#been inking a lot the past week i forgot how to paint

[attyrocious]

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Lepidopterophobia Prt. Two

Shinobu Kochou x She/Her Reader

A/N: People seemed to like that oneshot so I made a part two! Here is a link to part one if you want a refresher or something (Link). Word Count: ~11,329 (Again, holy shit. I do not know how I wrote so much. I blame the demon encounter that I forced myself to put in this fic and the totally unnecessary OC interaction lol) Hope you enjoy!

Shinobu was getting worried now. It may have been hiding behind sweet smiles and teasing words, but the worry was there nevertheless, churning deep within her like an undercurrent of a seemingly calm ocean cost.

She and (Y/n) had made it a habit to write each other at least once a week since they met about six months ago.

Such letters always made Shinobu feel extremely happy and giddy. Even the estate residents could determine when a letter came simply based on body language alone, although the melodic humming also helped on that front.

Giyuu had even witnessed the change first hand by chance one day and he admitted that it was the freakiest thing he had ever experienced. Especially when she walked past him and actually gave him a compliment before continuing to hum and glide down the hall. Giyuu did not know how to conduct himself in this Shinobu’s presence.

However this week was different, Mochi had not arrived, there was no letter. Shinobu quelled the initial disappointment and anxiety. Surely (Y/n) just had a tiring mission and fell asleep while drafting her message. It wouldn’t have been the first time after all. But when the second week was nearing its end, Shinobu was starting to crack.

She was admittedly a bit unfocused. Her honey sweet tone was still there, but her speech was sharp and clipped. She spent more time in her lab doing research well into the early hours of the morning, becoming more unkempt as another new dawn brought no news.

Aoi made sure Shinobu would eat. She also made it clear that the Hashira needed to be taking better care of herself in general as the young woman sulked her way into the infirmary.

“You’re worrying the younger girls because you look like you’ll collapse at any second and Kanao might not say it, but you’re worrying her too. You’re causing us all distress,” Aoi had told her, not pulling any punches. “(Y/n)-san would not be happy to see you like this.”

“Well, she isn’t here now, is she? She hasn’t been here since her first visit. Why should I care what makes her happy?” Shinobu’s seraphic voice laced with poison replied, an insincere smile painting her lips.

Aoi scoffed and rolled her eyes. “If only I knew, Shinobu-sama. I don’t quite understand you’re attraction to her myself. Maybe you should try writing her again.”

“I’ve already sent two letters. I’m not so desperate for attention to try for a third,” Shinobu responded rigidly. “My crow has always come back empty handed so I know someone is getting my messages. What more is there to do?”

“Didn’t she say in her last letter that demon attacks were becoming more frequent in her sector? Just give her some time. She isn’t that big of an idiot to ignore you on purpose.”

“I’m growing tired of this conversation, Aoi,” Shinobu sighed. “I’ll be going to the lab and I do not wish to be disturbed.”

“As you wish, Shinobu-sama. I’ll send someone over with your dinner later though, and you better eat it.” Aoi replied as Shinobu walked out.

Kanao came to stand by Aoi’s side and flipped her coin, heads. “I have not seen Shinobu-neesan seem so visibly upset in a long time.”

“Yes, she must really like (Y/n)-san a lot, huh?” Aoi frowned, making another bed.

Kanao flipped her coin again, but remained silent this time around.

“Well, that idiot better respond soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

***

Shinobu drowned herself in her research well into the night. Balancing equations, messing with beakers and microscopes and reading copious amounts of botany and organic chemistry texts. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the faint tapping at the door that led out onto the engawa from her lab.

The tapping persisted almost frantically as Shinobu inked down some notes until a loud squawking caused her hand to jerk across the parchment and ruin her page. She almost didn’t care though, she leapt from her chair and slid the door open with enough speed for it to clack against the stopper hard enough to echo across the garden.

She beckoned the familiar raven to take perch on her arm, cooing and lightly stroking the feathered breast of the large bird with a sincere smile and hopeful eyes.

“Good evening Mochi,” she cooed softly. “What have you and (Y/n) been up to these past few weeks?”

“(Y/n), (Y/n)!” The bird mimicked, enjoying the head scritches Shinobu was supplying him. He held a leg out toward Shinobu and she deftly untied the parchment from his leg.

“Thank you for this, rest here for awhile. I’m sure my crow wouldn’t mind sharing some snacks with you.”

Mochi cawed excitedly, flapping his way into the corner with Shinobu’s crow who seemed a bit miffed by the disturbance, but ultimately did not mind the presence of the larger bird she had come to know over the last few months.

Shinobu sat back in her writing desk and unfurled the parchment with a slight tremor running through her hands. As she began to read through the letter, concern laced through her features. (Y/n)’s tone was there. The words came off like hers, but the handwriting was unfamiliar, completely off. Each character was shaky, and stray ink splattered the parchment throughout the letter. There was no way (Y/n) actually wrote this.

The suspicious letter contained an apology for tardiness that was spun in a way that made it rather humorous and light without downplaying the seriousness of the apology, a skill Shinobu only knew (Y/n) to have mastered so well. The message continued on to talk about the high number of demons still running rampant in the area and addressed points made in Shinobu’s previous letters, but she still couldn’t get over the hand writing, it just didn’t sit right with her.

“Mochi, did (Y/n) write this?” Shinobu asked, knowing she was asking a lot of the bird to actually try to hold a conversation in a human language.

“No write, can’t write,” the bird croaked while happily eating some berries.

“Why can’t she write?” Shinobu asked, her brow wrinkled with concern.

“Forgot, can’t say, not supposed to,” the raven replied nervously.

“Mochi, what happened, is she hurt?”

Mochi shifted uncomfortably. “Healing, will be okay. Resting.”

“Is that why she didn’t reply sooner, she got hurt?” Shinobu was mostly just saying that to herself as she began eyeing one of her medicine cabinets intently. She walked over to it and opened the cabinet doors now going into full-on healer mode. “She hasn’t said anything in two weeks so it must be serious,” she turned back to the raven who jumped at the intensity of Shinobu’s gaze and attempted to hide behind the much smaller crow. “Tell me what happened Mochi. I need to know what I must bring.”

“Bring?”

“Yes, now how bad she Mochi, please focus.”

“Arms broken. Head hurts. Feverish. I worry, but she says fine.”

“Fine she says, I’ll show her fine,” Shinobu muttered as she packed the necessary materials, a vein protruding angrily from her forehead. “I need to grab some other supplies from the infirmary, don’t move a muscle.” she commanded before practically teleporting out of the lab.

Shinobu grabbed additional medicines and medical supplies, rustling about the cabinets like a tornado until Kanao came in with an inquisitive sheen to her eyes.

Still unnoticed by her adoptive sister, Kanao flipped her coin and only when she was sure of the result, she spoke.

“Nee-san, are you going somewhere?”

“Oh, Kanao,” Shinobu spun around, “I’m glad you’re still up. I’m going on a mission for a few days, maybe longer. Take care of things while I’m gone please.”

Kanao stared blankly for a moment before flipping her coin once more. Looking back up at Shinobu she asked, “Is this about (Y/n)-san?”

Shinobu faltered in her movements slightly, almost undetectable, but not to Kanao’s sharp eyes.

“How could you tell?” Shinobu smiled almost sheepishly, a faint dusting of pink coloring her cheeks. A sign she knew she had been caught.

“You never bring that much medical supplies on missions for simple demon slaying,” Kanao stated plainly. “I know you have been worried about (Y/n)-san lately. Aoi said it was only a matter of time before you took matters into your own hands.”

“I can’t get much past my smart and observant girls, can I?” Shinobu gave her usual default smile, though it looked a bit more prideful than usual. She closed up the final cabinet and secured her medicinal bag over her shoulder. When she approached Kanao she squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “Look out for each other, make sure Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo keep up with their studies as well. I’ll try to be back in two days tops, but it may take longer if (Y/n) insists on being difficult. Goodbye for now, my little sister,” Shinobu released Kanao and waited patiently as the girl looked at the coin in her hand.

“Bye Nee-san, be safe,” Kanao said after a moment. Shinobu’s smile grew especially warm when Kanao had decided to speak on her own without the aid of the coin. With one last nod, Shinobu left the infirmary with a new energy about her.

***

Shinobu ran through the trees until dawn, following after Mochi as he flew above. As much as she wanted to get there as soon as possible, the many sleepless nights over the past two weeks had taken a toll on Shinobu’s physical state. She admonished herself for being so careless. How could she take care of (Y/n) if she couldn’t even take care of herself? She called for Mochi to stop for a moment and the unusual duo took roost on one of the trees thick and gnarled branches.

“How much further?” Shinobu asked, trying to disguise a yawn hidden behind a small hand.

“Be there by midday if rest short,” the bird replied.

Shinobu nodded, drinking a bit of water and stretching before resigning herself to continue on despite her muscles’ protests.

When the sun was at its highest and hottest was when Shinobu saw the weathered home Mochi was circling over. On closer inspection she recognized the insignia of the Wisteria Houses and she couldn’t help but quietly scoff to herself.

“Oh? Hello young lady, how may I help you?”

Shinobu turned and found herself looking down at a frail old woman who was even smaller than her. Realizing she had been staring, Shinobu began to answer the patient woman.

“Good afternoon, I believe you are currently looking over the demon slayer (Y/n), is that correct?”

“(Y/n)-chan? Ah yes, poor girl. She had a rough mission awhile back, she’s lucky she was with a team that night or I’m not sure she would have made it. She’s resting now I believe, but please do come in,” the old woman replied with the sweet raspiness of someone who has lived a full life and turned back towards the house, her hands trembling as she pushed the door open. She ushered Shinobu into a chair and fixed some tea for the exhausted Hashira who graciously accepted the cup.

“It is a rare honor to have a Hashira in my home, may I ask what brings you here?”

“I’m here for (Y/n),” Shinobu answered, assuming that the old woman had simply forgotten already due to her age.

“Yes, is she training under you, a Tsuguko perhaps?”

“Ah, no. She isn’t training under me,” Shinobu denied.

“I apologize, I suppose I just don’t understand then, why a Pillar of the demon slayers is taking time out of her surely busy schedule to tend to a slayer of a lower level who isn’t even under her instruction.” the old woman questioned.

“I’m afraid that is none of your concern.” Shinobu answered with a tight lipped smile. Perhaps this old woman wasn’t as senile as she had previously believed.

“I’m sorry deary, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It’s just that I saw you hopping after (Y/n)-chan’s raven and I thought you may have been the recipient of her sweetly composed letter. She asked me to write it for her you see. She had been fretting over what to say for days the poor thing,” the old woman tutted, raising her own teacup to her lips with a shaky grip.

“I see,” Shinobu nodded. “You are correct though, the letter was for me. That is how I knew that I should come.”

“That’s wonderful, Insect Hashira.” the old woman smiled.

“Hisa-san?”

Shinobu turned expectantly in the direction of the voice she hadn’t heard in months, unaware of the knowing smile the old woman was directing at her.

“Well, come with me young lady. The patient is in no shape to leave her bed,” Hisa explained motioning fo Shinobu to follow her down the hallway. Hisa approached another door and gave it a courtesy knock before sliding the door open.

“Hello (Y/n)-chan, how nice of you to join the world of the living again and look who’s here to visit you...”

Hisa made room for Shinobu to enter the room and the Hashira could feel butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she stepped forward.

“Shinobu!” (Y/n)’s eyes gleamed. She tried to sit up, but Shinobu glided over and pushed her back on the futon.

“Hello (Y/n), we have a lot to talk about,” Shinobu said with a smile, however the dark aura did not go unnoticed by (Y/n) as the heavily bandaged girl shifted her eyes nervously to another corner of the room.

“I’ll give you two some space. Have fun with your girlfriend, (Y/n)-chan,” Hisa waved before shutting the door behind her.

“Sh- We’re not- She’s not my girlfriend!” (Y/n) called back, clearly flustered.

“Oh my (Y/n), have you been embellishing the nature of our relationship?” Shinobu gasped, hiding a teasing smile behind her hand, feigning shock.

“No, of course not!” (Y/n) shook her head, trying to look anywhere that wasn’t Shinobu. She shook her head a bit too furiously, causing her to wince and groan.

Shinobu’s face turned serious as she inspected the bandages wrapped around (Y/n)’s head. Her arms were also tightly bound, slings kept the arms crossed firmly over (Y/n)’s stomach. Shinobu pushed (Y/n)’s hair away from her forehead to get a better look at the blood stained bandage. “When was the last time, Hisa-san was it? When was the last time she changed these bandages?”

“Um, maybe yesterday I think? I’ve been kind of out of it so I’m not totally sure.”

“Someone needs to hold these wisteria locations to higher standards if we really expect anyone to survive in their care,” Shinobu tisked, noting how the loose bandages easily came undone in her fingers.

“Hisa-san does her best, she’s really good honestly, we’ve just been dealing with a lot of demons lately so supplies are thin and more demon slayers have been coming and going than usual,” (Y/n) defended, taking a sharp intake of air when Shinobu’s fingers examined her head wound.

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it... This may sting a bit,”

(Y/n) hissed as Shinobu dabbed the head wound with a cold, wet cloth. Washing off the dried blood that was caked there so she could better see the wound. It was more like a large scrape, not a gaping wound as Shinobu had initially feared. “So, care to tell me how this all happened since you neglected to mention it in your letter?”

“Um,” (Y/n) paused to clear her throat, “I’ll try but it’s all kind of fuzzy in my mind.”

“Take your time,” Shinobu encouraged, replacing the bandage on (Y/n)’s head.

“Well, I was with an improvised squad, which isn’t uncommon, but this one guy was not having it,” (Y/n) sighed. “He was acting high and mighty all night. Talking about how the rest of us were slowing him down and just being an arrogant jerk.” (Y/n) recalled, an annoyed look upon her face.

“And how exactly is this leading up to how this all happened?” Shinobu smiled, moving to (Y/n)’s arms to get a proper look at the damage there.

“Oh trust me, he’s a major player in this mess,” (Y/n) huffed. “So anyway, we were tracking this demon, right? We followed its tracks to a cave in the side of the mountain range near a village and turns out there was a whole bunch of them in there—AGH!” (Y/n) jolted, a sharp pain caused by Shinobu yanking her left arm hard and fast, making it crack loudly. “Why the fuck did you do that!?” (Y/n) wheezed.

“Your arm wasn’t properly set. It may push your healing back a bit, but at least when your arm heals it will be in the proper position,” Shinobu explained, now moving her attention to the other arm. “Please continue your story.”

“Alright then,” (Y/n) grumbled, still feeling the bone throb under her skin, “So there was a bunch of them in the cave that came out to attack us and we were outnumbered, but they were relatively low level so it shouldn’t have been a problem. Then that arrogant jerk began using breathing techniques without any regard for the rest of us. He was using stone breathing I’m pretty sure, just one technique after the other and he caused a rockslide!” (Y/n) turned away from Shinobu and had a brief coughing fit from getting so worked up.

“Here, drink this,” Shinobu paused her re-wrapping of (Y/n)’s arms to hold a waterskin of medicated water to (Y/n)’s lips and the slayer graciously accepted, downing almost half the bag.

“Thanks,” (Y/n) sighed.

“You’re welcome,” came Shinobu’s sweet reply.

“So we were having to dodge boulders and fight the demons at the same time. One girl got her ankle slashed, ripped right through her tendon and she couldn’t get out of the way of the rockslide so I was trying to carry her away from the battle zone, but then that idiot got thrown in my direction and had the audacity to use the back of my head as a goddamn springboard to fling himself back into battle and I lost balance and fell forward face first into the dirt. The girl flew out of my arms and rolled a few yards and my arms were out in front of me. Before I could move, a boulder came in and crushed my arms,” (Y/n) explained, looking down at her newly wrapped arms.

“I think I would like to have a word or two with this slayer, is he still in this sector?” Shinobu asked calmly, a dark aura contrasting her tone.

“He is, but I’m afraid he wouldn’t be able to hear what you have to say, he was killed in the battle,” (Y/n) explained. “I didn’t see it, but that’s what Watanabe-san and I were told once we were brought back to safety,”

“Watanabe-san?”

“Oh, she was the slayer with the slashed tendon. We’ve been teamed up a few times in the past. She came here for medical attention but she had family nearby so she’s resting there.”

“She must have be grateful for your help that night, even if you ended up hurt as well, I’m sure she appreciated the effort,” Shinobu smiled as she finished whipping up a tonic for (Y/n)’s aching bones.

“She did, she offered for me to come with her to her uncle’s house but I told her I’d be fine here. I didn’t want to over burden her family.”

“You should have accepted, this place is kind of a dump,” Shinobu whispered with a conspiratorial smirk.

“Shinobu, that’s so rude!” (Y/n) whisper-yelled back at the mischievously smiling Pillar.

“Drink this, you’ll need to build up your strength before we can leave,” Shinobu commanded, pressing the lip of the cup to (Y/n)’s own.

(Y/n) nearly choked on the bitter medicine as Shinobu poured the contents down her throat. She shivered and made a disgusted noise when she finished chugging the mixture.

“That was terrible,” she wheezed, resting her head back down on the pillow.

“Don’t say that (Y/n), you’re hurting my feelings,” Shinobu mocked distress, “I worked so hard to make that for you after all.”

“I’m sorry, did I say terrible? I meant... tolerable, terrific! Thank you for helping me!” (Y/n) fretted, falling for Shinobu’s false grief.

“I’ll forgive you if you come quietly when it’s safe to move you,” she smiled, resting her palms on her knees.

“You keep saying we’re going somewhere. Where are we going? I’m not exactly in fighting shape at the moment,” (Y/n) lifted her slung and bandaged arms off of her stomach for emphasis.

“You’ll continue your recovery back at my estate of course. Did you really think I was going to leave you in this squalor?”

“I really wish you would stop insulting this place, Hisa-san works super hard and she is crazy fast and quiet so she could be anywhere!” (Y/n) shifted her eyes around the room before returning her gaze to Shinobu who seemed unbothered by the information. “I’m fine here, really. You don’t need to worry about me when you probably have more important things to do.”

“Are you questioning my discretion as a Hashira?” Shinobu’s smile grew, but failed to reach her eyes as she peered down at the slayer as if challenging her to speak against her plan again.

“No! Not at all, I just-“

“Great, we’ll leave tomorrow depending on your condition!” Shinobu clapped.

“But, the... the butterflies,” (Y/n) whispered, almost as if just speaking of them would be taken as an invitation to appear.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to protect you in your vulnerable state,” Shinobu smiled more kindly, “Who knows, perhaps we could add exposure therapy to your rehabilitation training.”

“Please don’t,” (Y/n) pleaded.

“I still don’t understand why you dislike butterflies so much. Surely when given the option to fight alone against a demon moon or be in the same room as a butterfly you would pick the latter,” Shinobu cocked her head at (Y/n) who seemed to genuinely be mulling it over and the sight exasperated Shinobu. “Really, (Y/n)? Do you really need to think about it?”

“They just freak me out, okay!” (Y/n) shrugged the best she could, “They flutter around and I can never tell where they’re going! They have those long, skinny legs and creepy eyes and weird curly tongue things it’s just— ugh!” She shuddered.

Shinobu couldn’t help but laugh, making (Y/n) pout and narrow her eyes at her. Even as the tinkling laughter died down Shinobu’s soft expression remained and she allowed herself to smooth over (Y/n)’s hair before gently running a cold knuckle over the bruised skin of the girl’s cheek.

“I’ve missed your antics.” Shinobu sighed, her seraphic voice betraying how tired she was as the small statement slurred together ever so slightly.

“You seem tired, have you been sleeping well?” (Y/n) asked while basking in the attentions of the cool, calloused touch.

“You know how our work goes. I’m fine.”

A knock on the door brought the two girls out of the moment and Shinobu turned her head just as Hisa came in with two bowls of rice and vegetables. Shinobu was briefly impressed by the old woman, of whom she had not sensed an approach.

“Lunch for you two, please enjoy,” Hisa crooned as she set the tray on the low lying table nearby. “And here is bedding and a change of clothes for you should you wish for them Insect Hashira.”

Again Shinobu was a bit perplexed over the old woman’s ghostly ability. How had she not noticed the bundle of fabrics Hisa only now seemed to have carried? Perhaps she was too tired Shinobu mused, watching the old woman set up the futon for her.

“I’ll be there in just a moment to help you eat, (Y/n)-chan.” Hisa smiled as she patted the covers smooth.

“No need to trouble yourself, Hisa-san. I can take everything over from here,” Shinobu politely waved her off. “Please leave the rest of (Y/n)’s care to me.”

“If that is what you wish. Call if you require anything.” Hisa finished setting up Shinobu’s sleeping arrangements before slipping out of the room and sliding the door shut behind her.

Shinobu hummed quietly and got up to collect the food from the table, opting instead to set the tray at (Y/n)’s bedside. She lifted one of the bowls and pinched a sprout with the chopsticks and held it before (Y/n)’s face. “Say ahhhh,” She taunted playfully, waving the food before (Y/n)’s lips.

“You don’t need to feed me I can do it myself.” (Y/n) could feel her cheeks heat up as Shinobu persisted with her actions.

“What a bold faced lie, (Y/n). Or perhaps you hit your head harder than I thought? You do see how tightly I bound your arms, correct? Now open up, we don’t want to make a mess now do we?”

(Y/n) looked down at her covered arms slung snuggly over her stomach and made a soft sound of embarrassment. She turned shyly to Shinobu and received the bite, looking away bashfully as she chewed and swallowed.

“See that wasn’t so bad. Have some more, your body needs fuel to help it heal.” Shinobu spoke cheekily and raised the chopsticks again.

Shinobu continued feeding (Y/n) bite after bite until the bowl was empty. Then she replaced the used bowl with the full one waiting nearby and began eating her own lunch. She still sat by (Y/n)’s side and shared in conversation as she ate. Despite the plainness of the small meal, Shinobu felt like it was the best thing she’d eaten in a long time. Though she suspects it was as Mitsuri often told her, it’s the company with which one shares the meal that makes it taste so much better.

Shinobu’s lips curl into a small, sweet smile as she watches (Y/n)’s eyelids droop. When (Y/n) attempts to hide a yawn with her shoulder, Shinobu helps her lay back down from her reclined position. She only teasingly stroked (Y/n)’s hair three or four times before the slayer passed out. The smile grew a bit more proud as she realized (Y/n)’s total concentration breathing persisted even in her sleep. Shinobu studied the exhausted yet, peaceful expression. Drinking in the face she hadn’t seen in months, she wondered how a girl she had only met in person for a short period of time could already have such a prominent place in her mind.

Shinobu stretched her arms over her head and popped her spine, releasing a relaxed sigh as the tension escaped her back. The many nights of minimal, restless sleep had really taken a toll. She shuffled over to her own bed roll, only taking a moment to remove her blade, hairpin, and haori before slipping into the covers and succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

It was well in to the next morning when Shinobu finally stirred. She fought with herself to sit up, a soft groan of displeasure left her mouth as she left the heat of her blanketed cocoon. She lazily scanned the room, her eyebrows knit together once her gaze landed on the empty futon a few meters away from her own. Her ear picked up the faint sounds of a struggle coming from the next room and her senses went into high alert.

Shinobu got up and grabbed her saya, a practiced hand poised over the hilt of her nichirin blade, she edged the door open with her foot and—

“Ahh!” (Y/n) squeaked and turned away from Shinobu to cover herself with her rumpled uniform top.

“Oh, (Y/n),” Shinobu laughed, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get dressed, obviously. Can you leave please?” (Y/n) asked, trying to shoo the Hashira away.

“How long have you been trying to fit your fitted sleeves over those thick bandages?” Shinobu asked instead, smirking and leaning against the door frame.

“...I don’t want to talk about it.” (Y/n) mumbled, her shoulders slouched.

Shinobu giggled and made to approach, picking up the discarded kimono that (Y/n) had worn the previous day. “Your uniform would probably make traveling more comfortable, but I really rather not have to unwrap your arms. I recommend you keep wearing this, at least until we get home.”

“But it’s not practical, what if we encounter a demon?” (Y/n) worried.

“No offense (Y/n), but no matter what you wear, you won’t be much help with a fight in your condition,” Shinobu gave a sympathetic smile as she held out the kimono and discretely eyed (Y/n)’s scar, the previous injury that had brought them together. “Of course, if you’d rather go topless who am I to judge?” She teased.

“Oh my gods, give me that!” (Y/n) took the kimono from an all too pleased Shinobu and nudged her toward the door. “It took me twenty minutes just to put on pants, sorry that I would rather not let that struggle go to waste.” (Y/n) grumped, frown deepening at Shinobu’s tinkling laughter.

“If you need any help, just ask. I’d like to leave while it’s still light out.” Shinobu called through the door.

Shinobu took her time fixing her hair and packing up her supplies, but once that was done she was pretty much ready to go. She pulled on her haori and accepted a late breakfast from Hisa and she casually taunted (Y/n) through the door as she ate.

Finally, the berated girl emerged from the separate room wearing the kimono and her haori draped over her shoulders, looking almost as exhausted as yesterday. (Y/n) loosely held onto her uniform which Shinobu took from her to pack tightly into her bag.

“Oh dear,” Shinobu tutted, “You already tired yourself out haven’t you?”

“I can still walk, despite everything else my legs somehow are fine.”

“In that case,” Shinobu reached out and pinched (Y/n)’s thigh causing the other girl to let out a surprised, slightly pained yelp.

“What was that for?” (Y/n) hissed, gingerly rubbing the sore spot through her kimono.

“For removing your slings. You could have upset the alignment of your arms.” Shinobu scolded gently as she moved to fit the slings back around (Y/n)‘s arms and neck. Once she was satisfied, she helped (Y/n) eat breakfast, which was technically lunch at this point.

Shinobu gathered the rest of (Y/n)’s meager belongings, most noticeably her nichirin blade, and hefted her bag over her shoulder. (Y/n) offered to carry it, but Shinobu refused. Once they were ready to leave, Hisa created sparks for them and wished them good fortune during their journey. Shinobu and (Y/n) thanked Hisa, bid her goodbye and headed out.

Mochi cawed joyously and flew circles around the girls as they walked through the nearby village. He was causing a scene, but (Y/n) let him have his fun. He was just excited to be out and about with his slayer again.

“(L/n)-san!”

(Y/n) stopped and turned her head, prompting Shinobu to do the same. “Oh, Watanabe-san, hi!”(Y/n) greeted the girl hunched over a crutch with a couple small children circling her. They had also stopped to stare up at the boisterous raven.

“You aren’t heading out on a mission right now are you?” Watanabe asked, worry evident as she hobbled closer. She hadn’t even acknowledged Shinobu’s presence, instead focusing her wide eyes solely on (Y/n).

“Oh no,” (Y/n) shook her head, “Just transferring health care facilities. Kochou-sama’s orders.” (Y/n) half joked, turning to the Pillar next her and finally tearing Watanabe’s eyes away from her to look over at Shinobu.

“Kochou-sama!” Watanabe gasped and bowed clumsily at the waist. “I’m sorry I hadn’t realized sooner-“

“It’s fine, your off duty. Relax.” Shinobu gave the girl a small smile. Watanabe released a relieved sigh and a polite ‘thank you’ before eagerly turning her attention back to (Y/n).

“Well, this was good timing seeing as you’re leaving already,” Watanabe chuckled nervously. “I was just coming by to thank you again for saving me that night.”

“No need to thank me,” (Y/n) replied bashfully. “We both ended up in bad shape by the end of the night. If it wasn’t for the others we wouldn’t have made it back anyway.”

“It still means a lot to me. We’ve been on quite a few missions together now and it feels good to know that I can trust you to have my back.” Watanabe explained, a small dusting of blush appearing over her cheeks caused Shinobu’s smile to subtly twitch. “And I love to have yours too of course!” She said. Then she paused a moment before trying to amend her statement, “I mean like, you’ve got my back and I’ve got yours when we’re killing demons and stuff!”

“Yeah, I got it.” (Y/n) laughed. “I’m glad.”

“Kawa-nee,” one of the young children spoke up, tugging at Watanabe’s clothes, “Is she that girl you talk about all the time? The one you think is really pre—“

“Is really pre, pre- professional and good at her job? Yes, that’s our (L/n)-san haha!” Watanabe squished the little boy’s cheeks until his lips were pouty and protruding harshly. “Little cousins, such a handful!” Despite looking horrified, she tittered and blushed, her hands still smushing the poor boy’s face.

“Can I pet your birb?” Another child asked from behind Watanabe, pointing to Mochi still screaming in the sky.

“Uh-“

“I’m afraid we need to keep moving along,” Shinobu interjected before (Y/n) could speak. “(Y/n) is already quite tired in her weakened state and I’d hate to have her traipsing around in the dark longer than necessary. Surely you understand.”

“Of course Kochou-sama, forgive us,” Watanabe ran a hand through her hair, her face beet red with a sheepish expression. “I guess this is goodbye for now, (L/n)-san. I wish you a full and speedy recovery. I hope to be fighting by your side again soon!” The girl spoke sincerely, “And you know, maybe hang out sometime...” she added quietly under her breath. It was something that clearly wasn’t meant to be heard but it didn’t escape Shinobu’s acute hearing as the Pillar fought to not roll her eyes.

“Thanks, Watanabe-san. I wish you an excellent recovery too, rest well,” (Y/n) beamed, seemingly unaware of the effect she had on her poor fellow slayer.

“Yes, goodbye now. Lovely meeting you,” Shinobu waved with one hand and placed the other at the small of (Y/n)’s back to usher her along. Even as (Y/n) got into a steady gait, Shinobu persisted with her touch and gave Watanabe a plastic smile over her shoulder before redirecting her attention to (Y/n), her fingers pressing a hint further into the fabric at (Y/n)’s back as she gently pushed her out of the small, bustling village.

***

They had traveled a few decent kilometers and the sun had passed its highest point. Mochi had finally grown tired of his circling and took a precarious perch on the slant of (Y/n)’s shoulder as she and Shinobu continued to walk through the twisted woods.

“Do tell me when you need to rest, (Y/n). I don’t wish for you to pass out on me, I’ve got enough things to carry as is.” Shinobu spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had surrounded them for awhile now.

“I’ll be fine,” (Y/n) spoke with an ill timed cough.

“Perhaps a quick break is in order after all.” Shinobu frowned, placing the back of her hand on (Y/n)’s scalding forehead she winced internally. “You’re burning up. We’re pushing too hard, rest.”

“I can keep going Shinobu, really.  I don’t want to slow you down any more than I already have.”

“(Y/n), I’m out here because I want to be. There is nothing more important to me in this moment than your well-being. Now sit under this shady tree, drink some of this medicated water, and rest.” Shinobu commanded, helping (Y/n) lower herself to the ground and offering a waterskin for the girl to drink from.

“Mmm ‘kay.” (Y/n) mumbled, too tired to argue further.

Shinobu simpered at the injured slayer then stood and turned to take in her surroundings. She looked to the trees above and counted veiny offshoots of the sun illuminated greenery above, killing time until (Y/n) could travel more ground.

I’m going to need to be especially vigilant tonight.

“ShinobuShinobuShinobuShinobu!”

Shinobu whipped her head around back to (Y/n) heart racing she was by her side in an instant and cupped the quivering girl’s cheeks in her hands. Her eyes switching between (Y/n) and the surrounding environment rapidly to try to understand what could possibly have upset her so- oh.

“Shinobu!”

