,” he greeted him.

“Hey, Matt, what’s up?”  

“Probably nothing compared to what’s up with you, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Goat coughed.

“Yeah, you know, my cousin just had a baby a couple months ago,” Matt offered up. “I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t easy for her, but she said it was totally worth it. You know, yin and yang and all that.”

“Hey, I don’t think this situation calls for the poetry.” Fruity made a disapproving smacking sound with his lips.  “Man, can’t you just leave this beautiful thing be?” Goat smirked.

“Chill out, alright?” said Matt, gingerly transferring a large stack of paper from Fruity’s hands to his own and placing it by the copier. “I was just going to ask how he’s taking it.”

“Well,” Goat said emphatically. “Do you want the miracle-of-life Demi Moore Vanity Fair edition, or the cold unabridged truth?” His words conjured an image of himself, au naturel and assuming the pose of the actress, which subsequently splintered and fell away like a broken pane of glass.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than the second one from you.” Matt smiled.

“Oh, it’s fuckin’ brutal,” he asserted. “Imagine the most head-splitting zombifying hangover, with none of the fun from the night before.”

Fruity raised his eyebrows. “None?”

“Oooh, rough…” Matt mumbled sympathetically.

“My back hurts all time. Everything’s sweaty. Plus, on top of that, I can’t really see my junk. It makes for a challenge when women’s volleyball is on and I wanna –”

“Alright, alright…” Matt’s laugh cut the description of his plight short. “I think we get the picture.”

“Hey, we’re all guys here!” grinned Fruity, giving an open-palmed shrug.

“I will say, it’s not a total loss,” Goat went on. “I seem to have unlocked a brand-new level of savoring life’s pleasures.”

“Oh, because you had trouble with that before, right?” teased Matt.

“Eh, I don’t know, but this baby must love Ring-Dings and Bud Light.”

“Hey, and at least the ladies eat up this stuff,” Fruity said. “You know, feeling the baby kick and comparing its size to a dill pickle and crap. They must be all over you.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, right on.” Goat looked past him, letting out a sigh. “Is there a bathroom in this place? I gotta take a leak.”

“Yeah, right over by the back wall,” said Matt.

“I won’t keep you,” Fruity added, motioning in the general direction of the door.

So anyway, when it comes to Fruity’s comment re: the “fairer sex” and pregnancy, I would be remiss not to mention the kindred spirit Goat hit it off with, the child’s second parent (seen in my Downtown posts of yesteryear. However, I did change her name for some reason. Friendship ended with “Jackie”, “Kasey” is my best friend now). *clears my throat and shuffles flashcards* There came a point of awareness that despite their similarities, they were at really different life stages (Goat had been doing his own thing for years, but Kasey, a trans woman who was Goat’s age, had been living as herself for a fraction of that and was relishing her freedom) and while Goat initially hadn’t changed his lifestyle a bit to accommodate the pregnancy, she didn’t want to live like him forever and begrudged his seeming lack of trying. Words were exchanged, and the pair went their separate ways. Not to worry – they would soon rekindle, and both put forth effort to be healthier (in Goat’s case, he was mostly propelled by the knowledge of his physical condition; in Kasey’s, she was inspired to show a sort of solidarity with him, plus she would soon be a parent as well, despite not physically being pregnant).  But given their respective issues, neither swayed the other in a positive direction, and they soon reached the disappointing yet amicable conclusion that they were perhaps too alike to remain close. And in the midst of that, they just knew neither of them were cut out to raise children (what were we thinking?) – so wish granted for a lucky adoptive parent(s). But I digress… I wonder if some of this diverted him from regaling Fruity and Matt with salacious tales when given the opportunity.

Also, by the way? Even though Fruity was being facetious in my picture and Goat wouldn’t name his offspring after himself, he and the aforementioned second parent did discover at an ultrasound (the first and only; Goat completely forgot about an appointment scheduled earlier in the pregnancy 😑) that the fetus was male. Goat after he and Kasey exchanged an overwhelmed glance and muttered fragmented agreeable noises upon being asked if they were interested in finding out the baby’s sex today: “Rock on! Built-in apprentice and wingman, here I come…” *medical technician politely chuckling intensifies*

[elizais]

Hello how are you? Have you drunk water today? stay hydrated!!

Anyway, I wanted to ask for chuuya x reader where she has light pink or lilac hair and loves colorful things like different accessories, trinkets in her hair, lively clothes, you know? He always dresses up in a cool but beautiful way, and because of his style he attracts attention

i'm good thank you so much for asking!! i wrote them as headcannons xx

chuuya x reader!! cutesy stuff i lovee this request thank you anon! headcannons !

-to start with, he adores your hair colour! the way it perfectly matches you and how you style it perfectly.

-when he first meets you, he is immediately drawn to the way you look. not in a way that he only cares about your appearance but in the way that it is you and he loves everything about you !

-when you begin to start dating, you don't want him buying you anything expensive like necklaces so he settles for the cutest pieces for you.

-sparkly little barrettes are his go to for you, he once bought a clip with pearls and he thought he broke you when he saw your overjoyed reaction.

-whilst he would never admit it, having orange hair wasn't his favourite thing but having someone as cute as you with bright hair made him incredibly happy.

-he can't even express how much he loves when you tie your hair with a ribbon or a bow, seeing you all happy makes him feel like his heart will explode!!!

-not to mention how he dresses in a very sophisticated way, given the PM members all seem to dress very formally but he just likes dressing that way! but the way you contradict his very proper clothing definitely makes the stubborn man more adventurous.

-maybe you're slowly introducing a light pink dress shirt into his wardrobe..

-when you are introduced to everyone at the PM as his partner romantically, how someone who usually came off as grumpy and had a very dark sense of clothing was with you definitely felt like a yin and yang type of dynamic.

-also idk why but when i read the bit about hair colour i had to think about the motorcycle!! he probably used to make the argument that "it's definitely red, [name]." but now he is willing to say its pinky red if that makes you happy.

-maybe like when you come home and see him half asleep, sat on the couch after a stressful day at work he would let you play with his hair.

"[name]?" chuuya asked when his mind registered his hair was being brushed as he was half asleep. his eyes still closed. "yesss?" you asked. "what are you doing?" he grumbled. "dressing up your hair" he could hear the smile in your voice, whilst this was not his preferred activity if he could sleep as you done it he was more than happy. chuuya responded with a hum before falling into a light sleep. his hair was decorated with barrettes, bows, small flower clips, and a braid on one side with pins in it. proud of your creation, you stood up and took a photo of your lover with his new hairdo. he wouldn't be able to keep it in forever but kept them in until it was time for actually going to bed. the next day he turns on your phone to check the time on your lock screen to be met with the photo of him.

[jeonqkooks]

isn't it romantic? | myg (prologue)

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents. 

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut; crying, central themes of cheating, that's pretty much it for the prologue

word count: 777

note: the yoongi brainrot is real y'all. he's really wreaking havoc on my life and forcing me to drop everything to focus on him when i have no much other shit to write 😩 but anyhow, this is exciting !! my first yoongi fic aaaa !! please show her some love y'all cuz this may or may not be a deeply personal story to me 💕 i wanted to say more but i forgot just as i sat down to write this a/n lmao. ANYWAY, massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @luaspersona for beta'ing this for me on such short notice (and jo for telling that there's stuff in here that i should go to jail for bc that's always the best thing to hear 😌) y'all are awesome and i love you <3 and @jeonwiixard for being hurt by this 😚

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

You are 7, and life is good, as life should be for all children.

You have two parents who adore you, and a sister with whom you constantly bicker but that’s okay, because it’s how siblings love each other. You have constellations hanging from your bedroom ceiling, someone to read your bedtime stories every night, hot meals on the table every day. Every summer, your family takes a trip somewhere beautiful and a week feels like forever when it's just the four of you together, surrounded with only warmth and laughter. You don’t know any other way to live life.

Love is abundant, because that’s what love is supposed to be.

You are 7, and you don’t know how to accept that everything can be different in just a blink of an eye.

When your father comes back from a business trip, the first thing you do is dig through his bag in search of his phone, to look for that video game that you don’t understand but love playing so much. What you find instead, is a picture he took with a strange woman, on a beach somewhere, wearing straw hats and tacky shirts and bright smiles. You show it to your mother, and life forever changes.

Children can be nosy sometimes. It’s inherent to being kids.

You don't know what it means. It's just a picture. You just want your game.

You are 7, and how is a child supposed to react when their world is turned upside down?

No one reads you bedtime stories anymore. Your mother rarely goes out of her room. Your sister has to grow into an adult when she herself is still a teenager, to take care of you, to make sure that you’re fed and clothed and have all of your books when you go to school.

You don’t know that people can be sad even as they’re smiling and laughing. People can be sad even as they’re telling you that they aren’t, and that everything is just fine. People can be sad even when they’re happy.

Your mother doesn’t have that same light in her anymore. You can’t tell if she’s just tired, or if there’s something else bothering her, a secret gnawing at the back of her mind that she doesn’t let you in on.

Answers to simple questions like “When is dad coming home?” used to be “In an hour,” or “He’ll be back to read to you before bed.” Now, she answers you with tears in her eyes before she turns away, and you have yet to discover that words have the power to hurt, and hearts are things that can break even when they're healthy and beating.

Your sister learns to be more careful with her words because she knows things that you don’t, things that you’re too young to understand. She knows of burdens that you have yet to bear but will inevitably have to.

You are 7, and your parents aren’t holding up the sky anymore. Occasional late nights at the office turned into a constant absence at the dinner table. Laughter has since dulled into taut silence that never relents, only stretches on and on and on, until it forces you to adapt to the absence of joy in your home.

If someone were to ask you what envy was, you wouldn’t be able to tell them the definition, but you can describe to them what it’s like. It’s a foreign concept, yet so familiar at the same time. Before, you used to feel envious when you see another kid holding a cooler toy or wearing a prettier dress. Now, you’re envious when the other children at school have parents waiting to take them home after a long day. You don’t want your sister to be the only one who shows up. You want love to be abundant again.

You are 7, and you haven’t yet learned how to hold back tears. You miss your father because he rarely comes home anymore. When he does, your parents would argue. Yell at each other. Sob until screams turn into hiccups. Slam doors. You cry because the house feels like it’s going to collapse. 

You still remember the picture on your dad’s phone, or at least, you remember the color of the water. It was blue, like the color of the sky on a beautiful sunny day. Blue, like the cover of your favorite fairy tale, splattered with golden sparkles. Blue, like the walls of your parents’ bedroom. Blue, like the feeling that no child should experience. Blue, because that’s all you have to remember your stolen childhood by.

You are 7.

— all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.04.2023]

[beauleifu]

Can you write full angst, with a bittersweet ending or almost no comfort ? If so, I would love a one shot with LBD, Mayor (In his war chief era), Macaque or any characters who you seem inspired to write for. A one shot that has a major argument between the s/o and the character, for only the reader to leave their lover behind after hearing hurtful words? At first the character doesn’t mind, but when they need their s/o helps weeks after, they refuse, telling the character they wish they’d never met. I’m sorry this is detailed lmao its alright if it’s too much

Ahhh yes, good old angst. I got you dearly anon, Macaque is gonna suffer big time in this here oneshot. Macaque, I apologize for any trauma this scenario might induce, I was held at gunpoint (JKJK ILY). We going full angst, my bois.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MACAQUE X READER PT 1

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: You're done. The King's Shadow has chosen, and he didn't choose you. Again, and again. It pains you deeply to accept the things he's told you; you loved him too much. You didn't care about anything he did to you. But the tide always changes, and you won't return this time.

CW: Language, breaking up, physical abuse (just pushing and hitting each other, not very often), hurtful words

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"Oh. There you are."

Macaque doesn't turn at the sound of your voice.

He sits at the edge of a cliff overseeing a beautiful landscape. Mountains, rivers, the city of Megapolis further down. He's got one leg hanging over the cliff's edge and the other bent so he can prop an elbow on it. He hadn't moved from that spot for hours; it was a wonder you found him.

But he doesn't care for your visit.

"(Y/N)," he growls softly.

No response. The monkey was hoping you'd just ask if he's all right, he'd tell you he's fine, and you'd walk off. Not something you'd usually do, but here's hoping.

"Didn't I tell you I wanted to be alone," he continues, not caring to hide his frustration.

Your footsteps edge closer, voice soft. "I was worried about you."

He sneers to himself, eyes on the city. Claws curling into fists, the dark monkey imagines his significant other, the yin to his yang, out saving the world with the Monkie Kid.

Sun Wukong.

Even the thought seems to taste terrible.

"What are you thinking about?" His lover pipes up.

Even though you'd spoken it innocently and warmly, Macaque feels attacked. Like you want to weed out the answer and crush him with it.

"Nothing."

He hears your soft exhale. A sigh worthy of a thousand apologies, but he feels no guilt. He just wants to be alone.

To plan his next move.

But you decide to sit down next to him, kicking your feet out beyond the cliff's edge. It's slightly uncomfortable that he feels no fear at the thought of you slipping and falling off - he doesn't even spare you a glance. All he can think about is his next offensive maneuver. One that will surely make Monkey King feel the same pain he inflicted on Macaque. Then, the lord of the shadows will finally be at peace.

Maybe.

Your breathing suddenly fills his ears. He doesn't like it.

"(Y/N)? What are you . . . doing, here," he grunts, finally gracing you with a piercing look. "Can't you see I need some time?"

You blink, features once something that filled him with butterflies. Once, you were a lovely distraction from his kingly obsession, but now, he just finds you rather . . . annoying.

"Mac, if you're suffering . . . maybe I can help."

"Tch. I don't need your help."

Another sigh from you, and it makes Macaque scoff at your pettiness of it. Your eyes slide to the scenery, a soft frown on your face. "You just seem so miserable. If you're in pain, or if there's someone out there-"

Macaque glances sideways, and you reconsider. "There is, then. MK? Some old nemesis? The Monkey King?"

He stiffens reflexively at the name, eyes sharp.

You smile sadly. "So it's true, then."

"Oh?" A harsh laugh, yet his glare shackles you to the ground. "What's true?"

He's impatient for your reply, but you merely keep your gaze on the city below, watching the sun set a little ways beyond. At first, your demeanor was calm and collected, but Macaque noticed the way your hands clenched, the way your body was stiff and your breath was a forced calm.

Something is wrong.

"You're different, Macaque," you murmur, voice tight. "You don't smile anymore, you don't take me out to dinner. You refuse anytime I try.

"Now I realize . . . it's that Sun Wukong," you spit bitterly.

Macaque decides to stand up, finally done with your bullshit. He, pushing you away in favor of his nemesis? How dare you even accuse him of such a thing!

But you're suddenly on your feet, blocking his path. "He's ruining you! He's ruining us."

"You're wrong," Macaque snarls, lip curling.

He watches you look away, frown deep and fists curled.

He's smirking, suddenly. "Oh, darling. Are you jealous?" A mean laugh. "Don't be. He's way out of your league."

It's the final straw.

"Out of my league?!" You snap, launching forward and shoving him backwards. Your eyes are lit up with a fire Mac's never seen before. Like pain and anger, mixed into one burning flower of pent-up emotions. You don't relent, stalking forward. "How is that fair?! It's been days, Macaque, days! Since you've smiled at me. Since you've even been in the same fucking room for two minutes! You're always out there, always stalking and plotting and now I know why! You're obsessed! Fucking obsessed!"

Oh. Ho.

Now we're getting to the center of your rage. Macaque's cockiness vanishes, fists curling as he stands his ground. "You're wrong!"

"Lie to yourself all you want, Macaque, but you can't lie to me."

Your harsh words tear at something within Macaque, making him reach out as you turn away to grab your arm, preventing your leave. But his grip is anything but gentle, and you wince.

"You think I'm obsessed? Might I remind you that you're the one obsessing over me. How daft can you get? You'll only get yourself killed pulling a crap stunt like that, (Y/N). I'm only looking out for you and your sorry ass," Macaque finishes in one breath, tone lowered to reflect his frustration.

You're quick to rebut. "Is it so wrong to care about you? To wonder if you value something over me?"

"Is it wrong to value myself over you?"

"Of course not! I feel the same way!" You flash, trying to wrench your arm from him. It's hopeless, and you can see bruises in the future. "Your significant other should be your second, or even your third! But you act like Sun Wukong comes before all else. Before me."

"I don't!" Macaque spits.

He does.

He does.

He does.

Say it.

"Then why do you care about him so much?!"

He pulls you closer, breath hot on your face. He's pissed, remarkably so, at your accusations. He doesn't even notice when you gasp in pain when he grips your arm tighter.

"Shut the fuck up. You know nothing about me."

Sadness reflects in the cold sheen of your withering gaze.

He'd hit a sore spot.

"You're right, I don't," you grit out; "You never open up to me. Do you know how hard that is? To love someone without even knowing who they are??"

"Don't act like you're the victim here. You never tried."

A scoff is your reply. "I did try, Mac. But you never reciprocated."

Unjust.

He did, for a little while.

Say it.

SAY IT.

He laughs harshly. "Oh-ho, that's a little ungrateful of you, considering I took care of you and wasted my time to entertain your dull little human needs. You're just holding me back! You never let me take care of my problems, take care of the Monkey King! Had you let me, maybe we wouldn't be here!"

Your jaw drops at the accusation.

"Well if the Monkey King is sooo important to you, why do you burden yourself with me?"

Say it.

SAY IT, COWARD.

"YOU WERE A DISTRACTION!" Macaque blurts, eyes scorching through your own, which widen in shock.

In one quick movement, you wrestle your arm out of his grip.

"What?"

Macaque flashes you a wicked, rage-filled grin, the truth spilling from his lips like wine from a bottle. Poisoned wine. "You were a fucking distraction. Sun Wukong, golden savior who ruined my life, was all I could think about. I wanted - no, I needed - my revenge. But it was so fucking pointless and all I was hitting were dead ends-"

He pauses for a brief moment. "But then I met you."

He looks at you.

The human who'd fallen in love with him. Oh, how awful. "But then I met you," Macaque repeats, venom and spite lacing his tone.

A flinch is your only reaction.

"You helped me forget about my mission, if only for a brief while," the shadow lord continues, lip curling at you as he admits the truth. He is obsessed. A wicked chuckle rumbles in his throat. "But of course, nothing lasts forever."

The monkey stalks towards you, placing a hand on your chest.

You're suddenly shoved backwards, landing on your rear. Macaque towers over you as he speaks. "You failed me, (Y/N). You're the one at fault. Can't even do your job right."

"Love isn't a job!" You snap, but your voice trembles.

Macaque cares not.

"Love?"

He throws his head back, emitting a loud, harsh laugh that makes you inhale sharply. Then, he's looking at you, smugly pitying. "Oh, (Y/N). I never loved you. How could I? You're a human, a mortal, the Monkey King and I are destined to live for much longer than you."

His foolish lover bites their lip, tears welling in their eyes.

You shakily stand up. "I-I knew it. You're obsessed. Obsessed with someone you don't even want in your life anymore."

"I want him in my life to destroy him!" Mac roars.

Tears fly from your eyes as you whip your head up to glare at him, voice breaking. "And you're ignoring me in the process! You don't even trust me! The one person who actually fucking cares about you, who wants to see you smile and move on from that monkey bastard - but NO! You always choose him! To stew away in your own emotions and ignore me!"

