#but i can definitely feel improvement even in the scribbles with how i set up a composition or scene

[nevlartery]

18. Split

[ID: A black and white sketch of Jason Todd wiping blood off his mouth, his helmet broken on his face]

[wondernimbus]

two sworn enemies — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.

requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.

After being on the receiving end of Malfoy's torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she's supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.

The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy's incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.

Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the "big-headed" Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he'd even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn't anymore.

Fourth year wasn't so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]'s concern along with it. She'd even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.

"How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around."

"How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch."

Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. "Tell Granger she can improve her right hook." At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn't a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]'s worries. She's gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.

But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what's gotten into him, but Draco's cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they've known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he's been bad-mouthing for the past four years.

The first time it happens, [Y/N] can't believe her ears. She thinks he's yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting "DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER" at her from halfway across the Great Hall.

But he's definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.

"Is he talking to me?" [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.

"Looks like it." Hermione looks just as surprised as her. "Knowing Malfoy, he's not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N]."

But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, "ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I'D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER'S BAT INTO YOUR—"

Whatever Malfoy is up to, [Y/N] isn't entirely sure she's enjoying it. The next afternoon—also in the Great Hall, while [Y/N] is doing her homework instead of eating lunch (because Snape apparently thinks it's a good idea to ask for a four-page essay when the school year has barely even started), there's a thump and [Y/N] looks up to see that there's a little red envelope sitting on her empty plate. Looking even further up, she sees an owl flying away from the table and out of the roof of the Great Hall, where the owls always come from to deliver letters—although that only happens at breakfast. Which means this is from someone else, likely another student.

[Y/N] stares.

"It's a Howler," Harry says from next to her, like she doesn't already know.

"I'm aware," she mutters, narrowing her eyes at it before she sets down her quill to grab it.

"Who would send you a Howler?" Ron has looked up from where he'd been shoveling beans into his plate. He crowds into her space, peering at the envelope she now holds in her hands; and she can't really answer him, because only her name is scribbled across the front in handwriting she doesn't recognize. Whoever sent it to her didn't bother with writing their own name.

She hesitates, brows furrowed as she, too, wonders where it's from. Her parents don't have a reason to send her a Howler—unless she's done something wrong that she isn't aware of. But it's only been a week since school has started and as far as she can tell, she hasn't done anything worthy of being sent a Howler. Or at least not yet.

"Might as well," she sighs—it's going to deliver its message one way or the other, anyway, and [Y/N] prefers to open it herself than have it burst into flames, rain ashes down upon her homework, and then start talking—so she opens the envelope.

The Howler jumps to life in front of her, hovering in front of her face, and [Y/N] has never seen a piece of stationery look so angry before. A forked tongue slips out of the envelope—[Y/N] braces herself for the worst, despite not knowing who on earth might have sent it—until a familiar voice booms around the Great Hall.

"ARE YOU A BASILISK? BECAUSE WHEN I SAW YOU, I FROZE."

Ron's shoulders automatically start shaking with laughter. Most of the Great Hall—or at least the ones close enough to hear the Howler—have turned around to watch the spectacle unfold, giggling behind their palms and pointing at [Y/N] like she can't see them. [Y/N], in the meantime, stares, completely dead to the world and everything else around her, because she knows that voice.

But then the Howler keeps talking. "IF YOU LET ME TAKE YOU ON A DATE, I CAN PROMISE YOU THINGS THOSE FILTHY PEASANTS CAN NEVER GIVE YOU."

The entire hall has fallen completely silent. [Y/N] feels her face burning up, but not with embarrassment—[Y/N] is angry. She feels it thrumming in her veins, curling around her lungs, clouding all of her senses.

With a single flick of [Y/N]'s wand, the Howler bursts into flames with a final feeble wheeze of I'm also a fairly good snogger. Ron is roaring with laughter and Harry has also joined in. Two-faced gits.

[Y/N] slams her palms down on the table and vaguely even registers the pain this gives her as she steps out from behind the bench and turns around to face the Slytherin table because of course she knows who sent the Howler. Of course she knows who would go out of his way to humiliate her in front of the entirety of Hogwarts, because that extremely irritating, maddeningly haughty voice can only belong to one person—and sure enough, the idiot in question is standing there on top of the benches, arms outstretched towards her and that proud, snooty look on his face like he expects her to actually be impressed.

Over Ron and Harry's laughter, [Y/N] shouts angrily, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy drops his arms to his sides, hops off the bench, and swaggers towards her. She meets him halfway—and when she does, she doesn't hesitate to shove him angrily by the shoulders. He stumbles back a little, but he's still grinning annoyingly wide. "Have you come to me bearing an answer?" he says, his tone mocking, and [Y/N] just barely suppresses herself from whipping out her wand and jabbing it somewhere she wouldn't want a wand anywhere near. They are still surrounded by teachers. "I imagine it's a yes—who would turn me down, after all—"

"Drop the fucking act," she hisses; all eyes are on them, because Hogwarts never passes up a chance for gossip, and this might be the most exciting one yet. Draco Malfoy publicly asking out the girl everyone knows he's hated, and has hated him, for a long time—what a spectacle. But [Y/N] knows that his intentions are far from genuine; this is just another way to humiliate her and get on her nerves. And as much as she hates to admit it, it's a pretty good fucking move, because she hasn't been this annoyed by him in a long time.

Her teeth are gritted together so hard her words barely come out coherent. "I don't know what you're playing at," she practically growls, taking a step closer to get in his face, "But I encourage you to get yourself together."

But Malfoy seems unaffected. "Pity you didn't let the Howler finish," he drawls, still with that same smirk on his lips as he wriggles his brows suggestively. "I could've told you more about my superior snogging skills."

"Which is exactly why I didn't," she fumes. "We're in the middle of lunch—any more of you talking about your 'superior snogging skills' and the entirety of this hall would've thrown up on themselves. I know I would've."

At this, the smile on Malfoy's face droops a little, a ghost of his familiar sneer seeping in. [Y/N] takes a step back away from him, because she can't stand being more than a few feet near the prat. "You've got a lot of nerve, pulling this," she scoffs. "Try it again and you'll regret it. Now excuse me while I go do my bloody homework."

And then she turns around, goes back to the Gryffindor table, and does her bloody homework.

—

But Malfoy, as it turns out, isn't as weak-willed as he lets on. She's started receiving Howlers every morning at breakfast, all of which burst into flames every time to rain ashes upon her innocent plate of eggs and toast, but only after loudly blurting out some ridiculously bad pick-up line. It's been four days since the first Howler and they've only gotten progressively worse ever since—"you must be a Boggart because I'm terrified of pretty women"—and [Y/N] is beginning to grow so very tired.

Today, she hexes him in the middle of the hallway just as he's coming out of Potions class. She had warned him, all those days ago, that he'd regret it if he didn't let up. So [Y/N] watches, terribly amused as Draco starts wailing in the corridor, his hands splayed over his face in a measly attempt to cover the sardines falling out of his nostrils. It's an irreversible hex—or at least for eight hours—but until then, Draco will have to deal with the tiny fishes that shoot out of his nose at random intervals. [Y/N] can't bring herself to feel bad, not when he's humiliated her time and time again in front of so many people.

No Howlers arrive the morning after. There's a sense of what feels like disappointment coming off of the Great Hall; some people have actually turned around in their seats to watch her in anticipation for an owl to come swooping down upon her bearing a red envelope. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't happen. [Y/N], meanwhile, is finally at peace.

Or at least until Ron jabs her in the side and goes, "So are you?" he's grinning. "A Boggart, I mean."

It's a reference to the Howler she received yesterday. Her movements are dangerously swift; immediately she smacks the back of his head, sending him into a complaining frenzy. She rolls her eyes. "Stupid Malfoy."

"As much as I hate to say this," Harry begins, "I kind of wish you hadn't hexed him into stopping. His pick-up lines were pretty funny."

"Ha!" [Y/N] points a finger at Harry and nods approvingly, laughing a little. "That's a good one, Harry."

Harry stares at her dead in the eye. "Oh, I wasn't joking."

Her face falls.

"I suppose being on the receiving end of Malfoy's affection isn't any better than being hated by him," says Hermione, offering [Y/N] a sympathetic smile. "It's a good thing you showed him not to mess with you any further, [Y/N]."

[Y/N] tries for a smile of her own, but it comes out all stiff and crooked. "I feel like the past few days have been a fever dream," she says, shuddering. "This new form of—bullying, I don't know—has just been so weird. The bad names I've gotten used to, but—the compliments? The pick-up lines?"

"D'you think he's gone off his rocker?" Ron suggests.

"Maybe he fancies you," says Hermione off-handedly.

The effect this has on the three is instantaneous; Ron, Harry, and [Y/N] simultaneously blanch as though they've all swallowed something sour at the same time. Ron is choking on a piece of toast and Harry has spit water everywhere.

"Absolutely not," [Y/N] is shaking her head, nose wrinkled in distaste. "He can't possibly—that's ridiculous. We've hated each other for years."

"Feelings do change," Hermione shrugs, rolling her eyes at Ron and Harry, who have yet to recover from their initial shock. "And besides, it was just a suggestion. Although I don't see why he'd go out of his way to send you Howlers repeatedly asking you out if he doesn't fancy you."

"Because he wants to humiliate me in front of everyone!"

"Oh, alright, alright," Hermione sighs, sensing her defeat. "But you never know."

Ron has gathered his bearings once more. He turns to Hermione, genuine concern flooding his features, and blubbers, "Did I hear you right? Malfoy—fancying [Y/N]?"

"Yes, Ronald." Another eye-roll. "It's not that outlandish. Boys are boys—even Malfoy."

"Merlin's beard," he slumps down in his seat, shaking his head. "I don't think I've ever been this surprised. Not since I heard that Percy managed to score himself a girlfriend, and that was three years ago."

A few days pass, and while no more Howlers arrive, Malfoy is still as insistent as ever in his attempts to "woo" her—or, well, whatever it is he's trying to do. [Y/N] doesn’t quite know what to call it anymore; for some reason, it no longer feels like an attempt to bully or humiliate her. It's not as though he's insulting her, and it's not like her reputation is in any way being lessened. In fact, most of Hogwarts, it seems, enjoys the so-called "love-hate relationship" they've got going on, and expects them to get together sometime in the near future.

[Y/N] learns all of this from Fred and George, who are always a good source of gossip.

"What better love story than two sworn enemies falling in love?" George gushes, clasping his hands together.

"So romantic," Fred sings, closing his eyes and swaying his hips as though listening to a sultry tune only he can hear. “Setting aside their differences to answer the call of their hearts."

"Oh, Malfoy's still an arse, of course."

"But it's still romantic."

Part of [Y/N] wishes that the twins hadn’t told her that, because it makes it all the more confusing on her part. If, by some miracle, Malfoy does fancy her—what is she supposed to do? Ride off with him into the sunset? They are enemies—they have been for four, supposedly five years now, except this year Malfoy is being an insufferable twat who won't stop yelling pick-up lines at her in the hallways.

[Y/N] decides to turn a blind eye on him. If she ignores him for long enough, he's bound to stop.

Right?

—

Despite being a close friend to the famous Harry Potter, [Y/N] can say she’s made a name for herself at school that stretches far beyond just that girl who hangs out with the Chosen One. She’s been playing for the Gryffindor Quidditch team for two years and has contributed to some of the house’s most fantastic wins as a Chaser, and she’s also a fairly good student. She may have a penchant for trouble-making, but she knows how to limit herself. She prides herself for her work ethic and thus her grades are above average—enough for her to earn the favor of most of her teachers and for eager first-years to sometimes come up to her asking for help doing homework.

But enough for those very same first-years to come up to her in the hallway ready to do all of her biddings for the day, practically demanding her to hand over her books so that they can carry them for her? No. Certainly not. [Y/N] may have made a name for herself, but definitely not one renowned enough to earn the eleven-year-olds now crowded around her moments after she steps out of potions class, telling her that, “We’re here at your disposal! If you need us to do anything, just say the word!”

[Y/N] stares at the three children clustered around her, all wide-eyed and for some reason incredibly eager for her to start bossing them around.

Taken aback, she ushers them into a corner; the hallway is busy and people will keep bumping into them if they stay in the middle of the hallway like that.

Once away from the bustling main corridor, she bends down a little so that she’s at eye-level with all of them. “At my disposal?” she repeats, eyes narrowing playfully. “What do you mean?”

“We’re here to carry your books for you or grab you snacks from the kitchens or tie your shoelaces if you need us to!” one of them exclaims, bouncing on his toes.

Alright—this is getting ridiculous. [Y/N] pauses, lips pressed together into a thin line as she stares at each one of the first-years in turn; all three of them are staring at her as though waiting for her to start asking them to do push-ups.

She inhales. Someone must have put them up to this, because there is no way these children woke up this morning and simultaneously decided to become her servants for the day.

“Well,” she begins, smiling at them—and good grief, did she really look that young when she was eleven? “Thank you for offering to help me. I appreciate it, really—but lucky for me I’ve got some very capable arms and I think I can handle tying my shoelaces and carrying my books around and whatnot. But again—thank you. You’re all very nice.”

She pauses to look at their reactions; the smiles on their faces have drooped a little as they turn to one another, seemingly at a loss for words. “But,” the one girl says, frowning, “We’re supposed to help you.”

[Y/N] raises her eyebrows. “Supposed to?”

Someone definitely put them up to this—[Y/N] is certain of it now. And she has a good guess as to who.

She starts by saying, tone gentle, “Did someone tell you to do this? Because that’s really kind, and I’d love to thank them.”

The girl bunches up her lips in thought, shuffling her feet against the ground. “We’re not supposed to say,” she mutters, glancing at the two boys next to her nervously.

[Y/N] inhales. She needs confirmation, so she crouches down so that she’s the same height as them, and offers them all the friendliest, most trustworthy smile she can muster. The kind that wins over eleven-year-olds. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me,” she tells them gently, and waits for them to nod in understanding before she goes, “Was it Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?”

They don’t have to respond—the looks on their faces are enough confirmation. [Y/N] suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, because of course Malfoy is the kind of person to somehow get first-years to do something like this. And she’s pretty sure it has something to do with bribery.

“Did he promise to give you anything, maybe?” [Y/N] presses on patiently.

The girl leans in and cups her hand over her mouth to whisper excitedly, “Chocolate frogs. Five for each of us.”

Ah. Of course. [Y/N] sighs inwardly and nods, standing up properly to once more tower over the tiny first-years. As much as she would love to have her own personal butlers, there is absolutely no way she is agreeing to take any part in exploiting these young kids. So she ruffles all of their hair in turn and promises to give them much, much more chocolate frogs than Malfoy will ever be able to offer if they swear to ignore him for the rest of their lives.

So she stands there in the hallway, a minute late for Transfiguration, watching the three first-years skip down the hallway, grinning excitedly to themselves—no doubt because they’ve just been promised what could be an infinite supply of chocolate frogs.

Which [Y/N] will now have to spend a lump of her summer savings on. Great. Bloody fantastic.

She didn’t think she could hate Draco Malfoy even more than she already did, but now, with the burden of buying chocolate frogs resting on her shoulders, she realizes that anything is possible.

[Y/N] finds Draco later on in the day when she’s heading to the Great Hall for dinner; as she’s passing by a window that coincidentally overlooks the Quidditch pitch, she sees him zooming around the stadium by himself, no doubt practicing to better his (in [Y/N]’s opinion) ghastly Seeker skills.

So she trudges off to the pitch, arms folded over her chest as she yells, “Malfoy!”

He notices, stops in mid-air, and immediately flies down to land in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other resting on top of his broom. That signature smirk is already on his face, mirrored by [Y/N]'s angry scowl. “Here to take me up on my offer for a date?” he grins, shaking his (sweaty, wet) hair out of his eyes. [Y/N] watches the movement, unimpressed. “Or were you just planning to watch me practice?”

She scoffs, tearing her eyes away from the way he’s running a hand through his blond hair. “Neither. I thought you were bad enough, Malfoy, but bribing first-years into doing my bidding for me? In exchange for bloody chocolate frogs?”

Malfoy’s hand pauses in carding through his hair. He drops it back to his side. “So you figured it out.”

”Why else would first-years be so eager for me to boss them around?”

”Maybe because they find you just as beautiful as I do?” he suggests, eyes glinting, the smile on his face growing even wider. [Y/N] lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter, because is he really still keeping this act up when no one is around to see? Is he that desperate to get on her nerves?

“Just stop it, Malfoy,” she says through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to him. At this, he whistles a little, eyebrows rising, and for some reason [Y/N] tries very, very hard not to look at the sweat trickling down his forehead, the pale pink hue of his cheeks from the strain of practicing—“Please for the love of Merlin can you just drop the whole I’m-in-love-with-you act? You got what you wanted. You’ve annoyed me enough.”

Draco's nose wrinkles. “Oh, but that’s not what I wanted,” the smile on his face falters a little. ”Did you really think I did all of this just to annoy you?”

[Y/N]’s eyebrows furrow—and is that her heart skipping a beat? No. No, definitely not. Falling quiet for a few moments, she finally sniffs and says, “Why else would you go out of your way to act absolutely smitten by me?”

An echo of Hermione's voice from several days ago reverberates through her head. Maybe he fancies you.

Malfoy shrugs, his smirk falling just the tiniest bit to be replaced by a semblance of sincerity. But that can’t be. And then he says, “Maybe I fancy you,” and [Y/N]’s eyes widen.

That can’t be right. Flabbergasted, she blinks, taking a step back. This has to be some sort of joke—no, yes, that’s exactly what this is: another way to crawl under her skin and annoy the daylights out of her. She has to applaud him for his creativity.

Pinching the space between her eyes in irritation, she looks up at Malfoy, inhales, and says, deadpan, “I’m being serious.”

“I am too,” Malfoy counters, eyebrows raised innocently, and [Y/N] has never wanted to smack him more than she does now.

She lets out another incredulous laugh, because this entire situation is just so bloody ridiculous that she can’t quite wrap her head around it. Throwing her hands up in the air in frustration, she turns to him and says, “Alright—okay. Let’s say you do fancy me. I’m going to pretend for a few seconds that you do—okay?”

Draco watches her, evidently amused judging by his grin, shrugs, and nods.

“Okay,” she huffs. “If you do fancy me—why on earth would you?”

Draco opens his mouth, but she cuts him off: “We hate each other, Malfoy. We’ve hated each other since the moment you laid eyes on me and I laid eyes on you. What could have possibly changed your rotten mind?”

He rolls his eyes at this, shifting a little on where he stands. “For starters,” he begins, like he’s talking to a five-year-old, “I didn’t hate you. I disliked the fact that you hung out with the wrong sort of people.”

”The wrong sort of people,” she repeats, deadpan.

“The Weasleys. Blood traitors. Mudbloods.”

She scowls at him, brain struggling to fathom what the bloody hell he’s trying to tell her. Managing to once more plow through her confusion, she says, “Your point is?”

“I’d have asked you out long ago if only you were smarter with who you chose to befriend,” and there it is—that familiar, distasteful sneer [Y/N] hasn’t seen in a long time. “Your family’s one of the oldest wizarding families around. It’s a shame.”

She lets out another scoff of disbelief, but the first few of Draco's words have something inside of her stirring. She refuses to address it and instead says, “So—and again, I’m pretending—you fancy me because of my family?”

He lets out a little sniff. “Not what I said.”

”What is it you’re trying to say, then?”

“Blimey, how long is it going to take you to realize that I actually bloody fancy you?”

Draco has dropped all pretense of nonchalant arrogance; he’s staring at her, obviously frustrated and a little annoyed. He stops leaning on his broom and lets it drop to the ground in favor of advancing towards her until he’s mere inches away from her face.

”I fancy you,” he repeats, and it’s funny, how he says it, because declarations of love are supposed to be sweet and gentle—not scathing and angry. He’s scowling down at her, lip curling, brows drawn in together in the middle in a tight frown. “I’ve decided that I don’t care who you hang around anymore because I fancy you. Do you get it now?”

[Y/N] swallows, staring at him, momentarily frozen. Malfoy doesn’t seem as though he’s joking—and now she doesn’t know what to say. She’s never been this close to him before—close enough to see herself in the reflection of his eyes, which are a striking grey and remind her of thunderstorms brewing behind dark clouds—

She takes in a deep breath and swivels around, turning away from him. “Stop sending children to be my servants,” she says, and starts to walk away—until Malfoy grabs her wrist and forces her to look at him again.

For a moment the look in his eyes convinces [Y/N] that he’s about to apologize, but then his lips are splitting into a wide grin again and he says, “What if I bribe a seventh year into doing your homework for you?”

Another scoff. She tears her wrist away from his grip and stalks off, in complete and utter disbelief.

”Or a house-elf to bring you food?” he calls after her. “Someone to do your hair for you in the morning? Or someone to yell at me for you?”

She halts at the last one, and for some odd, unknown reason, she feels like smiling. But she doesn’t, because that will open a door into something she isn’t sure she wants to explore. So she turns around, suppressing that mysterious little smile, already twenty feet away from Malfoy as she says, loudly, “I like doing that last one myself, thanks.”

From this distance, she thinks Malfoy might be smiling. But she doesn’t stay long enough to find out.

click here to read pt. 2!

[thunder-at-dawn]

7 with eternalduo? lee!eret perhaps?? idk -paper anon

i loved writing this one so much oh my god thank you for this galaxy brain prompt paper anon

word count: 1,805

prompt list can be found here!

prompt 7: "i happen to know a weakness of yours."

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don't read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

The Red Banquet was an event that shook the land. Everyone who attended left with something in mind. Whether it be hope for the future or a feeling of dread, it was a night that no one would forget.

For Eret, they were reminded that they needed to be more alert.

They nearly died that night. They were almost sacrificed, and had no way of defending themselves. While royalty normally had knights in shining armor and didn’t have to ever defend themselves, Eret decided that would no longer be the case. The monarch had never really been the fighting type, and hopefully, would never have to be. They just decided that it was time to practice some skills.

One of the things that Eret did was set up an archery range. It was behind their castle, and had a small variety of targets to shoot at, all different lengths away from the starting line. They often spent quite a bit of time there, regularly practicing their aim and making sure to hit as many targets as they could.

Today was a relaxing day, a cool breeze flowing through the air with a slight overcast in the sky. Eret drew back their bow, taking a deep breath. The only noises around were just the chirps of bird and the wind passing through. Eret calmed their mind, focusing only on the target.

PING!

They unclenched their hand, watching the bow zip towards it’s target. It landed right in the center. A perfect bullseye.

“Woo!”

Eret paused, knowing that cheer didn’t come out of their own mouth. When they heard clapping, they turned around to see an old friend applauding for them.

“A bullseye! Bravo, old pal! Bravo!” Foolish clapped his hands together as he walked towards Eret. The monarch smiled and took bow, both of them now laughing at the antic.

“How’s your day been?” Eret asked, walking over to the targets to collect the arrows they had shot around.

“Eh, it’s been alright.” Foolish shrugged, crossing his arms and resting them on the fence post that acted as the shooting line. “Just been building stuff like usual, and I was in the area, so of course I had to pay a visit to my old pal! And you were exactly where I’d thought you be.”

“My castle?” Eret asked, pulling an arrow out of the target they had previously shot at.

“No, the archery range behind your castle. You’ve been spending a lot of time here for the past month or so, I’ve noticed.”

“Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.” Eret nodded, stepping behind the fence and loading an arrow in their bow. As Foolish nodded in agreement to Eret’s statement, the monarch pulled back the drawstring, taking a deep breath and focusing on the target in front of them. They released the string, watching the arrow fly straight out towards the target and landing in the center. Another bullseye.

“WOO! Man, you’re good at this! I feel like… you’re just unstoppable! You’re a force of nature, nothing can take you down!” Foolish said in awe before pausing, a small smile on his face. “Well, actually, there is one thing.”

“The wind.” Eret answered with a small chuckle. “It’s definitely made things a lot harder out here than they normally are.”

“Oh, no. I was thinking of something else.” The totem-shark stepped closer to his friend, now grinning widely. “I happen to know a weakness of yours.”

“Oh really now? And what would that be?” Eret pulled back the drawstring to the bow, focusing and making sure the arrow would hit the target. They took a deep breath, ready to fire. However, right as they let go of the drawstring, they felt two hands suddenly squeeze at their side. The bow’s aim was suddenly shifted down, and the arrow landed right in front of the target, in the grass instead of on the target itself. Eret whipped around, only to be greeted by a grinning Foolish.

“The fact that you’re stupidly ticklish.” Foolish smirked as he looked as his friend, who scoffed with a grin on their face.

“Betrayal.” They mumbled, although they couldn’t help but laugh a bit to themselves.

“Oh, come on. It provides a fun challenge, doesn’t it? You try to shoot bullseyes into the targets, while I try to not make that happen. It’ll help you improve your skills!” Foolish suggested.