“I see, I see. Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Shinobu released the tension she had been holding and moved to shoo away the small black butterfly that was happily perched on one of the roots of the tree. She watched as it fluttered a few meters away to the trunk of another tree before Mochi spooked it even further away. She wanted to be mad at (Y/n), to scold her for scaring so badly over something that couldn’t possibly hurt her, but instead she smiled tenderly and crouched down to sit next to the quaking girl and pulled her into a caring embrace, having (Y/n)’s head rest in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t worry. I’m watching it, just focusing on your breathing. I’m here.” Shinobu cooed as (Y/n) hid her face in Shinobu’s chest.

True to her word, Shinobu watched the insect flutter around as Mochi attempted to chase it away. She found it odd that the butterfly would continue to stick around after being repeatedly dive bombed by the bird, but she didn’t think too much of it. Shinobu shifted her position ever so carefully to get a bit more comfortable since she could tell (Y/n) had fallen asleep. Whether out of stress or just plain physical exhaustion she wasn’t quite sure, but she’d wager that both played a part.

She allowed the girl to sleep a while longer, enjoying the simplicity of this rare peaceful moment and committing it to memory. They only had a few hours of daylight left now, so Shinobu begrudgingly patted (Y/n)’s back.

“(Y/n), it’s time to start moving again.” Shinobu’s seraphic voice called out.

(Y/n) groaned and shook her sleep addled head from her position on Shinobu’s shoulder, her nose grazed the side of Shinobu’s neck as she did so.

“(Y/n), night will soon befall us. We must go. However, once we get back to the Estate, you may sleep on me all you want if that’s what you desire.”

(Y/n)’s head shot up and she fell back against the roots away from Shinobu’s flirtatiously teasing smile, feeling the heat radiating off her face increase ten fold.

“Sorry!” (Y/n) stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“No need to apologize, you looked very cute. So cuddly too,” Shinobu teased as she helped the poor girl to her feet. Before (Y/n) could reply, Shinobu pushed (Y/n) forward, her hand taking a now familiar perch over (Y/n)’s obi. “Let’s be on our way! Mochi, you can stop tormenting that butterfly now,” she spoke over her shoulder to the raven and watched him dive at the insect one last time before soaring above their heads.

“Why do you keep guiding me by the waist? I know how to get to where we’re going,” (Y/n) asked while staring warily over her shoulder at the black butterfly dodging a beam of light to continue lurking in the shaded grove.

“The forest floor is covered in gnarled roots and jagged rocks. I’d hate for you to trip and not be able to break your fall.” Shinobu explained. “Like that,” she giggled her whole arm now curled around (Y/n)’s waist as she pulled the girl back up before (Y/n)’s tripping could completely fell her. “You should really watch where you’re stepping.”

“But I need to watch the butterfly!” (Y/n) insisted, still looking back despite Shinobu’s advice.

“I’m standing right beside you.”

“What are you- oh, I see what you did there, Insect Pillar.” (Y/n) chuckled.

Shinobu continued to distract (Y/n) from her fear as they walked on. Telling (Y/n) about the last visit Tanjirou and his squad paid to the Butterfly Estate as well as an embarrassing story about Tomioka Giyuu that had both girls snickering at the poor man’s misfortune.

As dusk fell over the forest, Shinobu estimated they would make it home in a couple more hours. To travel by darkness wasn’t safe for numerous reasons, but at least they had a lovely full moon to light the way.

The conversation between the two girls naturally died off as the pinks and oranges of the sunset disappeared and night fell. It was necessary for them to stay alert of their surroundings, to be able to hear even the slightest shift in the wind beneath the near deafening songs of cicadas and crickets. Even Mochi flew high above the trees, silently searching for anything amiss.

(Y/n) shivered as a cool breeze shook the leaves of the trees and wished she could pull her haori more tightly over herself. She casually glanced to her left but soon did a double take, swiveling her whole head to the side and pausing in her footsteps. This alerted Shinobu as her hand stayed at (Y/n)’s back.

(Y/n) thought she had saw something. Something small and dark crossed the edge of her vision but whatever it was, if it was anything at all, was gone now. She turned to shake her head at Shinobu to communicate the momentary pause before they continued on the path with near silent footfalls.

They weren’t much further along when another dark shape crossed (Y/n)’s peripheral. Another chill overtook (Y/n)’s body and she could feel the little hairs on the back of her neck prickle to attention. She pursed her lips and side stepped out of Shinobu’s touch and stopped walking.

(Y/n) flickered her eyes between Shinobu’s and her blade twice. The Hashira interpreted the expression easily and poised her now free hand over the hilt of her blade as she scanned the thick woods around them. This part of the forest let in precious little light from the moon, only a few sporadic beams managed to kiss the cold earth below.

The cicadas and crickets had gone quiet.

Another particularly strong gust of howling wind rattled the leaves and pushed at the young slayers’ clothes and hair, yet still nothing emerged from the darkness. Shinobu and (Y/n) knew better than to lower their guard now however.

A few tense, painfully quiet minutes passed before (Y/n) heard it. A faint ‘fwtfwtfwt’ steadily growing in intensity. (Y/n) looked over to Shinobu who nodded in her direction. The Hashira had lowered her bag and (Y/n)’s sheathed blade to the ground in the nook between two roots of a nearby tree before withdrawing her own poison laced blade from its saya and holding it at the ready.

The noise grew louder, sounding like paper flapping rapidly in a windstorm and (Y/n) couldn’t stop the scream that shot out from her throat and escaped through Shinobu’s hastily placed finger tips that had been slapped over her lips.

Butterflies, at least a hundred if they had to guess, emerged from the darkness with the same inky black color of the one they encountered in the earlier that day.

(Y/n)’s lips quivered against Shinobu’s hand and the rest of her shook just as violently, yet her feet remained as firmly placed as a statue. Too consumed by fear to even think about bolting away.

There was nowhere to run anyway, the butterflies flew around them from all angles, more waiting just beyond the trees.

“You found my dinner have you, my lovelies?” A gravelly voice called from the darkness, followed by a sound that was like a dusty cackle mixed with a cough. “She moves rather quickly for being in such a weak state.”

A looming figure finally caught a beam of moonlight and (Y/n) wished desperately to have missed the state of such a miserable looking creature. It was a decrepit looking thing, a grotesque demon with two obscenely large, vacant compound eyes that protruded far from its face. The demon’s faded blue kimono was torn and frayed at the hem, revealing bare feet caked in dried blood and dirt. It was an old, ragged relic that paid homage to humanity long since lost.

“Ahh, there’s the damaged goods,” The demon smiled sinisterly at (Y/n), its bulbous eyes unmoving, “Just the scent of your fear alone is oh so delectable. I can’t wait to taste the rest!” the demon’s voice crackled, its neck craned to scrutinize (Y/n)’s form, a long, wire thin tongue escaped chapped lips for a moment in a poor attempt to wet them.

“Ara, what an abomination you are,” Shinobu taunted, stepping in front of (Y/n) to obscure her from the demon’s view, “You’ve really made a mess of things you know? I was going to help (Y/n) get used to butterflies but showing your repulsive form has surely driven her further into fear. I’ll have to dispose of you quickly for causing such a setback.” Shinobu spoke, her lips quirked upward in a kind of smile that somehow radiated pure anger and disgust.

“Be gone, slayer. Your blood is no good. My babies have whispered of you. They assessed you in the daylight, the girl is slowing you, leave her to me. You cannot protect her while fighting my kaleidoscope, leave her now and you’ll live to see another sun.” The demon spoke as if it was being most generous, even chivalrous, with its proposal.

“My, what ludicrous words you speak. I have half a mind to cut out your tongue over such a suggestion. My blade may not be suited for chopping heads, but for this purpose it should work just fine!” Shinobu leapt up into the trees, the sudden movement was followed by a swarm of black butterflies.

(Y/n) was breathing heavily, trying to regain total concentration with no success. She had no idea what to do. She had no way of helping Shinobu in her condition. There was nowhere to go-

“Mochi!” (Y/n) yelled out into the sky. The raven was busy avoiding a smaller swarm of demon insects, performing various swoops and dives to stay out of their way. “Lose those butterflies and go to the Estate! Get help!” The raven released a distressed caw, reluctant to leave his slayer behind, but with a few well made aerial maneuvers he spun away from the insects’ traps and flew off into the night. But not before squawking an ominous warning.

“Careful, draw much blood so sharp!”

“Blood, sharp? What-“

“Troublesome girl, by the time anyone gets here the only thing left to help with will be cleaning your entrails from the moss and roots!” The demon lurched forward, the motion encouraged (Y/n) to finally find her legs, bolting just before the demon could reach her with its gnarled claws. She could feel the displaced air from the missed swipe at her neck.

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck!” (Y/n) must have yelled the expletive a thousand times as she stumbled away from the hungry beast, between the length of her kimono and the binding of her arms her efforts alone would surely not be enough to escape.

“Run all you like, my babies show me all. Even now I see the other human hopping amongst the branches above looking for an opening she won’t find. It’s all hopeless.”

As the demon slowed its pursuit, butterflies flanked (Y/n)’s sides as she continued to run. She made a particularly hard turn and fell forward, having just enough forethought to twist so her back hit the ground rather than her slung arms.

As she tried to bring herself back to her feet, something caught her eyes that made them blow wide open. The butterflies that had been hot on her trail had been embedded deep into the bark of the tree she had ducked behind. As she processed the information the demon drew closer in the moonlight until its shadow loomed over (Y/n) who was still struggling to get up.

“You’re mine!” The demon snarled, unfurling its whiplike tongue.

“Dance of the Bee Sting: True Flutter!” Shinobu had re-emerged from the shadows of the trees at lightning speed, her blade poised to strike deep within the demon’s back.

The demon grinned wickedly, (Y/n) could see herself reflected in its gargantuan eyes, as well as another wave of butterflies flying around her in a beeline towards Shinobu.

“Sharp!” (Y/n) finally understood, but everything was happening much too fast. “Shinobu, stop!” (Y/n) screamed.

Shinobu’s breath hitched and she changed her trajectory at the very last moment to take a forward tumble and land a few meters away from the demon’s side. She quickly burst forward once her feet made contact with the earth and less than gracefully scooped (Y/n) from the ground, half carrying her as she continued to hop away.

“I hope you had good reason for that little outburst,” Shinobu’s voice strained as she tried to maintain her grip, her arms already aching. A familiar self loathing at her lack of physical strength bubbling to the surface.

“Shinobu, the butterflies’ wings are sharp enough to slice into trees. You would have been cut into ribbons if you flew into them!” (Y/n) hastily informed. “The demon said it could see through the butterflies, so even if its not looking directly at you, if there is a butterfly tailing you it knows where you are!”

“What an annoying creature,” Shinobu huffed, as she struggled to lean (Y/n) against a large boulder to help her regain her footing. “Long range battles are less than favorable.”

“It’s only a matter of time before it catches up again, what can we do? Mochi probably hasn’t even made it to the Estate yet,” (Y/n) murmured worriedly, mind whirring as fast as possible to come up with a solution.

“You needn’t worry, (Y/n),” Shinobu brushed her fingers over (Y/n)’s jaw and tilted her head so their eyes would meet, “I merely stated that long range unfavorable, in order to kill this demon, I’ll simply have to move so fast that it won’t matter if it can see me coming and remove those pesky eyes.” She smiled.

“But Shinobu-!”

“(Y/n), I certainly hope you aren’t doubting my abilities. Perhaps in your very lax use of titles and honorifics you’ve forgotten that I hold rank over you, yes? The highest rank a demon slayer can achieve?”

“I’m very sorry, Kochou-sama! That wasn’t my intention!” (Y/n) bowed awkwardly, a nervous sweat rolling off her brow.

“I didn’t say you had to stop being informal with me, just trust that I know what I’m doing, silly girl,” Shinobu smiled affectionately at her chagrined companion before spinning gracefully on her toes to face the dark abyss that was steadily growing louder, her nichirin sword at the ready, “Now, listen carefully and do as I say...”

***

A few moments later, they were under attack once again, the butterflies descended upon them in a flurry, but they were ready.

(Y/n) and Shinobu split off, a majority of the demon bugs swarmed after Shinobu as (Y/n) clambered back to where Shinobu had discarded her bag. It was still quite a ways off and (Y/n) could only hope the demon was as slow as Shinobu believed it to be. Sure, it seemed to take pause during a few points in its chase, but it could just as easily be toying with them.

(Y/n) nearly tripped due to a shallow hole in the dirt, but was lucky enough to regain her balance and keep going despite the disruption of her forward momentum. She must have cursed her useless arms over a million times in the last ten minutes alone.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing Shinobu!” (Y/n) hissed to herself as one butterfly got to close and managed to swipe her cheek, a streak of blood mingled with stinging sweat.

Finally she saw the discarded bag and her sword which she wished desperately to be able to use. She had no time to stop and figure out how to pick the bag up so she made a little prayer that her uniform would cushion the valuable vials Shinobu said were inside and kicked the bag high into the air, managing to catch the strap in her teeth, and kept running.

(Y/n) made a large arc around another thick grouping of trees and began making her way back into Shinobu’s general area. (Y/n)’s head and heart were pounding and her vision was blurring dangerously. And that was the least of her problems. Adrenaline or no, (Y/n) was sure she was at her limit and was going to crash very soon.

“I have grown tired of this game!”

(Y/n) cried out as the demon lunged from the shadows and tackled her to the ground, it’s mouth frothing and dripping foamy saliva onto (Y/n)’s kimono. (Y/n) managed to kick the demon off and she scooted frantically backwards, watching the angry monster crawl after her with its tongue lashing at her retreating ankles.

“This wasn’t part of the plan! This wasn’t part of the plan!” (Y/n) chanted to herself as she ripped one of her arms free from its sling, wincing through the pain as she straightened it and dug through the bag while still scrambling backward.

“Uhehehe! You’re little friend is busy with a special addendum of this demon blood technique of mine. I left her with enough of my babies to make a clone of myself. There are no obvious differences to be found, she will die believing she was truly facing off with me,” the demon cackled, fully clutching onto (Y/n)’s ankle and dragging her back, “little did she know I was really here, devouring her friend!”

“Devour this, bitch!” (Y/n)’s arm withdrew from the bag with a surgical syringe in her bandaged fist and stabbed it deep into the nearest eye of the miserable creature, draining the purple liquid into the gelatinous mass.

The demon roughly pushed the girl back and released a most horrendously shrill scream into the night. It reeled back on its haunches and clutched at its face.

“What have you done to me! My eyes! My eyes!” It bellowed, its eyes had begun to deteriorate at a rapid pace, a purplish red puss leaked from its tear ducts as it blindly grasped at (Y/n)’s legs. “I’ll make you wish you were never born!”

(Y/n)’s eyes clenched shut, she had no strength left to continue fighting, everything hurt so much she couldn’t even move to defend herself any longer. She could feel the hot breath against her neck, but then the sensation was quickly replaced with that of the cool night breeze and her eyes shot open to see a pure white haori flutter against her cheek.

“Kanao-san!” (Y/n) cheered, her expression one of euphoric disbelief.

“Where did you go you slippery little worm!” The demon shrieked, ripping madly at the ground with its claws.

Kanao stopped a safe distance away from the ranting beast and laid (Y/n) onto the grass and began assessing the beyond beat up slayer before her.

“Wait, Kanao-san, the demon needs to be dealt with and we need to find Kochou-sama.” (Y/n)’s speech was hurried and a bit slurred, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to stay present in the moment and (Y/n) was trying very hard to stay lucid to update Kanao on the situation.

Kanao stared down at (Y/n) then up at the writhing demon, then back down at (Y/n). She gingerly adjusted (Y/n’s neck and head so that she was looking back at her tormentor of the night and could see what was about to take place. (Y/n)’s heart filled with relief as a familiar blur, that was truly very blurry at this point, ambushed the demon from the trees. “She’s okay...”

“Dance of the Dragonfly: Compound Eye Hexagon!” Shinobu speedily stabbed the demon multiple times, injecting it full of her poison. She was absolutely furious. Not only had the demon wasted her time with that cheap parlor trick clone, it had left (Y/n) in worse shape than Shinobu had found her in the care of the Wisteria House.

She dug her heel harshly into the demon’s ribs once she got a good look at (Y/n) as Kanao tended to her. Shinobu’s jaw set tightly and she glared darkly at the demon writhing and gasping under her foot.

“You,” Shinobu spoke lowly. “I wish I could kill you a hundred more times, but this will have to do. I’ve used my most agonizing blend of poison after all.” She waited for the demon to release one final wheeze before stepping away, crushing a wilting remnant of a demonic butterfly into ash beneath her foot as she made her way over to Kanao and an unconscious (Y/n) with a visibly pained expression.

“Thank you for your impeccable timing and diligence. When I heard that scream I thought... You got to her just in time,” Shinobu knelt down opposite Kanao, beside (Y/n), checking over the girl’s body for any injury that could not wait to be dealt with.

“Mochi was invaluable. I wouldn’t have even known to come to the forest without him. He’s guiding a couple Kakushi here as we speak,” Kanao reported as she would upon completing a mission.

“I’m glad,” Shinobu twined her idle fingers with those on (Y/n)’s left hand and closed her eyes wearily. “I’ve done nothing but put her in danger tonight. She needs to be kept in hands stronger than mine.”

Kanao hesitantly reached out and covered (Y/n) and Shinobu’s joined hands with her own, meeting her sister’s curious gaze a bit nervously. “I... I don’t think (Y/n)-san could be in more capable hands than your own, Neesan.”

“She’s right.”

Kanao and Shinobu blinked at each other before tilting their heads downward to find half open (e/c) eyes staring back up at them.

“It was a strange and clever demon, it targeted me specifically because it observed my injuries and knew I’d be easy pray. If I had been at the top of my game, or if you didn’t have to worry about me, you would have been able to take out that demon much faster. It took advantage of us, so don’t belittle yourself, please.” (Y/n) smiled warmly and weakly squeezed Shinobu’s fingers.

“You’re too kind,” Shinobu gave a small smile in return, “Don’t strain yourself now, rest.” She spoke softly, but (Y/n) continued to babble in her feverish, exhausted haze.

“I just don’t want you to be sad, you know? You work so hard and you’re so cool and smart and beautiful so, yeah, gods I’m so tired. Imma take a nap righ’ here. Night.”

“(Y/n), (Y/n)!”

“Ah!”

Mochi had swooped in from high above the trees and landed on (Y/n)’s chest with wings outstretched and proceeded to hop around her torso and cry with relief.

Shinobu gently admonished the bird, offering her arm as a more acceptable perch as (Y/n) groaned and turned in on herself.

“Kochou-sama, Tsuyuri-sama!” two Kakushi called as they emerged from the trees, one cradled (Y/n)’s sword in their arms as they made their hasty approach.

“Oh gods, you again?” One of the Kakushi griped once he caught sight of (Y/n) on the ground. “You aren’t going to fight me when I pick you up again, are you?”

(Y/n) pouted and shook her head slightly, fighting to keep consciousness despite claiming that she was going to sleep.

“Shinobu promised to keep the butterflies away, it’s fine.” She mumbled, forgoing usual formalities that she would normally use in the presence of others.

“What do butterflies have to do with anything?” the other Kakushi wondered aloud, scratching their head with the hilt of (Y/n)’s blade.

“Just ignore her, it’s been a long night and I’d like to get home,” Shinobu waved them off, trying to distract from (Y/n)’s slip of her self proclaimed, ‘most embarrassing secret’.

The gruff Kakushi picked (Y/n) up and with a little help from Kanao, got her slung over his back.

“Ugh, everything hurts. Don’t bounce so much,” (Y/n) whined, her voice muffled by the Kakushi’s back.

“Quit complaining I-“

“Do be gentle with her please,” Shinobu interjected, she gripped the Kakushi’s shoulder and gave him a dazzling smile that shook him to his very core.

“Y-yes ma’am!”

***

(Y/n) awoke several hours later. She was disoriented, but clean and warm in the comfort of the Butterfly Estate’s infirmary.

“(Y/n)-san woke up!” Kiyo exclaimed from (Y/n)’s side, startling the girl from her haze between sleep and wakefulness.

“Hey, Kiyo, how long was I out?” (Y/n) asked the small girl at her bedside who was quickly joined by Naho and Sumi scurrying over from the opposite side of the room.

“You’ve been asleep for over three days since you got back. Shinobu-sama slept a lot too. Not as much as you, but once she had you taken care of she slept almost all day!” Kiyo informed. “It’s been awhile since Shinobu-sama has slept so soundly.”

“I’m glad she’s been resting. That fight was, kind of intense to say the least,” (Y/n) shuddered just thinking about that battle. She was sure she’d be seeing long, whipping tongues, bulbous eyes and razor sharp butterflies in her nightmares from now on. She needed to become even stronger. “Has Kochou-sama said anything about when my recovery training will begin to you girls?”

“Hmmm no,” Sumi shook her head.

“She just asked to make sure you don’t leave your cot and to call for her if your condition worsened.” Naho supplied.

“You are in no shape to even think about recovery training right now.”

Everyone jumped and turned to the door, observing Shinobu as she crossed the threshold into the infirmary. The younger girls parted for Shinobu, the Hashira took ahold of (Y/n)’s chin and jaw in one hand and gently turned it this way and that to check the cuts and bruises that marred the slayer’s face. She released a quiet, satisfactory hum seeing that nothing appeared infected. As she continued her evaluation, she continued to speak, “Your body has been through a considerable amount of stress to say the least. The way I see it, you’ll be out of commission for a couple months at the very least.”

“A couple months? But—!”

“Shhh,” Shinobu adjusted her hand to cover (Y/n)’s lips and stifle her protests. “I will hear no ‘buts’ about it. This is not up for debate. Now you will not leave this bed until I have personally cleared you to do so. Have I made myself clear?” Shinobu’s eyes stare relentlessly into (Y/n)’s, almost threateningly so, as she slides her hand to rest on the bedridden slayer’s shoulder, awaiting an answer.

“Crystal clear,” (Y/n) squeaked, trying to sink further into the bed. Shinobu squeezed their shoulder gingerly before withdrawing her hand completely with a satisfied smile.

“I’m glad you understand,” Shinobu hummed approvingly. “Now, you must be hungry. Girls,” she turned to Sumi, Kiyo and Naho, “see if Aoi needs help with dinner, please.”

“Yes, Shinobu-sama!” the girls nodded vigorously, waving goodbye before disappearing out of the room and down the hall with the soft thuds of tiny feet on wood.

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Shinobu asked, directing her attention back to (Y/n).

“Hmm? Oh, I’m okay. Just, tired. Sore.” (Y/n) startled a bit, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious that she had been staring at Shinobu while the youngest girls of the estate took their leave.

“I see,” Shinobu hummed, setting herself to sit on the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” (Y/n) flexed her ankle, hitting her foot against Shinobu’s side, “I wish you would believe me when I say that.”

“It’s hard to argue the contrary. I did take you away from the Wisteria House after all. As shoddy as the building is, at least the wisteria would have kept you safe.”

(Y/n) moved to kick at Shinobu again, but the Hashira blocked the foot, leveling a warning glance at the bedridden slayer.

“You know, I was really surprised when you came.” (Y/n) admitted, turning to look out the window. She flinched when she noticed the butterfly on the other side, but kept her eyes on it, watching. “It made me really happy, actually.”

Shinobu blinked, unsure of how to proceed. She didn’t need to however as (Y/n) kept talking.

“I had been looking for an excuse to come by, to visit. I didn’t know what you’d think. I thought that you were just fine with being pen pals and me showing up would be weird, and then I thought about the butterflies and I just lost my nerve every time I thought about it. And then I got hurt again and I thought the letter I had Hisa-san write would be good enough for you, but you came to see me for yourself,” (Y/n) paused and gulped nervously, still watching the butterfly as it was joined by another.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? I just wanted to tell you that it meant a lot that you would take time to come look after me when your so busy. Even when it got dangerous, I can’t say that I regretted it because I was just happy to be with you— Eep!”

Shinobu moved from her perch at the end of the bed to lay over (Y/n)’s body, her face hidden in (Y/n)’s neck.

“Shinobu!”

(Y/n) felt rumblings over her neck and chest growing in intensity and although it hurt, she smiled brightly as Shinobu’s laughter racked her body.

“Thank you.” Shinobu chuckled once she had reined in her laughter. “That was very sweet of you to say. Aren’t you embarrassed to speak so candidly?”

“Should I be?” (Y/n) asked, nervously. “Oh gods, I didn’t read this wrong, did I?”

Shinobu rose herself to rest on her elbow, her other hand raised to silence the girl below her before her second guessing got too out of hand and tapped her nose playfully. The action drawing (Y/n)’s up to Shinobu’s filled with mirth and warmth.

“You have nothing to worry about. Relax, don’t over exert yourself.”

“So, you...?”

“Mhmmm,” Shinobu smiled, curing a lock of (Y/n)’s hair between her fingers, “so don’t stress. After all, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other while you heal over the next few months. And then, once you heal and are able to take on missions again, maybe you won’t have to think twice about coming over for a visit, hm?”

“I- I suppose not.” (Y/n) smiled bashfully at the butterfly goddess above her.

“Shinobu-sama, you’re going to crush her!”

Shinobu and (Y/n) whipped their heads to the door where Aoi, Kanao, and three mildly concerned young girls stood with food trays in hand.

“My, I’m not that heavy am I? Choose your answer wisely,” Shinobu cocked her head playfully in (Y/n)’s direction, watching her shake her head and laugh.

“Not at all my lady. No more heavy than a blanket really.”

“Ugh, is this what I’m going to have to put up with now?” Aoi groaned and rolled her eyes, placing a tray on the nightstand beside (Y/n)’s bed while fighting the smile that threatened to tug at her lips.

Aoi watched as the younger girls cheered and giggled, crawling on to the bed to chatter on about anything that came to mind as they ate their own dinners. Even Kanao had pulled up a chair, a relaxed smile on her face. Aoi begrudgingly pulled up her own chair, basking in the warmth of the moment despite the strange seating accommodations that certainly weren’t befitting of a proper dinner.

“So annoying.”

[clubyukhei]

a/n: um there’s 1.3k words in this gangster/dad!au filled with fluff and some basic tattoo aftercare. sorry i got carried away, i was feeling very soft and domestic, nothing new lol <3 reposting this due to tag problems. enjoy!

[10:55AM]

on sunday mornings yukhei would be found deep in slumber, his face buried into your pillow and his body sprawled across the california king bed you and him share. 

unlike the rest of the week where he’d be out early fulfilling his duties in the underworld, he had the weekends all to himself — and he’d usually sleep past noon to get all the rest he needed before spending the rest of his free time with his family.

today’s a different case though. he’s awake and sitting on a playmat in the living room, watching his little girl work on a new watercolour painting — and it’s only eleven in the morning.

moments like these are when yukhei feels like his life isn’t real. 

it’s not that hard to believe that he’s a high-rank, deeply respected member of the triad he’s been with since his youth, and a husband to the love of his life who has stood by his side through all the highs and lows.

but being a father? it’s a role yukhei still can’t quite fathom and struggles with sometimes — even after four years, and even after your countless reassurances that he’s doing a great job. 

“what happened to the dragon, papa? looks like you have a big boo-boo.” 

the innocence of that question makes yukhei smile. he feels the soft pad of a chubby index finger smooth across the nape of his neck, near the layers of cling foil wrapped tightly around his torso and over his shoulders to protect the freshly retouched tattoo on his back.

he hums tentatively, pondering how to explain such an intimidating concept to a child. it’s definitely not the first time she has asked about the tattoos all over his body — but all the answers he gave back then have long slipped his mind. 

“the dragon was… disappearing. it was becoming nothing, remember? i had to draw it again.” 

if only it was as simple as it sounded. 

throughout the past week, he was at ten’s tattoo parlour, enduring a needle bite into his skin as he lay chest down against a leather bed for at least five hours each day. afterwards he’d come home to you, and you — with all the patience and tenderness in the world — would take extra care of the inked dragon on his back. at the start of each day and end of each night, you’d smooth healing cream across the sensitive skin, taking your time to trace the raised lines as he exhaled in bliss.

it was exhausting for both of you. yukhei thought he’d be free after the tattooing process was finished, but that was only because he completely forgot how troublesome the aftercare process was. after seeing how fast you fell asleep last night, he felt terrible. he woke up earlier today so you could sleep in and phoned his colleague chenle first thing in the morning, telling him to take over his work for the upcoming week. 

“it looks like it hurts really bad.” the little girl says softly. 

she looks up at him, her big and curious eyes meeting his own. yukhei will always find it endearing how even though she’s pretty much his mini-me appearance-wise, her personality is almost all you. 

as a kid he was loud when it came to expressing himself — but she’s the complete opposite. she’d make her thoughts known only when she felt strongly about them, and those moments never failed to tug at yukhei’s heartstrings. like that time she openly disagreed with her friends at school who thought her papa’s tattoos and piercings were strange; or that time she refused to sleep until he got home late at night and read her a bedtime story, then confessing that she missed him a lot.

“it hurts a little.” yukhei says, immediately regretting it when he sees her bottom lip pucker into a pout. 

“but it’s okay!” he quickly adds, pulling the little girl closer to him before gently nudging her knee with his thumb. “it’ll be gone soon. when _____-ie fell down and got a boo-boo here, it hurt too but it went away later, right?” 

her eyes widen with hope as she nods. “you have to be strong, papa! like me.” 

yukhei doesn’t even get to react to her precious statement because she’s already crawling into his lap. he watches her trace the various designs of the huge tattoo sleeve on his arm, her fingertips dancing along his skin before stopping on the angel on his bicep. 

“this one’s your favourite, huh?” yukhei presses a kiss to her cheek.

“yeah,” she mumbles, now touching the large wings belonging to the angel. “mama told me it’s her favourite too.” 

yukhei feels the corners of his lips curl into a silly grin. of course it’s your favourite — it’s you. 

she doesn’t know that though. it’s still a secret between you and him since the intricate details of it aren’t obvious to a four year-old. but when she’s older, she’ll hear the story behind it — how yukhei calls you his angel whenever he’s sappy, and how he enthusiastically decided to have you inked onto his body in a drunken stupor. 

“but there’s no colour in it.” the tone of disapproval in her voice makes yukhei chuckle. he rests his chin on top of her head, glancing towards the coffee table where her painting was left to dry. there’s a palette and a few paintbrushes neatly arranged next to it.

“i know, sweetheart. maybe you can help me?” 

“how?” 

and so began another painting session — except this time, his arm is her canvas.

yukhei couldn’t believe he didn’t think of this idea sooner. the watercolour paint was thick enough to not fade away yet easy to wash off after, which already made his life easier. but it also felt strangely therapeutic lying on his side and watching the empty spaces on his sleeve come to life with all sorts of colours. 

a while later, you stroll into the living room in a sleepy state and instantly beam at this adorable scene. 

“look at you two.” you coo affectionately, giving your very busy daughter a good morning kiss on the forehead before doing the same to your husband. “you didn’t wake me up.” 

“i wanted you to rest.” yukhei replies, watching you smile back at him shyly before looking at the colourful masterpiece on his arm.

“i’m tempted to take a picture of this just so i get to see you two look this cute all the time.” you chuckle as your hand lands on his torso, caressing the lion tattoo on his rib cage that isn’t covered in plastic foil.

yukhei gazes at you for a few seconds, silently taking in everything about this moment  — how he’s relaxing in the safety and comfort of his own home, with his two favourite girls close to him, and soaking in the warmth of the morning sunlight falling onto all three of you. 

it’s the complete opposite of his day-to-day at work — it lets him shed the cold and gritty exterior he presents to the underworld. he wonders what he did in his past life to deserve this experience, wonders if he could revel in this airy presence with you two in his next life too.