"I never-"

Macaque's retort is cut off as you lash out with your hand. A sharp, painful slap echoes in the wind as your hand collides with Macaque's cheek.

He stumbles back, cupping the area with one hand.

Wide eyes stare at you. Glaring.

Your expression is contorted, cheeks wet and teeth gritted. Scorching eyes sear through the monkey's own, knowing that he'll never change.

That you were just a distraction.

"You did!" You gasp, choking on sobs. A hand is raised to deliver another smack, but when seeing Macaque's lip curl, you hesitate. "You ignored that I love you. What . . . how could you do that to me? Don't I mean anything to you?"

Macaque takes deep breaths in, forcing them out.

Slowly, his claws dig into his palm.

The scenery is no longer beautiful, no longer offering him a solitary place to think. You ruined it for him, just like you ruin everything. And, well.

That's what you do best.

Straightening, Macaque regards you coldly. "No. You're nothing to me, (Y/N). I don't need people who fail me."

You stiffen, eyes going wide with dismay.

The monkey stalks forward wordlessly. Step by step, his silent assault tearing your wall down. Yes, you know what he's capable of. Macaque relishes in your brief moment of fear.

Then, he stops in front of you, gaze contemptuous.

The human in front of him is a stranger.

He doesn't know you.

In one, sharp movement, he lashes you with the back of his paw, the force of it sending you stumbling back with a gasp of pain and shock. One of your hands flies north to cup the area, already red and raw. Your choked words go unheard by Macaque, who closes the distance, baring his fangs.

He feels no remorse, no guilt, for what he'd just done. It's justice, an eye for an eye.

"I'm sorry."

Macaque stops at your words, frowning with disinterest.

Those two words, laced with pain and white-hot anger echo in his ears. You don't bother to look at him when you take another deep breath, still on the ground.

"We're done, Mac."

He blinks.

Something in his chest gives rise to panic, yet he tamps it down. He glares, gesturing around. "You think I care? You don't think that's what I want? Good!"

You finally regard him sadly. "Fine. Goodbye, then."

"Fine," he hisses.

Shadows begin to morph underneath him.

He pauses, if not to capture this moment into his memory, to seal your expression of utter misery and pain into his mind. Of the true dismay behind your icy glare. He feels nothing, does nothing to ease the situation.