They looked at their old friend, chuckling as they loaded another arrow into the string. “Alright, challenge accepted.” They nodded, Foolish clapping his hands with excitement and standing behind Eret.

Eret stood in place, pulling back the drawstring once again. Everything was calm and peaceful until they started to feel one-finger pokes across their torso.

“Heyyyy, Eret! Are you gonna shoot that? Are you gonna shoot the arrow?” Foolish asked as he prodded around the monarch’s sides and stomach.

“Ihi’m trying to focus.” Eret said, a giggle slipping out.

“Oh? Was that a giggle? I thought I heard something, I guess I’ll have to prod a little more to get it out of ya, huh?” Foolish started to poke at the right side of Eret’s body with two rapid fingers. They tried to keep their laughter in and focus on the target, but they eventually broke into giggles, stumbling away from Foolish and letting go of the arrow. It flew out and landed on one of the white rings of the target.

“Looks like you gotta get some more practice in, huh?” Foolish teased. Eret rolled their eyes, moving to a target that was closer to them. They drew back an arrow, taking a breath and holding it steady. However, things wouldn’t be peaceful for long. Foolish quickly shot his hands up into Eret’s underarms, surprising the monarch and causing them to accidentally let go of the arrow. It shot upwards in the air, landing somewhere on the blue ring, above the bullseye.

“Foolish!” Eret whined lightheartedly.

“What?! You agreed to this!” Foolish shot back. Technically, he was right, but whatever. A challenge was a challenge.

Eret made their way to other targets on the shooting range, wanting to shoot a bullseye, but Foolish would be there to thwart their plans every time. He would poke at one spot repeatedly, taser them in the sides, blow light air onto their neck, and everything else imaginable to throw them off guard. It would work every time, as Eret was unable to hit a single bullseye.

The monarch set their sights on the furthest target away from the shooting line. This would be the last arrow Eret would shoot until they had to go and retrieve the arrows back from the targets. They drew back the string of the bow, holding it steady and waiting for Foolish to try to distract them. They let go, the arrow flying and landing on the blue ring.

“You didn’t do anything that time.” Eret acknowledged out loud, turning towards their friend.

“That’s right!” Foolish commented, not adding anything else.

Eret wouldn’t lie, they were a little bit suspicious. They watched Foolish closely, but shrugged it off when it seemed like they had no mischievous intent.

“…Alright.” Eret set the bow on the ground, turning their back to Foolish. “I’m going to go get the other arr- AH!”

Oh, how wrong they were to think that Foolish was going to let them off so easily. The demigod had tackled them to the ground, and he held Eret’s wrists so that they couldn’t try to escape.

“What? I had to catch you off guard somehow! You know, you gotta be aware of your surroundings when you’re shooting arrows, old pal! You never know when a monster could sneak up from behind and attack you! You could get blown up by a creeper, shot by a skeleton, your brain could get eaten by a zombie, or in this case…” Foolish grinned, letting go of Eret’s wrists and forming his hands into claw shapes. “You could get snuck up on by a tickle monster!”

Eret nervously tried to squirm away, but their friend was quick to shoot his hands down, clawing at the monarch’s stomachs with both hands. They tried to keep their laughter hidden inside of them, but quickly broke after a few seconds.

“Fohohoolihish, nohoHOho!” They giggled, weakly trying to push his hands away.

“Eret, I’m serious, you should be more careful! Tickle monsters can be very dangerous!” Foolish playfully warned his friend, skittering fingers all over their torso. “They hide in plain sight, just waiting for you to be caught off guard, and then they pounce! And after they attack, their victims can get really tired out, and leave them to be more prone to being attacked by other monsters!”

He spidered his fingers up and down Eret’s sides, relishing in every bit of laughter that came out of their mouth. They tried pushing his hands away, but had no success, their arms likely tired out from pulling back strings and arrows all day. Foolish moved his fingers up his friend’s body, dancing over their hips now.

“They’re extremely dangerous, my friend. They have a variety of strategies that they use, and no singular monster is alike any other. So if you get attacked by one, it’s attack will be very different from the second one you encounter!” Foolish squeezed at their hips, watching as Eret wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore, only laughing their head off.

“Eret! I’m trying to warn you and be serious, why are you laughing at me?! This is no laughing matter, old pal!” He shook his head, moving his hands up to scratch and scribble up and down their ribcage. Eret’s laughter quickly escalated in pitch, squirming around and weakly trying to fight Foolish off.

“NoHOHO- FOHOHOOLIHISH! YOHOU- YOHOU’RE-” The monarch attempted to talk back, but was interrupted by frequent squeaks and laughter flowing out of their mouth.

“I don’t get what’s so funny, Eret! This is very serious!” Foolish tried to stay straight-faced, but couldn’t help but smile when he saw his friend’s face. Eret’s sunglasses were starting to tilt off of their face, their hair was disheveled from so much thrashing, and a stupidly wide grin graced their face as high-pitched giggles came from their mouth.

“You still hanging in there?” Foolish asked as he slowed down the movements of his fingers to a stop. Eret nodded, still giggling as they adjusted their glasses and put them back properly on their face. The demigod reached out a hand, helping Eret off of the ground.

“Gotta be more careful next time, old pal! You never know when a monster might attack.”

“Oh, shut up.” Eret shoved his friend lightly. The two friends looked at each other, smiles on their faces as happy laughter filled the fields.

[localwebslingers]

The copy of the schematic was taken, Peter looking over it and reaching for a pen to make his own notes on it along with Harry's. Ones he would need while building it, the kinds of things he'd want to check on and run diagnostics on as he went. Mini checks along the way before a final one once the whole thing was put together, "I like the sound of that." he said as he scribbled a few things down. If Harry already had some ideas of good materials they could use for this, then that was a further step in a great direction for them.

Progress towards what they wanted, even if it didn't work perfectly the first test.

He paused his own notes to look at Harry with the question before shaking his head, "No, not that I've come across yet. I think we're in the clear on that." he said, waiting to see some of the options that could be listed out. Some of them seemed like it might take a bit of creativity to pull off in the lab compared to others. At least for the lab they were using, but not impossible to manage either. At least as far as Peter could figure. More and more, he was feeling confident about this.

The schematic was looked over more closely, running options through his own head. Designing, redesigning, and modifying equipment on the fly was nothing he was unfamiliar with. That was, after all, a good portion of how Spider-Man worked. Every bit of tech he'd had to build up from scratch, modify, improve on, and use as a jumping off point for something else. Here he had a working blueprint, and was getting an idea of the materials that would be needed. Slightly smoother start, now got to the "fun" part. Actually building it.

Peter ran over the design with Harry, what materials would be best for the internal parts and the outer casing. Taking heavy consideration for what Harry thought. Since he was picking the materials to be used, Peter was ultimately comfortable defaulting to his judgement with what would work best. It was encouraging that they agreed on it. Still, he went slow, wanting to make sure they covered and considered as much as possible.

At some point, his shoulder had stopped bothering him.

He ended up having to grab his own notebook for extra notes and details before grinning, "Alright, I think I've got what I need to be able to get this together. Might have to borrow a few tools from another lab room, but I can definitely get this set up in here." and make sure it was tucked away to not be messed with by anyone.

Simple, little things, but those were the things Harry had grown fond of, over the years. Friendly company and little reasons to spend time together, because parties and luxuries were all fine and well, but talking over coffee or pizza was nothing to scoff at, nor was comparing the little things of the multiverse.

Harry had made a friend, after crashing into his life because the connection to another friend was a chance at finding trusted help, and he'd been right. And while he was more than willing to use and discard people who would do the same to him, Harry had always been far kinder with those he cared about.

Moreover, it was hard not to be on a good mood: they were making clear, tangible progress. And while he wanted to keep his expectations low, because they might still be days or weeks away from a test, much less a solution... they'd gotten so far already.

And so he met Peter's smile, as he agreed to work on the casing, with one of his own.

"Leave the materials to me." He agreed, and there was excitement and daring both in his tone and his gaze, already finishing up the copy and handing it to Peter, after checking it twice just in case. "I have a handful of ideas already."

And he'd run them by Peter once he was done with them, because it was always safer to check and double check matters this delicate, but theirs had become a surprisingly comfortable rhythm.

"You're not allergic to any metals, are you?" He asked, however, to make sure.

And then he began to work on their options. On what they could get done in a lab, because he'd already workshopped materials for the Goblin armor and its improvements more than once. This was, once more, familiar territory.

[sageinacage]

Pog :0 Based around the stream where they did a pvp - Boomer getting tired of losing so he wrecks Punz in hopes of getting a second win?

I hope that you’re doing well and have a great day/night!

Endurance Training summary: boomer wants to knock his cocky friend punz down a peg during their pvp training. a/n: i hope its okay i kinda derailed from the original prompt D: its still them and still in a similar setting but its just boomer being a cocky ass instead LOL warnings: swearing, lighthearted mocking (?), describing a fight in minecraft kinda LOL w/c: 1.4k IG, Platonic

~

“Haaa, I’m so good at this.” Punz stretched his arms over his head after yet another victory, shooting a shit-eating grin at his friend. “Isn’t that right, Boomer?”

Boomer fixed his frog hat, and let out an annoyed huff as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re just lucky, dumbass.” He spat back, grumbling something snarky to himself as he straightened out the light training armor equipped on him.

“I don’t think there’s anything lucky going on with you falling on your ass. Multiple times.”

“That’s because you tripped me, you asshole!”

“Oh, boohoo.”

Boomer opened his mouth to say something sassy back at his friend, but decided not to as Punz is definitely someone who could match his level of wits and he knew that. Instead, he let out an exaggerated groan and picked up his training sword, standing on the opposite side of the arena from Punz.

“Ready for round… uh… three? four? Definitely a number.” Punz rubbed the back of his head as he let out a few chuckles, composing himself after a few seconds and holding his sword and shield steadily. “Born ready, baby!” Boomer tried to jest, his goal being to distract Punz in any way he could.

Punz gave the man in the frog hat a confused eyebrow raise, rolling his eyes and beginning to approach him. “Punz, you do not want to come over here!” Boomer sang in a slightly worried tone, backing up and nervously skipping to the side. “Oh, but I really do, Boomer! C’mon, don’t be shy!” Punz sneered, his speed picking up a bit as Boomer let out a high-pitched giggle and ran off.

The man chuckled as his friend’s nervous giggles, shaking his head before equipping the fishing rod from his inventory, reeling Boomer in by the hood of his hoodie. “No!” He screeched, unhooking himself and skipping away again. “You slippery frog!” Punz exclaimed, continuing the chase.

The round ended like normal, some half-assed fight from Boomer then getting absolutely whooped after. “Boomer, c’mon! You gotta try harder than that!” Punz urged, trying to pull the sulking man up from the ground.

“Hm.” He hummed, his whole body going limp as his friend tried to lift him off the ground. “Don’t be a baby, bud.” Punz laughed, eventually just gently dropping him back down. “Am I just too good that you don’t wanna try again?” He chuckled, a smirk painting his features.

“No, I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How to knock you down a peg or two- then I’d put the effort into fighting you.” Boomer grinned widely, a grin that Punz definitely did not trust. “How would you be able to knock me down if you won’t even fight me for real?” He crossed his arms, slightly tilting his head.

Boomer stood up, making the blonde take a small step back.

“I don’t like that look you’re giving me-”

“I remember a little something about you, Punz.”

“Boomer…”

“I remember you had a little… weakness… yeah. A weakness.” Boomer chuckled lowly, taking a step towards Punz. Punz squinted his eyes, trying to seem intimidating but took another step back as the white-haired man took another one forward.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Punz rolled his eyes, putting a hand on his hip. “I think you do, Punz! It’s probably why you’re blushing right now.”

“I am n- not! My cheeks are red out of anger. Yeah, that’s why.” He looked down, avoiding eye contact with the other. “Yeah? Out of anger, Punz? Totally not because you know I’m about to tickle you, and you can’t do anything about it. Y’know, how about we look at this like endurance training- you did originally ask me to train with you to improve, yeah?” Boomer continued as he kept slowly walking at Punz, until he got close to him.

“I’m- I’m n- not… ticklish?”

“Sure you aren’t, pal.” Boomer sneered before tackling his friend onto the grass, rolling around as he wrestled with him to get the upper hand. Eventually, the ‘CEO of Bedwars’ got the blonde pinned under him, but not after a good wrestle.

“Gotcha.” Boomer spoke low in Punz’s ear, before using his free hand to claw into his ribcage. “Sh- Shihit- Boohohomer!” He tried to hold back his giggles, shaking his head as the immediate sensation wracking his ribcage already tickled like hell.

“What’s up? I’m all ears!” Boomer laughed, deciding to pin Punz’s hands beneath his knees so he can use both of his hands. After he managed to pin them there, he wiggled his fingers at his friend. “Now, where should I go next? Your tummy is just right here, so cute and begging to be tickled… but I think I’m gonna go riiiight here…” Boomer gave a devilish grin before kneading his thumbs in circles into his upper waist.

Punz shrieked, arching his back forward. “YohoHOU- *snort* SUHUHUCK! STOHOP IT!” Punz cackled, trying to twist side to side to get rid of the sensations, but the damn feeling just won’t leave and it was causing ticklish shocks to spread across his whole torso.

“N’awww, Punz! I know you’re easily strong enough to escape. You really just wanna be tickled to tears, huh? Tickled so much that you won’t be able to lift a finger against me. Yeah? Is that what you want, Punzie?” Boomer teased, not letting up on those wonderful horrible ticklish circles on his lower ribs.

Covering his face, Punz dug his heels into the ground behind him to try to relieve some of the sensations, but Boomer was just so persistent. “SOHOMEWHEHERE ElSE! P- PLEHEHEASE!” He squealed as his friend’s hands immediately went to squeeze his hips, then to back up to sit on Punz’s knees, immediately scribbling his nails into his thighs.

“NONONO- NOHAHAHAHA-” Punz immediately retaliated, his legs being extremely ticklish. Boomer let out an evil laugh at this new discovery, repeatedly squeezing that spot right above his kneecaps which earned the most high-pitched giggles from the blonde. “No? Not here? Hmmm… I think I like it here, though!” Boomer announced, before scooting back up.

Punz breathed heavily, weakly pulling at his hands- but they remained stuck under Boomer’s knees. “You done?” Boomer asked, his voice expressing more concern than anything. Punz, always wanting a challenge, just smirked. “Never.” He continued to smile, but his eyes grew wide as Boomer slowly started to pull up his white hoodie.

“Ooh, look what we have here! An adorable tummy, just waiting to be tickled by yours truly. You ready, Punz? Are you ready for the tickles since you’re enjoying this soooo much?” Boomer didn’t give him time to answer as he immediately began to flutter his fingertips over his exposed stomach.

“COHOLD HAHANDS- BOOHOHOMER Y- YOU AHASS!” Punz squealed, throwing his head back as one of his worst spots was targeted. “N’awww, you have such a ticklish tummy! That’s so sweet, Punz. I wonder though… ah- ignore me, I’m just going on a ramble.” Boomer spoke to him like he wasn’t destroying him under his fingertips.

The fluttering fingers turned into raking nails, the feeling it provided tickling like hell. Boomer was still curious, though. ‘Do raspberries actually tickle? Would that be a good idea?’ He thought, his fingers not stopping his attack on Punz’s stomach.

Well, here goes nothing.

“PFFT- PLEHEHAHAHAHA- BOOHOHOMER NOHOHO!” Punz went completely limp as a raspberry was planted right on the pudge of his stomach, the feeling strange but extremely ticklish. He let out another screech as more raspberries were placed, followed by nibbles trailing up his sides and ribs as Boomer’s fingers continued to dance along his belly.

“This is so priceless, holy shit!” Boomer eventually sat up, fondly laughing at the dazed look on Punz’s face. “ALRIHIHIGHT!” Punz exclaimed, playfully shoving Boomer off of him and curling up on the grass. “There you go, you managed to escape!” Boomer joked, standing up and towering over his friend.

“That was fun, don’tcha think, Punzie?” Boomer teased, earning an ‘angry’ growl from the other. “Revehenge will be fuhun…” Punz mumbled through his after-giggles, glaring up at Boomer.

“Sure it will, giggles.”

“Shuhut up, will you?!”

[mythicamagic]

Please write the second-to-last prompt!

*cough* I’ll put this one under a ‘read more’ because it’s a tad too long. And involves nakedness- and we all know how tumblr feels about that. M rated with no actual naughty business.

“it’s because i’m so attractive isn’t it?” “i say this. and i cannot stress this enough. i find you completely repulsive.” 

---

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, torn between amusement, befuddlement, indignation, flattery and satisfaction. 

It was a confusing mix. 

Kagome stared up at him, cheeks stained crimson and hands planted on her hips. It was not the appropriate expression for one asking another for a favour. 

Thin lips parted, before his mouth clicked shut. He blinked once, tipping his head to the side. 

“You wish to…”

“Draw you,” she confirmed stiffly. 

“Naked.”

“It’s called ‘Life Drawing’ and I need it for my college class. You’d...really be helping me out, okay?”

Sesshoumaru hummed, gaze sweeping over her critically. He’d never seen one of her pictures, and wondered if her skills could do him justice. “And you chose this one to be your subject?” he arched a brow, confidence radiating off him in waves. “It is because I am so attractive, is it not?”

Kagome made a noise, bursting into a laugh and waving this off. “I say this, and I cannot stress this enough; I find you completely repulsive.” 

The teasing dance of her eyes told him she was joking. He huffed, finding the mere idea ludicious. None could find him repulsive. 

“Look the reason I’m asking you is because it would be awkward with anyone else. I’m not dating anyone- and Inuyasha is out on account of him being my ex. Miroku is married. You’re the only available person who is kinda, sorta my friend. My last resort is asking a random villager if they’ll strip for me,” she sighed. “I’ve sat in on classes, I’ve tried using books for reference poses- but nothing works! My teacher always says they come off as stiff looking and the uh...the…”

Sesshoumaru watched her steadily turn redder, unblinking.

Kagome glanced around the empty hillside with paranoia, whispering the next part; “the penis…” she blushed, seeming to die inside, “always looks...uh...inaccurate, apparently.”

Mirth coloured his blank, guarded expression. He glanced at her waiting bag beside the tree. “Show me.”

“What?! No! No one will ever see those sketches! Ever! I’m gonna burn them!”

The Daiyoukai glanced away, arranging his features into something haughty and disinterested. “Then you will not sketch my body.”

Kagome gaped, groaning and burying her crimson face in her hands. “Urgh!” 

To be fair to her skills; the men in her sketches held fairly accurate physiques. Nice bone structure; and a softness about their faces and dark shading that portrayed a moody tone, longing for something he couldn’t name. She’d even captured hands and feet remarkably well, something he knew most artists struggled with. 

But then, inevitably, golden eyes strayed downward from their torsos. 

“A-are they bad?” Kagome peered over his shoulder as Sesshoumaru sat, perusing her sketchbook. 

He closed the book with a sharp noise of finality. “This is grave indeed.”

“I knew it,” she whined, wallowing in sadness. 

Sesshoumaru’s nose twitched as he stood, passing the sketchbook back to her. “...You may capture my likeness.”

Her breath hitched, and relief immediately swamped her features. “I- thank you,” Kagome breathed, easing closer to him. “Thank you so much!”

“Hn,” inwardly preening and thinking that all beings should thank him for the generous sight of his naked form, Sesshoumaru set the date for their ‘meeting,’ inviting her to the Western Stronghold in two days' time. 

---

They greeted each other easily enough on the actual day, Kagome being let into his private chambers with many a raised brow from his servants. 

Sesshoumaru slid the door shut to conceal their ‘activity’ away from prying eyes, though he had no shame in his bare form. Merely, he sensed the miko’s nervousness and did not wish her concentration to be broken. 

After stripping easily enough, shedding the finery of his clothes, Sesshoumaru stopped before her seated position at a respectable distance. 

“Where do you want me?”

Kagome made a strangled noise, having looked up from her sketchbook. Blue eyes immediately locked onto the area between his thighs. 

“Uh-! I um-” she stammered, attention flitting around the room like she were following a game of ping pong. “Standing is fine!” Kagome squeaked, turning scarlet as she motioned with her hand, “m-maybe just b-backup a little.”

Nodding primly, Sesshoumaru concealed his smirk, stepping away and waiting as her embarrassment slowly abated. Her bright gaze running over lithe, pale muscles couldn’t quite hide her curiosity; her hunger. Kagome pursed full lips and sketched a standing pose, before instructing him to instead sit down upon his bed of furs and busy himself with something. Sesshoumaru decided to read. 

Keen, pointed ears caught every glide and sharp drag of lead on paper- every indrawn breath and hiss through clenched teeth.

After a little while, she sighed. 

“You keep avoiding it,” Sesshoumaru hazarded a guess. 

“I totally do,” Kagome groaned, staring miserably at the sketches, “right now you’re sexless. There’s a blank space where genitals are supposed to go.” 

Golden eyes flitted up to her. “You are too tense. Come here.”

“W-what?”

“The bed is comfortable,” he clarified, tone becoming flat and business-like as he minded some silver hair back over one broad shoulder. “I refuse to be drawn inaccurately.”

Nodding, she swallowed and gathered her things, awkwardly padding over. A plume of repressed desire followed her like a cloud of smog. Clearly she was trying to remain professional and judging by the guilt mingling with it; felt ashamed by any natural reaction to his person. 

Naked bodies were not inherently sexual things. They were just...bodies. But he felt no annoyance with Kagome for her attraction. Quite the contrary. She’d been acting like this for months with a cycle of repression. This ‘study’ had been a golden opportunity. 

Kagome sat before him and took a long breath, forcing herself to look at his lap. 

His cock twitched. 

Making a thin noise, she blushed and directed her gaze firmly to the paper, scribbling away furiously. 

Sesshoumaru’s fangs caressed his bottom lip in a sensual brush, sighing. A spike of his own arousal had more obvious effects on his person. He couldn’t conceal it like her- and Kagome’s intense attention only had him hardening quicker. 

“Ah-” Kagome gaped, losing her voice. She cleared her throat, staring. Unbidden, she wet her lips, blue eyes flitting up to meet dark, golden hues steadily dyeing passionate red. “We- we can stop...until it goes back to normal?” she suggested thinly.

“Did you not require extensive research on this particular part of me, miko?” he purred silkily. “Perhaps sketching it in various states would be to your advantage.”

“I-I guess that’s true,” Kagome swallowed, shyly glancing at it and then meeting his gaze again. “Maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“I could…”

Sesshoumaru leaned closer, the cool air feeling too keen on his heated skin. Her breathy voice made goosebumps rise over pale flesh. “Yes?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Kagome looked at him again, silently seeking consent. Barely imagining it was possible he could reciprocate. But she did not know; had not come to learn the patience that wild, predatory beasts possessed. He’d bided his time so long his waiting looked like indifference on the outside.

Taking a short, quick drawn breath, Kagome bridged the distance between them. She learned the full scope of Sesshoumaru’s anatomy intimately well that night- and continued her studies for many nights after.

---

The feedback Kagome gained back from her life drawing was ‘good use of shading and muscle definition, an impressive level of detail. Improvement on discussed anatomy - but a tad too unrealistic in size.’

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Return Home Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

The date begins in a conference room, where a meeting has been going on for almost three hours

When LFG invested in an online video platform called SE, LFG held a press release stating that it was a strategic move for the international film and TV market

However, just within two years, SE found itself racking up billions of dollars in debt due to its poor project management

As such, people in the know have been secretly ridiculing Victor for making an error of judgement

Fortunately, LFG’s connections with the media prevented this information from leaking out

But it doesn’t change the fact that LFG messed up this time

Victor hasn’t slept in two days - he’s been poring through documents, project materials, and would sometimes sit in the conference room alone for several hours, forgetting to eat :

When Victor returns to the hotel, there are over a hundred unread notifications on his phone. 

He doesn’t pay attention to such information, but taps on the only pinned message amid the countless lists of prompts.

Unsurprisingly, it’s filled with insignificant idle talk, coupled with several different emoticons.

Victor loosens his tie slightly, reading through the messages from top to bottom. 

“I made an improved version of omurice. Want to try it?”

“What is Goldman talking about in his Moments - something about being angry and tired. Is the meeting not going smoothly?”

“Remember to eat...”

“And remember to sleep!”

Victor’s finger pauses at this line, and there’s a gentle emotion flowing in his eyes.

“The internet celebrity lawyer you mentioned the other time agreed to my invitation for an interview, so I’ll be rushing out the proposal this Saturday. Want to be a supervisor?”

Victor opens the dialog box. Once he sends an “ok”, the other party immediately responds with an emoticon of a winking cat. 

Thinking of the time right now, he arches his brows slightly. 

-

Nestled in my quilt, I’m just about to embark on a long speech regarding the weekend’s schedule, but the phone in my hand suddenly vibrates, surprising me. 