“and maybe i’ll send it to the boys,” you lean in and whisper to him when your daughter scampers off to get more paint. “and show them what their boss is up to when he’s not huang xuxi, watcher of the lion’s heart.” 

grinning at your silly suggestion, yukhei engulfs your hand with his, intertwining your fingers. he’s so overwhelmed with contentment that it doesn’t even matter if you go ahead with an idea he’d normally roll his eyes at.

“it’s all up to you, my love.”

-

[lizbotw]

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

[laireshi]

first lines meme

Thanks to @rose-nebulijia​, @fizferret​, and @merinnan​ for taggging me!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!  

My 20 most recent fics are mostly pingxie, with one unrequited yanping and two origfic drabbles thrown in, so I marked the ones that are not pingxie ;) Also, first line... Is that the first sentence or paragraph? I went for paragraphs.

1.

Wu Xie spent a lot of time just watching Xiaoge, in the weeks after getting back from Changbai Mountain, getting Xiaoge checked out in hospital and released with stern orders to rest, and finally moving to Yucun, to the house Wu Xie bought for Xiaoge— 

(the break of day)

2.

The thing about seeing, meeting, and accompanying Zhang Qiling in the flesh was that he couldn’t be described.

(Transcendent - the zhang haiyan/zhang qiling one one!)

3.

He was almost out of Golmud Sanatorium, Wu Xie right behind him, when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He couldn’t tell what it was—a play of light or just looking at it from the right angle—but he stumbled, almost fell, caught himself with a hand on the wall.

(What You Looked For)

4.

Xiaoge didn’t sleep at night. Wu Xie knew, because neither did he. They lay next to each other in the darkness, breathing quietly. Xiaoge’s hand found Wu Xie’s wrist; he squeezed.

(No Way Out)

5.

It was horribly unfair.  He was a monster under the bed, and Halloween was coming. He’d been looking forward to it.

(A New Home - original fiction drabble #1)

6.

Wu Xie had thought Xiaoge’s mere presence could force the monster Wu Xie had become back under his skin.

(cut my name in your heart)

7.

Celia was the best in her trade. Any spell, any charm: you name it, and she could beautifully ink it under your skin. There was just one thing she didn’t like to do: soulmarks.

(Soulmarks in Ink, original fiction drabble #2 in this list)

8.

“Retirement,” Pangzi complained. “We’re retired. Why does no one get that?”

(never too late to have a childhood)

9.

Here’s something Wu Xie never told Xiaoge, all during his insane chase after him all the way up Changbai Mountain: there was a thin bracelet in his pocket. It was just a simple wristband made from silver with an inscription on the inside: You’re Zhang Qiling; you have a past and a future.

(Past and Future)

10.

Hei Xiazi had known Yaba Zhang for a long time, though Yaba Zhang remembered very little of it—but then, when they’d met, Yaba Zhang hadn’t even remembered his own name, so Hei Xiazi definitely didn’t hold a grudge. Having a lifespan somehow out of sync with the rest of the world changed how you look at things, and it was good to know someone to share it with, even if that someone forgot more than he remembered.

(Two As One)

11.

He’d bought the house in Yucun before Xiaoge even came back: a big dare to the fate; a refusal to contemplate a future without Xiaoge in it; a commitment that Xiaoge would never ask for, but Wu Xie had still wanted to offer from the first moment.

(The More Things Change)

12.

Wu Xie was not a cat person.

(Purrfect Happiness)

13.

Wu Xie finished an article on the restoration of centuries old paintings and blinked. He wasn’t sure how he got there; he’d only meant to research a bit about new trends in architecture. He set down his glasses and stretched. The clock told him it was now almost the evening, and it was true; the light falling inside wasn’t as bright anymore. He decided he hadn’t seen his boyfriend in way too long time—it’d been hours!—and Xiaoge wasn’t dozing off on his favourite branch that Wu Xie could see from his office, so he got up and padded downstairs. Xiaoge wasn’t inside, so Wu Xie went to the garden. If he were lucky, he’d find Xiaoge training . . .

(Warm Evenings)

14.

Learning how to live with Xiaoge was unspeakably easy in some ways and terrifyingly difficult in others.

(One Day at a Time)

15.

Zhang Qiling had gone behind the Bronze Gate before; had remembered parts of it; had thought he’d known what to expect.

(Countless Futures)

16.

“Look out!”

Wu Xie barely had the time to process what was going on: one moment, the suitcase dropped to the ground, the next, Xiaoge was pushing him down.

(like you would do for one you love)

17.

Beijing was overwhelming.

(lost (not found))

18.

Wu Xie, completely overjoyed at the chance to finally accompany Sanshu on an adventure, nevertheless did not enjoy Guangxi in summer. The air was thick like a soup, it rained more often than not, and all the insects seemed to love his blood.

(Safe Together)

19.

At night, Wu Xie dreamt of death.

(A Problem Shared)

20.

That first night in the desert, Wu Xie and Xiaoge didn’t talk about putting their sleeping bags close together, far away from the rest of the camp. They came together in a way that was only natural, without needing to talk. Wu Xie still remembered the pain in Xiaoge’s eyes as he said no one would notice if he were gone; he wanted to convey with his actions as well as his words that it wasn’t true. That he was noticing Xiaoge now; that he would definitely notice if he disappeared.

(Entanglement)

And that’s it!

tagging @jockvillagersonly @humanlighthouse @extraordinarilyextreme @janekburza @selenuntius @ishipallthings

[15-dogs]

new hire |n.s.|

pairing: newt scamander x apothecary!reader

summary: you’re hired as the new apothecary at newt’s favorite establishment, and he finds himself attending the store more often to buy more and more ridiculous, unneeded items (all the fluff!! coffeeshop (technically apothecary) au, pining)

warnings: none

guide: (Y/N) = your name, italics = writing

word count: 3.9K

a/n: this is my take on a coffeeshop au!! i feel like newt would be more subject to visiting apothecaries than coffeeshops so i used all the basics of a coffeeshop au and changed it to an apothecary!! i hope you like it :)

Newt was positive that his Dittany was somewhere. He shook every drawer upside down, went upstairs to check his bedroom, back downstairs to turn every stone for the second time, then back upstairs to recheck his belongings before he admitted that he was out of it. 

He huffed, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he debated whether or not to pick up Dittany then. He ultimately decided that he didn’t want to risk getting into an accident where it was crucial to have on hand and come up empty so he threw on his vest and coat, making his way towards the apothecary store down the street. It was a small place disguised as a pharmacy on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. The building wouldn’t appear to muggles as it truly was, allowing for wizards to slip in and out unnoticed.

“Oliphant & Bailey’s Medicinal Supply” was painted onto a metal sign that swung outside the store, the metal sign bracket whining every time the wind would pass. Newt smiled at the familiar words before entering, being greeted with the smell of fresh herbs that were drying out on racks by the door. 

His eyes scanned the jars along the shelves, finding the Dittany hidden off to the side from everything else. He let out a content sigh as he attempted to snatch it off the shelf but it didn’t budge. Newt looked around the store with confusion and finally realized just how crowded the place was.

“Mr. Scamander!” a woman called out. Newt whipped around, finding Vancity Oliphant with a trail of boxes floating behind her, her dress robes pressed to perfection. “We haven’t seen you around here in quite some time. Where have you been?”

“Busy, mostly.” Newt shrugged, fiddling with his hands.

Vancity began to twist her wand, various potions flying onto the shelves. “Well, one thing’s for certain: we missed you. We’ve been getting an increase in business recently--” Vancity turned towards Newt, leaning in close “--the whole nonsense that that man, Lockhart, has spun has everyone panicked. He told them that if they don’t turn to holistic medicine, then there would be a greater chance that they would be attacked by a troll. Ridiculous, sure, but business has been outstanding! We even had to get a new hire!”

Newt gave her a placating nod, hoping that the conversation would be over soon. “Right, that’s fantastic-”

“Isn’t it?” Vancity rounded the counter and beckoned Newt to follow her, passing the people in the line who seemed to have been waiting for quite some time. “Anyway, how can I help you, Mr. Scamander?”

Newt nearly sighed with relief at the question finally being asked. “I tried to pick some Dittany up off the shelf, but it wouldn’t budge-”

“About that,” Vancity let out a low breath, dipping her head with disappointment. “With the uptick in sales, we’ve had an uptick in accidents. People were knocking our things off the shelves and it just took too much time to clean up and rebrew and whatnot. So we fixed everything down. Only employees can pick things off the shelf.” Vancity snatched a slip of paper, quill, and inkwell off the counter and slid them towards Newt. “We started to provide customers with these sheets so they can fill out what they need and we pick it up for them.”

Newt, knowing that the sooner it would all be over the better, simply nodded and began to fill out the form. Vancity chuckled before taking the form in her hands.

“One vial of Dittany coming right up, Mr. Scamander.” And just like that, she disappeared into the back room.

Newt glanced around the store and wondered if there was anything else he needed before he left. He spotted a few herbs off in the corner that might be of use but, as his gaze caught on the already irritated line, he decided it was in his best interest to pick them up another time.

“Mr.-...Sarmander?” a voice called out.

Newt whipped around, taken by surprise by the new face. Your face. He felt a strange sensation in his chest when he looked at you, like a sense of warmth had flooded through him. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he had been staring at you for so long.

“Are you Mr. Sarmander?” you repeated, shaking the bottle of Dittany in your hand.

“Scamander,” he corrected as he approached you.

Your cheeks heated up at the mistake. “My apologies, Mr. Scamander. I just read what was off the paper but apparently I wasn’t looking closely enough.”

“I have truly terrible handwriting.” That was a lie. Newt didn’t know where it came from. “Thank you.”

“Have a lovely afternoon, Mr. Scamander!”

He would have one now.

•••

Newt was having some trouble making progress on his novel in the next few days. He had barely drafted a page of anything because he was too focused on the interaction that the two of you had only 4 days prior.

He knew you were kind. He could see it in your eyes. Even if he only spoke to you for just a moment, he knew it was true. And you had a lovely smile. One that was so lovely you must’ve flashed it at everyone and left them thinking about it as much as Newt was.

Newt shook his head, breaking himself from the trance he was in to look at his blank page. Writer’s block was not faring well with him. So he stood up and threw his jacket on, realizing he could do with the fresh air. As he was leaving his house, he stopped short in the doorway, snatching some money from his kitchen table. He might as well grab some more herbs while he was out.

No more than 15 minutes later Newt was entering Oliphant & Bailey’s. The store was empty for once, but he figured it would be for a Monday morning. Newt made his way to the counter, rocking back and forth as he awaited an attendant. To his dismay, Rita Bailey revealed herself from the back room.

“Mr. Scamander!” she cried. Rita leaned over the counter, furiously shaking his hands in hers. “How have you been?” Newt opened his mouth but she didn’t give him time to answer before she was speaking again. 

“I heard you were in here a few days ago. It’s not often that we see you in here twice a week. Are you out on something?” Rita’s eyes widened as she seemed to beat her own question in her head. She leaned unbearably close over the counter and whispered, “Is your Swooping Evil not producing? Because Vance and I have some products in the back. Stuff on the side, if you-”

Vancity, who stood in the doorway of the office, cleared her throat, calling the attention of her partner. Rita’s head whipped around, a sheepish grin plastered on her face.

“Rita,” began Vancity, her voice stern, “I need you in back to help with the budget.”

Rita stood to her full height, motioning towards Newt. “Well, who’s gonna help Scamander, then?”

Vancity leaned into her office, speaking to someone with a jerk of head towards the shop. There was a muffled reply and the sound of shoes clicking against hardwood, pacing around the back room.

Newt’s heart began to beat just a little faster. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing. Then he caught himself. What was he getting his hopes up for? He wasn’t expecting anything, and he certainly didn’t care if you were there or not. It’s not like the back of his neck flushed and his cheeks started to heat up when he saw you exiting the back room.

“Mr. Scamander,” you stated. Newt let out a shaky breath; your voice was so smooth, the words sounded almost practiced as they fell from your lips. 

You brushed one hand off on the little apron that was tied around your waist and the other was used to magic a quill and inkwell onto the counter. You reached into your apron to pull out a slip of paper, dotting your quill into the ink. “How can I help you today?”

“I need some ingredients,” he shot out quickly, looking down at the counter.

You chuckled softly as you scribbled in a box, drawing his attention upwards. “What kinds of ingredients?”

Newt took in a sobering breath as you finally met his gaze. For a moment, he forgot what he came there for. “Mandrake root and Moonflower Pollen.”

You gave him a dutiful nod as you jotted the items down. You tossed the quill and paper up in the air, the quill finding its place by the inkwell and the paper rolling itself up and flying into a cupboard below your legs.

You scooted out from behind the desk, walking up past Newt towards the racks of herbs. You picked up the dried up roots of a Mandrake, holding it up at him. “This one okay, Mr. Scamander?”

“Perfect.”

You moved to another counter, freeing a small paring knife from your apron. “I have to ask you, Mr. Scamander,” you began as you chopped up the root, “you seem to be buying a lot of medicinal supplies. Are you a Healer?”

Newt chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “No, I’m a Magizoologist.”

You halted in your motions, looking up at him. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” His response was no more than a single exhale, the words barely forming as he stared into your eyes. He finally peeled himself away from your gaze to continue. “With the creatures I work with, some healing skills are of great use.”

You hummed in response. “I can imagine.” Flicking your wand, a small mortar and pestle flew to your side. With the blade of your knife, you scooped the chopped up root into the bowl and began to grind it to a fine powder. “You know, I was always interested in Care of Magical Creatures back at Hogwarts. I was never all that good at it, though. Not like I was with Herbology.”

Newt’s eyes were trained on the root being cut up, too afraid that looking would cause him to meet your occasional glance up and make a fool of himself. “I’m actually writing a book on magical creatures at the moment.”

“Really?”

“If you’d ever like to study magical creatures again, I could give you a copy.” Newt’s heart began to flutter at the way your eyes lit up.

You stopped in your motions of preparing his Mandrake Root, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. “That would be wonderful.”

After packaging up the now-crushed root into a small, beat up tin and handing it to Newt, you paced around the counter with another tin in hand. You approached a glass jar full of yellow pollen in it, using the scoop inside to portion out a generous amount.

“How’s this, Mr. Scamander?” 

You tilted the tin towards him, Newt leaning in to examine the contents. Before he could answer, a quiet sneeze came from his coat. You pulled the container back, your brows furrowed as Newt became flushed. He hesitated to reach into his coat, turning to the side as he pulled Pickett, his Bowtruckle, out and scolding him just out of earshot.

“No, Pick, I didn’t forget about-...she didn’t know you were-...don’t blame this on her! She did nothing-”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted. Newt froze, cocking his head to see you practically leaning over his shoulder. “I have to ask, is that a Bowtruckle?”

Newt exchanged a glance with Pickett before popping him into his pocket, Pickett’s head resting just outside of the heavy fabric to stare you down. “Yes, he is.” You fought a giggle as you leaned down to stare at Pickett in the eyes. “He has some-”

“Attachment issues?” you finished. Newt’s eyes went wide as he gave you a nod. A smile flickered onto his lips for just a moment. You looked up at Newt from your position then stood to your full height. “I’ve heard of that being the case with Bowtruckles before.”

Newt simply nodded again, too distracted by the fact that you were just inches from his face. For just a moment he could have sworn that he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips, his breath getting caught in his throat.

“I have just the thing for your Bowtruckle,” you whispered before moving away towards another shelf.

Newt shivered and let out a sigh, his chest thundering. Finally, he realized you had moved away and followed, watching with a close eye as you broke off the tiny fruit of a strange purple herb that he couldn’t place.

“What’s his name?” you asked while you pulled the fruit into halves.

“Pickett.”

You turned around, offering a half of the fruit to Pickett. Pickett perked up, looking up at Newt for permission. You chuckled at the interaction while Newt pulled Pickett out, letting him sit on his finger.

“Well then, this is for you, Pickett.”

Pickett shared one more look with Newt before taking the fruit and gnawing on it instantly. He let out a happy squeak and jumped onto your arm, crawling up to your shoulder as he continued to snack on the fruit.

Newt let out an impressed laugh at the sight. “Pick doesn’t quite like strangers,” he explained.

You turned your head to eye the happy Bowtruckle, petting him with the pad of your index finger. “Suppose we’re not strangers anymore, are we, Pick?”

“Newt,” Newt shot out quickly. He continued to stare at his fingers while he toyed with them. “You can call me Newt.”

Newt only looked up when he saw your hand come into his field of vision, all delicate and strong. He took your extended hand and shook with careful vigor, the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

“Then consider us friends, too, Newt. I’m (Y/N).”

•••

Newt began to frequent the apothecary more often than he needed to. He always seemed to be running out of something, and he always seemed to arrive just when the rush died down. His list of items he needed appeared to grow longer and longer with each visit, but you never once gave his service to another employee.

The thought of you ran tirelessly through Newt’s head at night. His heart would beat just the slightest bit faster when he thought of that gorgeous smile you would flash him when he walked through the door, almost like you were expecting him to be there. 

Oh, Merlin, and that disarming chuckle that tumbled from your lips when he would trip over his words. It instantly calmed Newt down, his stammer fading away slowly.

Distracted from his writing again, Newt decided to pay you a visit at the apothecary. He snatched the coat of the back of his chair and ran out the door, his heart getting lighter with each step towards the store. Once he arrived, he swung the door open and looked up, only to find that you weren’t there. He frowned, but approached the counter and waited.

“Mr. Scamander!” Vancity cried as she exited the backroom. “How can I help you?”

Newt leaned over slightly, checking to see if you were in the back before the door shut behind Vancity. “Is (Y/N) here?”

Vancity let out an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, Mr. Scamander, she’s out sick.” Newt opened his mouth to speak but Vancity predicted his next question, silencing him immediately. “She doesn’t know when she’ll be back, either.”

“Oh. Right.” Newt focused on the counter, trying not to meet that horribly embarrassing sympathetic look that crowded Vancity’s face. “Will she be okay?”

“She’ll be perfectly fine. Nothing she can’t handle. It is her job to supply medicinal supplements, after all. Now, is there anything I can help you with?”

“No, actually.”

Newt wasn’t sure what Vancity said left-- his mind was too full with strange thoughts about the nature of your relationship. You were friends, weren’t you? That’s what you said to him the day you met Pickett. So if you were just friends, why was he feeling so lost without you there?

Newt took his time walking back to his house, his mind off someone else. He couldn’t help but recall the way you made him feel with your kind heart and witty humor, your soft eyes and enchanting smile. Just remembering that made his cheeks heat up.

As Newt entered his home, he walked into the basement and opened a cupboard to prepare the food for his Glow Bugs when a few tins from Oliphant & Bailey’s fell onto the counter. That’s when it hit him. He didn’t need all those herbs. He never did. So why was he going?

It was so plain. It was all there, the facts laid out in front of him: Newt Scamander had feelings for you. It was so incredibly obvious that he wondered how he didn’t notice it before. And it wasn’t a normal attraction, it was a stupid schoolboy crush; the kind where he’d go through ridiculous measures just to get your attention.

He groaned and threw his head into his hands at his epiphany. What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do?

•••

Newt revisited the apothecary day after day, awaiting your return. After about a week of the constant rejections, he decided to let it go for the time being. It was frustrating, to say the least, to not hear how you were doing. He was more concerned about you than he was about acting on his feelings, because Merlin knows when he’d do that.

As Newt ran through the possibilities of what you had come down with, a knocking came from his front that snapped his attention to the forefront of his mind. He opened the door and stared, slightly confused at the sight before him.

“Theseus?”

“Nice to see you, too, Newt,” Theseus scoffed, embracing his younger brother into a tight hug. Newt stood quite stiff in his arms until he let go.

The younger Scamander rested an arm against the doorframe, leaning against it to make himself look much taller next to his brother who just happened to tower over him. After settling into the awkward position, Newt asked, “What brings you here?”

Theseus reached into his pocket to pull out a small notice, placing it into the hands of Newt. Newt frowned before unravelling it and scanning over its contents.

“It’s a notice from the Ministry. Next date to get your international ban removed.”

“Ah.” Newt raised the note in the air, casting a silent spell to have the paper zip itself down to his basement. “I’ll see you then, I reckon.”

Newt tried to shut the door but Theseus put his foot in it, prying it open to face Newt once more. Theseus held out a hand as the other fished through his jacket pocket to pull out a few small vials of Dittany.

“Just in case,” Theseus added sheepishly. “You always used to run out of this, and I can bet you still do.”

Newt flashed a grateful smile at his brother before his eyes caught on the label of the bottle. That same label that was plastered on every herb in his basement.

“Did you get this from Oliphant & Bailey’s?”

“I did, actually.” Theseus snorted, an amused grin on his lips. “The Apothecary there, the new one, she knew you. Recognized my face and asked if I was related to you, ‘the more handsome Scamander’. Her words, not mine.”

“When did you get these?”

“Right before I came here, why?” That familiar devious smirk grew on Theseus’ lips. “Do you fancy the girl, Newt?”

Newt lit up instantly, regardless of Theseus’s teasing. He sucked in a sharp breath and turned towards his coat rack to grab his jacket, slipping it on with great haste. Newt pushed his brother aside, casting a spell to activate the wards at his house.

Newt practically ran to the apothecary, the door swinging open to find a mass of people in line. He didn’t care. He pushed to the front, resting when he got to the counter. He scanned the store, trying to find you but came up empty.

“Newt?”

The sandy haired man whipped around, finding you walking out of the backroom, boxes in hand. Newt sighed, a warmth spreading inside of him at the sight of you. He ran up to you and alleviated the weight from your hands, resting the box on the counter.

“How are you feeling?” he asked through labored breaths.

“I’m...fine. Were you just running?”

Newt was never a good liar. He always got caught one way or another. “Yes…? I desperately need some Dittany.”

A knowing smile toyed at your lips as you raised your brows at him. “Dittany? Did your brother not give you the two vials like he said he would?”

Newt Scamander: expert in magical creatures, failure in lying.

“...right. I meant that I need some of that fruit you gave Pickett a few weeks ago.”

You snorted with laughter before pulling out the form and filling it out with the items, name, and his home address. You cut through the throng of people, snatching a tin up and preparing some of the fruit for Newt.

He began to rifle through his jacket pockets in an attempt to find some money for the treats he didn’t really need.

“How much is it-”

“It’s on the house, Newt. I’m pretty sure you’re our best customer, anyway.”

Newt looked up at you for a moment, his lips curling upwards at your kindness. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. You know,” you began as you labeled the tin, “being sick wasn’t all that bad. Kept me away from work and all. Let me take a break.” 

Newt nodded, feeling selfish for wishing you to be at work all the time just so he could see you. “Right,” was all he managed to say.

“The worst part”--you shoved the tin into Newt’s arms-- “was not seeing you.”

The tips of Newt’s ears began to heat up. He wanted to say something clever so desperately but all he managed to do was stare at you in complete shock, eyes wide and jaw slack. 

He watched as your eyes flickered down towards the tin, seemingly awaiting a reaction. Newt furrowed his brow before glancing down at the writing on there, blinking in shock. He reread it a few more times, only looking up when he heard you chuckle.

“Is this serious?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because it’s-- well it’s-- it’s me, and you’re you. You’re just...you’re you and I’m me, and I just didn’t think that you’d feel that way-”

“Newt,” you cut off, laughter spilling from your lips, “I happen to like you being you. Funny how those things work.”

Newt couldn’t process what you had just said. It was like everything in the world had tipped in his favor all at once. Just that gorgeous, encapsulating smile on your face was proof enough for him.

“Reckon I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he finally managed to say, backing up the best he could towards the door.

“Tomorrow night,” confirmed. Newt was nearly at the door when you called out, “It’s a date!”

He slipped outside, getting a breath of fresh air for the first time in 15 minutes. He ran a hand through his hair, just then realizing that his heart was pounding out of his chest, his grin so wide that his cheeks began to ache. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered to. Newt looked down at the label one last time, chuckling at the note.

Thursday. 7 PM. Your place.

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

general taglist: @pandaxnienke @lunalovecroft @for-bebbanburg

[tenspontaneite]

Pigment

Callum discovers the wonders of elven pigments.

(The first of two pieces written for @falling-for-you-a-rayllum-zine, which is now having leftover sales!) ('Future' chapter; takes place post-s3, naturally not canon to TTM. Oneshot. 4k. Ao3 link)

---

The first time Callum was introduced to the concept of elvish pigment was, ostensibly, by Rayla’s skin. He’d noted the marks under her eyes in the same hurried, panicked glance that picked out the horns, the ears, the alarming points of the weapons in her hands…

He wondered about them, of course, but in the first frantic two weeks of their acquaintance, there really wasn’t a lot of time to ask about it. Not until the Storm Spire, when he sat mulling over the flight-runes on Ibis’ wings, and how they might have come to be there.

“…So, I’ve been wondering,” he said to Rayla, apropos of nothing, while she was tending to her equipment. She looked up as he began to speak, the armour momentarily forgotten. “Those…markings you have, the ones on your face—and the ones a lot of other elves seem to have—what are they?”

She blinked, and for a moment, her fingers rose to her face, as though only just remembering the marks were there. “They’re pigment?” She offered, squinting at him a little. “…Is that a trick question, or…?”

“No, really, I have no idea what they are.” He assured her. “I was never sure if they were tattoos, or…weird elf birthmarks, or something. But—pigment? Does that mean it’s like…ink? How do you get them on?” Tattoos, as he understood them, involved needles. He hoped elven pigment didn’t involve needles.

For a moment, Rayla stared at him, looking decidedly nonplussed. “You…paint them on?” She offered, still thrown. “With a brush? And then they stay there for a while. Half a year, maybe. Depends on how good your pigment is.”

“Huh.” Callum mused. For a moment, he was tempted to press further, to ask about the intricacies of various pigments and the application thereof…but he’d been asking for a reason, after all, and his attention remained there.

If they were painted on...then that boded well. That meant that it was something that he could do, if only for the presence of the pigment and a brush.

It wasn’t much later that, after a guilty rummage through Ibis’ things, Callum stood at the pinnacle of the Storm Spire and painted flight-runes onto his skin. That was his first true introduction to the pigments of elves. As an artist, he couldn’t help but marvel at it. The pigment was white, yet it entirely obscured the darker colour of his skin with only a single, easy stroke. Only one layer, and it was solidly opaque. It glowed a little—then settled utterly dry, clean, and steadfast upon his arms.

For a moment, he spared a thought to wish that his paints could be like that. He’d dabbled in every form of art medium he could get his hands on over the years, and he’d never worked with any pigment like this one. It would be gorgeous to paint with.

But then he was too distracted trying to fly to think about art any longer, and that was the last mind he paid to pigment for a while.

*

After the battle of the Storm Spire, he prevailed upon the use of a finer, neater brush, and filled in the edges of his flight-runes until the shape of each was perfect and immaculate. Ibis watched him with a critical eye, and nodded.

“The spell will come easier if the runes are tidy.” He said, approvingly. “You’ll need to re-apply the pigment every three months. Any longer than that and it will begin to fade—which isn’t so great an issue when the marks are merely aesthetic, but with runes…”

“I can see how you wouldn’t want these fading, no.” Callum said ruefully, and accepted the little bottle of white pigment with a murmur of gratitude. He tucked it into his things for the next time he and Rayla went travelling, and she smiled at him.

“Packing your pigment for the journey, Callum?” She remarked, a little teasing. “Think we’ll be gone that long, do you?”

He laughed, and shrugged, glancing down at one of his arms. “I guess it’s just in case, really. I shouldn’t need to touch them up again for months, but…you never know. Wouldn’t want to end up flightless for some reason.”

“I suppose you are a tad obsessed with flying, now.” She agreed, as if she wasn’t always finding excuses for him to sweep her up into the sky for another flight. She reached out, absentminded, and trailed a fingertip around the curve of one rune with the trace of a smile on her lips. “Still, if it came down to it, you could always borrow mine.”

He glanced up at her, startled. “Your pigment?” He checked, eyes settling on the marks beneath her eyes. “I didn’t know you had any with you.”

“I don’t. Need to pick some up from Ethari, when we visit.” She said, succinctly, and he supposed that was another reason for their stopping at Silvergrove on the way to Katolis. How long had it been, since she last refreshed her pigment? Did she need to do it again soon, or was she just planning for the future?

He stared at her for a moment, contemplating her, feeling his heart flutter with a familiar warmth. If her markings had faded at all since he met her, it wasn’t immediately obvious to him. They looked as clear and lovely as ever; a natural part of her face. It was strange to think of what she might look like without them.

Rayla eyed him, when he’d stared a little too long and smiled a little too softly, and huffed at him. Her cheeks pinked a little, the colour darkening her markings. “What are you looking at?” She muttered to him, a touch self-conscious. Rather than look away, he smiled at her all the wider, and captured the hand she had on his arm to plant a kiss on its fingers.

“You.” He said, very contentedly, and watched with pleasure as her face coloured and her fingers twitched beneath his touch.

“Dumb prince.” She sighed, a smile spreading unbidden and affectionate across her lips. It was beautiful, so of course he kissed that too. He felt the widening of that smile against his mouth, and lingered there for as long as she’d let him before she prodded him away to finish packing.

She gave his arms a strange look, though, when he next bared them. Appraising, almost, with a narrow-eyed sort of consideration. “…What?” He asked, when she’d been staring long enough to warrant the question.

“Your runes are…neat.” She said, tone as considering as her eyes. “Tidy.” She shook her head then. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, with all the art you do. Of course you’d be good at painting skin-pigment.” He eyed her, because there was clearly more to this observation than just surprise that he’d managed some tidy brushwork, but all she said when he asked was “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He didn’t believe her, obviously. Not with the way she kept shooting half-considering looks at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. But he didn’t press her, and she didn’t mention whatever was on her mind. In time, he forgot about it.

Until they were back in the Silvergrove.

*

Rayla asked Ethari, and within the minute he was pressing a small dark bottle and a fine brush into her hands. “I did wonder if you needed any.” He said, as she turned the glass over and the indigo liquid swirled around within. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” She agreed, pocketing the vial and the brush both. “It’ll start fading soon. So…thanks.”

He nodded at her, all warmth and familial affection. “Not a problem. Did you want me to help with that while you’re here?”

She hesitated, then, and for a moment…for a moment, her eyes slid to Callum, who’d been watching them idly over the top of his sketchbook. “…I’m good.” She settled on, eventually, and if there was anything particularly knowing about Ethari’s smile then, Callum didn’t notice it.

He kept drawing, content in that she was content, and happy to be in her home under happier circumstances than the first.

But then, later: “I wanted to ask you something.” Rayla said, abruptly, when it was just the two of them in what was ostensibly her childhood room. It had been adapted over the years for a growing teenager, but still maintained hints of the past lingering within its walls. He spotted a child’s doodle of a shadowpaw etched into the grain of the dresser, and suppressed a smile.

He turned to her, eyes crinkling a little at the thought of a tiny rambunctious Rayla who scrawled over the walls and furniture. “Yeah?” He responded, a little distracted, as he wondered if there were perhaps any baby or childhood portraits in residence somewhere. He should ask Ethari. If there were any to be found, surely he’d know.