With that, he descends into the shadows.

~~~

Months.

It's been months since his grave, terrible mistake.

He lays awake in bed, bloodshot eyes glued to the ceiling. His tail twitches with anxiety and frustration.

Macaque replays the scene over and over, contemplating the various emotions he feels regarding it. And now that he's been burdened with a problem and needs your help, you're not around. And people never notice what they have until they lose it.

He lost you.

He wants you back.

God, did he really say you were a distraction? When really, you were his savior, up until his obsession took over again . . . Damnit, he has a stupid way of wording things. He really does did love you, to the point where it hurts.

But it's the middle of the night.

He can't just call you . . .

He has your number.

A paw instinctively goes to his phone, the one that you'd given him to help get accustomed to city life. Now that he thinks about it, you really did help him.

Slowly, he takes it out, anxiety tearing through him.

"You're nothing."

"Love? I never loved you."

His words echo in his mind, ghosts of the guilt rippling through his heart. His eyes narrow in frustration.

"They'll help me," he tells himself, huffing. "They're probably desperate to get back with me."

His ego thoroughly boosted, he dials your number and waits.

And waits . . .

Waits . . .

Beads of sweat form on his forehead. What if you-

Beep.

"Hello?" Your groggy voice fills his ears, and his poor little heart jumps with surprise. Stars, he didn't realize how much he missed hearing you until now. The brewing conversation afoot has his throat drying up, jaws opening and closing wordlessly.

But you're patient.

"(Y/N)?" Macaque attempts, tone nervous yet trying. "Um . . . hi. It's Macaque."

Your voice cracks over the phone. "Yeah. I recognized your number."

How awkward.

Tail tying in knots, Macaque clenches his paw around nothing and clears his throat. "Look. I-I know it's late. I know . . . you probably hate me-"

"I don't hate you," you say monotonously.

Words cutting short, Macaque blinks and sits up. "You don't??"

"No. I don't think I could ever hate you," you say, voice quieter the more you speak. Like the moonlight dancing off Macaque's bed, becoming fainter and fainter as it descends across the night sky. "Why did you call, Macaque?"

His name. It sounds so sweet on your tongue. But his own is dried and tied up. "I-I . . . I mean . . . I wanted to-to apologize."

Your voice is but a whisper. "What for?"

"For- for the things I said, last time we talked," Macaque says, stumbling blindly over words that seem to come naturally. Panic seeps into his chest. "I-I didn't mean them. You know I didn't. And I'm saying this now because it took me months to realize how much I need you, especially right now, I've got a-"

"Problem? You handle things alone, though," you say cooly.

Macaque winces at the inclination. "(Y/N) . . ."

"You're sorry?"

"Yes. Truly. Terribly. I admit it. Please, I want you back, I'd like to start over, try again," Mac whispers frantically. "Please give me another change."

A beat.

"You broke my heart."

Those four simple words chink away at Macaque's mental armor. He broke your heart.

"(Y/N)-"

"'You're nothing to me, (Y/N). I don't need people who fail me'," you quote, tone sad yet cutting. A deep, shuddering breath, as though you're reliving the pain those words put your through. His words. "Do you remember that? I do. I may not hate you, but I won't ever forgive you, nor forget the things you said to me."

Macaque inhales sharply, paws trembling with guilt.

"Yes, and I'm sorry, but if we can just-"

"No. I'm sorry." A sad smile seems to carry through the phone, tearing Macaque apart. "But it's for the best that we don't talk again. I hope you get what you want this time, without me there to hold you back."

Panic.

Macaque reaches out, as though to grasp what still remains of your love for him. But you're not here.

"Wait! Please. I-I'd turn back time if I could-"

"I wouldn't."

The monkey chokes on his words, eyes wide with fear. "What?"

"I'm glad you said those things," you say quietly, your voice soft and yet cold, hard blocks crush Macaque's heart and soul. "You showed me your heart that night. The real you, and the real you never loved me. You hate Sun Wukong too much for that. So really, I should be thanking you, Mac. For opening my eyes. Leaving you was the best thing you could've done for me," you finish, voice but a whisper.

Macaque's vision blurs. "(Y/N), don't-"

"Goodbye."

You pause, considering your last words carefully. ". . . Forever."

Beep.

The phone slips from his trembling hands.

You're gone. You're gone.

What has he done?

[mars101]

Act 5: -> Scene 2: Lee Juyeon

WRITTEN PART -> (0.8) -> no ss after text

july 6th, 2002

guess who i saw while at the beach.. A REALLY CUTE BOY!!! hehe, this time, he was the one who approached me first.

normally i’m not one to follow cute guys on the first day but… he was too cute to pass up, he said he was going to sail to this little island of the coast of the beach and, i’m looking for adventure aren't i? so i went with him.

turns out he owns a boat, bought it with his own money after saving up. he said it's his life goal to sail everywhere, and he wants to write something dedicated to his travels. :)) SO DREAMY!!!

and such a romantic too, while the boat was steadily heading torwards the island he played a bit of music and we danced together. big sigh, ahhhh

with this cutie, sadly, it's obviously going to be a one-time thing. might as well make this worth our time ;)

July 16th, One day before Yin's Wedding.

After leaving Hyunjae with a jaw-dropping sentence, Yin decides to talk to the only other person available to talk on the boat.

“Hiya Yin! You enjoying yourself? Come here, I'll let you steer the boat”

“omg really!! when i was younger, i loved boats. i used to tag along with the local sailors with my friends”

Juyeon chuckles at Yin as she eagerly goes to grab a hold of the wheel. He softly showed her what to do with controls and when to turn as they start to circle the island.

“oh wait, can i ask you a question?”

“Hmm sure, what's your question, Yin?”

“how did you meet my mom? i just asked hyunjae and now i'm curious so i'll ask you and younghoon too. once he wakes up of course”

The male smiles warmly at Yin, “Let's see, I met your mother when I was nineteen, so around twenty years ago. I saw her on the beach and thought she was pretty, so I approached her, and the rest is history.”

“is that it? come on, juyeon, where are the details!”

“Details? I don't know if you want to hear about everything, though..”

“wait ewww, i don't mean including that”

“Including what??- Oh gosh, of course I wouldn't talk about that kind of stuff.. You're young enough to be my daughter, you know.”

yin freezes up a bit at his sentence but juyeon doesn't notice and continues talking.

“Okay, anyways, I'll start from the beginning for you. We were on the mainland and I was by the docks with this very boat, when I looked over at the beach I saw Y/n or uh- uhm sorry, your mother and I immediately found her attractive.”

“I did the most logical thing to me at the time and approached her. We talked for a bit, learned each others names and where we're from, and then I figured out that she's also traveling. And also later that day I was thinking about sailing to this very island and I decided to invite her”

“wait.. you brought my mom here?”

He nods, “Yes I did, I was surprised she said yes to coming to this island. I was also surprised at how brave I was when I asked her. In the past, I usually wasn't like that, but something about your mother just pulled me in.”

“awe.. it seemed like you really liked my mom..”

“Of course, maybe a little bit more than like though. I consider her as my first love.. I still have a picture of her in my wallet.” He takes his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out a polaroid of Y/n and him, the latter with his arm around her shoulders as she kisses him on the cheek.

Juyeon softly looks at Yin and brings his hand up to ruffle her hair. “Your mother was a wonderful person, I came here to see her again.. She's still as beautiful as ever. And it looks like she raised a daughter as wonderful as her.”

“do you.. still like my mom?”

“Oh no! Of course not.. I hope not.”

july 10th, 2002

sigh.. it's time sadly.. :(

another day, another man to miss. my juyeon is going off to continue traveling. he did offer me a ride back to the mainland, but i decided to stay on the island a bit longer. after all, it's so beautiful here, and the people here were so nice.

remember the hotel and cafe that i wrote about here yesterday, turns out juyeon’s aunt owns it. she said that i could stay as long as i'd like. hehe, maybe i'll stay here forever.

shout out to yin, she's the nicest person i met here. free place to stay and free food, i dont know how to repay her though..

i'll figure it out eventually. for now, i got to say goodbye to juyeon..

dear travel diary, i am living my best life right now.

synopsis = a day before her wedding day, Yin decides to find her father so he can walk her down the isle, the problem? There's three candidates: Lee Juyeon, Kim Younghoon, and Lee Hyunjae.

last/next

masterlist

taglist:

@boomhoon , @sanasour , @loonaluvz , @jaerisdiction , @cowsmicwu , @jundundun , @piripurora

[llycaons]

ep19 (part 1) : you know it's bad when you see a torture scene and you're like 'oh yeah this is the least painful thing to happen to him in three episodes and it'll only get worse after this'

on my first watch I remember being like 'oh god she looks like shit', honestly he's a little tired looking and he's got a far-away look in his eyes that points to some extreme inner distress or distracting pain and he coughs very weakly but. yeah no he looks pretty bad

what we all assumed was hunger but was. you know

unintentionally (?) funniest shots in the episode. wzl might actually know about wwx's core at this point - I assume he can sense them. I can think of no other reason for him to look at his hand like that

scream. with context...well we know why. and wwx likely hasn't slept either

of all the additions to the story cql made, this is by far one of the most powerful and memorable. it's such a beautiful scene and imo it points to what jc deep down wanted more than anything. happy family. everyone getting along. his some safe. wwx is there, and I know there's a lot of debate over whether jc sees his as a brother but it's hard to argue he didn't see him as par of that family in some way, regardless of how he treated him

this scene wasn't in the novel unless im really misremembering, but it's much easier to believe that jc viewed wwx differently there compared to here

his mother welcoming him! smiling! being kind and affectionate to his siblings!

his father interacting with him willingly! playing with him! believing in him! such simple things, and so out of reach for jc, once hard to imagine him attaining and now impossible

he knows to thank bssr but I don't think he'll ever thank wwx :/

RUDE BITCH

he's tired so I can forgive that his comeback to 'you're a dog' is 'NO YOU'

why are you like this. maniac

here he is! wwx is defined by his low birth status and his unstable relationship with the aristocracy. they can cast him out at any time, and do so once it's clear he will act against them. there is treatment and slander he endures that a highborn individual would never face even if they did the exact same things that he did. but wwx is scrappy. he uses everything he has to his advantage. he even weaponizes his lack of privilege.

wjl are you stupid. like. love this woman, she's very funny, but seriously. you work with cultivators

oof oof ouch. this is a rough scene and it's the least bad thing to happen to wwx from his enemies (or allies) in a while. after watching his home be destroyed, seeing myu blame him for everything then died with jfm, LP overtaken and disrespected, needing to get jc back, staying awake for days researching, then lying awake for two days and a night undergoing surgery, and AFTER this getting thrown into a pit of corpses where you're expected to lose your soul to endless torment....well. this is bad but relatively bearable

anyway ohh yin iron is reacting to his blood

I love when side characters deliver exposition loudly and obviously. very convenient for our protags

JC SAW THEM. SCREAM. I don't think he could have done anything esp since he doesn't have his sword but he SAW them. isn't that wild

if he was just a few hours earlier...well, wwx would still die, wouldn't he? being thrown into the burial mounds was horrifically traumatizing but it did facilitate his career in necromancy and he wouldn't have been resurrected without his own writings on the topic. and this is a very shitty situation for him to imagine an plot divergence

that being said this is one of the most horrific things that can happen to a person in like. any piece of media. this man has suffered so much bizarre and specific trauma

DON'T TOUCH HIM

DON'T CALL HIM THAT

SCREAM

shut up wen chao you're not the one binding him there

the smoke catching him, making his descent somewhat gentler. it can sense what's happening

in the book I think it's canon that he breaks several bones in the fall. or maybe that was in a fanfic I read. I like it more when it breaks his bones honestly bc it adds to the rawness and realism of the scene tho I am not complaining cql wwx has it a little better

and if that's not enough, wen ning has also been tortured! and wq in imprisoned!

[upindreamland]

Fan Speculation - Jack Avery

Jack Avery x fem!reader (she/her pronouns) oneshot

Summary: Fans are amazing detectives which could be good, unless you’re trying to keep a relationship a secret. Fans start speculating if Jack and you are dating… guess you’ll have to read to find out if it’s true or not (fluff)

Warning: Cringey and not good writing. This is a repost from my Instagram. Some raunchy details. Overall fluffy

Y/S/N: Your Ship Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

AN: Please enjoy reading. Once you’re done come and talk to me. or Like, comments, reblogs, or feeback is appreciated.

————————————————————

Y/N'S POV

I was making breakfast for my boyfriend and his band mates. Corbyn, Daniel, Jonah, and Zach all came over to spend the night at the house me and Jack live in. Their claim was that they could work on songwriting together, but I know they secretly missed me and my cooking.

Putting the quiche in the oven, I look over at the clock. It reads 10:37 a.m. I can’t believe I have been in the kitchen for over three hours. Knowing that the boys are still asleep, I go out the back door to look at the view. I pull out my phone and scroll through Instagram. I quickly take and post a selfie since I haven’t in a while, fearing what management would say to me. After editing it and adding the caption “ily” I lock my phone and listen to the birds chirp.

Hearing the back door open, I turn to see who it is. It’s none other than my handsome boyfriend of three years, Jack.

“Good morning beautiful.” he says in his raspy morning voice.

Smiling, I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Good morning babe.” I mumble before kissing him.

Kissing Jack has always been one of my favorite things to do. It’s so simple, yet so sophisticated. We are able to put so much emotion into our kisses that-

My thoughts completely come to a halt when Jack pulls back. Geez, that was embarrassing. Good thing Jack can’t read my mind (I hope).

“I made a quiche for breakfast. It’s pretty much done, I just have to take it out of the oven. Let’s go in, so we can eat while we wait for the boys.” I suggest.

“Really! Oh my gosh. I love your quiches almost as much as I love you.” He says as he runs to go back inside. Laughing I follow after him enjoying this moment of peace I got to have with him.

*after everyone wakes up and eats breakfast*

“Geez Y/N/N, your food is delicious.” Corbyn says after finishing his third piece of quiche.

All of the other guys mumble an agreement.

“I would marry you right now, if that meant I get to eat your food all the time!” Zach exclaims.

Rolling his eyes, Jack lets out a puff of air before saying, “No you won’t you idiot. I will marry her and then we are going to have some mind blowing sex before having kids and then-”

“Wow. We do not need to know that. Please keep that to yourself.” Daniel interrupts.

“Sorry.” Jack mumbles while blushing.

“Anyways, Y/N did you see all of the comments on your recent Instagram post?” Jonah asks me quickly to change the subject.

“No I haven’t. Why? Should I?” I ask, already pulling out my phone.

—————

Instagram comments:

jack_yn_lover: I wonder who you love? Is it, oh I don't know, someone named Jack? 🤷‍♀️

↳ _limelight_fan: jack_yn_lover That's what I was thinking. Did you see what Kyla posted on Twitter? I feel like that can't be a coincidence.

↳ jack_yn_lover: _limelight_fan Yeah I did. I'm really hoping that it means something because they are really cute together.

↳ fan_1: _limelight_fan What's Kayla's Twitter? I want to see what she's talking about

↳ fan_2: fan_1 it's ILOVEJACK. there's other proof on her page as well.

↳ fan_1: fan_2 alright thank you I will go check her out.

username: You are so pretty. Please drop your hair routine 😍

lover_yn: Where is your shirt from? It’s so pretty.

username_2: I came here from Twitter to make sure it was real and it is. Can you guys announce Y/S/N yet. We are dying!!!

ILOVEJACK: YIN, Jack, Boys, anyone, all you have to do is say yes or no. It's that easy. Please do it for us!

↳ username_2: ILOVEJACK I have to agree with you. Those earrings do look really similar

—————

“What’s the Twitter post they’re all talking about?” Jack asks me looking over my shoulder at my phone.

“I don’t know. I was just about to check.” I reply with a little bit of nervousness. I really don’t want it to be anything bad. Jack and I have been really good at making sure people don’t find out about us. It’s not because I’m scared of fans reactions more so management’s reaction to these tweets. They have been making us keep our relationship a secret for these last 3 years. After a lot of begging we were able to convince them to let us announce our relationship on our anniversary which is a couple of days away. It was getting hard to keep our relationship a secret.

Opening up Twitter, I type in the girls username.

“Oh my gosh! What did I do…..” I mumble under my breath.

“What do you mean babe?” Jack asks with concern.

“They’re all finding things that add up to us dating. I’m so sorry. I know we are waiting for our four year anniversary to announce it.” I sadly tell him.

“Y/N, it’s alright. Let me see the tweets please. Besides, our anniversary is in a couple of days. We can stick to our plan and completely surprise them. Everything is fine.” He reassured me.

“Yeah it’s going to be fine Y/N/N.” The boys reassure me.

Jonah seeing the panic in my eyes, knows exactly what I’m thinking. Being the big brother figure he is to me he says, “Y/N, management won’t be mad at you. If anything I think this fan speculation is helping both of your careers which they want. I can call them for you and ask what you should do. For now, just show Jack and the boys the tweets. I’ll be back.”

He walks outside to call management, I turn back to my phone and show the boys the most obvious tweets.

(Tweets)

*after showing the boys the tweets and Jonah comes back*

Jack’s POV

Jonah just told me, Y/N, and the rest of the boys what management said. He said that it was alright for us to continue with the original plan as long as we kept quiet for the time being. When I look over at Y/N, I can tell she needs a distraction from all of this. Walking over to her, I put my arms around her neck from behind.

“Y/N let’s go somewhere. I can see you need to relax. There’s nothing to be worried about babe.” I tell her.

Feeling her exhale and turn around to see me, I can tell what she’s thinking. She has that sparkle in her eyes.

“Can we cuddle-”

“-While watching rom-coms and eating whatever we want. Yes, yes we can.” I finish for her

Seeing the smile that instantly forms on her face, I can’t help but chuckle. It always warms my heart that after all of these years together, I still manage to fall deeper into love with her. I guess that’s just Y/N for you.

Getting up, we say goodbye to the boys. They tell us that they’re going to head back to their own homes soon. Nodding me and Y/N head to our shared room.

Once the boys left, and me and Y/N had everything we needed, we started our rom-com marathon.

We were watching in comfortable silence until I had an idea that might help Y/N calm down. Speaking up, I say,

“Hey babe do you want to plan what photos of us we should post? Ohh, and what our Instagram captions should be?” I asked excitedly.

“Hmm, I didn’t think of that. Let’s plan that right now. But…..”

“Oh my gosh there’s a but.” I mumble, laughing slightly scared of what her mind is coming up with.

“Hey! You didn’t even hear it yet. Okay, starting over. But… can I have a kiss first.”

“Geez. You didn’t have to scare me like that. And yes you can.” I reply.

Leaning in, both of our lips meet. Pulling away after a couple of seconds, a smile forms on my face when I see the pout my girlfriend has on her face.

“What’s that pout for?”

“Because it wasn’t long enough. I need more of your kisses or else I’m going to die. Do you want me to die?” She complains like a child.

“After, once we finish planning our announcement you can have all of the kisses in the world. Okay?” I respond in the same tone she had.

"Okay!” She says enthusiastically.

*the day of Jack and Y/N’s anniversary*

Y/N’s POV

Okay today’s the day. The day me and Jack officially announce our relationship to the whole world. I’m not as nervous as before (thanks to Jack's idea), but there still is that little part of me that is. So many what-if questions run through my head when it comes closer to posting time. I just want people to accept our relationship (even though they already do and we haven’t even said anything). The thing that calms me down is the fact that I love Jack and he loves me. We were able to make it four years without other people’s approval.

“Okay babe. Ready to announce our love for each other to the world.” Jack asks me.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Instagram

yourinstagram

Liked by jonahmarais, corbynbesson, jackaverymusic, imzachherron, seaveydaniel, jack_yn_lover, and 95,786 others

yourinstagram: Everyone…this is my boyfriend. I love him very much. He is really hot. jackaverymusic You stole my heart...

tagged: jackaverymusic

view all comments

jackaverymusic: I love you too baby. You mean the absolute world to me. I'm glad everyone knows now.

jack_yn_lover: AHHHHHH!!!!!!!! Fuck yes. Give me a moment. I think I'm going to die. I- can't do this

jonahmarais: Oh my gosh yes it's my favorite ship. I'm so proud of you lil sis. This means I can post all of the funny content I have of you two! 🥳 ❤️

↳ yourinstagram: jonahmarais you'll have to run that by me first. I'm scared of what you will post of us....

imzachherron: You... you stole my boyfriend. Jack you were supposed to be mine 😭😭 JK. I love your both so much. You're my favorite couple.

ILOVEJACK: Yesss!!! I'm so happy for you both. You both were made for each other. I - I can't process this. I'm too happy

corbynbesson: Congrats you two!! I'm so happy for you both.

seaveydaniel: Hope you both had a great day!!

load more comments

jackaverymusic

Liked by yourinstagram, corbynbesson, jonamarais, imzachherron, seaveydaniel, ILOVEJACK, and 95,786 others

jackaverymusic: Happy anniversary my love. I can't believe you have been by my side for four years now. I love you. yourinstagram ...but I'll let you keep it.

tagged: yourinstagram

view all comments

yourinstagram: Happy anniversary! I love you so much. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

ILOVEJACK: AWWWW you guys are so cute. I'll be sleeping on the highway tonight.

jonahmarais: MY SHIP POSTED!!! ALERT ALERT

imzachherron: this is making me cry. I can't wait to see you guys grow old together. OHH and can I be the best man at your wedding? (when it happens of course)

↳ seaveydaniel: imzachherron no it's going to be me...please jackaverymusic can it be me

corbynbesson: photo creds... also I can't believe this was taken four years ago. You were both such babies

seaveydaniel: I love the matching captions!!!! "You stole my heart but I'll let you keep it" is so cute

↳ jackaverymusic: seaveydaniel I'm glad you noticed. What do you think of it being a new lyric idea 😏

load more comments

(End of Instagram)

“Well I guess that puts an end to all of the fan speculation.” Jack says once we posted.

“Yeah it does. I love you Jack.” I say

“I love you Y/N. Thanks for making today special. I wouldn’t be who I am without you. You know I’m going to marry you one day.”

“Of course. Now enough of the cheesy stuff and kiss me.”

Doing just that we express all of our love for each other in that kiss. It was perfect. During the kiss, I realized that life is amazing with Jack in it. He makes me feel complete, he's all I'll ever need.

I couldn’t help but think “Gosh. I love you Jack so much” hoping that if he could read my mind, it would be now.

————————————————————

AN: The end! I honestly didn’t know how to end it so that’s as good as it’s going to get. Hope you enjoyed reading.

-Kara (upindreamland)

[willkimurashat]

First Impressions Don’t Have to Decide Everything, Right?

Hello my friends! So, since we were robbed of the “meeting the parents” scene in this season, I kept thinking about how it would play out. This is a Will x MC fic and it’s got about 4k words (it's safe for work, so no worries;)

We all know Will’s got a very strong bond with their family and their parents have a great relationship, but what if MC’s parents aren’t a symbol of a perfection? What do they think about you being with Will? (lowkey basing it on how I think my own parents would react lol)

Also, just a note, this is, like, the first completed creative writing thing I did ever! I’m a counseling grad student, so I don’t get to write anything of the sort haha! So I hope it’s alright, but feel free to throw tomatoes at me lol

***

Okay, final note, I promise! So how I see it in my mind is that they’re meeting the parents via video call. First, the parents meet their child’s partner, then they meet their own child and debrief/discuss what they think of them, plus give any advice and stuff like that. Hopefully that makes sense!