Victor: Did you not sleep, or did you wake up?

MC: Haha...

Victor: What are you laughing at? 

MC: It feels like that is something I often ask you. Why is it now your turn to ask me?

Victor: It’s only 5am now. 

MC: I didn’t get a reply from you, so I couldn’t sleep...

I turn over, changing to a more comfortable position against the corner of the quilt. I press the phone tightly to my ear. 

MC: What project are you busy with this time? Is it going smoothly? 

Victor: Smoothly. It’s still early, you can sleep for a while longer.

MC: ...I can’t really sleep now. Are you still coming back on Thursday as you said last time? 

Victor: Before Saturday. 

MC: It’s only Tuesday today... and the sun hasn’t come out yet. 

I hear Victor laugh, his low tone mixed with some tiredness.

Victor: You find it too late? 

MC: I wouldn’t dare to. If it weren’t something important, you wouldn’t delay returning. However... even if it’s because of work, you did go back on your word, so you have to promise me one thing. 

A deep and slow sigh enters my ear, revealing a faint sense of fatigue.

Victor: You can say it. 

MC: You have to eat, and you have to sleep.

The other end of the phone call grows silent for a few seconds. 

Victor: Mm, I promise you.

The misty morning light is on the curtains. In the midst of my quiet grogginess, I close my eyes, wanting to feel the frequency of his breaths. 

MC: ...it has been raining continuously in Paris these two days. 

Victor: It’s like that during this season. 

MC: Is... is it very cold...

Victor: No, it isn’t. 

My consciousness grows increasingly darker, but I can still clearly capture his voice in my bizarre dream world. 

Victor: [in the gentlest of gentle voices] Sleep if you’re tired. I’m hanging up. 

MC: N-not tired... don’t hang up...

Victor: You can’t even speak clearly, and you’re still unwilling to sleep?

MC: ...

I just need five more seconds to be clear-headed--

I let out a sound of agreement, unsure if I managed to say this aloud.

Very soon, only Victor’s long and steady breaths at my ear remain in my world. It’s very, very close. It’s a closeness that gives one a peace of mind. 

Victor: Are you asleep?

MC: ...

Victor: Sleep then.

Victor: ...

Victor: Sleep peacefully. 

-

On Saturday afternoon, I lift my head towards the wall clock for the nth time. When the needle points to the number ‘3′, I can no longer help myself, and give Victor a call. 

After the dial tone, the notification that the other party is unable to answer the call sounds. Before I can react, the doorbell rings. 

Victor is standing at the door and just about to put his phone back into his pocket. In a daze, I look towards at his empty hands. 

MC: Your luggage...

Victor: Goldman took them back. I still have to return to LFG tonight. 

As he speaks, he enters and changes his shoes in the hallway. After that, he walks straight into my bedroom.

Victor: What have you been doing these two days? 

He walks to the coffee table, picking up the messy outline I was working on for an interview. He takes a glance and then lifts the corners of his lips. 

Victor: You said you were working seriously for several days, but you just did a few outlines? 

MC: Don’t underestimate me! I’ve looked through quite a number of materials. Look!

I point at the stack of trending societal topics and legal-related books on the floor. 

MC: Preparatory work speeds up the actual process. Also, didn’t I recognise my inadequacies and ask you to be a supervisor? 

I hurriedly drag a chair to the coffee table and place a headrest on the back of it. 

MC: Please sit. I guarantee that from this second onwards, I’ll concentrate on the proposal. Before the sun sets, I’ll definitely have the first edition out. 

Victor can’t help but laugh. He hangs his coat on the clothes rack in the corner, then pulls the chair over to himself. After sitting down, he seems to recall something and lets out a faint sigh. 

Victor: Lend me your laptop for a while.

I hand him my notebook computer, and a thought flashes across my mind -- how could he not have brought a laptop out?

MC: Victor, when did you get infected by my scatterbrained habits? 

Victor: Only this time. I forgot to take it with me after leaving it in the backseat.

Victor avoids my teasing gaze. With his expression unchanged, he starts approving documents on the LFG intranet. 

Victor: The sun is setting in two hours. 

MC: Who knows - maybe the sun wouldn’t feel like going home today. 

I return to my seat, resting my chin on my palm while looking towards Victor. 

The light golden sunlight streams in from the window, slowly enveloping Victor. The quiet, warm rays of light are coupled with a calming woody scent, and are very pleasant. 

Victor doesn’t speak. His fingers tap against the desk from time to time. In this quiet room, the sound of our breathing is amplified.

After an inordinate amount of time, he finally lifts his eyes and meets mine.

Victor: Staring at me can help you finish your proposal?

MC: I’m not staring at you. I’m silently conceptualising ideas.

After my words are out, a short “ding” sounds.

MC: Wait for a moment~ 

In a flash, I rush to the kitchen and retrieve the aromatic cookies from the oven. After carefully placing them on a cooling rack, I bring it back to the room along with two cups of warm drinks. 

MC: Afternoon tea time!

Victor casts a glance at the cups and arches his brows slightly. Steam floats from the hot cup of milk, and strands of warmth merge with the sweetness in the house.

MC: Your dark circles are so deep, so don’t drink coffee, all right?  

Victor: I’m fine. 

I thought Victor meant that he wouldn’t drink this, but he holds up the cup after speaking. 

Once I sit down, I push the plate filled with cookies towards him. 

MC: Look at my new mold - isn’t it cute?

I point at the cookies, which are shaped like cats with different expressions on them. 

MC: This one is yawning, this one is full of grievances, this one has already fallen asleep, but I like this one the most. It keeps having an angry face. I called it “Qi Gu Gu”.

[Note: Names don’t translate well into English, so I left it as it is. The original name is 气鼓鼓, which means “seething”]

Victor’s eyes sweep towards my fingers. 

Victor: Looks like you. 

MC: Is that so?

I puff my cheeks, mimicking the cat on the cookie and squinting my eyes to look at Victor. 

As predicted, Victor ignores me. There is a measure of speechlessness in his eyes.

I laugh and bring “Qi Gu Gu” to his lips. 

MC: Give it a try? 

Victor takes a bite straight from my hand, then returns his gaze to the laptop. 

MC: Aren’t you going to evaluate it? 

He purses his lips slightly, and I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not. He leans forward a little, then finishes the remaining half of “Qi Gu Gu” in my hand. 

His warm lips brush against my fingertips, leaving behind a soft, lingering warmth. A fluffy, light, and sweet sense of happiness stirs up slowly in my heart. 

Contented, I sweep the crumbs off my hands and take up my pen again. 

Soon after, MC’s mind starts wandering to how fine the weather is

And how fine her man is 👀

He doesn’t show much emotion while working, and his expression looks as calm as always. But the deep look of concentration between his eyebrows is a little different from usual.

As for what exactly is different...

It’s probably how one just can’t look away.

Victor: It’s only been a few minutes. How many times have you lost focus? 

I hurriedly retract my gaze, pretending to be scribbling on the paper like an “obedient” student who got caught doing something improper by a teacher.

But my ideas have not been completely formulated, and I can’t think of anything to write. The only thing I can do is draw a small heart at the top right-hand corner of the paper. 

Sensing Victor’s lingering gaze on me, I continue scribbling until it becomes a solid heart, then attach a tilde at the end.

After pausing for a moment, I let out a soft sigh and lift my head slightly. 

Victor: Why are you sighing.

MC: ...I can’t help it.

Victor: Can’t help what? 

MC: Can’t help looking at you. 

I cross my arms together, changing to a more comfortable position and plopping onto the table. I tilt my head towards Victor. 

He lets out a barely audible laugh. Just as he’s about to speak, a familiar ringtone sounds from his pocket. 

Watching Victor pick up the call, my messy thoughts instantly vanish, and I feel slightly downcast.

Victor: The time now is...

While speaking, Victor looks at the bottom right corner of the laptop. After a slight pause, he looks at the phone. 

Victor: 4.30pm. Have them give me a reply by 8pm. 

His words are concise. After he hangs up, I ask him a little hesitantly. 

MC: Do you... have to go back to LFG now? 

Victor: I'm not leaving. 

While saying this, he sets his phone on silent mode and places it at the corner of the table. Meeting my hesitant gaze, there’s a sense of resignation in his calm eyes.

Victor: Your laptop is set to Paris’ timezone. 

I fail to understand the implication behind his words, so I just nod subconsciously. 

MC: Mm, it’s easier to tell the time like that. 

Victor doesn’t speak. He sweeps another glance at the laptop. At this moment, the system sends a report of the weather forecast in Paris over the next five days - there will be continuous rain every day.

He smiles faintly, then closes the laptop slowly.

Victor: ...you’re really becoming more and more dumb.

MC: ...yes yes yes, taking care of a dummy like me is really a bother for Mr CEO. 

I deliberately pout, but can’t help but smile along with Victor. I stand up and retrieve our two empty cups.

MC: I'll go wash the cups. Is there anything you want to eat?

Victor: No need. Are you treating me as you? 

I let out an indignant “hmph”, then turn around and head to the kitchen. 

I originally thought it would only take a few minutes to wash the two cups. But by the time I cleaned and tidied up the tools I used for baking earlier, half an hour has passed. 

When I return to the room, Victor is lying on the bed, my incomplete outline in his hand.

I soften my footsteps and walk over, leaning close to his ear and whispering:

MC: Victor, are you asleep? 

Victor doesn’t respond, but has a shallow intake of breath, his eyelashes quivering gently under the twilight. 

MC: Are you really sleeping or just pretending to sleep? 

Very lightly, I climb onto the bed, inching towards him.

MC: Victor? 

I call his name again softly, but he still does not respond. But the corners of his lips curl up slowly, revealing a smile.  

MC: You aren’t asleep, are you.

I lean one hand on the bed, and use my other hand to lift up a few strands of his hair. 

Looking at his smooth and sharp jawline, my fingertips unconsciously rub the tips of his hair. 

MC: ...have you been very tired recently?

Victor: No.

His words carry with them a certain sleepiness - perhaps he hasn’t had rest in a few days, so he gets drowsy once he relaxes just a little. 

MC: Didn’t you already look at my interview outline? Why are you looking at it again? 

Victor: To see what exactly you were scribbling. 

I think about that heart with its little tail, and am left speechless, as though I got caught having a bad idea. 

Victor: You specially got me here to supervise you, but you only wrote these few sentences the whole afternoon? 

MC: Yeah. Next time, I won’t ask you to be a supervisor! When you’re in front of me, my work efficiency takes a nose-dive. 

I reach out to take my notebook from his hand, then cover him with a blanket. Victor turns his head, his half-closed eyes meeting mine. 

It’s very rare for me to see such a burnt-out look in his eyes. Right now, I can only feel the emotions in my heart towards this person becoming a hundred times more tender. 

MC: Sleep for a while before going to LFG? I’ll wake you up at 7.30pm.

With the rigour of Victor’s schedule, several important meetings were cancelled at short notice so he could fly to Paris. After that, his return was delayed twice.

We already agreed that he’d return before Saturday, but it suddenly changed to Saturday itself...

This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t an extremely troublesome matter. 

...and he still stubbornly said that he wasn’t tired.

I place my forefingers on his temples, making slow circles. After a while, a soft laugh drifts from his lips. 

Victor: [releases a sigh which sounds like a moan lol]...

Victor takes my right hand and encloses it in his palm, wordlessly pulling me closer to him. 

With this distance, every one of his breaths mingle with mine. I can’t help but bend down, pressing the corner of my lips to his fringe.

In the quiet darkness, I hear the frequency of our heartbeats and breathing mingling and becoming more and more synchronised.

Victor: ...there’s no need to worry about me. I haven’t reached the point where a dummy has to worry about me.

MC: Mm, I got it. 

I respond softly, but can’t hide the touch of peace in my smile. 

MC: ...I just can’t help it.

Can’t help but worry if you’re hungry or not, whether you're cold or not, whether you’re tired or not. 

Can’t help but want to see you, whether you’re in front of me or not.

Can’t help but reveal the smile in my brows and lips just because you surface in my mind. 

I look out the window - the clouds spread across the dim twilight and the stars are looming. The golden sunset and the quietness of the night meet at the end of the sky. 

The sun is about to set.

MC: Victor, I didn’t finish the interview outline before the sun set. Are you going to punish me? 

Victor: ...

The only response I get is the sound of his steady and peaceful breathing. 

I lower my head and look at his sleeping face. This familiar side profile has gotten slightly thinner over the span of just a few days. I reach out, stroking his cheek in mid-air.

Afraid to disturb him, I silently watch him.

MC: Sleep then.

MC: ...

MC: Sleep peacefully. 

[amesstm]

Nice Receive!

WC: ~2K

A/N: So... I couldn’t figure out Social Dummy, because I am a dummy :D And since no one told me if they wanted an actual schedule or not, we will now work around my work hours which is a lot because my gm is evil :)

~series masterlist~

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

The weekend passed quickly with much needed rest being earned. Yet, there was that voice in the back of your mind urging you to do some form of exercising. After all, this was your last year in high school and the last time you could go to nationals.  

In fact, your volleyball team had been mourning the loss of their libero loudly in the group chat. Everyone joked that they would have to take down the 189.5cm man somehow. It seems that you had an army now, with your cousin Yu as its commanding general.  

For now, that wasn’t your concern because all you could think about was the upcoming exams. Yuki was studying more often with her boyfriend, which meant that you had the dorm room to yourself. Even Yuki was putting her studies before her volleyball practices because she skipped the one yesterday. So here you were with your text books and notes all laid out before you as if the words would jump off of the page and into your brain.

But after an hour of trying to focus on what was literally right in front of you, you gave up from the sensory overload. You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, hoping that the bed would swallow you. You closed your eyes and breathed slowly to prompt your muscles to relax. Perhaps you should start meditating.  

A soft knock interrupted your thoughts, immediately causing the irritation to return. But you opened the door and saw it was your whole volleyball team. Of course, the coach wasn’t there, but the manager looked like she led the brigade to your room.  

Your manager Tamako bowed with a smile, “We come in peace.”

She held up a pompompurin kotatsu plushie and you quickly forgot about your past irritation. You waddled towards her and clutched the plushie in your arms. “I accept your peace offering.”

The volleyball team cramped into your small room. The first-year opposite hitter Hana leaned in with wide curious eyes like that of a newborn baby, “Is it true that you and Ushijima-san like each other?”

Hana’s adoptive-mother, second year setter Karin shushed her, “They don’t know it yet!”

Hana poured and whined, “But it’s so obvious!”

You tilted your head and blinked, “What do you mean?”

Captain Hoshimi, the mountainous middle blocker, sighed, “You two are so oblivious.”

“Anyways,” Tamako cleared her throat, “Yuki says that she knows you’re dying to be on the court again. Obviously you can’t but you can watch!”

A part of you felt bad, knowing that Yuki was worried about you this whole time. You were about to open your mouth but she added, “Hoshimi has noise-canceling headphones.”

“Oh, okay that should work!” You grinned and sprung with life.  

Finally, you were able to be in the gym again. It wasn’t a formal practice, so everyone was just playing together. Unfortunately, you still had to sit on the bench. Of course, you were used to it since you were the liberal and weren’t always on the court; but every time the ball hit the floor, you couldn’t help but think that you could’ve gotten it.  

You watched Hoshimi block Hana with great speed and height. Although Hana had immense talent for her age, she needed much refining. You were sure that Tamako’s fast scribbling was notating all of this down even if she was off-duty.  

Still, you couldn’t hear what was going on. Everything you absorbed was purely on seeing the ball fly or land and feeling the vibrations of the ball landing or being smacked. So, you also didn’t hear someone approaching you and calling out your name. 

A light tap on your shoulder finally caught your attention. You whipped your head to see Ushijima talking to you, but you only saw his lips moving. Although you couldn’t hear, you said, “I can’t hear you. These are sound-proof.”

He nodded and sat down next to you instead of trying to find a way of communicating. It’s not like you two could learn some form of sign language or Morse code in a few minutes.  

Yet, there was that comforting silence. Sure, you were always flustered around Ushijima but now? Now, you’re on a different playing field – or court for this scenario. The embarrassment and hesitation scattered away, and the confident and radiant personality Ushijima always heard of came to light.  

After Hoshimi’s team won the set, Hana came panting to see how you were doing. She also wanted to check on her ship but that’s besides the point. Karin wandered towards you three, like a mother hovering around her chick. You decided that it’d be safe to remove the headphones since there weren’t ball smacking across the court now. “You guys did really well!”

“Did I?” Hana asked, red from huffing. “I think I could do so much better.”

“Try opening up your shoulders to Karin more,” you said, making the young spiker tilt her head. “You limit your options when you close yourself off from your setter. You’re only a few centimeters taller than me, but you’re still considered short on the court. Opening yourself up should make a difference.”

Ushijima watched you, observing the way you speak like a coach. No, nothing like Coach Tanji. On the contrary, your advice was constructive and kind, but still precise. Your voice’s volume didn’t raise above speaking level, which was another big difference. In the short time that Ushijima was considered “short”, he had to learn how to spike in ways similar to how you would have to.  

Once you were done advising Hana on what to do, the next set began. Soon, Hana was scoring more points. With each one, she would smile at you with all the brightness of the sun. You would smile back and raise your thumbs up in pride.  

Tamako tapped on your shoulder and asked if you could follow her a bit towards the back. You whispered in Ushijima’s ear, “I’ll be right back.”

It took him a minute to process that you were just that close to him that he could feel your lips almost on his earlobe. After controlling his rush of emotions, he nodded. Ushijima wondered what you two were talking about. Maybe it had to do with Hana’s improvement or the earliest you could return to playing. Either way, Ushijima continued watching the girls play, waiting for you to return to his side.

Hana soon excelled quickly, getting in quick spikes that couldn’t be received soon enough to get back into play. They’d smack onto the floor and then fly away. As Hana got more and more in the game, her spikes became quicker but also more forceful. There was no doubt that Hana would become the ace of the girls team when she got even better.  

But then one of her balls went astray. Ushijima noticed that this ball had a certain angle to it as she hit it at a cross. Knowing where the ball would go next, Ushijima rushed off of the bench just as the ball was about to hit you. He managed to receive the ball in time.  

On the other hand, you were also prepared to come in contact with the ball as you placed yourself in position. Of course, you might’ve been scolded for playing before you were allowed to, but you were sure that you could handle it. But Ushijima got to it before you could.  

After his dig, the ball bounced back into court but no one went to catch it. He looked behind towards you, eyes wandering over your face to see if you were shaken. Yet you didn’t look fazed at all. Instead, you grinned, “Nice receive!”  

Now, you definitely noticed a change in Ushijima’s stance. His shoulders drooped in relief and his features softened. His eyes looked at you as if you were the only one he cared about.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hana asked, running towards you in worry. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she examined your state.  

You shook your head with a soft chuckle, “I’m fine, Hana. That was a really good spike!”

Hana crumbled underneath your compliments. Then, she turned towards Ushijima and bowed deeply from her hips. “Thank you for receiving the ball before it could hit her!”

Ushijima stated with seriousness etched into every centimeter on his face, “I won’t let another ball hit her ever again.”

To the team, it was practically a declaration of protecting you – which they swooned over. To you, it sounded like he didn’t want you playing. “But I’m the libero?”

With your confusion, the team sighed with dejection. Hoshimi groaned, “You’re so dumb.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You complained, eyes aimed towards Hoshimi.  

“We’ll tell you when you’re older,” Karin said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’m literally older than you,” you replied with a raised eyebrow.  

“And denser, too,” Karin jabbed back, earning a snicker from Hana who followed her mother’s behavior.  

You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore the duo. “Anyways, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You returned the headphones to Hoshimi and started to walk towards the exit. But you felt a presence behind you and saw Ushijima looking at you expectantly. “May I walk with you?”

“Of course,” you smiled.  

As you two walked, you were surprisingly calm. Perhaps that moment in the gym reminded you that the superstar of Japan was just another human being. Of course, he was someone with fans who would do anything to be with him and recruiters who would fight to have him on their team. But something about him seemed more human to you.  

Another thing that surprised you was that Ushijima was a slow walker. Perhaps you were always used to walking fast because you always rushed to catch up to your taller friends, but walking with Ushijima was a different pace. Now you could take the time to absorb the scenery around you.

When you approached a ledge that had a brilliant view of the sunset, you just looked at it in awe. Was the sunset always this beautiful? Japan was known as the Country of the Rising Sun. Then again, you wouldn’t be awake enough to enjoy the sunrise even if you were awake.  

But this sunset? You actually took the time to look at it. You didn’t walk past it like you would usually do because the sun would always set. But as the pinks and oranges cascaded from the sun to the rich purples and indigo of the night sky, you couldn’t just walk away. “Has it always been this beautiful?”

Ushijima noticed that you stopped to admire the sunset, so he stopped, too; but all he could look at was you. Something about the way the spring breeze brushed your hair away from your face so the golden hour could paint your features was captivating. “Always.”

You looked behind your shoulder to see that Ushijima got closer to you. “Haha, sorry. I didn’t realize that I had stopped.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ushijima said, opting to sit on a rock that laid along the side of the road. “Sit with me, we can watch it longer.”

You took the opportunity to sit on the rock closest to him. Again, with that comforting silence. There was no need to speak because you two could just enjoy each other’s company. Then Ushijima spoke, “Will you play volleyball professionally?”

Of course, you had contemplated it but it didn’t seem completely viable. Sure, you were among the top three liberos in the country. Yes, you would love to continue playing the sport that you’ve dedicated so much time to. But could you really do that? “I’m not sure, yet.”

Ushijima’s gaze left the sunset to look at you, so you returned his gaze. “It’d be a waste of talent not to.”

The breath you were intaking halted dramatically. “You’re right. It would be.”

“Will you at least play in university?” Ushijima asked, hopeful that you would at least continue then.  

“Absolutely,” you chuckled. “I don’t want to say goodbye to years of my life just yet.”

“You should play professionally,” Ushijima stated, his confidence in your ability making your heart flutter. For some reason, the sentence felt really familiar but you couldn’t remember why.  

Anyways, you didn’t know what to say. When you finally spoke, it was to say goodnight. Ushijima left you at your dorm room and with plenty to think about.  

When you finally collapsed onto your bed, you pulled out your phone. There was a notification from Hana. You opened your phone to see it was a picture of you and Ushijima watching the sunset. Underneath was a caption saying, “Nice receive ;)”

[aomine-ryo]

Can you do a scenario where the s/o has a really bad day and people from the school were bullying them and once they get home they break down for a while. Then the GoM (and kagami if you can) come to their house to give them cuddles and do whatever they can to take their mind off of everything that happened that day. (Srry if it’s really specific it happened to me recently and it sucked).

This kind of took some time to write, but I hope you feel okay now!! I hope you like this too :) x

Scenario: GOM + Kagami comforting their s/o who had a bad day

• Kuroko •

You weren’t exactly having the best of days. You had woken up late that morning and you looked like an absolute mess because you didn’t have time to get ready. You also accidentally left your homework that you were up all night doing on your desk at home, so you had to spend your recess in detention as a punishment. You didn’t have any classes with Kuroko that day and recess was the only time you would’ve gotten to spend time with him, so that just added onto your frustration.

There was this group of girls in your class who hated you for absolutely no reason than to boost their ego. Normally, you didn’t really mind whatever they said or did to you because you learned that all they wanted from you was a reaction. However, when you got back to class at the end of the day after speaking with one of your teachers and found your notes with important exam prep on it on your desk, completely covered in scribbles of insults and horrendous doodles, you couldn’t help but break down. You were absolutely exhausted that day and this was the last straw.

You quickly grabbed your things and rushed out of class, ignoring all the snickers and snide comments. You did your best to hold back your tears as you headed back home, stopping yourself from just completely losing it on the way by telling yourself that you can cry all you want at home without getting any judgemental stares. And that’s exactly what you did.

The moment you got through that front door, you let out all the wails and cries of frustration that had been building up throughout the day. You say on the floor by the door doing just this for a while before you eventually gathered yourself together and dragged yourself to your bedroom.

You pulled your notes out of your bag and tried to see if you could somehow salvage your work, but almost everything had been obscured by their awful work. You tried to redo those notes, but your experience that day had clouded your thoughts and you found yourself on the verge of tears yet again.

Just as you were about to go for round two of your breakdown, you heard the doorbell ring. Confused, you quickly rubbed your teary eyes and answered the door. Standing at your doorstep was Kuroko and Nigou, who let out a cheery bark upon seeing you which brought a small smile unto your face. “Hey, what are you guys doing here? Don’t you have practice?” you questioned, your voice sounding more strained than usual.

“Yes I did, but you didn’t come to visit and I got concerned. Also Furihata told me that you didn’t look too good in class today,” Kuroko explained as you let him and Nigou in.

“Sorry, I’m just not having a good day,” you sighed as the two of you took a seat on the couch.