That distraction fled the instant she spoke. “Will you paint my pigment for me?” She asked, directly, and his eyes shot to her at once. At his expression, she added, “You don’t have to. But it needs doing soon, or it’ll start fading faster.” She paused, looking a little more tentative as she said, “If you don’t want to, Ethari can—”

“No,” he blurted, clumsy, then scrambled to say “I mean, yes, I mean—I mean I’d like that. To help. To, er. Paint your pigment on.” He felt his face heat, in part from how he’d stumbled over the words, and in part because…well. He might not know a lot about elven pigment and elven markings, but he was fairly sure that they were…personal. That painting someone’s markings for them was personal.

His reply settled her, and she huffed, lips twitching with familiar fondness. “…Good.” She said, in the end, and surprised him by leaving the room without further word. He blinked after her, uncertain whether he was supposed to follow, but then she returned a bare few moments later with a towel and a wet cloth that she was already wiping her face with.

“Er,” he offered, perplexed, as she dried her face off and set the towel and cloth both down. He didn’t understand until she plucked the bottle of pigment from her dresser and pressed it into his fingers. “Now?” His voice was something of a squeak, and she rolled her eyes.

“When else?” She asked, procuring a brush and giving him that too. “We’re setting off tomorrow. Now’s best.” She paused. “…That okay?”

Her voice had gone tentative again, and his chin jerked up, fingers tightening around brush and bottle as if worried she’d take them away. “No, yeah, it’s okay,” he assured her, and then laughed, a little nervously. “I just…wasn’t expecting it.” He cleared his throat, and took a closer look at the brush. It was like the one he’d filled his own runes in with, fine and delicate and short enough that it didn’t seem liable to flick off in weird directions. “…So I just…paint this onto your face?” He asked, after a moment, feeling his cheeks heat for reasons he couldn’t quite put to words. It felt special, in a way that was hard to describe.

“That is how it works.” Rayla answered, dryly, and then tugged him by the rune-adorned arm until they were both sitting on the floor, towel and cloth at close remove. He supposed those were there in case of spillages, though considering how quickly elvish pigment took hold, he wasn’t sure how much good a towel would do. He wondered if there was some sort of solvent, magical or otherwise, that was up to the task of dissolving pigment like this.

“What happens if I make a mistake when I’m putting your pigment on?” He wondered aloud, only half directing it at her. “Do you just have to walk around with it on your face for months?”

She snorted, and shook her head. “Nah. There’s pigment-remover for that.”

A little tension eased from his shoulders. “Oh, good,” he sighed, relieved. “That’s much less pressure, then.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Just paint my face, Callum.”

He chuckled at her, a little nervously, and uncapped the bottle. The liquid inside was so much darker than the pigment he used, and bizarrely true in its colour. Usually, inks tended to look much darker than their actual colour when they were in the bottle. It was only when you painted them onto a page that you could see how light and bright they were. This, though…it was just solid, liquid indigo, as if someone had distilled the concept of the colour of Rayla’s markings and spilled it into a bottle. “This would be amazing to paint with.” He murmured, somewhat distractedly, watching the pigment shimmer in the low light.

Rayla didn’t answer that, which was unusual enough that his eyes darted to hers, and found her looking strangely thoughtful. She shook her head, though, as if to dispel some thought, and started giving the pigment bottle and the brush some very meaningful looks. He laughed, softly, and obeyed the unspoken command; he dipped the brush in, drained off the excess, and then lifted it. It was dyed the same solid, true indigo—a colour that he was about to put onto her skin.

It hit him then, or at least started to; he looked between the brush and her face and felt his breath catch at—at something. It felt a little like panic, a little like wonder, a little like the breathless infatuation she always managed to inspire in him. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it, and just…stared at her, heart beating wildly at—at the trust, and the honour, that he couldn’t help but feel she’d given him.

She was looking impatient by the time he finally moved, and likely would have spoken if not for how he shuffled closer, until their knees were touching. Her mouth closed, watching him, eyes settling on his own as he reached towards her. His fingers brushed the edge of her jaw, feather-light, as tentative as he always was when he remembered that someone as amazing as her had deigned to be with someone like him. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his hand, thumb tracing tenderly along a cheek that warmed beneath his touch.

He cupped her face in his hand, then, unable to resist the impulse, and she leaned into it without even thinking. Her eyes fell half-lidded for a moment, the smallest smile twitching at the edges of her lips, and he wanted to kiss her. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing, but—but he wanted to, and she was smiling at him, and her eyes were soft and warm in the quiet and low light of the room—

So, he kissed her, and she huffed an amused breath against his lips, lifting a hand to trail affectionate fingers along the side of his neck. “This doesn’t feel like face-painting to me.” She murmured to him, fond and teasing at once, and he wouldn’t have been surprised for a moment if his heart stopped beating for the strength of how much he loved her. “Weren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

He laughed, a little breathless, and the warmth of it spilled between them. “Yeah.” He agreed, helplessly, drawing back with her fingers still warm on his neck and his hand still cupped to her cheek, and paused for a moment to treasure the sight of her looking at him like that. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was that she loved him. He didn’t think he’d ever believe it. “I’ll just…get on that.”

She withdrew her hand, and watched him. Waiting.

His fingers shifted on Rayla’s face, moving to press his thumb gently to the side of the marking under her left eye. Pulling at the skin, ever-so-slightly, to allow for painting it more evenly. Another urge struck him, but this time he suppressed it. He could kiss her cheek-markings later. For now, he was supposed to be painting them. And so…

With an almost reverent care, he lifted the tip of the brush to her face, hovering just above her skin with a heady mixture of breathless wonder and breathless trepidation. He exhaled, softly, and felt her eyes upon him. Watching, warm and fond and expectant.

Finally, with the utmost care, he touched the brush to her skin.

She flinched a little at the touch so close beneath her eye, but he’d expected that. He held the brush steady and traced a slow, perfect line down her cheek, along the edge of the extant marking, like a dark border to the fading colour. And it was fading; he could see that now. It wasn’t noticeable on its own, but with the contrast of the fresh pigment beside it, it was fully obvious that the old colour had begun waning.

With the brush to her skin, Callum’s hushed awe fell in step with the breadth of his skill and practice. He’d never put brush to someone else’s skin before, but that did nothing to diminish his skill. He knew brushwork, and he knew the delicacy needed for fine detail, and…and, in the end, this was easy. Just tracing around an existing marking, and filling it in. There could be nothing easier.

He drew the pigment across her skin in smooth, effortless lines. He traced the borders of her marking and then filled it in, up until when the brush began to run empty, and he had to go for the bottle again. The colour settled fast, immediate, and perfect upon her face, with that gorgeous fidelity he’d never seen in any other pigment or paint or ink in all his life. It was a pleasure to use it, and all the more that he was using it for this.

Callum fell half into an artist’s trance for the remaining minutes it took to finish. He filled the left marking in, stark and perfect, then shifted his fingers tenderly to her other cheek, and repeated the process. When he was done, there was nothing but perfect lines and perfect colour upon a face that he loved.

He smiled, small and satisfied, and set the brush aside. “Done.” He murmured, and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers, cradling her face in both hands. It felt strange, to risk touching her skin when he’d only just painted it. But that was the wonder of elvish pigment; it dried the moment it was applied, and permitted no possibility of smearing whatsoever. He stroked his thumbs beneath her eyes and felt more happy, more tender, more loving than he’d ever known. “Perfect.” He murmured, reverential, the words meant for more than the pigment.

Her eyes blinked across from his own, and he loved them. Loved her. She brought her arms up and drew him closer, one hand splayed on the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ll have you do me some new markings, someday.” She murmured to him, in the end, a small and secret smile at the edges of her lips. He stared at her, spellbound, for the three beats of his heart that lingered between her smile and her movement. She leaned in and closed the meagre distance between them, the kiss soft and sweet and all the more perfect for how dearly he adored her.

He imagined, for a second, drawing that ink-brush again along her skin. Imagined it between her fingers, along her arms, casting indigo whorls about her shoulders. He thought of new pigment, new markings, and the sheer delight of being the one who got to put them there. His heart fluttered. “I’d like that.” He said, against her lips, and she kissed him again.

“Good.” When she drew back, the markings were still stark and beautiful beneath her eyes, where he’d painted them. The sight of them left him a little breathless, even now, unable to shake the sense that he’d been afforded an enormous privilege, a gift of worth beyond measure.

Someday, he hoped, she’d afford him that gift again.

*

Callum saw the fruits of Rayla’s thoughtful consideration and furtive glances a while later, when July came around and he was startled from thinking about her birthday by the arrival of his own. She cornered him with palpable satisfaction, and gave him a parcel that she very clearly expected him to be delighted with.

She wasn’t wrong.

He unveiled an array of small bottles; thirty-six hues of true and perfect elvish pigment, distilled for the purpose of painting. He beheld them all with a nearly breathless joy, finding the little parcel of pigment-brushes, the bottle of solvent, the masking-fluid….

“You like it?” Rayla asked, with a broad and decidedly smug smile on her face. She clearly already knew the answer.

“I love it.” He pronounced, and set at once to trying them out.

The very first thing he painted was her. She watched him, and huffed as she saw the familiar lines of her own face taking form on the page, pleased and exasperated all at once. She never did seem to understand why he drew her so often, but that was okay. And, with these pigments…

The colours were spectacular, brighter and more intensely pigmented than anything he’d ever seen. He found himself utterly swept away in the delight of using them, and hours later, emerged from his artist’s trance to the completed work: Rayla in the early evening of the Silvergrove, her hair and eyes gleaming softly with the gentle illumination of the lights and moon-moths around her. It was one of the finest works he’d ever produced, and at the sight of it, he concluded the process of falling helplessly in love with Elvish pigment.

Rayla, for all her embarrassment at being painted, seemed to approve of it too. “You picked that up quickly.” She noted, handling the edges of the thick paper with the delicate care it deserved.

“These pigments are my new favourite thing.” He declared, arranging the bottles a little more tidily beside him. His eyes rested, a little consideringly, over another wide sheet of paper. He stared at it for a long while, growing quiet and solemn, and eventually reached out to take it.

He had his birthday traditions to observe, after all.

The second thing he painted with the elven pigments was his family portrait, atrophied and truncated by tragedy. There was no Sarai there, and hadn’t been for years. No Harrow, and that was a new pain. He felt the ghosts of their absence in the lines he didn’t draw, in the colours that never fell upon the page, in the voids of grief that they left in his life.

But there were new faces now, too.

With quiet, exquisite care, he drew himself. He drew Ezran, older now, wearing a mantle that had come for him too soon. He drew Bait in his brother’s arms. He drew Aunt Amaya. And, tenderly: he drew Azymondias and Rayla. The outlines took form, and as the hours passed, elvish pigment filled them in.

In the end, he had his family portrait again. Changed, and echoing with its empty spaces, but…

Quiet, from her place beside him, Rayla slipped her hand into his own.

“Come on,” She said, with the small but tender smile that he loved. “Zym has a present for you too. He’ll be disappointed if he can’t give it to you today.”

Callum exhaled, and let her fingers tighten around his, pulling him up to his feet beside her. His own smile slipped onto his lips. “Then we’d better go find him.” He said, casting a last glance at the portrait on the table. He didn’t resist it when she tugged on his fingers, pulling him away.

With a strange, quiet serenity, he followed her out into the light.

---

end.

This is word-for-word what was published in the Rayllum zine 'Falling For You'; I have made no changes. It’s the shorter and less impressive of my two pieces, but I hope you liked it anyway.

I’ll potentially be making some minor edits to the second piece before posting, given I intend to continue it - in fact, I’ve already got like three extra chapters of it written, though small ones. I’m considerably more excited about that one, so stay tuned!

[merkavahpartyvan]

Learning alchemical correspondences

What’s neat about alchemy is that if you know a little about it, you can immediately apply the knowledge because so many magical, scientific and other disciplines were and still are built on basic alchemical principles. This isn’t about whether or not alchemy is right or wrong, just about its place in the evolution of our thought and art and sciences. You will it everywhere because it’s been around... and knowing how to read its tracks will help you understand a lot of things!

For instance, the shorthand of alchemy is used a lot in many places in magic and history. You can find it in heraldry, where it also bridges into the history of important aristocratic houses, and you will find it in chemistry, where it defines our earliest understandings of the behavior of metals and materials. You will especially find it in descriptions and charts dealing with spirits and magical ingredients, or names and descriptions of magical items.

So, here is a list of seven things you can look for that will give you alchemical knowledge about whatever subject is referencing alchemy. If you’re researching historical subjects, it’s especially useful because the further in the past you go, the more you’ll find people depending on alchemical knowledge, because at one time it was all we had. If you understand the thinking of the writers, you can understand their writing more, and find hidden references. You’ll also be more likely to pick up on the things they forgot to explain because they assumed some knowledge would be common to the everyday reader that no longer is. And you’ll know that if a ritual is supposed to be on a certain day of the week, and it asks for iron tools and red decor, you’ll be doing it on a Tuesday, and you’ll know that because you’ll know how to recognize Mars in a ritual.

I’m going to identify the metal, the day of the week, and the color. I say ‘color of decor’ to mean altar cloths, text color, colors of flowers and gems... etc. I’ve listed the colors I’ve often found “in the wild” in different correspondence charts and magical systems--it’s usually determined by what ink colors the author/culture had at their disposal, so don’t stress yourself out on getting it perfect. Once you have these basic correspondences down, you’ll be able to find many more.

Gold

Gold is the metal of the Sun. Sunday is the day that corresponds. The color of decor can vary from yellow to white to gold, depending on the constraints of your palette.

(Since Venus is copper, sometimes your palette’s limits may mean that the Sun is white, Venus is yellow, etc. You’ll find similar behavior with Mercury’s color associations.)

Quicksilver

Quicksilver is the metal of Mercury. Wednesday is the day that corresponds. The color of decor can vary--grey or silver or iridescent is typical, with some way that it is contrasted from the Moon.

(By the way, if you need a shortcut for remembering days of the week and which correspond to which metal, just look at them in French! Here’s a table.)

Iron

Iron is the metal of Mars. Tuesday is the day that corresponds. (Mardi Gras is always on a Tuesday!) The color of decor will be red. Iron is what makes dyes and paints--and blood--red, in fact.

Silver

Silver is the metal of the Moon. Monday is the day that corresponds. The color of decor will be silver or blue, depending on your palette’s constraints, and there’s the option of using white if the Sun isn’t doing that.

Copper

Copper is the metal of Venus. Friday is the day that corresponds. The color of decor will be copper or orange--gold/brass will work if it doesn’t conflict with other planets. (This last part only refers to the color brass. If you use the metal brass instead of copper, that can create conflicts, so be aware of that.)

Tin

Tin is the metal of Jupiter, so put on your tinfoil hat. Thursday is the day that corresponds. The color of decor will typically be green for Jupiter, which gives you a real break from having to find yet another shade of grey or silver in this system.

Lead

Lead is the metal of Saturn. Saturday is the corresponding day. The color of decor should be black or a dark color like purple, just goth it right the heck up.

This is why magicians end up keeping so many correspondence charts--you can find plenty of associations to add with just this basic set of information to start from, I’m sure, and every magician has their set of correspondences they prefer. You’ll find various systems that build on or copy off of this system, or that modify and mutate it. From it, you can also see the structures that make up a base foundation for a creative, scientific and magical system. If you’re interested in rolling your own, then this is a good place to start studying!

[sincerly-kate]

Shattered Glass (Malcolm Bright/Whitly x gn!reader)

A/n: This story is inspired by two things; a two-part series by @wreckofawriter​ and also my experience with family . If you want me to remove it (wreckofawriter) then I will, but I don’t mean to copy your amazing work.

Warnings: Angst to fluff, Malcolm trying his best (not really a warning but that needed to be put out there, HE ONLY TRIES HIS BEST), also talk about poor mental health! (Such as Anxiety, description of an anxiety attack (this is based off MY experiences I’m not trying to generalize them!) and slight depression)

Don’t read if you’re not done season one! All spoilers are under the cut just in case (Eve is mentioned, iykyk)

Summary: You and Malcolm have been dating for a few years now, you share with him all of your sides- or so he thought. How will he react when he sees you crying when you think he can’t see you? How will he feel when he realizes that you guys are more alike than he originally expected?

Y/s/n = Your Siblings Name

Y/m/n = Your Mothers Name

y/n = your name (just in case this is your first fic)

Words: Just over 3,000 (😅😅)

I was listening to this song as I was writing this: If the World Was Ending- JP Saxe, Julia MIchaels

You always knew that Malcolm could see the real you better than anyone else, he could see straight through your facial expressions and little habits. It was his job after all as a profiler, he couldn’t just turn it off when he was with you and that was understood between the two of you. The last thing you wanted was for him to change in a world that treated him differently already (no thanks to his father).

But there was one part of you that you tried to keep from Malcolm at all costs, and that was your family.

It wasn’t because you didn’t trust him with that knowledge, but it was just a side of you that you’ve never been able to let anyone see. To see how hurt you were by their words, how little you were respected by them, how small you felt anytime you tried to be yourself around them. You couldn’t tell him any of it, you hoped that he would believe your lies, cause you knew that his family was way worse than yours; so you just kept it all inside for no one except yourself to see. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty for confiding in you after all these years.

You felt him nudge your shoulder, which brought you back to reality. You were a Reporter, and a very god one depending on who you asked, and Malcolm needed you to help him drag out a killer for a case. He was profiled as overly confident and a borderline narcissist, so Malcolm was certain that if you talked about him on the news, saying that they had him in custody that he would contact either you or the station to say you had a fraud. Malcolm was going to be by your side the entire time, just to make sure they wouldn’t go after the most important person in his life-,not again; he wouldn’t know what he would do if you were taken away from him like Eve. He would do anything in his power to make sure that he wouldn’t go after you, since you matched most of his previous victims.

“You alright?” He looked at you slightly worried, he was always concerned when you got too deep into that head of yours, he wasn’t sure what caused you to be constantly thinking that you’re not good enough, but he wasn’t going to press the matter. He rubbed your thigh as he sat next to you, to keep you grounded.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like I’m about to be indirectly talking to a serial killer on live television, and possibly get a target on my back for doing so.” You nervously laughed as you looked down at your feet, your leg bouncing up and down to the rhythm of your rapidly beating heart.

“You don’t need to do this; you know that right?” He placed his hand on your cheek, caressing the side of your face with his thumb repeating the motion to calm your nerves. “I can ask Ainsley; she’s done this before-”

“Malcolm, I’ll be alright. I always am.” You gave him a tight-lipped smile; you knew it wasn’t very convincing but that’s all you could muster up at the moment.

He wasn’t convinced, you could tell since he gave you his doubtful that he’s given you on more than one occasion but he was cut off by another voice before he could call you out on it.

“C’mon Bright, they’re about to go live.” Gill said as he lightly grabbed his arm to get him out of the shot, and he complied.

“Live in 3,2,1...” You were given the cue as you took a deep breath and put your ‘TV face’ on as you liked to call it. “Breaking news tonight, the NYPD have confirmed that they have someone in custody who’s been known to the public as The angel of death, nothing has been said by police if this truly is their killer but after the past week of The angel of death terrorizing the city, police are led to believe that this is him.”

You took a pause to make it look like you were listening to someone through your earpiece, that was intentionally visible to the camera, then carried on with the broadcast.

“I’ve just gotten a confirmation from our sources that it has been officially confirmed that they have The angel of death himself in custody and will be setting a court date to be announced later. Now back to Ryan with politics.”

The second you heard the ring that signaled you were no longer on air, you slumped over in relaxation. You crossed your arms on the table in front of you and leaned your head, that now felt lighter than air, on top.

“You did amazing darling, that should get the killers attention for certain.” He said to you as the sound of his shoes got closer to the desk the kissed the top of your head and slowly rubbed your back to release more tension that he knew you were holding.

“I didn’t really- “You tried to correct him as you lifted your head, but Malcolm refused to let you get close to finishing that sentence of yours.

“Nope- you just brought us our killer baby; you did a hell of a lot more than most would’ve in your shoes.”  You loved how he was always able to reassure you, and how he did it without a second beat.

You turned to look up at your loving and supportive boyfriend in admiration and a warm smile slowly painting your features, “Whatever I did in a past life was so worth it.”

“What?” He slightly laughed at your statement, looking at you now with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

“To deserve someone like you and be lucky to call them mine.” You stood up from your chair and moved closer to him to close the distance between his lips and yours, you could taste the slight cherry flavor of the candy you knew he had earlier. As you two break apart, you can still taste it on your own lips.

Unfortunately, this moment doesn’t last as long as you two wanted it to, because both of your phones go off. His from an unknown caller, and yet yours is somehow worse.

You look down to your phone saying Mom, you sighed at this and then looked at Malcolm, or where he was, already on his phone, most likely talking to the killer himself next to Dani, Giles and JT.

You excused yourself to another room for some privacy that you knew you were going to need. You were only halfway to the quiet room when you answered your phone; you knew that was going to be a bad idea.

“Why in the hell did you think that was a good idea y/n?!”

You sighed and with a tight-lipped smile replied with, “Hello to you too mom, haven’t heard from you in a while.” You then slowly closed the door behind you.

“Don’t give me that lip! I am your mother, I deserved to be treated with respect! I never get this from y/s/n.”

You dropped your head down in defeat, you always considered the problem child, ever since your sibling came into the picture. Before that everything was relatively fine, but you never blamed y/s/n though; it’s not their fault your parents decided that you could fend for yourself at the age of 8.

“Yeah I know, but it was for a case- “Once again, she decided to cut you off.

“A CASE?” she shrieked into the phone, making you pull the device away from your ear.

“Yes- “

“Now I knew were selfish, but I never thought it was this bad. I could tell that it was staged, are you seriously putting yourself in danger so they could contact you for some ink?”

You were absolutely shocked by her words; she thought that you risking your life was selfish? So, you could save others, that made you selfish? You felt the pressure of tears build up as a sickening pit was building in your stomach; she always knew the words to say and never in the good way. “No, that’s not- “

“No, I get it, you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs. I have no clue where I went wrong with you.”

The minute you heard that, you hung up the phone. You couldn’t care less about what she would’ve said after that.

You hit your back on the wall as you slowly walked backwards and slid down to the floor. You pulled your knees up to your chest and placed your head down.

You must’ve been sitting there for a while as there was a rough knocking behind your back, on the door. ‘They must’ve been knocking for a while’ you thought.

“Y/n! Are you in there?” Malcolm. You must’ve scared him to death, without even thinking you stand up and open the door for him.

Behind the door was Gil, JT and Dani accompanying Malcolm. “Shit guys, sorry if I scared you.” You laughed humorlessly but stopped once you saw all their concerned faces.

“Y/n, you alright?” Gil asked, who was more of a parental figure than your own, but you couldn’t ever tell him that. Not because you were scared it would go to his head, no, he wasn’t like that. You just didn’t want it to become awkward since he already needed to worry about Malcolm, you didn’t need him to constantly worry about you on top of it.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You said then realized you still had massive tear stains on your cheeks and puffy eyes from your previous phone call, you forgot to wipe them away before you opened the door.

‘Dammit y/n’ you scolded yourself for making the four of them all worry.

“Um you got somethin’ right,” JT then motioned to his whole face, Dani then elbowed him in the side for his unhelpful comment.

“Oh!” You wiped the sides of your face, “I’m fine guys, just got something in my eye.” You smiled at all of them.

Your head then turned to Malcolm, who squinted his eyes at you. You could tell didn’t believe you at all; he knew all your tells. You could tell that he was going to ask later, but you were sure as hell going to avoid it if you could.

Unable to deal with the silence anymore, you pushed by all of them, apologizing as you went, and walked out to your car. You were done for the day anyways, so you wanted to go home to Malcolm and yours’ apartment.

~

Once you got through the door, you let the dam in your mind open. The flood gate of tears rushed, and there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it; not that you really wanted to anyways. Your hands shook from the rush of emotions going through you, but you forced down the inevitable panic attack until you got to the couch. Your hands continued to uncontrollably shake, and you curled up in a fetal position with your favorite blanket wrapped around you like a tight hug. The words of your mother echoed throughout your fogged mind.

“I knew were selfish… you’re too damn stupid to see past your own needs…”

It just wouldn’t stop. It was like a massive wave going over a surfer; nothing could be done about it, you just needed to ride it out.

You heard a muffled noise coming from behind you but being so caught up and immobilized in your thoughts, nothing could’ve dragged you out of this one, not this time.

 A pair of arms grabbed your shoulders, and there was enough fight left in you to push them away and run into the corner of the apartment. You could slightly see a male figure coming near you, and all you were capable of doing was whimpering and curling up in what you had deemed your safety blanket.

“Y/n… talk to me… happened at… were worried…”

You tried to make out the familiar voice- Malcolm; that’s the only person it could be right? It didn’t matter to you right now; the voice of your mother was stronger than your own thoughts, it always had been.

You felt a thud right next to you, and smelt the subtle sent of his cologne, it brought you back to your senses slightly, but not enough to stop your uncontrollable shaking and tears. He nudged himself closer to your body, and you instinctively laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel yourself calm down, but you knew it was because he was here. Yes, he was helping you ground yourself through the small gesture, but it was mainly that you were embarrassed of him seeing you like this and could feel your body force away the attack.

As you begun to trust yourself to speak, you turned slightly towards Malcolm, a numb look coated your features. “Sorry you had to see that; you shouldn’t have had to.” You spoke meekly, looking down at your still slightly shaky hands in your lap.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

It was once he said that sentence that you knew you needed to come clean about the one secret that you had left from him.

“But I do, I’ve been selfish.”

“How darling?” He said while slowly petting your head, the way you’d comfort a child.

“I didn’t want to tell you, cause you already had so much on your plate, with this case, your family, and I- I just didn’t want to add my family on top of it.” He understood that this must’ve been eating at you for a while, because you normally bottled all your feelings until it broke; unfortunately, that’s why you both got along so well. He never wanted you to feel like that was necessary when you were with him, but how do you bring that kind of thing up?

“What about your family?” he spoke softly. You never spoke about them, hell he’s never even met them but now he felt deep down that he was about to find out why.

“Am I selfish to you? Am I someone you really see yourself with in the long run?” Tears begun to fill your eyes again, and a crack in your voice was evident to Malcolm that you believed in what you were saying about yourself.

He felt a pang of sadness for you in his chest, that was quickly turning to anger at whoever made you feel like you were any less than worth the universe. He composed himself before he responded to your question.

“Far from it, you are the most selfless human being I’ve ever met. There’s now way that a selfish person would’ve done what you did today; going in front of thousands of people and calling out a killer like that, like a badass.” He nudged your shoulder, where he got a slight giggle out of you. It wasn’t a lot, but it was better than nothing.

“And absolutely can I see you with me later on,” He took a deep breath before he continued his statement. “I love you y/n, and if I ever lost you… I don’t even want to think of who I would become. You’re the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.”

You immediately rushed into his arms and embraced him so tightly, afraid that this was all some massive cruel dream, and you’d wake up another day without him knowing. You stayed like this for a moment before Malcolm piped up,

“So, you wanna tell me why the most beautiful person to ever walk the earth is currently crying on our apartment floor at nearly 9 pm?”

You both chuckled at this, as you unwrapped yourself from his arms to look him in his beautiful blue eyes. His eyes were still filled with an underlying anger, but mainly held concern towards you.

“You know when we were at the news station today? And you got a call from the killer?” He nodded, encouraging you to continue.

“Well I also got a call, but it was from my mother. We got into an argument, since she saw the broadcast, and words were said.” You knew that the fine details were going to be said eventually, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“And, what did she say baby?” He answered in a voice that was barely even a whisper, he looked you up and down; most likely looking at your body language to see if you were going to try and lie, but he could tell that you were going to be honest.

“That I was selfish, dumb, questioning where she went wrong with me.” You sniffled and looked to your hands, terrified to see Malcolm’s reaction. Not because he might yell at you, but at what he might do to your mother now that this was his first impression of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Was all he said after some silence.

“You have your own family shit to deal with, I didn’t feel like it was fair on you to dump mine on top of it. I didn’t want you to lose anymore sleep than you already do over something that I need to deal with.”

“…”

“Malcolm? You’re scaring me.” You looked up at him to see him looking out the window, his face glowing from all the nightlife neon lights across the street; he looked so angelic, more than he normally did.

“How didn’t I see this any sooner? I don’t care that you didn’t tell me y/n, I don’t care that your family is screwed up as well. I do care about the fact that I couldn’t help you through it.”

“But Malcolm it wasn’t your fight-” you tried to defend your reasoning, but alas he needed to correct you once more before the night was through.

“You’re right; it’s our fight. To hell with our parents, we’re not our parents; we are our own people. So, from this moment on, I promise to be completely transparent with my baggage as long as you are with me. We can break our constantly bottled-up feelings together.” He gently picked up your hand and laid a kiss on top.

“turn them into shattered glass.” You nodded as you spoke, a smile slowly coming back to your face.

“Just like shattered glass.” He nodded back, returning your smile.

And just like that, the two of you sat down on the couch, cuddling and watching movies as dusk carried on into dawn.

A/n: I hope you guys liked this, I always loved Malcolm’s character and Prodigal son, and with my life being slightly hectic at the moment this was a nice change of pace. Hope you have an amazing day or night, depending on where you are! 💙

-Kate

[madatobiweek2019-2021]

Submission from PeacefulDiscord

Back To Spots

“Are you sure this is a good idea?,” Madara stared at his idiot friend incredulously. “If we die in here, I’m going to kill you Hashirama.”

Hashirama paused his snooping, turning away from the test tubes balancing precariously in his hands. He set them down on the table, a smidge too close to the edge if you asked Madara but whatever. That was Hashirama’s problem when Tobirama saw how displaced everything was. Brown eyes peered woefully at him, tearfully vehement as the other man pouted, though ineffective with the messy state Hashirama was in. Scraps of parchment paper were stuck in his hair, ink streaking across his cheek and speckling his fingers.

Madara crinkled his nose, chucking a handkerchief into Hashirama’s face.

Hashirama beamed, rubbing the cloth against his cheek and smearing the ink more. “I don’t think it will be that bad Madara. Tobirama has a lot of protective seals around his lab to keep it safe!”

“Seals that you’ve no problem getting around!”

It was worrisome really, as foolish as Hashirama was, being related to Tobirama and married to Mito had left him with many chances to learn basic skills. While he could not fully understand the way seals functioned or how to lay them, he knew much too well how to disable some. Some like the ones Tobirama had around his lab.

Not to mention his willingness to disable them.

“Now Madara—,” Hashirama began, shoving the napkin into his pocket before snatching up another scroll that looked newer and striking through yet another one of Tobirama’s protective seals.

“See! Like that! You even took down the damn wall with your Mokuton just to get in here! If we don’t die because of whatever disasters are in here then we will die at your brother’s hands!”

Madara shuddered. The last time he aggravated the younger man he’d found himself on the receiving end on some awful seal that summoned nearby birds and critters to him, drawing them to burrow and nest in his hair. Villagers had flocked around him, curious and far too amused, tittering behind hands as they watched the animals lay siege to Madara’s hair knowing he was too busy running away to scream at them. His hair was ruined, bitten off and tangled so horribly that he had to chop the strands to a length he hadn’t had since being twelve years old.

He can already hear the sharp snap of the younger man’s voice— “Don’t go in my lab without me!"— as if he were standing right there.

"It’s important! He’s been in here for weeks—" Hashirama exclaimed, puppy dog eyes on full force.

"Three days! He was in here for three days and he actually came out to eat and take naps—”

“—and who knows what he’s been getting up to! He could be getting hurt or devising something awful—”

“He’s been making food preserving seals for the past month!”