***

Today is the day. The day when you finally get to meet the Kimura family. He’s told you so much about them; how his mom cut out food in fun little shapes for his lunch, how his dad told him Japanese fairy tales before bed, how they would all go to Tokyo, where Will discovered his love for street art for the first time. Not to mention how much he idolizes the relationship his parents have - true soulmates, never fighting, understanding each other without saying a word, always together, balancing each other out like yin and yang. They sound like such lovely people, how could you ever live up to that standard? Especially when your own family is quite the opposite. You know they love you and do everything for you, but there were so many little things that they never knew hurt you so deeply and so strongly. 

Sitting in the beach hut, waiting for the screen to turn on - the anticipation makes you nauseous. You’re good with adults, people like you, and parents usually do too, I mean, what’s not to like? You’re kind, you’re generous, you’re polite, smart, funny, but you just really want to make a good impression on Will’s family. Your mind also drifts to another room where Will is about to meet your parents and you don’t want to listen to the thoughts forming in your head, even though you can already predict what your family will say. You keep wiping the sweat on your hands on your thighs, when the monitor turns on and you see two people awkwardly looking at you at first, and then start waving their hands at you. A wide smile appears on your face and you wave back.

“Hi Mr. and Mrs. Kimura! It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Aw, it's our pleasure!” said Will’s mom, “Aw you’re such a beautiful girl, you and Will look so lovely together!”

“Thank you so much! Wearing a swimsuit definitely wouldn’t be my outfit of choice for meeting you guys, but it’s love island!” You all laugh and some sense of relief settles back in the room.

“You know, we can really tell that you make Will happy. We know our child well, plus we’ve been watching every episode and you really make him smile a lot, and you make him really nervous, and that doesn’t happen often. We just want to know if you’re serious about Will.” Will’s dad did not beat around the bush. But you weren’t just playing the game either. You came on the show to have fun and weren’t really expecting to fall for someone, and yet, here you are. 

A warm smile spreads on your face that already tells everything Will’s parents want to know, but you say it anyway, “Of course. I can definitely see a future with Will. I don’t care so much about winning this show at all, it was never really my goal, I just can’t wait to get out of the villa and spend time with Will doing something normal. We were just talking about it yesterday actually. We can’t wait to even do something so boring like going to the grocery store.” You all giggle again and you can tell they believe your feelings are real. You are great with parents - why were you doubting yourself in the first place?

“Ah lovely! Once you lot are out of there, you should come by and visit us for dinner.”

“I would really love that, Mrs. Kimura! I also can’t wait to see Will’s embarrassing baby photos.” You did it again, and even the more stoic father is fully laughing and you really hope they like you. 

“Oh we will prepare those immediately! Looks like our time is almost over, but we also just wanted to apologize on Will’s behalf for making you sleep outside on the daybed, when Dylan stirred that conflict between you two.” Your eyes widened as you weren’t expecting to hear Will’s mom say this, but it’s really sweet that she did. “That was very rude of Will, and don’t worry we’ll have a talk with them. I just hope you’re not angry with them, they always get up in their head too much and then they act like that. I assure you they didn’t mean to be that rude, they just can’t handle drama and conflicts and run away too quickly.”

“But we’re glad he stuck it out with you,”  Will’s father suddenly interrupted, “He really needed someone firm to show him how to stand up to obstacles and talk through conflicts and I think he’s really found that in you, MC.”

“I really appreciate you both saying that. I’m also really glad we talked it out together. Thank you! And I guess I will see you soon?”

“We will be waiting! Good luck and goodbye MC!”

And with that they hang up. You were feeling fully relaxed by the end of the conversation, but the thought of hearing your parents say what you know they’re going to say makes you anxious again. Twitching your leg and biting your lip, you await their call next. 

***

In a separate room with a screen, Will is waiting to meet your parents. You told him a little about them - they are not bad people and you love them and you love spending time with them, just like when you were a child, but, like most of the families, you don’t have such an idyllic relationship with them. They were strict, they loved you too much, but that means they were controlling, always telling you what to do and what not to do, criticizing imperfections, projecting their own insecurities and trying to help you “avoid the mistakes they’ve made”. You never really went that deep when you talked to anyone about your family, but you started opening up a little bit to Will.

He was sitting in the room, completely chill and almost expressionless, per usual, his gaze drifting off into the distance, so it was hard to tell what went through his mind. But the fact is, he was really nervous. And he wasn’t ready to meet your parents just yet, but then again, how would you even prepare for that? But he cared about what they’ll think of him because he cared so much about you and he knew it meant a lot for you. He didn’t have a strategy, he was going to be honest and he was going to be himself - the only things he knew how to be. That always works, right? 

The screen lit up and brought him back to reality - it was happening. 

Will started, “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you finally!”

“Hi Will! How are you?” They were just as polite and proper as MC had told him, which made it slightly awkward, but he didn’t mind.

“I am well, and yourself?”

“We’re good, thank you! So yeah, what do you think of our daughter?” MC’s dad went straight to the point, definitely more confident of the two, but Will could tell that they were both really nervous speaking to him just as he was speaking to them and smiled in response.

“MC is a lovely girl and she means so much to me. I love waking up next to her, it’s like waking up in a garden to a sunbeam on your face and feeling the flower scent everywhere around you.” Yep, Will was being himself.

“That’s cute!” MC’s mom said after she giggled. Her dad smiled too. There was a moment of awkward silence, so Will decided to keep going. After all, he wanted to try a little harder than usual to make a good impression because MC really did mean a lot to him.

“She’s a wonderful person too. She’s really the heart of the villa, always helping out friends, calling people out when they are out of line, mediating conflicts - I don’t know how she does it, but she’s really brought me out of my shell and makes me want to be better and do better. You should be really proud of her.” MC told him that her parents have insanely high standards and that it upsets them when she does not meet their expectations, so he really wanted them to see her the way he does and everyone else in the villa does.

“We are really proud of her. Always,” her dad said, already thinking of the next question for interrogation. “So we just, you know, don’t want her to get hurt, so we just don’t know if you’re being real? If your feelings are real?”

There it is. The question he knew he was going to get. 

“No, I understand. You care a lot about her. I do too. I really really like MC. I know I can be a bit all over the place, and I say weird things, and yeah, it took me some time to realize my feelings for her, but they are genuine. I’ve fallen for her.” Will did his signature one-shoulder-shrug and looked so calm on the outside that it was impossible to read him, but on the inside, his heart was about to jump out of his throat. 

“Good, good,” MC’s father continued, mom quietly smiling. “Because, you know, these are all pretty words, but we just wanted to make sure. And it’s hard to tell on TV, you know?”

“Yeah, totally, I get it,” Will said while nodding. He knew he came off as a bit of a weirdo, but he also had no idea how it all looked on telly.

“Oh well, I guess it’s time for us to go. It was nice to meet you, Will,” MC’s dad smiled into the camera.

“Yes, nice to meet you!” her mom cheered.

“Likewise. I hope to see you again!” Will said and they signed off. Thoughts started racing in his head and he had no idea how her parents felt about him. But he was relieved it was over.

Before he could make sense of the situation, two familiar faces popped up on screen.

“Mom! Dad!” He was taken by surprise and felt so happy to see his parents for a change.

“Will! We missed you so much, love!” Both his parents smiled widely on the screen.

“Did you talk to MC already? What did you think of her?” He was trying to calm himself down, but was too excited to find out their opinion, not even noticing the silly grin on his face.

“Oh she is just the sweetest! Absolutely gorgeous girl, and just as kind,” his mom cooed, while his face started to blush with happiness and excitement.

“Yes, I agree, she is as wonderful as we thought she would be. You two make a lovely couple, even reminded me of us a little,” Will’s dad said with kindness in his eyes, while Will’s eyes grew wider.

He giggled, “I knew you guys would like her,” shrug, “she just brings me joy and makes me happy.”

“Oh we can definitely tell, hun. We know when you’re in love.” Will started blushing even more and looked down as his mom said the ‘L’ word.

“But we promised MC we’d talk to you about your behavior. The poor girl did not deserve to sleep on the daybeds, she went through a lot that day and did not need it from you too,” his dad said rather sternly.

“I know, I deserve that. I was a complete fool. I let emotions get the best of me. But we worked it out though," Will was speaking with his head ashamedly hanging low, only managing to look up in the end.

“We’re so proud of you Will!” his mom started again, “we really wanted it to work for you two and we hope it will in the future. You know, we were rooting for you and MC since the first time you coupled up.”

“Oh yeah?” Will was wondering.

Their mom was trying to explain, “Yeah, because although the other girls were lovely and beautiful, it was clear that they only liked your pretty face or the idea of you.”

“But MC truly likes you for who you are. And that is rare. You better hold on to that,” their dad interrupted half-jokingly.

“Alright, alright you two! I know I’m difficult,” Will rolled their eyes, “but I think I do really love her.” He even surprised himself by saying these words out loud for the first time, but he knew that’s exactly what he felt for MC.

“Alright, I think we need to go, love. Take care and have fun!” 

They all waved to each other and signed off. The heartwarming call from his parents was exactly what Will needed that day. They always know what to say and help him think clearly. He was also just ecstatic knowing they liked MC as much as he did, and that meant a lot to Will. 

***

As much as you dreaded the call, it was inevitable and a moment later the screen turned on again and you smiled at the sight of your parents looking at you.

“Hey!” You were excited to see them; you did miss them, and felt a little tear forming in the corner of your eye.

“Hello honey!” Your mom said cheerfully and it was clear they missed you too. “How are you? Are you eating alright? And are you being careful in the sun? Remember how I got that terrible sunburn at your graduation?”

“Yes, of course I remember mom, that’s why I have ten bottles of sunscreen with me,” You tilted your head to the right and laughed it off. “But what did you guys think of Will?” You tried so hard to hide the grin, but you were too excited and too nervous at the same time.

“Well, he is very handsome for sure,” your mom laughed and you joined her.

“I know, right?”

“How much do you like him though?” Dad tried to keep it grounded and you could already tell he’s not really on board.

“A lot,” you said, feeling yourself get defensive at your dad.

“I just feel like he might hurt you and I don’t know if he’s just playing the game or not.”

“Dad, I can manage myself. We’re really happy together, don’t worry.” the words came out colder than you intended them.

“It’s just if I were you, I wouldn’t get too attached and just be careful. Because he can tell you all sorts of pretty words, but at the end of the day, they don’t mean much if he leaves you for someone else.” You can tell that mom is trying to stop him from saying something he’ll regret, but you know that she agrees with him too. Your brows furrow and you can feel the lump form in your throat. No, you’re not going to allow them to put the seed of doubt in your head. 

You drop your head, looking at your lap and try to steady your voice, “So you don’t like Will.”

“Well, I’m sure he’s a nice person, but I don’t know if it’s safe to trust people like him because one day they want you and the next they need a new muse, and we just don’t want you to get hurt and heartbroken, so just be careful, okay?” You know that your dad means well, as he always does, but you can’t help feeling hurt by his words.

How could he say such hateful and stereotypical things! You thought, why can’t he just be happy that I’m happy? Why does he always have to tell me what to do? Why is he always trying to find something wrong? Maybe I just want to live in the moment and if I do get heartbroken I can learn from my own mistakes! But you also couldn’t stop wondering if they knew something you didn’t, if there was something you weren’t seeing, if the rose-colored glasses were attached so strongly that you couldn’t see past them. 

You were fighting the urge to argue back, to spill out your feelings, to defend Will and your relationship with them, but you knew it would be pointless. And not the wisest thing to do in front of the cameras. Biting your tongue, you didn’t realize that the awkward, tense silence went on for longer than it should have.

In an attempt to smooth out the conversation, your mom finally spoke, giving your dad a side eye, “Of course it’s your life, MC. You do you, honey. Anyway, I think our time’s up. We were glad to see you, MC! Love you!”

“Okay, love you too.” You hang up, visibly upset. Unable to hold it anymore, you cover your face and rub at your eyes hoping the tears would stop. You just knew that that’s exactly what they would say and you dreaded the call for this reason. It’s never a nice feeling when your family doesn’t approve of the person you want to build your future with. And now you were dreading walking out of the beach hut and having to face Will.

***

Well, you can’t hide in the beach hut for the whole day and you sniff and wipe your eyes as you close the door behind you. You head out to the bathroom to calm yourself down, but as you turn, you see Will in the hallway. He smiles sweetly as you shriek in surprise.

“Hey you! I’ve been looking for you…” before he can finish, his face drops at the sight of your watery eyes and he envelops you in his arms, his body warm and comforting. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just my parents being my parents.” You sniff loudly.

“Want to go sit down for a bit?” You nod into his chest and he leads you to the bedroom, where you snuggle close to him. With your head on his chest, you lay in silence, trying to calm down. He wraps his arms around you and gently strokes your back, which works wonders for you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Thabi walk by, but before she approaches you, Will waves her off with his free hand and mouths “I got it.”

As you manage to calm down a bit, Will finally asks, “Everything alright?”

You sigh and say “Your parents are so lovely, just like you described them. Your mom already invited us to dinner.” You both chuckle.

 “Of course she did.”

“Did they say anything about me?”

“Oh they absolutely loved you. Well done babes. I didn’t worry about that for a second. I mean, how could they not have? How could anyone not love you?”

“Oh shut up, you,” you said jokingly as you felt your cheeks get rosy.

“Oh, and they scolded me for being a prick and making you sleep on the daybeds, which I totally deserve.”

“They said they would and you do deserve that.” You laugh again and stay silent for a few minutes.

Then, Will breaks the silence, “Your parents are really nice too though. They care a lot about you, I could tell.” MC didn’t say anything, but Will wasn’t stupid - he knew they didn’t really like him. He knew. “They worry about you a lot too and that’s fair, they have a reason to be.” You lift your head slightly, giving him a concerned look, worrying that he might say something that would confirm your parents’ fears. 

He continues, “I dumped you in the beginning to pursue Thabi. I’m spacey and have commitment issues. I was basically coupled up with half the villa. I said on national telly that I slept with two people in the same day. Also might’ve mentioned that I get into open relationships sometimes. I made you sleep on the daybeds and ran off like a proper knob. Parents usually don’t like that kind of stuff.”

“But most of these things are just you being you,” you finally said back to him, relieved that it was just Will being self-aware, and no new surprises for you.

“Well, you know that, but I probably look like a walking red flag from the side.”

“No, don’t say that,” you interrupt him right away, although you can’t deny you’ve thought about that before. And you didn’t want him to feed into the doubts your parents planted in your head. “Okay, maybe it can come off like that, but I know you, and you’re not a ‘walking red flag’, Will.” And you believed what you said; you knew he was kind, caring, honest, even if sometimes he made stupid mistakes, but everyone makes mistakes.

 “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t blame your parents for hating me.” Will’s words took you by surprise and you looked up at his serene face as he smiled warmly back at you. “Maybe these are just words to you, but I really do mean it when I say that I see a future for us. I don’t want to be coupled up with anyone else, I’m happy to be with you, by your side. I don’t want us to sleep apart ever again, I want to wake up to the warmth of your sleepy face every morning. You show me how to be a better person and you inspire me. I found my muse in you. And I want to only be with you because you’re all and everything that I need and I love you.”

You feel your smile returning and lock your eyes with Will. Maybe they are just words after all, but you know that if there is one thing that he always is - it’s honest, and you believe him. And you just know, from the way they make you breakfast, from the way they stood up for you to Dylan, from the way they’re always there to hold your hand, from the way they’ve changed so much and try to be better for you, and from the way you feel their heart beating so fast right now, that Will’s feelings are genuine. 

“You don’t have to say it back, no pressure,” he shrugs and blushes.

“I love you too.” You beam at each other and gently press your lips together as he squeezes you tighter. It’s not a lusty kiss and it’s not awkward, it’s rather comforting. And it warms your soul.

You break away and you can tell there’s something else he wants to say.

“I’m usually not bothered by what others think of me. I just try to live my life being true to myself, that’s more important to me, you know?” He shrugs again and you nod, while softly smiling at him. “But you’re also important to me, and so is your family, so they don’t have to like me, but I’ll try harder next time. First impressions don’t have to decide everything, right?”

“Right.” What he said meant a lot to you and you can feel your eyes water again, but not from anger or frustration, but from happiness Will brings you.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

My Beloved Cherry Blossom ~ Yamaoka Kazan/The Oni x Fem!Reader

Note: Since Kazan lived in the feudal era, and died there, his S/O would be someone from that time, so, just like him, she'd be dead, so the shock of seeing the dead back alive would be great for him...Who also died in a painful death. Haha.

"My son, you reached the age when you have to marry and ensure the continuation of our bloodline. Since you haven't bothered looking for a potential wife, I took the liberty of finding you a pretty girl. She is the daughter of a respectable samurai who guards the Emperor, and her father ensured she is a very capable, smart and understanding woman, so she will be able to deal with your...Temper." Kazan's father sat down with his son, who scowled, offended at what he heard, but despite all this, he was well aware of this bother he had to deal with. "...Yes, father." he muttered, sharply looking down at the floor. "We will go to meet her tomorrow, at her home, an in less than a month, we will have the marriage. I know you are not the type to care about families and women...But you have to do anything in your power to ensure the honor and survivability of the Yamaoka bloodline." yes, of course, his father just had to sigh in disappointment. "I understand, father. I will make you proud." Kazan answered before leaving the room to train, as a way to let out the pent up rage.

Who needed women and a family? He certainly didn't care about that. They were a nuisance. A weakness, at best. Father is too much of a sentimental, even for a samurai. What a ridiculous charade...

And his displeasure continued even the next day, as he dressed in a rich, official kimono, to show off his heritage, but at the same time, his long hair was put in a disheveled ponytail, rebel strands flying with the wind, and the neck of his outfit was lowered down enough to show his outlaw-ish predisposition. Needless to say, his father was angered by this side of his son - Surely, he taught him better! - But it was far too late, and they had already arrived at the L/N estate.

Just outside the big, beautiful house, a petite young woman, her long dark hair shining like ebony, her skin as white as snow...She looked so frail that she'd almost resemble a snowdrop. And she was delicately playing a soft, yet sorrowful tune on her bamboo flute, while her father put a pink flower in her hair, looking at her with nostalgia and love.

Kazan look at his own father, before glancing back at the girl whom he found out was named Y/N, and realised how big of a difference it was to was a son, compared to having a daughter. The difference in the two men's behaviour was huge.

He once heard a samurai, whose wife had just given birth to his daughter, "Treat your daughter the way you wish her husband would treat her." He didn't care at first, obviously - Kazan's mind was never on marriage - But now he was beginning to understand the meaning of his words, for they were wiser than anticipated.

Her father was tender, and treating her as if she was the soft petal of a cherry blossom, and his voice was low, loving and respectful, not wanting to startle her in any way...He was talking as if he was trying to keep the zen equilibirum intact at all costs.

The love between a man and a woman is supposed to be like Yin and Yang...

But how could Kazan possibly behave in such a way, when all he knew was to be a rageful brute who would destroy everything in his path in the loudest, brashest way possible?

"Ah, Yamaoka-san, you have arrived. And you brought your son with you. It's an honour finally meeting you, Kazan. Here, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, dear, why don't you go prepare some osmanthus tea for our tired travelers, while I guide them to our table in the cherry blossom garden?" her father pat her hair, and in return, she bowed slightly at the guests, offering them a gentle smile, that would put all of Spring's flowers to shame. "Yes, right away, father. I hope you will like our flower garden. Papa had them all planted in honour of my mama. They are all her favourite kinds and colours." ah, yes, of course. Women have a special kind of bond with their mother - That was something he would never be able to fully comprehend, Kazan realised very easily, by the way the girl was close to shining as soon as she talked about her birth-giver.

The son of the Yamaoka family obvious saw women before - He wasn't an idiot - And he had enough experience with them...But there was something different about this one. She was...So...Innocent? She seemed to naive and not from this world, almost as if she had no idea of the terrors of the world outside of her residence.

It was such an endearing thing, almost exciting - But the young samurai wasn't sure if he wanted to protect this innocent ignorance at all costs...Or if he wanted to shatter it into pieces and taint it completely.

But that question was easily answered as soon as she came back and started pouring tea for him. And then later in their marriage, the way she behaved so gently with him, it was so weird, so foreign to him, and yet, it made him feel something else...Something completely different from the bubbling, infernal rage he could feel in his chest all the time.

It was soothing, mending his soul completely, for some reason that he couldn't comprehend at all.

But why should he, anyway? He was content just having her by his side whenever he was home. Only she was able of taming the storm that clouded his mind and soul.

His little cherry blossom.

And only the Gods knew how many men he had to kill to make sure she isn't harmed, or prayed upon. He never realised how many desperate, disgusting, dishonorable and lecherous men could be, but Kazan wasn't going to let her see anything other than the honour of a samurai - Like him, his father, and her own father.

However, not even her gentle soul would be able to contain his rage whenever he'd hear that dreadful, shameful nickname they would call him.

"Oni-Yamaoka"

Why was he an Ogre, all of a sudden? Because he brought justice upon the fakes who made a mockery of the code of the samurai? Because he wanted to protect the sole person he cared for in this life? Even his father was against the aggressiveness he displayed on the battlefield, and in the actions he took...It almost felt like even his father was agreeing with that stupid nickname!