You tried to explain what had happened, but you didn’t get very far as recalling the memories caused tears to stream down your face yet again. Kuroko pulled you into a hug almost instantly, holding you close and shushing you to calm you down.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to explain anymore. How about we do something to get your mind off of it?” Kuroko suggested softly as your tears began to stop.

“Like what?” You sniffled.

“Have you ever built a fort before?” He asked and you shook your head no. “Well, let’s do that. We can sit in it, relax and play some board games. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fun,” you said, a faint smile appearing on your face.

You and Kuroko spent about half an hour setting up a fort in your bedroom, using all the cushions, blankets and pillows you could find to make it as comfortable as possible. You drew the curtains shut and lit up the inside of your fort with fairy lights- it was truly magical. Once you were done, the two of you crawled inside excitedly, with Nigou following closely behind and making himself comfortable on your lap. Building the fort alone was able to make you slowly forget about your day, and after a few rounds of board games with Kuroko your mood had completely lifted.

“This was such a good idea. Thank you for coming to check up on me,” you smiled gratefully at your boyfriend.

“Of course. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Y/N-kun,” he smiled before placing a light kiss on your cheek.

• Kise •

Wednesdays weren’t your favourite days by a long shot. For starters, you had three periods of your least favourite subject and absolutely no free periods. On one particular Wednesday, you hadn’t gotten a good sleep the night before so you were extra exhausted during classes. It didn’t help that you had a headache that day too.

Of course, the bullies in your class didn’t help make the situation any better. They’d often pass snide remarks at you whenever the opportunity presented itself but you chose to ignore it, though each comment pushed you closer and closer to losing it.

The only good part of that school day was during recess, when you got to spend time with Kise, who managed to cheer you up slightly. However, your conversation kept getting interrupted by your bullies, who kept trying to pull Kise away from you, even though he didn’t seem even the slightest bit interested in them.

You thought you had managed to survive to the end of the day, but when you took your seat to pack your things, you felt your skirt get wet. You immediately stood up and realised that some girls in your class had poured a puddle of water onto your chair.

“Guys look, Y/N wet themselves,” one of your bullies pointed out, making everyone around them burst into a fit of snickers as your face began to heat up.

“I didn’t, there was water—“

“I can’t believe a loser like you is dating a model,” another snorted, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

You quickly grabbed your things and ran out of the class, not noticing Kise who was waiting for you by the doorway, witnessing the entire thing.

Kise shot them a glare, “You guys are so immature,” he scoffed at them before rushing after you.

Meanwhile, you were heading towards your house as quickly as you could, trying your best to contain yourself as well as avoid any eye contact with the passersby. You just wanted to get home, where no one could see you and your soaking wet skirt.

“Y/N-cchi!” you heard Kise call out from behind you, which only made you walk faster because you didn’t want him to see you like this. He easily caught up though. “Hey I saw what happened back there—“

“Please don’t talk about it,” you flinched immediately, tears now streaming down your face.

“Sure. You can tie my jacket around your waist if that helps,” he offered and you accepted, feeling a bit better about the situation now that no one could see your skirt.

“Thanks,” you sniffled as the two of you approached your house.

Kise waited for you in the living room while you went to have a shower and change into a fresh set of clothes. You weren’t crying anymore, you just felt numb, and Kise could sense that when you dragged yourself to the couch with a pitiful look on your face.

“Hey, why don’t we go out and get some icecream? My treat,” Kise suggested in attempts to get your mind off of things as you began to cuddle up next to him on the couch.

You lightly shook your head, “No thanks, I don’t feel like moving,” you mumbled.

“Alright, then what about a movie? We can watch your favourite!” he said, hoping the cheeriness in his tone would somehow improve things. And to some degree, it did, as a faint smile creeped across your face at the idea.

“That would be nice.”

So the two of you spent that afternoon cuddled up on the couch watching a movie of your choice. The smell of Kise’s cologne brought you comfort as you began to lose yourself in the plot of the movie. As his fingers began to mindlessly play with your hair, you felt your mood slowly get better, the way he held you close making you feel loved and cared for.

Kise had this habit of not being able to hold himself back from making commentary during movies and TV shows. It was one of the main reasons you didn’t take him to the cinema with you. However, his stupid questions and lame jokes definitely played a role in your mood improving that day as you found yourself in fits of giggles every now and again.

“You have the most adorable laugh, Y/N-cchi,” Kise pointed out halfway through the movie after hearing you laugh over one of his awful jokes.

“Your jokes are terrible but thanks for making me laugh— I needed that,” you said as you looked into his eyes gratefully.

“I’m glad you feel better, but my jokes can’t be terrible if they make you laugh that much,” Kise said with a smile, his fingers still playing around with your hair

“I’m laughing because they’re terrible.”

“So mean, Y/N-cchi,” Kise pouted, making you giggle.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” you said softly, the smile returning onto Kise’s face.

“I love you too.”

• Midorima •

You had been working tirelessly on schoolwork for the entire week that by the time Friday loomed around, you were absolutely exhausted. You weren’t able to have breakfast before you left the house that day so you were in a really bad mood. You kept telling yourself that you just had to make it to the end of the day, but it seemed so out of reach that you had began to slowly feel discouraged.

By the time the last lesson came around, you had fallen asleep at your desk, causing you to miss out on important notes during the lesson. The sound of the bell caused you to stir awake, and it took you a moment before you started to panic over the missed notes. Although your problems didn’t end there.

Everywhere you looked, your classmates kept staring at you and giggling. You didn’t look too much into it at first because you were far more concerned about your notes, however, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the window and suddenly your notes became the least of your worries. The words “I’m a loser” were written across your forehead in permanant marker.

“You look like an idiot, but at least you’re self-aware,” one of your bullies who was clearly behind it said to you, causing some people around them to snicker.

Normally, you would’ve snapped back at her with some clever comeback, but you were just so exhausted that the whole situation was utterly overwhelming. Between this and the fact that you had missed out on the lesson, you felt yourself on the verge of tears. Before you knew it, you were running out of the class as fast as you possibly could, desperate to escape the awful atmosphere where you were the object of ridicule.

As soon as you got home, you rushed into the bathroom, using all sorts of makeup removers, soaps and cleansers to get the marker off of your skin as tears of frustration streamed down your face. Eventually, you were able to get it off, though a faint trace of it still remained, making you feel pathetic and defeated.

You headed to your room, where you laid face-down on your bed, balling your eyes out into a pillow. You just wished this day had never happened.

You were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell, forcing you to wipe your tears away before you answered. It was your boyfriend, Midorima. “Oh, h-hi Shintaro,” you croaked, avoiding eye contact as you felt timid.

“Hey, you weren’t there when I came to your class after school. What happened?” he inquired, knowing not to ask if you were okay because wit was evident that you weren’t.

“I’m just not having a good day,” you muttered, “I don’t think I want to talk about it right now.”

“That’s okay. Is it alright if I hang out with you?” He asked, not willing to take ‘no’ for an answer as he didn’t plan on leaving your side until you felt better.

“Yeah,” you nodded, opening the door wider to let him in.

The two of you sat on the couch in the living room together and you were unusually silent, making Midorima feel pressured to do something to fill the silence and make you feel better. When nothing came to mind, he just pulled you into a tight hug because your face was practically screaming for one. You had been able to hold yourself back for some time, but the second his arms wrapped around you, the tears started flowing yet again.

Unsure of what to say in order to calm you down, Midorima just hugged you tighter and began to rub your back, feeling useless for not knowing any better way to help. “I’m not too sure about what happened, but I know that it’ll be okay,” he whispered to you. “I’ll be here for you.”

Hearing those words began to make you feel a little more at ease as you cried into his shoulder. He figured that his best bet was to distract you from your thoughts.

“Hey this might cheer you up,” Midorima said, perking up and reaching into his bag. He pulled out a slice of red velvet cake that was packed into a cute little plastic package. “Takao gave it to me, but I don’t really want it. Would you like to have it?”

You nodded, making Midorima feel a sense of triumph as he wiped the tears away from you cheek before getting up to grab a spoon from the kitchen. The cake was absolutely delicious, and you began to feel better and better with every bite. “Thanks. It tastes really good,” you said to him, your voice still a bit raspy.

“No worries, I’m glad you like it,” Midorima smiled.

Once you were done, you and Midorima remained cuddled up on the couch together. Now that you had finally gotten all the tears out of you, the exhaustion from earlier began to hit you. Nothing was more comfortable to you than being wrapped in Midorima’s arms, so you eventually ended up fast asleep on him. Midorima noticed that you had fallen asleep with a smile on your face and he couldn’t have felt more glad. He was happy to see you so at peace that he didn’t dare move a single muscle to disturb you. He swore that he would stay like this forever if it meant that you’d feel better.

• Aomine •

You had been in a lousy mood ever since you had woken up that morning. You ran out of milk so you couldn’t have your usual cereal for breakfast and you even managed to get caught in the rain on your way to school. By the end of the school day, you had become a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

To your dismay, your teacher had given you the duty to take the garbage out at the end of the day. You reluctantly followed instructions, telling yourself that the faster you got it done, the sooner you’d be able to go home and nap.

You were walking across the courtyard, heading towards the garbage disposal when you accidentally bumped shoulders with one of your bullies. “Oh sorry about that—”

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass,” they scowled before aggressively shoving you so that you’d fall onto the hard concrete. It had caught you offguard and one of the trash bags managed to rip open, which caused the trash to start spilling out. “Better clean that up, trash,” she sneered before walking away all high and mighty.

Just like that, you were ready to break down right then and there. You told yourself not to though, because you didn’t want to feel the judgemental stares of the other students on you. Fighting back tears, you quickly cleaned up the mess and threw the garbage away before washing your hands. You quickly grabbed your things and headed out of school as the tightness in your throat became harder and harder to ignore.

Eventually, you managed to get home, where you immediately broke down into a fit of tears. You cried so hard to the point where you ended up getting a headache. You felt silly for crying so much over something so trivial, however you couldn’t help it. Everything had just built up to that one ticking point and now you had just become a pathetic mess.

Just as the tears began to come to a halt, you heard the doorbell ring. You did your best to wipe your tears away and look presentable, though you weren’t fooling anyone. “Hey Y/N, I didn’t feel like going to practice today and I missed y— wait are you crying?” Aomine said once you answered the door.

“Oh, um, not anymore—”

“Who hurt you? Where are they? I’ll fight them,” he questioned, concern spread across his face.

“No Daiki, it’s fine. I just didn’t have a very good day,” you said, causing his shoulders to sink.

He pulled you into a tight hug, surprising you at first but you quickly melted into his touch. “Hey why don’t we play some video games to get your mind off of things?” he suggested, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“That would be fun,” you nodded slightly against his chest.

“Great. Don’t expect me to take it easy on you though,” he challenged, making you smile. You liked how he didn’t change how he acted around you in times like these. Aomine being this cocky, playful person brought you much more comfort than if he were to be soft and quiet out of pity.

The two of you sat on the floor in front of the TV, playing. You sat between Aomine’s legs and his arms were wrapped around you, making you feel as though you were in a safe, warm cocoon of love. Although it felt like a cocoon of love, it certainly didn’t sound like one if anyone were to overhear. Both of you were quite competitive so there was lots of yelling and swearing, though it was often followed by fits of giggles.

It only took about ten minutes of being with Aomine until you began to feel much better. You had slowly forgotten about what happened at school to the point where it felt like a whole new day altogether. Every now and then, Aomine would place light kisses on your neck, almost as if to remind you that he was there and that he cared for you. It never failed to make you grin like an idiot.

“Ha! I won!” you celebrated, throwing your arms in the air triumphantly.

“That doesn’t count! You just got lucky,” Aomine tutted. “Let’s play again— I’ll win this time.”

“Sure, if you say so,” you said in a condescending tone, which made Aomine’s competitiveness burst through the roof. You giggled before turning slightly to face him and pressing your lips against his. “Thank you for coming over. I really needed this,” you smiled.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, blushing over the kiss that took him by surprise. “I’m just glad you feel better.”

• Murasakibara •

It was a difficult day for you. You had woken up late so you were forced to skip breakfast in order to make it to school on time. Furthermore, when you did get to school, it was so hard to keep up with the lessons because you were tired and found it difficult to concentrate. You thought that having some food from the school canteen would possibly improve your mood, but when you went during recess, it was incredibly crowded there. After nudging your way to the front, you found out that they were sold out on all the food that you liked, so you just settled for a box of chocolate milk for lunch.

After recess, you had to give a presentation for one of your classes, much to your dismay. You found it a bit difficult to be presenting because all you could think about was how hungry you were, but you managed to pull through. However, in the middle of another classmate’s presentation, your stomach let out the loudest growl you had ever heard. Everyone’s heads turned to you and the teacher had to order the rest of the class to stop snickering as your face began to glow red in embarrassment.

The school day finally came to an end and you couldn’t have been more glad to be able to go home. You thought that you had survived the worst of it and you could go home and eat as much as you wanted. However, as you were heading towards the school gates, you were passing by a group of classmates who didn’t really like you. You didn’t think too much of it until your foot got caught by something, sending you toppling onto the concrete. They tripped you. You let out a small yelp of pain as you hugged your scraped knee.

You clenched your jaw in pain as you heard them laugh and say things like, “What an idiot,” to each other. Each passing moment was absolutely awful to you.

You managed to heave yourself up and you did your best to limp all the way home as quickly as you could so that you could clean up the wound as well as cry where no one could see you. You couldn’t help but flinch whenever there was a gust of wind as the air only made the stinging worse. You finally got home and cleaned yourself up, doing your best to do so through teary eyes and shaky hands.

You were about to go to your bedroom and cry into your pillow when you heard the doorbell ring. When you opened the door, you found Murasakibara standing there with a snack in his hand, as usual. His neutral expression quickly turned into a frown upon seeing the state you were in. “Y/N-chin, what’s wrong? Your face is red,” he questioned, not even bothering to greet you.

“Oh I tripped and hurt my knee, so I was just crying a bit over it,” you explained, not wanting to bring up the bullying because you very well knew that Murasakibara would threaten to ‘crush’ them.

“That doesn’t seem like all the details though,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to deduce what was wrong.

“I’m just a bit hungry too I guess,” you shrugged.

Murasakibara’s face lit up at the sound of those words. For once, he knew exactly how to help. He quickly put his snacks in his bag and turned his back to you. “Let’s go to that cafe you like. Here get on my back,” he said.

“What? I could just walk.”

“No, you hurt your knee right? Let me carry you. You weigh absolutely nothing to me anyways,” he said.

It took you a moment, but you sighed, “It’s just a scrape but if you insist,” before hopping onto his back and wrapping your arms around his neck while his hand gripped your thighs.

The two of you chatted along the way, though there were far more silences between you than usual because you still weren’t in the best of moods. The two of you managed to gain a few stares, being a 2 metre tall giant with a smaller person on his back, though neither of you cared too much. You never liked being stared at, but when you were with Murasakibara all you really seemed to focus on was him, which was a rather calming experience.

You two finally got to your favourite cafe, where Murasakibara lowered you onto the floor. Both of you ordered quite a lot for yourselves because you were starving and Murasakibara was, well, Murasakibara. It was your favourite cafe for a reason- the food and drinks were absolutely delicious and each bite and sip made your mood get better and better.

“This stuff is delicious,” Murasakibara exclaimed with a mouth full of food, making you giggle.

“Oh right, it’s your first time here. Yeah, this place is great,” you nodded.

“We’re gonna come here every day from now on,” Murasakibara declared to you.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smiled, seeing how much he was enjoying himself filled you with joy of your own.

You two continued to talk like you usually would, which made you realise how Murasakibara’s very presence improved your mood. He didn’t need to try to comfort you, he himself had a comforting aura that seemed to impact those around him. He’d often sprinkle in little compliments into conversation. They weren’t too elaborate, and they were mostly along the lines of a simple, ‘You look cute, Y/N-chin,’ or, ‘I like your hairstyle,’ but they were filled with so much adoration that you couldn’t help but feel warm whenever you were around him. It had a much more significant impact on days like these where you felt quite apathetic; it never failed to make you grin.

“Are you still hungry? Do you want me to order you more food?” Murasakibara inquired.

You shook your head no, “I’m alright.”

With that, the two of you left the cafe and began to head back home, however this time you managed to convince Murasakibara to let you walk.

“Thanks for taking me there. I feel much better now,” you smiled, the way your small hand fit in his enormous one bringing you joy and comfort.

“Hm? That’s good to hear. You’re cute when you’re happy,” he said, bending over to place a quick kiss on your cheek. You felt nothing but content in that moment with him, and you knew that only he could make you feel so loved and appreciated without even having to try.

• Akashi •

Your midterms were around the corner and the stress was eating you up more and more every day. You were up late the previous night so you found it quite difficult to stay awake during class. It didn’t help that you had a pounding headache as well. You did your best not to stay up late because you knew that it could only impede on your mood the next day, however the damage was already done and there was not much you could do to fix it. All you could do was suppress it and try to make it through the day.

Of course, it was days like these that the bullies in your class chose to pick on you the most. Throughout the day, you’d hear their usual insults and rude comments, but you learned to tune them out. The only time you managed to escape them was during your recess, where you hung out with Akashi. It was like his presence had put this protective shield around you and no one dared to approach you or pass any comments.

The last lesson of your day was PE, which wasn’t too bad because the teacher didn’t exhaust you with too many activities. Once it was over, he gave you the task of putting away the equipment in the storage room. Reluctantly, you did as you were told and heaved the things into the room. Just as you were finishing up, you heard the door slam behind you.

Engulfed in the darkness, your claustrophobia began to kick in, setting off a wave of panic within you. You rushed to the door and tried to pull it open, but it wouldn’t budge- you were locked in. “Hello? Could you please let me out? I’m really claustrophobic!” you called out as you pounded your fist on the door.

You received no response, but you could hear the familiar sounds of snickers and giggles on the other side.

You continued to pound on the door and let out cries for help, hoping that at least someone would hear you. Your breaths started to become heavier as your panic grew larger. You kept at the banging for a good ten minutes before the PE teacher finally came to your rescue, though it felt like years. The second the door opened, you sprinted out of there, not stopping to explain what happened to your confused teacher.

Your vision was limited with the tears in your eyes and you could hear nothing but the sound of your footsteps as you ran towards your house. When you finally got to the comfort of your own room, you collapsed to the carpeted floor, hugging your knees for dear life as you tried to catch your breath. Of course, crying didn’t do you any favours and you just sat there gasping for air as tears streamed down your hot cheeks. You haven’t had a breakdown like this for ages. It was like every time you closed your eyes, you were back in that storage room with no one to help you.

It took you some time, but you eventually began to simmer down and you finally picked yourself off the floor. Your cheeks were still red and your eyes were still bloodshot, but the tears finally ran out. The doorbell rang and you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down before going over to answer it.

To your surprise, Akashi was standing in front of you, with your backpack in hand and a look of concern on his face. “Oh hi Seijuro,” you greeted, doing your best to muster a smile.

“Y/N, what happened? You left your backpack in class,” he said as you let him into the house.

“Oh I must’ve forgotten it,” you mumbled. “Don’t you have practice today?”

“I do, but Reo told me that he saw you running out of school crying so I decided to skip and come check on you,” he explained as the two of you took your seats on the living room couch.

“These girls in my class locked me in the storage room of the gym and I got panicked,” you said softly, hating having to revisit what had happened earlier.

“Who were they? I can complain—”

“No, don’t do that. I don’t want to explain what happened again. And it would only cause more trouble,” you interrupted, feeling a familiar tightness in your throat.

Akashi was quick to notice your lack of eye contact and dejected expression and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “I won’t say anything until you feel ready,” he said, reassurance in his tone.

“Okay,” you said, nodding into his shoulder.

Akashi scanned the room in search of ways to get your mind off of things. A bulb lit up in his mind as his eyes landed on the stereo set by the TV. He pulled away from the hug and headed over to connect his phone.

You watched his movements with a confused expression, but as soon as he began to play your favourite song you began to smile a bit. He walked over to you and held his hand out expectantly. “May I have this dance?” he asked smoothly, with a small smirk on his face.

Akashi very well knew that you wouldn’t refuse because you absolutely adored that song. The next thing you knew, you were slow dancing with him in the living room. He especially loved spinning you around out of the blue because it often resulted in you erupting into a fit of giggles, which he enjoyed more than anything.

“Are you having fun?” Akashi questioned, once the third song made its way to an end.

You nodded with a grin, “Yes I am. Thank you for coming and checking up on me. This really helped.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Akashi pulled you into a hug once more. With his arms around your waist and your head on his shoulder, the two of you swayed along to the music, simply enjoying each other’s company. In that moment, all your troubles seemed to fade away as the only thing that occupied your mind was the fact that you were nothing but loved and protected in Akashi Seijuro’s arms.

• Kagami •

Waking up late and skipping breakfast wasn’t a new experience for you. It happened almost every other day. So when it happened to you yet again, you weren’t surprised and it didn’t really affect your mood in the beginning.

However, as the school day progressed, your lessons got more and more challenging and you were finding it quite difficult to keep up with whatever was going on. You couldn’t help but internally groan, knowing that you would probably have to devote some time after school to try to understand the content.

It was exhausting, but you managed to get through to the end of the day. All that was left was for you to pack your things and leave. Although, your bullies weren’t going to let a whole day go by without picking on you at least once. You were hunched over your bag, trying to organise your belongings when suddenly, freezing cold water was being poured over your head.

With a gasp, you quickly stood up, their laughter sounding menacing. Your mind desperately wanted to tell them off for doing something so crude, but all your body could do was shiver. You were more so filled with frustration rather than sadness, but tears quickly began to well up in your eyes.

You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing you cry, so you quickly grabbed your belongings and rushed out of class, desperate to get home as soon as possible. Of course, being soaking wet in the middle of winter wasn’t ideal, but you did your best to endure it on your way back.

“Y/N!” You heard a familiar deep voice call out to you as you walked along the pavement.

Turning around, you saw Kagami approaching you with a confused look on his face. “H-Hi K-Kagami,” you said through chattering teeth, quickly wiping your tears away with the back of your hand.

Upon seeing your state, Kagami immediately reached into his bag and pulled out his jersey, wrapping it around your shivering body. “What on Earth happened? Why are you soaking wet?” He questioned.

“S-Some girls in my class poured water over me,” You muttered.

“What? That’s awful. Are they stupid? It’s the middle of winter! Come on, let’s get you home,” Kagami said, putting his arm around your shoulder in attempts to provide you with more warmth as you walked.

When you finally did get home, you immediately changed out of your clothes. As you did that, Kagami prepared some hot chocolate for you in order to warm you up. “Thanks Taiga,” you said softly as you sipped on the beverage that filled you with warmth.

“No worries. Did you have breakfast today?” Kagami asked, knowing your history of waking up late.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “I didn’t have time.”

“Yeah I figured. Okay, why don’t we cook something together?” Kagami suggested, hoping that it would get your mind off of today.

You flashed him a small smile, “That sounds fun.”

You’ve cooked with Kagami a few times before and you always had a good experience with him. He liked to fool around a lot with you as he cooked, leaving random kisses on your cheek and neck and flicking water onto you every time he washed his hands. Of course, this didn’t change this time round either and you appreciated it.

After about an hour of giggles and preparing, the food was finally done, and it looked and smelled absolutely delicious. In fact, the first mouthful filled you with so much glee that you had managed to completely get the incident in school out of your mind.

“This is so good. We could be professionals,” Kagami said, a hint of sarcasm laced in his tone.

“I 100% agree,” you giggled.

Once you were done eating, Kagami took it upon himself to do the dishes, even though you insisted that you’d help.

“Are you feeling any better?” Kagami asked you as he rinsed the soapy plates.

“Yeah. I feel much better thanks to you and your professional cooking,” you said.

“Hey, you were cooking too- give yourself some credit,” Kagami replied, finishing the last of the dishes and wiping his hands on a towel before making his way over to you. He placed a light kiss on your forehead and gave you a gentle smile. “I’m glad your feel better. Also, tell those girls that the next time they pull something like this, they’re gonna have to catch these hands,” he added, his serious tone making you laugh. You couldn’t have asked for a better person to be there for you.

[etherealluminescence]

Shdjdjjddjjs okay but, more buff cat hcs when ?? But seriously, i know it probably counts as crack hc but i enjoyed it way to much i cant get it out of my head anymore, i havent laught so much in a while now sjdjchdj. I sure hope the buff cat saga will continue !!

You know what? I’ll give you some buff cat content now. 😤 my school work can wait. And trust me, the buff cat saga WILL continue. I just tend to work on requests first rather than my own wants haha.

I’m really happy you like buff cat! Buff cat is my life now. Constantly haunted by buff cat. Maybe one day I’ll introduce a girlfriend or friends for buff cat too 🤔

Maybe I’ll do a background about buff cat and how they met MC?? And why buff cat is so attached to MC? I don’t know. 👉👈 maybe if someone requests, otherwise I’ll just do whatever I feel like in the moment.