“Do you remember the chain-reacting explosive tags? The undead jutsu? He said he was working on enhanced storage seals!”

Madara froze, mouth opened to yell, and clamped his lips shut. Tobirama did have a way of spiraling away from his original intentions— it wouldn’t hurt to just look to make sure nothing was too….deviated.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if anything happens I’m chopping your hair off!”

Hashirama squeaked, hands coming up to clutch at his hair. And knocking over the test tubes, sending them careening to the floor with a resounding shatter. Madara watched in horror as the liquids met the black lines of a seal Hashirama had left on the floor— to be analyzed with Mito, he said— and lit them. Colored smoke filled the air and Madara could hear the ground breaking apart moments before Hashirama used Mokuton to send them upwards away from the mess. With a quick wind jutsu, weaker than usual he noticed as his vision swam, Madara sent the smoke into the vent system Tobirama had incorporated early on in case of explosions or dangerous fumes.

Madara rubbed his eyes, carefully lowering himself to the ground. His body was aching— much like the summer over a decade ago when he’d grown almost half a foot in what felt like a few short nights. Coughing, he looked up to see how his friend fared and shrieked.

Sitting in front of him, rubbing his eyes, was Hashirama. But a twelve year old Hashirama. With too big clothes and that godforsaken bowl cut.

“What the fuck! Hashirama, you're—”

“Oh my god, Madara you—”

Madara glanced at his hands. His smaller than before, less calloused hands. “We’re kids again. What the fuck? How? Hashirama!”

He snarled, throwing himself forward to tackle the other man, no, boy, to the ground. “The fuck did you do Senju?!”

“I don’t know— ow! Madara! Don’t, not the face!”

“I'll end you!”

———————————————————-

Half an hour and a semi brutal spar that resulted in Hashirama’s entire face being painted in ink later and both boys were sitting sullenly in the debris they had made of the once pristine lab.

“Tobi’s gonna kill is,” Hashirama sniffled, tears cutting through the black. “I won’t even get to see what my baby looks like.”

“If they’re lucky, nothing like you,” Madara sneered, pulling at the sticky glue-like substance that he’d tumbled into during the fight, snarling angrily as his sleeves still stuck together.

He was surprised his clothes even stayed on, they were so big, but the ties must have worked for something. Hashirama had already wrapped himself up in the excess cloth and tied it off as tightly as he could with his obi and other straps of fabric that he tore from his haori. Madara, on the other hand, would just have to wait.

He tugged at his sleeves again, cursing the glue and Hashirama.

“Ah Madara, don’t be mean!” The brunette sobbed. “My baby would be cute! Even if they looked like me!”

Madara opened his mouth to respond— wanted to sneer that it was good Hashirama knew he wasn’t attractive— but froze as the door opened at just that moment. Red eyes peered distractedly over a thick book, widening as they caught onto the state of the lab. With careful movements, Tobirama lowered the book and set it down, hand reaching for his sword.

“Anija. Madara. What did you do?” He snarled low in his throat, biting through every word like a separate sentence.

The boys blanched, glancing to each other and then shunshinning to the window only for Tobirama to slam his hand against the wall, a seal stretching across the metal to form a barrier they couldn’t get through.

“It was an accident!” Hashirama wailed, gasping through his crocodile tears. “I-am-so so-rry o-tou-to.”

He ran over and clutched at Tobirama’s yukata, burying his messy face into it. “I’m such a bad brother!”

“Anija! Stop that! You’re dirtying my— get off you idiot!”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe and—!”

“By destroying my lab?” Tobirama shoved at Hashirama, stumbling when the boy’s grip didn’t let up. “Damn it, you poisonous vine, let go!”

“Tobi—!”

“I will get Mito-nee in here so fast—”

Hashirama yelped, letting go with a heavy pout. “You don’t have to be like thaaaat,” he whined, scuffing his foot on the ground. “That’s a really low blow, Tobi. How could you do that to your precious brother—”

“After he destroyed my lab and turned he and his idiot friend back into children?” Tobirama snarked, leveling both of them with a sharp glare. “I’ve no idea.”

Madara shuffled guiltily, wincing as he took in the mess they made.

“We can clean it up!” He offered quickly. Hashirama squawked, shaking his head.

“Oh?” Tobirama quirked a brow. “Properly?”

Madara could feel Tobirama’s chakra rise and fall, unsteady and bothered like a riptide, dragging him closer to anger and not letting him calm down, and nodded hastily. Hashirama became frantic in his head shaking, panicked as he looked at the mess miserably,

“Absolutely. No problem. It’ll take an hour. Tops!” Madara promised, grinning a touch sheepishly even as he tossed his friend a glare. “I understand why you’re upset— we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy and we certainly shouldn’t have made such a mess of things. We were concerned but we should have respected your boundaries. You’ve my sincerest apologies Tobirama.”

Tobirama’s gaze softened and he huffed out a breath, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine. You haven’t gotten into anything too important. We now need to figure out what you two have done and fix it. None of my seals were meant to do this.”

Hashirama slumped in relief, “Oh thank god, I hate cleaning— what?”

———————————————————

“Oh wow, I haven’t seen Hashirama look that awful in years," Touka breathed out in wonderment. ”I almost forgot he was such an ugly bastard.“

"Touka-nee, you’re supposed to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t destroy anything, not keep an eye on his confidence to just destroy it,” Tobirama sighed over his brother’s wailing. Then, speaking over the sound of Madara pummeling his brother, asked, “Mito-nee, will you be able to handle the Hokage’s duties in your state?”

His sister-in-law and he were able to deduce that the jutsu, since many had overlapped and were then combined by the liquid soaking through the papers and smudging the inks, would eventually wear off on its own, a few days at most given the seals were not meant for major bends in time and space. And, even without that, it would, or at least should, not take them too long to devise a remedy.

But that was for tomorrow. Now, they were much too tired and irritable.

“My pregnant state, Tobirama?” Mito arched a brow. “You’d be amazed at what I can handle in this state, brother-in-law. The bigger concern is will you be able to handle Madara while Izuna is away?”

Tobirama looked at the two boys now disguised as other, unidentifiable children. Too many people remembered them as children or at least would recognize their features. With their weaker abilities it was best to keep them hidden and separated (they couldn’t last too long without bickering and yelling each other’s name in rage, like the complete idiots they were) to not give away the precarious situation the Village had now found itself in. The jutsu that changed Madara’s haír to a soft, pale blue, gently wishing about his face and skin to an olive tone did nothing to hide the fire in his chakra boiling beneath.

A new student from a distant place— Cloud Country perhaps— that was the story they would go by. A student adopted from parents Tobirama had saved.

The younger man felt a sudden tiredness fill his bones watching Madara blow flames at Hashirama’s shoulder length purple hair only to be slapped at by many flowers that erupted quite spontaneously from the wood paneling on the wall.

This would be a long few days if they couldn’t undo the mess that was made of Tobirama’s work. 

“Izuna may find himself rather alone if he doesn’t hurry back,” he rubbed between his eyes, hand glowing green to chase away the headache. “Who knows? He might thank me.”

He ignored the smirks on his cousin and sister-in-law’s faces, snatching Madara by the wrist and all but hauling him out of Hashirama’s home  to his own. Madara glared and very pointedly took his hand away to instead clasp Tobirama’s in his own, twining their fingers together and smiling triumphantly when Tobirama did nothing but sigh.

Oh yes, it’d be a long few days indeed.

———————————————————

The walk home had been silent, the streets much too empty for distraction and they were inside Tobirama’s home before he could properly gather himself. He could admire the timing, if anything. Just yesterday his house had been strewn with far too many papers and even some dust, given the time he spent in the office or his lab instead. Messes from ruined meals had been spattered across his kitchen and his dirty laundry pile had consisted of all of his clothes save for the set on his back. That was the breaking point, sending him into the cleaning frenzy that lasted clear into early morning, until every corner was cleaned to pristine, his laundry washed, dried, and packed neatly away. It was the most presentable and welcoming his home had ever been and the first time Madara, child or not, would actually step past the threshold.

He resolved to give himself a silent pat on the back, watching carefully as Madara took everything from the bookshelves to the altar in, knowing those hawk-like eyes were looking for dust as his clean freakishness often had him doing and finding none.

The tension seeped from Madara’s shoulders and he carefully took off his shoes, setting them neatly aside as he wandered furthered in, already growing comfortable in Tobirama’s small space. At least, if anything, Tobirama could rest knowing he had made a good impression, hoping it would serve him well when the jutsu finally wore off.

“You know,” Madara began over his bowl of noodles, slurping the noodles gracelessly. “I don’t think your brother would’ve wanted me to come stay with you if he knew I was courting you.”

“You’re a child at the moment— that’s hardly relevant right now,” still Tobirama felt his face warm and he swallowed some of his food quickly to disguise it. What they had while Madara was an adult was— nice. A small secret for just the two of them while they got comfortable with each other.

Just the other day he and the older man had a picnic besides a lake closer to the edges of Konoha, waded deep and relaxed beneath the stars— quiet because they hadn’t needed any words to enjoy just being with each other. It was smiles upon eye contact, soft laughs at little quirks. Thinking of slightly chapped, languid lips against his own, gentle like the brush of fingers on something so invaluably precious and irreplaceable, the feel of coarse hair twisting in his hands and just the comfort of a body pressed to his to block the chill of night air made something warm build in his chest and spread to his cheeks.

It wasn’t so nice a memory to think about when his beau was a mere twelve years old to his twenty-eight however.

Madara set his bowl down carefully. “Does it bother you?”

“Hm?” Tobirama wasn’t used to the other man, boy, being so pensive. He put his scroll down and met Madara’s eyes, concerned.

“Does it bother you to be with me?” Madara clarified, clearing his throat as he sat up straight. “I know with our past, the rumors, and our temperaments— they don’t exactly make for an ideal relationship but…”

Tobirama interrupted. “But yet I have not rejected you or your gifts,” he frowned. “Madara, my only problem before was that— well, I had wanted to keep things private for a bit and have time for us before Anija started planning a wedding and now, well you’re a child now,” he scrunched his nose in disgust, giving Madara a pointed look when the boy stared at him with a fondness much too heady and mature for his age. “It’s best not to think of my attraction to you given the circumstances.”

Madara flushed, looking away quickly. “Ah right.” He paused for a long moment before a cheeky grin pulled at his lips. “I suppose I won’t be allowed to sleep in your room then?”

Tobirama scowled, throwing cold tea into Madara’s face, relishing, privately, the crack of the boy’s voice, so much more high pitched than how Tobirama knew it to be.

———————————————————

“You can’t do that Shouta,” Tobirama hissed between gritted teeth. It was only the second day and he was ready to throw Madara, now going by Shouta, into the deepest, roughest river he could find.

Drawing a deep breath to calm himself, he willed water from the air to douse the flames engulfing the now terrified shopkeeper’s stall.

“He was flirting—” Madara bristled, crossing his arms. “He deserved it!”

Tobirama huffed, apologizing quickly to the shopkeeper and pulling Madara away. “He asked where I got my kimono—”

“Because he was admiring the way it fits you!”

Tobirama cringed. Madara’s voice as an adult never, not once no matter how much he was yelling, ever got so shrill. He would need to invest in earplugs at this rate. Glancing around discreetly, he shoved Madara around the corner, away from prying eyes and dropped to a crouch so they could talk face to face.

“Because he liked the fabric and wanted some pieces made for his daughter! You are completely insufferable, even as a child!” Tobirama snapped.

“I’m protecting your virtue! Hashirama said you never realized when people were interested. And that shopkeeper was interested. I know he was!” Madara protested angrily, before turning away and crossing his arms, grumbling curses under his breath.

Rubbing at his nose— it was a wonder the shape hadn’t changed after all the times his frustration had him irritating it— he sighed explosively before swallowing a quick, calming breath. Younger Madara lacked maturity and sense apparently so Tobirama needed to gain patience.

“Madara, you trust me, correct?” he asked softly.

Madara turned back to him curiously. “Of course.”

“So why would anyone showing interest in me be a reason to get so angry unless you thought I would leave my courtship with you for them? That is a lack of trust towards me Madara,” Tobirama explained. He’d seen too many people treat their partners in such a manner and he detested it. He wanted to be able to be himself without worrying how others would perceive him— he had lived much too long with others in mind.

Madara fiddled at the braided bangs Tobirama had put his hair into, pinky finger touching his lip. 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” he whispered. “I just…don’t like it.”

Tobirama smiled softly. Madara, no matter his age, was always much too protective. He couldn’t fault him though. Not now.

“Let’s go, I have to get some shopping done. I think you already finished all the food I had in the house.”

Madara blushed fiercely, ducking his head so his hair fell in front of his face though he still took Tobirama’s hand in his.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted!” Madara’s free hand was back by his lips again.

“Ah right. Whatever, everything. I see how you could get the words confused,” Tobirama ribbed gently, easily pushing down Madara’s hand so the boy wouldn’t bite his nails. “That’s a bad habit, don’t do that.”

As they passed the still horrified shopkeeper, Madara stood upright, pout replaced with a haughty sneer. “You talking to him won’t change anything. He’s mine.”

Tobirama flushed, letting out an awkward laugh as the other villagers eyed him in curious amusement.

“New student,” he grimaced through an explanation. “You know how they are.”

“We know how they are with you Tobirama-sama!” Someone called out, drawing more chuckles from the crowd.

“He’s so cute!” A lady smiled, gently patting Madara’s head as she passed by. “If only people closer to our age were like this, hmm, Tobirama-sama?”

Madara preened under the attention, tugging Tobirama closer and intertwining their fingers, much to the growing entertainment of the entire marketplace. Tobirama thanked every kami for his happuri, casually activating the seal on the side to cool his flaming skin.

If he let Hiruzen test his monkey summon on Madara later that day, no one would have to know (something that was more terrifying without the ability to use his sharingan anymore, having been sent back to an age where he did not have them).

Not that that stopped Madara from yelling at anyone that showed a smidgeon of too much interest in Tobirama to “get their own boyfriend”.  ———————————————————

“Madara, you needn’t carry everything,” Tobirama sighed, watching fondly as the boy shifted the basket and bags about in his arms, stumbling along as they made their way back to Tobirama’s home. “I am perfectly capable of carrying my own groceries.”

It was only the fourth day of Madara’s stay and they’d run out of groceries again. Especially the few sweets he had bought just for Madara. Those were gone within moments.

Madara squawked suddenly, one leg tripping over the other, and went sprawling to the ground. With a quick shunshin, Tobirama dropped a scroll onto the dirt to catch all the groceries, letting his free hand shoot out to grab Madara and pull him upright. Straightening the young boy’s collar, he snatched up the now rolled scroll and tucked it into his pocket.

“Like I said, perfectly capable of carrying my groceries,” he drawled. Catching sight of Madara’s embarrassed pout— and oh, he made that exact expression as an adult too!— hair moving forward to hide his face again, Tobirama pushed the unruly strands back with an indulgent smile. “How about we get some dango?”

The word koibito hovered on the tip of his tongue but he bit it back. He was getting rather impatient waiting on this jutsu to let up.

He ignored the flicker of ire and almost-sadness, grinning as Madara’s face lit up. If anything, he was given quite the ideal opportunity to know his suitor. He could enjoy it while it lasted.

———————————————————

“Save me,” Mito snarled as soon as he and Madara stepped through the door. Her face was splotchy and she seemed less composed than ever. “Before I kill your brother.”

Tobirama blinked, eyes searching, landing on his brother sat in the corner and facing the wall. “Mito-nee—”

“Because Hashirama doesn’t realize being in his childhood body doesn’t mean he can act like a child. He keeps making messes and being too loud and, Hashirama if I hear you wailing one more time—”

“Breathe Aneue,” Tobirama held his hands up placatingly.

Mito heaved a breath, pushing her hair behind her ear before resting her hands on her belly. Her eyes were watering when she looked back at Tobirama. “We need to work on the jutsu Tobirama. I can't— with the Hokage duties and watching Hashirama and feeling sick all the time—”

Tobirama nodded. “Go sit, Aneue. Madara—”

“I can make you some tea, Mito-hime,” the boy said, bowing quickly and heading to the kitchen. “Ginger maybe? Or chamomile?”

Mito stared at him in wonderment. “How—I thought he’d be like Hashirama. I was sure of it. Has he been well-behaved this entire week?”

Tobirama smiled sheepishly. “More or less.” He frowned, sending a hard look to the boy all but wilted over himself. “Has Anija been giving you a lot of trouble?”

“Not really—” she glanced at the boy. “Hashirama, can you be a dear and help Madara in the kitchen please?”

Hashirama sprang from his seat, wiping his eyes and nodding hurriedly. “Of course Mito-!”

The rest of the sentence was lost as he scurried away.

“I just need my husband, Tobirama. Not this child who can’t keep his hands off my belly or food in his mouth. I— he’s not even being bad! Not really, just—”

“Overwhelming?”

Mito gave a small nod, looking horribly miserable.

“He was like that as a child. He only learned more restraint as an adult when he realized he kept accidentally hurting others in his enthusiasm,” Tobirama rolled his eyes, heart feeling a little too fond given the grievances his brother had put him through. Once, Hashirama had fractured his ribs with a hug. He’d hoped, however, that Hashirama would not fall back on childhood habits.

He should’ve seen it though— Madara had after all. The flailing, the quirky habits, threatening with fire— wait no, he did that as an adult— but everything else was so painstakingly innocent. Tobirama should’ve really kept a closer watch on Hashirama.

“I’ve been working on the jutsu, a little while longer and I believe I will be able to undo everything,” he reassured.

Mito sighed in relief, pulling Tobirama into a hug as best as she could around the swell of her stomach. Tobirama let her hold onto him for a few long moments, talking softly of the progress he made with the seals and making note of her suggestions, before coaxing her into the kitchen to eat.

And let Mito freeze, hiding his smile at her surprise. Dishes were neatly laid across the table, a cup of steaming tea covered with a small plate and placed by Mito’s seat. Madara grinned at them from beside the stove, turning at a pot.

“I’m making ramen! I know it’s nothing fancy but you seemed stressed and tired so I thought you might want something easier to eat so you can go rest sooner.”

Mito blinked. Settled herself into her seat and took a sip of her tea, humming appreciatively. “I didn’t even remember having those spices.”

“You didn’t,” Madara frowned. “I don’t know what the hell you two are eating but without these,” he gestured to the various small bottles he had set on the counter, “it can’t be anything good. I sent Hashi to Tobi’s. I made him buy these earlier.”

Hashirama grinned, swinging his feet from where he sat atop the counter. “See! I helped! I even set the table!”

He looked at Mito hopefully and she smiled. “Thank you Hashirama. Thank you Madara.”

Both boys beamed proudly though Madara quickly ducked behind his hair, adorably bashful. “It’s very simple. I hope you find it as pleasing as the effort.”

Mito smiled encouragingly, taking the pot from Madara and helping share it into the bowls. “I am certain it is delightful Madara.”

Madara blushed a bit brighter, settling quickly in front of his own bowl.

“Itadakimasu!”

Tobirama grinned, making sure to limit his own portion as he watched his brother’s and sister-in-law’s eyes open with surprise, noises of appreciation slipping past their lips as they dug in with a little more vigor than would be polite. Mito and Hashirama were sure to want seconds. Maybe even thirds.

Madara’s eyes darted to Tobirama’s bowl and he looked up with confusion, eyes silently asking if Tobirama were okay. Smiling gently, Tobirama glanced at their other two companions before dropping Madara a wink.

It was okay. He’d get Madara to cook for him later.

———————————————————

“I uh want to go look for berries at the river! From over there!” Madara called out awkwardly, shuffling from one foot to the other.

Hashirama looked up from the berries he and Tobirama were picking. He looked bemused for all of two seconds before his lips spread in a wicked grin that he hid behind his basket. “Okay!”

Tobirama, too busy separating the berries (and perhaps sneaking a few to eat) just nodded distractedly, only looking up when Hashirama stood up a few minutes later. “Anija?”

“Let’s go look at the river too, Tobi!”

Rolling his eyes, Tobirama let himself be pulled down the path Madara took, frowning when he heard something like a trickle of water when usually the river was silent during these times of low-tide. As they neared, he could just faintly make out Madara’s hair and, just before he could call out, watched Hashirama throw himself out of the bushes right behind the other boy.

Madara’s back went ramrod straight.

“Still can’t go when someone’s behind you?” Hashirama laughed loudly, finger pointing.

Madara whirled around just as Tobirama stepped through the bushes, face cherry red and mouth open to scream at Hashirama. Upon seeing Tobirama, he burned even redder, looking for all the world humiliated and betrayed as he hissed at Hashirama to shut up.

And suddenly so many other things made sense. Madara’s insistence to wait until Tobirama was far too distracted or not even in the house to use the restroom, mumbled excuses of needing privacy to go do something like clean or having to water plants of all things (“better for him to get the job done correctly”) keeping the bathroom door firmly locked even though Tobirama had not once known him to be body shy. Hell, just that morning Madara thought it appropriate to walk around the house with nothing but a small towel wrapped about his waist.

Madara was shy to use the bathroom around…anyone apparently. Tobirama bit back a laugh, frowning instead when he saw Madara hide more behind his hair, the tip of his nose reddening as he curled as much into himself as he could.

Tobirama could feel the headache coming. Why did he think agreeing to watch over both of them was a good idea? Oh right, so Mito could rest and Touka wouldn’t feel tempted to commit treason by killing one of the two brats. Especially given the fiasco that happened yesterday when Touka was in his shoes so he and Mito could work on the seal more.

He really was too kind for his own good.

“Anija!” Tobirama snapped. “Stop wasting time bothering Madara.”

“But Tobi—” Hashirama whined. “I—”

“We are going to pick berries at the river mouth—Madara already has this area covered.”

That would put them far off out each other’s sight so Madara could have his privacy and still be close enough for Tobirama to come if anything were to happen. He dragged his brother away without another word, missing the besotted and grateful look Madara shot him.

It wasn’t too long until Madara joined them again, flicking his hands through a much too familiar sign and setting the edge of Hashirama’s clothing on fire. Shrieking, Hashirama took off upstream before Tobirama could douse him with water, passing the place Madara had been and diving beneath the river surface.

“I suppose that was fair,” Tobirama mused. “I don’t think he got hurt at least.”

Madara scuffed the ground with his shoe, voice soft when he responded.  “Yeah.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. While I’m certainly surprised your bladder cooperated with your discomfort in quite the opposite manner than I would have expected—”

The boy flushed deeper. “No! I um yeah that’s odd but I um, I actually have something for you!”

“Oh?” Tobirama raised a brow. “Did you get something you were with Touka?”

Madara shook his head, determinedly looking at his shoes. “No I, I meant to give this to you earlier but then,” he waved his hand about awkwardly. “-all of this happened instead.”

Tobirama squinted, nose wrinkled. “Before you do that, did you wash your hands?”

The Uchiha squawked. “Of course I did! I’m not your brother! Stupid Senju—!” He shoved a small box in Tobirama’s hands as he continued his tirade against the Senju Clan.

Ignoring him— Tobirama had gotten quite good at that even before they began courting— he opened the box carefully and stilled. Inside was a small chain with a circular tanzanite pendant, a silver dragon figurine curled around one edge, its tail curling up to connect the pendant to the chain, and a silver leopard figurine stretched along the opposite edge. Their eyes were little red gems, pyrope, and almost exactly the shape and shade of his eyes. The only difference was the trace of black cutting through the red, carving Madara’s mangekyou into the dragon’s eyes.

Tobirama felt his breath catch.

“Madara—”

“You like both those animals! And, and you said I'm— that having me around is like having you’re own personal dragon so I…” his voice fell to little over a whisper. “I had that made for you. So it’s like I’m always around, like we’re always together.”

And now Tobirama’s eyes were watering, happy tears, and wasn’t that an idea. After so much grief, after never once even humoring such an absurdity as crying happily like his brother, Tobirama was well on the verge of doing the same.

Falling to his knees, he pulled the Uchiha into his arms, habit leading him to tuck his face against Madara’s hair. “I find myself really wishing you weren’t a child right now.”

Madara stroked a hand through Tobi’s hair, returning the hug tightly with a disgruntled pout. “Me too. This is fucking annoying. I want to kiss your pretty face, damn. Why’s that so much to ask for?”

“What!”

Hashirama stood gaping behind them, horror and anger twisting his features. “You’re dating my brother?”

“Anija—” Tobirama sighed, hand going right for the bridge of his nose.

“No!” Hashirama yelled, stomping his foot, childishly if not for the Mokuton poking through the dirt. “No, you don’t get to say anything! You were supposed to tell me before— don’t bother explaining or, or giving excuses now! I forbid it!”

Tobirama reeled back in shock. Not once, not even in the worse of Hashirama’s anger, had he ever tried to silence Tobirama.

“What?" Madara growled. "You what?”

Hashirama snarled. “I forbid you from dating my brother.”

The plants and grass were growing, leaves and stems thickening, hardening, and coiling up towards Madara.

“You can’t do that!”

“I can! And I will! I know you! I know your habits—”

“My habits?”

“All that damn time— you can’t handle a long-term relationship! And I’m not letting you use my brother, you backstabbing—” Hashirama was shaking with rage. “You, you bastard!”

With a yell, he lunged towards Madara recklessly only to be thrown over the Uchiha’s shoulder. Madara kneeled onto Hashirama’s chest, wrapping a hand around his throat, body also trembling with fury.

Tobirama moved to separate them, hands grabbing at Madara’s shoulders.

“I love him!” Madara yelled. “I love him! And you don’t get a damn say in any of it!”

Hashirama stopped clawing at Madara’s hands and Tobirama’s own hands went slack. Madara spun to look at him, sharingan burning in his eyes. Something like desperation seemed to spin in the commas.

“You hear me? I love you.”

Perhaps with the best timing ever, the air filled with smoke, startling them all apart. Tobirama covered his eyes as a bright light danced between the wisps and tossed the scroll he’d kept packed with Hashirama’s and Madara’s clothes into the fog, right at the red eyes looking back at him. When it dissipated, a Madara, an adult Madara (thankfully somewhst properly dressed) was standing there, sharingan still spinning in his eyes as he stared at Tobirama. No words passed before the two men pressed their lips together, hands tangling in each other’s hair. Something wet trickled down their cheeks and Tobirama couldn’t tell if the tears were coming from his eyes or Madara’s.

“I love you, I love you,” Madara whispered between kisses. And Tobirama nodded as of to answer some unspoken question.

“You love him?” Hashirama whispered, eyes flooding with tears. He tugged a haori over his shoulders. “You love my baby brother? You’re not just— Oh. Oh Madara I thought you were— oh I’m so happy!”

They weren’t paying attention to Hashirama’s babbling though, too transfixed and overly emotional at the admission of a confession they had been denying themselves.

“I’ve missed you,” Tobirama murmured, pressing his forehead against Madara’s. “Don’t ever go in my lab without me again.”

Madara laughed shakily. “Never. I’m never going anywhere without you ever again." 

———————————————————

Omake:

Hashirama wailed, squirming against the chains and seals in vain to get away as Madara used his kama to shear his long brown locks down to the base of his scalp.

"I told you I’d chop your hair off, bastard!” Madara cackled. “Now stay still before I accidentally take your head off!”

“I can’t believe you disguised yourself as Mito!” Hashirama sobbed. “I can’t believe she and Tobirama helped you! Traitors!”

Madara just laughed louder and continued hacking at Hashirama’s hair.

[diagnosed-by-doyle]

Hi! Could I please ask for headcanons for Theo, Arthur and Napoleon? Their S/o is overworking herself in her studies and collapses. Just really feeling the uni stress, so thank you!