"Here, Kazan, lay your head on my lap and forget about your worries, at least for tonight." Y/N pat her lap with a sweet smile, her eyes gleaming with love and benevolence as she reached out her other hand to reach out to him, and as if possessed, he followed her lead absent-mindedly. "Y/N." Kazan called out after a few minutes of having his eyes closed, feeling himself relaxing as her fingers were soothingly playing with his long, untameable hair. "Why do you always tell me to lay on your lap, whenever I'm angry?" "Do you not like it, darling?" she asked, but the passive smile on her face showed that she knew that wasn't the case at all. "I do. I was just wondering why." he grumbled in a lower voice, which made her muse, her smile shaping into an almost kitten-like one. "My mama always did that to papa. She said that the best place for a man to relax is on a girl's thighs. I don't think she was wrong." oh, what a sweet giggle she had. It sounded crystalline, like a river of diamonds going through the forest. "...I won't comment on that." the man closed his eyes, not wanting to give in to the flushed sensation he felt hearing something so embarrassing. "You do not have to be embarrassed, my dear. We are man and wife. There is nothing we could do or say that would be worth or deemed as embarrassing." she reassured him with an amused tone, as her small hand touched his bare chest, just where his heart would be. "Why are you not afraid of me, like the rest of them? You are nothing more than a frail woman. You have the eyes of a baby fawn, and the frail bones of a rabbit. You are nothing more than a flower in comparison to me. I could snap your neck like a twig if I'm not careful touching you. And yet, you allow yourself to be vulnerable around me, and while at it, you encourage me to be the same as well. I will never understand the complexity of women and their thinking." the samurai sighed, grumbling in faux annoyance. "My, my, was that what was on your mind? How lovely of you to be concerned about me. Well, I will tell you a little secret, since you are so curious, but make sure it stays between the two of us, alright?" she giggle softly, almost like a little child kissing her crush on the cheek, and it made Kazan's heart flutter. Was she truly trusting him with a secret? What did he do so worthy to her that she deemed him the perfect candidate as a secret-keeper? "I would not dare tell your secret even to the Emperor himself, or my father." came the samurai's vow with such seriousness, that made the girl grin. "You see, women aren't physically strong like men are, but what we lack physical prowess, we make up for our incredible emotional strength. So, I believe that, at least in these times of war and bloodshed, a man's role is to protect the physical body of the woman, while the woman's role is to protect her man's heart and soul. Without balance, there is no future and no happiness, wouldn't you agree? If we don't make the best out of this life, and look at the beauty of the world...Then have we even lived at all?" there was wisdom in the words that Kazan deemed rather naive, and yet...What she said wasn't wrong, per se. In fact, it was true. He was well aware that, with his body, the best he could do was protect her, but he would never be able to sooth her broken heart the same way she does to him...And likewise, he remembered the mirthful laugh he let out when she tried lifting his weapon from the ground.

However, he wasn't going to say anything out loud, and decided that, instead of voicing his opinions, he'd rather grunt and close his eyes, letting sleep take over him, his head still resting on her soft thighs.

Maybe having a wife wasn't as bad as he once thought...

But times change fast - Years pass, lives pass, the river passes...And yet, only one thing doesn't pass, and that is Yamaoka Kazan's rage, which only grew stronger and stronger with each day, and each time he heard himself getting called "The Oni".

He was desperately angry, and not even Y/N's loving touch or sweet voice could save his soul, so much, that in fear of accidentally hurting her, he decided to stay out and train or go on and kill more and more samurai impersonators, hoping to somehow release all his anger and be able to return home.

He knew Y/N would be worrying for him, but she needn't do such a thing, it would only hurt her heart, and that was the last thing he wanted. He was strong, and feared - Who would dare go against Yamaoka Kazan, anyway?

The days away from home multiplied, and he was away for a stupefying month...Y/N must be crying, worried sick. He wasn't afraid of anything physical in this world, yet the thought of her doe eyes shedding tears...It was something he was terrified of, especially if he was the cause of that.

But on the way home, he found a pink lotus flower, and he thought she would love it, so he gently took it with him back home. It was raining, and an ominous feeling crept into Kazan's heart, and he realised there seemed to be an almost dark aura around his home.

It wasn't yet sleeping time, so why were there no candles lit? There was no sign of any living being there? Where were the servants? Where was his beloved Y/N, waiting for him on the porch, playing the flute the way she always did?

Something was not right...

The man rushed inside the house, and as soon as he slammed open the sliding door, he was met with nothing that he expected - Pools of blood on the floor, while the otherwise neutral-coloured walls were splattered with the red liquid, and the corpses of the servants were brutally mangled and thrown around as if they were defect ragdolls.

It wasn't the horrifying sight that scared him, but the fate of his wife - So he made haste and ran to their shared room...And there she was.

In more pieces than she should be in.

Her hair was a mess, her kimono was a mess, her make up was a mess...And she had been tortured, from the way her wounds, slashes and cuts looked on her body.

Who...? Who could do something so...So...Disgusting...To a defenseless woman who had no means of fighting back? Where was the honour in defeating a weak civilian, such as her? What was the purpose of this massacre?! Was it to anger him? To bring out the Ogre from him? Is it what they all wanted? To see The Oni they feared and hated so much? They got revenge on a small woman, just to get to him?!

"Ah, Kazan, finally. Took you quite a while to return home...I thought her body would rot away and get swarmed with maggots by the time you'd return. And what's that in your hand? A flower? Did you want to apologise to her with a stupid flower? You have caused my daughter immense distress, and yet, she loved you to the very end. You should have seen her cry out your name, praying for you to come back home and save her...But, alas, the Ogre is never home! He is so busy killing, that he didn't realise he killed his own wife! Hahaha! Yamaoka Kazan, you are a pathetic excuse of a man, you could never come close to her strength! I tried everything to get her to tell me your secrets...But she didn't say a word. She ignored me. In the end, she came to hate me, her own father, who cared and loved her since she was born...And she loved you, some spineless monster who knows nothing but carnage!" what...? What was this man saying...? Is he truly implying that he tortured his own daughter to death, for...Information...On him...? "What...Did you do...?!" red was the only thing he could see, as he couldn't help but stare deep into her dead eyes that still held the fright and agony they last felt when she was still alive. "I KILLED HER! I KILLED MY OWN DAUGHTER, Y/N! This whole marriage was meant to bring down your stupid family of brutes and uncontrollable monsters! It was meant to kill YOU! But she was stupid! Nothing more than a sentimental woman! She LOVED you, a monster who knows only bloodlust! It's YOUR fault that she is dead, Kazan! YOU killed her! YOU!" her father yelled at him only meaningless gibberish.

In fact, Kazan couldn't comprehend words anymore. Instead, he could only hear whispers - They were soft and feminine...They sounded like Y/N...Could her ghost be talking to him? Was she trying to calm him down one more time, from beyond this world?

Yes, you were a saint, truly...It was a pity you had to meet him...If you hadn't, you'd have still been alive...And your beautiful flute song would still resound around the forest, along with the thrill of the birds.

"I am sorry, Y/N" was the last thing Kazan thought...

As The Oni took over completely, and went on the greatest blood shed known to mankind at that time...

------

What am I doing here...? What is this strange place...? It looks nothing like the beautiful flower garden Kazan made for me...So where am I?

The girl looked around like a confused meerkat, asking herself a limitless amount of questions, only to look down and realise her beautiful pink kimono was dirty with mud, and she gasped in shock. How could she let that happen! She can't let Kazan see her like this, what would he think?!

Ah, yes, that's it, just look around for Kazan, he'll surely know what's going on!

However, instead of finding her strong samurai, she saw three other people, all looking of a different race than her, and wearing such strange clothes...

Was she behind fashion, and she had no idea? She was sure she was buying only the best kimonos there were...!

"What are you just standing around for?! Run! We have to repair the generators!" a girl with unnatural coloured hair yelled at her before she sprinted the hell out of there.

Generators...? What are...Generators...? And why is this place so creepy...?

Hold up...This paper wall maze...This was from her home! Yes, that means she was close to home!

She ran through the little maze with a smile on her face, only to see one of the man working very focused on some kind of contraption, and he urged her to help him out. She sheepishly crouched opposite of him, frightened, but she carefully tried to do something, but instead, a loud noise and sparks came out, and she shrieked in fear, shielding her face as she fell on her back.

"What kind of sorcery is this?!" she cried out, her eyes watering. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Do you want to die that badly?! Get a grip and do something useful for once!" the man screamed in her face, before running the hell out of there.

Why were they all so rude to her...?

She was so used to her family, her servants, friends and Kazan to be nice with her, that she didn't realise people like these existed too.

A bit shaky, Y/N got up, trying to pat away the dust from her dirty kimono, and continued to look the estate...Only to find her home...But why was it in such a deplorable state...? Surely, she wouldn't allow her beloved home to end up like this...!

As Y/N made her way inside the home, she noticed the scary amount of blood splattered all over the place...Almost as if there was more red than colours of walls an the floor. It was so frightening...And confusing.

Who died here? And how in the world...I mean...She was sleeping, and then...

Oh.

Oh.

No.

She wasn't sleeping...

As soon as she stepped into her room, she didn't notice the blood on the floor, but the discarded pink lotus that laid on her pillow. As she crouched to take the flower in her room, she got a sudden flashback of her memories from the night she died...

She waited for Kazan, and the elderly servant woman was comforting her, pouring her tea and patting her back, as she played the same flute song she did when she first met beloved.

But then, her father paid her a visit...And a true hell was unleashed...

Her own father did something so atrocious...Such a betrayal was nothing she could ever phantom in her own life, and yet, her life was ended not by a stranger, but by her own kin.

As silent tears escaped her eyes and streamed down her delicate cheeks, a loud roar shook the whole estate, and the brusque blurting in the room of a huge man was enough to fright her to fall on the ground with a startled yelp.

And yet...

The raised weapon, the samurai garments he wore...And that Oni mask... There was only one person in the world who could look like this.

"Kazan...?" her voice came out weaker than a whisper, and she wasn't sure if he even heard her calling out his name. For a split second, she was terrified of the thought of that horribly enormous weapon striking her down where she stood, in her own bed, for the second time...And yet...

The monstrously big man dropped his weapon and slowly crouched in front of her, picking up the flower and putting it in her hair, pinning it away from her gorgeous face.

"Y/N...It really is you..." his voice came out as a dark grunt, in fact, in very much sounded like a demon, and yet, his moves and actions seemed more delicate than even this lotus flower.

The girl started laughing from happiness, allowing more tears to escape her eyes, being reunited with the love of her life, and she threw herself in her arms, feeling safer than she ever did in her life.

"I missed you so much, my dear Kazan...I missed you so...I can't believe such things happened to us...And yet, here we are, together again, even in death, even in hell." as she said that, she slowly took away his mask, and revealing his rugged face, obviously one of a man seasoned in war and tortured to death - She put her hand on his cheek, just as he used to do with her, and caressing him, she leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead.

It was meant not only as a lucky charm, but as a 'home sweet home' as well, for there was no home without Kazan's arms wrapped around her protectively...

And there was no home without the petite body of his beloved S/O in his strong embrace, watching her fall asleep.

"I promise you never leave you again, my beloved cherry blossom." he said so, and yet, having been in this Hell longer than her, he knew of the atrocities she, as a Survivor, would have to endure, and the hell the Entity would put on the both of them.

And yet...

If anyone even dares to look at her the wrong way, The Oni would make sure that, no matter how immortal the Killer might be, he would bring an end to them.

He already lost her once, and he's not going to let a tragedy befall her ever again.

[clandonnachaidh]

Light Across The Seas That Sever (Ch6)

AO3

“Mind ye’ve got that meeting this afternoon?” Ian reminded him for the thousandth time as they all sat at the breakfast table and Jamie fought the urge not to roll his eyes, already mildly annoyed at the fact that his bowl of porridge wasn’t quite right. He should’ve made it himself without backing down when Jenny had insisted on doing it for him, that way it would’ve been thick enough to plaster a wall with, just how he liked it. But his sister would never surrender the spurtle, working it through the oats and milk until they became creamy and setting a large bowl of sugar on the table, much to Jamie’s distaste. Thick enough to clart a wall and with enough salt to make your eyes water, that was exactly how he’d had it since he was a bairn, their mother taking hers in the same way. Only Jenny and their father had preferred that their breakfast be covered in sugar and the sweetness of the Scottish strawberries that grew wild on Lallybroch estate.

“Aye, I ken fine well enough,” Jamie grunted without turning his eyes towards Ian who was trying to encourage a spoonful into Wee Ian’s mouth. “Whit was the name of the estate again?”

“’Tis the only estate in Tomich but did I no’ tell ye? He’s changed the meeting to the golf club.”

It had been his idea to begin with but now Jamie was uncertain about how their drunken plan was taking shape. After one too many whiskies of a night, he and Ian had been sprawled in front of the fire as they chastised the blend that they were imbibing, arrogantly announcing that the two of them could do much better. Jamie hadn’t thought anything of it as he’d stumbled to his bed and let sleep take him but a few days later he found himself mending a fence post in the back field as Ian continued his musing about Broch Mordha putting its stamp on the world as a new destination for a premier whisky distillery and the two of them, its innovative creators.

Jamie grunted as he rose to his feet and deposited his bowl into the deep sink, letting the tap run to soak the dish and refusing to turn his body to take in the picture perfect family scene that was sat at the kitchen table.

“Mr Dunsany—“

“He’s a Lord, is he no’?”

“Is there a reason yer being a particularly crabbit arse this morning, brother?” Jenny’s voice was dripping with irritation, not wanting her nice family breakfast to be ruined by the interminable grey cloud that had been brewing over Jamie’s head for the past few weeks.

“Jen, leave him be.”

“I will not. He’s been a moanin’ greetin’ face since he came back from that bloody reunion and ’tis hell time he snapped out of it,” she said a little louder to ensure that Jamie heard the emphasis that she placed on the insult as it flew from her mouth.

This caused him to turn on his heel and level his sister with a careful eye.

“I’m sorry, Janet, but sometimes I think ye forget that there is a world outside of Lallybroch. Life can be a damn sight more complicated than poppin’ out weans and tending tae chickens, ye ken.”

If her temper didn’t hit the roof, her eyebrows certainly made a good go of it. Silently, her fingers curled tightly around the spoon, stilling herself against the pull of Wee Ian’s chubby little hand that was fisted in the material of her shirt, demanding attention.

“I ken that fine well, James. But ye canna jus’ come home every time ye see her and sulk like a wee bairn that doesna get what he wants. Grow up a wee bit, aye?”

At the end of her parting shot, Jamie felt the anger licking at the sides of his throat. The rage that he’d been directing towards himself was now begging to be let loose on someone else, someone that would bite back and Christ, Jenny would do just that. It had been this way since he’d come home, the frustration melting into a sullenness that had punctured the idyllic bubble that the family lived in at Lallybroch. In his worst thoughts, he resented both his sister and his best friend and the happiness that they shared. Jamie loved them to their bones, of course he did, but after leaving Oxford with yet another memory of how he’d let Claire slip through his fingers, the last thing he wanted to see was the very evident love between Jenny and Ian and their three children.

And so he found himself, in a suit that was a bit tight across his shoulders but he’d purchased anyway in a department store on the Inverness High Street, shaking hands with Lord William Dunsany in the bar of a golf club that he’d never seen fit to frequent himself. Jamie tried his hardest not to let the glances from the club members get to him as they walked around the lounge with an understated belonging the he’d never feel himself. He made sure that he gave a strong handshake, looking the shorter man straight in the eye and made the informed decision to swap from his usual Scots to his best Received Pronunciation, assuming that Lord Dunsany was one of those people who claimed to be a ’Scotchman’ but was as English as they come with the age old story of inheriting Scottish land as a birthright. Jamie had realised, however, that the man certainly knew his whisky and would make a not-half-bad business partner with himself and Ian if he managed to convince him to part with some cash.

Jamie was fuzzy on the details of how’d they’d come to the agreement but two hours and four whiskies later, he found himself once more shaking hands with Dunsany. The Lord would foot the seed money in exchange for a fairly sizeable but not unfair amount of the business and as a personal favour, Jamie would escort his eldest daughter around Edinburgh the following evening.

“She’s up here with me to get away from some nonsense that’s gone on at home but she’s been cooped up in her hotel for days while her mother tries to organise a townhouse for her. I just want her to get out and see the city. Who better to show her around than a native?”

Late next afternoon, his slight hangover thankfully having subsided after a coffee and a square sausage roll, Jamie stepped off of the train and onto the platform of Waverley Station in the heart of Edinburgh.

The tang of the breweries immediately filled his nostrils and he breathed deeply as the ever present sound of bagpipes floated down from the upper level of the street. While Lallybroch where was his heart lived, and he loved the humour and familiarity of Glasgow, Edinburgh held a special place in his heart. He never got tired of grabbing a coffee and walking the length of George Street in the sun, the castle bursting into view if he turned his eyes to the east.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way towards the hotel that Dunsany had insisted on to putting him up in, the same one as his daughter just to make things simple. Although Jamie had spent many a morning diving into the spectacular breakfasts put on at one of his favourite places in Edinburgh, The Huxley, he had never imagined staying at The Caledonian that loomed over the small establishment just metres from its door.

Jamie didn’t quite know what to do as the doorman who was wearing a bloody top hat opened the door to the hotel for him so he settled on giving the man a polite smile, resisting an absurd urge to give him some type of formal bow. He had been in nice hotels before but nothing like this with its polished marble floor and a huge vases of fresh cut flowers on most surfaces that he could see.

“Mr Fraser, we have you in the Robert Louis Stevenson Suite for two nights. Here is your room key and it also includes the number for the Concierge, should you have any need. We have a table booked in the Peacock Alley bar for you and Miss Dunsany at 6pm this evening and I would be happy to make any dinner reservations you would like to make, within or outwith the hotel. Michael can get the rest of your bags from the car,” a neat blonde woman smiled at him from the reception desk as she inclined her head to the bellboy hovering at a polite distance over Jamie’s right shoulder.

“It’s nae bother, lass, I’ve only got the one bag,” Jamie muttered with a hint of embarrassment as he pulled the bag from the floor and swiped the keycards from the desk, smiling back at her. “Thank ye.”

When he stepped through the door that bore the name of one of Scotland’s most beloved authors, his growing Imposter Syndrome ramped up a few notches. Crossing the floor towards the window, Jamie was greeted by a beautiful view of the castle as it loomed over the city. He didn’t quite know how to act, having never been in such a large and clearly expensive hotel room. In fact, it wasn’t even a room, the woman at the desk had called it a suite.

Flicking through the TV channels for a little while, settling on the new show about Billy Connolly’s upbringing in Scotland, his fingers lazily scratched at the bare patch of skin just above his belt buckle. Something about being in a different city and having some time to himself made him feel lighter than he had in weeks and he gave himself permission to laugh at a particularly lewd joke that spilled from The Big Yin’s mouth on the TV.

Jamie’s phone, lying face up on the mattress beside his left shoulder, startled him as it gave a firm buzz. Sitting up, he opened the latest message from Geneva, telling him that she wanted to go out for dinner somewhere nice tonight. He was under no illusion as to the fact that when someone like Geneva Dunsany used the words ‘somewhere nice’, she was actually saying ‘somewhere expensive’. But thankfully, Jamie knew just the place and sent her a reply saying that he had it in hand before phoning down to the reception and having the helpful woman book a table at a restaurant he knew would be impressive enough but not so posh that he would feel out of his depth by eating there.

Although they’d messaged back and forth that afternoon, he hadn’t bothered to enlarge the tiny picture next to her name at the top of the screen. Toying with his phone, Jamie resolved that he had to know what the lass looked like, not wanting to have to shuffle embarrassingly around the bar trying to figure out who he was there to meet.

Her picture brought to its full size, he looked at her for the first time and tried was pleasantly surprised. She was clearly beautiful. Dark hair that flowed in loose waves over bare shoulders, her skin a beautiful olive brown from a summer tanning on a beach somewhere. She was looking at the camera dead on with a surety that came from a privileged upbringing, her face painted perfectly and a twist of the lips that couldn’t really be called a smile, as if she didn’t want to be seen to be having fun. She looked like every posh girl that Jamie had met in his life, every girl at university who would air kiss their friends on both cheeks while their manicured hands clutched at bags that cost more than his first car.

Suppressing a groan at the thought of spending a weekend with a person who no doubt came from an entirely separate world than the one he’d grown up in, Jamie divested himself of his socks as he plodded, bare feet on plush carpet, through to the bathroom to take a shower and clean himself up ahead of his evening.

Later, he sat at the bar, his fingers playing with the patterns on the cut crystal glass that housed his double whisky, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder.

“James Fraser?”

His stomach dropped into the floor.

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind at what hearing his name fall from the lips of an Englishwoman would do to him. He felt an absurd wave of revulsion swipe through him in an instant and he took a quick drink before turning on his stool to face her, swallowing the bile that had risen up in his throat.

“Och, lass, nobody really calls me James. Ye can call me Mac. ’Tis another one of my family names,” he tried to sound light and not as if the sounds of his name leaving her lips felt like the flesh on his back had been ripped open to the bone.

There was a reluctance in her eyes and he immediately knew that she was uncomfortable so he did his best to send her his most charming smile, gesturing for her to sit and then signalling to the bartender.

“What would ye like tae drink?”

“Martini, if you would, extra dry, extra dirty,” she ordered confidently as the bartender nodded and turned to begin preparing it for her.

With her chin in the air, she asked, “So, my father said you were a business associate?”

“Aye, I suppose I am now. My brother-in-law and myself wish to start our own whisky company. Your father has kindly offered to help.”

“My father isn’t generally in the habit of helping out of kindness.”

“Aye, well, hopefully he trusts that we ken what we’re doing. Or that we’ll figure it out at the very least,” Jamie tried to joke but she gave him nothing. There was something cold in her demeanour that he hoped he wouldn’t have to fight against for the whole evening.