Anyone can also feel free to request any buff cat scenarios!! If not I’ll think of some up. THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY. I WROTE THIS LIKE 1 HOUR OR SOMETHING STRAIGHT AHA.

The boys react to buff cat teaching you

Lucifer

Lucifer had noticed your grades were improving recently, and wanted to take you out to eat for working so hard to both keep up with your class.

When he came to your room, he saw a scene that honestly shouldn’t of surprised him, but did anyways.

You were sitting at your desk, books sprawled across the entire surface area of it. On top of a book pile was buff cat, wearing a pair of glasses, and he was using a pointer to show you important parts you should remember.

He watched in awe as you two never exchanged any words, but you were scribbling down definitions and important notes, while buff cat turned the pages and reviewed your work.

He’s gotten fairly use to buff cat cooking, cleaning, intimidating others, but he has never seen buff cat act like a teacher before, it was sort of new, and he even had a teacher outfit.

He swears that he never sees you buying these outfits, or that people in the devildom actually sell muscular cat clothing.

Buff Cat is the first to break the silence, looking over at Lucifer and positioning his pointer at Lucifer’s head, and then to in front of your desk.

You were still focused on your studying, knowing that you were steadily improving. Buff Cat got out a notepad from one of your desk drawers, and wrote “Leave what you require on this note, I am instructing MC right now, and when we are done tutoring I will give this note to them.”

Lucifer ended up having to take a rain check on taking you out to eat, and learned that your cat has really advanced vocabulary.

Mammon

He was failing the majority of his classes, and ended up asking you for help. You were his best shot, and you seemed to be passing all of your classes with flying colours.

You said you were happy to help him! Except that someone else was actually helping you study. They were a very efficient teacher.

He was relieved to hear that you’d introduce your teacher to him, until he found out it was that fucking demon spawn from hell.

He screeched so hard and ran out of the room, crying like a girl. “aAAAAaaaaAAAH”

Mammon is terrified of buff cat, and now you’re telling him this cat has the intelligence of a genius? You came to the devildom like a few months ago how is this cat tutoring you and making you pass your classes with ease??

He swears your cat is trying to plot for world domination or something. Will NEVER ask you to study with him again.

Leviathan

You walked into Levi’s room trying to find buff cat. It was a Sunday, which was typically a boys night out between them, but it was getting pretty late and you need to study.

There was a test tomorrow on devildom history, and you wanted to review one more time with buff cat, as to make sure you’ll do well on it.

“Mr. Kitty, are you here?” You called out, as soon as you said that Buff Cat paused the game and ran up to you. Levi was slightly annoyed as Buff Cat was beating a hard level for him, but he is your cat above all else.

You smiled as Buff Cat greeted you, and apologised for interrupting them. You explained to Levi how you wanted to review for the test, and if it wasn’t an issue could he spare around 20 minutes?

Levi huffed and agreed and called you a normie, and was about to pick up his switch when your words finally set in.

You put down the book you were carrying and got out a pencil, and took a piece of paper out of the book. You began writing down all of the important stuff on the paper while Buff Cat watched over your shoulder.

When you were finished, he went into the book with you and showed you a couple things you’ve missed or had forgotten, and then got you to write it down three times each as to remember. He even wrote a few essay questions for you which you got.

Levi was impressed. Not only did Buff Cat seem to know the whole devildom history by heart, he knew the exact pages and lines, and even how to write.

He didn’t really care as long as Buff Cat beats the hard level for him. He just considers it to be cool.

Satan

Satan was impressed with your high grades. It must be hard for a human to suddenly learn about a whole new realm, right? So if you had Cs he would understand, but you were getting 97s and 94s.

He understood everything when he started to notice what kind of books Buff Cat had been reading in his room, recently.

You all were having a test on curses soon, and Buff Cat came by his room and began looking for books about curses, and similar ones to what you all had been learning about.

Satan ended up chuckling to himself and found it amusing. It was amazing how your cat even spent his free time coming to someone’s room, finding books for your tests, and reads them before going back to you to help you understand the content.

He likes to get coffee with Buff Cat and talk about the stuff you’re learning in classes, he never directly said it to you, but he helps Buff Cat find specific books when Buff Cat comes over.

Asmodeous

Lucifer decided to punish the house of lamentations by taking away all of their electronics after they did something stupid again. The only way to earn it back, was through getting an 80% or higher on their next test.

You and Asmo suffered because you would normally look up answer during your test, and Asmo had no social media or contact with any of his friends with benefits.

You two weren’t ashamed to beg Buff Cat for help to pass your next test. He was probably the smartest in the house. He goes to Satan’s room almost every day and purchased books when he goes out. Your cat even tutored you when you were in elementary school.

You and Asmo barely needed to convince Buff Cat, as he was ecstatic to help you again. He’d do anything to help you, and was even willing to help Asmo out as well.

Asmo thought that Buff Cat looked REALLY adorable in his teacher’s outfit. A suit, tie, glasses, and his claws were so shiny from their manicure earlier.

Buff cat even slicked his fur back to look like he gel’d his hair. He was a literal fashion icon. Asmo could do some sewing, but nothing to the degree Buff Cat did.

Buff Cat had so many outfits he made himself, and he even did them so quickly. They all turned out perfect. Oh right, this was about studying wasn’t it?

Asmo never really asked questions about why your cat could just be so smart, and more so focused on how cool your cat looked. Priorities.

Beelzebub

Beel and Buff Cat are gym buddies, so naturally they’d walk home together from the gym. Everything was fine until Buff Cat’s MC senses were tingling, and began to walk towards you, crouching down in a store trying to figure out which notebooks to buy.

Beel thought it was pretty cool Buff Cat knew where you were, like how he and Belphie were that close to each other.

Brel asked you what you were doing, and you explained that you wanted to get some new notebooks because your old one is messy and confusing. You just scribbled whatever you could down, and were having a bit of a hard time in class.

Buff Cat immediately perked up, and you two seemed to have a conversation. He meowed and you happily said “I’d love that!”

Apparently, Buff Cat had offered to tutor you. Beel wasn’t so sure how well your cat could teach, though, considering he still is a cat, and offered to help you as well, since he wouldn’t like to see you sad from overworking yourself.

He was scribbling notes alongside with you five minutes into your first session together. Buff Cat wrote such simple explanations, and even prepared notecards ahead of time, Beel forgot he was supposed to teach you.

He is pretty fine with Buff Cat teaching you both, and once again forgets that Buff Cat is a “normal”? cat and not some weird creature that knows the answer to life.

Belphegor

Is really fucking terrified of your buff cat. Like TERRIFIED. So when he sees your cat in a teacher’s outfit sitting at the dinning room table, teaching you math, he was frozen.

He came down to get a glass of milk but what is this. Do you- do you have to do it in the living room?

There is no other reaction than physical fear coursing through his body his adrenaline is at the highest and his fight or flight instincts kick in.

He’s already fought once and that caused Buff Cat to exist in constant Buff form around him, so you can bet he is running.

Probably has a group chat with Mammon and Luke. “Buff Cat Conspiracy”. They talk about how scary buff cat is.

Diavolo

Buff Cat told Diavolo he was the one who helped you study. They were having conversation (buff cat used a notebook) and the topic of your studies came up. He mentioned how he had been helping you study, and understand the terminology in the Devildom better.

He was happy to hear that you understood it, and that it wasn’t too complicated for either of you too.

He actually asks if he can watch your study sessions, to see if he needs to lighten your workload just in case you’re pushing yourself too much.

You two allow him to watch, and he’s giving soft claps and smiles as the two of you give it your best.

Is honestly very happy with how much you two get along, and how you say it’s very simple since Buff Cat explains(meows) it in a very efficient manner.

He already knew Buff Cat was smart, but haha. Maybe he should hire Buff Cat to be a teacher or support class teacher for RAD?

Barbatos

You had grown accustomed to the devildom these past few months, and with Buff Cat with you, you were allowed to freely explore it when you want.

Buff Cat also happens to have a spare key to open the castle when he wishes.

Exam/testing season was coming up, and you knew you couldn’t study at the house of lamentation.

It was very distracting, and so you decided to go to the castle. No one will be screaming there, or trying to convince you your cat is a weird entity trying to plot world domination.

Barbatos was sort of used to seeing Buff Cat come and go as he pleases, but why were you here? Before he could say anything, you told him that you were visiting to study! And that you hope he didn’t mind that Buff Cat was going to tutor you.

Alright, so you’re studying, but why at the castle? You had to explain that it was very distracting at the house of lamentations, and Mammon was trying to convince you to get rid of your cat 24/7.

Ah, he could see that. Your cat isn’t exactly normal, and Mammon does occasionally scream like a girl. I promise I love Mammon. But it’s not like he minded, so long as you two were quiet and actually studied.

He left to clean for a bit, and when he returned to the guest room he saw you wearing a headband, violently writing down and muttering definitions at an insane pace. Buff Cat was in a teacher’s outfit, and holding out flash cards.

He’s slightly taken aback, but doesn’t show it anywhere on his face. He has never seen you so serious before, and neither has he seen Buff Cat so focused on you, as well.

He’s quite proud of you two for your hard work and dedication. He doesn’t interrupt but instead pours you three cups of tea, Buff Cat thanks him, and watches over you two.

Solomon

Solomon invited you over for a study session. He may be a little shady, but he does care for you, as a fellow human.

He was ecstatic to see Buff Cat come with you, because he still wants to dissect your cat.

He was about to talk to you about letting him research you cat, but you made yourself comfortable on his bed, and Buff Cat began to put on glasses and take out a pointer.

He didn’t have anytime to talk beforehand, as you were highlighting certain areas of your book, your cat pointing to certain parts, and you patted the bed beside you for Solomon to join.

Solomon’s plans to dissect your cat are set back another day, but he takes great interest in the way he teaches. Your cat is very methodical about how to remember things, and explains(meows) it rather simply.

He swears that your cat is not a normal human cat, but why can he sense literally zero magic power from it? If only Buff Cat could teach him that.

Solomon also gets 100% on the next test by remembering everything the way Buff Cat had taught you two.

Simeon

Absolutely chaotic man, when he sees you and Buff Cat in a classroom when school was over, he approached you two, and said hello.

You greeted him, and so did Buff Cat. He asked what you were doing after school so late, and that it was dangerous for the two of you. Buff Cat not so much but could still be in danger.

You told him you were studying for the upcoming test, and that Buff Cat was helping you.

Simeon was like!!! 💖👉👈💖💖💖💖🥰🥰🥺🥺 could I join?? This sounds so fun!! Buff Cat is so smart!!

He does not question the fact he’s studying with a cat, learning from a cat, or just how nice your cat can write on paper, like perfect handwriting.

He has such chaotic energy that he’s just like you, what a cute cat!

Luke

no.

just no.

he’s fine with your cat but does your cat have to be in buff form when you’re being taught?

he is happy you are getting good grades but please get him away from buff form buff cat.

[myhockeyworld87]

Favorite Season

Ok so I’m making a couple stories that didn’t show up in the tags all new posts again. I apologize if you already read this. 

Word Count: 8,690

POV: Jon’s

Notes: So this is me in my sad bitch hours, so let me apologize in advance to everyone. This story just sort of popped into my head when I listened to Mariah Carey’s Miss You Most at Christmas Time and so I decided to put it down on paper so to speak. Sorry I haven’t been on much lately, but hopefully that will change with the new year. Guess I needed a little cleanse, but I’ll post more on that later. Happy Reading and Happy New Year! I hope you are spending it with friends or family or both. May 2021 bring you peace, joy, health and happiness!

Sidenote: This is not my gif

Second Sidenote: Wishing Jon the best and hoping that he is able to be back on the ice soon!

People always assumed when you talked about what season you loved the most, that you meant hockey, for obvious reasons of course; it was your profession, but once you’d met (Y/N), the word season took on a whole new meaning. You’d kindly respond and tell them no, that wasn’t the season you were talking about. They then assumed that you’d meant spring, for that’s when (Y/N) walked into your life. Well, ran into was more like it. She’d been rushing to the United Center for an interview for a summer internship program, while you were on your way out. Neither one of you had been paying attention, which is how you’d ended up holding her in your arms that first time. You knew from that first moment that you never wanted to let her go.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” (Y/N) said as she tried to regain her footing.

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” She stepped out of your arms to pick up the strewn contents of her bag and being the gentlemen that you were, you knelt down to help her. “Here let me help you.” You picked up a small paperback book and glanced at the title. “Alors tu apprends le Francais?”

“Oh geez, this is so embarrassing,” she admitted, a blush staining her cheeks. “I just bought this book a week ago, in hopes to learn French but I’m afraid I don’t know a word of what you said…well, other than French.” She laughed softly to cover up her embarrassment, but the sound was like a melody that you wanted to play over and over again.

“I just asked if you were learning French.” You handed the book back to her with a smile, as you both stood up off the ground.

“Well, don’t I feel stupid.” She placed the book back in the bag, then placed it on her shoulder. “But yes, I’m trying to learn French. I’m hoping to go to Paris after graduation. Which gives me approximately one year to learn the language, you so eloquently speak.”

“Thank you, but I grew up speaking it, so it comes naturally.”

“Ah, well, you’re lucky.” She took a step away. “I’ve got to run. Again, so sorry for bumping into you.”

“It really wasn’t your fault.”

“We’ll call it a draw,” she said with a lift of her shoulder as she turned and walked away. It was then you noticed a small snowflake charm on the ground.

“Wait, you forgot this.” She turned back around, meeting you halfway.

“Oh, this must have fallen off my keychain again. Thank you, I would’ve been devasted had I lost this. I owe you one.”

You weren’t sure if they were just words spoken or if she truly meant them, but you decided to take a gamble. “How about dinner?”

Her beautiful eyes got even larger, at your poor attempt to ask her out, and you thought you’d just made an idiot of yourself. “Um…sure.” She dug into her bag pulled out a pen, then tore a page of her learn to speak French book out. She scribbled down her name and number, then handed it over to you. “Call me.” Then she turned and took off again. “Sorry, I’m really late.” She was halfway down the hall as you stood there glancing between her name and her. “Hey what’s your name?” she called out.

“It’s Jon.”

“Make sure you bring my page to dinner. I expect you to teach me how to say whatever’s on that.” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she disappeared down the hall. You called her later that night, and then the following day and every day after that. By the end of spring her French had improved, but not to the point where the two of you could have full conversations without her questioning words here and there. Yes, that spring had been magical and if someone would’ve asked you as summer started, you probably would’ve said that it was your favorite season. But then summer did start, and well that meant you got to see (Y/N) lounging by the lake in a bikini. Your twenty-year-old self thought there was no better season than this. Again though, that wasn’t the season that would stand out in your mind. Nor would it be fall, when just after six months of dating her you told her you loved her.

It hadn’t been some grand gesture like you see in the movie. Rather it was really quite simple. You’d just lost the season opener to the Nashville Predators. It was your first season as captain of the team and you’d really felt the pressure; more from yourself than anyone else. You were the last to come out of the locker room, and you were feeling pretty defeated, but there stood (Y/N) leaning against the wall, holding a piece of paper which read, ‘Tu Les Auras La Prochaine fois.’ But it wasn’t the sign saying that you’ll get them next time that made your heart skip a beat, it was seeing her smiling face holding it that did it for you. “Je t'aime.” The words were out of your mouth before you could think about it, and you didn’t want to take them back. She looked a bit startled and unsure of what to say. “It means I love you, silly. Man, I really thought your French was getting better.”

“I…I know what you said. I just want to make sure, you meant it.”

“Je t'aime, Te Quiero, Ti Amo, they all mean the same, (Y/N). I love you. I probably should’ve said it the day I met you, but…” She still didn’t say anything and suddenly you were starting to wonder if maybe today was too soon. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“No…I mean…Yes…” She closed her eyes then, gathering her thoughts. “Damn, I said that all wrong. I love you too, Jon. Je t'aime.” Her lips were on yours then, the kiss was like so many you shared these last few months, only there was more heat, more passion as you poured all your love for her into it. “Let’s go home,” she softly whispered when you broke apart, a glint in her eye that told you she wanted to show you how much she really loved you.

Your lips quirked up into a smile. “Anything you want, mon amour.”

Yes, fall definitely was one of your favorite times, but it was Christmas that always held a special meaning.

That first Christmas would always hold a special place in your heart. You could remember it like it was yesterday.

You’d just come home from a quick road trip to Detriot. You dropped your bags off at your place and then headed over to (Y/N)’s apartment. When you got there, caricatures of her and her two roommates were drawn on the door, all three dressed for Christmas and around a cartoon tree. You had a hard time knowing where to knock for all the decorations on the door. (Y/N) came scurrying to the door. “You’re back,” she said jumping into your arms and kissing you soundly. Your lips never left hers as you stepped into the apartment.

“Mmm, I see someone missed me.”

“I always miss you, but I’m glad you’re back. You’re just in time to help me hang the rest of these decorations. I could use your height.”

“Oh, so now you only want me because I’m tall.” She released you then swatted you on the arm.

“No, but it doesn’t hurt. Here can you help me string these lights up?”

You took the strand and hung them up per her instructions. “Boy, you really go all out for Christmas.”

“But of course, don’t you?”

“Not really. I don’t even have a tree.”

“Wait, what? You don’t have a tree?” She repeated your exact words as if the thought was impossible.

“It’s not really a huge deal in my family, besides I’m usually never home because of hockey,” you told her as you finished hanging the lights. (Y/N) walked over to the closet, grabbed her shoes, and put on her coat, as soon as you were done. “Uh, babe, where are you going?”

“To go get you some Christmas decorations.” She opened the door, then looked back when you didn’t follow. “Are you coming?” You had no choice but to follow her.

The rest of the afternoon was spent picking out lights, ornaments, a tree, and more decorations than you could fit in your shopping cart, but you didn’t mind being dragged from store to store as (Y/N)’s face lit up in every one of them. “Ok, star or angel?” she asked you holding up two tree toppers, but before you could answer she kept going. “I mean part of me thinks that we should go with the star. It’s pretty traditional and well they always sing about hanging the star on top of the tree, but I like the symbolism of the angel.”

You looked both of them over when she finally decided to take a breath. “Angel, definitely.” She turned the figurine towards her looking it over, while you walked behind her, letting your hands slide around her waist so you could pull her close. When she turned back to look at you, questioning your choice, you simply said, “You’re my angel and she reminds me of you.” She kissed you then, right there in aisle C8, amidst the Christmas decorations.

“Angel it is then.” She set the tree topper in the cart and the two of you headed to the checkout. On the way there, you spotted a sprig of mistletoe and tossed it in the cart unbeknownst to (Y/N). It wasn’t until the tree was up that night, that she found it. “I don’t remember putting this in the cart.”

“You didn’t. I did.” You took the mistletoe out of her hand and went to hang it up in the archway. “If we’re going for full-on Christmas, we can’t forget the best part.” Grabbing her hand, you lead her over to where you’d just hung the little green sprig.

“You really think you need this, to get me to make out with you?” Your hands encircled her waist as she spoke the words, and you drew her in close to you.

“Well, no. This is just an excuse.” You pecked her lips quickly. “Besides, this is my first time decorating for this holiday, I might as well go all out.”

She returned the kiss, only it was more heated as you slid your tongue inside her. She moaned into your mouth before pulling back. “In that case, let’s make it a little more memorable.” She stepped out of your embrace, her fingers trailing down to the button on your pants. It slipped out of the buttonhole easily, before she slid the zipper down. You sucked in a breath, as her hands snuck inside the waistband of your boxers and she slid them and your pants all the way to the ground. (Y/N) fell to her knees, her hands skating up your thighs as you felt her warm breath fan across your cock. It twitched before you felt her lips place a kiss right on the head. Her lips trailed all the way up and down the length of your shaft, teasing you.

“Babe, you’re killing me.” A wicked glint in her eye was her answer back, as she placed her puckered lips on the head one last time before she finally took you inside her mouth. Your hands threaded through her hair as she sunk down to take most of you in. She took her free hand and wrapped it around the length that didn’t fit inside and gave it a gentle squeeze, then her mouth started to work its own little bit of Christmas magic as she hollowed out her cheeks and sucked on your cock. “Damn, baby that feels so good,” you hissed out, your hips rocking a bit into her mouth. If this was (Y/N)’s idea of Christmas traditions you were all for it, and mistletoe was definitely going to be a staple to your decorating every year.

(Y/N)’s free hand slipped down to your balls where she cupped them and you felt yourself close to bursting. Your body tingled as she hummed around your cock. With her mouth and hands on you it felt like there was enough electricity coursing through your body that you could light up a million strand of Christmas lights at the moment. “(Y/N), I’m going to…” she didn’t stop though just took your cock deeper until you swore you hit the back of her throat. It was that move, that pushed you over as you spilled your seed in her mouth. She swallowed as much as she could, though some dribbled out and you thought it was hot as hell.

That night would forever live in your mind, as you returned the favor by making her cum not once but twice under that same mistletoe. Even though, it was one of your favorite memories from that first Christmas. It wasn’t that, that made Christmas your favorite season. It was the way that (Y/N) embraced the joy of the season in everything she did. Even the simplest things were a little brighter with her around. She made everyone around sparkle and shine just like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Not that she wasn’t always that way, but there was just something special about (Y/N) and Christmas and thus it became your favorite time of year.

There had been no Christmas break that year in the NHL, meaning you had no time to head back home, so (Y/N) had invited you to her house to be with her family. They had welcomed you with open arms and you had found out, why she’d loved Christmas so much. Her family went all out, decorations were everywhere and presents were piled high. They’d included you in all their traditions, from frosting to cookies to playing Christmas charades. They even had you cut a piece of wheat for Baby Jesus’s manager, as was their annual custom to do before opening presents Christmas morning. That first Christmas had set the tone for all those to follow after it.

As Christmas drew to a close that year, you knew one thing for sure. That you never wanted to spend another one without her. It was an easy decision to ask her to move in with you, once she graduated college, and right before that Christmas that year, the two of you bought your first place together. To commemorate the event, (Y/N) had a special ornament made in the shape of a key.

Hockey took precedence the following year, as you won the Stanley Cup and it seemed like the summer and fall flew by. One thing was for sure though, and that was that (Y/N) was with you every step of the way. You knew you had to make that Christmas extra special. It was the first time your family flew in for the holiday. (Y/N)’s family all came to your place as well that year. The house was filled with love and laughter and was about to get a little more exciting.

All the presents had been unwrapped and everyone was lounging in the great room. “I think there’s one more present here,” you pointed to a box you had hidden off in the corner. “Looks like it has your name on it, babe.”

(Y/N) took the gift and looked at the tag. “It doesn’t say who it’s from.”

“Well, that happens from time to time. You know Santa’s elves are really busy this time of year,” her mom chimed in, giving you a little wink. “Go ahead and open it.”

She tore through the layer of paper to the box, then lifted the lid, which happened to reveal a smaller box. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed, laughing as she took that wrapped package out and removed the paper again. Lifting the lid, she found yet another box. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you do this?” She was staring straight at you because she knew this was totally out of your character.  All you could do was simply shrug. The unwrapping went on for another six layers until she finally revealed a small black velvet box. All your family gasped as she went to open it. Her eyes were fixated on the container, as she slowly pulled back the lid. The look of excitement on her face was almost too much for you, and then her face fell, exactly like you thought it would. “There’s nothing in it.” She whispered, her voice small as she lifted her eyes to you. You could feel her family and yours glaring at you for pulling a stunt like this. You decided now would be a good time to put everyone out of their misery.

Dropping down to one knee in front of her, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the extravagant ring that you’d had made for her. The gasp from everyone this time was probably heard down the street as they took in their first glimpse of the engagement ring. (Y/N) covered her mouth with her hands and you saw one lone tear slip down her cheek; a happy one, you hoped. “(Y/N), I was going to leave this in the last box, but then I couldn’t. For your real present isn’t this ring. It’s me. That is if you’ll have me.” She was already shaking her head yes before you even had a chance to ask her the question. “I guess what I’m asking is if you’ll spend every Christmas from now until the end of time with me?” Another tear slid down her cheek and this time you knew for sure it was a joyful one. “(Y/FN), will you be my wife?”

“Yes, Jon, yes!” She was down on the ground in your arms kissing you before you could blink. She almost tackled you to the carpet, but your hand reached out and steadied you both on the end table beside you. That’s when you realized the ring popped out of your hand and had fallen somewhere amongst the pile of wrapping paper.

You broke from the kiss immediately. “Shit, I dropped the ring.”

“I don’t care. You’re my present and apparently my future as well.” She locked her lips with yours again. The two of you were so caught up in each other, you forgot about the rest of your family in the room; who had now gone on a search for the engagement ring.