Me too, friend. Me too.

~~~~~

Arthur

He notices that, for the past week, your bedroom light is on long past the usual time. He knows that you’ve been trying to get through a lot of work, but are you getting enough sleep?

He knocks on your door lightly. After not getting an answer, he opens the door to find you asleep at your desk. The sight would have been adorable if he wasn’t so worried about your health. Did this happen frequently? He’d have to keep an eye on you.

Early the next morning, he finds you in the library searching for a particular book. Frowning for a moment, he decides that it’s time to make his move. He slips his arms around your waist from behind, catching you off guard. 

“It’s just me, love. You’ve been so busy lately that I’ve gotten lonely. Indulge me for a few minutes?”

You turn around and give him a tired smile as you take his hands off of you. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I just have so much to do still. When I get a break, I’m all yours. I promise.”

He watched with worry as you walked to the next shelf. His plan failed, and he could only speculate when your body would fail you due to the pressure you were under.

His question was answered seconds later when he noticed you start to sway. He was behind you in an instant and caught you before you could fall very far. 

When you regained consciousness, you found that he was carrying you in his arms while he walked toward your bedroom. “Arthur?”

“Hm? Good morning, MC! Enjoy your nap?” His voice was cheery as usual, but you didn’t miss the anxious look in his eyes.

When he finally got to your room, he put you to bed and refused to let you do any work until he was convinced that you’d had an ample amount of rest.

Napoleon

Every time he’d seen you recently, you’d either had your face in a book or were scrawling something across a piece of paper. It was clear to him that you didn’t realize how this was affecting you. Everyone could see that you were exhausted.

When it became a topic of discussion at the dining room table one afternoon when you skipped a meal to keep working, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. 

He marched up to your room to get you to take some time to rest. He knocked but received no answer. When he opened the door, he saw that you were staring down at a book while you wrote something down. You must have been so focused that you hadn’t heard him.

He placed his hand over yours, making you stop the motion of the pen. You looked up at him, surprise evident on your face. He also noticed how your eyes were bloodshot and drooping. Had you even slept last night?

“You need to rest.”

You turned back to your book. “I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

He didn’t like hearing you say that. Your stubbornness and determination were things he liked about you, but this was too much. It wasn’t healthy.

“I need more paper.” You mumbled to yourself in an annoyed tone as you stood and started reaching for the rest of the paper you had placed on the end of your bed. You didn’t get three steps back to your desk before you collapsed. He caught you just before you hit the floor, the papers you previously held were now scattered across the floor.

When you woke a moment later, you were in your bed. Napoleon was stroking your hair and giving you a small, sweet smile. “I told you to rest, nunuche.”

He stayed at your bedside for as long as it took you to get back to full health. He fed you and brought whatever you asked for except, of course, your textbooks and papers.

Theo

He was used to overworking himself, but his body could handle it. You, however…You were a human with a fragile body. It made him angry that you were doing this to yourself.

The entire time he was at work, he’d be thinking about you, hoping you hadn’t passed out in a place where no one would think to look for you.

Whenever he was done, he’d rush home just to check on you. Much to his relief, you were sitting in your room. Unfortunately, you were still studying that unnaturally thick book.

He’d leave you alone for now. He’d come to check on you again once he got done seeing how Vincent’s painting was coming along.

On his way back from Vincent’s art room, he saw you walking down the hall. He called out to you to get your attention. “Hondje!”

You stopped and turned around when you heard his nickname for you. “Oh, hi. Have you been home long?”

He could hear in your voice how tired you were. He could see how you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“No, not long. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go borrow some ink from Arthur. I forgot I used the last of mine yesterday.”

He looked you over once, and his expression turned disapproving. “Go to bed. You’ve done enough for a while.” It was neither a request nor a suggestion. It was a command.

You sighed in defeat. You weren’t happy about it, but you’d humor him for now. Just as you were about to head back to your bedroom, a wave of dizziness came over you. Then there was nothing.

When you woke up, you were lying in the middle of Theo’s bed. Hearing you shift in the sheets, Theo looked up from the paper he was reading. When he saw that you were awake, he put it down and sat on the bed next to you.

“What happened?”

“You overworked yourself, hondje. Stay here for a while so no one will bother you while you rest.”

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Painted Souls Part 3

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Eventual Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Klaus Mikaelson x Caroline Forbes, Elena Gilbert x Damon Salvatore

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Nope none at all. 

Author’s Note: Welcome to part 3 my lovelies. This one is a repeat of the same day, but in Elijah’s view of things. I hope you guys enjoy it. And I promise that they’ll meet soon. 

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

<< Part 2 || Part 4 >>

"It looks like someone is having fun." Freya said as she held out a coffee cup to Elijah.

Elijah's eyebrow raised slightly. "What do you mean?" He asked as he took a hold of the coffee cup.

"I'm assuming your soulmate is painting again." She said as she pointed to his forehead where the was currently a swipe of white paint across it. "Either that or you were painting your apartment and didn't look in the mirror before you left."

"I can assure you I wasn't the one painting." He gave his sister a small smile before he looked at his watch. "My soulmate has been painting for almost three hours now. I'd be surprised if there wasn't a smudge on my face somewhere."

Freya chuckled. "At least you can appreciate the work they must be putting into it. Have you tried speaking with them?"

The look on Elijah's face had said all that Freya needed to know. He hadn't. No matter how many times the writing or the paint appeared to let him know there was someone else on the other side of this connection, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Freya sighed and shook her head slightly. "You know maybe if you actually responded, you'd feel better about moving on from Celeste."

"Freya." Elijah warned before taking a drink out of his coffee.

She shrugged slightly. "I'm just saying. Your soulmate is supposed to be the best person out there for you. Yet after that heartbreak, you haven't done a thing to try and get to know who is on the other side of this." She said as she tapped the paint on his forehead.

Freya was right, much like any older sibling was from time to time. Elijah had only deeply loved one person for the majority of his life. Celeste had been a childhood friend to the Mikaelsons. She was closer to Elijah in many ways that made Elijah believe that even if there was a soulmate out there, Celeste was it for him.

At least that was until Celeste had actually met her soulmate after heading to college. While she had loved Elijah, there was something about her soulmate that just made her feel whole and she left Elijah without a second thought. It left Elijah broken. While he could play it off that he was fine, deep down it was something he couldn't easily move on from.

And while he may have thought he was crazy, that same day his own soulmate tried talking to him. Part of him wanted to believe that they knew something was going on with him and wanted to reach out. While he had been used to the paint splatters and occasional notes that would show up on his skin, this was the first time he had ever seen words specifically for him.

Hey, I know this is a little strange trying to communicate like this, but I just wanted to apologize for all the paint. I've got this huge project due. I promise I'll give you a break from the paint soon.

Elijah must have read over the words over and over for as long as they had been on his skin. There were a few times where he almost picked up a pen to write back, but he couldn't get himself to do it. Not with how he currently felt. The moment he decided not to reply to the message, he watched as the ink faded from his skin, indicating that it had been washed off.

"What about you?" Elijah asked taking the questions off of him. "Have you finally given into whoever is on the other side of yours?"

Freya grinned at that. "As a matter of fact, I have. Keelin and I will be meeting later this week. If I hadn't put it off, we would have met a few months ago when she was out here for a month. Something to think about."

Elijah rolled his eyes. "As much as I would love to continue this conversation, we have a meeting to attend." Without another word, Elijah made his way into the building that they had been standing outside of.

Freya shook her head, a small smile on her face, as she watched her brother walked away. One of these days, she was going to give him the push he needed to actually speak with his soulmate.

________

Elijah ran his hand over his face as the meeting with his client came to an end. He and his older siblings all worked at Mikaelson Law Firm. While he covered a majority of the cases that involved with media contracts, Freya handled family courts and Finn was a divorce lawyer.

It had been a long day overall and Elijah was definitely ready to leave the office for the day. It didn't help that from time to time he'd catch a few ink marks appear on his fingers before they vanished some time later. It made him think about what Freya had been telling him earlier that day.

The knock at the door had caused him to leave his current thoughts and look up to see Freya standing at the door. He gestured for her to enter and she gave him a smile.

"All done for the day?" She asked as she took a seat across from him.

"Very." He nodded as he stretched a bit in his seat.

"I know just the thing to make it all better." She suggested.

"Drinks?" He asked knowing what was coming.

Laughing, she shook her head. "That too I guess. But after a long day at work, sending Keelin a message always helped."

"There is a difference between you and I on that." Elijah noted. "I don't actively speak with my soulmate."

"It's really not that hard to." Freya knew she was probably pressing her luck with trying to convince him to do something again. But something was telling her it was time to push him out of this stubbornness.

"And say what?" He asked as he stood from his seat. "I apologize for not saying anything all this time."

"I'm sure they'd understand." She shrugged. "I know I would. You've been through a lot Elijah. We all have our pasts while waiting for our soulmates to be present in our lives. Who ever is on the other side is going to be okay with what you've gone through."

"With my luck, they've given up." He began unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves.

But it was as he had been doing to, Freya had noticed the writing that had been appearing on his arm. A smirk grew on her lips seeing it.

"Now if that's not a sign, I don't know what is." She said pointing to the message on his arm. "By the looks of it, you are being invited to an art gallery."

"What makes you so sure that it is for me?" He asked with a roll of his eyes. "For all I know it could be another memo." His eyes moved to the writing. He had grown so used to the handwriting that he could easily read it even if it was rushed.

"Is that why you haven't stopped looking at it?" Freya asked a moment later after watching her brother take in the information it provided.

Elijah sighed as he dropped his arm. "What am I supposed to do? Just show up there?"

Freya reached over and placed her hand on his arm. "Write something. Anything. It wouldn't hurt." She gave him a small smile. "Don't forget we're heading out tonight."

"How can I forget?" He asked with a chuckle. "You've made it a ritual."

"That’s one hell of a ritual." She shook her head before making her way towards the door. "Don't be late this time, Elijah."

"Alright." He called out as she left the office.

His eyes moved back to the words on his skin. He ran his thumb over it for a moment before making a decision. Not wanting to think twice about it. He quickly wrote something out underneath the memo that was there.

I wouldn't miss it. -E

Not wanting to lose the information, he quickly wrote it down on the notepad that sat on his desk. As much as he hate to admit that his sister was right, he knew that he needed to give this a try. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd do one he was there, but it was better than not doing anything at all.

_____

"Is Nik not coming?" Rebekah asked as she sat down at the table with her other siblings.

"He's out of town, visiting Marcel." Finn noted. No matter how many times they came to this bar for Freya's 'ritual' Finn always looked as if he'd rather be elsewhere.

"Oh right. I forgot that was this week. At least this time we wont have to deal with him ignoring us for whatever conversation is going on on his arm." She rolled her eyes at that.

"Like you wouldn't be doing the same damn thing, sister." Kol grabbed a hold of the glass that he had in front of him and took a drink. "Either that or flirting your way through the men in this place."

"That's enough, Kol." Elijah said as he shook his head at his younger siblings. It never ceased to amaze him how often the two seemed to bicker about anything and everything.

"Speaking of which!" Freya said as she clapped her hands together. "Did you happen to respond to yours?"

"Wait, are you finally moving on from Cel?" There was excitement in Rebekah's question.

As much as she had loved having Celeste around. She hated how she had ended things with her brother. All she wanted to see was her brother happy and if it meant that he finally responded to the writing on his arms. She and Freya had been trying to convince him to do it for years and hearing that he might have actually done it, she was hopeful.

"It is none of your business if I did or not." He said with a shrug. He had kept a straight face while saying it as well. He didn't need his siblings pressuring him or asking several questions about the whole thing.

To be honest, he had been expecting a response to what he had written. But there had been nothing in return. Not long after he had written his message, he watched as the memo faded from his skin, prompting him to wash off his own.

"You should have seen him earlier." Freya said as she looked towards Rebekah. "It was quite interesting to watch a stripe of paint form on his forehead."

Rebekah laughed. "Was it like the other time where the yellow splatters started forming on his cheeks?"

"You do realize that I'm sitting right here, right?" Elijah asked with a raised brow. "You two never give the others this many problems when it comes to the soulmate thing."

"None of us have an artistic soulmate." Kol noted. "Though it is the reverse for Klaus. His poor soulmate must hate how much he paints seeing as he practically has a canvas attached to him."

"Wasn't Nik supposed to get a tattoo today?" Rebekah looked at her siblings.

"If it is anything like the last, I feel sorry for his soulmate." Finn brought his own glass to his lips, taking a long drink.

Freya chuckled. "I doubt he'd get anything that was hideous."

"Are we talking about the same Klaus?" Kol asked. "Cause if it's not on a canvas, I'm pretty sure that he'd put it on his skin."

"Elijah!" A new voice could be heard over their conversation.

"Bloody hell, does she just wait until we are here to make a move?" Kol asked as he turned to look at who was currently making their way over.

"Well, there goes my night." Rebekah sighed before she caught the passing waitress and ordered another round of drinks.

"Dear sister, I think this ritual of yours is about to be plagued." Finn said with an amused look on his face.

From the moment Elijah heard his name being called, he rested his head in his hand. While he was looking forward to the usual night out with his siblings, this was becoming a habit and he wasn't looking forward to this part of the night.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be Katherine?” Kol asked as she approached the table. 

An annoyed look formed on her face as she looked over at Kol. “I’ve just come over here to speak with your brother. Not you.”

Elijah sighed and looked towards Katherine. “What is it? I’d like to enjoy my night with my siblings.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Have you given any thoughts to what I asked you?"

Elijah had to hold back the laugh that wanted to form. He hadn't thought about it at all. "No, I haven't thought about it."

He hadn't been interested at all in the woman's proposal. The one time Rebekah had been drunk enough to spill a few different things to Katherine had been all it took to get the woman interested in him.

“Just in case you change your mind.” She grabbed a hold of his hand and began writing in the palm of his hand. “Here is my number. Just give me a call.”

Elijah rolled his eyes as he pulled his hand back. It wouldn’t be long before he washed it off. He had no intentions and probably would never even think about taking Katherine up on her offer. 

“Good bye Katherine.” He said as he turned his attention back towards his siblings. Katherine must have stood there for another moment before leaving. Rebekah and Freya shook their heads the moment she did. 

“She doesn’t give up does she?” Kol laughed. 

“Might be time to get a restraining order in place.” Finn said with a slight shrug. 

“You’d think she’d get the hint.” Elijah said with a shrug. 

As his siblings continued to talk about the whole thing, Elijah felt his phone vibrate with in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw he had gotten a message from Klaus. Unlocking the screen, he read the message. 

So Katherine tried giving you her number again

Elijah's eyebrow raised as he reread the message to ensure he had in fact read it correctly. He turned around in his seat searching the place to for his brother. If his brother knew, he must be around there somewhere.

“What is it?” Rebekah asked as she watched him look around. 

“It’s nothing.” He said as she looked back at the phone. He typed a quick response and sent it. 

How do you know that? I thought you were in Richmond.

It wasn't long before his phone chimed in again with a message from his brother.

Because I just watched as Katherine's name and number appeared on a new friend of mine.

Followed by another.

A lovely artist who is excited about her showing at Richmond Gallery next week and that you'll be attending.

Elijah's eyes widened at the texts. His brother had in fact been gone all day. While Freya had known about the information that appeared on his arm, she didn’t know anything about it being her gallery showing. He hadn’t even mentioned that he agreed to attending the showing to anyone. 

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. Words in that moment couldn't be formed in his mind. He wanted to know more about the artist his brother spoke about. After a few moments his thumbs finally moved creating a message. 

You are with her?

The minute long wait had Elijah nervous. While his brother had his eyes set on his own soulmate, he knew how his brother could be at times. 

Check your wrist.

Elijah’s eyebrow raised as he set the phone down on the table and began checking his wrists as his brother had said. Sure enough on the inside of his right wrist was everything to confirm he was with her in that moment. 

The Mikaelson Crest in Klaus’ artistic style was still forming on his wrist. It was right there in view of even his siblings. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Rebekah asked.

The others had been watching Elijah from the moment he had finished looking around. It made them even more curious as to why all of the sudden he was looking at his wrists. From each of their spots, they could easily see the family crest begin to form. There was no mistaking that. 

Elijah nodded slightly. “Our brother is currently with my soulmate.”

Part 4

Always & Forever Tag: @taylordrunkonwhiskey @thewolf-and-thesheep @wayward-dan @neeadinghugs @fafulous @kenmen02 @elizamonet @dora-the-grownup @mschellehitt @xanderling @fandom-princess-forevermore

Painted Souls Tag: @xanderling @inmylifeilovedthemall @graciejunie @fandom-princess-forevermore @this-is-mycrisis @une-lueur-dans-la-nuit  @ignorantly-apathatic @carostar2020 @shanty-lol @generallyclumsy @gwenawesomeness @x-memi12

Stag Tag:  @elejah-wonderland @cheers-my-dears-16 @xxsoveriegnsarayaxx

As always, if your tag is in bold, I cannot tag you for some reason. If you would like to be added to or taken off the taglist, please let me know. ♥

[sp00ks-odyssey]

Day 7 NOW KISS!!

WARNING!! Lots and lots of fluff, intense smooching, insecure thoughts, bit of depression, sad things, and uhh......whatever else I forgot

Last one guys....then it’s over (´ . .̫ . `)

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

Ink was acting off I have tried to hang out with him but he would suddenly make a portal and leave not even talking to me, I became the cuddly one trying to cuddle him and gain his attention craving physical contact but he refused and would push me away, Ink would be in his room or gone at night so I slept alone, I got lonely and sad and wondered what was happening........

I roamed around Underswap looking at the scenery, I got bored while Ink, Dream and Blue went to help another Au that morning and I needed time to myself, Blue said I could visit his world whenever I wanted to cause his brother was there and would help if I needed anything, Ink agreed to this sadly randomly kicking me out of the house to go visit Underswap whenever he came home early after an Au rescue. I squinted confused at a tree I was passing, it was green but now it looked grey, I blinked and shook my head seeing it was green again.

A portal suddenly opened a few steps away stopping me in my tracks, Dream and Blue came running out looking worried. 

______________________

I walked into Ink's living room where Dream sent me through the portal he made to see Ink sitting there with an empty look, blank white eyes and staring at the wall: 

He hadn't had his paints I knew he hadn't, I walked over flinching a little as he rudely shoved his satchel at me and told me to get rid of the viles, I looked at the satchel noticing all his bottles were full and he didn't drink any of them, the colors still swirling around in their containers. I frowned walking up to him and tried giving him one to drink but he shoved it away.

"I said get rid of them!!" He shouted as I backed up fearfully:

I don't wanna get rid of them, he needs them to feel something..............

************************

"Why won't you just take them?? Please!!" I pleaded desperately for the fifth time trying to get him to take even just one bottle, he just sat there on the couch not moving looking at me with an emotionless expression. I tried forcing it in his mouth but he moved his head away not opening his mouth so I could give him the paint. 

I became desperate and frustrated this was not the Ink I knew, we had moments like this before when he forgot to take them but this time I knew he hadn't taken them for a few days on purpose:

What is he trying to prove by not taking these?? Is this why he was acting off??

 My newly healed but still damaged soul shuddered a little at the thought that he was gonna refuse his viels and soon he would just be an empty shell. I desperately tried to figure out why he was doing this: Dream and Blue said nothing about why just that they needed my help cause he was acting off and not able to help them save any Au in this state. He looked at me not moving at all, I slowly put the viel back in the satchel and looked up at him with sad eyes.

 "You really won't take them will you?" I asked hearing my own sad voice, he just kept looking at me with those empty eyes. I was upset that he chose to do this and just sat there next to him on the couch, 

I looked up at him and he looked down at me with no emotion in his eyes and no hint of the smile I knew he always had. My thoughts started getting the best of me messing up my attempts to get him to take them:

I am so useless!! Not even I can give him the emotions he needs, I told myself I wasn't the one for him, he would be better off without me, he can't feel anyways so he would not even miss me if I just left him here, I knew my soul was too weak, he fixed my soul but it needs more time I can't save a soul-less person if I can't even keep my own soul alive even after it's been healed. What was I thinking? I can't save someone who has no soul if I can't even save my own soul,

Sitting in the house watching him look at me emotionless, and remembering how he always kept pushing me away the last few days made my soul shudder again and I heard the all too familiar crack, I flinched but looking at him he didn't bat an eye socket, it was just too much for me, too sad to see.

I closed my eyes shaking my head and looked down at the viles on the satchel determined to get him to drink one just one, I froze: Every vile I was looking at was just grey.

Where are the colors!!?? 

I looked up to see everything in the room black and white and I freaked out:

Why is this happening?!! Why can't I see any colors??!! Am I becoming colorblind!!? How is that possible??? 

I snapped out of my rant feeling breathing on me and looked up seeing Ink looking at me, he was really close to my face and I backed up a little kinda freaked out. 

"Your soul made that crack noise again” He said with no emotion or concern in his voice, 

He actually heard that??

"It did?? Huh...how many times?" I asked,

"Four times" He said, I sighed sadly and looked at the grey viles,

"Well, I am just frustrated" I muttered, 

"Why" He asked though I knew he didn't really care: How could he? He had no emotions.

"You need to take these” I said ignoring his question and looking at him desperately,

"No"

"WHY NOT!!" 

"I don't need them”

"YEAH YOU DO!!!"  

"Not anymore”

"Well.....why not just take one? At least one?” I asked looking down hesitantly,

"Ummm how about this one??" I said picking up a random one,

"It's the yellow one, you need to be happy right?" I looked at him hoping I had the yellow one, he looked at me a lot longer than he had before and forced an emotionless chuckle out.

"That is the red one" I blushed looking down at the one I picked,

"Oh! Heh, I knew that uhhh is this the yellow one?" I asked myself picking up another grey one, 

"Thats the blue one" He said,

"I can't tell which ones which!!" I freaked finally losing it, I threw the satchel at him and he caught it without any effort,

"I CAN'T SEE THE COLORS!! ANY COLORS!! WHAT'S GOING ON!!??? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!!!?? what's wrong with me....what's wrong with me" I slowed my ranting whispering more to me then to Ink rocking back and forth on the couch, he continued to look at me and then back at the satchel and then back at me.

"I can't see the colors, I'm colorblind!! I don't know why or how but I am, I'm worthless now......I've always been worthless this just makes it even more so.....I guess it's for the best then huh?? I'm not worth your time and I won't be able to see the beautiful colors of the sunsets and....." I kept muttering to myself. 

I felt a pull and looked up to see Ink using his magic to take out my soul, his emotionless eyes widened as he looked at the soul: It was fully grey, the grey was darkening and becoming black again, pooling out of it was the last of my soul's color, I watched the grey color drip down and vanish like magic,he put back my soul before looking at me and trying to frown.

“Don't try, you can't feel any sympathy for me" I muttered looking down. 

I racked my brain for anything I can say or do that could at least try to help him:

Maybe I can do what those cheesy Disney movies do and give him a kiss? HAHAH!!! That wouldn't do anything!! Well.....maybe it could work......It would be our first kiss since we've been dating though....what if I ruin it???

I looked over at Ink and crept forward as he looked down at the satchel in his gloved hands ignoring me,

Bad idea!! Maybe I shouldn't.......

I kept creeping over until I was right next to him: 

No turning back now I guess......let's hope this dumb plan works it's all I got.

I hesitated once more before grabbing his face and he looked up at me, I pressed my lips to his boney ones, he did nothing just sat there looking up at me as I closed my eyes and tried to send all my emotions and problems and desperation to get him to understand into the kiss but I felt nothing coming from him: There was nothing.

I broke away and sighed sadly getting up and sitting on the other side of the couch far away from him:

Nope! Did not work, man I'm gonna have to tell Disney that happy true love's first kiss don't work darn....does that mean he does not love me? That I'm not the one for him??? I must of ruined it like I ruined everything.......

I looked down feeling a few tears come out of my eyes, I felt his bony finger wipe them from my cheeks and I looked up at him.

"Why are you crying" 

"It's fine, it's nothing don't worry about me I'm trying to help you out, I will handle my problems later, alone, I will just hold it in like I have been doing the past few weeks"

He was gonna say something but I quickly wiped my tears, hearing my soul crack again from holding in my emotions before getting up quickly.

"I'm gonna go find Dream and Blue so I can tell both of them I can't see colors anymore and then see if I can get help to see colors again or if it's permanent or something” I started walking past Ink and to the door, I felt him grab my arm and pull me backwards and I fell on my back on the couch making a squeaking noise of surprise. 

I looked up at Ink who was on top of me his hands were on either side of my head pinning me there, he was looking down at me with an emotionless look.

"Uhhh.......hi?" I said chuckling a little trying to make it less awkward, he kept looking down at me and I blushed looking around, 

"Uhhhhh, it's very uhh.....grey in here hahah......” I tried to think of something else to say but he kept staring, I got scared. 

"I'm sorry about kissing you!! Don't be angry I thought it would work you know, cause it worked in Disney but I was wrong please don't be angry I-” I stopped ranting feeling his boney finger wipe my cheeks and I realized I was crying again. 

"Why are you sad”

"I can't help you with the viles, you can't feel emotions, I just lost the last bit of colors in my soul and now I can't see anything but grey and black and white and I kissed you cause I thought you actually liked me too, you know cause we've been dating for a while but I ruined it and.....I found out you don't actually love me and we aren't soul mates" I whispered the last part,

I kept my head down looking at his white shirt,he kept wiping the tears as I struggled to stop my damn crying. 

"Man am I so emotional” I mumbled to myself half joking, Ink stopped wiping my tears and looked at me as I continued.

"I mean seriously I got so much emotional garbage yet none of my freaking emotions can help you, I knew it would not work, I knew you did not love me and I'm so stupid at thinking you did, that you asked me out cause you actually felt anything for me....You can't feel you can't actually 'love' me. I was right! I can't save anyone if I can't save myself" More tears flew down my cheek and I wiped them furiously trying not to brush my hands on his chest which was dangerously close to me. 

"Damn it stop crying!! You emotional baby!!" I hollered to myself trying to hold it in. 

Ink suddenly lifted me up so I was sitting in his lap resting on my knees, his arms were around me in a sorta emotionless hug as he patted my back.

I suddenly lost it and started bawling and gripping his shirt letting it all out, the emotional garbage of anger, regret, sadness, grief, heartbroken and loneliness from having to hold it all in all the time pooled out of my tears as I cried. Ink just sat there letting me cry it all out not trying to comfort me.

 I kept crying for a few more minutes until I pushed Ink away backing out of his lap and onto the couch cushion, he let go his arms going back to his sides, I wiped my eyes which were probably red from crying but I won't be able to see it. I chuckled darkly looking away. 

"What's wrong"

"I just remembered I can't see colors so I won't be able to see my red eyes from all that crying" I chuckled again sounding as empty as him.

He kept looking at me not even cracking a smile at my joke and I sighed feeling a little better. 

"Thanks for letting me cry on you, you can't feel anything and you weren't able to actually help but I'm happy you let me”

"It's better than holding it in until your alone, that's not a healthy thing to do and that's probably why your soul is damaged that much" Ink said 

"I'm used to being alone, I have been holding it in for a while after you stopped hanging out with me, Blue and Dream and you would leave and then I'd cry it out by myself" I muttered darkly, I looked up only to flinch as Ink was really close for comfort, again. 

"Uhhh....." I said backing up until my back hit the armrest of the couch. 

"Why have you not told us or asked for help," He asked crawling closer, I looked down at his satchel that fell on the floor.

"Sorry” I mumbled looking down sadly, I couldn't think of anything else to say. 

"You wanna know why I stopped taking them?" He asked, I looked up to his voice but flinched at how close he got while I was not focused, he now had me pinned to the armrest of the couch his arms once again locking me in from moving straddling me in between his legs.

"Why?” I asked confused, Why is he so close? 

He reached out to touch my cheek, I flinched thinking he was gonna hit me but he started stroking my cheek before leaning in to whisper in my ear. 

"-I wanted to see if this would work" 

"If what worked?" I asked confused. 

"......This" He said and slammed his boney lips against mine rather roughly, the minute that happened though I gasped as the color suddenly appeared back in my eyesight and I could see everything in color again, he continued to kiss me wrapping his arms around me as I did the same still a little confused, I noticed a rainbow swirl around us locking us in place and keeping us from moving away from each other.

He continued to kiss me getting rougher and more aggressive but I really did not care as I closed my eyes and relaxed kissing him back, his boney lips parted and I felt his rainbow tongue exploring inside my mouth, I just kissed him back confused out of my mind. 

After a good few long minutes or was it hours, of us basically making out he pulled away panting and I opened my eyes feeling breathless noticing his boney lips were cracked and bruised from all that but my lips were aching which meant mine were probably in the same condition, he looked down at me with half lidded emotionless eyes before he yelled out and fell off the couch clutching his chest and groaning in pain.

"INK! ARE YOU OKAY!?" I yelled getting up and trying to grab him but he started laughing, yelling in victory. I froze confused. 

"IT WORKED!! YES!!!" He leapt up off the ground and grabbed me giving me a really tight hug and I hugged back confused.

"What worked?? What happened?" I asked bewildered as he put me back down and smiled I noticed his eyes changing colors and shapes again. 

"Did you drink the paint when you fell?” I asked confused tilting my head. He laughed and hugged me again.

"No silly! I was hoping if I expressed my real feelings to you without the viles the strange things that pained my chest and the emotions I was getting from being around you would work and I would have this!!" He used a grabbing motion against himself and a rainbow upside down soul appeared, I looked at it in wonder.

"It's so pretty" I said speechless staring at it in wonder watching the colors swirl around and he laughed putting it back. 

"I can feel without paints now!! All thanks to you!” I looked up at him feeling happy for him but looked down confused and a little sad.

"What's wrong?" He asked sitting next to me on the couch.

"Was that all you wanted from me? Was to get a soul? And now you have one your gonna leave me like everyone else does when they get what they want from me?" 

He chuckled making a grabbing motion at me and my soul came out the cracks and damaged were gone and my soul trait had returned showing that I too got......better? 

He put it back smiling at his discovery and started giving me another hug but I flinched away making him frown, 

"What were we talking about?” He asked looking around confused, he perked up probably remembering what I said and what we were talking about and started waving his hands in front of him.

"No! I would never do that! I wanted to discover these new feelings I had without my paints but I lost emotions and I almost forgot what I was trying to do and.....what was I saying??" He stuck out his tongue and looked at his scarf scratching his skull.

"You mentioned Disney earlier right??" I knew he was confused and forgetting what he said but I just looked at him feeling hurt that he only used me for getting his soul, it was kinda selfish of him but I felt selfish as well.....He got a soul he looks so happy, why can't I be happy for him? 

"You kissing me snapped me out of my emotionless state a little bit and managed to allow me to do what I was gonna do before I became an empty shell......" He was still talking but I wasn't listening still in my own thoughts and looking down at where his satchel lay. He lifted my chin up so I could meet his gaze, his eyes full of concern and understanding.

"Dream and Blue were in on this, that's why I left all the time and ignored you, it pained me harshly but I had to do it, I made Dream bring you here and leave us alone for a few hours so I could finally understand how much you mean to me, you gave me back something I thought was lost forever, my soul and I love you for that"

I flinched at the L word staring into his gaze as he smiled kindly,

"You are my soulmate Stitches why would I leave after I got my soul back from the very person I want to be with forever? I have not done all this just to use you and then leave believe me I would never use you and toss you away I refuse to do that, I love you and I will do everything I can to protect you and keep your soul from breaking again like I've promised many times before.......if you will help me with my new soul and how to understand my new emotions, right now the only emotion I feel is love for you Ma Fleur and it's gonna be overwhelming for me once I start feeling the rest, so will you help me with the overwhelming emotions to soon come?”

I nodded speechless but he got the message and knew my answer, he smiled giving me another hug, this one a little bit lighter than the others but I tightened it making him laugh a little and tighten the hug as well.

"I forget that you have not had physical contact in a while that's my fault" He muttered into my hair chuckling as I huffed an agreement not letting go. 

"We should go see where Dream and Blue went and tell them what happened" He said half caring about the idea. 

"m not letting go" I muttered into his chest and he chuckled, 

"Alright then I will just carry you there” I yelpt a little as he picked me up me still clinging onto him like a Koala and started walking out the door.

"And to think this was our first kiss since we've been dating huh Ma Fleur? I'm gonna let your Disney attempted one slide and say mine was the first one, your's never happened"