After watching the martini disappear down Geneva’s throat in record time, he offered her an arm as they left the hotel and were hit by the cool air of Edinburgh in the evening. As soon as Jamie took the first step towards Princes Street, Geneva halted.

“We’re walking?”

“’Tis no’ far, only ten minutes or so. We have time before our reservation,” he replied, gently tugging on the arm that she’d looped through his so that she would begin to walk with him. Her feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete.

“These are £500 shoes, I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Lass, Edinburgh is a city tae get lost in. If we get a taxi we’ll just be looking at the sides of buses and traffic lights. Yer father asked me tae show ye the city,” letting her arm slip from his, Jamie took a step forward and gestured towards the castle, atmospherically lit from beneath now that the sun had gone down. He turned back to her with a kind smile and held out his hand. “Let me, aye?”

Reluctantly, she acquiesced and let him lead her away from the hotel. Jamie’s skin tingled at the contact and he realised that he hadn’t touched a woman apart from Jenny since the university reunion with Claire. He flexed his fingers experimentally and felt something swell in the pit of his stomach when Geneva tightened her grip in response.

The two of them made small talk as they walked through Princes Street gardens and up towards the restaurant, Geneva seeming happy enough with the venue that he’d chosen. He’d heard good things about The Witchery before and as they sat down at a table covered in a pristine white cloth, surrounded by painted dark wood on the walls and ceilings, he noticed how pretty Geneva looked in the candlelight. Only a fool would try to argue that she wasn’t beautiful. But there was a coldness to her that hadn’t warmed yet and so he kept on being as charming as he could, hoping that another glass of wine might bring down the steely demeanour that she seemed to hold on to for dear life.

Oxford had been full of girls like Geneva Dunsany. Wealthy, privileged and confident. After four years of university, Jamie had perfected the art of tuning out their inane conversation about which exotic place they’d spent their summer, who’s guestlist they’d been placed on for the weekend and what they were planning on wearing. So he knew how to respond to her constant stream of speech, nodding and agreeing in the right places and sending dazzling smiles across the table when he felt like rolling his eyes. Though somehow, he found that he didn’t actually dislike Geneva Dunsany. Something in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she chose her words, showed Jamie that the poor little rich girl personality was an act. Underneath the mask, she felt the same way that he did—unfathomably sad.

Something inside of him felt sorry for her, recognising the pain that he knew all too well in another. And while he didn’t particularly care for the woman, Jamie decided to be kind to her. He leaned closer across the table and started to respond to her stories with anecdotes of his own. With the help of another two martinis, she began to blossom in his company and the two shared a relatively pleasant evening together.

When they reached the hotel elevator, Jamie had nothing on his mind other than stripping off his constricting shirt and sleeping off the whisky cloud that was hanging somewhere around his temples.

“What’s on the agenda now, then?” Geneva asked as they stood side by side.

“Shower then bed, I think.”

“Sounds good to me,” she all but whispered, Jamie’s head twisting to see the dark look of seduction that was painted on her face. “Mind if I join you?”

He didn’t say no.

It was shocking how easily he slipped into the worst version of himself. There had been a few nights in the past where he’d spent too much time and money in the pub in Broch Mordha and woken up the morning with some woman curled around him at whatever bed and breakfast they’d invited him back to. He only ever slept with women who were in the area for the moment, never anyone who he’d run into again. It was always when he was half gone with drink, his body acting solely on blind need that he succumbed to his baser instincts.

The doors of the elevator opened and Geneva walked in purposefully, turning to look at him with an alluring smile. Jamie walked in beside her and pressed the number for her floor.

They found pleasure in each other’s bodies but it was skin deep at best. A simple matter of scratching an itch that they both clearly had and had resolved to using the other to sate that particular need. There were no delicate touches or gazes held for any real length of time. Jamie set himself to work, making sure that she got hers before followed suit. It was perfunctory. Pleasant. And when they both uttered their subdued sounds of fulfilment, Geneva immediately rolled away from him, shielding herself once more.

“Do ye want me to go?” Jamie’s voice broke through the dark silence of the room.

Her response was barely a whisper, “Please.”

He dressed quickly, roughly, and scrambled around in the dark for his phone that had fallen from his pocket. Geneva was lying as still as a statue but Jamie could hear the odd sniff from her and realised that she had begun to cry. After dithering between his options, his inherent gentlemanliness won out.

“Is there anything I can do?”

There was no response for a few seconds and he took that as his answer, beginning to move towards the door of the room when a single word stopped his hand from turning the doorknob.

“Stay.”

Keeping his eye on her as though she was a frightened animal that might bolt at any provocation, he slowly began to undress. When she moved over slightly to give him room to get under the covers, he did just that and felt a strange sense of kinship as she wrapped her body around his. Jamie held her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep in his arms. The sound of her gentle breathing was the only thing filling the room until his phone suddenly pinged with a notification.

Facebook Congratulate Claire Beauchamp on their engagement!

Before he could stop himself, he opened the app and looked at the posed photograph of the two of them, her left ring finger showing off an almost comically large diamond ring.

After telling our friends and family, we are so happy to announce that we are engaged! We thank everyone so far for their kind words and well wishes. From the future Mr and Mrs Frank Randall.

Every muscle on his body was thrumming with energy. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the energy was made from. Rage? Fear? Utter desolation? Whatever it was, it was coiling its way around his ribs, holding him in stasis and holding him hostage as he experienced it.

He wasn’t even considered a friend anymore, seeing as he hadn’t been given the privilege of a private message, having to find out through fucking Facebook. She had clearly changed in her time in Boston, the Claire he knew would never have given up her name and become Mrs Frank Randall. Randall-Beauchamp at the very least, for Christs sake.

Tasting the rare metallic nature of blood in his mouth, Jamie realised that he was biting the inside of his cheek. He felt the need to get up and do something, anything to expel the energy that was going to burst out of him if he didn’t channel it into something. But he was stilled by the feel of Geneva’s naked body against his and a rush of guilt tried to swallow him whole.

How dare he question Claire’s life, assume to know her situation all the while he was in bed with another woman. Reminding himself for the hundredth time that Claire had made her choice and it wasn’t him, he swallowed his pride and went to send her a message, even though he knew it wasn’t a smart idea.

He shouldn’t have had that final whisky.

Jamie: Just seen the news. Congratulations to you and yours.

A blatant lie but what was he supposed to say?

To his surprise, her reply was almost immediate.

Claire: Thank you!

Short and to the point. Two words that would shut down any further conversation, a feigned attempt at excitement and gratitude that he prided himself on being able to see through.

He knew that he would have been one of many to send the same sentiment that day but he had kidded himself that his text would receive a more personalised response. Maybe all she thought of him was a copy and paste response as she planted her phone down screen first on the sofa before climbing into the arms of her future husband.

In an attempt to hold the tears at bay, Jamie curled an arm around Geneva’s prone body, bringing up his hands to his arm and pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw stars.

[creepy-spooghetti]

How are you doing? Damn girl I missed your stuff about Ben 🌞 I'd love it if you wrote some things about him. Literally anything, when you have time and interest for this.

I'm doing well! Thanks for the hug ^^ You never specified what you wanted so what you get below is what my delirious brain came up with at 11 o'clock at night - enjoy anyway though!! <3

Ben Drowned S\O Headcanons

Ben has a reputation in a lot of peoples' personal AUs as being a sex-driven, perverted little asshole. but lemme tell you now, this certainly is not the case with our favorite Link look-alike.

Whenever the subject of 'love' or 'sex' comes up, especially around you, his ears turn all red and his whole body just kind of stiffens up as he goes into silent mode.

If he does start talking, however, he'll end up stumbling over his words, his voice will go squeaky as if he's teleported back into the early stages of puberty, and his eyes will look at virtually anything but you out of pure embarrassment.

It really is adorable, you must say.

It's moments like these when you lay on the PDA really hard, and you'll kiss his head, or snuggle into his side, even verbally tease him a bit.

"Hey, Ben, ya know what we haven't done in a while? Napped together."

"Aww hun, what's the matter? You're lookin' a little red."

"Ya know, embarrassment looks pretty good on you~"

He like, loves it but despises it at the same time; it's his guilty pleasure, in some aspects.

He's one of those that like to put up a careless exterior, but when somebody says the right thing, he'll pretty much just turn into a ghostly sludge of utter humiliation.

All of this was ten times worse before the two of you became a couple.

Someone could just mention crushes or attraction and he'd be dead.

This "someone" was mostly Jeff on days he wanted to embarrass him. He still does, it just isn't as effective.

You know, the first time you and Ben actually did something as simple as holding hands for the first time, he morphed into a pile of jelly at the rapid beating of his heart and the butterflies in his stomach.

But he just loves you so damn much, the poor boy can't even help it.

Just being around you can be enough to make him blush.

As your relationship as a couple grew, so did his confidence, and now he's chill most times you actually opt to touch him in any way, shape, or form.

Well, on the outside, at least.

But on the inside? His mind is going into alert mode and his insides just feel like they're swirling from euphoria.

I mean, who would have thought that Ben would ever get someone as awesome as you?

Certainly not the other Pastas, since none of them ever thought of Ben as 'boyfriend material'.

Guess he really showed them up.

Okay but seriously though, this dude may not be the smoothest boyfriend out there, but he tries. And he's so freaking sweet.

He regularly rubs it in Jeff's face that he managed to get a girlfriend before him, even though Jeff is like four years older.

Jeff only grunts and mutters, "who needs girls anyway?"

Ben is definitely the kind of person that will 100% overdo it on Valentine's day.

He'll treat it more like Hannuka to be completely honest.

I mean, there's gonna be a present for every day of the month of February, even when Valentine's day has passed already.

Heart chocolates for day #1, your favorite cookie for day #2, a giant teddy bear for day #3, a very strangely worded poem that's supposed to sound romantic but ends up just sounding awkward (he wrote it himself!) for day #4, and so on.

It's so sweet yet totally pointless because what are you supposed to do with all this unedible stuff? You only have so much room for storage!

But it's the thought that counts.

He won't really expect anything but attention out the yin-yang for days on end in return, but if you do get him a gift, he will be all yours for roughly 14 to 24 hours.

This boy gets excited over the simplest things you do for him, he is a major simp, I think it's safe to say.

But it's in the best possible way!

If you're ever feeling insecure about your looks or otherwise, he will pull you in front of a mirror, make you stare at your reflection, and ask you what you see. If you respond with something negative he'll just shake his head.

"Ya know what I see? A beautiful girl with all these adorable little quirks that make her unique. Her smile's adorable, her eyes are like looking into nature's finest jewels, and her laugh is just the best sound in the world. What she sees as imperfections are just the things that add depth and make her so great. And I wouldn't have it any other way..."

It's so corny but surprisingly grown-up for Ben's immature self.

Still though, it makes you tear up and you just wanna cuddle him for an hour or two.

Of course, he's very open to that. Then again, he's almost always up for cuddles, so.

Overall just really loveable, selfless, and affectionate. For big snugglers that love fun-sized bois, Ben is perfect for you.

[thebakingqueen5]

KW 2021: Blending Cultures

Day 2 for Kataang Week 2021 hosted by @kataang-week with the prompt Blending Cultures!

Definitely one of my better oneshots this week, mildly inspired by that one tumblr post talking about how the cloudbabies' mixed heritage should've been more highlighted in LoK. Hope I did it justice!

Links: AO3 | FF.net

Summary: Another year, another summer, another week of prompts celebrating our favorite couple. Kataang Week 2021 Day 2: Blending Cultures. Aang and Katara were from two very different cultures, but they made their family work anyways.

Word Count: 2.6K

The Air Nation and the Water Tribes.

Two extremely versatile societies, with rich cultures and very diverse people.

From these two societies came two very special people, who against all odds managed to create a beautiful life together: Avatar Aang from the Southern Air Temple and Master Katara from the Southern Water Tribe.

From the very start, Aang and Katara intertwined their traditions in ways not many believed were possible in the fresh post-war era.

Their wedding, the beginning of their family, had been the grandest event in over a century for both nations given that the war had prevented such festivities during its reign of terror. That day was to be a sign of healing, of peace, and of celebration as their friends and family from all four nations came together at Air Temple Island in honor of love.

Aang had been standing at the marble altar in long flowing robes of the brightest yellows, reds, and oranges. The warm smile on his face complimented the warm hues of his clothing, and a string of engraved wooden beads and thread tassels adorned his neck.

Katara, on the other hand, looked like the night to his day, wearing a deep, dark blue dress passed down from her mother. It had golden thread embroidered on the bodice and skirt to mimic the constellations sailors used to navigate the icy waters surrounding her home, and, in Aang’s opinion, it gave her an absolutely ethereal presence.

Bouquets of ice lilies, pink flowers that grew near the Southern Spirit Oasis, intermingled with the flowers of moon peaches grown at the Air Temples lined the halls of the temple as the bride and groom’s loved ones watched them perform each nation’s respective wedding customs.

As per Air Nomad tradition, the week before the wedding, Aang and Katara had visited the four air temples and meditated in front of each of the eternal tornadoes in hopes that the cardinal wind spirits would guide them in the right direction no matter where life led.

The pair had also gotten complimentary tattoos on their backs, right over their hearts (slightly above in Aang’s case due to his scar): yin for Aang and yang for Katara, to symbolize how they balanced each other and created harmony.

When they stood on the altar, their officiator, Hakoda, had tied three sacred red strings around their ring fingers. They were woven from plants growing around Aang’s original home, the Southern Air Temple, and symbolized the red thread of fate binding them to each other, their soulmates. The strings also stood for the three tenets of a successful marriage: trust, communication, and love, all of which they had plenty of.

The second part of the ceremony incorporated the Southern Water Tribe traditions. Around Katara’s neck rested her mother’s necklace, the symbol for water on one side and the symbol for air on the other, an addition by Aang (with her permission of course) so that she would never have to choose between wearing one pendant or the other.

After their hands had been binded by the threads, their two chosen tribal elders, Pakku and Kanna, stepped up with wooden bowls of navy paint in hand and gave them their marks from ice dodging all those years ago. Katara, once again, received a crescent moon in the center of her forehead, the Mark of the Brave, while Aang was given the Mark of the Trusted, a slightly curved arch that barely touched the tip of his arrow.

“Aang and Katara,” Hakoda began, “Your two marks show that you are the embodiment of bravery and honesty, and these traits will do you well in the years to come. You will always have courage and trust in one another, as those are your natural inclinations, but you must take care to incorporate logic and wisdom into your interactions and decisions with one another to remain as steadfast and stable as the undulations of the great ocean.”

He turned to the enraptured airbender, who was unable to tear his gaze away from his soon-to-be wife.

“Do you, Avatar Aang of the Air Nomads, vow to trust Katara, to accept, learn from, and return her courage and bravery, to love her through wind and hail, through blizzards and storms, in times of plenty and of scarcity, for as long as the moon guides the sea’s waves to shore?”

“I do.”

Hakoda smiled and turned to his daughter.

“And do you, Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, vow to have courage for Aang, to accept, learn from, and return his trust and honesty, to love him through wind and hail, through blizzards and storms, in times of plenty and of scarcity, for as long as moon guides the sea’s waves to shore?”

“I do.”

“Then let the spirits of our ancestors, the great Tui and La, and the cardinal wind spirits bear witness to this union and bless it as they have with all those before.”

Hakoda, Pakku, and Kanna all dipped their fingers into a small bowl of water from the Spirit Oasis and sprinkled it over the couple.

“You are now husband and wife. Welcome to the family, son.”

Aang and Katara both smiled widely and pulled each other into a tight embrace.

“We’re married,” the airbender whispered incredulously.

“I know,” she said back. “I was there.”

He laughed and swept her up in a kiss, taking care not to mess up her ornate braids as he closed the distance between them.

“I love you,” he murmured when they finally parted.

“I should hope so, you did just vow to love me no matter what.”

Aang rolled his eyes and pouted. “I’m trying to be sweet here, the least you could do is return the favor.”

Katara gave him an exaggerated sigh and rested her head on his chest, her arms draped around his neck and she closed her eyes in contentment.

“I love you too, Aang. Forever and always.”

“See now that’s more like it!” he grinned, making the waterbender chuckle.

“All that planning, all the months of stress and doing overtime to get the next two weeks off and planning and the wedding invitations and did I mention the planning?” The two shared a short laugh. “All of that and we’re finally here. We’re married. What do we do now? Where do we go from here?”

“Slow down there, Tara. We have the rest of our lives together to figure all that out. Let’s stay in the moment.”

“Rest of our lives. I like the sound of that,” she smiled.

“I did promise you that we would grow old together, did I not? I intend on seeing that through. For now though, the buffet will be starting and I’m famished. Let’s go eat!”

“You sound like Sokka,” she deadpanned, an amused glint in her eyes nevertheless. “Lead the way, my dear husband.”

The airbender gallantly gestured to where the rest of the crowd had already started heading. “But of course, my lovely wife.”

The banquet, like their wedding, was an exquisite culmination of food from all over. There were countless Air Nomad and Water Tribe dishes present, in addition to a few from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation like bean curd puffs, mochi, and, of course, Aang’s personal favorite, egg custard tarts.

Though Aang had reassured his bride during the wedding planning that she could arrange for as many meat dishes as she liked for her Water Tribe family, Katara had declined, saying that they could go without it for one day.

Instead, the feast had traditional southern foods like kale cookies, five flavor soup, sea prune stew (which Aang took extra care to avoid), and a new dessert that Sokka had been working on: spun sugar in the shape of a ball that he liked to call “cotton candy”.

The guests attending were especially excited for the Air Nomad cuisine present, as such a variety of foods from their culture hadn’t been seen in over a century. Vegetable-filled dumplings and bowls of savory mung bean curry sat on round platforms that rotated in the center of the tables. Golden platters held coconut macaroons, warm steamed buns, and a large variety of fruit pies made from the trees that grew on the mountainside next to the temples. There was also a special syrup made from maple trees that went over a fluffy Earth Kingdom delicacy called “pancakes.”

Everyone had an absolutely grand time, and the event was one talked about for quite some time to come, both with its political significance (the Avatar’s wedding wasn’t something that happened every day) and the symbolism it had for how the nations themselves could work together if they tried to create something beautiful.

The way Aang and Katara’s traditions mixed that very first day of their family was reflected throughout the rest of their life as they blended their cultures for their children.

Aang often took Bumi, Kya, and Tenzin to meditate by the lagoon for some tranquility and peace of mind. He reminded them of the importance of being open to new ideas and to look at things clearly and calmly. He helped them take on life as it came and have faith that they would always be led in the right direction by fate like a leaf being carried by the wind.

Katara also took the three to the lagoon on the southwest tip of the island, not so much to meditate but rather to observe the motion of ripples and the subtle movement of the water. She taught them to always have hope and to not be detached from their emotions. She wanted them to remain present in the moment, making sure they were aware of what they were feeling without being consumed by it- a delicate balance like the ebb and flow of the tides.

Once Bumi, Kya, and Tenzin each turned 14, their parents took them down to the South Pole for ice dodging, a Southern Water Tribe coming-of-age ceremony and rite of passage. As was tradition, their dad, Aang, was to take the three out on a wooden sailboat to navigate the treacherous and iceberg-filled waters of the Antarctic.

Though he wasn’t born in the Water Tribes, the airbender made sure to ask and learn all he could from Hakoda, Sokka, and Pakku so that he could pass on and perform those special father-child rituals.

No one was grinning wider than Aang when he awarded Bumi the Mark of the Brave for preventing the boat from capsizing, his heart had overflowed with joy giving Kya the Mark of the Trusted after she guided them through a narrow glacial pass, and he felt nothing but pure pride painting the Mark of the Wise on Tenzin’s freshly-tattooed arrow after his creative airbending solution to evade an ice blockade.

Despite his young age, Tenzin was an incredibly skilled airbender. Alongside Aang, he was one of the youngest masters in Air Nomad history, having earned his arrows in an extremely tear-filled ceremony a mere month before going ice dodging.

In fact, all of the kids were quite naturally talented at their respective disciplines. Bumi, a nonbender, took up many martial arts forms and combat styles, specifically “aikido” and “anipak.”

Aikido was an Air Nomad self defense technique. Though Aang taught all his children to use any form of fighting only as a last resort, he wanted to make sure they could protect themselves in a precarious situation. Aikido aligned with the Air Nomad beliefs of pacifism by relying on the principle of using your opponent's energy against them rather than being the aggressor.

Anipak, on the other hand, was the name given to the Southern Water Tribe style of combat. Bumi learned the ways of the boomerang and scimitar, a type of sword with a long curved blade, from his uncle Sokka and grandfather, who were delighted to teach him such a vital part of his heritage.

Both fighting techniques served Bumi well during his time in the United Forces and made him known as a great general, soldier, and leader, not just the child of two of the most powerful benders in the world.

As the only girl and spitting image of Katara, Kya learned healing and the Southern Water Tribe style of waterbending from her mother. Despite being a waterbender, she had the heart and spirit of an airbender like her father. She had a natural aptitude towards healing, much like Katara, but didn’t want to learn to fight. It wasn’t until Aang showed her how to incorporate airbending-like movements into her waterbending that she ever opened up to the idea.

Over the years, both parents taught her well, and, true to her nomadic roots, she went on to travel the globe and became a world-renowned healer who could most definitely hold her own in a fight.

Finally, the youngest of the three was Tenzin. With the weight of a whole nation on his shoulders, it was no secret that he held more of a connection to his Air Nomad side, but there was still significant Water Tribe influence.