“Found it,” your mom said breathing a sigh of relief. You took it and slipped it on (Y/N)’s finger making it official. That Christmas was definitely one of the most memorable.

The following summer you married. Most people expected the two of you to have this big grand wedding, which would’ve taken another year or more to plan, but neither you nor (Y/N) wanted that. Instead, it was a quiet ceremony with just family and close friends, exactly what you wanted, as you couldn’t wait for her to be your wife. That Christmas was your first as husband and wife, and there was more than one Mr. and Mrs. Toews ornament hanging off the tree.

Payback came your second Christmas as a married couple. There you were opening box after box. “Really babe? I would’ve expected this last year.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes, Mr. Toews.”

You unwrapped yet another box. “So is the Rolex we looked at a couple weeks ago in here?” She mimicked your shrug from two years ago. It had to be the watch, for the shrug was always (Y/N)’s go to move when she didn’t want to tell you that you were right. Sure enough, as you peeled back the paper on the last package, there was the signature green box of the famous company. “Nice try babe, but I guess I outsmarted you this time.” The hinge creaked as you opened the box, but you were shocked when there wasn’t a watch inside, but a positive pregnancy test. “Are you…?”

Your eyes locked with hers and she was nodding her head. “Yes, yes we are.” Your lips were on hers in an instant, as this time you were the one with tears in your eyes.

“I don’t get the big deal over a watch.” You heard your brother say in French in the background.

“They’re having a baby you idiot,” your dad told him, cuffing him upside the head.

Levi Abram Toews was born on July twenty-fifth of the following year, giving you a little bit of Christmas midway through the following year. His first Christmas was probably one of your favorites. At six months old, he was sitting up and just starting to crawl. (Y/N) had to move all the floor decorations up, because he started to chew on all the snowmen that he could grab. Levi’s little eyes sparkled as he was mesmerized by all the twinkling lights and bulbs. You thought you couldn’t love Christmas anymore, but seeing it through your son’s eyes made the holiday even more joyous.

When 2013 Christmas rolled around it had you hanging another Stanley cup ornament on the tree as the Hawks had won yet another one. It seemed as though the moment (Y/N) stepped into your life all the pieces just fell into place. She truly was the angel on top of the tree.

You didn’t think anything remarkable happened the Christmas of 2014 but by Valentine’s day it became clear that your wife was pregnant again, and your new little one had to have been conceived on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. It too would always hold special meaning whenever you looked at your baby girl. Elizabeth or Lizzie as you liked to call her, joined your little family on September 25th, 2015. Making her the cherry on the cake to winning your third Stanley cup. Lizzie was daddy’s girl and everyone knew it, even your wife. Of course, there were a few ornaments on the Christmas tree that year. One with Lizzie’s picture in the cup, along with her first Christmas ornament, all got hung alongside the three Stanley Cup ornaments and Levi’s bulb. Your tree was getting quite full.

As were your wife’s hands apparently, as you could see (Y/N) getting more and more tired as Christmas 2016 rolled around. Oh, she was still her fun-loving and joyful self, but she also looked completely exhausted most days. She would dust off any concerns and tell you that was the price she paid for having two kids under the age of four. “Babe, why don’t you come and sit down,” you told her having just gotten back from your last road trip before Christmas, which was only three days away.

“I can’t. I still need to finish wrapping the gifts, then I’ve got cookies to bake, and get the food prepped for Christmas Eve dinner.”

“What can I do to help?” You asked rubbing her shoulders as she worked in the dining room wrapping the presents since the kids were finally in bad.

“You could…” She spun around to talk to you and that’s when your heart fell out of your chest as she collapsed right into your arms. Your blood ran cold as you saw color draining from her face. Gently as you could, you laid her down on the floor, calling out her name. “(Y/N)…baby…(Y/N) please wake up.” You ran and grabbed your bag knowing that you had smelling salts in there that the team used every now and then. Breaking it open, you wafted the scent over her nose, praying the whole time for her to wake back up. It took a bit, but eventually, she did rouse. “Oh thank god.”

“What happened?”

“I was going to ask you. You just fainted in my arms.” She made a move to get up but you could see that another bout of something had hit her again. “No just stay there. I’m calling the team doctor.”

“Jon, don’t. I’m sure I’m just tired. I’ll be fine.”

It was too late for her to try to change your mind as you already had the doctor dialed up. He asked a few questions, basically checking to see if she could be pregnant, but that wasn’t an option as she’d just finished her period two days ago. He recommended that you head to the hospital and get (Y/N) checked out. It was a fight to get her there, especially so close to Christmas, but eventually, she gave in and once her parents came to watch the kids, the two of you were on your way.

You rushed into the emergency room, where (Y/N) went through a series of tests. You hadn’t realized until that moment, when (Y/N) was laying in the hospital bed, that she’d lost some weight and seemed very fatigued. Your wife was always this strong and unmovable force, yet right then she looked so frail. Mentally, you kicked yourself for not noticing these things earlier.  After hours of testing, the emergency room doctor came in to speak to you both. He told you that there was definitely something off in her blood work and that he wanted to admit her for further testing. (Y/N) put up a fight, not wanting to be in the hospital another minute. She insisted she had way too many things to do than just laying around waiting for them to tell her she would be fine.

“You’re staying and that’s final.” She argued with you, but in the end, you won out again.

Thankfully, she was out of the hospital by Christmas Eve and when she came home, her parents and yours had most everything done so that it was a perfect Christmas for your children. It was two days after Christmas that you received the worst news of your life. (Y/N) had been diagnosed with stomach cancer. The doctor wasn’t sure what stage it was in but wanted her for more testing before they would try and figure out treatment. It couldn’t have come at a worse time, as you were just gearing up for a ten-day road trip.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Damnit Jon, you are going. You’re the captain of the team and they need you,” she shouted back to you. The two of you had been arguing since you put the kids in bed. Your parents were still there, they had decided to stay a little longer with (Y/N) being sick to help out with the kids and her parents were only minutes away, but none of that mattered.

“I’m also the captain of THIS team,” you said pointing back and forth between the two of you. “And right now, that’s more important.”

“It’s just some testing at this point. If there’s anything more serious, you can be on the next plane back here.” Her voice was quieter now, and you couldn’t tell if she was just weak from cancer or tired of fighting, but you could see the determination in her eyes not to lose this battle. You needed her to keep that same look for whatever was to come and it was for that reason alone that you found yourself agreeing to go on the trip.

She was right, you were only a phone call away, and she could facetime you in on all her appointments, which she did. It was not the way you wanted to find out that her biopsy showed her having stage two stomach cancer and that her chance of survival was thirty-five percent.

You could see her crumbling on the screen, her mom and dad beside her for support, but it wasn’t enough. You should’ve been there damnit. Why in the hell had you listened to her? You wanted to scream through the phone but couldn’t; you needed to stay calm and be there for her. “Baby, look at me,” you said in a gentle yet reassuring voice, and her tearstained eyes locked with yours. “We’re going to beat this.” She sniffled loudly, then straightened her back, that steely determination taking over.

“Of course, we will.” What you didn’t know, was that she cried the entire ride home in the backseat of her parents’ car, or how she made her dad ride around the block several times before going inside to see your children. All the while, you were on the phone with the team doctor finding out everything you could to help your wife. The two of you found the best specialist in North America and had her records sent there. A week later, you were by (Y/N)’s side at UPMC Medical Center in Pittsburgh determining the best course of treatment.

She would do several rounds of pinpointed radiation to shrink the tumor before they would go in and remove it. It would all be followed up with some intense chemotherapy. The doctor told her she would more than likely lose her hair, and that it would make her extremely weak. They could set everything up to happen in Chicago so that she wouldn’t have to leave your home.

The surgery, which took place in February and caused you to miss a few games, went very well. The two of you stayed in Pittsburgh five days before flying back on a private plane home to your children. Who didn’t seem to understand why mommy couldn’t pick them up and carry them around anymore. Your parents and (Y/N)’s were godsends, as (Y/N) insisted you go back to hockey. You hated being away from her, though with every day that past you could see her strength building up. That was until the chemotherapy started.

There were to be six to eight rounds of chemotherapy that (Y/N) was going to have to take. They would fall in four-week intervals. You were there the day she got her first one. It took over eight hours for her to receive the treatment through her port that the surgeon had put in. She seemed to take it really well or so you thought until you found her hunched over the toilet a couple days later throwing up. She tried to shake it off, act like it was nothing new, telling you it was just like being pregnant again, but you knew better. You could hear the tremble in her voice, see the tears she fought so hard to hold back, while you held back your own. You’d give anything to take this pain away from her, but you couldn’t.

It wasn’t until round three that her hair started falling out in clumps. She was sitting at the breakfast table, the kids at her parents when she brushed it back to pull it out of her face. Strands of hair covered her fingers, a look of horror covering her face. “It’s ok baby, we knew this would happen.”

She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat. “I just thought that I made it this far with it, that maybe they were wrong.” You were at her side in a minute, holding her as she started to shake from head to toe.

“Let it out (Y/N). It’s ok to be sad or mad or anything. I’m right here.” It was the first time that she’d cried about it, at least in front of you.

“It’s not fair Jon,” she sobbed into your chest. “I want to be there to watch my kids grow up.”

“And you will, mon amour. We’re going to fight this every step of the way.” She cried for a solid hour, as you held back tears of your own, telling her in a calming voice that she was going to beat this. All the while being scared as hell that she might not.

Later that day, you helped her shave every strand of hair from her head. It was the hardest thing you’d had to do in your life. You’d rather take a ninety mile an hour puck to your face then to see your wife this broken and defeated. In the end, she took a deep breath as she looked herself in the mirror, eyes still glassy from tears. “You will not beat me,” she told her reflection, then looked at your reflection. “I will fight this with every breath I have.” Your lip trembled as you fought back the river of tears that threatened to spill over at her strength. Your wife was a fighter, and you knew she would conquer this disease and you’d be beside her every step of the way.

That summer you spent every available second with (Y/N) and the kids. Treatments became a normal part of your routine. The problem was with everyone, you saw your wife getting weaker and weaker. She was practically skin and bones, even though she would force herself to eat. When she took her final round of chemotherapy in October, you breathed a sigh of relief. The doctors said they wouldn’t know if the chemo had worked for a few weeks and so you waited. Praying every night that her cancer was gone once and for all, and your wife would no longer have to suffer.

A month later, you were back in Pittsburgh, sitting in front of the doctor who held your entire fate in his hands. “I’m afraid it’s not good news,” he started to say, and your face drained, while (Y/N) gripped your hand tightly. “The chemotherapy hasn’t responded as we’d like.” Everything he said after that was a garbled mess. Your mind clouded over and there was a loud ringing in your ears. You wanted to grab this man by the throat and tell him to make your wife better. That was his job, wasn’t it? He was supposed to heal people, and damn it he should’ve done that for (Y/N). “I’m not giving up hope yet.” It was those words that finally drug you out of the blinding rage that was coursing through your veins. He proceeded to say that there was an experimental drug and that they had no way of knowing if it would work, but it might be something the two of you would be interested in trying. He handed you a bunch of paperwork to go home and read before making any decisions.

“I think you should take it,” you told her the minute you got in the car.

“Maybe we should read what he gave us first.”

“It doesn’t matter what that says (Y/N) if it means that you get to stay here with me and the kids; I think we should do it.”

“It’s not a 'we’ Jon. It’s me who has to do this. What if it has some long-term effects or…” she started to list scenarios, that meant nothing to you.

“The only long-term thing here is that you’re dead. Do you want that? Because I don’t.” You were yelling at her, and you didn’t want to, but couldn’t she see that this drug was your only option. “I need you (Y/N). The kids need you.” This time you couldn’t hold back the tears as they started to fall hard and fast down your cheeks. “Damn it, I love you and I’m not willing to lose you. Do you understand me?”

You could barely see her swallow hard as tears flooded your vision, and while you knew you needed to be strong for her; you were finally breaking. “Ok,” she whispered softly, and you grabbed her holding her to your body as close as you could with the console in the middle of the car. “I’ll do it.”

“You will?” you mumbled into the crook of her neck. You could feel the dampness of her shirt from your tears but all that mattered was that she agreed to take the treatment.

“Yes,” she answered pulling you back so she could look in your eyes. “I’d do anything for you, my love.” You kissed her then pouring every ounce of love you had for her into it.

The following day, after reading through all the paperwork, (Y/N) called the doctor and got set up to take the new drug. Once you were back in Chicago, she started treatments right away. The drug was aggressive, even more so than her first round of chemotherapy and within two weeks she wound up in the hospital, her immune system so compromised that you had to suit up in a gown and mask every time you went to see her. The kids weren’t allowed in, which killed her, but you had them facetime her every day.

As Christmas grew near your spirits were low. (Y/N) insisted that you put up all the decorations just as you had every year. She ordered the kids’ gifts online so that they wouldn’t miss out on a single thing. Her only term for taking the new treatment was that you continue to play hockey. Her parents stepped up and watched the kids while you were away. You were just returning home from a road trip, about a week before Christmas when you stopped in at the hospital to see (Y/N) before heading home. When you walked into her room, you barely recognized her. Her frail form looked almost lifeless as she lay in the hospital bed, so much so that you had to check the rise and fall of her chest to make sure she was still breathing. Thankfully she was.

“Salut mon amour,” you said in a soft gentle voice, wanting her to know that you were there but at the same time not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. She turned her head to the side to see you, a weak smile gracing her chapped lips.

A scratchy “hi,” was all she was able to muster back. You took your gloved hand and held hers in it. God, what you wouldn’t give to just touch her skin and feel her once again. But since you couldn’t, you stroked your thumb back and forth over her palm, hoping that she could somehow draw from your strength.

“How are you feeling today?”

The smile dropped, and so did your heart. “I don’t think this is working Jon.” It was too soon to tell. Even the doctors had said that. She just needed to hang on, give the drug more time to work. “I think we need to start preparing for the worst.” Her hand squeezed yours, whether it was for support or to support you, you weren’t sure.

“No, baby, I’m not ready for you to give up yet.”

“I know Jon, and I’m fighting I really am. But it’s just so hard…Hard to breathe…Hard to move. I don’t feel like me anymore.” A tear slipped out and though you had a glove on your hand, you reached up and wiped it away.

“You’ve just gotta fight (Y/N). You’ve got to do it for Levi, and Lizzie, and god baby please do it for me.” You were begging now, both her and god. You couldn’t lose her, you weren’t ready to live your life without her yet.

“I will my love…..but Jon, there may come a day when I can’t fight anymore and I need you to support me on that.” You knew what she was talking about, that if the doctors wanted to put her on a ventilator, she didn’t want that. Though if it could save her…you weren’t sure you could follow her wishes.

You nodded your head not willing to put in words something you couldn’t promise just yet. You stayed there with her for a while; until she basically kicked you and told you to go home and get some sleep. The moment you walked in the door of your house, you screamed in anger. There were all the decorations that (Y/N) made you hang with the kids and you hated every one of them. They were torturous reminders that your wife wasn’t there this Christmas, that she couldn’t be with you and the kids. You grabbed the strand of garland that hung on the archway into the living room and ripped it down, throwing the ball of mistletoe across the room. It felt good, and so you tore down some more, just letting all your anger and frustrations out. It was a side of you that hardly ever came out even on the ice. Oh, you’d definitely dropped the gloves a time or two but only when someone really deserved it. Only now there was no one to fight. It was a disease and you couldn’t throw it up against the boards or punch it in the jaw. So instead, you took it out on the decorations. Every wreath that hung on the wall you ripped it apart with your bare hands. Every Santa figurine that sat on the table, you smashed against the floor. You were just about the tear the stockings off the fireplace when you stopped. It was seeing your wife’s name knitted into the fabric that got you and instead you carefully took it off the hook and brought it to your face as if it were her and you could simply hold her that close once again.

“Please (Y/N), please don’t leave me,” you called out to the void that was your house, as you dropped to your knees, tears freely flowing down your face. It was all too much. You’d finally reached that breaking point and just laid on the flooring sobbing and praying to God to save your wife. It was the only Christmas wish you had. Sure, you’d prayed when you were younger asking god to make you a better hockey player and then that you would be drafted in the NHL, but never in your life had you wanted anything like you wanted this, for your wife to be fine, for her to live a happy healthy life with you and your children. You’d trade everything you had if you could.

At some point, you picked yourself up and looked at the disaster that you’d made in what was once a storybook Christmas home. (Y/N) would be so disappointed in what you had done, not to the house, but to the mess that your kids would walk into when they would come home. You cleaned up the broken shards of glass, restrung the garland, and tried to salvage what you could of the other decorations you’d destroyed yet somehow the house still seemed to be missing something. There were tons of extra decorations in the closet, as your wife seemed to always buy more and more every year, well you couldn’t really blame (Y/N) as you tended to help as well. So, you dragged yourself upstairs to see what else might try and make the place a bit more festive.

It was in rummaging through the closet that you stumbled upon it. It was a simple container, not very big with the word “Love,” written in script on the top. You peered inside and were stunned to find dozens of envelopes, each marked with either yours or your children’s name on them. It was then that you realized they were goodbye letters from your wife, as some were addressed to Levi and Lizzie on their eighteenth birthdays or their graduations. There was even one for each of them on their wedding day. A gasp left your mouth at the realization that she didn’t plan on being around for any of these occasions. You weren’t sure what hurt more, the fact that she was giving up or that you’d be facing a life without her.

All that anger and hurt from moments ago came surfacing back and you had the urge to punch your fist through the wall this time, though you fought it for the sake of your kids. Flipping through the envelopes you saw different ones with your name on them. You picked up the one that was on top of the pile marked 'To Jon on Christmas Eve.’ It was heavier than what you thought and you realized that it wasn’t a letter but a video. Taking the box, you headed downstairs to see what your wife had to say.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be watching this, as you hit the play button on the remote control, yet you couldn’t stop yourself. Maybe there would be something on here that could help you convince her to fight harder. It took a second for (Y/N) to come on the screen. She looked weak, yet still as beautiful as ever as she sat in the chair up in your bedroom. Her wig was on, probably in hopes that you’d remember her like she once was and not the sickly cancer patient she feared everyone saw.

“Bonjour, mon amour.” God, you loved how she spoke French to you. She’d been so earnest in her studies those early days and now was rather good at it. “I’m not sure where to start with this. I want you to know that this is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I hope that you’re watching this after the kids’ are in bed and you’ve put all the presents under the tree. God, how I’ll miss doing that with you, but I know that you will make this Christmas and every one after special for our two little angels. They are so lucky to have a dad like you, just like I was so lucky to have you as my husband.” Tears were streaming down (Y/N)’s face as she spoke to you on the screen, just as they were flooding your eyes.

“I love you so much,” she swallowed hard, the movement visible as her body was frail. “Even more than I love Christmas.” It was a small attempt at humor on her part, and you wish that you could smile at it, but at the moment all you had were tears of sadness. “Remember that first Christmas when we bought the tree topper together. You told me then that I was your angel. Well, now I truly am. I hope that when you place her on top of the tree, you’ll know that I’m smiling down at you and our babies.” Your eyes automatically went to the angel on the tree. Her soft smiling eyes shining right into yours. A sob broke from you then, as you realized how much the angel looked like your wife. She had the same eyes, the same hair, and the same soft easy smile that melted your heart.

“I’m going to miss this time of year with you; the laughter, the joy, the mistletoe. It was always my favorite season with you, though you made everyday special.” You knew how she felt, for you had a feeling you’d miss her most at Christmas time. “Jon, I’d give anything to be with you right now. Just know that if I had to do it all again, I would. I’d go through every treatment, every needle, every single bit of it, if it meant one more Christmas with you…hell, even if it was one more day with you.” She wiped away the tears then, visibly collecting herself to continue on with what she had to say.

“But I want you to be happy, Jon. I want you to love again. I want you to find joy in not only Christmas but every day, even if I’m not there. And I can see you sitting there, shaking your head and telling me it’s not going to happen, and maybe it won’t tomorrow or the next day, but I hope it does someday. I love you too much to not want you to love again. Be happy, you deserve it.” You weren’t sure how she could ask this of you, there was no way that it would ever happen if she wasn’t in your life.

“Bumping into you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the best thing to happen to me, Jonathan Toews and for that I thank you. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend, husband, or father. You will always be the love of my life…and what a life we had.” There was still more of it to be had, you just knew there had to be. “I love you, Jon. Merry Christmas, my love.” It took another second and then the screen went blank.

“I love you, (Y/N),” you whispered up the angel smiling down at you. Tears clouded your vision until all the lights just seemed to melt into one giant one. This was not how things were meant to end. You laid your head back against the sofa and closed your eyes and just prayed. Even though you’d just done that hours ago, you asked God to do the impossible, to give you a Christmas miracle.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep, for you woke up sometime later to a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Jon, sweetie, wake up, my love.” You could swear that was your wife’s voice. It took your eyes a minute to regain focus, but it was your wife standing over you, in Christmas pajamas, her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her hair, you thought vaguely, not some wig because she’d lost all hers, and she looked healthy, strong in fact.

“You’re here? You’re ok,” you said jumping up and running your hands down her arms.

Her smile told you then that it hadn’t been a dream like you thought, and you looked over to the screen on the tv, to see the Christmas message she’d sent you back up on the screen. “You were watching it again, weren’t you?” she asked.

You had to shake yourself to get the cobwebs out of your brain. It was six years ago that you found the video, though you’ve replayed it every year since. That first time watching it you’d wanted to run to the hospital and shake some sense into your wife, but something stopped you. Maybe deep down you knew she had never truly given up, for she had called you Christmas Eve saying that she was feeling much better. The kids had gotten to see her on Christmas day, though there were still precautions taken. It was a week later that she was home and with you as her strength continually improved. She grew stronger every day after that as well. It was months later that her cancer was declared gone by the doctors, the new treatment having saved her life and yours in the process. She was a survivor and you thanked God every day for giving you that miracle you’d asked for so long ago. “I still don’t know how you found them,” she said to you. “Or why you continue to watch that video every year.”

“I watch it because it reminds me of how close I was to losing you.” Your arms encircled her waist now, drawing her closer to you. “And how magical the Christmas season is as it brought you back to me.” You gazed into her loving eyes, yours shining with that same love you saw in hers. “And to hold you a little tighter each day.” You did exactly as you said, squeezing her so that no space was between either of you, before dropping a kiss to her lips.

“I’m not sure it was the Christmas season that helped me find the strength to fight. I’m pretty sure it was you, Mr. Toews.” Her lips found yours in a soul-stealing kiss, as she poured all her love for you into it.

You maneuvered the two of you under the archway where the sprig of mistletoe always hung. “Well, Mrs. Toews, Christmas will always be my favorite time of year, though I treasure every day with you. Joyeux Noel, mon amour.”

“Merry Christmas, Jon.”  

[hopeassassin]

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive. 

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out!  Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D 

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there! 

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D 

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious  individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D 

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you... 

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Something Seams Off || Irene and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to Irene to repair his jacket and they have a snicker-snacker of a time. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Kaden ran his hands along the leather jacket as he watched the signs of the stores along the street. He didn’t want to miss the repair shop. Clothing wasn’t usually precious to him. It couldn’t be, not as a hunter. Sure, he had to scrounge and save for new clothing back in the day, but any shirt or pants could get destroyed in the wrong monster fight. The best thing to do was usually patch it best as he could for as long as he could before tossing it aside for something else decent. But the leather jacket in his grip was different. This was a gift. Kaden had precious few gifts in his life that he held onto, at least not prior to coming to White Crest. Either way, if anything was worth taking care of, it was the jacket Blanche had given him. To the point he was careful not to wear it on hunts, at least not often. Sometimes it was hard to avoid. Still, he couldn't figure out where some of the holes in the piece were coming from. It didn’t make sense. Definitely beyond his skills to repair. Time to try a professional for once. He gulped before swinging the door open. He had to remember whatever the price, he was fine, he could afford it. Old habits were hard to break. “Hello?” he called out. “Uh, got a jacket that needs fixing. This is the place, right?”

After the online interaction with the owner of the leather shop, Irene was quick to research some tips on how to better mend leatherwork. Since it wasn’t her typical area of expertise, she wanted to improve on it in the event she had customers seeking that specific service. Scattered across her table were scrap pieces of leather she had practiced her stitching. Several of her poor needles already set aside and bent at odd angles. Just then, the jingle of the door chimes caused her to look up at the customer entering her shop. With a warm smile, she got up from her table and walked over to the counter. “Welcome, I’m Irene, and you’re in the right place. What sort of fixing does this jacket need?” she asked, her hands gently patting on the counter indicating for him to set down the piece. Upon brief examination, it certainly appeared to be well-worn, well-appreciated.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Kaden said, awkwardly and a little stilted as he walked towards the counter. He had no idea what the protocol was in this whole exchange, it wasn’t like he’d ever done it before. Thankfully she took the lead and indicated where to place the jacket so after giving her a slightly startled look, he did just that. Right. Made sense, she had to look at it after all. “Uh, there are some holes in it. Weird spots. I don’t think I made them.” Then again, he got so many injuries and brushed up against so many various fangs, claws, and pincers it was hard to keep track of the damage after a while. “Not that I-- I mean, I work in animal control. With the WCPD. Uh, Officer Langley.” Which probably didn't matter. Why the fuck was he introducing himself? And why was he nervous about a damn jacket repair? “You probably didn’t need to know that or care. Just, yeah. Weird holes. Does it… You think you can fix this? Not to-- I just don’t know what can and can’t be saved. Usually don’t try.”