I giggled a little too emotionally tired to respond, he laughed at my reaction holding me tight both our souls glowing and beating at the same time.

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

done.......  @selfshipperapproved  here is the last one

[staticsandstationery]

Okay, so you want to start a bullet journal? But you don’t have the right notebook or the right pens or the right washi tape or the right ruler or the right vibe?

SO WHAT??

Don’t let a fear of your bullet journal not being able to compete with the bullet journals you see on Instagram keep you from jumping in. The trick to being successful by using your bullet journal is to just get started!

So I’m going to walk you through how I set up my bullet journal in about 45 minutes. There are plenty of ways to get a brand new bullet journal set up in anywhere from 10 minutes (trust me, it can be done to an extent) to upwards of a handful of hours. 

It all just depends on how much work you want to do up front and how much of a project you want your bullet journal to be each week and each month when it’s time for a new spread.

I, for one, used to fall into the category of people who spend way too damn long on setting up a bullet journal. When I first got started, I used about 12 different pen colors, I used to paint the covers of a new journal, and I used to try to do all these random things to decorate the pages (if you don’t believe me, just watch this pen pile grow).

This time, I wanted to take a different approach. I’ve been using either a Passion Planner or an Erin Condren Life Planner for close to two years now, but neither has every feature I need. Also, long story short, I wasn’t using my planner effectively anymore. Grad school is a little less...intense I guess? My to-do lists are shorter and my days aren’t as packed, but things carry more weight. Does that make sense? So my planner has a lot of wasted space at this point in my life, and last semester I didn’t use a planner at all because all I had was my team design project. I fought with myself for almost this entire semester about what to do to be a better student, keep myself more organized, and keep myself on top of my assignments and deadlines. 

The answer? Get back into bullet journaling.

I set my bullet journal up in about 45 minutes this morning before I sat down to study for my upcoming statistics exam, so let’s walk through how I did that.

1. Gather Supplies

First, I got together my existing Erin Condren Life Planner (which, let’s be honest, I will always love), an empty notebook I had lying around (I am the type of person that people gift notebooks to and I’m definitely not complaining), some highlighters (I only ended up using the gray one), and some black pens. I happen to have Faber Castell pens laying around because I like to sketch and they don’t bleed when I go over them with watercolors, but seriously, any black pen is totally fine. I promise.

2. Make your Index

Fortunately, the Leuchtturm1917 notebook I have comes with an index in the front already. However, if your notebook does not have one, you’ll want to go ahead and add that at the very beginning of your notebook.

I’m going to be honest, I don’t love that it’s called an index in the bullet journal community because to me it’s a table of contents if it’s a the front, but whatever.

3. Create a Future Log

Skipping the index and one blank page, I dove right in. I will say, I had a bit of a plan going in. I knew I wanted to have 6 columns, one for each month, so I spaced those out using a mechanical pencil. Using a brush pen I had laying around (you can also use a crayola marker or a plain pen/marker if you’re not feeling script fonts), I wrote out the first 6 months and gave my page a title.

I then did the exact same thing for the next 6 months.

Next up, I went over those pencil lines with a black pen. Pencil can be skipped, or going over with a black pen can be skipped - it depends on how confident you are in your spacing and what you want your bullet journal to look like (in the end, that’s what your bullet journal is all about, right?). Once I had my six columns, I went in and put mini calendars in for the first 6 months. I’ll go back and do May - October later.

Once I had my columns, I went in and started added some dates to my future log. If you’re on a time crunch and just want your bullet journal started so you can add in your first list, then by all means, power on through and skip this part!

4. Make your Monthly Spread

Okay, so this is 100% where my pencil and my eraser saw the most action. I had no idea what I wanted my spread to look like, just that I wanted a teeny calendar and a place for goals.

I started by sketching out some boxes, writing in what I wanted those boxes to be, debating whether I actually wanted any of those boxes, etc.

Eventually, I decided it’s what I wanted and I went over everything with some black pens.

I included a section for monthly goals, some important dates, and an overview of budget benchmarks. 

5. Add a Habit Tracker

100% optional, but I decided that on the page facing my monthly spread would be the perfect place to track some of the habits I want to get better about staying on top of. Since it’s a tracker for the month, it made sense to keep it with the whole month.

This is without a doubt the part that took the longest when I was setting up my bullet journal this morning. Not only did I have to figure out what exactly I wanted to track, but I also had to go through and ink in all the lines because once I started, I was committed.

Don’t get me wrong, I think it turned out great and I’m really excited to use it, but I wish I had left it until a few days from now, just because it did take almost 20 minutes for this one page (ridiculous, right?).

6. Make Your Weekly Spread

I decided to keep my weekly spread relatively simple, especially compared to what my bullet journal used to look like, and stuck to just black pen and gray highlighter.

I kept things as simple as possible. I’m hoping that with a simpler layout, I can maybe get a new weekly spread going in under 5 minutes as my weeks progress.

Along the lefthand side, I have my work and class schedule. Then the rest of the two page spread is dedicated to to-do lists. Can you spot the mistake I made on Monday? Who cares?? Make mistakes in your bullet journal!! This is JUST FOR YOU!

I may switch to more of a horizontal situation in the upcoming weeks, but for right now I’m on board with this one and we’ll see how it goes!

7. Finally, Make Sure You Have a Key

I forgot until the very end to set up my key, and honestly, it wasn’t the end of the world. I stuck it up on the page just before my index starts and called it a day.

I did my best to keep it simple. My keys in the past have had a habit of taking up an entire page. 

All in all, I’m really happy with the more minimalist direction this bullet journal is heading. I’m excited to only need to carry like two or three writing utensils to be able to use it, I’m excited to not stress about messing up, and I’m excited to be excited about school again.

I plan on adding a few more pages, like a cleaning schedule and a workout tracker or something similar, but that’ll come after I finished getting ready for my Stat exam!

What do your bullet journals look like? How long does it take you to set yours up?

[wroteasongabouther]

Grumpy, Part IV (FINALE) - A Harry Styles Imagine

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N

RATING: PG

WORD COUNT: 12.5k

A/N: omg did i actually finish a series??? wow.. thanks to everyone for the love and notes on this series, it’s been a blast and has improved my writing a bit too. be sure to check out my masterlist for more of my writing too!

“You should leave,” you say in a low voice.

“You’re fucking joking,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head while breaking the heartbreaking gaze between you two. Then he meets your eyes again, scowling. “Fine, this was fucking stupid to think would work anyways,” Harry almost hisses out the words to you.

Another punch to the heart. And then it breaks when he turns around, slamming your door behind him. The room is silent following his departure. You’re zoned out on the door, thinking maybe he’ll walk back in, but he doesn’t. With your heart beating hard in your chest, you wet your lips as a tear falls down your face. Slowly moving to your sofa, you hug the small pillow and let yourself cry. But after this, you had to get yourself back together and be the person Jeff knew you to be. The person he seemed to need - not the one that had gone behind his back and fallen in love with Harry.

or

The one when Y/N and Harry’s emotions are all over the place and they’re unsure how things will end.

(Find previous parts here and future blurbs too!)

⏤

Harry followed you the whole way back to your apartment. You know because anytime you glance back in the rear view mirror through the blur of your teary eyes, you’d see his Range Rover right behind you. The fact he’s willing to put up such a fight causes another sob to break from you. The heart ache you’re feeling hurts so damn much. But when you pull up to your apartment, Harry still right behind you, you wipe away your tears and continue to give Harry the silent treatment. 

“Yeh really not gonna let me in?” Harry questions in a bitter voice as you unlock your door, he’s a few steps behind you. You turn around and look at him finally, his face softens at the sight of your watery eyes. 

You hated everything about this. How you open your door wider for him to step inside. Then how you turn back around after he shuts the door and you take in how he looks. He’s wearing a white tshirt, it’s kinda see-through but you love the way the black ink looks under the material. His hair is just as messy as it was this morning, and it makes you want to run your hands through it and kiss his puffy lips. As you look to his lips, Harry licks them while he narrows his eyes at you. There was so much to talk about and Harry really had no idea where to start. 

“Are you really going to just listen to Jeff and end this?” 

“I don’t know-”

“No, Y/N, that’s just fuckin’ ridiculous!” He shouts at you, and as if something snaps inside of you, you’re shouting back at him.

“You don’t understand Harry! When Jeff mentioned how I should know better, he wasn’t just meaning it by my better judgement, he means that I’ve personally had to deal with this before,” 

“You’ve seen someone on my team?” Harry questions, jealousy clear in his voice. 

You roll your eyes at him, “God no, not me, you! I’ve had to fire people when you got too close to them before. Remember last year, that lovely brunette who was working with Lambert and you decided to fuck around with her for a couple weeks? Then she just disappeared? Because I had to call her into the office, I made sure there was no personal photos or videos or anything on her phone or computer and threatened that we would’ve sued her if anything got online, and then I fired her all because she was seeing you,”

“Well, that’s jealousy to a whole other level,” Harry jokes after a short pause. You only roll your eyes at him again. 

“Missed the whole fucking point didn’t you?” 

“Quit being such a bitch to me, this is just stupid and you know it,” Harry glares. “You’re not like that girl, hell I don’t even remember her bloody name! I fucking like you, a lot, and if Jeff wants to pull this card then I can pull one right back at him and fire him-”

“Harry, that’s enough,” you cut off his ranting and sigh. “That’s the stupidest thing you could do, we both know it,”

“Well what’s fucking stupid is that Jeff is trying to tell me who I can’t fucking date now,” Harry grumbles. 

You bite your chapped lips and stare down at the carpet. This was exactly what you were dreading to happen the moment you stared to get feelings for Harry back in Sweden. Hugging yourself, you continue to zone out while remembering each little thing back at Jeff’s office. You needed this job. This job was good, it was never about getting close to Harry ever. It was about learning all you needed to know of the music business and growing from your small position. You needed to get out of whatever daze Harry had you in and think for a second. Think about yourself and your future. A future that was currently in Jeff’s hands. 

“He’s right though,” you say into the silence that’s taken over the room. 

“Don’t-”

“No, Harry, this was unprofessional of me and I wasn’t thinking right. I made the wrong decision,” 

Harry snorts, scowling at you hard now, “you weren’t thinking right? Funny,” 

“Stop, this is hard enough for me-”

“It doesn’t have to be hard! Find another job and stay with me, it’s easy!” Harry yells again. 

You flinch at his words and bite the inside of your cheek while looking into his eyes. Maybe these past two weeks were all a mistake. Maybe you weren’t thinking straight because of... you didn’t want to say it, but you had gone through something so incredibly terrible and then had started seeing Harry. A small sigh escapes your lips. This is all just too much, so many thoughts running through you head while Harry stood across the room it seeming like pure anger was running through his veins. 

“You should leave,” you say in a low voice. 

“You’re fucking joking,” Harry scoffs, shaking his head while breaking the heartbreaking gaze between you two. Then he meets your eyes again, scowling. “Fine, this was fucking stupid to think would work anyways,” Harry almost hisses out the words to you. 

Another punch to the heart. And then it breaks when he turns around, slamming your door behind him. The room is silent following his departure. You’re zoned out on the door, thinking maybe he’ll walk back in, but he doesn’t. With your heart beating hard in your chest, you wet your lips as a tear falls down your face. Slowly moving to your sofa, you hug the small pillow and let yourself cry. But after this, you had to get yourself back together and be the person Jeff knew you to be. The person he seemed to need - not the one that had gone behind his back and fallen in love with Harry. 

⏤

You wake up only an hour later to your phone ringing by your head, completely unaware of when you had fallen asleep. Groggily, you sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes to see who’s calling. It shouldn’t surprise you that it’s Jeff, probably wondering how everything had gone down with you and Harry after you had left his office. Your heart breaks a little while you replay this afternoon in your head. 

“Hey,” you sigh into the phone. 

“Hi,” Jeff says quietly on the other line. You don’t respond, because truthfully this was all his doing anyways. “How did he take it?” 

“Not well,” you answer bitterly. Jeff didn’t even care. He didn’t realize how much you two liked each other, how much this hurt the both of you. Jeff clears his throat and you hear some ruffling around in the background. 

“Look, Y/N, I don’t know what was happening there but I was thinking about you, okay?” Jeff says, “if media was to get ahold of those photos or if you two were to actually be together or whatever, it wouldn’t have looked good for your career. The media would paint you out to be a whore and no one would take you seriously in this industry,” 

“I, uh, I understand,” you say quietly. 

“Alright, um, so as long as things go back to the way they were before whatever happened between you two, then you’ll still have your job,” Jeff exclaims. 

Your stomach turns at his words, a threat from your boss wasn’t always the nicest. “Got it,” you mumble. 

“Good,” Jeff sighs, “so flights at 10 in the morning tomorrow, I was going to get you to pick up Harry but don’t worry about it. A day or two apart might be for the best,” he says. 

“Okay, flight details in a recent email?” 

“Yes, I’m sending it out after this call,” 

“Sounds good,” 

“Alright, uh, have a good night,” 

“You too,” you mumble before hanging up the phone and staring down at your screen afterwards. Maybe only a minute or two passes before there’s a notification on your phone that’s an email from Jeff. You unlock your phone and open it up, deciding to figure your flight out now rather than later. Speaking of, you should really start repacking your suitcase soon too. And maybe order in some food, you wanted a chocolate milkshake and a cheeseburger and napkins to wipe your tears away later too. 

You furrow your brows as you look through the flight information. There had to be a mistake, but there isn’t. It has your name on the top. The destination is for Perth, Australia. But you wouldn’t be sitting with Jeff or Harry, no you’d be by yourself in economy. By no means was this you being upset over the fact you’d be downgraded from first class, it was you being upset over the fact Jeff really wasn’t taking this whole situation lightly. 

After another quiet moment at staring at your phone, you decide to get up and start packing. A task would get your mind off everything. Then a shower, to stand there and think about how you were going to continue on the tour. Would you step back a bit? Would you avoid Harry and pretend nothing even happened over the past couple weeks? You sigh and wash out your soapy hair while your mind runs wild. Soon enough your in clean clothes, have everything of yours ready to go for tomorrow, and get into bed. 

⏤

You woke up late. And with being in such a rush, you forgot to get something to eat. Simply getting a cup of water and a snack on the flight to London. Then from London you’re getting on the jet. If it wasn’t for Clare, Adam and Helene, you’d probably be doubling up on Gravel in order to ignore the fact Harry sat so close by. As Helene talks about her time home, you find yourself staring where he sat. 

His shoulders hunched forwards as he blatantly ignores whatever Jeff, who’s sitting in front of him, has to say. Just then you see the flight attendant bring him a dark brown liquid with a cup half full of ice. Of course he’s drinking already. You find yourself swallowing a lump in your throat.

As the young woman walks away, Harry’s eyes follow after her. You can’t help it as your eyes stay trained on the scene before you. The way he turns his body just slightly in order to check her out. But then his eyes trail up and find yours. It only makes the feeling in the pit of your stomach worse - and then his eyebrows crease together and his eyes narrow, giving you a scowl before he turns back around to face Jeff. Truthfully, it feels like you could get up and go hunch over the toilet for a minute but then it passes. You had to get over this, you had to be better than this and to act professional and not let your feelings get in the way. It’s something you’d be reminding yourself of day to day from now on.

“Did you have a good break? Visit your mom I’m guessing?” Helene asks, catching your gaze, taking your mind away from the mess Harry made it. By the look on her face you guess your facial expression isn’t what she expects. 

“Yeah, uh, had lunch a few times together, she’s a busy woman,” you lie. Suppose one lunch with your mom wasn’t what everyone expected. And they sure as hell wouldn’t expect for you to spend the break in bed with Harry. 

“Is she doing alright?” 

“Yup, just as strong as I guessed she’d be,” you nod, taking a sip of water. 

“I can’t believe we’re going to Australia right now,” Clare pips up. 

You smile, “and soon we’ll be in Japan,” you mention. 

“Then it’ll be my turn to give Harry and the others some lessons,” she says. You nod your head, remembering the times last month that you had given Harry lessons in the languages you knew. How things are changed so much since then was really baffling to you honestly. But here you were, thinking about taking some gravel in order to survive the next 16 hours. There was no way you could do it, not even from just being so uncomfortable when flying but you’ve already checked on Harry four times since taking a seat - you needed to pass out and not think about him for a while. 

“I think I’m going to take some gravel and sleep,” you tell the girls sitting around you. They all nod while you dig through your bag and find what you’re looking for. 

The plane had grown quiet, the lights down low as the sun had set now. You ask for a glass of water from the flight attendant, hoping she hurries as you notice Jeff rolling his eyes at the other end of the plane. Then everyone can hear Harry’s harsh words. His voice sounding so angry, so annoyed, so bloody Grumpy. 

“Shut the hell up, let me fucking live,” he growls at Jeff. 

Clare and Helene share a look, then their eyes both fall back to you as you play with the few pills in your hand. You’re not sure what to do or what to say, so you just shrug your shoulders as your lips roll back into your mouth and you avoid their eyes. Thankfully the flight attendant comes back and you can’t swallow those pills fast enough. 

⏤

Harry’s been in a piss poor mood for days now. He can’t seem to help it, no matter who he talked to. Hell, he even snapped at Anne earlier this morning before he went downstairs in the hotel to work out. That flight from London to Perth was by far the longest of his life. It was like it was never going to end. He didn’t care when he snapped at Jeff so many times he couldn’t count them on his hands, and he didn’t care when he glared at Adam or at Mitch or even at Helene. He wanted out of the tin can in the air that he knew you were asleep in. 

He remembers getting up to use the washroom, after nearly an hour of holding it cause it didn’t want to even look at you. But then when he got up and saw you hunched up in your seat, a jumper thrown over you by one of the girls he assumed, he didn’t feel the rage like he thought he would. No, he felt his heart skip a damn beat as he took in your soft features. 

Harry had swallowed whatever lump had formed in his throat and looked away from your sleeping body to head to the washroom. In the small space by himself, he found himself standing there for a bit too long after he had done his business. All he could think about was how only days ago you were falling asleep in his arms. Then Jeff opens his big mouth and he ruined it all. Harry remembers everything you had said in your apartment afterwards. How each word hurt him so much he wanted to drink it all away. So he did. Then he next morning when Jeff had to unlock his front door and poor a glass of cold water on his face - well it’s been bad blood between them ever since. And everyone else too. 

Harry knew he should call back his mom and apologize for his shit behaviour. But he also knew his mom had probably caught on to whatever, cause she was that kind of mom, and he didn’t want to explain the heartbreak her son had gone through. So instead Harry pushed himself so hard at the gym he knew he’d be feeling it even later tonight during the show here in Perth.

But nothing hurt more than seeing your face. He knew you were avoiding him the best you could. He’s even sure that Jeff has taken away some responsibilities from you too - which was ridiculous, seeing as you had broken it off to work for him instead. Harry tries to keep his head down as he passes you and Helene, he’s sure you two had just woken up and had planned to get breakfast and coffee. But Helene has a better idea. 

“Hey, Harry,” she says with a smile. 

“Hey,” he grunts, looking up to meet her eyes. That’s when he turns to you and meets your eyes so close since you had ripped his heart to shreds. He notices how you swallow hard and blink fast a few times before inhaling deeply and looking away from his hard stare. Maybe he was scowling again, and maybe he didn’t care. You had to know how much you had hurt him. 

“Did you want to come for breakfast?” Helene asks. She must be surprised to see Harry awake so early. 

“Too sweaty, I’m just going to order somethin’ to my room and meet you guys later,” he explains.

“Okay,” Helene nods. Then one last time he tries to find your eyes, but you’re looking at your phone. He shakes his head a bit before jogging away from you and Helene and smacking his hand against the elevator button.  

All you can think about during breakfast with Helene is how hot Harry looked. How badly you wanted his glistening skin to hold you against the back of his hotel room as his lips are glued to yours. Moving down to your neck, your chest, your... You catch yourself daydreaming about Harry before Helene can snap you out of it. She’s yapping on about some new lens she got during the break that she can’t wait to use tonight. You just sit there and smile while bringing your coffee to your lips. You were going to need another cup to last through this first day back on tour.

You had three cups of coffee and had the caffeine jitters to prove so. Jeff was on Harry duty, thank god, which put you in charge of meeting the new opening act. Suppose it wasn’t horrible to meet them while all hyped up on coffee instead of down in the dumps while daydreaming about Harry again.

“Hi, my name’s Y/N, we were emailing a couple days ago,” you say with a smile as you shake hands with the new opening act for this leg of the tour.

“Isabella, and this is the guys,” she goes off to introduce the rest of the band before moving onto their crew as well. Everyone’s so sweet, you’re smiling and laughing at their banter and you and Isabella are throwing compliments at each other every two minutes you swear. Can’t help you wore your Gucci loafers and best pair of cropped blue jeans too.

Just as you think the day’s going to be a good one, you hear something crash from the room beside the one you’re in. Everyone furrows their brows at the sound which is followed by some shouting too. You let out a short sigh through your nose and shut your eyes.

“Isn’t Harry’s dressing room beside ours?” Isabella questions.

“Um, yeah,” you pause while trying to think up what to tell these poor people who aren’t used to Harry’s tantrums - even though the past couple days have been worse than ever before. “He’s just having a really bad day,” you lie. Well, maybe it’s not entirely a lie.

“Aww,” Isabella pouts.

You can see it in her eyes as you glance her way. She feels bad for Harry, she feels pity for the mega rockstar and probably wants to make him feel better. The mere thought of her walking into Harry’s dressing room and flirting her way to his bed makes your stomach feel ill. You uncross your legs now and stand from the chair you were relaxed in for the past while.

“I should probably get back to work, I’ll see you guys around,” you say with a tight smile before turning on your heels and walking out of the dressing room. Just as you start down the hallway, the door to Harry’s dressing room opens quickly. Your heart stops at the thought of running into Harry right now in whatever state it is that’s got him so upset.

Thankfully you meet the wide eyes of Jeff, “hey,” he says as you meet his gaze.

“How’s it going?” you ask, meaning in general but Jeff knows you want the details on whats going on with Harry.

He sighs and falls in step with you towards the backstage area again. The crew is working hard in the early hours of the afternoon, getting the stage all safe and sound before dress rehearsal started up. With a smaller venue some things were a bit different, plus there was the new opening act, so a full rehearsal was on todays schedule of course. Meaning you’d have to face Grumpy eventually.

“He’s just pissed, as he has been all day,” he explains with a shrug. You fight back your frown, knowing this was all your fault in the end. “I’ll uh need you to watch over rehearsals today, take charge and give everyone notes please, I have some meetings to do,”

“Gucci?” you question, trying to switch the topic instead of frowning again from the news of you literally being around Harry this afternoon all afternoon.

“Yes,” Jeff smiles, “it’s all going down soon,”

“That’s awesome,” you nod.

“And uh, as for Harry,” Jeff doesn’t finish his sentence but his eyes and facial expression speaks for him. You swallow the lump in your throat and nod at Jeff while licking your lips. All nervous ticks.

“Everything’s fine Jeff, nothing’s going on, I’m just here to work,” you exclaim, saying the few short statements that you’ve practiced in your head.

“Okay, good,” he nods, “just uh, don’t snap at him of he snaps at you,”

“I’ve got this Jeff, been dealing with it for years,”

“And you’re the best at it,” he states with a nod.

“Yup,” you sigh and give him a tight smile as you both walk through the floor seats to watch the crew finishing the set up before rehearsals were to start up. Soon enough the opening bands manager sits down beside you and the three of you chat before Jeff has to run off.

Everything goes well during the opening acts rehearsal, they’re really not that terrible of a band to be honest. You do give their manager a few notes, knowing the look the younger guy was going to give you before you even open your mouth. Can’t help that you’ve had more experience with the world’s biggest boyband for the past five years almost before jumping onto Harry’s team as well. Therefore you knew a thing or two more about stage presence and such for a newer band like the one he’s managing. 

“Hi Y/N,” Clare says into her mic as the band gets onto the stage. You’re standing just at the bottom on the stairs now, alone since the opening act and their manager had left you to go through Harry’s set. 

“Hi,” you smile.

“Are you the big boss today?” Adam asks, fixing the strap of his bass. 

“Sure am,” you nod. Then you glance around and don’t notice Harry anywhere to be seen. “Where’s Harry?” you question, getting ready to pull your phone from your back pocket in order to text him or maybe even Jeff if he wasn’t too busy. 

The band’s all quiet. They once acted like this before, back in Harry’s worst days last year. He would be snappy and scowl at them all when they made the slightest mistake. You weren’t entirely sure what his problem was back then, maybe it was because of how busy he was, but regardless is freaking sucked to deal with. You did know his problem this time around though. It was because of you. 

“Alright, well let’s just get started then,” you say while shaking your head and walking up the stairs. “Mitch, since it’s a bit smaller we have you set up on this side of Clare a bit more centre stage,” 

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he says, causing you and everyone else to chuckle. 

Just as you’re checking up on the rest of the band and how they are feeling, Harry decides to grace you all with his presence. It’s so obvious, to literally anyone with two eyes, that he’s wasted. He drags his feet across the stage, hand gripping a red solo cup while his eyes are narrowed into slits. Not to mention how strong he smells of rum, you want to pout and apologize to him for making him feel like he needs to be all moody and drunk because of what happened in LA. But instead you take a deep breath and approach him. 

“You really think this is an appropriate time to get drunk?” you question him. 

“’Course it is,” he mutters, “but want tah know what isn’t appropriate. Oh wait, forgot it’s our little secret,” 

“Harry,” you hiss out his name, thankful he’s closer to the front of the stage - maybe none of the band heard him. “Just shut up and rehearse these couple songs, please,” you order him before walking off the stage and over to the sound crew by the ‘b-stage’. 

He’s scowling the entire time. While the rest of the band seems bothered, and for you it just sucks to see overall. Harry’s in such a bad mood, even worse than at the beginning of this tour before everything between you two happened, and it’s rubbing the band the wrong way. Harry barks at Adam for messing up. Mitch returns Harry’s glaring, sipping his own wine already too, while Sarah and Clare sit quietly. 

“Alright, can we just do a mic check in the inner ears and then you guys are free to go,” you say loudly so your voice carries across the arena. 

Each one of them say ‘check’ into their microphones a few times, you take note of how to fix them till everyone’s happy and then you dismiss them all. After a moment of talking with some crew members, you head backstage yourself to go to catering in order to finally eat something since breakfast early this morning. Hell, you might even need another coffee if Jeff was going to up your work load like this again. Just as you’re walking into catering you hear him shouting in that same harsh voice again. 

“I don’t really care what your boss said, I’m your bloody bosses boss so I suggest you fucking listen to what I’m saying to you and-” 

“Alright, enough,” you bark through clenched teeth while stepping up to where Harry - still with a red solo cup of dark liquid in his hand - stood fuming at a poor lady who’s working for the catering company. 

“Oh fuck off,” Harry mutters and rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you say to the worker, giving her a soft look before turning back to Harry and matching his scowl. There’s no doubt that you’ve embarrassed him. Thankfully he doesn’t put up anymore of a fight and walks out of the room entirely. You so badly want to stay and let him rain his terror somewhere else, but you decide to do your job and follow after him. 

At first he must not realize you’re really following him. But then as you take a few long strides to get in front of him, holding open the dressing room door for him to walk into, he obviously realizes you’re not going away. Doesn’t matter what he mutters under his breath or how hard his glares at you. You were stepping up like Jeff needed you to and were going to set him straight before the show was to get started tonight. 

“Get in the shower,” you order. 

“No,” Harry argues back. 

“Harry, seriously, stop it,” 

“Why should I?” 

“Because you’re acting so unprofessional right now,” you state, crossing your arms at your chest as you watch him take a seat on the sofa. 

“Oh, you’d know everything about that now wouldn’t you,” Harry strikes back after taking a long sip of his drink. 

You don’t have a response. He’s got you speechless honestly. So after another moment of staring into his eyes, you shake your head and run a hand through your hair. This wasn’t going to be easy. You should have known by what he had said in your apartment those few days ago after Jeff found out. Harry was angry at you and was lashing out, but really what else would you expect of him. 

“Look, Harry, I’m sorry but you need to quit acting like this complete asshole and work. Cause it doesn’t matter what happened, we’re on this tour to work,” you exclaim, unsure of how to word what you’re feeling exactly. Suppose that would have to do for now. 

Harry rubs him bottom lip between his fingers, watching as you drop your arms at both sides and looking defeated. “At least you got a few good heartbreak songs out of me,” he grumbles, his voice still angry and hurt. 

“Harry-” you try, but he holds up a hand and gets up from the sofa, heading away to where the showers were. 

As you hear the showers start up you find yourself zoned out on the carpet beneath your feet. You had broke his heart. It was the worst thing to think of, but it was the truth. You knew it. He knew it. Hell, you’re sure Jeff might’ve put two and two together by now. Taking a deep breath, you move around to get a towel and such ready for when Harry finished up. Then you find yourself sitting on the couch hovering over your parents house phone number. Maybe talking to your mom would help distract you. You ponder it for a second and realize you didn’t just want to hear your mom’s voice, you wanted to hear your dads. You wanted it to be him that told you everything was going to work out and be fine. But you’d never hear that again. 

The sounds of the water hitting the ground echoes through the room while you sit there with tears streaming down your face. It’s been a while since you’ve broken down about your dad. Suppose now’s as good a time as ever. You sniffle and bring a hand up to wipe your tears carefully - not wanting black makeup to smudge down your face. All of a sudden the door opens up and Jeff walks in, his eyes finding your own glossy ones and he gives you a somber look. 

“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, walking over to sit beside you. 

“Uh, yeah, I’ll be fine,” you mumble and sniffle some more. “Harry’s just drunk, he snapped I didn’t I promise,” 

“You got him in the shower to sober up I’m guessing?” Jeff asks and you nod your head. “Did he say something to make your cry, Y/N?” 

You shake your head this time and look up in order to keep the tears at bay. “It wasn’t really him. I just,” you pause and let out a deep breath, “I just miss my dad, a lot,” you say and let out a shaky breath afterwards. 

Harry figures that you must’ve not realize he was out of the shower. He stood with the towel around his torso, his head beginning to hurt now as the cold shower helped sober him up, hiding out of the dressing room still as you and Jeff talked. When you mention your dad, Harry’s chest aches. He wants to be the one hugging you while you mentioned missing your dad, not Jeff. Fuck Jeff - he’s the whole reason Harry’s feeling this way. Making you feel as though your career is over if you were to stay with Harry, it’s right messed up. Just as Harry thinks about walking out there and saying sorry, he hears something he probably shouldn’t have. 

“You’re sure you’re not like, upset about being here with Harry after everything?” Jeff asks you, being the proper ass he is. 

“Yes, I’m sure. It was stupid and unprofessional. I never really liked him I don’t think, just got a bit caught up in things,” you say. You know you’re lying to Jeff, to tell him what he wants to hear in order to quit asking you about it. But Harry doesn’t know and it has him fuming. 

“You mind meeting with the opening act before the show, giving them a wave off,” Jeff asks of you. And then with that you’re walking out of the dressing room and leaving Harry behind to scowl and curse at Jeff as his feelings have been hurt all over again.

⏤

“Harry wake up!” You shout through the hotel room door. 

The room key in your hands shakes, well it’s your hands that are shaking. You don’t want to use the card and open up the door and see Harry in bed with some random girl. It’s now been a week since the break up, and Harry hasn’t fixed his attitude even a little. Biting on your bottom lip, you pound on the door once more and rest your hip on the frame in hopes he’ll get up and answer this time. But after a pause, another angry text from Jeff, and no response from Harry - you slowly slide the card through till the light turns green.

One deep breath to try and prepare yourself, and you already feel ill from the sight of liquor bottles along the floor. Jeff’s going to love knowing his hotel bill was about to go up. You sigh and step around to get to where the bed was. God must be on your side, cause he’s laying there on his tummy alone. You stare, deep in thought, and watch as he sleeps there.

He could’ve still had someone over. They could have been one of the smart ones that left before Harry woke, knowing they weren’t anything more than an one night stand. Your stomach turns at the thought. Regardless of everything, did not mean you just suddenly didn’t have any feelings left for Harry. You always would, and maybe that would affect your days of work throughout the future but you hoped it didn’t most days.

“Harry,” you call out his name loudly.

You see his eyes squint before he’s rolling around. Of course the blanket doesn’t stay around his hips. The sight before you only further your thoughts of him having a guest over last night. You look away and shake your head.

“Harry get up! Now!” You shout, a shot of anger had filled your veins.

“Jesus fuck woman, quit yellin’” he grumbles. His voice is thick from his sleep, causing him to clear it before he moves around some more. “Don’t act all modest now, love, not like you haven’t seen my penis before,”

“Jesus Christ, Harry,” you mumble and start picking up the bottles that were around your feet. “Get in the shower or whatever, Jeff says we’re leaving in twenty,” you exclaim.

“What? You’re not gunna be nice and start my shower for me, what am I paying you for?”

You knew the jabs of you working for him weren’t going to stop anytime soon. Yet every time it felt like he physically jabs you. With another sigh and smack of bottles in the trash bin, you stand up straight and wipe your hands on your pants. Harry has sat up now at least, watching your every move it seems. You blink a few times, ignoring his nakedness and then decide to make your way to the bathroom.