Tenzin learned airbending from his father, Aang, but after years of watching his mother and sister waterbend, his movements became quite similar. He incorporated more redirection and punchier motions with his acrobatics to create a unique style of airbending that came from both cultures. These gave him an advantage while fighting and led to the thing that would earn him his mastery tattoos: the air wheel, inspired by a similar spinning water move Tenzin had seen Katara do.

The three cloudbabies had truly gotten the best of both worlds, and carried on their parents’ legacies by ushering the world into new eras of unity, peace, and prosperity.

Of course, despite all Aang and Katara’s efforts, there were still moments when Bumi, Kya, and Tenzin felt detached from their heritage. After all, they weren’t fully immersed in either society, having lived at Air Temple Island all their lives. Whether they were visiting their grandpa in the South or sitting in on an Air Acolyte lesson, there would often be a feeling of not quite belonging.

They were from the two rarest cultures in the world, and their combination had never been seen before. No one completely understood what it was like for them, not even each other. All three of them each had different relationships to each part of their culture, whether it was feeling closer to one or not feeling connected to either.

Katara and Aang did their best to assuage any fears or concerns they had, teaching them everything they wanted to know while also telling them that there was no pressure to learn, that they could go on to forge their own path and leave old traditions behind in the past, if that was what they wanted. And sometimes that reassurance helped, but sometimes it didn’t.

No family was perfect, and that held true for them. They had their fair share of problems, but at the end of the day, both Aang and Katara, as well as their children, were proud to be who they were. They were proud of their heritage, of where they came from, and of their unique set of traditions, and they wouldn’t give it up for the world.

So in spite of all the hardships, all the challenges, and all the struggles, with an abundance of love in their hearts for both each other and their children, Aang and Katara, two very different people from two very different nations, managed to create their own culture, a unique mix of Air Nomad and Southern Water Tribe traditions, just as beautiful and blended as their family.

[wonder-womans-ex]

‘Cause Boy I was Made for You

By wonder-womans-ex for @inloveoknutzy Sweater Weather secret santa exchange 2020

When Remus Lupin was eleven years old, he learned about soulmates. 

“Almost everyone gets a soulmark on their nineteenth birthday,” Mr. Holliday, his fifth-grade teacher, had explained. “A design, like a tattoo, on their left wrist. And out there, somewhere, someone will have a matching one.

“Some people don’t get them until later—no one knows why. Some don’t get them at all. It’s rare, but some people have more than one soulmate, or their soulmate changes. 

“Can anyone tell me why this might be?”

Trust a teacher to turn this into a lesson, Remus thought, and put up his hand. 

“Because people change, and the person who your soul matches could change, too?” 

“Very good, Mr. Lupin.” 

***

When Sirius Black was eleven years old, his parents kept him home from school. Instead, they sat him down at the dining room table—which was only ever used for special occasions; he couldn’t fathom why this might be considered one—and told him three things. 

“One,” Walburga said, bony fingers and long nails that reminded Sirius of talons drumming on the centuries-old wood, “your career comes first. Always. No matter who your soulmate turns out to be or how you feel about it, you are expected to make the choice that benefits yourself and your role in this family.” 

“Two,” Orion put in, “you are the only person who can prove who your soulmate is. If the reality is something that puts your future or your reputation at risk, lying is the best option. Remember, listen to your head, not your wrist.”

“Three—” this was Walburga again, “—your soulmark, when you get it, will remain covered at all times. No one else is permitted to see it. Are we clear?”

Sirius nodded. 

“Speak up!”

“Yes, Mother. Yes, Father.”

***

When Remus Lupin was thirteen years old, he had his first kiss. It was with a girl from his first aid course to whom he’d never really talked before, and it was wet and clumsy and didn’t taste very nice. In six years when he got his soulmark, he probably wouldn’t even remember her name. 

***

When Sirius Black was thirteen years old, he fell asleep in math class twice. He’d spent the entire night practicing—under his father’s instructions, of course—and the words in the textbook began to swim in front of his eyes. 

His mother slapped him across the cheek when she found out. Though he told no one for a very long time, that was when he started drinking coffee. 

***

When Remus Lupin was fifteen years old, he googled what if your soulmate doesn’t love you. 

***

When Sirius Black was fifteen years old, he found out what it was like to be famous. He enjoyed it, at first. There was so much to enjoy: the attention from his parents, the people who recognized him in public and smiled, and the hockey. 

The hockey was everything. 

He wouldn’t have thought so, but it was freeing, really, to be on the ice, doing what he loved, and know that the whole world was watching. It showed him he was enough—better than enough. He was the best. He’d been working towards being best his whole life, and now he finally got to feel good about it. What wasn’t to like about that?

Amycus Carrow, apparently. The first guy on his team to notice he was different. “Queer,” he whispered, as Sirius packed his gear up. 

Sirius wasn’t sure who he was trying to prove something to by sleeping with Janie Clearwater—Amycus or himself. 

***

When Remus Lupin was seventeen years old, he and his mom picked his little brother Julian up from daycare. Jules had a crude drawing of a star on his wrist in green washable marker. 

“My teacher has one! So I wanted one too!” 

Remus smiled, ruffling Julian’s hair. 

That night, he locked his bedroom door and looked up Sirius Black. Video after video of slapshots, passes, interviews, until he finally drifted off to sleep thinking that’s the sort of person I want to be loved by. 

***

When Sirius Black was seventeen years old, he had his first panic attack. He wasn’t sure what triggered it; he wasn’t sure how he pulled himself out, but he ran a thumb over the red marks where his fingernails had dug into his skin and tried not to cry.

***

When Remus Lupin was nineteen years old, everything went wrong. He woke up on his birthday to his wrist itching, and it took all his willpower not to look at it. He wasn’t quite ready yet. 

It was like Schrödinger’s cat, he reasoned—if he didn’t look, he couldn’t confirm what had been nagging at the back of his head for a while now. He couldn’t deny it, either, but it was better than nothing. 

Julian ran to hug him when he got downstairs, grinning to show off his gap-toothed smile. “I got you a present! Wanna know what it is?”

“I think,” Remus told him, “I’m about to find out anyway.”

Two weeks later, Fenrir Greyback approached him in the locker room. 

***

When Sirius Black was nineteen years old, he found himself signed to an NHL team he wasn’t supposed to be on and with a soulmark he could make neither head nor tail of: a silver wolf and black dog, intertwined like yin and yang, two crossed hockey sticks behind them. He remembered, distantly, being told that soulmarks were meant to make sense. 

The black dog was probably meant to represent him—black dog, dog black (he still hadn’t forgiven his parents for that one)—and the hockey sticks almost definitely had something to do with, well, hockey, but the wolf he had no idea about.  

***

It is now that these two stories meet. There is a split second, a fraction of time, and it seems as though the whole world is holding its breath. Will their paths cross, only to continue on their separate ways? Will they travel together for a time, before they are destined to part once more?

“Hello,” says Remus, and when Sirius holds his hand out coldly, their fate is decided. 

***

“Pots, c’mere a second!” 

Sirius is happy, almost. He’s got the team—he’s one of them, now, really and truly, but there’s something still off. He knows what it is, but he doesn’t want to. 

“I’m coming, Captain! Keep your head on!”

James comes to a stop in front of him. “Hi. What do you need?”

“Please poke Dumo.” A few of the guys chuckle, and this makes Sirius smile. He likes making other people laugh. 

“What, and you needed me for that? You couldn't do it yourself?”

Finn walks into the room, then, jersey half on. “Why do it at all? What did poor old Dumo do to you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Pascal says from where he’s sitting by his locker. “Respect your elders!”

“Elder, you say? Edging on retirement, are you?”

“Tais-toi!” 

Glancing over to Remus, Sirius allows the barest flicker of a smile to pass over his face. He gets one in return. 

“Alright, everyone get moving,” Coach tells them, opening the door and surveying where they’re all arranged, faces like guilty puppies. “You’re paid to play hockey, not sit on your asses and gossip. Practice starts in five minutes, or you run laps around the outside of the rink. In skates.”

Most of them groan, and Kasey downs a Powerade. “Well, boys, that’s my cue.”

James is the next to go, then Finn, then Logan. Leo and Talker continue their argument—something about George Harrison; Sirius isn’t really listening—out onto the ice, and Adam follows them with Olli and Nado close behind. Dumo winks at Sirius before he goes, too, and then it’s just the two of them. 

“What did he do?” Remus asks, after Sirius has laced and relaced his left skate three times. “Dumo, I mean.” 

“Nothing much. Just… well, if you must know, he put shaving cream in the fridge, once. Guess what I had on my waffles that morning.” 

“Waffles aren’t on your diet plan.”

“It was last year.”

“And you waited until now to get James to poke him?”

He knows Remus can see right through him. He always can. “Never question the methods of a hockey player, Loops.”

He meant it as a joke, but Remus stiffens for some reason, jaw clenching and eyes darting away. There’s an awkward pause before Sirius says, “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be.” 

“Right.” He clears his throat, trying in vain to find something else to say. He would be lying if he said Remus didn’t mean something to him—he knows it. But, after all, knowing something and acknowledging it are two very different things. 

Sirius runs the laps. 

***

That night, after practice, Remus is about to head for the bus station when Sirius steps in front of him. He’s walking backwards, even with his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, and Remus isn’t ashamed to say he’s a little impressed. (From a purely objective point of view, of course. It has nothing to do with Sirius and everything to do with the skill it would take, hypothetically, to do such a thing.) (He’s not fooling anyone, least of all himself.) 

“Want a lift?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“Well, we’ll just have to fix that.”

Remus rolls his eyes; he pretends to think about it. “All right,” he says, finally. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“I get to choose the music.”

Sirius lets out one loud ‘ha!’  It’s the most beautiful thing Remus has heard in a long time. (That would go well: “Oh, I’ve changed my mind. No need to put on the radio, I’ll be content if you just keep laughing.”) (There’s a reason people like him are off to the side, out of sight, instead of right in the spotlight with a microphone.)  

Remus is glad that Sirius waits until he’s parked outside Remus’s apartment building to bring up their earlier conversation. It says something that they say “So, about this evening—” in unison, but Remus isn’t going to think about that. 

“You go first,” Sirius tells him, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. “Please.”

“I suppose,” Remus says, slowly, “That I haven’t quite been honest with you. Any of you. I wasn’t always a PT.”

“Of course not. You’re my age. You can’t have always worked for the Lions—before that you were a teenager. A student.”

Remus shakes his head. “No. Before that I was a player.” 

“You played? Why’d you stop?”

“Bad hit,” he says, shrugging. “I’m over it. But I… I know what it’s like. The pressure. The rules. So, if you need someone to talk to… just remember—I know what the game does to a guy. You’re not the only one who’s been told to be something you aren’t by someone who forgets you’re a person off the ice, too.

“See you tomorrow, Cap. Thanks for the ride.” 

***

Sirius is probably the one person in history who has managed to burn eggs without even turning the stove on. 

“How on earth did that happen?” James asks when Sirius phones him. 

“I dropped them into the toaster—hey! Stop laughing! It could happen to anyone!”

“Yes,” he hears from the other end of the line, “But it didn’t. It happened to you.”

It takes exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds after hanging up on James for Sirius to decide to call Remus. Cooking failures might not have been quite what Remus meant when he said Sirius could talk to him, but it’s the problem at hand right now. 

(Remus laughs just as hard as James, but at least he has the decency to apologize for it afterwards.) 

“Well,” he says, once he’s calmed down, “What are you going to eat now?” 

“I’m not sure. Cereal?”

“Practice is in two and a half hours. You need more than that.”

“I’ll be—”

“If you end that sentence with ‘fine,’ I’ll take the laces out of your skates and strangle you with them. Do you want me to walk you through, I dunno, a pancake?” 

“Sure. What do I need?”

“Flour, butter, eggs, milk…”

Twenty minutes later Sirius is left with milk on his shirt, flour in his hair, butter practically everywhere else, and a microwave that won’t start. 

“I think,” he tells Remus, “I should have cereal.”

“You are going to eat a pancake if it’s the last thing I do—”

“Why don’t you just come over here and make it for me, then? I’m sure you’ll have more success.” 

He holds his breath for a moment, hoping this wasn’t a step too far, before Remus responds. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be over in… half an hour?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Click. 

The instant the call is over, Sirius opens the freezer and grabs one of the popsicles he secretly has stashed there. They’re not part of his diet plan, but he needs one. Then he takes a sponge and starts trying to get the butter out of the sole of his shoe. 

***

The first thought that crosses Remus’s mind is that Sirius’s tongue is purple from one of the popsicles he thinks no one knows about. If Remus kissed him, he’d probably taste like grapes. (The thought is banished from his mind the moment it enters.) 

“So,” he says, surveying the damage. “I am going to teach you how to make a pancake.” 

Sirius, it turns out, is infinitely better at following instructions when they’re simple, and the two of them work out a system quickly. Remus makes the pancake, Sirius gets the ingredients. It works. 

“That’s salt, not sugar. Try again.”

(Most of the time, at least.)

 “Really?” Sirius is squinting at the package. “Why doesn’t it say so?”

“It does. Right there.” 

“How am I supposed to read that?”

“You need glasses, Cap.” 

“I have glasses. I just never wear them.” 

“What?” This is news to Remus. Visions of Sirius with glasses and bed hair are swimming in front of his eyes. “Why?” 

A shrug. “I look stupid.” 

“I’m pretty sure you’d be drop-dead gorgeous in anything.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Remus realizes that, yes, he said that out loud. “I mean, all those fangirls certainly seem to think so.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Sirius clears his throat. 

“Anyway, pancakes! I think these are almost ready to cook—can you turn on the element?”

“The what now?” 

“The element? The coil on the stove?” 

“Should’ve just said that in the first place,” Sirius grumbles. “Fucking Americans.” 

“Fucking French.” 

Suddenly, Remus has a spatula pointed at his nose. He has to cross his eyes to see it properly. “Say that again; I dare you.”

“Fucking French?”

“Awright, that’s it! En garde, bitch!” 

And so begins the great whisk-vs-spatula duel of 2020. There is very little batter left once they’re done—in the bowl, at least. Most of it is on their clothes. 

They look at each other. “Cereal?” 

“...Cereal.” 

***

Kasey’s eyes go wide—almost comically so—when they show up to practice together. 

“Cap giving rides?” He says, and Sirius isn’t sure what accent he’s trying to fake but he ends up sounding like a scandalized duchess from the movie adaptation of an Austen knockoff. (Maybe that is what he was going for. It’s hard to know, with Kasey.) “I thought the day would never come.”

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.”

Remus’s elbow digs into Sirius’s rib cage. “You don’t want to say that. He tried to make me shut up this morning—it’s something I’ll never recover from.” 

Sirius almost laughs at the expression Remus makes when he realizes exactly how that sounds. 

“He dumped pancake batter down my shirt!” 

“You didn’t!” The look on James’s face is aghast. “First the eggs, now this—what will people think?” 

Finn looks up from his phone. “Eggs?” 

“Sirius here dropped the eggs he was going to eat for breakfast into his—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” 

Dumo slings an arm around his shoulders. “The price you must pay for telling James to poke me yesterday. Learn from this, mon fils. Learn.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Treachery!” 

Shrugging him off, Sirius grins. “I am the kitchen monster. Cross me and I will slaughter you in a food war.”

“Try me.” This is Logan speaking; Sirius hadn’t even realized he was there. 

“You’ve been warned!” 

***

“Look, there are twenty-two hockey players in this arena, and I ain’t one of them,” Moody says, and Remus can’t be sure, but he thinks Sirius looks at him. 

***

“You’re favouring your right leg,” Remus comments as soon as Sirius is off the ice. “Want me to take a look?”

“It’s fine, really—”

“I’ll try again. Want me to take a look?” 

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks, Loops.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

They walk into the PT room in businesslike silence, Sirius hoping all the way that one of them will break it. Neither does, and it isn’t until Remus has taken off both his skates for him, now expertly examining his left ankle, that he realizes what he should say. 

“You mentioned you played, last night.”

The finger tracing his Achilles tendon stills. “I did.” 

“Were you any good?” He knows, somewhere, that he’s entering forbidden territory. He can’t bring himself to care. 

“I’d like to believe so.”

“Be honest.” Sirens are blaring in his head. He keeps going. 

“There were rumours…” Remus bites his lip, glances away. “People said I was set for first.”

“What? How come you never said anything? C’mon, you need to play with us sometime, just scrimmage or something—”

“Maybe. That hit…”

“Right. God, I’m sorry, Rem.”

If Remus’s Adam’s apple bobs at the nickname, Sirius doesn’t notice. He certainly doesn’t try his best not to jump to conclusions. (Double negative; that’s a yes, a voice that sounds suspiciously like James’s says in his head. Shut up, he tells it.)

“It’s fine. Really. I just don’t like talking about it. And besides, I like this. Working with the team, even if I can’t be a part of it.”

“You are. A part of the team, I mean. Just as much as I am.”

“Sure.”

There’s another awkward pause before Remus clears his throat. “So, I’m gonna put on some anti-inflammatory gel because it’s a little swollen, but don’t get used to it. I want you to keep doing some stretches, not too much pressure. Capeesh?”

“What the fuck is a capeesh?”

“Just say it.”

“...Capeesh?”

“Awesome.” 

Remus leans forward towards him, their foreheads almost touching. Sirius’s breath catches. 

It’s over just as suddenly. The tube of extra-strength Voltaren is in Remus’s hand, and Sirius feels stupid for thinking he was going to—

Nope. Not thinking about that. 

When he feels tears start to prick at his eyes, he glances up at the fluorescent lights overhead; at least then he’ll have an excuse. There’s a moth resting on one. Its wings flutter once, twice, then go still. Fragile things, moths are—maybe it’s died, maybe it hasn’t. He could read into that, but he won’t. 

He jumps when the cool of the gel on Remus’s hands touches his foot. “Hey!” He yelps, looking quickly down. 

Sirius hates to succumb to cliches, but he would be lying if he was to say his heart doesn’t still. 

Because Remus has pulled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows, and his wrist is turned to the sky—to Sirius, who has seen that mark before somewhere. 

Somewhere. He’s kidding himself. He’s seen it every day whenever he bothers to look at his own soulmark, and he’s seeing it again now. 

“You know what, I’m fine,” he blurts out, shaking his ankle out of Remus’s grasp. “Thanks, though. See you later, Loops.” 

***

Remus stays there for a second, watching Sirius leave. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, and he’s not sure he wants to. 

When he gets up to leave, tossing the container towards the first aid kit on the bench and allowing himself a small smile when it lands perfectly inside, blood rushes to his head. He closes his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass. 

And then he crashes into Finn. 

“Whoa, sorry,” Remus says, stumbling backwards.

“Nah, don’t stress it. There’s just something I want you to check on.”

Remus is hit by a sense of deja vu. He wonders if Finn, too, is going to leave without explanation. He follows him back into the PT room, Finn gesturing for him to lock the door. 

Though he may be the shorter of the two, Remus knows it’s his job to be the bigger person. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Finn waits another moment before yanking one sleeve up to reveal three paw prints, each no bigger than a thumbnail, clustered together—one forest green, one golden, and one a deep navy blue. 

“Your soulmark.” Remus doesn’t understand. “What? Is something wrong?” 

“There’s three of them,” Finn says. “Which means there’s three of us.”

“You have two soulmates?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, Finn. It may not be common, but it’s not unheard of. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” 

“It’s not that. It’s… hey, you can’t tell anyone this, okay?”

“I know. Doctor-patient confidentiality, remember?”

“Right.” Finn takes a breath, squeezing his eyes closed. “What if I told you I know who they are? Or I think I do?” 

“Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically.”

“Well, I’d ask you if they knew.”

“And I’d say I don’t think so. One of them’s pretty stubborn—wouldn’t see love if it stood up on the ice and sang the national anthem—and the other isn’t nineteen yet, so he doesn’t—I mean wouldn’t—have his mark yet.” 

“His?”

Finn’s eyes widen. There is a pause before he nods, slowly. “Yeah. Got a problem?”

“Trust me, I’m the last person on earth who’d have a problem with something like that. Hypothetically.” 

This, at least, earns Remus a smile. “Are you…?”

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.” Another pause. “What if I told you, still hypothetically, that they were both on the team?” 

“Then I’d say get the fuck out of here and win them over before they start thinking you’ve forgotten about them.” 

Finn, smiling ear to ear, starts to leave. “Wait,” he says, hand on the doorknob. “You said you were…”

“Gay.”

“Yeah. Do—do you know who your soulmate is?”

Remus opens his mouth to say ‘no.’ He really does. But what comes out—when he takes into account the look of recognition on Sirius’s face when Remus had his sleeves rolled up; the understanding that had passed between them outside Remus’s building (god, that was just last night); the way they’ve always just clicked—is most certainly not ‘no.’ 

“Oh, fuck, I think I do,” he says, and he and Finn run out into the hallway together. 

Sirius’s car is pulling out of the parking lot when Remus arrives, out of breath, at the front doors of the arena. 

“I don’t know why he’s in such a hurry.” Remus jumps. He hadn’t heard James come to stand beside him. “Just packed up his gear at the speed of light and left. Didn’t even shower; he said he’d do it at home.”

So Sirius had been so appalled—disgusted, even—at Remus being his soulmate that he’d left without explanation, with barely even a goodbye. There was a pleasant thought. 

He turns so his back is against the door, sliding slowly down to sit on the floor. 

“Y’know,” James says, sitting next to him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you needed a hug.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Remus says, “James?”

“Yeah?” 

“I need a hug.” 

James gives the best hugs. Everyone says so. But until now, Remus has never been on the receiving end of a true James Potter hug—warm, strong, and friendly as hell. (“I want that on a t-shirt,” James says when Remus tells him so.)

But eventually, James has to go, too, and Remus heads back to the PT room. He passes Logan in the hall, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two-by-four. Maybe it’s Finn’s doing; he had mentioned that one of them was oblivious. Logan, Remus knows, is the definition of oblivious. 

***

“And I think that’s all,” Coach Weasley says, glancing around, “Unless anyone else has something to say? Moody? Cap? Loops?” 

“Actually, yes,” says Remus after a moment. “Checkups! Not naming names but Kris lied about his rib acting up so now all of you get to be interrogated.” 

Sirius swallows. He’s not anxious to be alone with Remus; not after yesterday. There’s no way there aren’t going to be questions. 

Kasey goes first, Remus taking just under five minutes to deem him ‘good to go.’ Kris, surprisingly, is only kept for eight, despite the claim of his ribs acting up again. Finn takes the longest—fifteen minutes—and as soon as he’s out he grabs Logan and Leo by the wrists and marches them off somewhere. Sirius’s turn comes last, right after Pascal’s, who gives him a knowing look as he enters.

“Hi,” Remus says, first aid kit nowhere in sight. “Sit down.” 

“Where?” Sirius gets only a shrug in response. 

He hesitates a moment, then sits on the floor, picking at the sole of his sneaker. 

“How are you feeling?” Remus asks suddenly.

“Fine. Ankle’s not bothering me any more.”