Irene’s expert hands were quick to search typical areas where jackets typically formed holes. The seams didn’t seem to be split but with some of the holes, she likely would have to reline a couple of spots so that any fixing wouldn’t look like a patch job. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to study the jacket. “Overall, this looks like it’s in good condition, but the holes are… a little strange,” she noted aloud. “Like you said, definitely in some strange places. If this were a weather or cotton piece, I’d say maybe moths or something, but I’m a bit at a loss as to the cause.” Straightening up, she let out a small sigh and another smile. After all, her job wasn’t to determine what caused this but rather how she would fix it. “Well, Officer Langley, this probably will take me about a week. I think I have similar thread and fabric to fix this up, though once I’m done, it’ll look brand new.” It was clear this jacket meant a lot to him; the stress emanating from him was hitting Irene like a wall of bricks, so she hoped her words could offer some relief. “And I could offer you a rough estimate as well if you’re interested.”

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the woman work through what was going on with his jacket. Putain, he wasn’t normally this nervous about simple human interactions. Something about it being new, unknown, it left him unsure. “Yeah I didn’t think moths would go for leather, but a brow--” Merde. He caught himself before he started talking about fae and monsters. Barely. “I mean, yeah probably not moths.” He felt his stupid heart pounding in his chest over a stupid conversation with a seamstress. The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he shouldn’t quit hunting. He clearly couldn’t handle normalcy. “A week? Is that-- I mean, sounds good. I’m not sure how long this would normally take. I’ve never had anything repaired before. I normally just throw away things once they get damaged but I guess if I did that you wouldn’t have any business so anyway this is, uh, new. For me.” He was certain she could tell without him saying shit. Her next assurance had him even more wide eyed. Shit, was he really that obvious? He didn’t think he looked poor. He didn’t right? Fuck, maybe he did. “A rough estimate? Oh. Yeah. That’d be good. To know. If you--” His brow furrowed as he cut his sentence short once more. This time it wasn’t just him not knowing how to speak like a normal person. Something was moving. His brows knit together as he looked closer at the jacket. “You’re not…” His eyes darted back up to her. Her hands were in fact not underneath the jacket. And yet it was wiggling. “That’s not you moving it, is it?”

Irene could feel the intensity of his emotions grow despite her telling him that the jacket could be fixed. Was something else worrying him? In the past, she had worked with clients who held incredible sentimental value to their clothing articles. Perhaps this was one of those instances. With a warm smile, she looked across the counter at the man. “This jacket must mean a lot to you if you’re bringing this in for extra care. I assure you that your jacket is in great hands with me, officer. You’re doing great,” she added lightly with a small chuckle. Grabbing a notepad and a pen, she scribbled a few quick notes about the current condition of the leather jacket and the exact fixes the officer was requesting. That helped her approximate the cost. Just as she was about to write out an estimate, his question caught her by surprise. “Hm? N-no, what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes instantly darting to the jacket to see brief movement. Shoot, did her shop have mice or rodents? “Oh goodness!” Without thinking, she lifted the jacket up, expecting to find some sort of critter there only to spot something… not quite exactly that or anything she had seen before. “What--” she jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide after she immediately dropped the jacket back down.

Kaden nodded a little along with her words. “I mean, sure it, uh, I like it and all. But it’s not that important.” Putain, why did he say that? What if that meant she was less careful with it now that she thought he didn’t care? “Not that-- I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Fuck, what if she was fae? And he just thanked her. And why did she have to reassure him that he was doing fine with a basic social interaction. Sadly, his ineptitude wasn’t the biggest disaster in the room. When she moved the jacket, out hopped a small rodent looking creature. Only it wasn’t a mouse or rat, no no. That was a snicker-snacker. No missing it. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself. “No wonder there were holes.” Out of instinct, Kaden reached for his knife in his back pocket, but his hand hovered and hesitated. Just long enough for the supernatural rodent to scutter off. Shit. But he couldn’t just stab the snicker-snacker right in front of her in her shop. He wasn’t the most experienced with social norms, but he was pretty fucking sure destroying shops with knives was frowned upon. He twisted and turned looking to see if he could find the creature. “Must have been in the jacket. Not sure how I missed that.” Had to have crawled in one night when he was hunting. At least he hoped that was the case. If he had an infestation in his apartment, well, he didn’t want to think about the destruction waiting for him at home. “Did you see where it-- there!” he shouted as he leapt towards a corner of the store, diving onto the floor, trying to clasp the rodent with his bare hands. It skittered just out of reach, running to the other side. Shit. He had to get it or else it could be bad news for her shop. It had definitely gone to the left. Only, when he glanced to the right, he saw it there, too. No, not the original one. There were two. “Uh. Think you’ve got a problem here,” he told her, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

If the rodent-looking creature scared Irene, the man pulling out a knife immediately caused the seamstress to shriek out of surprise and fear. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the thing that jumped off her counter and was not running around her shop. With wide eyes, she pulled her gaze back to the man as she tried to process just what had happened. Irene wasn’t normally one for any sort of judgment, but yes, how had this man conveniently not realize that something like that was burrowing his jacket? Before she could even respond, Irene toward the floor as the creature skittered across her feet to the man’s left. Another yelp escaped her lips as she jumped back in surprise. It was one thing for rodents to be scampering around, but she will not have them messing up her shop. Trying to think quickly, Irene grabbed a broom from the corner and glanced to the right and saw… another one. Confusion etched across her face. “Oh no…” she muttered quietly as she slowly raised her broom. Was this her weapon now or a poor decision of a shield? Who knew. “What are those?” she asked in a soft voice, hoping not to startle these creatures with any sudden noise.

This was a problem. One snicker-snacker was bad news. Two were exponentially worse. And for all they knew, there were more than even that. Kaden started to listen and look for any more signs of them, trying to keep his steps quiet as he ducked down to look at any and every corner. “Snicker--” He paused before finishing his answer. Saying “snicker-snackers” was going to make him sound like he was out of his mind, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t exactly keeping the supernatural a secret at that point either. Putain. “Uh, rodents. Mutated mice. I think.” That worked, right? “They’ll eat through just about anything so be careful.” This whole shop would be in bad shape if an infestation broke out. All the clothes and fabric would never last. He glanced over to see how she was holding up. Broom wasn’t a bad idea on her part. Shit, if only he had his work kit. No nets or cages on him now, unfortunately. “Got anything to trap them with? A basket. A bowl. Anything?” He saw a jar full of pins. This was a terrible idea. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself as he dumped the pins as carefully as he could manage onto the table he picked the jar up off of. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I mean looks like it’ll work.” He caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eyes and leapt towards it, jar in hand. “Sweep it towards me! Corner it”

Irene watched the man move around expertly ready to attack. She clutched the broom tighter against her chest as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Snicker? Like--what, like the candy?” she asked incredulously. Her brow knitted tightly as she tried to keep an eye on even just one of these creatures. “Mutated mice. Wonderful. Thank you evolution,” she muttered under her breath as she took slow, quiet steps through her shop. Rodents weren’t something she was scared of; hell, she’d seen her fair share of very brave rats in New York. This? This should be a piece of cake, though she had no idea what sort of advantages these mutations gave these rodents. Her eyes quickly scanned the room in response to his request. “Uh… how’s this? Wait!” she called out, unable to find a suitable container before the pins were spilled out. Great. But she had little time to process that before she also caught sight of a dashing blur past her. Instinctively, she swept broadly with the broom, the bristles making contact with something, and a loud squeak seemed to indicate she must have caught the rodent. “Coming your way!” she called out as she made one swift broom push toward the man. “Well, that has to be one, right? Is that it?”

“Uh, sort of,” Kaden started. With how often he ran into the supernatural in this town, it was hard to remember how few of the residents actually were in the know. Code said to keep shit secret, he needed to try a little harder. As he dove, he slammed the lar over top of where he’d seen the blur. Only to catch something just to the left of him. Shit. He reached out with the jar again as she swept the lump towards him, capturing the creature underneath. “Got it!” he shouted, keeping both hands on top of the small jar, just in case. There was a sound of something splitting behind him. Putain. He kept one hand on the jar as he twisted to try and look behind him. A table leg had snapped in two and he was certain if they didn’t hurry, there might be less than three legs there. “Shit, shit, shit.” He was making a real fucking great impression here. He had to let go of the jar to get over to the other one. “Uh, do you have a book? Or a weight? Or something? And one more--” He paused. “Maybe two more jars. Just in case.”

Irene's stress levels increased, both from wanting these creatures out of her shop and from the fact that this whole instance was creating a giant mess of her shop. Had these things always been around this entire time? A hazard of her work she never considered before? As the man dove down, Irene held her breath until she saw that he had managed to catch something. “B-book? Um, goodness, I have uh I have a couple of binders of fabric swatches,” she said, frantically reaching for these from the desk in the back. And jars. Her eyes looked for a few more of those, all filled with things like thread scraps or buttons. The priorities now though was definitely in capturing these creatures, so she poured the contents out into an empty box and quickly returned to the man. And then she saw the cracked leg on her table. Oh goodness why was this happening. “I hate to bombard a customer with orders, but please get these things out of here before the rest of my shop is destroyed,” she pleaded.

This was not the first impression Kaden had planned to make. Granted, he didn’t start off on the best foot so guess he didn’t have much to lose. He’d shifted and let his foot rest on the jar while she went to grab more supplies to trap the creatures, untrusting of what would happen if he left it unweighted. He didn’t want to find out if the snicker-snacker could topple over the glass. At least it couldn’t eat it. Well, it shouldn’t at least. It wasn’t exactly wood or fiber. He looked down. Floors should be safe, too. Right, better get them out quickly. “Thanks,” he said, taking the book and the jars from her. He dumped the book on top of the makeshift snicker-snacker trap and hoped like hell it was enough to keep it there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the little pest run up and back towards his jacket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, diving towards it and yanking it away off the counter. The mutant mouse went spinning and flying in the air as the rug was pulled out from under it, but landed on its feet and scurried off. Merde. He’d have to be more careful.

Jars in hand and ready to pounce, Kaden tried to move quietly around to the back of the counter to see if it had landed back there. A flash of fur and horns darted out, squealing towards the table with three legs. “Not today, you little bastard,” Kaden said as he threw himself at the table, crashing into it, causing all sorts of odds and ends to go flying and clattering to the floor as he wrestled to get the jar on top of the creature. All he got was a spool of thread. Good thing she’d handed him two jars. He reached out with his left hand and slammed the glass down, praying he didn’t break it with his hunter strength and heard a squeal as the tail wriggled out from underneath the lip. If it were a mouse or a rat, he might feel a ping of remorse. But a snicker-snacker? He dug the jar down to the floor a little harder before the tail snaked its way back under the container with another squeal. “Got it,” he said, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the floor.

Irene watched with astonishment as the man moved so expertly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the now-occupied jar and the precarious situation of her table. “Sure…” was all she managed to respond. With her hands now empty and the man chasing after the other “mutant rodents,” Irene’s attention honed onto the jar. She could hear the skittering of the creature, sounds of tiny claws scraping against the glass in an attempt to escape. Leaning down onto her hands and knees, Irene took a peek at the rodent inside, this snicker thing, and let out a small gasp. It looked like a mouse or a hamster but with horns. What the heck was in the White Crest water that mutated the rodents into something like this? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden slam from the man, the sound of another jar crashing onto the ground and securing another creature in its confines. “O-okay, what do we do now? I mean, are we supposed to let these go out in the wild? Is there animal control for something like this?” And how dangerous were these things? So many questions ran through her head. Then her face paled lightly at the next thought. Did these need to be exterminated? Despite the trouble they brought, the idea soured her stomach.

Kaden brushed off his pants and arms after standing and taking a look at the chaos around the room. Putain. Not how he intended this to go. Couldn’t even have a simple interaction in a store in this goddamn town. “Lucky for you, I am animal control. Obviously not on duty right this second. Or else, you know, I’d be prepared.” He sighed and pushed his hair back into place. “They’re pretty destructive, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the poor table. Shit. “Uh, I can, pay for that, by the way. I sorta brought them here.” No clue how he was affording that but tables couldn’t cost that much, right? Shit. “Reproduce exceptionally fast, too.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the worst part. People already had bad takes on animal control half the time. He’d been called an animal killer too many times for his liking. And it’s not like he could tell her these were clearly monsters and out himself. No one liked to hear about dead animals and he couldn’t blame them. But these weren’t sweet little mice, these were pests. Abominations. Capable of destroying full houses if left to their own devices. “For now, I’ll take them out of here. They’re definitely not adoptable, though. I’ll do a relocation out in the woods, though.” He hoped she would buy it. There was no way he was going to chance a snicker-snacker infestation in town.

It was the sudden calmness that stressed Irene out even more. Was this it? Were all of them caught in her jars? “You? You’re animal control?” Had he said that earlier before all of this happened? She couldn’t recall. A hand ran through her hair, the other hand almost resting against her damaged table before she spotted the broken leg. She quickly pulled back and sighed. At least that table was a hand-me-down from the previous tenant of the shop, and Irene had been hoping to upgrade to a more customized work surface. “Um, yea, th-thanks, I think,” she said mindlessly, unable to fully assess the severity of these creatures. “Like rabbits. Or rats. And I thought New York rats were damaging,” she muttered to herself. How did those things even scurry onto him and into her shop? “Right, your jacket though. If uh if you still wanted that mended, I can still take that on but I might need more time now because…” her voice trailed as she gestured to her mess of a space.

“Officer Langley, yeah. That’s me. Animal control.” Kaden almost felt like he should apologize for that fact. Almost. He did catch them, after all. “But yeah, like rabbits or rats. Only they’ll eat through your table legs. Uh, anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get something more appropriate to transport them and come back.” He’d make sure  to bring a knife with him, too. Maybe a few extra cages in case more of them showed up in the interim. He was about to turn and walk out when his eyes shot back to the jacket, brows raised. Right. He almost forgot. “Oh, yeah. If you can. No rush. At all. Um, thanks, and,” he paused to look around the room, “sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

[rokutouxei]

brilliance

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark isaac newton / mc | G | 1762 | ao3 link in bio

The thought strikes you as you’re standing in Isaac’s room, helping him sort himself into his professor’s robe, the one he still fidgets in no matter how long he’s taught at the university, no matter how much he’s proven to be worthy of what the garment means.

Isaac staring quietly at you with his cherry-blossom eyes, sharp and smart; you’re fixing up his tie from below. The tuft of brown hair he tugs at when he’s nervous frames the side of his face. His adorable face: partly seeming crafted, created into perfection, the curve of his jaw, the set of his eyebrows; and partly born of the universe, the little freckles on the tops of his cheeks, the way he smiles a little lopsidedly if you look close enough—

You come to the realization that next to Isaac, you are awfully—almost embarrassingly—plain.

You try not to focus on it too much, but it takes over all rational thought without much grace. Staring at yourself in front of the mirror at the la thermae, you spend a few extra minutes cringing at your reflection. Unlike him, you weren’t exactly one that would be called a “natural beauty.” Sure, your features are a little different from what is to be expected from a 19th century Frenchwoman—and you like to think that’s a plus—but you were otherwise… pretty normal, and at best nondescript. Definitely, not the kind of face one remembers, not the one that lingers in one’s memory after having seen it in passing. You could make up for it with your clothes, as Le Comte is as generous as it gets when it comes to providing for you the most in-fashion of clothing, but there’s only so much that fabric can do, too. In this century… dressing sharp is average.

And your smarts won’t necessarily save you either. You weren’t an idiot—or at least you like to think so—but you were far from a genius, nothing as extraordinary as the rest of the mansion residents are, at least. (Or maybe just for now. Who knows?) Sure, maybe you know just a smidgen more than the rest of them about the new technologies that are to develop in the next hundred years—you can only imagine what it would be like having a conversation with Jean about smart home appliances—but beyond that, you were hardly a master of anything. For sure you’ve got your niche interests and knowledge, but—

After that, you’re not really anyone special.

Your heart twinges at the mere thought of it.

You are nothing but just painfully average.

And Isaac is brilliance personified.

-

It is a three-step process.

Well, it’s a never-ending process, really, in your head, knowing you will spend much of your life compensating, but for now, you decide on three specific things you feel like you can improve yourself on, for Isaac’s sake.

You make a bee-line to the kitchen the next morning, right on time for breakfast.

After you and Isaac got together, you started to spend more and more time with him instead of working all your hours at the mansion with Sebastian. The butler didn’t mind, of course, and neither did Le Comte. Breakfast duty was one of the things you usually now missed, in preference of staying in bed with Isaac a little longer. The kitchen is Sebastian’s domain anyway; you really preferred just working as a sort of sous chef, or really just an extra pair of hands.

So when you approached him to ask him for a favor, to give you some tips and tricks on cooking better, he looked you up and down with a calculating gaze you could feel pass right through you.

Sebastian is skilled with both spices and knives. That, matched with his little schtick of being a disciplinarian, you’d really rather not, but—

“For Sir Isaac, perhaps?” he asks, turning around to spare you his gaze.

You pout in indignation. “A-and if it is?”

“No need for embarrassment, it’s a good effort.”

He hands you a little notebook to write your newly-learned recipes in. Phase one, check.

The next is a little more complicated.

Isaac isn’t the most graceful dancer in the mansion, and he will always say how he doesn’t enjoy it, but you’ve caught his expression on the days you went out on a ball night with him for this event or that. You know that he has—if not enjoyment—a fascination for the dancing, at the very least. What better way to make him enjoy it a little bit more than getting better at it? Surely, the experience would be a lot smoother if you weren’t constantly tripping over your feet the entire time.

And sure, both of you have had some dance practice experience with each other, but—

“It’ll be my pleasure, ma cherie,” Le Comte says, that ever-knowing smile painted on his face. You know with that expression that he wants to tease; wants to force you to admit that you’re doing it for your lover. But even if he doesn’t, the flush rises to your cheeks undeniably, anyway.

Le Comte leads the dance confidently as he always does, laughing politely every time you step on his feet. The music sways the both of you. He compliments you on how well you’ve unraveled Isaac to be a little more confident. Says maybe you should teach him as well; you answer that learning together is one of the most fun things to do with your beloved. Phase two, check.

And lastly…

You go to the library, the shelves ordered in a way you’ve long memorized, and pull out an old copy of a book you would not have dared read cover to cover if you were still in the present. …or future. In the 21st century. You’ve gotten permission from Le Comte to use it as you please, and you’ve gone ahead and sharpened the few pencils you’ve found laying around. The book is heavy and daunting, and it doesn’t look friendly at all, but you carry the volume anyway, heading off to your room with an unmatchable determination.

For Isaac, you tell yourself, I have to be worthy of Isaac.

-

Isaac doesn’t know when it started, but he’s definitely noticed that you’ve been a little busier lately. Always spending time in the kitchen, always excusing yourself out of his room to do “a chore” when usually you’d rather be spending time with him doing… well, even nothing, really. It makes him suspicious—the familiar gnawing of insecurity inside his chest—but he doesn’t not trust you, so he does not bring it up whenever the two of you talk, does not make it obvious that he knows something is up.

He does keep his eyes peeled though.

Catches you in the middle of the night in the kitchen, gathering the ingredients together for what you’ll bring as lunch the next day; a little notebook with scribbles in your hand as you’re measuring this and that, laying them out on the counter neatly. Spots you in the library in between the bookshelves, crouched, and running your fingers gently over the books’ delicate spines. Hears from the ever-gossipy Arthur that you’ve been spending afternoons in Le Comte’s room being tutored for dancing—that makes him just a tiny bit jealous.

But it doesn’t click.

At least, not until he catches you in your bedroom, head curled forward onto your arms on the desk, a new copy of Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica serving as your rather uncomfortable pillow. There’s the tiniest sound of your snoring. A pencil has rolled off of your desk onto the floor, and he can catch the vaguest of scribbling on the book’s pages, little notes in your neat handwriting.

His heart squeezes in his chest near painfully.

He can be oblivious, but not tonight. He knows that if you really wanted to learn about physics, you would have asked him—the way you’re always grasping curiously at the world, the way that leaves him floored. And he would have taught you, poured hours in the evenings going over laws and theories until you were satisfied.

But this isn’t about physics.

He brushes off the stray lock of hair that had fallen over your face, tucking it behind your ear. Isaac knows just how much you mean to him, is fully aware of the space you occupy in his heart, even if sometimes even he is surprised by it. But his anxieties bite at the corner of his mind whenever he thinks about the opposite; about you; about how you feel for him; about the unevenness. His third law of motion asserts that when two objects interact, they apply forces to each other of equal, opposite magnitude—but does that apply to things like these? If they do, and if you are always giving and giving and giving so much—how ever will he give back?

When you’re giving him the universe, what else can he provide in return?

Isaac is not good with his words, not in the way he wishes he were. His head is always all computations and mechanisms, all science and never the kind of lovely things he knows are always in yours. He knows he is doomed for the rest of his life searching for the right words to tell you the things he feels.

Tonight, he’ll spend the next few hours watching you sleep, patching words together like a one-year-old still trying to learn how to use language to tell you that you do not need to be anything more. You can have two left feet forever and he will still dance with you. You can burn everything you make him and he will still eat it with much delight. And physics and math can stop making sense forever and he will still know you.

That he loves you.

You are enough and have always been enough. And sure, his life may have fallen off-center, not the boring, static equilibrium now that he’s with you—but the world has always been in some sort of chaos. That, he knows. That, science knows. And he’d gladly be in chaos if it means he gets to spend his life with you.

When you wake up, he’ll tell you. For now, there is only the resulting, opposite force of you loving him with all you can do—one he collapses into a small forehead kiss, lifting you up in his arms, carrying you off to his bed.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #3: Prism of White

Words: ca. 5,200 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: No CW: none

Light filtered through the window casting the room in a golden glow. Papers lay crumpled and torn on the coffee table and the floor beneath. Anna tossed her sketchbook on the table and threw her pencil next to it. Weeks passed and she still didn’t have another good idea for her next art piece. Her hands grasped a pillow on the couch beside her. Her freckled face buried in the soft cushion, a muffled groan joining the white-noise of the television in the background.

Art had been a passion of hers ever since her stubby toddler fingers first grasped that pack of cheap crayons. Her parents laid scrap paper out in front of her at the kitchen table. The adults left the room shortly after thinking little Anna would be occupied for a little more than five minutes.  Overjoyed with all the colors in the box, now strewn over the table some rolling to the floor, little Anna picked up the green and began to scribble in swirls and loops like any child does. Her mother came back ten minutes later to check on her and grab a cup of afternoon coffee. A gasp tore from her throat and her blue eyes widened at the site. The walls had been little Anna’s first canvas.

She laughed at the memory, the sound muffled by the pillow still pressed against her face. The scolding she received after that event lost to the feeling of joy at the colors swirling around her. Back then art had been carefree and fun. Now the blank pages in her sketchbook mocked her with that textured whiteness.

Twenty-one years of sketching, painting, throwing color on canvas’ of varying degrees, making a life out of it. A dream come true. One that would have been impossible if not from the support of her friends and family. One person in particular. Elsa.

Little Elsa could light up Anna’s world by merely stepping into the room. She used to be so very timid and quiet, often opting to hide in the corner with a book than engage with the other kids her age. Anna managed to pull her into their little games anyway.

As the two grew older their interests diverged slightly. They both found joy in the arts, joining in theater at school for fun, playing and listening to music (although their tastes differed vastly at times), and studying the history behind all forms of art. A bond formed and kept them close even when one started painting and sketching while the other used words to color with.

A writer’s search history and an artist’s eye left plenty for friends to laugh and grow concerned about.

Anna lifted her head from the pillow feeling someone fiddle with her twin braids. She smiled already knowing who it was behind her.

“What are you so distressed about?” Elsa hummed out sweetly. Her  eyes swept over the paper littered around and the discarded sketchbook. “Can’t think of a good idea?”

Anna groaned again and buried her head back in the pillow. Her reply came muffled and she knew Elsa wouldn’t be able to understand a word of it. This problem she had wasn’t that much of a big deal. Anna knew that. Every artist had periods where they couldn’t draw. An artblock as she so affectionately called it. But this felt different. She had ideas. The vision of what she wanted to draw sat crystal clear in her mind’s eye, but when she picked up the pencil each stroke on the page felt weighted. She knew what she wanted to put on the paper. She hated each stroke she made and the finished result. Weeks of this and the stress of not creating made her head spin. The ride she had been on had stopped with her sitting upside down unable to do anything.