If he wanted his shower started, then you’d do your job and start his shower for his stupid hangover, again… you let out a deep breath as the shower streams down into the bathtub. Pulling the shower curtain, you make sure his toiletries are set and then walk back out to see Harry hasn’t moved again and he’s still fond of staring this morning.

“Twenty minutes, downstairs,” you order before leaving his room and walking down the hallway quickly.

As you get to the elevator your realize you’re breathing heavily. Grabbing the railing inside, you focus on your breathing and try to calm yourself down. It hurt. It hurt a fucking lot. But this was how it was supposed to be, you just worked for him and maybe one day a few weeks from now everything would blow over and this would go back to normal. The elevator rings and the doors open at the lobby, Jeff immediately approaching you to make sure Mr Grumpy was up and getting ready.

Throughout these past few days you’ve been handling more business sort of things. Jeff was mostly on Harry duty, and that’s probably why he’s been drinking himself stupid each night and going out with or without anyone from the team. But you couldn’t step up. So instead you just focused on work and hid away from Harry as much as you possibly could. In fact, this morning was the first time you two had talked in two days. And what a shitty two days it had been. Suppose even the banter between you two hurt less than the silence and scowls from afar.

You wondered if this was all worth it. As Harry comes down to the lobby, ignoring you completely and bickering with Mitch over something that had happened last night, you think maybe coming back to work at entirely a huge mistake. Maybe you should just tell Jeff to help you with a job at the office till you figured something out. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Helene asks, moving so your unfocused eyes met hers. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you nod and brush her off. 

“You know, if there’s something you need to talk about I’m here,” she says. You give her a smile and a soft thanks before you’re walking off to the first car that would bring the lot of you to the arena. 

⏤

Harry’s having another shit day. But what else does he expect nowadays? The girl he likes dumped him, continued to work for him, and now ignores his existence. He walks into the dressing room at Brisbane with his head down and hands in his jumper pocket. Since he couldn’t sleep last night and had only ordered one bottle of wine to try and slow down, he had a shit sleep and woke up earlier than he wanted - which he supposed was better than being woken up by your shouting for a second morning in a row. And now here he was at the arena before pretty much everyone else and wasn’t entirely sure of his plan.

He’s sitting upon the sofa, the dressing room feeling plain since no one has been around to set anything up just yet. At first he looks around and thinks up where he could get his hands on some liquor. But then he remembers the text his mom had sent him last night, it had been the reason he only had some wine at his hotel room instead of the night out with rum he had planned. 

I’m not sure what’s got you all bothered and drunk lately, but I think you should slow it down a little okay? I love you.

Harry pulls at his bottom lip and zones out as his mind takes a trip into the darkness that’s you. He finds himself doing this a lot, thinking about you when he’s all alone. Harry first thinks about how this all started. How he fought back the smiles and the comments he felt towards you near years ago, and how he knew it wasn’t his best idea to get involved with you. He knew from day one that it would be messy. But then he got you. And just as fast, he lost you. 

Harry runs a hand through his hair and ends up pulling at the ends as anger bubbles inside of his chest. Never has he felt so strongly about someone. He cannot recall the last time he hung onto someone’s words and someone’s laughter like he did with yours. He loved being around you and spending time with you doing absolutely nothing even. And yes he understood the risk of dating someone from his team, but he didn’t think he’d care so bloody much. And now, to hear from your own mouth that you didn’t even like him through those days wrapped up in each others arms. Even thinking about it broke his heart all over again.

All of a sudden the door for the dressing room opens up, and you walk in. Your heads down, responding to a text from Anne actually, while you’ve got your favourite iced coffee in hand. Harry watches you, waiting for you to notice his presence. Finally, looking up from your phone, you meet his eyes and get a little startled. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, heart beating out of your chest. “What are you doing here already?” 

Harry shrugs, “woke up early,” he answers in a low voice. 

“Alright then,” you respond then go walking off and beginning to set up the dressing room as you have many times before. 

“Got a coffee for me?” Harry questions. He knows how rude he sounds, but he just can’t help it. You’ve hurt his feeling a few too many times now for him to find his nice voice.

“Nope,” you say, “didn’t realize you were going to be here.” Harry wets his lips and watches you unlock the wardrobe cases before setting up a few things on the vanity too. Harry misses the days when it’d just be you two, getting him ready for the show and picking out suits.

“Jeff isn’t feeling really good today,” you state while turning back to look at Harry, “so I’ll be dealing with you today, just try and be civil, please, and don’t go drinking a bunch we’re almost done this leg of the tour and you’ll have another break to waste away with booze,” you say, hints of annoyance laced with your words. 

“Wow, you’re really asking a lot of me,” Harry breathes, rolling his eyes at you.

“Just want today to go well,” 

“Don’t want to get caught up in things? Just want to work, huh?” Harry knows his questions are about to start a fight. And when your eyes narrow to slits, fire in them, he knows he had done just that. 

“Fine, you want to start this then let’s get it over with,” you snap. 

Harry’s leaning forward now, pushing himself to stand up as his chest heaves with anger. All the things you’ve said to him are clouding his brain as he takes a few steps towards you. How much easier things would be if Harry never felt this way about you, if this whole thing had never started and he hadn’t kissed you at Nick’s house, if he hadn’t stayed in LA over the break or held your hand on the way to the airport - he would have saved him a hell of a lot of heartbreak. 

“You hurt me, I don’t understand why you think I can just go back to the way things were before that,” Harry says, shaking his head at you. 

“And you think I’m fine! This isn’t always all about you, Harry,” 

“Why wouldn’t you be fine? You did this! It’s obvious now that I meant nothing to you,” 

“You meant everything to me!” you shout back, feeling your eyes begin to water as an overwhelming burst of feelings follow your statement.

Harry’s fuming now, “well that’s not what I’ve heard. You’ve told Jeff how what happened was a mistake and how it meant nothing so many times I’ve lost fucking count,” 

“I was lying to him so that way he’d leave me alone for one stupid day and I didn’t have to talk about my feelings about you,” you explain. 

The fact that Harry’s doubting how you felt about him hurts you a lot. Because you’ve never liked someone so much before, it’s never sucked so freaking much to put yourself first before. Harry doesn’t respond right away. Instead he stands there with his arms crossed as he stares you down. It feels like that fight in your apartment all over again. Both heart shattering and mind consuming. You take a deep breath and lean against the vanity. 

“If you liked me so much, and it hurts you as much as it hurts me, then why did you listen to Jeff and break it off?” Harry asks the burning question before adding in a low voice, “we were so good together,” it’s something that’s been clear to him since things between you two started. He felt better, happier, and he drank much less when you were with him. The fact he realized that before Jeff or you did, well that’s just ridiculous.

“I listened to Jeff because I needed to put myself and my career first, Harry,” you state in a hard tone. It’s taking every bit of willpower to not break out right now in front of him. 

Harry’s face, which was soften for only a moment as he thought about how good you guys were, hardens again at how unaffected you seemed. Like Jeff’s stupid sidekick robot. What happened to the girl he fell in love with?

“It’s just a stupid job,” he grumbles under his breath. 

You are so fed up that you actually laugh at his words, throwing both of your arms up into the air while Harry looks back at you and furrows his brows. You shake your head and grab your coffee from the vanity again. This was stupid. Your job has turned into the most stupid thing ever. It made you feel like shit, it hurt you every day to see Harry, and it’s all because of the choices you made. 

“Just don’t make today hard, please,” you say before walking past him and out of the dressing room. 

You need to sit down and think. Just for a moment. And that’s how you find yourself in the shower room beside you dressing room. It’s not connected like at the other venues, it’s more private and exactly what you need. 

You must’ve been in the shower room for an hour maybe. Standing there, leaning against the tile wall as you hear the faint sounds of the rush of the crew getting tonight underway. You maybe have another half an hour to stand here in your thoughts before you had to wipe away your tears and be the person you were here to be. To do your stupid job. 

The job that brought you to Harry, you one guy you’ve actually fallen in love with. Yes, it’s taken you an hour to realize and admit it. A whole freaking hour of fighting your feelings to see that you couldn’t be here another day. After this last while in the showers alone, then going out there tonight on the last night of the Australian leg of the tour, you’d be done. You’d talk to Jeff and you’d quit and you’d be freed of the torturous days on this tour that were filled with such heartbreak it made you feel sick most days. 

It had started out with you feeling sad. Waking up that next morning after Jeff finding out about you and Harry, you were still so sad while Harry was drinking heavy again and shouting at Jeff every two seconds. Then with seeing him drinking so much and being so angry, not even being Grumpy, he was just plain mean - you got angry too. His backhanded comments and his scowling, it was like a jab to the stomach each and every time. But throughout this whole week, one feeling was for sure and that was your feelings towards Harry. You loved him and it was killing you cause you couldn’t have him.

⏤

The last show here in Brisbane starts in a few hours and you’re nowhere to be seen. Jeff’s freaking out, while coughing up a lung, and the band and crew are confused and now Harry’s all worried. Maybe he should have just listened and shut up. But now here he was, walking around the venue in hopes to find wherever you’re hiding and this time he had no intentions to start a fight - this time he only cared that you were alright.

Harry stops by the closed door that leads to the showers. Leaning forward, he doesn’t hear any water - but he does hear you. You’re crying, light sounds of you sobbing alone causes a sting to his heart. It doesn’t matter how much he tried to drink away the feelings or shout out his anger to you, he still freaking loved you. 

He doesn’t hesitate to open the door. And with the sound of the door opening, you hold your breath, he can tell. Turning around the corner he finds you. You’re leaning against the counter that has a couple sinks and a mirror too, cheeks wet and eyes reds while your hands shake at the sight of Harry finding you here. It makes you want to cry all over again, and you do, not being able to hold yourself together anymore.

Harry doesn’t care about the harsh words or the shouting from before, all he cares about now it what’s got you so upset. So he walks forward and inhales deeply before taking the risk of reaching out for you. 

“Shhh, love, it’s okay,” Harry coos as he wraps both arms around you. He really doesn’t care if you were going to act like a bitch and push him away, he’d still hold you through the fussing - there was no way he could let you just stand in here and cry alone anymore.

Thankfully you don’t fight back. You lean into his touch, finally feeling his arms around you felt like the world wasn’t ending around you anymore. You only cry harder as your heart beats fast in your chest and you lean into the crook of his neck. You really couldn’t believe this was happening, after all the the bullshit this past week, you were really in his arms right now.

Harry grabs the back of your thighs gently and lifts you up effortlessly till your bum lands on the counter. As he leans back a bit in order to look at your face, you look down at where his hips were between your legs and sniffle. Harry sighs, lifts your chin and frowns as you avoid his eyes still. He settles for wiping the wetness beneath your eyes instead. Instantly he tries to remember the date, but it’s not the 5th of May, it’s not the one month mark since your fathers death. Not that it really matters, that could upset you and break you any day - but Harry saw you as such a strong young woman. Till he walked in here and saw you standing here crying.

Your body shakes as another muffled sob escapes your tightly pressed together lips. You shut your eyes tight and rest your chin down to your chest. Harry shuts his eyes at the sight of you upset, shaking his head slightly before wrapping his arms around you again.

“What is it love?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you mumble.

“What, what is it you can’t do?” Harry can tell his voice is easing you up a little.

You sniffle and look into his eyes for the first time now. Your eyes are red, still glossy from threatening tears waiting to fall down your cheeks.

“This, I can’t do this Harry, I can’t walk around here and pretend everything’s alright because it’s not,” you cry again and hold your sweater covered hands to your face. “I thought I could do this, I thought I could get over you,”

“It’s not easy, hey? I know, I keep falling for you every single day still,” Harry whispers into your hair. That only makes you cry harder, hands forming fists at the front of Harry’s shirt and he holds you tight. God this hurt so bad, Harry thinks as he chest tightens and he has to blink back tears of his own.

“Just be with me,” Harry pleads to you again, the same words he had said only just over a week ago now maybe even closer to two. All he knows is he’s been hurting ever since. “Fuck Jeff and his ultimatums and be with me,” he says.

“I can’t just be unemployed, Harry,” you say.

“We’ll figure something out, I’ll find you another job,”

This was the conversation you two should’ve had back in LA. But instead it was screaming and fighting back and forth before he ended up leaving your house and Harry ended up working out his anger by throwing back shots all night long. He runs his fingers through your hair and lets his lips linger to your bare shoulder, pressing a tender kiss before leaning back and kissing your cheek.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers, voicing cracking as his chest aches even more. “I swear all the angry and all the things I’ve said lately I don’t really mean, I’ve just been so hurt. I just miss you so much,” he says, admitting all these feeling aloud to you. 

You let out a strangled sound, as if you’re letting go of a toxic breath you’ve been holding, and turn your head to press your lips to his. Harry doesn’t freeze for even a second, holding your head with one hand as he kisses you back. Your legs wrap around his torso tight as you put your all into the kiss, arms looping around his neck too. Harry kisses you deeply till you’re both out of breath, literally panting as you pull back. You rest your head on his chest as he hugs you again.

“Please don’t leave me again,” Harry whispers right by your ear. He can hear his pulse in his own ears, nervous that any moment now you’ll snap back into Jeff’s robot and thrash out of his hold. He can’t deal with that heartbreak again, never ever again. 

You lean back and look into his eyes, noticing the glassy look to them still. 

“We’re talking to Jeff this time, no sneaking around,” you demand, your tone as serious as you can muster up through all the feelings you’ve had the past hour and a bit.

“Right away,” Harry urges.

“After the show, you have to go get ready soon and that’ll be a long hard conversation,” you exclaim. Harry glances up at reflection in the mirror, meeting his own gaze as he tightens his arm around your figure and presses a kiss to your hair. This was all he wanted, you right here in his arms again. 

“Only if you come and get ready with me today,” Harry says. You roll your eyes at him but there really wasn’t any other thing you’d rather do than help him pick out a suit.

⏤

Jeff sighs, “look, I figured this was going to happen eventually,” 

You three are sitting in the dressing room, Harry right by your side on the couch as the talk you’ve been dreading for hours now is about to begin. You and Harry got to hide away while he got ready, stolen kisses and smiles all around till you met with Jeff before Harry got on stage. Jeff must’ve notice Harry’s change in attitude, you sure as hell did cause it was a damn good change. He was actually grinning on stage again and he kept looking to stage right in hopes to catch your watching eyes. And then after the show Harry looked right at Jeff and say ‘we need to talk’ before letting you lead the way to the dressing room.

“Then why threaten Y/N’s job and ruin the one good thing going, huh?” Harry questions, clearly holding back a bit as he glares at his manager. You reach over and place a hand over his, hoping to calm him down. 

“Because I got scared, okay? Yes what I said about employee and employer relationships is true, it’s can be hard and a reputation can be slapped onto you, Y/N,” Jeff says, “but I was scared because I thought the absolute worst first, if you guys were to break up then I’d be left with the shit attitude of Harry alone and I’ve never had to deal with you without her, okay? She’s the only one who can get a damn grip on you and has been here with me since I became your manager,” 

You can’t help but smile at Jeff. He was totally right, you were the only one who could handle Harry - even this past week with his worst behaviour and things being even worse between you two, he still listened to you. But only one thing made sense as to why he’d listen to you, it was because he liked you. Like a lot. 

“And I’m sorry,” Jeff adds, looking both you and Harry in the eyes. 

“Well you’re the sole reason behind our worst week ever, but whatever, as long as you don’t pull this shit again then I’ll let it go,” Harry says. 

“I’ll do you one better,” Jeff says with a smile before he looks into your eyes, “I’ll give you a promotion,” he adds. 

“I’m sorry, a what?” you question. Your brows are pulled so tightly together while you stare at Jeff who’s still smiling like a fool. What in the world? 

“A promotion, within the label,” he states, “you will no longer be working for Harry, and you’ll get the job you really deserve after all these years of hard work,” 

“Can you give us some actual details?” Harry asks, eyes narrowed at Jeff as he seems a bit spectacle of whatever he’s going on about. You roll your eyes at Harry’s bitter tone of voice and thread your fingers through his. This gets his attention right away, his eyes flickering down to your intertwined hands instead of glaring at Jeff. 

“There’s a new artist we have just recently signed to the label, she goes by the name King Princess,” Jeff explains, pausing as both you and Harry look at him again. “Her real name is Mikaela Strauss and she needs a manager,” he says with a smile. 

“Wait-” 

“Are you saying you want me to be her manager?” you cut off Harry to throw out your own confusion. 

Jeff nods, “I’ve been on the phone with her over the past week now, telling her all about you, and she wants to meet up and get things going. She’s very talented and I believe in her a lot, been looking for someone to be her manager for a month now, you’ve always been at the top of my list. But like I said, I’ve been to scared to let you go, Y/N,” 

“Jeff,” you breathe out, “wow, uh, thank you,” 

Jeff’s smile grows even more as he takes in how shocked and happy you must look, because this is exactly the job you wanted. To be a manager of a new up and coming artist. And if Jeff believes in her then you wanted this even more. Harry’s watching you, heart bursting at the utter look of happiness spread across your face, before his name is said by Jeff and he’s looking back his way. 

“Just promise me that you’ll calm down on the drinking again, and that you’ll quit being so damn grumpy all the time,” Jeff says. 

Harry narrows his eyes, “I don’t know-”

“Shut up,” you inject, giving him a short glare before looking back to Jeff, “he’ll be on his best behaviour, I will make you that promise. Now when do I meet her?” you ask and listen intently as Jeff goes on to tell you what he’s been planning this past week. 

Harry turns his head and looks at you. His lips tug up into a smile, no doubt his dimple pop out, as he can’t help but watch you. How your lips move as you talk to Jeff or how bright your eyes look - they haven’t seemed so bright in a while now. You’re just so excited and it makes Harry excited too. He reaches up and brushes your hair behind your ear, causing you to look at him in the corner of your eye while Jeff goes on about her new job. 

“I’ll, uh, let you two have some time alone now,” Jeff says, “van leaves in twenty minutes to go back to the hotel,” he adds before he’s walking out of the dressing room and leaving you and Harry alone. 

“I feel like this should be so awkward, like we literally broke up and everything,” you say while Harry keeps brushing his fingers through your hair. 

“I think I’m too happy to be awkward,” he states. 

You smile and sit up in order to snuggle into his side some more. “I’m happy too,” you sigh. 

Harry let’s out a deep sigh as you move your body around some more to get comfortable in the few passing minutes you two had together. Finally, you thought to yourself while resting your head in his lap and looking up at Harry - you missed this so freaking much. Harry smiles softly and brushes back your hair from your face. 

“This past week has been the actual worst,” he says. 

“I know,” you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I really am sorry for anything I said or did, I was just so-” Harry pauses to let out a deep sigh and look away from your eyes and in front of him instead for just a couple seconds. “I was upset,” he says. 

You give him another smile as his eyes meet yours once more, “I’ve never really taken your outbursts to heart before, so don’t worry,” 

“God, I’ve just been such an ass lately,” Harry curses some more under his breath as you shake your head at him and sit back up. You don’t waste a minute before cupping both his cheeks in your hands. You didn’t think you’d get to hold him let this again, the thought brings another smile to your lips. 

“But things are okay again, right? We’re together, we’re happy, Jeff fixed his mistakes, so you’ll be okay again, right?” You question.

When thinking back to the drunken stupid he’s been in lately, you got a bit worried. He wasn’t even Grumpy then, he was in a bad place and it hurt you to know it was your doing so. That’s why you had messaged Anne just yesterday and hoped she’d say something to get Harry to slow down the hard liquor a little. You don’t remember Miller being called to pick up Harry last night, and he was here so early this morning so maybe he did. 

Harry leans forward as you’re deep in thought and presses his lips to yours. The feeling of him kissing you snaps you out of your thoughts while your hands card through his hair and your bring him even closer to you. Dear God you missed this. Your heart flutters and your stomach twists and turns as his hands grip your hips and pull your flesh against him now. How you two went this past week without kissing, or even kissing, beats you - suppose the hurt and anger suppressed the want that’s always there. 

“Okay, okay,” you breathe out while pulling back from the kiss. Harry mets your eyes with his bewildered ones, maybe they matched your own. You focus on your breathing while fixing his black button down shirt that you had managed to wrinkle in your hands. “Maybe, let’s just take this a little slow,” you say. 

“You’re not asking me to keep this a secret again, are you?” Harry questions. You know he’s teasing, but you can tell there’s a hint of worry behind his words too. You smile and peck his lips quickly before it can lead to something more. 

“No, but maybe it’s for the best that we don’t just go out there and make out in front of everyone,” you exclaim. Harry chuckles and nods, and with that you get up off the sofa and fix yourself. “The van leaves soon, let’s head out,” you say. 

“Can I hold your hand?” Harry asks, his eyes trailing down to where your hands were by your side. 

You wet your lips and smile, “yes,” you say. 

Harry doesn’t know what has him being so open with you, but he doesn’t waste his chance to reach out a thread his fingers through yours. The last time they’d held hands outside of the safety of their own space, someone had taken a picture and Jeff had found them before they hit the internet. And now this time neither of you had to worry about that, he could walk out of the dressing room with your hand in his and then after you drop his hand to answer some messages while getting into the van and ignoring the weird looks from the band he can rest his hand on your thigh too. 

“Can I sleep in your room tonight?” Harry asks, his voice so quiet you barely hear him yourself. You turn to him and narrow your eyes, meeting a classic smirk and twinkle in his eyes to match the daring question he had asked. 

“Maybe, but no funny business,” you tell him. 

Harry really did just want to spend more time with you. But with that devilish smirk and the way his hand slowly moved up your thigh... You let out a deep breath through your nose and don’t stop his hand till his fingertip lightly brushes over the material of your jeans right over the spot between your legs... Yeah... There was some funny business. 

⏤

You furrow your brows at your phone screen. FaceTiming your tired boyfriend meant that sometimes he would become too lazy to even hold the phone up. You watch lights pass by at what you assumed was the arena, waiting to finally see his face as he adjusts his phone to face him once more. A smile pulls at your lips as you see the fuzzy picture on your screen now. His hair is still a mess, even longer than you had last seen a couple weeks ago in person. 

“Hey,” he smiles. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” You ask, swirling around in your chair while holding the phone to better your angle. 

“Good, just kinda rushing around a bit,” Harry answers, looking away from the camera yet again as he seems distracted by something. You can hear some people talking around him, not that you could understand anything they’re saying it’s mostly just a crowd of people talking.

“Oh, was this a bad time to call?” you ask. 

Harry brings the camera close to his face and gives you a soft look right into the lens. “I always love talkin’ to ya and seein’ your face, love, but I’m just a bit busy,” he smiles. 

“Yeah, I get it,” you say and show him a short pout before turning back away from the view of the New York street below your office to your desk that had a few tasks at hand for you to get busy with anyways. “I should get back to work too,” you add. 

“Get to it, m’working girl,” Harry makes a show to wink at the camera too. You chuckle and shake your head at him. 

“Talk soon?” 

“Of course, love,” 

You pucker your lips to the camera before looking at the screen once more and admiring how cute your boyfriend was even through a crappy quality FaceTime call. Harry grins at the call before he pulls the phone back and you get the perfect sight of his jawline before the call ends. You place your phone on your desk and lean back in your chair with one last sigh - you missed Harry, a lot. 

Upon getting back together and you getting this promotion that Jeff set up, things got good for sure. You got to stick around through the Asian and South American tour dates, settling into your relationship with ease and everyone around really accepted the idea of you two being together too. You stare down at your phone screen as it lights up with a text from Mikaela saying she was just about at the office. Your background is from your last day on tour. Harry’s standing behind you, arm around your waist and a wide smile on his face while the rest of the band and few other crew members stood around you two. Those days were long gone it felt like. Now nearly a month later, over half way through Harry’s North American dates and you just really missed seeing him every day. 

“Hey,” Mikaela’s voice carries through the room as she enters, her sneakers squeak against the new hardwood and causing you both to cringe. 

“Should probably let the cleaning lady know that she can chill on the floors a bit,” you say. Mikaela chuckles and takes a seat in the big comfy leather seat on the other side of your desk. After getting this job and the head of the label place here in New York brought you to your office, you knew it needed a bit of sprucing up - hence the hardwood floors and comfy chairs for your favourite and only client. 

“So what’s up?” Mikaela asks, running a hair through her brown hair and pushing it to one side as you give her a smile. “What?” she questions, brows pulled together, suppose you needed to work on a poker face when delivering good news. 

“There’s something by the couch for you,” you say. 

Mikaela jumps up from the chair and walks over to where her first framed plaque for her very first single ‘1950′. Her eyes light up immediately as her hands grip both sides of the frame and her mouth gapes open. Then she’s shouting out in pure excitement and it warms your heart so freaking much that your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. 

“Y/N, I cannot thank you enough wow this is un-fucking-real,” she beams at you. 

“You’re welcome,” you reply, getting up to hug her quickly and take a few pictures for her too. 

“Oh, and thank Harry later for me, even his tweet really helped me out too, I’m sure I’ll just miss him,” she says only about ten minutes later as she’s got her things together and ready to leave the office once more. She was off to celebrate. But first, she had you so completely confused you had to question her before she left your office. 

“Miss him? What? I’m confused,” you say, brows wound tight together and arms crossing at your chest now. 

“Oh, uh,” Mikaela must realize she’s made a mistake of some sorts as her face winds up with confusion too. “I just heard some people talking at the front desk about clearing out the parking space for Mr Styles’s arrival this afternoon,” she explains. “And I probably just ruined a whole surprise I’m assuming, so let’s just forget about this conversation,” she says before she’s running off with her plaque in hand. 

You move to lean against the front of your desk and pull out your phone. For a moment you think about calling Harry again, or even just sending him a quick text telling him the surprise is over. Or you could just wait and pretend Mikaela never said anything at all. An email about King Princess’s newest song release date shows up at the top of your screen and suddenly you’re in work mode again. Without a doubt you’re still thinking about what Mikaela supposedly heard and if your boyfriend was going to walk through the door any minute... 

That’s when he does. You first see a bouquet of flowers pushing through your door, causing a smile to tug on your lips but you cross your arms at your chest again and try to hold back the utter grin that’s pulling on your lips. Harry walks into your office, holding that beautiful bouquet of flowers and giving you a smile. He looks just as he did a while ago when you saw on over FaceTime. 

“I was wondering when you were going to get here,” you say slyly. 

Harry scowls then, “who ruined it?” 

You just shake your head and let your smile break through then. “Nobody,” you say. 

Harry walks over and set the flowers down on your desk beside you before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tight. Inhaling deeply, smelling his cologne so strongly instead of the faint smell on the sweater you had stolen, your heart does that cute little pitter patter in your chest. Harry leans back and brings his hands up to your face, placing them on both of your cheeks. Shutting your eyes, you’re ready to feel his lips against yours but after a moment he doesn’t kiss you and instead adjusts his hands on your face. You open you eyes and meet his, mirroring his smile as well. 

“Missed ya,” he mutters. 

“I missed you too,” you say. 

Harry leans forward and brushes his nose against your before meshing your smiles together and kissing you with so much passion your head spins. You haven’t told him yet - but you really did love the crap out of this boy. Coming to New York a whole week earlier than his show was here at Madison Square Garden, surprising you, bringing you flowers and kissing you like this too. What more could you ask for? You were by far the happiest you’ve been in so freaking long. 

“Think we could get away with doing it right here in your office?” Harry questions jokingly while squeezing your bum with one hand. 

You chuckle and narrow your eyes at him, “settle down,” you warn. Harry gives you a slight scowl. “Oh come on now, Grumpy, can’t wait till we at least get to my car?” 

Harry shakes his head at you and smirks before his lips are back on yours. Yeah, life had turned out pretty good. And it was really all thanks to that ridiculous Grumpy prick you worked for. The one you had fallen in love with. 

thank you for reading xx 

(check out the story page for post ‘grumpy’ blurb also)

[eastergrass]

Alligator Pears

We were supposed to meet here. I have walked across the lake to this island where Andre’s cabin puffs chimney smoke into the gray sky, I have walked this water before. The lake had groaned below me as I made tracks in the snow. The hatchback was down a fire lane that had last been used maybe a month ago. The water was beginning to run through culverts, but there was still a lot of snow in the woods. There were no wildflowers. Nothing green, other than the firs.

The winter sky had begun to distinguish itself from the rest of the landscape: the still, pale trees. The flat canvas of ice. Now, there is only a small window of time when one should walk on a lake. A few decades ago, I could have driven out here. In April.

When I arrive, his cabin is empty, but a fire burns white in his old iron stove. I set my bag on his low, springy cot and sit at the small bachelor’s dining table. A bit of white powder incriminates a clipboard that pins down a sheet of notebook paper, blank except for some dark stains. I forgot my cell phone, of course. I remove my boot, my sweaty wool socks. It’s almost too warm. I imagine now he may have dropped through the ice, his own cell buzzing away in the frozen depths, waking the fish.

We were supposed to meet here. Andre is my go-to guy for a lot of things. He has blue tattoos on his knuckles and he’s tall and skinny and dresses like he lives in a sewer. We met many years ago, before the border closed. He has always been an entrepreneur of markets untapped. I originally met him when he was a photographer on a dried-out farm on the West coast. Things have gone downhill for him, but they didn’t have too many other places to go. On the wall is a poster: a bright illustration of a young mother with a black bandanna below her eyes and her baby’s mouth at her breast. Painted on the wall’s raw wood is a lime that is more egg-shaped than anything, covered with splotchy black dots and painted the wrong green.

A stack of black spray painted five-gallon-buckets leans against the wall.

There is a tin can on the table with four cigarette butts and a roach. An olive-colored Coleman drains onto the floor. This is where we were supposed to meet. He has the produce. It is getting cold, I feel it all over and all the way through.

It is Michelle who really needs the avocados. “I want some,” she said to me the other day, lying in our bleached sheets. “I haven’t seen an avocado in years. I could get a hooker, a gun, I could still get a gram of coke. but you just can’t get avocados anymore. At least not in the U.S. Nothing grows, and nothing is delivered” She was right, and I just need to please her. If she wants avocados, she needs them. I want her to get big and fat off essential oils. The other night I set my lips on her belly-button, that soft hub of life, and told her I’d call my old friend Andre. He can get these things, he’s in New England.

It had all been arranged. I lift the cover on the pregnant potbelly stove and look at the black logs and feel the blast of heat. I don’t know where Rico gets the things he gets. There are a lot of things people want that have grown harder to find in the past few decades: real cheese, nice clothes, coffee, citrus, real drugs and good songs. I’ve never been much of a reader, but I’ve heard complaints there as well. Michelle bought a gram of matcha, six ounces of pine nuts, and real champagne.

I have to do these things for her, now more than ever. When we first met it was her face. I am ashamed to admit it, but at the time I was interested in little else.

Her black and symmetrical (almost mannish) brows, and her washed-out blonde hair. After we moved in together I realized she did nothing to maintain her eyebrows, and it was all the work of a higher power.

I grope the avocados. Four are very green, one is small and almost black. Andre has left them in astraw basket on the counter. I put my boots back on and go outside. There is a green tarp pulled back to expose a woodpile, and a red tank of gasoline. I see footprints going around the house, but they are filled uo partway with old snow. The sun has set. I think about the ice.

“Andre?” The obvious echo. Andre, we were supposed to meet here.

I can hardly see the lake for the darkness. There are these footprints but I have no cellphone, so I begin to follow them, setting my feet directly within his tracks. We always met in odd places: down alleys, in stranger’s basements, in pool halls, parking lots, and trailheads.

“Andre, Andre,” I mutter. I feel the snot freezing in my nose. The pines moan all around me, occasionally shaking off a mantle of snow. Above all else I hope Michelle doesn’t worry and I hope for Andre’s safety.

I recall that my mother always bought avocados, years ago, usually five a week. She told me about how they were called alligator pears, because of their shape and reptilian hide. You used to be able to get them a dollar a piece, or two if they were organic. I brought sixty dollars for Rico. The market we went to when I was a kid had photographs of farmers from across the globe above the bright produce, where a sprinkler system drizzled on the fifteen-minute mark. A blast of coffee-smell greeted you around certain corners. No flowers were ever out of season, and pretty women with dry hair and soft skin tallied our careful purchases. My mom always had the burlap bags and a heavy black credit card.

I see the lake now: its teeming blankness. I stop in Rico’s cold path. It goes a bit further ahead of me over the shore and the footprints set a straight line in the drifted snow, one that heads onto the lake. I can only imagine Rico below the ice, the ink frost-bitten off his brown skin. 

Now, he is probably bobbing in that giant frigid womb of lake water, his body awaiting the spoiled birth of spring.

“One week out of the year,” he had warned me over the phone. “Nowadays, there’s only one week you can make it to the island and back. If it cracks anywhere at all we’re both fucked.”