“No, I mean how are you feeling?”

Scoffing, he starts to stand up. “I’m not doing this.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.” 

“Sirius Black, sit your ass back down before I make you.” 

Sirius sits his ass back down. 

“Good. Now, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m… confused,” he says, trying to be honest without being specific. “And nervous. And I cried myself to sleep last night, which I haven’t done since I was like seventeen, so there’s that. But mostly I’m just really fucking mad.” 

“At me.” It isn’t a question. 

“No, not at you! At me! At the—” he gestures wildly. “—Universe, or whatever. Can I go now?” 

Remus doesn’t even acknowledge his request. “So you’re disappointed.”

“...Yeah.” 

“May I ask why?” 

“I’m pretty sure you fucking know why.” 

“Maybe I do. But I’d like you to explain it to me.” 

The stupid thing is that Sirius wants to talk about it. He really does. And Remus is the only person he can conceivably talk about it to. But he still chokes on his words when he says, anger burning his throat, “It was never supposed to be like this.” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Sirius practically screams. “Stop trying to fucking— psychoalalyze me or something, for fuck’s sake. You fucking asked, and I—” He tears his fingers through his hair, feeling his chest start to constrict. “Just stop talking!” 

The echoes of his shouts fade out too quickly, and the only thing worse than the voices is the sound of his breathing getting faster and faster. Remus’s hand twitches, as though he wants to touch him but thinks better of it.

“It was always supposed to be someone different. Someone faceless; nameless. Someone I could run away from. I can’t fucking run away from you, Remus.

“I always thought I could lie. That I could—pretend, or something. Just keep hiding. It was supposed to be someone I could hide from, because I’ve spent my whole life fucking hiding and that’s all I know how to do. It was never supposed to be someone I could fall in love with.” 

There’s a choked noise from where Remus is sitting on the bench, but nothing else. Sirius refuses to look at him. 

“And I just—I just fucking hate this, because all I’ve been told is that hockey comes before my dreams. And that’s made sense until now because until now hockey was my dream, but now there’s you. Yeah.” 

Remus, to his credit, waits until Sirius’s breathing has calmed down and he’s furiously wiped the tears from his eyes to speak. “What do you need?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean forget everything. Forget your family, forget the team, forget me—what do you need?  

“Right now? For the rest of my life? Because those are two very different things.” 

“Let’s start with now. Can I do anything for you? Can you do anything for yourself?” 

“I need a hot chocolate.” 

***

They wait until everyone else has gone, and then make their way outside to Sirius’s car. There’s only one other in the parking lot—a grey Toyota Remus thinks belongs to Nado, or maybe Kris. He’s not sure why he thinks it matters, because it doesn’t. 

Silence hangs around them the whole four blocks to the nearest Tim Horton’s. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale. This doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 

That doesn’t stop Remus from hoping. 

He knows it’s wrong; of course he does. It’s Sirius’s choice, in the end, because Sirius is the one who will be most affected. His career, his life—all on the line if he decides to trust whatever plan the world has in store for them. It’s not like that for Remus. Not anymore. 

There’s a parking spot right outside the front door. Sirius pulls into it, but he doesn’t get out right away. He glances around, makes sure there’s no one immediately in sight, and then he looks down to where his hands now rest in in his lap. Slowly, he pulls up his right sleeve to expose, bit by bit, his soulmark. 

“I don’t know why I never guessed it could be you—Wolfy McWolf Wolf.” 

Remus feels his lips twitch upwards into something resembling a smile. “I could say the same, Dog Black.” 

When he puts his hand on the console, Sirius rests his on top of it. It’s not much. 

But it’s something. 

***

Sirius looks longingly at the Boston cream doughnuts. “Please. I haven’t had one in so long.” 

“Think again, Mr. I’m-on-a-diet-plan.” 

He’s not surprised. What was he thinking, having his PT as his soulmate? (Well, he wasn’t. He didn’t get to choose. But, he thinks to himself, the point still stands.) 

“I’ll have a medium hot chocolate, please, a plain toasted bagel,” Remus looks at him and sighs. “...And a Boston cream doughnut.” 

When the food is set down on the pickup counter, Remus snatches it before Sirius has a chance to. “Hey, this is my doughnut.” 

Sirius pouts. 

“You’re cute. Here.” He tosses him the brown paper bag, and Sirius removes his prize carefully. He‘s going to eat every piece of chocolate glazing if it kills him. 

Back out in the car—this is a conversation neither of them is willing to have in the public dining area—Remus chews on his bagel thoughtfully. Sirius tries and fails not to swear when his hot chocolate burns his tongue.

“Shit!” 

Remus glances over at him. Their eyes meet for a moment, then both look away. “So,” Sirius says after a while. “I think we need to talk.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence, then—

“You go first,” they say at the same time, and laugh. Some of the tension is broken. 

Sirius reaches hesitantly to where Remus’s arm rests between the seats. He doesn’t need to voice his question—Remus sees it in his eyes; nods. 

Up close, he can see that there are a few differences between their marks. Nothing that could possibly mean they aren’t soulmates—just the discolouring on the dog’s tail; the angle of one of the sticks; the faded white gash that stretches from one side of Remus’s wrist to the other, separating the wolf’s head from its body. Sirius doesn’t quite know what he’s doing when he presses his lips to the scar. 

When he looks up, he sees that Remus is trying not to cry. And that’s when he makes his decision. 

“I want this,” he says, voice soft but sure. “All of it.”

[sokkas-honour]

An unexpected but welcomed visitor - Mako x kyoshi!reader

summary: for the lovely @biqherosix ‘s makyoshi writing challenge and the prompt used was Grandma Yin

word count: 2k

taglist (always open): @biqherosix @draqondance

notes: no tw here i believe, just a girl not knowing what the hell to name a fic and it’s unedited so my apologies

You stared out of Mako’s apartment window, watching the clouds slowly move across the sky above Republic city. You sat on the couch wondering when your boyfriend would return from his little rendez-vous with Kai on Air Temple Island. He’d promised the young boy that he’d help him set up a picnic for Jinora which was an absolutely adorable idea. Mako being close with the airbending monster, considering all the time they spend together arguing about obscure subjects. In theory, he did seem like the perfect choice to help him, you would have disagreed though considering he has a horrible track record with his romantic attempts going smoothly, which added to his charm in your opinion, but you hoped that he’d prove useful to Kai.

You had let yourself into the apartment what seemed like an hour ago. Bolin was visiting Zaofu with Opal which meant that his place was free for a date night hosted by the firebender, well more like a date afternoon but he still hadn’t shown up. He had promised to cook dinner for you and then you’d both play a game of pai sho with lots of cuddling and relaxing in between. You’d both had pretty busy schedules in the last couple of days with his job keeping the streets safe and your Kyoshi duties so a whole afternoon of just pure escape sounded amazing.

The sound of the door to the apartment slowly opening scared you at first but you quickly jumped out of your spot on the couch in excitement. 

“You’re finally here!” You exclaimed as you quickly ran to the bathroom to make sure you looked presentable. You called out to who you thought was your boyfriend from the washroom. “What took you so long Mako? Is Kai ready to absolutely blow Jinora’s socks off without airbending?”

When no one answered but you heard footsteps advancing into the apartment you closed the door to the bathroom and went to grab the closest thing to you to use as a weapon. You looked at the counter but only found someone’s toothbrush and since Bolin wasn’t in the city it meant it belonged to the firebender. As disgusting as it felt to use your boyfriend’s toothbrush as a weapon, you needed something fast. Before getting ready to exit the room to face whoever was outside you spotted someone’s comb and planned to use it as some sort of boomerang. With the toothbrush in close proximity, the comb in one hand, you went to open the door when an elderly voice emerged from the other side.

“Mako? Is that you? I hope I’m not too early. You might want to rethink the idea of leaving your door unlocked, stupid Mako, you take that after your dad.”

Your eyes widened as you opened the door, guard down at the voice that belonged to someone’s grandma. You still kept the comb in a tight grip as you opened the door. The newcomer made a sound that made you jump and throw the comb as you intended too. The now empty hand quickly went back to grab the toothbrush and you emerged from the bathroom when you heard a little yelp.

“My, my, Mako, where are your manners?” And then it hit you, you knew that voice, it belonged to Mako’s grandma, Yin. She looked at you with wide eyes and a shocked expression. “You’re not my Mako are you?”

You shook your head, surprised that she didn't recognize you. You had met when she was staying at the Sato estate and Wu had to hide during the whole Kuvira problem.

“No, I’m his girlfriend, we’ve met before.” You smiled slightly, cheeks turning a bit red when her gaze landed on the toothbrush that was in your hand. You shyly put it on a nearby shelf. “I was one of Wu’s bodyguards, we met when he was staying with you for a short period of time?”

She frowned, analysing you from your head to your toes, making you feel very on the spot and somewhat self conscious. She had a very puzzled look on her face as she just stared at your face in confusion.

“His majesty, prince Wu, only had Mako and some beautiful girl in a warrior’s uniform as a bodyguard. You don’t look like you’d be a bodyguard.”

“I am that warrior girl though, I’m a kyoshi warrior, I’m just out of my uniform.” Now it was your turn to be slightly confused at her words, you remembered not wearing makeup the one time you met so wouldn't she be able to recognise you?

“Oh, that’s very possible though you are very muscular for a woman.” She stated very bluntly and you suddenly regretted just wearing a simple tank top and casual pants for your date, not that you expected to see your boyfriend’s grandmother before even seeing him for the day.

“Uh, thanks?” Your thanks sounded more like a question, unsure how to respond to what you thought was a compliment from the elderly woman. You watched as she slowly made her way back to where you were sitting just a couple of minutes ago.

“Come, sit.” She looked at you with a smile and patted the spot next to her on the couch, inviting you to sit down. You made your way to your previous resting spot and took your place next to her.

“Please, tell me about my Mako. I haven’t seen him in a while and didn’t know he had a girlfriend, I’d love to hear about you two’s relationship.” Her warm, inviting smile made you relax which made you realise your shoulders were a bit tense from wondering what she’d say.

“Oh, well Mako and I met working for prince Wu-” You had barely started before she interrupted you, taking you aback.

“I don't want to know about how you two met, that's just boring. Tell me about a moment that makes you smile whenever you think about it, tell me how he makes you feel.” She stated as if it was the most obvious thing ever and made you feel a tad bit stupid for wanting to start at the beginning.

“Oh well, there’s this one time a couple of weeks ago that I’ll never forget.” You started with a smile on your face as the memory of the story you were about to tell came to you. You continued, a slight euphoric feeling was laced with your words which Grandma Yin most likely picked up on. “I’m sure you know that Mako and Bolin used to be a part of a pro bending team, their whole lives revolve around it for a while. I didn't meet the brothers till long after their pro bending careers had met but they’ve always told me stories about how exhilarating their matches were. I’ve only ever heard them through radio and they never really interested me until I found out the guy I loved the most used to be a part of a pretty reputable team before traveling the world with the avatar. So, Mako decided that as a surprise, he’d take me to see a pro bending match, it was the Laogai Lion Vultures versus the Ember Island Eel Hounds.”

You paused for a second to see if she seemed at all interested and to your surprise, she looked as if she was listening intently so you proceeded to continue your story. 

“Mako knew this guy from the Laogai Lion Vultures, their earthbender Ruohar, and managed to get him to let us see the match from the best seats in the house, the last spot where players go before being brought to the main platform. We had a direct view on the game. Before the match started, Mako told me a couple of stories of Bo and him, what they’d do before a game, a time they both messed up that they found hilarious, their old member Hasook. It was just so nice to see Mako smiling fondly at memories and just opening up about his past. Neither of us are great at that but seeing him just being nostalgic and saying absolutely everything that went through his mind just made my heart warm. Anyway, the game started and I could barely hear what the commentator was saying because of how much Mako was yelling at both teams. You couldn't go two seconds without him screaming ‘You had that!’ or ‘I could beat them in my sleep!’ and everything in between. Every once in a while hed realise what he was doing and would turn to ask me if it was bothering me and of course it wasn't, seeing Mako being passionate about something just brings me so much joy, he’d even show me how’d he do a play differently when he was really mad at the Lion Vulture’s execution. When the match was finally over and we’d congratulated the Lion Vultures on their win, he gave me a tour of the arena, showed me where he used to train, where he used to live and just let every single one of his memories come back. I’ve probably already said this but just seeing Mako be so open and just so giddy about his stories and anecdotes really made it a date to remember.” You finished, a pleased and content grin graced your features as you still felt stuck in your memory, finding it hard to get yourself out of that moment.

“That sounds absolutely delightful my dear, it makes me happy to see that my Mako is making you so happy.” She looked at you with a soft gaze.

“I have another fun story if you’d like?” You volunteered to tell another story, maybe even multiple if she wanted to because of how much you enjoyed just being able to gush about your partner and to your luck, she nodded eagerly.

You told stories that jumped to your mind from when Mako and you first went on a date, your last date together and everything in between. Before long, you heard the door open again as the sun was slowly setting out the window but you were both so engrossed in the story that you were telling that you failed to notice whoever entered the apartment.

“Y/n? Grandma?” The newcomer just so happened to be the subject of your tales and he seemed very confused as to why his grandmother and his girlfriend were in his home.

“Oh Mako! It’s so good to see you! I came by to tell you something but it seems like I’ve forgotten. I won’t keep you two lovebirds for too long.” Yin was the first to greet him as she stood up to hug her grandson who returned the gesture happily.

“Y/n, it was lovely to meet you, hopefully we can do this over tea sometime?” She suggested and you eagerly nodded, excited to share more stories of your stupid boyfriend and hopefully you’d learn a thing or two about his father if you stuck at it long enough.

You bid each other goodbye and watched as she closed the door behind her before turning back to your boyfriend.

“I’m just going to assume that something went wrong with Jinora and Kai. You can tell me all about it while you make that dinner you promised.” You said smugly, giving him a hug as he groaned, realising he’d forgotten all about your date.

“Shit y/n, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot about tonight. I was gushing about Jinora and Kai with Pema and got caught up, I’m so sorry.” You simply smiled, having forgiven him as soon as his grandmother and you started talking. 

“What happened between my grandmother and you? You both seem extremely happy.” He asked, suspicious of what embarrassing things you might’ve told her but you simply shook your head and teased. “What happens with Grandma Yin, stays with Grandma Yin my dear.”

He rolled his eyes, setting his head on your forehead as you both stayed in each other’s embrace as his eyes trailed around the room and found some misplaced toileterry.

“Hey, why is my comb on the ground and why the hell is my toothbrush on the bookshelf?”  

[sweetsakusa]

Dimples and Laughter

Description: Sakusa has dimples. That’s it. This is what we are talking about today.

Disclaimer: I saw a post with something similar to this where they talked about Sakusa having dimples and I forgot who did it so when I find it, I’ll tag them. Just know that’s my inspiration for this. Anyways, enjoy my first post!

Genre: Fluff, sorta marriage and parenting au, drabble, slice of life, 

Character Pairing: Timeskip Sakusa x Reader + your nine month old daughter, Rina

Warnings: none (unless babies count as a trigger warning lmao I’m really sorry), SAPPY AND ROMANTIC AF

A/N: I’m so obsessed with him

Word Count: 1.5k words

-

You roll over to your side, groaning as the sun’s rays penetrate through your eyelids, stirring from your restful slumber. You reach to feel the side of the bed where Kiyoomi normally sleeps, the sheets now cool to the touch from abandonment. You sigh into his pillow, the subtle scent of his cologne wafting into your nose. You want to stay there forever, but most of all, you want his strong arms thrown around your waist, burying into his toned chest, the warmth emanating off his frame in waves and warming your body. 

You feel yourself growing bored without his presence. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, trudging to the bathroom and turn the nob in the shower to get the hot water running. You throw your clothes into the hamper before hopping in. After showering, you grab some clothes from your closet and slip on a pair of sweats and t-shirt before tying up your damp hair. As you walk down the hall to begin breakfast, a fit of muffled laughter comes from behind a cracked door of the nursery.

Curiosity bubbles inside your chest and you tiptoe closer, leaning against the cool wood. Peeking through the small crack, the sight of your husband sitting on the sparkling clean floor, playing with your daughter, appears. A smile creeps onto your face as he holds her and lifts her up into the air and pulls her back down onto his lap. Her squeals of laughter fills your ears and Kiyoomi can’t hold back a deep chuckle, gentle and fluid, a flash of a smile flickers through his quiet laugh. Your eyes scan his handsome face, the beautiful head of curly, dark locks, obsidian eyes, his defined jawline, and the two moles above his right eyebrow only accentuates his beauty. 

You continued to watch your husband play with your daughter as another squeal of laughter falls from her lips. Slowly, but surely, the small, fond smile grows into a grin, full of genuine joy, and stretched ear to ear.

His smiles were infrequent. Occasionally, you will receive a smirk or a lipped smile that shows the tiniest indent of dimples, but other than that, Kiyoomi Sakusa rarely smiled.

Your breath hitches, absolutely dumbfounded. He’s grinning. Out of four years of dating, three years of marriage and almost a year with a child, you had never seen him beam with pure happiness until now. The dimples hidden behind his calm, nonchalant expression emerge. He has dimples, the indents on his cheeks so prominent that you are tempted to stick skittles in them and convinced that they will stay.

Understanding the rarity of this small moment, you stand there, lingering by the door and taking in every second that brilliant smile is on his face. The last thing you wanted was forget the smile that brought out the divots in his cheeks. It was like falling in love with him all over again, the feeling strangely familar, yet still foreign. Your mind spaces out, your heart swells with love, threatening to burst through your chest because your poor heart can’t take it. How is it possible that you can fall in love with him more than you already were? 

He’s difficult to read under his calm and collected demeanor. Everything is out of the blue with him, but he never fails to make you fall for his beautiful unpredictabilities. When he kisses your forehead through his mask after coming home, showering immediately and once he does, his lips will always be found on yours; when he mutters, “thank you, love,” when you hand him a cup of coffee or tea; when he purposely places your favorite mug on the top shelf of the cabinet so you have to ask him to grab it for you and he gets the chance to kiss your shoulder or cheek and hug you from behind; when you catch him staring at you and he doesn’t look away, he has a fond look of awe in his eyes, unwavering, and heat rushes up your face. 

The unpredictability of Kiyoomi only makes you hopelessly fall in love with him. It never fails to make your stomach flip at the small acts of affection he gives you, undeniable adoration he shows to you and to you only. It hits you when you least expect it and it's a wonderful surprise that renders you tongue-tied and you try to say the words, but your mind is in too much of a jumbled mess that they don’t fall past your throat. It was moments like these that left you star-struck and utterly speechless. You swear he’s going to be the death of you.

You decide to finally make your presence known. You nudge the door open, careful not to disturb their peace. 

“Good morning, Kiyoomi,” you whisper as you gently shut the door behind you. 

He lifts his head at your voice, a flicker of a smile still teasing his lips when he finally lets his face relax. “Good morning, darling.” The pet name always sends tingles across your body, making your toes curl and your heart ache.

Your daughter is still paying attention to him, her arms making motions in the air, trying to get his attention so he can lift her again. He obliges and the sweet ring of hysteric giggles fill the room once again.

You sit down next to him, your daughter’s large eyes on you now as Kiyoomi set her back down on his lap, his large hands holding her gently and rubbing her back in soothing patterns. His practicality and carefulness made parenthood look good on him.

“Good morning, Rina,” you say sweetly as you stroke the dark bunch of hair she inherited from her father.

She babbles as if trying to come up with a construction of sentences. You place a few kisses on her head, smiling at her nonsense words. Out of the corner of your eye, Kiyoomi lets his face break into a fond smile. You smile even wider.

“It seems to me that you have been using her as a dumbbell to workout,” you joke. He has been taking more days off to help you raise your daughter and she has grown even more fond of him. 

He quirks an amused eyebrow. “She isn’t heavy enough to be a weight.”

You roll your eyes. “I know that.” You hadn’t forgotten his taut, muscular figure, toned with muscle and minimal fat. 

“Have you eaten anything yet?” You ask as your thumb creates circles on his forearm, coiled with veins and tendons.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ll start breakfast right now.” You start to stand up, but his calloused hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back. 

“Can I have a kiss?” He asks gingerly, his hand caressing your jaw. It was adorable when he asked for affection and it wasn’t often when he asked.

You give him more than just a kiss. You lean in, your hand rests on his shoulder and kisses him a few times. Each time you pull away, you smile against his lips as you lean in for another one.

“I love you.” The declaration of love whispered against his lips as you placed another kiss there to seal it, let it seep into his skin, make it known to him you meant every word.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, his thumb cradling your cheek.

You break your loving gaze from your husband to your daughter, her eyes wide as she stares at the both of you, mouth slightly agape as her brain tries to register the tender action her parents just shared. Kiyoomi’s ears are brushed with a pink tinge. Still blushing after almost being together for almost ten years? You want to say, but you bite your lip to prevent them from falling.

You laugh, light and airy as you kiss her forehead. “And I love you, Rina.”

You lift yourself from the floor, walking to the door and closing it behind. You try your best to suppress the stupid grin on your face, but fail miserably. You walk to the kitchen to make yourself coffee. You open the cabinet to get your mug and realize Kiyoomi put it on the top shelf once again. Attempting to get the mug yourself is a lost cause because he absolutely forbids it in the case you might hurt yourself. 

You smile, but it falls from your face when your jaw begins to tense, letting you know you have been smiling so much to the point it hurts. Instead, you just let your lips tug at the ends. 

You fervently wish he never stops surprising you. Routine is a part of Kiyoomi’s lifestyle and he enjoys the familiarity and repetition; it brings him comfort. It is easier for him to follow a paved road than a gravel path. How much of a surprise it was for him to include you into his routine and take the beaten path instead so he can see the flowers while walking side by side with you.

Repetition and changeability contrasts with each other like black and white, yin and yang, like the cherry blossom petals dancing in the spring air and the autumn leaves floating in the cool fall breeze, but when they are put together, it creates something beautiful and Kiyoomi is the embodiment of that strange yet beautiful combination.