The couch dipped beside her as Elsa sat down. Pale hands pulled the pillow Anna was secretly hoping would suffocate her until freckled cheeks and a pouty lip were visible. Anna whined and reached out for the cushion. Elsa held it out of reach ignoring the dark spot where Anna drooled on it.

“Ah-Ah,” Elsa wagged her finger. Anna’s shoulder slumped forward in despair. “You can get the pillow back and resume your little, um , whatever you were doing after you tell me what’s wrong.”

Sea-green eyes lowered to the open sketchbook, a frown settled on her lips. “I - I hate everything I make and it’s driving me crazy.”

Elsa set the pillow aside and shuffled closer to Anna. She gave her knee a reassuring squeeze and gently asked, “Is it one of your artblocks?”

Anna shook her head, braids swaying. “No, this is different. I know what I want to draw, I have the motivation to draw, but I can’t seem to like what I make. I hate the finished result, even if it looks how I wanted.” Her eyes glistened with frustrated tears, “It’s been like this for weeks and I’m going insane trying to fix it.”

Elsa cupped her cheek, running her thumb soothingly over the skin. Anna nuzzled into her palm, eyes fluttering shut at the coolness of her skin. “Anna,” she opened her eyes to see an amused smirk dancing on pink lips, a glint of humor dancing in blue eyes, “is this your first burnout?”

Her whole body stilled at the question. Burnout had been something she knew her artist friends over the internet talked about. How it could hit someone suddenly or slowly creep on through the years. The former could usually be seen coming and dealt with by short breaks, but the latter often crippled careers as it snuck in through the cracks undetected and infected everything slowly like a poison. Anna gasped lightly at the realization.

The ride she had been on for the majority of her adult life (granted it had only been 3 years since she graduated high school) was fast paced and constantly moving. She did not stop or get off, only urging it to move faster and faster. The need to create and improve outweighed any thought or concern the stress her body and mind were put under. She ignored all the signs, the warnings people told her to look for and now the stress had crushed her.

“What am I gonna do?” Her voice came out broken and unsure. Burnout was a completely foreign field for her. There was no map for her, no field guide to help her navigate through this problem. People mention taking breaks and stepping away from art for awhile to recharge, but that seemed impossible. How could Anna stop creating, when all she wanted to do was create?

“Is this new project for a client?” Elsa noticed the distress on Anna’s face and dropped her hand down from her cheek to grasp shaking ones.

“No, it’s one I plan to sell, or have prints made for my shop.”

Elsa nodded, “Okay. And do you have any client work lined up for the month?”

Anna answered in the negative. She had started a new system for her works where certain months she decided not to take on any client work. It was an attempt not to be too overwhelmed working on custom pieces that allowed her the freedom to work on her own as well. The system worked fairly well until this burnout happened. At least it happened now instead of when she had to work on pieces for clients.

“Okay, okay we can definitely work with this,” she breathed out a plan already forming in her mind. She knew Anna wouldn’t take a break willingly, that wasn’t her style. She would draw and paint until her hands fell off and even then she’d learn to use her feet instead. Nothing would stop her, not even the end of the world. The complete opposite of Elsa who procrastinated her own projects till motivation was high or the deadline approached. She often wondered how they never drove each other crazy doing things so differently. Instead of finding a reason she just blamed it on love. It was better not to question it anyway.

“Anna,” she turned and faced the younger woman determinedly, prepared for protestation, “do you trust me?”

Anna cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Of course I do, silly. It’s part of why I married you.”

Elsa smiled and held her tongue to keep from commenting. That experience would be one she would never forget. She at her wife, eyes bright and said,

“Then you’ll understand what I’m about to do.”

Anna’s gut twisted in apprehension. She trusted Elsa with her life, but the twinkle in pale blue eyes told her not all of this would be a pleasant experience.

—-

“Anna, what color is the sky?”

From her position in the passenger seat of the car Anna scowled, her eyes screwed shut in a desperate attempt to fall back asleep. Elsa refused to let her in on the plan the day before, only telling her to pack a days worth of clothes and food and then promptly took all her art supplies and locked them inside a large chest. She never quite figured out why they had a large empty chest lying around and when she asked Elsa the older girl shrugged saying something about secrets.

“What.” Anna grumbled confused at the question and irritated at being woken up at three in the morning and rushed out of the house.

Elsa glanced at her from the driver’s seat. “What color is the sky?” She turned her attention back to the road, very much awake and relaxed. The half empty cup of coffee sitting in the cup holder helped.

“What kind of question is that? The sky is blue!” Anna twisted over and leaned her head on the window, arms folded across her chest.  Elsa still had yet to tell her where they were going and only mentioned a three hour car ride. That left plenty of time for her to catch up on sleep if her wife would let her.

“No, not - “ Elsa laughed at herself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I meant what color is the sky right now?”

Anna cracked one eye open and grimaced at the passing street light that blinded her. “Black,” she stated matter-of-factly. Elsa hummed a smile on her face. She let Anna sleep the rest of the way, picking up and sipping her coffee. The low songs of the radio filling the silence in a quiet peace. She didn’t care for the station, but it was one of Anna’s favorites. The little things would make the difference on this trip.

Barely any time had passed, that’s what it felt like to Anna anyway, before a hand on her shoulder gently shook her awake. “What is it now,” she sighed tiredly and shuffled further into the car door. When she agreed to whatever Elsa had planned, losing sleep hadn’t even crossed her mind. She knew she was being unfair to her wife. Elsa only wanted to help. The stress of her burnout had taken its toll without consent and Anna wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and sulk. Sleep was the closest she could get right now, but the woman driving had other plans.

“What color is the sky now,” she asked eagerly. Her pale hand fell away and gripped the steering wheel again.

Anna squinted at the light outside. The night had faded to be greeted by the light of the sun just peeking over the horizon. Reds and oranges bled into pale blue as the orb of yellow and white ascended slowly. Any other day the she might have appreciated seeing the sunrise, she might have stared at the way the light shone and glistened along Elsa’s skin, bathing her in rays of gold. But it only annoyed her at having the same question asked in place of sleep. Still she answered,

“Red.”

Her eyes closed again with the plan to catch more sleep. Elsa didn’t bother her after that. She sipped her fresh cup of coffee, having stopped for gas before the sunrise. Anna grumbled under her breath adjusting to get comfortable in her seat again. Pink lips turned up at the corner in amusement. Anna may be grumpy beyond belief this morning and she knew it was her doing. The outcome of this trip will be worth it. Elsa knew it, could feel it in her bones. She could only hope Anna didn’t throw her in the lake as payback when they got there.

Elsa smirked watching, pulling out a pair of sunglasses and slipping them on. The day was only beginning. The coffee singed her tongue as she took another sip.

If Anna did throw her in the lake, she made sure to have plenty of jokes ready.

Gravel crunched under the tires as the car pulled off the main road. The road itself wasn’t too bad in terms of a drive. Anna woke up quietly glancing around at the trees and greenery around them. She said nothing to tell Elsa she was awake and continued to stare out the window. The sight felt familiar, she knew this place but couldn’t quite care enough to place it. Sleep still clouded mind and even if it was Wednesday she liked to sleep in late and stay up late instead. This whole early to bed and early to rise business wasn’t for her.

A light chuckle from her left told Anna all she needed to know. “There’s hot chocolate for you since you’re not the biggest fan of coffee.” Elsa never took her eyes off the road and merely motioned to the cup holder between them.

“Thanks.” Anna took the cup nearly dropping it. No protective sleeve saved her from burning fingers, not even the paper cup itself. “Geez, why’s it so hot!” She glared at her sister.

“Didn’t know how long you were going to stay asleep so I asked them to make it extra hot.”

“Extra hot,” Anna guffawed, “This cup feels like it came straight out of Orodruin itself! You could have got me a protective sleeve for it or something!”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to sleep!” Anna folded her arms at Elsa’s response, “Besides, you always get annoyed at the sleeves opting to burn your fingers anyway.”

“Yes, but the cups are never that hot!”

Elsa only smiled.

The car slowed and stopped with a slight jolt. Anna hadn’t touched her drink again still waiting for it to cool down from Mount Doom level temperatures. She figured out why this place had seemed so familiar. Her parents used to take her camping out here toward the end of summer, always running around the lake and sometimes taking a ferry over to the small island.

“I grabbed us a backcountry permit if you wanted to stay away from the normal campsites.” Elsa held up the piece of paper before tucking it into her jacket pocket. Anna hummed her agreement and stretched in her seat.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom then we can hike to wherever.” She ducked out of the car, breathing in the fresh air. A warm feeling of nostalgia washed over her at the familiar sight. She hadn’t come back to this park in years. Anna walked across the parking lot toward the public restroom. Coming back to the lake hadn’t even crossed her mind. It’s almost sad really. To forget about a place she once loved so deeply, have it take up a corner of her mind as a memory she kept but never thought about.

She turned the faucet off and shook stray water drops from her hands, wiping the remaining wetness on her jeans. Anna never trusted the automatic air dryers.

When she arrived back to the car, Anna bit back a bark of laughter. Elsa had strapped each and every pack and bag to herself and looked overloaded, but all too eager like a puppy. She smiled broadly at Anna and handed her the much cooler cup, “Come on, let’s go! I know of the perfect spot!”

Anna took the cup, her shoulders shaking as she held in her laughter.

“Wait, Elsa. Let me carry some things.” Elsa paused mid-step and tilted her head. All the coffee had gone to her brain in the most adorable way. “How did you even manage to hold all the bags, even mine?” Anna pointedly looked at the deep green duffle bag with a bright orange patch on the side.

“I played a lot of tetris as a kid.” She shrugged but gave Anna two of the bags anyway.

Anna adjusted the strap of a bag on her shoulder. “Alright, now show me this perfect spot.”

The blonde grinned and grabbed Anna’s hand practically dragging her along toward the trail and into the bush. Anna could only keep up and pray her hot chocolate didn’t spill.

—-

Anna had to admit the spot Elsa had picked was perfect. A little spot hidden behind dense shrubbery. Well off the path and if someone did make it this far the thorn bushes were certainly a discouragement. She knew she’d be picking the sharp thorns out of her clothes for a while and if it weren’t for the view and the feeling of peace she’d make Elsa do it without a second thought. Anna’s had her second thought and is still intent on making Elsa do the work.

“Nice view, right?” Elsa wiped the dirt off her hands stepping over to Anna. She had finished setting up the tent and decided to see what was keeping her wife. The view itself looked over the entirety of the lake and the mountains surrounding it.  The trees swayed in the breeze.

“It’s beautiful.” Anna tucked a piece of hair back into place. Elsa stepped up beside her. They stared at the scene in silence. A sense of peace forming around them. Anna closed her eyes listening to the birds singing in the trees and the wind rustling the branches. The smell of the air and the sun on her skin eased the tension in her shoulders she didn’t realize had been there. Anna felt free like she could step off the overlook and just fly. Elsa smiled at the content look on her face.

“Anna,” the red-head hummed and turned to face her, “what color is the sky?”

The question had her sighing exasperatedly. How many times would she ask that damned question. It didn’t make sense. She had answered it twice already. Inhaling deeply, Anna decided not to let this ruin the moment. She looked up at the sky, fluffy clouds dotting the expansive space.

“Blue. It’s blue.”

Elsa made no comment. Anna would have yelled at her but the pure love in pale blue eyes killed the thought before it formed. She found herself smiling back and shaking her head lightly. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

Elsa chuckled, “I know. Now come on, let’s go exploring a bit.”

Anna followed eagerly. Exploring she could do.

—-

Night life in the forest seemed impossibly loud compared to the day. Anna didn’t mind much. She found the noise comforting in a way. All the little life coming out with the safety of darkness. Comfortable now that the sun has gone and they can hide in the shadows of the night. She could understand it. The night offered a sort of peace the day could not. She loved the sun, loved the hustle and bustle of day life, but the night hit differently. She closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips. The day’s activities replayed in her mind’s eye.

After running around, revisiting old trails and memories and making some new ones, the two women sat around a little fire. Anna made Elsa pick out all the thorns and burrs while she roasted marshmallows. While Elsa didn’t agree with s’mores before dinner she let it slide this once.

They relaxed after that, Anna rigged a stick with fishing gear and went fishing. She didn’t catch anything. She came back soaking wet and Elsa only raised a brow. She changed into some dry clothes and sat by the fire to get warm. Elsa turned from her book then, a cheeky grin on her face and said,

“You know I love it when you -” Anna smacked her before she should finish.

Now they lay peacefully staring up at the stars.

“Anna,” Elsa started in the quiet. Anna hummed in acknowledgment before her mind jump started back to nearly every quiet moment previously,

“You better not ask me what color the sky is or I swear to god you will find yourself at the bottom of the lake!”

The crickets chirped.

“What hue doth the heavens above appears to thine viewing orbs?”

Anna laughed. She laughed loud and hard. She knew Elsa would find a way to rephrase the question the second she threatened her, but she never expected her to phrase it like that. She rolled onto her side and clutched her stomach from the force of her laughter. “I-I can’t -” she wheezed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, “I can’t breath.”

“You should have let me ask the question normal then.” The cheekiness in her voice had Anna swatting blindly behind her. Her hand connected with nothing but air.

“Fine, this is the last time I’m answering that stupid question,” Anna finally said after she stopped laughing and caught her breath. She rolled back to look at the sky and exhaled deeply a smile on her face, “Black, the sky is black.”

“Wrong.”

Anna propped herself up on her elbow. Wrong. The first response back to her answers and it was to tell her, Anna, that she answered wrong.

“What, how can I be wrong? Are you seeing the same sky I’m seeing?” Anna grit her teeth ready to fully argue her point.

“No, no calm down, feisty pants. Right now you could argue it’s black, or a very deep blue.”

“Then how am I wrong?!”

Elsa kept her gaze on the sky. “I asked you three four times today what color the sky was. Only two of the answers were the same. Can you explain that?” “The sky changes colors, you numpty.”

“So what color is the sky then if it changes?”

Anna didn’t have an answer to that. Elsa turned to face her, the moonlight making her blue eyes glow in the night.

“What color do you say the sky is then,” Anna asked, moving closer to Elsa. The night breeze had a bit of a chill, but she didn’t feel like getting a jacket. Her arm brushed against her wife’s.

“If you asked me what color the sky is, anytime of day or night, I’d tell you it’s white. I know it’s crazy, but think about it. In general people say the sky is blue, but it’s not always blue. You said it yourself, the sky changes colors, so why is it blue then?” She raised a hand and traced along various constellations as she spoke. “Is it because that’s the color we see it as mostly. Blue during the day? The history behind it is actually fascinating, but I won’t go into that. But the sky can be any color depending on when you look. Black, dark blue, orange and red, yellow and pink, purple and light blue, even green. The sky isn’t just one color or one shade. It’s all of them all the time, we just only see what the light shows us. That’s why I say it’s white. White reflects all colors, the sky cycles through the colors based on a bunch of scientific stuff that I’m a bit too tired to get into. I didn’t really prepare to get into that bit anyway.” she laughed at herself.

Anna lay in silence. She never really thought about it like that.

“But why white, why not black?”

Elsa sucked in a small breath before answering, “Black is the absence of colors. If the sky was black that’s all we’d see. A black hole sucking the colors away and leaving nothing behind but darkness. That’s why it’s white and not black.”

“Geez, that took a depressing turn.”

Elsa hummed and entwined her fingers with Anna’s. “Think of it as a prism. The sun shines through and casts the colors fresh and new through the day.”

“A blank canvas.” Anna found herself mumbling aloud. A blank canvas to be painted each day in the same ways that vastly differed if you looked hard enough. The subtle hues shifting day to day, the contrast of reds and oranges against purples and blues. All of it spinning endlessly in a cycle, a prism of color splattered across a canvas of white that never is seen as white.

The two remained watching the stars for a bit longer. The little dots of color splattered across the dark sky. Almost a reverse of my freckles. Anna mused to herself. The crisp air raised goosebumps on her arms.

Anna went to sleep that night, snuggled in her wife’s arms, feeling so refreshed and full of love she thought it might overflow. And it did. Her emotions flowed over in little drops that ran down her cheeks and she whispered over and over how much she loved Elsa. In turn with each ‘I love you’ a kiss was placed on her head, her cheek, her lips, and her body squeezed a bit tighter.

The white sky, painted with the color of night, left them to rest peacefully. The moon watching over them.

The trunk slammed shut and all the bags and trash were loaded in. Not nearly as neatly as before but as long as it wasn’t falling out Anna didn’t care. She awoke buzzing with renewed energy ready and eager to get back to work. Her burnout long forgotten. The three hour car ride didn’t seem so long even though Anna sat wide awake the entire trip. Elsa would probably need a day to recover from the amount of talking Anna did in that small time. Maybe a new book and quiet day in a coffee shop or a day spent curled up in her bed with nothing but mindless games to entertain herself with. Anna made a note to thank Elsa for forcing her out for a day, whatever she wanted.

Anna went to work the moment she stepped through the doorway. Pencil marks flew across the page in hurried fashion almost as if the vision would fade before she could get it down. Supplies were strewn out over the kitchen table and counter tops as Anna fell into what Elsa called ‘The detonation zone’. It was a mess, but also the time and place where Anna seemed to get the most work done.

Guess I’m not cooking. Elsa thought and picked up the phone. She was kinda in the mood for pizza anyway.

Pale blue eyes watched from where she leaned against the wall as the blur of auburn worked in a frenzy. Her movements were both hurried and agonizingly slow to preserve the details in a way only Anna managed to do. A mesmerizing sight she could watch for hours if not for the delivery man ringing her doorbell.

She made sure Anna knew of the food sitting in the living room.

“Okay, thank you!” Came the reply from the kitchen. Elsa chuckled and shook her head taking her own slice or two of pizza. She disappeared into their shared room for the rest of the evening. The one day trip seemed to have worked in Anna’s favor. Elsa made the mental note to schedule more day trips once in a while.

Time ticked by and Anna didn’t even notice. The pizza had gone cold and the sunlight faded away. The brush in her hand was set in the water cup for the last time.

“There.” Anna sat back finished. She smiled at the creation in front of her leaving it to dry as her stomach made known it’s need for food. The clock read late into the night, or early into the morning, depending on how you look at it. Maybe setting an alarm for food and breaks would be a good idea in the future. She decided it’d be worth a shot if only to save her from a stiff back at the end of the day.

Her paint stained hands grabbed a cold slice of pizza and promptly inhaled it followed by three more. The kitchen sat in a disastrous mess and the urge to put off cleaning up until the morning hit hard. Anna considered cleaning up the worst part about doing art. Elsa would likely clean up for her in the morning since she always woke up first. Anna knew that and decided not to let that happen. As much as Elsa said she didn’t mind and that’s what she signed up for by marrying her, Anna wouldn’t have it. Not after what she’d done for her the past day, or really since they first-started dating.

Anna turned the faucet on, warm water cleaning her stained hands, and she began the cleanup.

It wasn’t until around four in the morning that she finally headed to bed. The bedroom door creaked softly. Elsa snored softly, curled on her side snuggling a pillow. The sight made Anna fall in love with her all over again. Anna would never get tired of seeing her wife in such a peaceful and vulnerable state. Gently, she climbed into bed beside her.

“I love you.” she whispered and kissed Elsa’s cheek. Elsa let go of the pillow at the contact and fully snuggled against her wife. Anna wrapped her arms around her and kissed her softly again.

“I love you so much.”

Elsa woke to gentle rays of sun dancing across her face. Untangling herself from Anna she stepped outside of the room. She paused halfway closing the door and looked on fondly at the sleeping mess of her wife.

The kitchen was spotless, save for the canvas resting on the table. Even the sink was clean, supplies neatly drying on the rack where they were supposed to be. A smile graced her lips.

The coffee pot sputtered to life as it began brewing. It was only nine o’clock and Anna likely wouldn’t be up for another few hours. Being your own bosses had their perks. The brown liquid steamed as she poured it into a plain ceramic mug. The rich scent very much welcome this morning.

Anna would always scold her for drinking too much coffee. The thought brought another smile to her face. She really loved Anna and all that came with her.

Coffee in hand Elsa approached the canvas on the kitchen table. She made sure to stay for enough back that if something drastic happened her coffee would not stain the creation. She rounded the table and the sight made her pause. The colors and detail splattered across it showed just how much that camping trip had meant to her.

“Oh Anna,” her eyes lined with overflowing emotions as she took in the painting. “You’re still full of surprises.”

[mihidecet]

Tibi’s MCYT WritingTober, Day 10

I hope everyone’s doing fine! Today there’s no angst, only good feels!

I’d say good feels are a given with Dadza, but honestly after yesterday’s prompt I can’t say anything.

Today’s prompt from @the-only-gamer-gost ‘s list is “SMP Earth”, which means it’s time for the Antartic Empire boys!!

Phil has never really gotten used to the cold. 

Back when he’d first decided to settle in the north, he’d been expecting cold weather and frigid temperatures - white everywhere, trees unbent despite carrying their own weight in snow over their branches. 

But he hadn’t been prepared for the cold of the Antarctic: there, his own breath seemed to be congealing inside his lungs, and the smell of logs burning had become more familiar than that of food. There, stalactites and stalagmites were made of pure ice, which was somehow stronger than rocks themselves - they resided in a fortress built to last a century, hung to the ceiling of a mountain excavated by water itself. 

He’d had to upgrade his own gear, in order to survive longer than a night - those were the worst, when warmth could leave you at the worst of times and you could never realise. 

It had been easier than expected, since Techno had come prepared. 

Phil had been able to use one of his coats at first, a fluffy red thing which kept him warm and cozy as they explored the abandoned fortress, Phil’s mind running with ideas on what to do and how to improve their living conditions. A week later he’d returned to their now almost-home with two brand new coats, in tones of white and light blue, in honour of their newly formed Empire. 

The Antarctic doesn't feel like home yet, but Phil is making sure it will soon. He's been leaving almost every other day in order to gather what he needs to make sure they don't need to have fires running constantly in order to avoid freezing to death, and most importantly food - nothing grows where they live, except for ice, and Phil's not that desperate yet. 

As he descends into the heart of the fortress, he's welcomed by familiar sounds: the ever constant dripping of ice melting close to every heat source, the gentle hum of their furnaces, busy smelting ores and warming up their surroundings. 

The only thing missing is the sound of at least a single soul living there. 

When Phil had left, Techno had been deeply focused in his work, scribbling notes on various sheets of papers and tracing lines and trajectories over the huge map of the world he'd bought a couple of days before. He'd been so focused he would have missed Phil leaving if the man hadn't made sure to stop by their study to let him know, so Phil had expected him to still be working there when he got back. 

But as he gets closer, there's no sounds of papers moving, nor Techno's deep voice mumbling calculations to himself, coming from the room. 

The moment he turns the corner into the room, Phil freezes in place. The candle Techno had lit on the desk is almost completely melted, and nothing is moving in the room except for the rhythmic rise and fall of the young man's shoulders as he's hunched on the same desk Phil left him at. 

The older man sighs, both exasperated and endeared, and shakes his head - he should have known he would have been overworking himself. 

He takes a few steps into the room and grabs a spare blanket from the armchair near the entrance, but even that small sound is enough to stir Techno up. 

His head raises, and he squints at him for a moment with tense shoulders before relaxing. 

"Oh, hi Phil." He says, voice gravelly and thick with tiredness, before trying to stretch his back - about a dozen of painful sounding pops later, he looks almost awake. 

"Let's get you to sleep, Techno." Phil comments with a chuckle, setting the blanket back down. There's a moment of pause as they have a staring contest - Techno trying in vain to convince him that no, he can definitely keep working - before the young man lets out an exaggerated sigh and stands up. 

"I guess I'm a bit tired." He concedes and follows Phil as he escorts him towards his room. 

"You know, I've almost got it." Techno adds as they walk side by side; Phil turns to him with an inquisitive look, as the man still hadn't exactly elaborated on what he'd been working on. 

Techno leans towards him, a grin on his face as his voice lowers as if telling him a secret. 

"We're gonna conquer the world, Phil. It's gonna be all ours!" 

Now, if it had been anyone else, Phil would have figured it was just the exhaustion talking, making them ramble. But he knows Techno. He trusts both Techno and his skills, his knowledge. 

So Phil gapes for a moment, then bursts into joyous laughter. 

"You and me, mate. I can't wait!" He exclaims, giddy with excitement - when Techno had told him that one day they'd be ruling the world, he hadn't expected him to stick to his words. And yet, the man never stops surprising him. 

"Does that mean I can go back to finishing up my-" Techno starts once his laughter has died down, prompting Phil to turn sharply towards him with a fake glare and a pointed finger. 

"No!"